by C. Ellsworth
Addy’s brows rose up. Mama was hearing voices too? Could she have been talking to her mama as well? Grandmama?
Aeric licked his lips. “Then she told me . . . She told me that she couldn’t return home. She had to stay at the Tower.”
Addy frowned. What? Her heart raced, her breath becoming heavy. “Mama wouldn’t choose to stay! Not with a family at home. Not with Gevin so ill! You’re lying to me! Why would she ever do such a thing?”
Aeric took Addy gently by shoulders, looking deeply into her eyes. His soul was bared through his gaze. There were no lies there. He had spoken the truth. She wavered on legs suddenly weak, but the Guard Captain held her steady. Then he swallowed before continuing. “She said she had to stay for you. For your brother. For everyone.” He let his strong arms drop to his sides. “She said it was the Lord’s plan, that someday it would mean the end of our suffering, the end of the Faege.”
Addy’s vision blurred through tears. She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. Why would the Lord take Mama away from her? Why her? What plan was so important that she would choose to abandon her family?
Her heart skipped. “If she stayed behind, does that mean she’s still—”
Aeric shook his head. “The skeg . . . there were too many. They would have . . .” He swallowed. “The skeg would have stormed the Tower after I left and . . . well . . . your mama wouldn’t have let them take her alive. I would have stayed, Addy! I would have . . . died alongside her, but she made me go. She made me promise to live so that I could watch over you and keep you safe in case this day ever came.”
Addy breathed a shuddering sigh. Her voice dropped near to a whisper. “Why tell me this? Why now?”
The Guard Captain’s eye twitched slightly, expression slacking, but he said nothing. Why wasn’t he ans—
Addy felt the blood drain from her face. “You don’t expect me to survive this.” She spoke flatly, save for a hint of betrayed anger. “All this talk of confidence in our abilities . . . and it was all lies.”
Aeric heaved a sigh. “No, it’s not like that . . . Addy, I—”
Addy shot her palm toward him, and her tone became cold steel. “Don’t . . . say anything else. It’s all quite clear to me now.” She paused, teeth clenched together. Weeks and weeks of training, and Aeric still had no confidence that she would return alive. There were no words left for him. “Good-bye, Guard Captain.” Then she turned and strode quickly through the gate.
She walked alone for a time, trailing her companions in silence. The pain must have been clear on her face, though, for Ryan first made an attempt to talk to her, and then Karine, both returning to the others after she waved them away. She had to think this through. Guard Captain Aeric’s lack of confidence was a dagger in her heart, but the odds were against her, against them all. But the real puzzle was how Mama could choose to stay at the Tower and leave her and Gevin and Papa behind. She must have felt that she had no choice. It must have been terrible for her!
She stopped abruptly on the path. If she was given that same choice, what would she do? If the Lord of Light asked her to stay at the Tower—even if it meant leaving everyone she loved behind and sacrificing herself to the skeg—would she choose not to? Would she tell the Lord no? Her heart sunk. Of course not.
But how could He allow the pain and suffering that she saw every day in so many faces? His vast knowledge and wisdom was beyond her simple understanding, but what was the purpose of all this? What was His plan? She felt tears well up in her eyes. Why had He put her in this position? Why her?
She grit her teeth and wiped away the tears. It was pointless! Those were questions without answers, and she had a difficult task before her. She heaved a sigh and broke into jog until she caught up to the others.
For a long time the company walked the path in silence, the bright midmorning sun shining hot on their backs. It was Liah that finally broke the silence. She was watching Traizen curiously before she opened her mouth to speak. “So tell us, Traizen, you’ve been here twice before.” Her voice sounded a little . . . testy. “What have you seen? What horrible monsters did you face?”
Traizen looked at her sideways. “We saw the usual canth, snakes, badgers, a few bears—though from their patchy fur it was clear they were riddled with Faege—spiders the size of my hand, grimweed . . .”
“Grimweed?” Karine came abruptly from her reverie. “What’s . . . grimweed?”
Traizen heaved a grunt and shook his head. “Nasty stuff. Looks like morning glory, the way it . . . curls around everything. But it has thorns! And you get too close, it’ll latch on to you.”
Ryan smirked. “That doesn’t sound too dangerous. I fell into a rosebush once.” He was being condescending again, the fool. Why were men always trying to goad each other on?
The large man snorted. “And so have I, but the thorns on grimweed are the length of my little finger and have barbs that make them nigh impossible to pull out. You have to dig them out with a knife or infection will set in before you know it. Then there’s the itching! I’d jump willingly into ten rosebushes before coming near grimweed again.”
Ryan’s eyes narrowed. “How do we know what you’ve told us is even true?”
Traizen’s deep-set eyes narrowed at Ryan. “Watch your mouth. If I didn’t think we needed every person here, I’d drop you right here and now.”
Ryan growled. “Maybe we don’t need you.”
Traizen made for his hammer, but Liah was suddenly between them, glaring. “Stop it . . . ! Stop it this instant!”
The two men paused, but their hands still lingered near their weapons, their eyes narrowed and faces scowling. Liah’s icy glare, though, said she’d have her own weapons out in a heartbeat if either one of them drew. “We’re not even a day out, and you two are already trying to make things harder!”
Karine nodded in agreement, hands on her hips.
Addy released the breath that had caught in her lungs. This bickering needed to stop. She stepped up to Ryan and touched his arm. He gave her a quick, sideways glance, and his face turned red. Good! He should be embarrassed.
Traizen finally let his arm fall to his side, but Ryan’s scowl remained. “You never did answer me in the bath. How is it you’ve come back twice now, alone? Will this be your third?”
In one smooth motion, Traizen swept Liah aside and brought his hammer to grasp. Ryan leaped back, his sword coming to hand. Then the two charged at each other with death in their eyes.
Addy jumped back as Traizen’s hammer—with its massive, square head—arced by her on a path to Ryan’s face. Ryan raised his sword and took the blow, but the force of it nearly knocked the blade from his grip. His eyes widened in surprise for a heartbeat, and then they narrowed again.
With a bestial roar, Ryan charged forward, his blade flashing in the light as he swung. But Traizen met each strike, blocking with the long metal handle of his hammer, sparks flying with each hit. He answered with his own attack, and Ryan countered. Then Ryan took a turn and Traizen dodged. At one point Karine tried to step between them, but was forced to duck and roll, lest her head be separated by that swiping blade.
Addy shook, a fire erupting in her middle. This was madness! “Stop it!” She roared. Then something sparked inside her, and the ground exploded.
The force of it tossed them all like tumblebrush, sending dirt and clods of grass flying upward and outward. Addy landed hard on her stomach, the wind blasting from her lungs. She had to strain just to breath. She rolled over and gasped until she could see again clearly. A dull pain throbbed in her abdomen.
Laying on her back now, Addy rolled her head. The others were on the ground as well, but they were still moving. What had happened? Had she done that? She hadn’t meant to do . . . whatever that was. Rot me, I need to control myself, or someone will end up getting seriously hurt!
Ryan rose to his feet, dirt sliding off his head and gray vest. “What in the Lord’s Light was that?” He wasn’t injured, thank the Lig
ht. He began brushing himself off. “We’re not even into the Twisted Lands, and already the ground is trying to kill us?”
Groaning, Traizen rose to a crouch and shook the dirt from his chestnut hair. “I never saw anything like that before. Of course, things out here get worse by the day.” He gave Ryan a begrudging stare, looking almost apologetic, but he didn’t say anything. Ryan’s expression was the same. It was a truce for now, tenuous though it may be.
Addy breathed a sigh. “Is everyone all right?”
Karine and Liah were on their feet now, brushing the dust from their clothes. Karine nodded, but she looked a little pale. “I’m not hurt,” she said at the same time Liah muttered, “I’m fine.” Liah’s tone, though—and the way she glared at the two men—said she’d like to take those two by their ears and dunk their heads in icy water. And she should, too! Maybe they would think first next time.
Chapter 23
The first night out beyond the gate had been miserable. The companions hadn’t yet reached the Twisted Lands, but sleeping out in the wilderness on the cold, hard ground was still far worse than the lumpy beds at the barracks. Addy had tossed and turned until first light, unable to get comfortable. She would turn one way to avoid a rock, only to roll onto another, or a twig. Or a stinging nettle.
Despite the fire they had built and kept burning all night—not just for comfort, but to also keep predators away—Addy had shivered almost nonstop. If the weight of a pack hadn’t been a concern, she would have brought a blanket on the journey. And a pillow. A pillow would have been nice.
It was midway through the second day when the foliage along the path began to take on a withered, sickly look. And the stench of rot and spoil hung the air. The trees—few and far between—were bent at awkward angles as though they were in agony, their branches reaching feebly outward where they didn’t droop altogether. The creatures there—those that they saw: a mouse here, a small rabbit there—wore ragged coats with patches of skin showing through. They crawled away slowly and awkwardly, as if the Faege had affected their muscles in some way.
As the companions walked, a faint carpet of mist swirled about their ankles, and the ground beneath their feet gave off a heat that they could feel through the soles of their boots. It was almost as unsettling as the moist crunching sound that each step produced. And this was nothing compared to what lie ahead.
Addy’s foot fell again upon something that crunched like an eggshell. Was it a bug or just a brittle twig? Then something slithered across her boot, and she bit off a shriek. Her skin crawled. Don’t look down! Keep your eyes ahead. The heroes from the books never squealed over bugs.
Her eyes turned to the Tower’s spire lancing high into the heavens, beaming red and pulsing at regular intervals. Dark angry clouds were gathering around it now, with occasional flashes of lightning dancing silver among them. Each flash was followed by the deep growl of thunder as it rolled across the plain, sending shivers up her spine.
Over her shoulder, the town appeared tiny in the distance, a small spec on the horizon with wisps of chimney smoke rising into the sky. In a few more hours it would be gone from sight altogether. The guardsmen would be atop the wall that surrounded the town, peering out in the direction they had gone. They might even be watching through their spyglasses.
Addy turned back to the way ahead, her stomach twisting at the sights around her. Some of those trees looked too much like people, their hollow faces contorted in agony, branch-arms reaching toward the sky as if begging the Lord of Light for an end to their suffering. A shudder ran through her.
Walking a pace ahead, Ryan shook his head. “Not if the bear is protecting her cubs.” He and Liah and Karine were debating what was more dangerous, a canth or a bear. But had any of them actually faced a canth, like Addy had?
Traizen walked beside Addy, his face turned outward, and the handle of his massive hammer swaying above his well-muscled shoulder. He hadn’t spoken a word for some time. What had his tongue? He was never this quiet. Was it the return to the Waste that bothered him, or was it the loss of Sorsia? The two had seemed like kindred spirits before . . . before Addy had stumbled like a fool child learning to walk, and the woman had to take a blade to save her. Guilt stabbed at her heart again. Better to think of something else.
Addy cleared her throat softly. “What are the chances we’ll run into a canth?”
Traizen did not look at her, but his eyes focused. “We’ll see them, but they’ll see us first.” He sounded grim. “They’re probably watching us right now, waiting for the perfect time to attack.”
Addy looked around. They might be stalking us already?
A smirk appeared on Traizen’s face.
Addy frowned. “Are you mocking me again? I thought we were beyond that.”
Raising his hands defensively, Traizen regarded her with a full smile, his large mouth stretched across his square face. “I meant no offense.”
Addy sighed. “I ran into a couple of canth in Old Town, if you hadn’t heard.” She turned her eyes outward again. There was no movement along the horizon, but there still might be any number of beasts hiding amid the low-lying foliage. “I almost died.”
Traizen’s expression turned interested, maybe even impressed. “Of course I heard about that. Everyone did. You’re lucky to be alive.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Saved by a skeg, eh? Bloody rot, that must have been something.”
The scar on her shoulder seemed to itch suddenly. It did that whenever skeg were mentioned. “About the skeg . . .” How could she put it without sounding . . . weak? “At the barracks, I—”
Traizen bent from his towering height to look into her eyes. “I don’t blame you for what happened to Sorsia, Princess.” There was only a hint of mockery in the way he said “princess.” He had taken to calling her that more often, now that Sorsia was gone. “No one blames you. Not me, not the others here, not even the Guard Captain. No one. If you try to make sense why bad things happen, you’ll drive yourself mad. I know.” He stood straight again, his deep-set, dark eyes turning to the horizon.
Addy breathed a sigh. “I regret that we never became friends, her and I.”
Traizen nodded. “Don’t kick yourself over it. Sorsia didn’t want friends. I think she only just tolerated me because we’d been together in the barracks for a while. That didn’t make us friends, though.” He paused for a moment, his mouth working at unsaid words. Then he turned to her with a smirk on his wide lips. “She’ll come back to haunt me for saying this, but I think you’re one of the few she did like.”
Addy blinked. Sorsia liked her? How was that possible? The woman had teased and mocked her relentlessly. She was even cruel at times, especially in the beginning.
Suddenly, Traizen reached toward her, his arm snaking around like a snake coiling its prey. Addy flinched. “What are you doing?”
Traizen pulled his arm away. “Relax, Princess.” He showed her his dagger, and on its point—pierced and wriggling—was a very large, leathery spider. He grinned. “No thanks needed”. Then he whipped the blade, flinging the spider onto the ground at his feet, the hideous thing making a feeble attempt to crawl away before it crunched beneath Traizen’s boot.
Addy squirmed, her skin itching as if the hideous thing were still crawling on her. “Thanks,” she muttered, her cheeks growing hot.
The day wore on with the conversations ranging from bugs to oddly shaped trees to the Lelacs’ baked honeybuns. And the farther they walked, the more twisted the land became. At one point, Karine had walked a little too close to something resembling a sunflower, and its petals had bent suddenly like clawed fingers, before it lurched forward in an attempt to grab her. Since then, they had avoided any plants taller than their ankles. But even the shorter ones, they eyed warily.
When the sun was just a red sliver on the horizon before them, they stopped and broke camp for the night. On the first night, Liah and Ryan had wanted to continue after dark to make the best of their time, but Traizen h
ad warned them that the canth were more active after the sun went down; that, and twisting or breaking an ankle out here could easily mean death.
Addy lie huddled beside the fire, her head nestled into the crook of her arm. Yes, a pillow would have been nice, very nice. The others were quiet, except for Traizen, who was already snoring like thunder. He had the amazing ability to fall asleep the moment he was reclined. Was that something he could teach her? Her eyelids were heavy, the glow of the fire soothing. She closed her eyes.
A throne of bones sat before her, the same throne she had dreamed of before. She stood before it, dressed in an unfamiliar, pale green dress. Had it belonged to her mama? No matter.
As before, a pale light shone from somewhere above, illuminating a small area around her and the throne. No one else was here, but beyond the circle of light was complete darkness, so someone could easily have been watching her from those shadows. This is just a dream, Addy. You can wake up anytime. Yet there didn’t seem to be any threats here at the moment, no hulking skeg warriors or their lithe women. Perhaps she’d stay for a moment.
“It can be yours, if you want it.” The female’s voice, soft and seductive, sounded from somewhere in the shadows.
Addy’s heart skipped. That voice! It was the skeg woman from her dream. She turned her eyes to the shadows. Nothing but darkness. She turned her eyes back to the throne. “I don’t want it.” Her voice was calm, despite her heart racing. Why would she want that hideous thing? It made her skin crawl!
The pale woman stepped slowly into view, emerging from the curtain of blackness with a flowing grace. She seemed somehow younger than she had in the dream before, with high cheek bones and a graceful slope to her jaw. The only thing that spoiled her appearance was her hawkish nose, but the woman was still quite beautiful. Her lithe form, standing calm and confident—one knee slightly bent—was nude to the waist, wearing only a narrow, furred loincloth. Her head was mostly bald with a top-braid of stark-white hair that fell loosely down her back, and a necklace—all fangs and polished blue stones—hung low between her breasts.
