Mariah let cold air fill her lungs as she listened. Nothing. She focused hard, and her magic warmed her ears. The night, which had been so silent only a moment before, became full of sound. With her free hand, she slipped a hand under her hood and scarf and touched the side of her head. Gone were her fleshy ears. They had been replaced by a small circle of feathers, her hawk ears nestled within. She heard an animal somewhere near her feet—maybe even below the ground—scurrying through the dirt, the rush of air as a small bird passed overhead, and finally, the slow, soft crunch of boots as Lieutenant Hanas Vasdaf approached, leading his horse behind him.
Yellow lantern light crept around the edges of the boulders, and Mariah slowly drew her sword, holding it steady at her side. A cloud of mist rose from her mouth as she exhaled, and she quickly clamped it shut, hoping her foe wouldn’t spot it.
“Ah, look at this, Shadow,” came a low, husky whisper. Their pursuer had spotted their tracks, bear and human, that Mariah and Shira had left when they entered the cave nestled among the boulders. Mariah had been careful to leave none when she exited the shelter. “Looks as if our friends have found a cozy little nest to sleep in.” There was no venom in the words, and although she listened for it, she didn’t hear the characteristic hiss of a sword coming out of its sheath. Wasn’t he coming to kill them? Maybe his plan was to capture them and hand them over to the king’s Trappers. “I don’t think you’re gonna fit, girl.”
He was talking to his horse, Mariah realized when she heard the soft nicker. What in the world? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.
“I’ll check it out and be right back. You’ll have your oats in no time. Promise.”
However, she decided quickly that he was probably just trying to keep himself company. She had talked to herself many times when she was alone at Firebend, after all, and she supposed talking to a horse was about the same. She shook her head. She wasn’t here to make friends with the lieutenant. She was there to stop him, and she hoped fervently that the plan she and Shira had concocted was going to work. But if she were the one sneaking up on someone, she would not have stopped to talk to her horse.
There was a brief rustle, and then Mariah heard the scrape of gravel as the soldier approached the narrow opening in the boulders that hid the entrance to the cave she had discovered earlier. He would have to squeeze between two of the boulders to enter, and as he did so, Mariah moved toward the southern edge of the outcropping, peering around to see Vasdaf’s back as he ducked down and entered the cave, holding a lantern before him.
Before following, she glanced around for the horse. It was dark, and its hulking form, tied to a nearby tree, was nearly lost in the blackness. It stared at her but made no sound except for the huff and blow of its breathing.
Mariah turned and followed her target as he started into the cavern and down the gentle slope that disappeared below a slab of rock and into the earth below. Placing her feet carefully so as not to dislodge the rocks that littered the floor and alert her prey, Mariah followed. As she and Shira had discovered, the tunnel opened into a bigger underground cave about a dozen yards in. There was a musty aroma with a lacing patchwork of animal smells over it. But it was empty and had been the perfect place to set the trap.
As Vasdaf stepped into the opening, his lantern held before him, a low rumbling filled the cave. It was Shira, snoring again, like she had in the tree earlier that day, only this time Mariah knew that she was completely awake and was using the sound to cover Mariah’s pursuit. The lieutenant’s footsteps slowed. Would he change his mind? Turn around and spot her? He stopped completely, and Mariah quit breathing again. But he didn’t turn around. He was listening. After a moment, he began to move forward once more. As he did, Mariah raised her sword, and Shira’s fuzzy face came into view in the lantern light. She was less than two feet away, lips peeled back from her massive canines and a low, menacing growl erupting from her throat.
Vasdaf stumbled backward in surprise, right into Mariah’s sword. The sharp point pressed into the back of his neck, drawing blood.
“Raise your hands over your head,” Mariah gritted, “or my friend there will have you for dinner.”
* * *
It took several minutes for Shira to immobilize Hanas Vasdaf. She was surprisingly good with knots.
“I been tyin’ and untyin’ boats since I was big enough to hold the rope,” she reminded Mariah.
The soldier was cooperative: he made no outward attempts to escape them, although he pleaded with them for a minute or two before Shira threatened to gag him if he wasn’t quiet. His compliance worried Mariah. Did he have some means of escape already in mind? Something so easy they had completely overlooked it? Did he have company? Someone Mariah had missed in scouting? But unless his companion was Ceo San and had never ventured close to him, she would have seen them.
At least Shira was thorough in securing him. By the time she was done, Vasdaf’s arms were tied behind his back and attached to another loop of rope around his waist. His knees were pulled up and tied tightly, as were his ankles.
Mariah removed all of his weapons and took them out of the cave, far out of reach. Vasdaf’s horse, Shadow, nickered at her as she piled the sword and knives under a nearby tree. When Mariah didn’t respond, the horse repeated her noise with more vigor. The beast was obviously used to being talked to.
“He’s fine,” Mariah told her. “We just need him to answer some questions.” That seemed to satisfy the animal, and she went back to digging at the ground with her nose and one hoof, maybe searching for something edible under the snow. Mariah was glad that she didn’t have to tell the horse what might happen after Vasdaf answered their questions, if he did at all. Now who’s the one being ridiculous?
When she returned to the cavern, the lieutenant’s hazel eyes followed her closely, and she pulled her own sword back out, holding it slightly up. She gave him a wide berth, but he didn’t move and kept his lips pursed she passed. Shira was standing several feet away, staring hard at him.
Mariah nodded at her, and she looked back to Vasdaf.
“Where are the others?” Shira paused only a moment before she spoke again. “Well? You wanna stay here tied up in the cold while you starve to death? Fine. But you should know, I was the best knotter in my village. You’re not gettin’ out of those ropes until I say so.”
Turning slightly away, Mariah knelt down and rearranged the kindling they had placed earlier. It was laid in a little hollow in the stone floor beneath a slivered gap in the ceiling that reached all the way up to its rocky peak. That little hollow had already been filled with dried branches on top of blackened dirt and stones. They were not the first to use the shelter, and Mariah worried someone might be returning sooner rather than later, but they had to deal with the lieutenant first. When the fire began to crackle and dance, tickling her nose with its smoke, Mariah turned to look back at Shira and Vasdaf.
Her friend had turned her back on the man and was cleaning under her fingernails with her knife, something Mariah had seen her do many times. It hadn’t looked so menacing since before they had truly become friends. But Vasdaf wasn’t looking at Shira. He was staring straight at Mariah.
“Only her,” he said, his voice rough.
Shira turned around slowly, and Mariah could sense her agitation. A growl filled her voice. “What?”
He didn’t quite flinch, but he leaned slightly away from Shira, nodding toward Mariah. “Only her. I’ll speak only to her.”
Mariah’s eyes met Shira’s. What was he up to? Shira looked as clueless as she felt but nodded.
“Just answer my friend’s question. Where are they? The other soldiers? Are you being followed?” His stare was starting to unsettle her. She didn’t sense any violence or malice in it, but it was unflinching in its intensity.
“If I answer you,” he began. “If I answer, will you do something for me?”
She hesitated. “I’ll consider it, but first you have to answer my question.”
“Two are dead. The other was nearly dead, laid up at the inn and waiting for the healer when I left.”
“What about the fourth?” Mariah asked. There had been five of them. “The woman with the bow?”
It was his turn to hesitate.
She pushed. “She wasn’t injured, at least not seriously. Where is she now?” Mariah’s heart sped up. Had she missed her? Was the woman close by, maybe even right outside the cave? Her gaze flickered up at the tunnel that led outside before moving back to Vasdaf. She took a deep breath, inhaling and trying to sample the air for new scents, especially human ones. She couldn’t make any out, but she knew that Shira’s sense of smell was much better than hers, so she nodded at her friend before continuing. “There’s nothing we can do for you if you don’t answer.”
After one final glance at Mariah, Shira passed her, the warm and cool breeze of her friend’s magic once again washing through the cave as she transformed. For the first time, Mariah started to sense something distinct about Shira’s magic, perhaps because of the time that they had spent together. It felt different from her own. Would it be different from Xae’s? From Gwyn’s? Did Vasdaf feel it too?
His expression didn’t change, and his voice was flat when he finally spoke again. “Her name is Fass Atha. She gave me orders to track you. Before I could even gather the necessary supplies and get my horse, she had ridden out of town. She’s gone straight to Glenley, to report to the king.”
“Orders? I thought you were a lieutenant.”
“I am, but she is a captain, the village constable, and that was her unit you took out. As soon as Mayor Hammen got wind of your presence and escape, he sent her to the capital. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t suffer his predecessor’s fate, despite his quick action in reporting it.”
As Shira’s great brown form disappeared into the tunnel entrance, Mariah’s mind went back to Vasdaf’s earlier words, and her mouth dropped open. “Glenley? Why? Do you report to the king every time you see a …”? She didn’t finish. Saying the words Ceo San right in front of one of Rothgar’s men, even though he was bound at the moment, seemed foolhardy.
“Of course not, but you’re not just any drudge”—Mariah shot him a glare—“I mean, Ceo San,” he stumbled. “Sorry. We’ve had orders to look for you, your kind, in Eaglespire for years.” Her or her kind? There was a big difference there. “I think everyone was shocked to find a Ceo San in the village after all this time. It’s been years. Most of … your kin steer clear of there. I imagine they know the stories. It’s no secret that his majesty keeps a special eye on the place. He’s been waiting for you to come back, to slip up, so he could catch you.” He met her gaze, unflinching, almost admonishing.
When they had journeyed together the first time, Shira had told Mariah that she was unwittingly famous, that there were stories about her escape from Eaglespire still floating around. But why? With all the Ceo San that had been captured, surely others like her had tried to escape the king’s clutches. Surely some had succeeded. Why was her story so remarkable?
Mariah looked over her shoulder. She heard shuffling at the mouth of the cave, but when the noise subsided, she guessed that Shira was just investigating their surroundings. She found herself hoping that her friend hadn’t frightened Shadow.
“I answered your question,” Vasdaf said.
She turned back to him. “What?”
“Will you—”
She had forgotten the boon he had asked. “What do you want? I’m only asking”—she held her sword up—“I’m not promising anything.”
“Would you lower your scarf?”
She reached immediately under her hood to the brown muslin wrapped around her head, making sure it was still secure. “What?” She stopped herself—only barely—from cocking her head to the side as she often did in hawk form.
“Take off your headscarf.”
“Why?”
“Please.”
Vasdaf already knew who she was, that she was the blacksmith’s daughter from Eaglespire. She was sure that the Rookery’s innkeeper had filled him in on the rest. She was Mariah Griven, and apparently, she specifically had been wanted in Varidian since she had flown away nearly a decade ago. She still wasn’t sure why the king wanted her in particular. He had almost had her when she had been captured in the Ceo San slave camp, but thanks to the help and encouragement of Old Cat Eyes, she had escaped before the king had ever laid eyes on her.
Did it matter what this soldier saw? They wouldn’t be able to leave him alive, knowing who and what they were, not if they didn’t want to be pursued all over the kingdom. Not if they wanted to have any chance of succeeding in their mission. She swallowed hard. It wasn’t something she was looking forward to. She almost wished the wolves were with her. With the insignia he wore, the embossed black dragon barely visible on the upper left side of his leather breastplate, they’d take care of him without her even asking. But she really didn’t wish that fate on anyone, not even one of Rothgar’s men.
He was still watching her, waiting. Sighing, Mariah nodded. She didn’t see the harm.
Remaining a safe distance away from him, she lowered herself into a cross-legged position on the floor. She laid her short sword carefully onto the stone next to her and pulled back the hood of her cloak. Her hands trembled as she began to unwrap her scarf, revealing the short, spiky silver hair beneath.
He stared at her for a long moment before he breathed her name. “Mariah. I dared not hope it was really you.” He spoke as if they were old friends … or more, and she fought the urge to squirm. Instead, she ran a hand through her hair, focused on how good it felt to have the wretched wrap gone, if only for a little while.
“Do you know me?” she asked. The desire to move away, to get up and run out of the cave, to fly away as far as she could, became stronger. She made herself remain calm. “Sir. I asked you a question.”
“Han, please. Just Han.”
“Do you know me?” she repeated, enunciating each word.
He nodded and then reconsidered, shaking his head. “Well, not really. But … you know, I didn’t realize who you were until I heard Ollen telling the others that he recognized you. I didn’t expect you to ever come back.”
“What do you mean?” Her patience was quickly waning. She picked up her sword again and held it in her lap with the point toward him. “You speak as if we were childhood friends, which I know for certain we were not.”
Vasdaf took a breath. Had he shuddered? He took another, this one steadier, before he spoke again. “I told you that my mother lives in Eaglespire.”
She nodded impatiently. Back at the Rookery, before they had been discovered, he had mentioned it while offering to escort them. Had he already known who they were then, or was his presence there just coincidence?
“I grew up in the village,” he continued. “I knew your parents, Magnus and Ashanya, a little anyway.” Mariah’s fingers tightened on her weapon, and her stomach threatened to heave at the mention of her parents’ names. “I bought knives from them for my mother, for her kitchen. See, I wanted to be a blacksmith. I envied your father, the fact that he got to make weapons for the king himself. I was just a scrawny git then, and my mother told me I had no chance of ever doing that kind of work.” He chuckled, glancing down at his massive bulk. He was probably nearly as big as her father had been. “I was just a boy then, but I spotted you through the door to the smithy. Your hair …” His shoulder twitched as if he wanted to reach out to her. And his voice. There was awe in it. “It shined … brighter than even the knives, and you were so …” He stopped, as if he was reconsidering what he had been about to say.
Mariah shifted, not meeting his gaze, but gestured with the sword for him to go on.
“Guess I developed a bit of an infatuat
ion, with you being an older girl and all.” She did look at him then. It was impossible to tell if he was flushed in the flickering light in the cave, but he was no longer looking right at her. “I used to sneak out in the morning, follow you down to the creek, and watch you haul the water back to your father’s workshop.”
Her eyes flew up to him in alarm. “I never …” She had never known she was being followed. She hadn’t always been careful on those jaunts down to the creek. It had been the only time she’d had any freedom, in the hour just after dawn, the only time when she could be alone, be herself, in the quiet woods, woods that felt like her own tiny sanctuary. She had relished it.
“I was a good tracker,” he muttered, “even then.” His gaze finally left her, and he looked down at his knees. “It wasn’t until later that I realized that I hadn’t acted much like a gentleman, spying on you like that. I’m sorry.”
Mariah’s mind was still caught in the past as the implications knifed through her. On those morning hikes, at times, after a cursory look around, she had taken off her cloak, shed her dress so she was down to her shift, let her wings stretch, and been free for just a few moments. They would have been impossible to miss for anyone who was watching her. They were half again as long as her arms in the form she had been stuck in then.
The memories flooded her. There she was, closing her eyes and standing on the peak of the boulder that jutted out over the water, reveling in the sensation of the breeze ruffling her feathers. She might’ve even lifted off a time or two. Had he been there then? Had he seen her, reported her? The word tumbled out. “Were you the one—”
“No, it wasn’t me,” he said hurriedly, as if he had been waiting for the question. “I didn’t report you. I promise.”
Mariah stared at him for a long moment, pulling her mind forcefully out of the past as much as she could, and found that she believed him. In her letter, Ashanya had said it was the baker who had reported her. How the baker had found out, she still didn’t know, but her mother had always complained about the woman’s nosiness. Mariah swallowed, pushing those thoughts aside for the time being. She wasn’t sure what to do next. She ran a hand through her hair again, settling herself, before she spoke.
Revelation of the Dragon Page 11
