Cam never met Jag, not before this. Jag wasn’t that old, and Cam had been taken and turned right after the last Harbinger was killed.
He knew his mother would welcome him and Jag with open arms—but Cam? That he wasn’t so sure of.
During one of their breaks throughout the day, Light hung back, moving to Cam’s side. Cam’s cloudy amber stare scanned the area, surveying it constantly. He wore the haunted expression of a survivor, the expression never falling from his face. Light studied his grey skin, the metallic paint that kept the sun’s rays from burning his flesh. The Ulen kept mostly to their underground kingdom…except when they hunted. Now, by Elven mandate, the Ulen could not hunt and kill other intelligent races. Animals were fair game, but those walking on two legs were unacceptable.
Did they listen to the Elven mandate? Probably not. They were far, far from Springsweet. The only reason the Court proclaimed the mandate was because of Cam and his squad, because of the Harbinger.
Everyone knew but no one wanted to say it, and Light certainly wasn’t going to be the one to speak it. Cam’s haunted face was sign enough of what happened all those years ago.
“You think you’ll be okay?” Light asked him. It took all of his willpower not to flinch when Cam brought his Ulen gaze upon him. Deep down he was still his brother, but no one trusted the Ulen, for good reason.
“I never believed I’d go back,” Cam spoke quietly, moving his weight from one foot to the other, the pack slung across his back hanging more off his left shoulder. “I don’t want to, still.”
Light sought to comfort him, though he was no good at doing such things. “You don’t have to. You can hang back while we stake out the area. We’re just going there because the Malus are close—but you know how they are. They’re nomads. They wander.” Yes, in fact, they still might have quite the journey ahead of them before they found the particular tribe they were looking for, the tribe who might be able to point them in the direction of the Cave of Memories.
Light himself wasn’t even certain it was a real place. Anything sounding as eerie and strange as the Cave of Memories should be a well-known place, right? A part of him hoped Faith was wrong in leading them here, but then, where else would they go? They had nowhere to go, not while the Elven people believed her to be Bul’ara’s killer. They would be out of luck if this proved to be a dead end.
What would they do? Where would they go? This was Light’s first fellowship, and hopefully his last, so he had no ideas. Traveling to the borders of Alyna on a quest for some old cave seemed like just a good a plan as any.
“We will find them,” Cam said. “We have to.”
Light crossed his arms, not particularly a fan of how downtrodden Cam was. Was there nothing that could lift his spirits? Nothing to get him out of this funk? “Cam—”
He cut in, already knowing what Light was about to say, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Then please, tell me what I can do to help you through this,” Light said, sluggishly moving to grasp Cam by the shoulder. Whereas another Elf like Light would’ve been all skin and bone, Cam’s shoulder was surprisingly thick with sinewy muscle beneath his dark ensemble of clothing and straps. “When was the last time you’ve…” He coughed. “You know, fed?” He didn’t like talking about it, let alone think about it.
Cam shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t need to eat as often as you.” He hadn’t eaten any of the game Light and Jag had caught throughout the journey, preferring to sit and watch. Light was fairly sure he hadn’t seen Cam eat once.
Though he didn’t want to say it, Light offered, “If you have to, you can—”
“No,” Cam quickly said, stepping away from him. There was more force behind the single word than in anything he’d said in the entire time he’d been back. “No.” Calmer, this time. “I won’t cross that line with you. I won’t cross it with any of you.”
Were all Ulen so reserved? In the stories Light heard, Ulen were vicious and bloodthirsty. He didn’t want to include his brother in their numbers, so he was glad Cam was not the stereotypical Ulen.
“We are not all animals,” Cam spoke defensively. “We can control ourselves. It is not that difficult, when you put your mind to it.”
Not wanting to further offend him, Light said, “Of course. I didn’t mean to—”
“No, you didn’t,” Cam said, walking away. “You never do.”
Light watched him leave with levels of confusion rising in his body. Cam never was so prickly and easy to agitate when he was still an Elf. He knew he couldn’t blame him for his actions, for perhaps what Light said was out of line. Light didn’t know the ins and outs of Ulen society and courtesy.
Was it wrong to speak of feeding? That’s what it was. Blood-drinking. It wasn’t exactly the same as eating a roasted animal.
A strong presence stood beside him, saying softly, “Was he always so dour?”
Glancing to Jag, Light said, “No, I don’t think so. But I was young at the time. I may not be remembering things correctly.” After Cam was turned, ages went by before they started writing to each other. A black bird would arrive some afternoons, a letter attached to its orange feet, and it would wait as Light read and responded to it. What had happened in those years when he didn’t hear from Cam?
“How do you think Sellyn will take it?” Jag brought up their mother. “Do you think she’ll welcome him back?”
“He is her son.”
“He is Ulen. He is not her son, not anymore. She hasn’t seen him since…” Jag trailed off, which was probably for the best. It should go unsaid.
There were a lot of things better left unsaid.
The days wore on. They came upon the familiar stone hut, all alone in the center of a field of yellow and orange flowers, sometime in the early afternoon. The sun was warm on Light’s back, the temperature higher than it was in Springsweet. No trees in the area, no signs this was an Elf’s home—no rune-carved doors or paneled glass.
His parents built it from nothing. They left Springsweet because they did not enjoy the gatherings and the reverie Elven kind were so obsessed with. They wanted somewhere different, another place where they could raise any children they had far from the Court’s influence. It was the reason Light did not know how to play politics quite like the other Elves, and it was also the reason he had a good friend in Jag, a Malus, a race the Elvenkind scarcely dealt with.
Most Elves thought Malus were barbarians. They moved from place to place in different tribes, did not farm or barter or any of the other things necessary for a true society. The Court was always against recognizing them as their own kingdom, but they were numerous enough—and strong enough—to merit it.
Once he saw the hut, Light held out his hand, stopping the others behind him. “Wait here,” he said. He wanted to be the first to find his mother and explain to her why they were there, why Cam was with them, that he wasn’t a danger to her.
Also he wished to hug his mother without Finn seeing and teasing him. Was it so wrong Light missed her? He wasn’t certain how Humans were with their mothers. Faith didn’t seem too close to hers, though he knew Faith was not a normal Human in any way.
Light headed toward the front door, knocking once before entering. “Mother, it’s Weylon. I have…” His explanation trailed off when he noticed the thick layer of dust coating every surface in the front room. The furniture looked as though it hadn’t been used in years.
Images of finding his mother in the house, dead and decaying, entered his mind, and Light was quick to push them out. He searched the whole hut, poked his head through the window in the back to where the small garden used to sit. It was nothing but weeds and flowers now.
For a moment, Light froze as he contemplated the possibilities. She wasn’t here, hadn’t been for a long time. It didn’t mean she was dead. She could be with the Malus. A home without her children or his father might’ve been too much for her. His father’s grave was in the center of the field of flowers, after a
ll. Perhaps she just didn’t want to see it anymore.
Light closed his eyes, inhaling slowly to calm his nerves. He knew what he had to do.
Chapter Six
It didn’t take a psychic or a fortune teller to know something wasn’t right. Faith was neither, yet she was still able to discern the worry dotting Light’s features like a mask as he exited the house. He had a hand on the dagger on his hip, his other hand hanging uselessly at his side.
“Something’s wrong,” Cam whispered.
That, Faith frowned, was more than obvious. She didn’t need advanced Ulen senses to know it.
Next to her, Jag muttered, “Don’t tell us she’s—”
“She’s not here,” Light cut in, causing Jag to sigh in relief.
“Thank the kingdoms. I was getting ready to offer to dig a hole.”
Light gave him a stern look. “You might still have to, depending on what I find.” Just as the chatty Jag was about to say more, he added, “I’m going to scout the area, see if I can find where she went.”
“She didn’t write a letter or leave a note with any clues?” Jag asked, more hopeful than he should be, and the way Light narrowed his eyes at him was enough of an answer. “Fine, but I’m going with you.”
“No, you stay here with Faith.”
Jag wasn’t having any of it. “And if you should run into any Malus tribes? Don’t you think you should, perhaps, have a Malus with you? One who is as well and universally loved as me?” He gave Faith a lopsided grin as he spoke the last part, to which she gave him an unimpressed look.
It was a while until Light caved in, “Fine. But if anything should happen to Faith while we’re gone, I will hold you personally responsible.”
Jag huffed, pointing to Cam and Finn. “What about them?”
“Yeah, what about us?” Finn said, crossing his arms. “Are we chopped liver or something?”
“Fine,” Light amended, “I’ll hold you all responsible.” He moved before Faith, intertwining their fingers, which caused Finn to groan beside them. “You are okay with staying here, right? No offense meant, but I can move a lot faster without you.”
Faith knew Cam, out of all of them, could move the fastest, but she also knew Cam’s presence might be unwelcome. It was best if Light and Jag went, and Faith, Cam and Finn remained here. She was slow to nod as her memories flashed back to the night when she saw a vision of the Dread King.
He was following them. How far behind was he? How long would it take for him to catch up to them? If he made it to the cabin while Cam, Finn and Faith were playing house while the others were gone…
“Do you love your mother?” Faith asked softly, staring into Light’s deep blue gaze. She could easily get lost in eyes like his—and she had more than once—but now was not the time.
“I,” Light paused, the confusion plain across his face, “I do.”
Faith nodded again. She’d figured as much, and she was a little jealous. “Then you need to go find her.” She squeezed his fingers, rubbing her thumb on his knuckles as she tugged him down and gave him a quick kiss. After their lips parted, she said, “But be fast about it, will you?” She smiled.
“I will be as fast as I can,” he told her, grinning in return as he stepped away, locking eyes with Cam as Jag took his place before her.
“I hope my sendoff’s better than that,” Jag mused, practically grinning ear to ear.
“Just for saying that, you’re not getting anything,” Faith said as she turned up her nose. Two could play the games he did. “Actually, no. Maybe I’ll give Finn your goodbye kiss.” She deadpanned it, earning a scowl from Jag and a roll of the eyes from Finn. Spinning on her heels, she marched to Finn. “Bend down, Finn, let me give you a big—” She couldn’t even finish her sentence, for Jag had grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her to him, smashing her against his chest and his putting lips on hers.
The Malus could definitely take charge, couldn’t he? A hard union of their lips that sent away all her thoughts about the Dread King, all jealousies of the relationship Light had with his mother. She could hardly think, as if the world faded away.
Once the kiss had sufficiently taken the air from her lungs, Jag pulled away, muttering, “No Finn.” And then he looked at said Human and added, “No Faith for you.” Jag returned his stare to Faith, and for a moment, no one moved or said anything more, not until Light jostled his shoulder, tugging him away from her.
“Jag, if you’re coming, we have to move. I don’t want to waste any time,” Light said. The bow slung across his back swayed with the movement, and Faith hoped he wouldn’t have to use any of the arrows resting in his quiver.
She also hoped they’d be gone for a few hours and then return, but somehow, someway, she already knew it’d take longer.
When Light and Jag were walking away, Faith muttered, “I hope they find her.”
“Me too,” Cam said. “Sellyn is a good woman. She was a good mother to us.”
“She still is your mother,” she said, shooting a look to Finn for backup. Why she did it, she couldn’t say. Faith didn’t expect any help from the guy. He was only there to be a pain in her ass and to kiss her at inappropriate times—which was all the time, because he wasn’t part of their group. Part of her fellowship, sure, but not one of her guys.
“No.” Cam shook his head, heading for the house. “My mother is death, and my father is blood.”
She stood, motionless, watching him disappear inside as Finn muttered, “Cheery. Never knew you liked them broody.” She gave him a glare. “If I start to brood more, will you—” He nearly doubled over when Faith socked him in the gut.
“The answer to that will always be no,” she said.
Not having a single thing more to say to the bastard, Faith joined Cam in the house. He was already cleaning. Faith picked up a broom, a shoddily-made broom she wasn’t sure how well it would sweep, but a broom nonetheless. The moment Finn walked in, she threw it at him and said, “Make yourself useful.”
Finn mumbled something unintelligible, and Faith gave him a forced smile before joining Cam in the kitchen. She went into the back and got a bucket of water from a nearby well, using it to wash the crusty dishes and wipe the countertops. The house had a few bedrooms, but they were impossibly small. Almost closet-sized. Room enough for bunk beds and that was it, save for what must’ve been Sellyn’s room, because its bed was a double, and it had enough space to have a large dresser.
This whole place must’ve taken ages to build, for there were no trees around to carve furniture out of and no stone boulders to fashion into bricks. Faith couldn’t even imagine doing all that work. Cleaning it from top to bottom was work enough.
At least if Light and Jag found her, she’d come home to a clean house.
They were done by the time the sun set and darkness enveloped the Second. They sat in the kitchen near the fire pit, mugs of water in front of each of them, gotten from the well and boiled just in case. They’d been too busy cleaning to go hunt; Cam said he would do it first thing in the morning, which meant Faith got some alone time with Finn.
Yay. She couldn’t wait. She just loved spending time with Finn.
“How long do you think they’ll be gone?” Faith asked no one in particular.
“It depends what they find. If signs point to the Malus tribes, it may be days,” Cam said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Days.
Again, her mind wandered to Dracyrus. This was the perfect time for him to catch up to them, it was true. But what could she have done—told Light his mother wasn’t important, that he shouldn’t worry about her? He loved her, for goodness sakes. Stopping him from trying to find her would be a bitch move, one Faith didn’t want to make, even if there was a realm to save.
She wasn’t cruel. She wasn’t like Dracyrus, no matter what the Dracon had said.
Without another word, she stood and meandered to the back door, slipping out of it while holding her mug of water. It wasn’t a completel
y dark night. All around her, the yellow and orange flowers seemed to glow a beautiful bioluminescent hue. Insects that were three times the size of the fireflies back home bounced from flower to flower, their thoraxes lighting up in various shades of blue. A mini-glowing rainbow before her.
Faith leaned on the wall of the house, closing her eyes. How long was it since she’d dreamt of previous lives that weren’t hers? She felt disconnected to them, she felt…well, she wasn’t quite sure what she felt. She kind of felt alone, even though she knew she wasn’t, in the technical sense.
Was this how it was for every Harbinger, touch and go? Or was she doing it wrong? It wasn’t like being the Harbinger came with a manual. She wasn’t given tips and tricks for her destiny. If only it were that easy, if only there was a guide. A thick, hardcover how-to book: The Harbinger For Dummies.
But there wasn’t, and she was just a girl from the Academy. She was just stumbling around, grasping at straws while hoping she made the right decisions. It was one thing to go on a hunt unprepared and unsanctioned, another thing entirely to have the fate of another realm on her shoulders. Other Harbingers gathered armies; she spent her time on the run. It was no contest who was the worst Harbinger.
She was.
Faith Blackwell was, without a doubt, the worst Harbinger the Second had ever seen.
Was it because she was a girl? Because she was young? In her dreams, every past memory she lived had felt like she was in the body of an older man, with tired and broken bones. Middle-aged men with arms as thick as her thighs. Yeah, Faith definitely was nothing like them.
And, for that matter, why was she the Harbinger? Why not literally anyone else? Surely there were more capable students in her class at the Academy—
The Dread King: A Reverse Harem Fantasy (The Harbinger Book 3) Page 4
