Hidden: Tales of Ryca, Book 1

by Shereen Vedam

  “Anna.”

  “What?”

  “The attack on me tonight suggests this murderer can defend himself, or herself, with magic.”

  “I thought you said it was a woman with Aton?”

  “A woman was with him shortly before he was killed but I didn’t see her actually stab him. He was upset with her.”

  “Did you recognize her? You’ve spoken to lots of Erovians today, was it one of them?”

  “It could have been Mayla but it was hard to tell. I think someone was controlling her. Her features kept wavering. I need to talk to her. Ask her some questions.” She tugged free of her sister, wanting to go to that Erovian woman now, but she didn’t know where her quarters were. “Did you know that, after us, Mayla was the first to arrive at the murder scene? She was the one who screamed.”

  “Talk to her tomorrow,” Anna said. “Right this moment, one look at you would send anyone off screaming. We don’t need that happening two nights in a row.”

  Gilly accepted that advice and allowed Anna to support her to her room. Considering how shaky she felt, she wasn’t surprised that she looked terrible. She was still reeling at her sister’s extraordinary healing ability. She wished my eyes back to the way as they were, and it just happened?

  Once they reached Gilly’s room, instead of leaving, Anna stayed to wash away the blood from Gilly’s face and helped her into bed, all the while, scolding her.

  Despite her gruff words, Anna’s voice was as comforting as her touch. Gilly lay among her silken pillows, more troubled by what she’d seen in that circle of candlelight than the attack on her sight, or even Anna’s healing. Even if she had no proof of Tom’s innocence, she now had a viable suspect besides him.

  It had been hard to tell in the dark but the one facing Aton had looked a lot like Mayla. Yet not Mayla. If she had killed Aton, the girl had not acted under her own auspices. Also, Gilly still had no proof of Tom’s innocence.

  If she accused Mayla without proof, she would incur the wrath of Lord Jarrod and all of Erov, and probably on her family too. Where did that leave Tom? At death’s door, that’s where. By morning, he would be executed and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

  Warm tears soothed the lingering ache in her eyes, but the sorrow in her heart grew deeper.

  Anna’s footsteps retreated. Her sister was returning to her husband. Gilly owed Anna a heartfelt thank you for not abandoning her at that alcove, for healing her, for taking care of her afterwards. She wanted to at least say good night. The words that slipped out were, “Please don’t leave me.”

  Anna’s steps halted, hesitated for all of three slow heartbeats, and then, remarkably, she returned to Gilly’s side. Her sister pushed the covers aside and crawled in beside her and wrapped her arm around Gilly’s waist and pulled her close.

  “Thank you,” Gilly whispered, relishing the comfort of having her sister hold her.

  “You can’t save him,” Anna said.

  At that flat but accurate statement, she shuddered and shut her eyes. “I know.”

  “No one ever expected that you could save everyone.”

  Her sister’s matter-of-fact words burst open the floodgates of grief that Gilly had kept boarded up for twenty years at her utter failure to save Mam and Tamara and Garren. Her shoulders shook, her sobs refused to stay silent, and her tears fell free. Mortified by her breakdown, she pulled away but Anna held her tight, refusing to allow her to grieve alone. Finally exhausted, but also strangely comforted, Gilly drifted off to asleep.

  She wasn’t sure how long she slept but a sense of extreme unease brought her suddenly wide-awake. It was still dark inside the tent. All was silent outside. Beside her, Anna slept curled up with her arms tucked in. In lieu of light to show her what had awoken her, Gilly sent her inner sight scouting. Her wards had dissipated overnight like a fire dying; she hadn’t had the energy to strengthen them before turning in. A foolish mistake.

  Close to the tent flap that led out to the corridor, her mind brushed a shadow so foul her pulse leaped in alarm. She scrambled up, kicking the blankets aside. She tangled with a long pillow and tumbled to the floor, jarring her ankle with a painful thud.

  Anna gave a startled cry and sat up. “What’s happening?”

  “Stay down.” Before she finished speaking, the intruder was beside her and sent a vicious kick that struck Gilly’s lame leg above her knee.

  Excruciating pain stabbed her thigh and Gilly scrambled away from her attacker and closer to the bed.

  A second kick came but swiped empty air, missing Gilly.

  Voices sounded outside Gilly’s curtained room and lantern lights flared. Help was coming, thank the Light.

  Gilly could now see and recognized Mayla. The woman’s eyes were glowing unnaturally, her wild hair flared behind her like a dark curtain as she raised a dagger.

  Anna, the foolish woman, lunged at Mayla’s midriff, and sent both of them rolling. The dagger skittered across the floor.

  Ignoring her pain, Gilly grabbed for the weapon as Mayla lunged at Gilly.

  Anna scrambled off the floor and jumped onto the intruder’s back. Gilly rolled out of the way and then joined her sister in subduing Mayla. Between them, they sat over the struggling, cursing, Erovian girl until help finally rushed in.

  * * *

  Lord Jarrod called another meeting to ascertain what had taken place in Gilly’s room that night. His long curly black hair looked rumpled and knotted and several sleep lines marred his smooth dark cheeks giving a terrifying cast to his frown.

  Gilly barely had time to run her fingers through her hair before she was summoned to the tent where they’d all last discussed the events of Aton’s murder. She avoided Lord Jarrod’s “why aren’t you sitting beside me” gaze and planted herself beside Tom. Her leg still throbbed from being struck. Anna had offered to help with the pain, but Gilly refused.

  She wasn’t ready to let anyone near her game leg yet. Maybe soon, though. Anna’s concern was hard to resist. After years of being scorned by her sister, their new close relationship was both warm and wonderful.

  Tom’s hand slipped over hers and he squeezed her fingers in appreciation of her support.

  Anna was on Gilly’s other side and beside her sat Marton and the children. Cullen and Talus were across the room on the other arm of the three-sided table. The room was again filled with Erovians, most standing at the rear. Mayla stood in the center of the room. Although she had recently fought the woman, Gilly was disturbed by her bound hands and head bowed in defeat.

  Lord Jarrod called the meeting to order. His gaze was filled with confusion and sorrow as he gazed at his betrothed. “What have you to say, Mayla?”

  She did not respond.

  “You must have an explanation for your actions tonight.” He sounded imploring.

  Gilly’s heart squeezed with sympathy. He’d lost his father and now the woman he was to marry had attacked a guest.

  Mayla turned to Gilly and there was such hatred on her face, Gilly’s stomach clenched.

  “I had to avenge Lord Aton’s death.”

  “But it is the man Tom who is accused of my father’s killing, Mayla,” Lord Jarrod said, “not Lady Saira-Gilly.”

  She pointed at Gilly. “She killed him. I know she did. If we don’t stop her, she’ll kill us all.”

  Gilly shivered at the menace in her eyes.

  “I speak the truth.” Mayla sent Lord Jarrod a defiant look. “Would you believe an outsider over one of your own? One whom you promised to love?”

  Lord Jarrod leaned back, shock on his face.

  Gilly was floored by that artful plea. No matter how formally and politely Lord Jarrod treated her, surely he wouldn’t accept her word over his betrothed’s? Except, this wasn’t the real Mayla speaking. Of that she was certain.

  “Truth,” Lord Jarrod said in a deep somber voice, “is Erov’s sacred trust. We are the truth sayers of Ryca.”

  As he spoke, Gilly’s ears rang with a
n ominous clang. She released Tom to cover her ears.

  Anna, too, looked uncomfortable, shaking her head and swiping her hands over her ears as if a fly were buzzing nearby. Even Bevan and Skye were crouching as if in pain.

  “See!” Mayla said. “The evil ones are affected by your sacred words. That proves what I say is true.”

  With a guilty start, Gilly dropped her hands to her side.

  “We are an ancient people,” Lord Jarrod said, “with old laws and ways of assaying the truth of matters.”

  He gestured to his aide. A tall man ran to retrieve an overflowing tome from a nearby table and brought it over.

  The tome’s pages stuck out at odd angles. Jarrod straightened the pages, but for all his efforts, the pages looked as jumbled as before he started. With a sigh, he gave up his efforts to organize the book and looked up.

  “Here,” he tapped the cover, “lies a record of Ryca’s history. Falcon’s Tome is named after our ancestor who was first charged with keeping the records of this land’s passage. It recounts many truths, and most recently, it had been my father’s honor to trace the tale of Ywen the Blind.”

  “How dare you insult our king?” Cullen’s voice, dagger sharp, sliced toward Lord Jarrod.

  Talus, too, looked startled, his concerned gaze trained on Lord Jarrod. As a King’s Warrior, he must feel bound to challenge over that name slight. Though he didn’t say a word, his grip on his sword tightened, his knuckles showing white.

  “I but name the king as it is recorded,” Jarrod said, in an unruffled tone. “These pages may only contain truth.”

  “You take much liberty, my lord.” Cullen jumped to his feet. “Noting a term as ‘truth’ doesn’t make it so.”

  A collective gasp erupted from the Erovians.

  Lord Jarrod’s cold stare sent a shiver up Gilly’s spine. She was grateful to not be the one under that censure. Nor Tom. She reflexively squeezed his fingers. He returned the pressure.

  “You are forgiven your outburst, sir,” Lord Jarrod said in his calm tone, “since you are unfamiliar with Erov’s customs and traditions. Allow me to enlighten you. Only the truth can be recorded in Falcon’s Tome,”

  “That stinks of magic.” Cullen crossed his arms. “Talus, as a King’s Warrior, are you not responsible for upholding the king’s laws?”

  Talus stood, hand on his sword hilt. He looked irritated at being drawn into this drama but wasn’t shying away. “What you say does suggest a banned practice, Lord Jarrod.”

  Gilly held her breath, her chest tight as Lord Jarrod and Talus stared at each other. The fingertips on her free hand began to tingle. She glanced down and discovered dots of Light dancing on that palm. Her gaze flew to Cullen and Talus but both were focused on Lord Jarrod. The young Chief Councilor of Erov, on the other hand, was looking at her with a tiny smile curling his lips upward.

  Heart hammering, she clenched her left fist to quench the magic. What had she planned? To fling a spell at Cullen or Talus? The image that immediately came to mind was of both men being hurled far across the Erovian desert.

  The shuffle of feet and knees bumping against her back had Gilly checking behind her. The Erovians had moved closer to her, leaving Cullen and Talus standing alone on one side of the room. Had one or more of them put that idea of hurling Cullen away into her mind? If so, they’d done it strongly enough for her to reach for her magic without even being aware of it.

  Lord Jarrod’s focus turned to Talus and he shrugged nonchalantly. “What ancient custom of one people is not like magic to another? We travel from place to place recording the history of life while the people of Perm have homes tunneled into the ground, as if to root them in place. The merchants of Tibor sail to far off places returning with amazing items that turn wheels as if by magic. The farmers of Nadym rely on the passing of the sun and seasons, which cannot be explained but by the magical whimsy of life itself.”

  “He has a point,” Talus said to Cullen.

  “No, he doesn’t,” Cullen said, stubborn to the end.

  “Above all,” Lord Jarrod continued as if the minstrel had not spoken, “we prize truth, and our records reflect that belief. Is that so magical, a King’s Warrior must intervene?

  “No, it is not.” Talus sat down.

  Gilly released a relieved sigh. A slight breeze at her back suggested many Erovians did likewise.

  Cullen’s mouth was a flat line of anger but he returned to his seated position.

  “Good,” Lord Jarrod said. “Then let us resume our discussion. We have gathered here to discover the truth of what happened to Lord Aton. The question raised is whether to believe Mayla, a woman of our culture, and one who, over the years, has shown herself to be an honest aide to my father and a true friend to me.”

  He opened his tome and the pages fluttered of their own accord for far longer than one could comfortably term, natural. Finally, as Gilly was bracing herself for another outburst from Cullen, the pages fell open at about two thirds of the way into the book.

  Cullen grunted, but otherwise kept silent.

  Perhaps because Talus was so busy tending to his fingernails, he couldn’t be accused of noticing that over-long fluttering of pages.

  Anna rolled her eyes at Gilly.

  Lord Jarrod placed his finger on a notation. “The accused is Tomas.” He looked at Tom. “He is not from Nadym as he claims.”

  “You’re mistaken in that,” Anna said with a frown. “He is from my village. We are not close, but I’ve known Tom all of my life and I’m from Nadym.”

  “These proceedings would go faster if each statement I make is not questioned.” Lord Jarrod gave her a cross look. “Falcon’s Tome has a record of all births, of all Rycan people. Tomas the Brave is not from Nadym.”

  “The Brave?” Anna gave a laugh. “How can you expect us to believe what you say, when it so clearly contradicts what we know?”

  “She is correct,” Tom said. “I’m not brave. Tomas the Coward would be more accurate.”

  “Tomas the Brave,” Lord Jarrod continued, “Apprentice to King’s Warrior and Child of Tibor, is accused of the murder of my father, Lord Aton, the late Chief Councilor of Erov.”

  Everyone stared at Tom. The weak and slender man didn’t look as if he knew what a sword looked like never mind how to wield one. His gaze met and tangled with Lord Jarrod’s. Tom was the first to look away.

  Gilly, frowning, gazed from Tom to Talus, comparing that King’s Warrior’s broad frame to Tom’s slender form.

  As if he’d noticed her evaluation, Tom pulled his hand out of her grasp. Gilly clenched her empty fist with remorse.

  “Defending Tomas, is Lady Saira-Gilly.” Lord Jarrod nodded to her. “Child of Ryca and Defender of the Light.”

  Anna’s peal of laughter rang through the room. Her husband poked her ribs and she covered her mouth to hold in her humor. Her gaze remained filled with mirth.

  Gilly was more curious than amused. Was that really how she was referred to in that tome? Had Aton seen her in that absurd manner? That might explain why he, and Lord Jarrod, treated her so royally. What strange people these Erovians were. This was the truth that would determine if Tom had murdered Aton?

  “One of you knows what happened to my father,” Lord Jarrod said. “One of you is lying. It would be easy for me to say that Mayla speaks the truth and the stranger Tom is the liar and murderer, as Mayla has accused him. Since Lady Saira-Gilly insists on Tom’s innocence, the matter is more complicated.”

  “How so?” Cullen asked. “Isn’t she just as much a stranger to you as Tom?”

  Gilly could have kicked him.

  “Lady Saira-Gilly is the Defender of the Light,” Lord Jarrod said, as if that answered the question. It didn’t to Gilly’s mind, nor by their confused looks did it satisfy her family and their companions. However, all the Erovians, except for Mayla, nodded as if in perfect agreement.

  “Before this day is ended,” Lord Jarrod said, “I will know which of you speaks the
truth. To determine this, we will utilize an ancient Erovian custom called the Telling Ceremony, which will guide us toward the one who can be trusted, and the one who must be executed for my father’s murder. Each of you, in the order of Mayla, Tomas and Lady Saira-Gilly, will recite a portion of the history of Ryca that you have experienced in your life. The recitation will be checked against Falcon’s Tome for veracity.”

  At his gesture, a few Erovian women stepped closer and led Mayla, Tom, and Gilly to the center of the room. The tables were removed and everyone gathered around them, until Lord Jarrod and the crowd stood facing the accused, his defender and the accuser.

  Chapter 7

  “Let the Telling Ceremony begin,” Lord Jarrod said.

  A young woman clicked a small golden cymbal between her thumb and forefinger. Its note rang clear in the silent room. Flames flared in unison from sconces scattered about the room.

  Cullen’s eyes narrowed and Gilly’s pulse sped up.

  “Mayla, you will speak first,” Lord Jarrod said.

  With eyes as blank as a trout out of water too long, the dark-skinned Erovian woman took two steps closer to him, her long black curly hair swinging about her shoulders. She looked different from earlier. Less aware of her surroundings, as if instead of merely influencing her actions and words, someone had reached out and snatched full control.

  “Are you well enough to speak?” he asked.

  She raised her head and replied in a monotone. “I am well, my lord.”

  Lord Jarrod looked as unconvinced as Gilly but he continued. “My father loved you as a daughter, and encouraged us to join as one to chronicle the passing of time. We played as children, learned lessons together, and believe the same history. Yet, custom dictates that I ask you to repeat a piece of history. Mayla, how was Prince Keegan the Blessed rent from our world?”

  Mayla spoke with a soft, mesmerizing voice. “The prince lay sleeping innocently in his bed when his wife, overtaken by evil, used glamour to seduce him. In a maddened frenzy, she then stabbed him with a charmed weapon that tore through the prince’s magical defenses and pierced his heart.”