“With stolen money?” Sorin countered, arching his brow.
“Do I ask you where you get your money?” When Sorin didn’t respond, Krea clenched the leather reins in frustration. Caldir hopped to the side, but she pulled the horse into a pivot, clenching his mane in her fist to stay on, and then once again faced the man she was starting to hate. “Look. Whatever it is you may think I am, I am not one of your servants sworn to jump at your command. I don’t have to put up with you.”
The caller cocked his head and smirked. “And where do you plan to go, kyrni? Back to Trasdaak? I don’t think you will find a warm welcome there. If your friend the captain doesn’t kill you, the villagers will. They don’t trust the kyrni this far from the Royal City, and they will assume you are responsible for the proth’s attack, which is a fair assumption. So, where will you go without me?”
The man was infuriating. Krea could hardly speak through her anger. When she did finally manage to find her voice, it was barely more than a hiss. “I have managed just fine without you my whole life. Don’t kid yourself into thinking that I can’t continue.”
Sorin's expression relaxed in the wake of Krea’s fury. “Krea, you are going to shift. Very soon, your body will do what is natural for it to do, and you will shift. When that happens, the animal you change into will not know that you are part human. You’ll be trapped in your animal counter for the rest of its natural life, and that is a very long time.”
“Good,” Krea spat, still furious. “Then instead of stealing from arrogant nobles like you, I can eat them.” With that, she gave Caldir full rein and they galloped down the well-traveled road much faster than she would have ever dared had she not been consumed with rage. In the distance, she could hear Sorin calling her back, but she let the rhythmic drumming of Caldir’s hooves consume her thoughts as tears streamed down her face.
For an instant, she had thought she belonged somewhere. She imagined that she mattered to someone, but it had been a stupid dream. No one wanted her, least of all this nobleman. She was on her own once again, which was fine. That was how it had always been. That was how it should be.
Chapter 4 - Trader
Caldir’s flight finally slowed to a gentle trot, but Krea couldn’t decide if it was because he had run himself out or because her tantrum had passed. Either way, the horse was soaked with sweat. Foam had formed along his shoulders and throat. His nostrils flared as he tried to catch his breath, and he didn’t argue when she slowed him back to a walk. Part of her knew that she should get off and walk him, but she was half expecting to see Sorin come galloping over the hill and she didn’t want to deal with him, not yet. Caldir seemed content to keep going, so she left him to it.
As her mind turned to Sorin, she grimaced. The caller had made a good point. Where would she go? She certainly couldn’t go back to Trasdaak. Faythor was the next closest village within the Empire, but what would she do there? If the caller was right, and she didn’t have any reason to doubt him, she could turn into some magical beast any day now. She didn’t want to be in the middle of a village when that happened.
Krea looked down at her horse. He was incredible. Sweat had turned his copper coat to a rich brown. The dark stripe that ran the length of his back was now almost black. Muscles flexed with every step, and she longed to know what it would feel like to have that much power at her command. Maybe living the rest of her life as an animal wouldn’t be so bad. After all, she didn’t exactly have the life people dreamed of now. She didn’t even have a place to call home. At least as a dragon, people would treat her with respect.
She sighed and gave her horse an encouraging pat on his sopping neck. No way could she just commit herself to mindlessness, and she knew it. As much as she hated to admit it, Sorin was right. She needed to get to Shaylith. The elders, whoever they were, probably dealt with callerless kyrni all the time. She would just follow the trade route to Faythor and consult a smith when she got there. The smiths always knew how to get from one place to another. Thanks to some poor noble in Trasdaak, she even had coin to help get her to the Royal City.
With her mind made up, Krea settled into the idea of traveling alone and checked her pack for supplies. She had a bedroll; what looked like a change of clothing, which she needed thanks to the proth; a thin, bent metal rod intended for some inconceivable purpose; and a water flask. Sorin must have kept all the food with him. That was a problem since she had no idea how far away Faythor was. The possibility did exist that she would run into other traders on the road, but it was never a good idea to interact with them. It was even odds on whether they would rob you or help you.
Caldir kept a steady pace along the hard-packed dirt road, and before she knew it, the sun was dropping behind a hill. She guessed she had maybe an hour before dark. Sleeping outside was normal enough. Having a bit of moonlight would have been nice, but she could cope with the blackness of the dark moon as well. Even the lack of food wasn’t a major concern. She was used to going without.
No, what concerned her most was deciding what to do with her horse. She had never cared for a horse before. He needed to eat, she knew that much. Sorin had just turned him loose during lunch, but she couldn’t imagine trying to get to Shaylith on foot. What if he wandered off? What if he decided he didn’t want to carry her anymore? She didn’t have a rope to tie him with, and she had no idea how to call him back the way Sorin did.
Krea glanced out across the plain. She could hear a stream in the distance, but other than that, everything was quiet. A waterfront seemed like a good place to make camp, so she nudged Caldir off the trail and headed through the tall grass toward the sound of the water.
The foliage bent under Caldir’s hooves, leaving a narrow trail to mark their path through the field. The stream wasn’t far off the main road, but Krea knew better than to camp out in the open. No sense calling attention to herself. Instead, she followed the water down the hill, where it meandered into a small tree-filled gorge that smelled of pine needles and wild mint. Short green grass lined gently-sloping banks, and the soft rumble of water rushing over rocks gave the grove a peaceful air. She graced the area with one more approving glance and slid out of the saddle.
By some miracle, she wasn’t as sore as she had been when they had stopped for lunch. Exactly why that was, she couldn’t guess, but she was thankful. A nagging voice told her to wait until the morning, but she opted to ignore it and removed Caldir’s saddle instead. The area previously covered by the small blanket and saddle was still wet with sweat, but a thin layer of crusted salt covered the rest of the horse’s body.
Even though she wasn’t sure why, Krea was certain the tiny salt crystals that clung to her horse’s coat had to come off. The details relating to how that was supposed to happen escaped her. She had seen stable hands using metal brushes and rags, but she had neither. On the other hand, Caldir had carried her on his back all day, and the least she could do was help get the grime off him. The only way she knew to do that was to wash it off, even if it meant going into the creek.
After peeling off her boots and stockings, Krea led Caldir to the small stream and stopped right on the edge. She hated rivers, and it didn’t matter how small they were. It looked shallow, but rivers were notoriously deceptive creatures. To be sure, she picked up a stick and poked at the water before venturing in up to her knees. The water was ice cold, but she had washed in melted snow, so anything shy of that was an improvement.
Caldir didn’t like the idea of standing in the running water any more than Krea did, but with a little mental persuasion, he settled down and waited while she stripped off her shirt and soaked it in the water. Once the horse agreed to stand still, the process of washing him took less time than she expected. In the end, the horse was as clean as the first time she had seen him, albeit a bit soggy.
Shivering, Krea hurried to wash the trail off as much of her skin as she could get to without stripping completely, and then pulled the change of clothes out of the travel pack. She was deli
ghted to find not only another tunic as nicely stitched as the first one Sorin had given her, but also a summer cloak.
Caldir was already munching on grass when Krea, now wrapped in warm wool, finally turned her attention back to him. It would be very bad if he ran off. As an experiment, she tried to touch the horse’s mind the way she had done in Trasdaak. It was awkward at first, like finding a feather in a dark room, but eventually her mental dexterity improved. Caldir looked back at her with a curious eye, but otherwise ignored her clumsy attempts at communication.
Finally, she pushed her thoughts forward and brushed the illusive tendrils of Caldir’s mind on the first try. She started to tell him what she wanted, but remembered Sorin’s lesson. Instead, she pushed the idea of returning to her into the animal’s head and waited. To her absolute delight, the horse turned around and wandered toward her, snatching a clump of grass on the way.
Krea was so excited; she clapped her hands and let out a squeal. Caldir snapped his head up and hopped to the side with a threatening snort, but went no farther.
“Easy now, Caldir,” Krea cooed, mimicking the words she had heard others use with horses. “I’m sorry about that.” She held her hand out and walked up the hill to where the horse waited. At the same time, she touched his mind again and sent reassuring thoughts. In response, the buckskin dropped his head and resumed his walk to meet her. When they met in the middle, Krea kept her emotions contained and scratched the horse’s big brown head instead. In short order, he was back to his meal and she was back to remembering that she didn’t have one.
Without rope, she couldn’t set any snares. Caldir would surely lend his mane and tail to the cause, but braiding a rope took days and she had less than an hour. Dusk was almost upon her. Fishing wasn’t an option either in the limited light, so Krea set to foraging and prepared for another day without dinner. Her gathering did finally yield a small patch of wild strawberries that were still a bit too green, but little else.
Before dusk turned to night, she grabbed her precious money purse and made her way back to the small deer bed that she had claimed for the night. As she brushed pine needles over her bedding to add extra insulation against the chilly night air, Krea realized she was better off than she was most nights. She had clean clothes, a cloak, a blanket to sleep in, and at least a little something in her stomach. From here, her life looked great.
###
Sorin watched Caldir gallop away with the kyrni barely clinging to his back. This journey was going to be much harder than he had feared. He kept telling himself that she was just a package he had to deliver, another aspect of serving the Empire. All he had to do was bring her to the elders and leave; no personal attachment to the outcome was necessary. Unfortunately, after years of careful suppression, memories of his lost link, Tormismir, were making his cavalier attitude difficult to maintain. Krea’s age wasn’t helping, either. She was young and vulnerable, but also endowed with the curse of youthful impulsivity. He wasn’t sure he could put up with her for the many weeks it would take to get to Shaylith.
Then there was the possibility that they wouldn’t make it to the Royal City at all. Krea was close to her shift. Too close. As much as Sorin didn’t want to admit it, he was going to have to teach her the ways of the kyrni or risk watching her suffer the same fate as his lost link.
Drindoc danced sideways in his effort to join Caldir, but Sorin held him back. No point in chasing her down. Like last time, he knew where she was going. Let her run herself out and settle down, and then he would try to make a truce with her for at least long enough to get her handed off to the elders. She would be their problem then, assuming she stayed in human form that long. Sorin let the dust settle before finally giving the stallion his head and resuming his journey.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, the path seemed oppressively silent. He couldn’t really attribute his feelings to Krea's absence. He had avoided her efforts at conversation all day. Whatever the cause, his solitude was suddenly palpable.
Sorin stared out across the meadow on his left. The birds seemed to whisper their songs. The soft rustle of the long grass was drowned by the heavy fall of his horse’s hooves. Even the myriad of mammals that had scurried through the field only hours before had apparently gone into hiding. Only after straining for several moments was Sorin finally able to pick out a small squirrel hurrying up a tree to hide her wares.
He glanced up. The sun was finally through its crest. For safety reasons, Sorin knew he should rejoin Krea before nightfall, but the thought of dealing with her temper tantrum held no appeal. Neither did the idea of dealing with his own foolish pride. Goddess have mercy, it was going to be a long trip. Sorin clicked Drindoc into a canter.
A surprising distance up the trail, Sorin reined in his horse. Cut across a field of tall, yellowing grass was a path as clearly visible as if it had been marked with rocks and downed logs. Krea had clearly decided to make camp in that general direction. Why? He couldn’t answer, but her decision was dangerously obvious. How the girl had survived as long as she had was anyone’s guess. The crushed grass that marked her direction was as much an invitation to cutthroat bandits as a loaded merchant cart with a broken wheel. Maybe more so. Merchants traveled well-armed and were more often than not shielded by magic.
Sorin reined his mount toward the grass and followed the path. Halfway across the wide field, he heard the soft thunder of water rushing over rocks. How could he have missed it before? Without a doubt, Krea had left the trail to find the stream. She had to have heard the water from the road, but he had stood on the road for several minutes and hadn’t heard a thing. Maybe Kole was right. Perhaps the years were catching up, after all.
As Sorin wrestled with that possibility, realization slapped him on the back of the head. He pulled his horse to a halt. “Sorin, you’re an idiot,” he said to the silent field. “How can you be so stupid?”
Drindoc reached down to nibble at the long grass, but Sorin nudged him back into a walk. Of course she could hear the water. She was kyrni. She could hear and see things long before a normal person could, and so could he when he was with her. The wild creatures in the field weren’t behaving any differently; he just couldn’t see or hear them like he had during the morning half of their trip. Without the kyrni, he was just another man.
Sorin scowled into the silence. The sooner they reached the Royal City, the better. After Tormismir’s lost shift, Sorin had moved as far from other kyrni as he could get, and he didn't want to change anything now. The taste of kyrni magic only strengthened his resolve. If he could shed his caller magic, he would. Unfortunately, it owned him. He could keep it away from its counterpart, though.
When Sorin reached the water’s edge, Krea was nowhere to be found. He backed his horse away from the soft dirt and searched the ground for Caldir’s trail. It took him only a second to find it. Krea had wandered downriver, and like last time, she had given no thought to hiding her trail. He was just about to follow the tracks when the memory of Krea’s tantrum stopped him.
As stubborn as that girl was, he didn’t have a blind man’s chance of convincing her that her choice of sanctuary was a bad one. No, his best bet was to let her learn the lesson herself. Let her be set upon by a “bandit.” Then she would be much more attentive to his teachings.
A quick glance at the surrounding area offered the perfect opportunity. Just at the edge of the field where the forest started again was a steep embankment. From the top of the rise, he would be able to see the waterfront from the cover of the trees.
Despite its angle, the hill was easy enough for Drindoc to navigate. It was also well worth the climb. Just as Sorin had hoped, the winding river path opened up before him and Krea was none the wiser to his presence. Not even Caldir knew he was being watched. Drindoc spotted his stable mate and started to call out to him, but Sorin touched his mount’s mind with a command for silence and the horse obeyed. Below him, Krea moved about, oblivious to his presence.
Caldir was
already unsaddled and standing in a shallow part of the river. Sorin watched in confusion as Krea stripped off her shirt and dunked it in the water. The sun was already waning. He couldn’t imagine that she was hot, and he didn’t think she was the cleanly type. She drew the sopping shirt out of the river and ran it across Caldir’s neck. She was washing the horse. Sorin couldn’t believe it.
As he watched her dunk the shirt, then drag it running with water across the horse’s salty coat, he had to smile. She had no idea what she was doing, but her bath was exactly what her horse needed. Standing in the cool, running water would help reduce any swelling in his legs brought on by his hard run. The river would also soften any soil that may have been caught in the frog of his feet, preventing stone bruising later. In her effort to wash him, Krea was rubbing down tight muscles and washing away any caked-on mud that could get under the saddle in the morning. Krea didn’t know it, but she was keeping her mount as sound as possible.
Once Caldir was clean enough to pass her inspection, she started on herself. Sorin looked on, prepared to look away if she decided to pull off her undershirt and breeches, but his earlier assessment was correct. She wasn’t the cleanly type. A quick scrub of her exposed skin was enough for her. He shivered. That water had to be cold.
After a bit more meandering about her camp, Krea turned Caldir loose to graze. Sorin watched, somehow pleased that the kyrni allowed the horse to wander up the embankment before eventually calling him back. She was a fast learner. That was good. With everything she had working against her, namely time, she would need to acquire knowledge at an impossible rate.
Hand and Talon (World of Kyrni Book 1) Page 7
