The Omaja Stone

by Jayla Jasso

  Jiandra kicked Otto into action, hurrying down the sloping embankment toward the river. Her men as well as the prison cart guards followed her to the water’s edge to get a closer look. The driver and the horses were swimming to shore, but the cart was sinking with the prisoners trapped inside.

  “The key!” Jiandra screamed at the cart guards, jumping down from her saddle. “You must release the prisoners or they will drown!”

  “I’m not going into that river,” one of them muttered, turning his horse away from her. “Not for a bunch of stinking Nandals. Their fate is sealed.”

  Desperate, Jiandra rushed him, trying to grab his horse’s reins. “Give me the blasted key now!”

  “Get away, madwoman!” He jerked his horse away from her. “Come on, Parkington. Let’s get out of here!”

  The cart was almost completely submerged in the river. The Nandal prisoners nearest the surface clawed at the bars, pushing their faces to the top, screaming. The driver was almost to shore, with the two cart horses following close behind him.

  Jiandra shed her cloak, calling out to Brockriede and Logsdon. “Search the driver for a key when he gets to shore. I’m going to try to get that cart open!”

  Before they could raise a protest, she tugged off her boots and rushed into the river. She sucked in a sharp breath, dove headfirst under the chilly water, and swam toward the cart. Reaching it, she grabbed the bars of the cage and pulled herself around to the door, groping for the padlock under the water. Frantic bodies and limbs struggled under the surface, clutching at her arms and hands in desperation.

  Jiandra found the padlock, yanked at it. It was strong and secure.

  Back at the shore, Logsdon released the front of the driver’s shirt. “He’s got no key, milady!”

  The driver scrambled away and mounted one of the cart horses as they clambered up the river bank. He grabbed the other horse’s reins to pull it with him, and they galloped away.

  Jiandra jerked uselessly at the cage’s bars, a sob racking her chest. “I can’t get them out! Gods, help!” She grabbed the Omaja in her right fist, shut her eyes tightly, and whispered a desperate prayer. “Help me, Zehu. Help me get them out!”

  When she opened her eyes, a movement along the opposite shore caught her eye. Something—or someone—had jumped into the river. The water rippled out in waves as whoever it was swam swiftly underwater in her direction. Suddenly a head emerged, with close-cropped silver-gray hair, smooth olive skin, and a strong, square jaw. Piercing, handsome silver eyes met her bewildered gaze, and then the stranger grasped the bars of the cage to pound at the padlock with a sharp stone he carried in his hand. Three, four powerful blows to the iron hook of the lock, and it broke free.

  Relief and joy surged through her. “You did it!” She moved out of the way while he heaved the door open.

  “Stay here and help them out as I push them up,” he ordered gruffly.

  She nodded, and he dove into the cart.

  You sent me a savior, Lord Zehu, she prayed. Thank you.

  She held onto a bar for support and reached down into the doorway under the water. Someone grasped her forearm. She pulled a woman to the surface, and right behind her, an elderly woman who was being propelled toward the door. Jiandra helped place the older woman’s arms around the younger woman’s neck for support. A little girl came toward the opening, sputtering and coughing, then two young boys, two more women, two men, and another little boy who was struggling for breath. The adults helped the children swim toward shore while Jiandra waited by the cage for any sign of the stranger.

  To her relief, he finally emerged, hauling the last prisoner out with him. It was an elderly man, and his body was limp.

  “No!” she cried, grasping the old man’s shirt. She fumbled for the stone around her neck.

  “What are you doing? He’s gone, woman. We must go.” The stranger tried to pull her away from the cart, to swim with him to shore.

  She jerked out of his grasp. “No! I have to try and heal him!” She held the Omaja in her fist, and placed her other hand on the old man’s arm, focusing Healing.

  The stranger waited until it was obvious the man wasn’t going to wake up, then gently pulled her away from the corpse. “Come on; he’s gone. Let him go.”

  Jiandra shut her eyes as a sob racked her shoulders. The stranger slung her arms over his broad shoulders, then swam swiftly toward the bank with her on his back. He hauled her up out of the water with him and supported her with one arm around her waist as they waded to shore, his wet clothes clinging to every muscular plane of his body.

  When they had fully reached dry land, Jiandra broke away from him and hurried toward the huddled, shivering group of Nandal prisoners. The stranger followed and helped her check them for injuries, translating in Nandalan. She went to the old woman first and healed a nasty gash on her forehead. Next the stranger brought her the sobbing children, and she healed broken limbs, bloodied hands and bruised faces. Then she quickly healed the rest of the men and women, wrists and hands that were visibly mangled from the cuffs, as well as cuts and scrapes on faces, necks, and arms. The group of prisoners stared at her in awe, murmuring among themselves in Nandalan.

  Brockriede approached the group. “Milady, we should be on our way.” He placed Jiandra’s cloak over her shoulders, and held out her boots. “There’s nothing more we can do here. They will have to make a run for it on their own. Let’s go.”

  “No!” She folded her arms, shivering. “I won’t leave them here to fend for themselves. They have young children and elderly. We have to help them find shelter and food somehow.”

  “That’s going to be next to impossible under the circumstances, milady…”

  The stranger interrupted. “There is an abandoned house about a half mile north of here, secluded in the woods.”

  Finally, someone who cares and wants to help. Jiandra pulled her cloak tighter around herself, looking up at him gratefully. “Can you help me lead the group there?”

  “Yes.”

  His silvery eyes held her gaze for a moment, and her mouth went dry.

  “Wait,” Logsdon interrupted, frowning up at him. “Who are you and where did you come from? You weren’t in the cart.”

  The stranger met his gaze unflinchingly. “I was hiding here in the woods, fishing in the river, when I saw the cart go over the side of the bridge.”

  Jiandra spoke to her guards while pulling on her boots. “I’m taking the group and going with him to the cabin. You two flank us to the front and rear on the road, keeping an eye out for soldiers. Ride out at least a half mile each way. I’ll make sure the group is safe and hidden, then rejoin you on the road in an hour. If somehow I don’t find you, I’ll meet up with you in Caladia tonight.”

  Brockriede shot a distrustful glance at the stranger. “Are you sure, milady? Why not just send the prisoners off with him and be on our way?”

  “No, the elderly lady won’t be able to keep up, and I need to put her on my horse so she doesn’t slow the others down. I’ll be fine. All I’m asking you to do is to keep a watch out for soldiers on the road for about an hour so these people don’t get re-captured.”

  Brockriede sighed and turned to Logsdon. “I’ll take the front; you take the rear,” he muttered as they mounted their horses.

  Jiandra turned back to the tall stranger. “Help me get the old woman onto my horse. We need to hurry.”

  He quickly lifted the woman onto Otto and set the tiny girl in front of her while Jiandra held the horse’s reins. He then picked up the smallest boy in his powerful arms, and the other adults carried the other two children. He motioned the group to follow him up the slope toward the bridge.

  Jiandra followed him, leading Otto and the others as they hurried across the bridge and along Caladian Road. Soon the stranger motioned them to follow him into the woods. He led them through the trees and onto a narrow, weedy, less-used path that wound through the forest to the east. Jiandra kept her gaze glued to the back o
f his broad shoulders, leading Otto along with the rest of the group behind her.

  Eventually a dilapidated shack appeared up ahead.

  “There,” the stranger whispered to her over his shoulder.

  Jiandra nodded and looked back at the group. They trudged along, looking completely exhausted, especially the adults who were carrying the children.

  When they arrived at the front of the little house, Jiandra handed the reins to one of the men and followed the stranger to the small door.

  He tried the handle and then forced the door open with his shoulder. He motioned Jiandra to follow him inside, ducking his head to avoid banging it on the doorframe. Together they scanned the room for a place to hide six adults and four children. He moved a broken table aside, kicked some other debris out of the way, and found a trapdoor. Jiandra rushed over to watch as he pulled it open; a rickety ladder led down into darkness below.

  “Let’s get the group inside,” he said.

  Back outside, while he helped the little girl and the old woman off the horse, Jiandra saw a slight movement through the trees in the distance.

  “I think someone is coming down the path,” she whispered.

  He said something to the group in Nandalan, motioning them to hurry. Jiandra went to the door to help them duck into the cabin.

  Once everyone was inside, Jiandra kept watch out the window while he held the trapdoor open and the other men tried to help the old woman climb onto the ladder.

  “Horses are definitely approaching. They need move faster!” Jiandra urged.

  The stranger said something in Nandalan to the men. They moved back, and he dropped himself into the cellar. The men lifted the elderly woman and lowered her into the opening. The stranger caught her from below and she disappeared into the darkness. The men lowered the two little girls, the little boy who looked about five, and right behind him the older boy. With the stranger below helping them down, the line moved quickly until the last of the men were safely out of sight.

  Jiandra went to the opening, looking for him. She could barely make out his face in the darkness below. “Two soldiers on horseback are just outside. I will distract them. If they try to enter the house, I will scream to warn you. What is your name?”

  “Yajna,” he replied.

  “Yajna. I am Jiandra. Don’t come out until I return. Keep them quiet!”

  He nodded and moved the ladder away from the opening, out of sight. Jiandra closed the trapdoor, kicked some of the debris back over it, and hurried outside.

  FOURTEEN

  Jiandra casually moved Otto forward to block the entrance to the cottage and busied herself fiddling with his saddle as the small patrol approached.

  “Ho there!”

  “Yes?” Jiandra smiled sweetly over her shoulder.

  “Did you see a group of Nandals fleeing through the woods just now? They were heading this way.”

  “Nandals? No, I haven’t seen anyone. I was trying to get to my grandmother’s house when my saddle slipped. Threw me into the river!” She held out her still-damp skirt as evidence.

  The guard eyed the cottage behind her suspiciously. “What are you doing at this old house? It’s been abandoned for years.”

  “Oh, that explains why I didn’t get an answer when I banged on the door. I was trying to get help with my saddle.”

  “Move aside,” the guard ordered, dismounting.

  Jiandra’s heart leapt into her throat. She reluctantly led Otto away from the doorway. He strode to the small door and pounded on it while the other guard waited on his horse, hand on the hilt of his sword.

  Jiandra attempted to distract the guard at the door. “Sir, do you think perhaps you could help me with this blithering saddle?”

  He ignored her and pounded on the door again. “Fellspar Village Guard! Anyone in there?”

  Jiandra closed her fingers around the stone, praying under her breath. She flinched as he kicked the door open, then used the stone to read his thoughts as he stepped inside.

  Empty. Cobwebs, broken dishes. Broken table. Rat-eaten rug. Nothing here. Hmm…is that a fresh footprint in the dust?

  Jiandra closed her eyes and screamed at the top of her lungs.

  “What the—?” the guard on horseback exclaimed.

  The other one poked his head out from the doorway of the cabin, startled.

  “Help, help!” she yelled, limping around in a circle.

  The guard emerged from the house. “By the Gods! What the devil is the matter, miss?”

  “I must have broken my ankle!” she wailed. “When I fell into the river! The pain is unbearable, oh!”

  He frowned as she continued to carry on loudly. He stepped closer and grasped her arm to support her. “There’s a physician in Fellspar, miss. If you continue along this road—”

  Jiandra leaned on him and shook her head, pretend-sobbing. “I won’t be able to walk, and I can’t ride my horse because of the broken saddle! Oh, what will I do? Please, help me get to the doctor!”

  “All right, miss, we’ll take you back with us. You can get the saddle repaired in town while you’re there.” He looked up at the other guard. “Malcolm, come help the young lady onto your horse and let’s be off.”

  Malcolm reached down and pulled her up behind him. He grabbed Otto’s reins and nudged his horse to follow the other guard as they left.

  #

  Yajna listened intently until Jiandra’s hysterical cries and the voices of the guards died out. There was silence for a few moments, and then he heard Yavi’s signal from outside the cabin.

  “Stay put,” he whispered to the others before replacing the ladder to climb out of the cellar.

  When he emerged from the house, Yavi appeared from behind some trees.

  “Where did the girl go?” Yajna asked him in Nandalan.

  “The guards took her and rode off. She pretended to be injured to distract them from searching the house, and they fell for it. That woman’s crazy.” Yavi shook his head, grinning. “I think she’s crazier than the sorceress.”

  “Aye,” Yajna agreed. “It will take some effort to get her alone amidst all the ruckus.”

  Yavi eyed the cottage. “What do we do now?”

  Yajna grabbed a bucket that lay overturned in the bushes near the porch and shoved it against his brother’s chest. “We take care of those people until she comes back. Find some water we can give them to drink. Do you have flint? I need a light to see if there’s anything of use in the cellar—tools, candles, anything to sleep on.”

  Yavi checked his bag, handed his brother a small tinder box, and left with the bucket to look for a stream.

  #

  More than an hour had passed since Brockriede lost sight of Jiandra and her group, and he decided to turn around and ride south along Caladian Road until he found Logsdon.

  “Did you see which way they went?” he called out when he finally caught sight of his comrade.

  “They were heading east into the woods, last I saw,” Logsdon replied, looking exasperated. “Brockriede, face the truth. We’re never going to catch the assassin if she doesn’t stop trying to help every bloody Nandal we come across. Every soldier in the country is on alert, and there are only two of us against the entire well-armed nation. She’s in over her head, and we’ll be caught soon. The captain will have a fit when he finds out what we’ve been up to. Those soldiers back there who abandoned the cart at the river—they can describe us down to our boots. They’ll surely report us.”

  “What do you suggest, then?”

  “She respects you. You tell her we’re not stopping to help no more Nandals until she points out the assassin. End of story, done.”

  Brockriede nodded. “Let’s search the woods for the abandoned house the Nandal spoke of.”

  “What if she comes looking for us on the road while we’re gone?”

  “Right. You stay here, and I’ll go in and search. I won’t take long. If I don’t find her within the hour, I’ll return, and we
’ll head on to Caladia to wait.”

  Logsdon nodded his agreement.

  Brockriede guided his horse off the road and into the forest, scanning the woods along the way.

  #

  Jiandra held onto Malcom’s waist during the three-mile ride to Fellspar, and soon they arrived at the village. She spotted a small bakery in the village as they rode into town, and an idea occurred to her.

  Soon the guards stopped in front of a gated cottage. “Here’s the physician’s house. He can help with your ankle.”

  “Much obliged.” She was anxious to get back to the woods to check on Yajna and the others.

  The guard lifted her down from the horse, helped her up to the door, and knocked.

  A kindly looking older man appeared. “Yes?”

  Jiandra released the guard’s arm and nodded as he took his leave. She waved at him as he was mounting his horse, then turned to the physician and lowered her voice. “Hello, Sir. would you happen to have any ointments for—bee sting?”

  “Why yes, please come in.”

  Jiandra went inside, spent some time talking with the doctor, purchased an ointment, then said goodbye and cautiously went outside to where Otto was waiting. There was no sign of the guards. She prayed they hadn’t returned to the abandoned house to resume their search for the Nandal group.

  She led Otto down the street as inconspicuously as she could, limping a little just in case the guards happened by, and headed to the baker to purchase several loaves of bread. She quickly tied the burlap sack to her saddle and pulled her hood low over her brow, then climbed onto Otto’s back and left the village. She veered back into the woods, heading toward the abandoned house.

  #

  Brockriede arrived at a rundown cottage that seemed to be in the right area and dismounted, pacing around the overgrown yard. “Miss Stovy!” he whispered loudly. “Milady!”

  No response; all was silent. He walked up and tried the door. The latch was broken, so he pushed it open. “Miss Stovy?”

  He surveyed the room. There was nothing there except a pile of broken furniture. He spotted the edge of a trapdoor, and went to move the debris and open it. It was an empty hole, pitch black inside. “Miss Stovy? Anyone down there?”