She slid down to the floor, her legs suddenly unable to hold her weight. “Oh gods, what have I done?”
Chapter Sixteen
Ryliann stood on the edge of the clearing and watched Ilythra. She seemed preoccupied, not as vibrant as she usually was. An arrow flew and hit the target with a pronounced thud. Ilythra glanced up and frowned. His men were supposed to practice withdrawing the arrows from the quiver and notching them. Over and over. It was mind-numbing and repetitive. But he couldn’t argue with the necessity.
A red-faced man glanced in her direction. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
Ilythra shrugged. Dark circles rimmed her eyes and there was a vulnerability about her he’d never seen before. Concern weighed down his thoughts. He’d been a fool. He knew it. She’d beaten him fair and square and could probably beat him had he given his all. She didn’t just wear a warrior’s clothes. The woman was as much a warrior as he was. He pictured her standing over him, sword drawn, her face set in angry assurance. His blood surged at the memory. He had never seen such a beautiful woman. He’d wanted to pull her down next to him.
“Continue,” Ilythra called.
Varying looks of pained endurance fixed to their faces, but his men did as they were told.
One thing he did know. He owed her an apology. Slowly he walked toward her.
“Prince.” She didn’t look at him. “Are you here to practice?”
He’d put in his time earlier that day and his fingertips were still sore. “No. I came to apologize.”
She faced him and for a moment her mask slipped. Gray eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly. He’d surprised her.
He hid an inappropriate smile. “I was wrong. Please know it wasn’t that I doubted your ability.”
Her jaw set in its usual stubborn line. “Oh, you doubted my ability. You thought because I’m a woman and weaker than you, that you might hurt me.”
He considered her words. “That’s true.”
She faced him. “You weren’t wrong. But I’ve practiced against stronger men my entire life. What you should apologize for was failing to follow a command. You may be a prince, but here, I’m in charge.”
Ryliann blinked. She had a point.
She watched the men for a moment then looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “How often have you been told to do something and obeyed without question?”
He hesitated. “Not often.”
She nodded. “If your men don’t learn to do that, they will die.” Her voice was without emotion, yet Ryliann knew she cared. More and more she was a mystery to him. She glanced at the sun. He followed her gaze. The golden sphere descended in the heavens to brush the tips of distant evergreen trees. For a moment, he imagined the ancient trees, touched by the fiery orb, bursting into flame.
She turned her gaze to the forest. Arien approached from the path as though summoned. Ilythra took a deep breath and met his gaze. “I accept your apology.” She turned her attention back to the men. “That’s good. Take a break. I will see you again at sunrise.”
The warriors wandered off, grumbling about Dawn Children slave drivers.
Ryliann remained by Ilythra’s side. He could almost feel her tension. “They are tired and they’ll be sore tomorrow, but I saw improvement,” he said.
Her eyes seemed to see something far into the distance. For some reason he wanted to pull her in his arms and comfort her. “There’ll need to be many more days such as this before they are ready,” Ilythra reminded him.
Ryliann dipped his head in acknowledgment and turned to Arien. “Hello.”
The healer inclined his head in greeting. “Are all the groups progressing like this one?” he asked.
“Some better. Some worse,” Ilythra said. “We’ve divided them in companies of thirty or so. They train all day.”
Arien’s eyes narrowed. “The art of the bow will take longer as they are unfamiliar with the weapon. They should pick up swordplay more quickly.”
“My men are already quite accomplished with a sword.” Ryliann’s chin came up. “They should have no problem with the new technique.”
Ilythra smiled. “We’ll see.” She turned to Arien. “You have news?”
“More teachers are coming to instruct in tracking, camouflage and stealth. They are even sending an instructor to teach the rudimentary skills of herb craft. They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon.”
Ryliann cleared his throat. “Ewen told me about his strategies. Do you think they have a chance of working?”
“They are our only chance. If you have a better idea, please feel free to share,” Ilythra snapped.
Arien’s eyebrow rose but he answered the prince. “I see the wisdom in them. Ilythra and Ewen will find a way to make them work. Of that I’m certain. We must be as prepared as possible. How do the humans respond to the instruction?”
Ryliann’s gaze drifted to Ilythra and then back to Arien. “I’ll not lie to you, many in my land have been taught the Sio—Dawn Children are a myth, but a myth to be feared. Recent rumors have caused us to distrust them. My men are no different. They’re loyal to me. Out of devotion to their country and their prince, they’ve set aside misgivings to open themselves up to instruction.” He glanced at Ilythra. “For some, taking instruction from a woman is also difficult. But they are learning.”
Arien turned to Ryliann. “My friend, I’ll ask you to excuse us for a moment. Please remind your men we meet again at sunrise.”
Ryliann nodded his assent and watched the two walk away. Their strides matched; every motion spoke of companionship. He fought a wave of loneliness, gave up and relented, letting it wash over him in bitter waves. He couldn’t understand the woman. At times, she seemed to dislike him, even resent him, then when he’d grown used to the idea, she’d bloom like a flower, revealing a tender side. She was frustrating, maddening and in the last few days, he’d made every excuse to be in her presence. He turned, taking in the dark trees against a deepening sky. It was a breathtaking sight. However, as he started to leave, it was the memory of a pair of flashing eyes he couldn’t dismiss from his mind.
* * *
“What’s wrong?” Arien’s voice was low, the words brushing her ears, but a wave of sorrow almost overwhelmed her.
She swallowed and blinked rapidly before she turned to him. “He has Maelys.”
Arien’s eyes widened slightly, but his voice remained calm. “That is the human healer who taught you herb craft?”
“And about Teann. Without her...” She shook her head, tears forming in her eyes. “Arien.”
He pulled her into his arms. “I am so sorry.”
She let the helplessness and anger that she’d kept at bay all day course through her body. “I’m going to kill him,” she whispered into Arien’s chest. “With my bare hands, I’m going to kill him.”
She couldn’t stop picturing Maelys, imagining her scared, in pain. She pulled away. “He wants me to act rashly. He wants me scared or angry and expects me to rush into something I’m not yet ready for.”
Arien brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “That would be my guess too. That and he wants to torture you. Make you pay.”
She gritted her teeth together. “I won’t play his game.” She looked up at Arien. “But I hate that Maelys is the one paying the price.”
“She is a healer, a true healer?”
“Yes.”
“Then she understands.” He took a breath. “I didn’t just come because I was worried about you.”
“No?”
“Ewen wants to speak with Ryliann. He says it’s urgent.”
* * *
Ryliann made his way across the worn wooden floors and drew back the heavy tapestries covering the window. The world was a washed in white. An early summer snowstorm had swept through the land not long after he�
��d arrived at Siann. He wondered how his men were faring in the cold weather. Some of them were unfamiliar with snow, having lived on the coast where the warm waters kept most cold weather at bay. He’d found he loved the cooler temperatures. Loved to watch the snow drift from the sky. Ilythra and Arien had accompanied him back to the keep, leaving the other Dawn Children to continue training his men.
He’d heard Ewen and Arien whisper about the source of the storm and then determine it natural. Ryliann knew the legendary stones were as real as the Dawn Children—he’d seen the blue stone hanging around Ilythra’s neck—but knowing that even the wind and weather would obey the command of an Elderborn’s whim didn’t sit well with him. No one should have that kind of power.
Of course, according to Ewen, it was not an Elderborn who had caused the blight or who was responsible for the destruction across Anatar, but Brishne, or Bredych. Whatever he chose to call himself. Guilt lay heavy on Ryliann’s breast. He’d left his father, his kingdom, to the mercy of a man who by all accounts had no mercy.
Three days before, the Riege had instructed him that they were to take a short expedition together. Ewen had been ambiguous about details, and Ryliann didn’t press but the snowstorm had delayed their departure and prevented his return to his men. He didn’t mind much. He knew they were safe, and here in the keep, he spent time in the library or in the art galleries. Sometimes Ilythra would join him and they’d sit together reading in silence or wandering the galleries. She appreciated art as much as he did.
She was a different person when she was relaxed. He smiled. She wasn’t relaxed often. He wondered if she ever wanted another kind of life. He used to daydream about being a simple farmer. Working with his hands all day and falling asleep exhausted at night. But he imagined there was a satisfaction in that that he’d never found listening to his father pronounce judgments and raise taxes. Did she always want to be a warrior? He’d asked her once. She’d claimed it was her destiny, and by the tension in her jaw he’d known better than to press.
When he’d asked about her childhood, she’d stared across the room as though lost in the past. She said she’d grown up on an island with her grandfather. Her tone had discouraged further questions.
A strong gust of wind hit the window. Ewen had sent a message that they were to leave later that day. He wasn’t an expert on weather casting but he’d bet there was another storm on the way. He wondered if the Dawn Children were impervious to freezing. A journey in a snowstorm was not the way Ryliann wished to die.
Ryliann let the curtain fall back into place, pausing to appreciate the delicate pattern of embroidery on the rich fabric. Raised a prince, he was used to finery and riches. However, nothing had prepared him for spending time at Siann.
It wasn’t just the collections of artwork, golden vessels or the care and attention to detail he found that impressed him every time his gaze roamed. There was a quality of permanence, of grandeur in the air. No wonder Ilythra loves it here. He shook his head. The woman intruded upon his thoughts frequently. She shunned him, put him down and ignored him, and he missed her whenever she wasn’t present. Ryliann laughed aloud at his own foolishness and in a conscious decision, turned his thoughts to his men.
He’d been shocked when he’d heard Ewen’s proposed strategy, but he was a practical man. There was too much at stake to take chances. And as Ilythra had pointed out, he didn’t have a better plan.
His laughter broke the silence. He was doing it again. “Like a boy at his first dance.”
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. He opened the heavy portal to find a young Dawn Child standing there. “Ewen will meet you at the stables.”
With a final look at the snow flurries outside, Ryliann shrugged and followed the boy down the hall. He didn’t think Ewen had brought him all this way to bury him beneath the snow. Then again, maybe that would be a more merciful fate than the one Brishne meant for him.
* * *
Ilythra strode through the halls. She paused at a painting. It was one Ryliann had marveled at. Until he’d explained why he loved the colors, she hadn’t given it much thought. But the brushstrokes and color choices told as much of a story as the couple sitting on a bench, staring out over the ocean. There was turbulence in it. A sense of impending doom. She shook her head and continued walking. The prince had been too much on her mind lately. He was infuriatingly arrogant one moment and accepting correction with grace and humility the next. She took a deep breath. Ewen had taken him on an errand. The Riege refused to share the details of the journey, which caused her to want to know them all the more.
She’d just missed their departure. A pain of regret touched her heart. She told herself it was because she hadn’t found out the details of their journey. Not because she hadn’t had a chance to say goodbye, and certainly not because she’d miss Ryliann. That was ridiculous. She threw her braid back over her shoulder to fall down her back as she began up the second set of stairs.
The truth of the matter was she had taken Melior on a run because she didn’t want to say goodbye. Ryliann helped keep her mind off what Bredych was doing. He reminded her what they were fighting for. Without him she might have drowned in her guilt. Did Bredych still have Maelys? She prayed the healer had found a quick death.
After nights of little to no sleep, she’d finally decided on a course of action. There were not many people who could be connected with her. It had almost shocked her to think how few friends she’d made in her travels. The traders, the Benai, Yann and his wife, the Heleini. Of those, the traders, Benai and Heleini could fend for themselves. She was most worried about Yann.
She turned down another corridor and made her way up the last set of stairs that led to the rookery. Ewen said he’d kept his contacts alive. If he had one near Ohanti or Shayner, she’d send a message to Yann, warning him to flee. If he is even still alive.
* * *
The bird circled high overhead, a dark shape against the pale blue sky. Ryliann breathed deeply, attempting to catch his breath. Ewen already had moved several paces ahead. Damn. Despite the cold, sweat trickled down his back. He gazed at the elder Dawn Child’s retreating figure. How does he keep up this speed? Yesterday, before he’d even reached the stables, the snow had abruptly ended and a weak sun highlighted thousands of ice crystals coating the land.
This morning, Ewen had pronounced the rest of the journey too difficult for the horses and left them near a small stream. Ryliann’s gaze rose to the rocky slope ahead. It seemed to him the next leg of the journey would be difficult for a goat.
Ryliann shook his head. He wouldn’t be embarrassed by an elderly Dawn Child. His cheeks warmed. He’d had similar thoughts about Ilythra, and she’d proven a more able warrior than he was. She was better in swordplay and archery, and with the spear. He was pretty sure he could beat her in hand-to-hand combat, but the thought of touching her, feeling her body pressed next to him, inspired thoughts far from war craft. “You are hopeless.” His chest tightened. He’d looked for her but had been told she’d taken her horse out right before they left. He hadn’t been able to say goodbye. He shook his head, quickening his pace to catch up with Ewen. Only a fine layer of snow remained in the shadows of the large trees and along the depressions in the land, but the air was cold.
“There’s a cave around this corner where we can camp.” Ewen’s words broke the afternoon’s silence as Ryliann neared.
The prince nodded, amazed; the Riege didn’t even sound winded.
Unerringly, Ewen led them through paths Ryliann would have overlooked to a dark cave. “We can rest here for a bit, eat something and then continue our journey.”
Irritation and shame brushed by Ryliann. He had a strong feeling Ewen wasn’t stopping because the Elderborn needed a rest. He brushed the emotions aside as his stomach growled. Their hurried breakfast had disappeared with the morning mists. He was hungry.
Ryliann retrieved a bundle of sticks, joining Ewen by the fire. “This cave is well supplied.”
“We have several such places.” Ewen slowly fed the sticks to the fire.
“You know this area well.”
Ewen smiled. “I’ve not always been an old diplomat. Once, I was young and free to roam these lands and many others.” His eyes took on a faraway expression. “Yes. I know this area well.”
“Are you old, Ewen?” asked Ryliann before his better sense closed his mouth.
Ewen laughed. “By Dawn Children standards, no, I’m not.” His green eyes sparkled. “By human standards, I’m ancient.”
“The legends say the Dawn Children don’t age, or at least they don’t die.”
Ewen picked up a stick next to the fire, seemed to consider it and then began peeling the bark. “That belief is only a legend and foolish. All things die, change. Without it, the cycle could not be complete. The Dawn Children die just like humans. Our life spans are not as yours, but we age and then we die. If we didn’t, this land couldn’t contain us.”
“Will you tell me how old you are?”
“Why it is important to you?” Ewen’s green eyes were penetrating, searching. “Oak and violet share the same glen. The violet measures its life by the moon, the oak by the stars. Yet they both know and serve their purpose.”
Do you know your purpose, Son of Edriel? Ryliann could have sworn the words were not spoken aloud, yet he heard them nonetheless.
“You’re curious where I am taking you and why, are you not?” Ewen asked.
Journey of the Wanderer Page 18
