“I’m sorry,” Joran said.
“Let’s move south and search for wagon tracks,” I said, as we moved along the path.
He nodded, and we fell into silence. The Djarn path was easy enough for us navigate as we made our way through the forest. The horses didn’t struggle, and it was hard-packed enough that we didn’t get bogged down as we had out on the plain. The canopy overhead blocked most of the rain, though there was a faint drizzle that made its way down, and droplets of water occasionally struck us as they bounced off the trees. It was far better than before. The heavy rumbling wasn’t nearly as pronounced as it had been. Even the lightning diminished, the occasional flash blending through the leaves overhead. I studied the ground, looking for any sign of wagons or anything that would have damaged the branches that would show me that the Vard had moved through here. There was no sign of anything.
If they weren’t moving this way, then how were we going to catch up to them? The path branched off, and I paused for a moment , looking in either direction. One way led deeper into the forest.
“Do you think they could’ve gone that way?” Joran asked.
I sighed. “I don’t really know. It’s possible, but it would mean they were risking going deeper into the forest. Why do that?”
“The Vard supposedly used to live all throughout these lands,” Joran said. “At least, my father said that. It’s possible they know ways of navigating through the forest that we never learned.”
“Or this isn’t the Vard at all. What if this is the Djarn?”
“Why would the Djarn have attacked one of our caravans?” Joran asked. “Doing so would only risk the king pushing them out of their lands. He’s left them alone so far.”
It didn’t make any sense. He was right.
We veered off, taking the path deeper into the forest. Neither of us said anything, falling into a companionable silence. As we walked, I noticed a marking along the path where a wagon wheel had dug into the ground.
I pointed to it, and Joran nodded.
A little further in, and we came to another marking. More than ever, I felt confident that we were heading in the right direction, though I still didn’t know why the Vard would carry them into the forest like this. It wasn’t long before I noticed a glowing light in the distance. As we approached, the light seemed to flicker.
Firelight.
Why would there be a fire in the heart of the forest?
“We need to be careful,” Joran whispered.
“I think you’re right.” I climbed down from Adela’s saddle and guided her over to a tree, where I tied her off.
Joran shot me a look. “What are you doing?”
“I’m going to see what I can find out.”
“On foot? Are you mad?”
“If something happened to her—”
“I know what you’re getting at, I’m just saying that you need to be ready for the possibility that you might need to run.”
“Wait here by the horses,” I said.
Joran groaned, climbing down from Wind’s saddle, and he tied him off next to Adela. “I’m not letting you go by yourself,” he said.
“You don’t have to do this. You can wait here.”
“Right. Wait for you to go and get lost. For something to happen to you. For gods knows what to take place.” He shook his head. “We are doing this together.”
I smiled over at him. “What do you think we’ll find?”
“If we’re lucky, we’ll find the Djarn.”
“And if we’re unlucky?”
“If we’re unlucky, we’re going to find out what happened to the caravan.”
We moved quietly along the path and wound through the trees. I watched the fire in the distance, knowing we weren’t all that far from it. The path cut to the left, and I slowed. As I did, I tried to see what might be in the distance. I heard voices.
I motioned to the trees, as Joran and I crouched down. The sound of the forest shifted almost immediately. It was almost as if the voices in front of us were swallowed by the forest, leaving us with a strange emptiness all around. It was disconcerting, but it allowed us to move quietly.
“I hope we don’t get lost here,” Joran muttered.
“We can keep the path in view,” I said.
“I’d like us to do more than just that,” he said.
“Fine. Mark the trees,” I said.
“Like you did before? I saw how you were squinting. Either you didn’t mark them very well, or—”
“The markings were already starting to fade,” I said.
“That’s my concern,” Joran said. “We’ve long known that things aren’t the same in here. Including marking trees. Why do you think so many people get lost? If the Djarn do have magic, we need to be careful they don’t trap us in here.”
That was why I had carved deeper this time, thinking that if nothing else, I could modify them so that I could find my way through, but now I had to wonder if that was even going to be effective.
We crept forward, moving along the trees. I stared into the darkness, searching for the fire. The flames crackled in the distance, though I didn’t notice anything other than that.
We gradually reached the outskirts of what appeared to be a small clearing. I motioned for Joran, trying to be as quiet as I could. We said nothing as we crawled forward, reaching the edge of the clearing. When we did, I didn’t see anything other than the crackling flames.
Joran leaned close to me, lowering his voice as he whispered, “Can you make anything out?”
I shook my head. “Not at all,” I said. “It’s almost like they abandoned it.”
Staring into the clearing, my eyes began to adjust to the light when I finally saw something. The fire was at the heart of the clearing, but there was something else behind that. I motioned for him to follow me, and Joran and I moved forward, doing so slowly, carefully. I caught sight of wagons lining the path.
These were different than the wagons we’d seen in the city. Those had been large transport wagons that were brightly painted in the colors of the king. These were narrow, barely wide enough to carry more than a few people.
I grabbed for Joran’s arm, pulling him back.
We stepped away, and when we did, I leaned toward him, lowering my voice as I whispered, “Look at the wagons. They seem like they were designed for the forest.” I stared through the trees, trying to catch sight of the wagons again, wondering where the people were. There was no sign of them. “I didn’t think it was the Djarn before, but now I don’t know. What if it is them?”
“The Djarn haven’t attacked us before.”
We needed to examine the wagons. What if this was an ambush? Given how difficult it was to track the Djarn, they could be right in front of us, completely invisible.
Getting to the wagons meant moving away from the cover of the trees and risk exposing ourselves. I wasn’t going to get the answers that we needed otherwise.
We stepped out , and I hurried toward the closest wagon. It was made of rough wood. The back end of it wasn’t very large. There was something strange about it, almost as if it had been scratched.
I pointed to it, and Joran nodded, neither of us wanting to speak.
Running a hand along the wagon, I searched for a way to open the back of it, but there didn’t seem to be anything. Joran circled around to the front.
We needed to be quick.
As far as I could tell, there were five wagons arranged in a row. There was no sign of people. It was almost as if the campsite had been abandoned. Moving to the next one in line, I found the same scratch marks along it as I had on the last one.
Something about them was strange. They were deeply scored, as if some creature had pawed at it. I crouched down, looking at the ground, and I saw a pawprint. It was enormous.
“I’ve seen this before,” I told Joran as he leaned over my shoulder. “It was when I got caught out in the storm.”
I traced my finger around the pawprint, trying
to see if there was anything about it that I might recognize, but it was strange to me.
Getting back to my feet, I moved on to the next wagon. Much like the other two, there were scratches along the length of it.
Surprisingly, heat radiated from it.
It was different than the others. Whereas the other two had been rough wood, almost weathered and looking like it had been reclaimed from some old building, this one was recently built. The wood appeared thicker than the others, and metal was worked within it. Almost as if it formed a cage.
Somewhere in the distance, a deep rumble echoed through the trees.
Joran straightened, glancing over to me. “Whatever we’re going to do, we need to do it quickly,” he said.
“We need to open them. We can start with the back one.”
“I didn’t see any way to open them,” Joran said.
“We have to pry it open, then.”
I headed to the rear wagon and began to circle around, looking for some way to open it. The wagons were linked together, and I suspected that when we reached the front of the caravan, there would be a train of horses, something that wouldn’t be feasible with normal-sized wagons, but with smaller ones like this, barely coming up to my shoulder as I stood on the ground, a team of horses would have little difficulty pulling it.
I saw no lock. No door. No windows. Nothing.
I scrambled up the side and found a hatch.
A deep roar erupted from deep in the forest again. It was followed by an explosion.
Joran hissed up at me. “Hurry up.”
I reached for my belt knife and pried into the hatch. I worked it, wiggling it in place, and finally managed to pop the hatch open. It was narrow, barely more than two feet by two feet wide. Once the hatch was open, I poked my head down, looking into the darkness.
“Alison?” I whispered.
I didn’t really expect that Alison would be in there. I didn’t know what was going to be in there, only that I needed to see.
The steady roar out in the distance caught my attention again. I stared through the trees. Whatever was out there must have been the reason that the people here had disappeared.
When the rumbling faded, I glanced back to the hatch, and my heart stopped.
A head poked out.
12
The face that looked up at me was an older woman with dark hair, and an expression of irritation on her face. She watched me for a moment before pushing past as she climbed out onto the top of the wagon.
“Are you with them?” she snapped.
I shook my head. “I’m not with anyone. Who are you?”
She glared at me. “I’m with the Academy, fool.” She crawled out of the wagon and looked into the distance along the line of wagons. “We were ambushed.”
When the steady rumbling came again, the woman jerked her head around, looking into the forest. I felt a strange pressure building around me, as if a storm was moving in, the electricity of the lightning shooting toward me, though I didn’t think that was what this was.
“With the Academy?” I whispered. I tried to get a good look at her, but I couldn’t be certain she was who she claimed. There had been many people with the Academy at the testing.
The woman turned her attention back to me, eyes darting all around. They looked past me. The firelight was moving. There came a shout, as she shoved me forward and off the wagon. I stumbled, rolling away, trying to get to my feet, but the woman jumped down and dragged me toward the trees. Joran was there, looking over at her, and I couldn’t tell why, but he seemed troubled.
“My sister was chosen. She should be here,” I said.
“Is she?” The woman regarded me for a long moment. “If she was captured, there isn’t much that can be done.”
The firelight began to bob in the distance.
We didn’t have much time.
“You better run, boy, before they return,” the woman snapped at us.
Joran looked up at me, concern written in his eyes, before glancing over to the woman.
“Who will return?” I asked, unmindful of the firelight that danced behind me. I could feel the urgency with which I needed to act, knowing that I couldn’t wait here much longer, that whoever had led these wagons into the forest would be here soon. I needed to know, though. I needed to know whether this was the Djarn or the Vard.
The woman hurried toward the path.
I looked through the trees. The firelight was coming closer. Whoever was coming in our direction was going to reach us, and then…
Then I would lose the opportunity to figure out who this woman was and what she might know. More than that, I might miss out on the opportunity to find my sister. If I waited here, I still might not find her. I might end up captured as well.
I scrambled forward, reaching the next wagon, and pulled my knife out of the sheath.
“What are you doing?” Joran hissed.
“I need to see if Alison is here,” I said.
“You don’t have time.”
I jammed my knife into the hatch. It was structured the same as the other one , and I began to wiggle my knife back and forth, trying to pry the hatch off. I could hear the voices getting louder.
I needed to disappear, so that whoever was coming wouldn’t see me. I almost had it. Finally, I pried the hatch free. I poked my head down, looking inside, but couldn’t see anything in the darkness.
I set the hatch loosely back on top.
The light glowing in the distance was getting closer.
I turned toward it, to see if there was any sign of who it might be, whether it was the Vard or Djarn, but I couldn’t tell.
I scrambled down the side of the wagon, and I hesitated there for a moment.
Joran grabbed my arm, as he dragged me into the trees. As soon as we were off the path the forest seemed to swallow everything, making it so that I couldn’t hear anything else.
I peered through the trees. There was movement near the wagon, but not from whoever was coming. It came from the wagon I had jumped off of.
The hatch lifted.
I stared for a moment, trying to see who it was, but couldn’t tell.
I needed to get just a little bit closer. If it was Alison, then I needed to help her. As I stepped through the trees, Joran grabbed me, trying to keep me from moving any farther forward.
A head poked out of the top of the hatch. Long, black hair stretched down the person’s back, and milky-white skin was visible, just enough that I could tell that it wasn’t Alison. She turned toward us, and there was something in her eyes that seemed to recognize me. Had she seen me?
I glanced over to Joran. “We need to go help her.”
“Help? What do you think that you’re going to do. She—”
A loud growl erupted.
It was closer than it had been before. We had been hearing that growling for a little while, but this time the sound was different. More menacing.
The light that was moving toward us stopped. I started toward the clearing again, when the person jumped off the wagon and ran into the trees.
She was on the opposite side of the path. We backed into the trees, disappearing into the shadows of the forest. I could hear the voices, if only a little bit.
“I saw something moving,” someone said from the Djarn path.
The person talking had a deep voice, and he sounded angry.
“Check the wagons,” another voice said.
“You don’t think that somebody escaped,” the first person said.
“They shouldn’t have been able to, but with that damn mesahn out in the forest, anything is possible.”
I turned to Joran, mouthing the word, mesahn. I didn’t know what that was, but if it was the creature that I’d heard growling—and the same one that made the massive pawprint—then I didn’t want to encounter it either.
At least it explained why the wagons had been unguarded. They had been forced away from the wagons because there were monsters in the forest.
“We chased it away,” the other voice said.
“For now, but if he manages to command it, the damn thing is going to rip through these wagons. We’ve only managed to protect the one.”
“That’s the only one that needs to be protected.”
“It’s not. Not if these others have the potential that we believe.”
The other growled. “I’ll do what I can.”
I glanced over to Joran, frowning. “What do you think is going on?” I whispered to him.
“I don’t know, and I don’t think that we should be here. Now more than ever, I think that we need to go back to the marshal and tell him what we’ve seen. He can get word to the king and they can—”
“And Alison would end up being dragged away from here. Is that what you want?”
“You know I don’t , but I also know that whatever is happening here is beyond the two of us. We need to get out of here.”
I stared through the trees. As far as I could tell, they didn’t know that we were here, and even if they did, they would have to wander into the dark in order to find us. I shook my head. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until we know what’s going on.”
Joran groaned softly. “What about that Academy woman you freed? She staggered down the path. Where do you think she went?”
I suspected she’d been injured. She wouldn’t have been able to go very far.
And if she was from the Academy, she might be able to help.
“We could backtrack, see if we can come across her. Then we can see if she knows anything.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“She has to know something,” I said.
Joran looked at me as if he wanted to argue, his jaw clenching in frustration, obviously irritated with me for wanting to do this. We followed along the Djarn path, staying within the shadow of the trees. I kept an eye out, searching for the men that we had heard, but didn’t see anything. Joran looked over to me. “Tell me you hear that.”
“I do,” I said.
“What do you think it is?”
“Probably the mesahn, whatever that is.”
The Caged Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 1) Page 13
