Only it didn’t work. All it did was glow, and it had always glowed. Cindle had said the power had been lost, but she never said how. Did she even know?
“And you have to meet Kerro. Isn’t he sweet?” Saylee asked her father. “He lives at the temples, too.” She petted the bird resting on her shoulder.
Marryll shook his head, arms folded in front of him. “He isn’t sweet.”
“He only chased you because you teased him about his size, but look?” Saylee moved her arm, and the bird flapped his wings to hover in front of her, growing with each movement until he seemed the size of a flying horse again. “He’s a phoenix, and he’s my guardian animal. All the bearers have one.”
“They want her to study there, live in a human city all the time. We would have to leave Titainia and you . . .” Marryll’s green eyes burned with the same savagery as when the temple man had called him a fairy. “You aren’t going to let her, are you?”
Saylee took her father’s arm. “Please, can’t we? At least for a little while? It sounds so great, and the other bearers will help me. They know everything! Just like in your story, when the humans helped you come out of Falberain.”
Their father paused, noises from crowded streets filling in the space. He fidgeted with his hands. “The humans did help us, and the bearers were among them, but there were a few . . .” His eyes went far away.
Drynn followed his gaze. Across the street, a woman spoke to Saylee’s mother. The new woman had the height of a human, but her curls had a red hue that seemed too similar to the elves’ to be a mistake. A forest sprite flew at her side, and she kept touching an orange stone at her neck as she spoke.
A glowing stone.
There was another story there. Drynn could sense it.
But Saylee just pulled at her father’s arm again. “Dada?”
He shook his head. “Saylee, you just have to be careful. Your brother is right. We have always been . . . different from the humans. Some humans have resented this. Others took advantage of our ignorance. Some humans will not like that you have taken this stone from them, even if those you saw at the temples say they have accepted it.”
Saylee shrugged, too quickly for the words to have penetrated.
Drynn had a sudden desire to scream at the ignorant girl, no matter how revered her name was or how much she reminded him of his mother. She would get her way again, but this time it would end in disaster. “Bearer Mouikki said the phoenix will protect me,” Saylee said. “Can’t we go?”
Her father nodded. “We can go, but you are going to have to be very careful about which humans you trust.”
Drynn shook the vision from his head, merely the haunted echo from a vision he had when he held the stone before. Now the opal rested in a human’s hand. Not Picc’s hands, but maybe not much better.
Really, Drynn shouldn’t have given the opal to Kol in the first place, but Drynn had been desperate enough to give into the human’s warped sense of bartering, latching onto the first person to look him in the eye and use his name. But a new desperation entered him. One that wanted to risk whatever progress he had gained, snatch back the stone and run as far as he could.
Drynn stared through the maple tree branches at Kol, shaking at the prospect. The human was asleep, but Drynn pictured the entire camp waking and another display from last night coming to the surface, further irritating the welts that throbbed whenever he moved.
The humans in his visions might be promising help, even some new way to heal others as he and his brother had been looking for, but leaving the forest and joining the humans could only end badly. The humans were monsters, just like Marryll had said.
His eyes stung, another irritating reminder of how helpless he was, far worse than Saylee had ever been. Saylee might have been foolish for trusting the humans so rapidly, but she had the magic of the stone and a fire bird. He only had himself.
The sun peered through the leaves and voices stirred from around the nearby tents, and Drynn still hadn’t moved.
Kol squinted at him. “You’re still ’ere.”
Drynn shrugged. Pain swept through his shoulders, and he nearly lost his grip on the branch. “I said I would.” No reason for the human to know he wished he could have done otherwise.
“Well, yeah . . .”
Drynn followed Kol’s gaze toward the camp. Shouts filled the air, and several people gathered near the tree—led by Cain and his long stick. Drynn cleared a few more branches.
Kol scrambled to his feet. Cain backhanded him across the face, and Kol fell down again. The boy scooted back, hitting the trunk of Drynn’s tree, but the man kept coming.
“Wot did you think you’re doin’? Lettin’ the elf escape . . .” The man trailed off in a rage, raising his stick. The sharp crack echoed in Drynn’s head; his welts stung just hearing the sound.
He had to get it to stop. How could he get it to stop?
Drynn dropped from the tree. Everyone froze.
“The elf’s right ’ere. See—See—” Kol fumbled, holding his arm in front of his reddened jaw. “He’s magic. Can’t break his word. I got ’im to say he wouldn’t leave.”
Cain huffed like a panting dog. “Wot?”
“Tell ’im, Drynn.” Kol’s brown eyes were desperate.
Drynn frowned. What magic? He didn’t have any magic. Still, he nodded.
Anything to get the man to stop.
Cain’s hand snapped near Drynn’s arm like a viper’s fangs, but he was free of the cart and the metal rope. Drynn dodged and jumped into the tree. Other humans reached after him.
It wasn’t much of a chase. The humans moved so slowly, but Cain and his helpers were still red-faced and breathless when they paused.
Kol bit off laughter, no longer cowering. He smiled like it had all been a joke to begin with. “Keep chasin’ ’im, and he’s just gonna stay up there.”
That sounded like a perfectly reasonable plan. Drynn would stay in the tree for the rest of his life if he had to. Trees were great—the forest was great, and he should never have left it.
Cain held onto his knees. Then he straightened, his pant turning into a snarl. “And if we leave, he’ll come down? Do you really expect me to believe that?”
Kol shrugged. “Like I said, we got a deal. No chains, no sticks, and he’ll stay. Don’t have much of a choice anyway. You’ll get nothin’ if you scare ’im off, but if you leave us alone, let me take care of ’im, you won’t ’ave any more trouble. Honest.”
“You’re never honest.”
Kol put his hands behind his head as he rested against the tree, settling in to watch the show. “Suit yourself.”
Cain looked from Drynn to his men, still growling while he weighed his options.
Drynn took a step back on the branch. If their deal with the opal now included no sticks or ropes for either of them, Drynn was all for it, but he wasn’t coming down with that rabid man still circling for the chance to hit him again. He wouldn’t be locked in the dark again.
Cain rounded on Kol. “You better be tellin’ the truth. I’m expectin’ a huge payout, and if I don’t get it, you’ll be the one on the block. I don’t care wot The Lord says; you and your daggers are far from natural.” The group of humans left all together, including a heavily greased lady who smirked back at the pair of them.
Gone, just like that. Giving Kol the opal was paying off more than Drynn had thought.
The human was helping him.
Drynn dropped from the tree. He winced and pulled back his foot, still scabbed over. Otherwise, Drynn might have hugged his new benefactor, but Kol was staring after the humans, pale-faced, all hint of his previous humor gone. Something else was wrong.
“You lied to him,” Drynn said, hoping it would prompt Kol to explain his twisted words and whatever else he had missed in their previous negotiations.
While their new deal was more than he had initially hoped for, Kol hadn’t mentioned it earlier, and it certainly wasn’t magical. Why did he say
it was?
Kol immediately became overly relaxed. “Ah, Cain’s easy, and he’s been superstitious ’bout you from the first. It’s no trouble, really.”
“You lie to him . . . often?”
“Any time I can get away with it.” He smiled as if it was something to be applauded.
Now Drynn was even more confused, but Kol hadn’t hit him yet. Kol had gotten Cain to back away. Not much else recommended the thief, but going along with him still seemed like Drynn’s best option.
Kol started toward a tent as if it were a normal day in thousands, he and the other boys dissembling the poles and tarps all over the camp. Cain’s eyes tracked them, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, but Drynn stayed by Kol, and the man stayed away. The other thieves gave them an even larger berth, avoiding Drynn’s gaze as if he were the one sent to torment them.
Free. Or very nearly.
Drynn tugged on a tent pole to help bring it down, but Kol snatched it away.
“You’re still a prisoner, Drynn. Shouldn’t you be sulkin’ somewhere?”
“I’ve done that already.” Working outside was much better than sulking in some dark corner. Drynn had to stay outside and would help Kol with most anything he wanted to achieve that aim.
Kol squinted, seemingly to figure out what kind of creature Drynn was, even with his ears plain for all to see. Then he handed back the pole and showed Drynn where to put it.
When everything was stowed away, and the hard bread had been passed out for breakfast, Cain bellowed for Kol to do something about “its” ears. Kol pulled Drynn aside. He handed him a water bucket and a pile of patched clothes like the other boys wore, pointing to a couple of trees.
“Go get cleaned up. I’ll wait ’ere. Figure somethin’ out for your ears when you get back.”
Drynn nodded. He reached the trees, savoring the grass and open sky. And it came without someone staring or a rope to hobble his movements. He swallowed a few handfuls of water, then watched it turn a muddy red as he washed his face and hands. Drynn yanked at his tunic, stuck with dry blood. Fire lanced through his back as it tore free. He yelped, doubling over.
Kol crashed through the undergrowth with his dagger out. Drynn gritted his teeth, waiting for the human to laugh like the ones who had watched Cain hit him in the first place.
Kol cursed and put down the knife. “How’re you even standin’? Let me do it.”
Drynn doubted he could stop Kol if he tried. Kol attacked his back and foot with a wet rag and bound the open cuts with strips of Drynn’s old clothes. Drynn bit back screams, lightheaded with black spots crowding his vision. He let the human direct his movements, in a bit of a daze.
When his focus returned, he had human-style clothing on—a wide, scratchy shirt, a vest, and oversized pants that needed to be tied on him. Kol held up the knife, blade pointed at the ground. “If I cut your hair, will you freak out?”
Drynn sat hunched over, taking slow, shallow breaths. His back and leg throbbed worse than when the whole process started. “Freak out?”
“You know. Jump. Run. Try to attack me. Stuff like that.”
“Oh.” Drynn could have laughed. He couldn’t do any of those things, even if he wanted to. “I won’t ‘freak out.’” His hair was a matted mess anyway. Probably better off without it.
Red hair fell to the mud. Kol hacked off the ends until it neared the same length as all the human boys’ hair—out of his eyes and barely brushing his neck in the back.
Stepping away, Kol looked over his handiwork. “Actually, your face don’t look half bad now. They must’ve not hit you as hard as I thought. But your ears are crazy long without your hair. Try this. I wear it on stage all the time.”
Kol took a cloth from his pocket and wrapped it around Drynn’s ears. Then he put a cap over it. “Now you’re just a strange, redheaded kid instead of a freak.”
Drynn would be rubbing at his pinched ears all day, but he nodded.
“Kol, you comin’?” one of the other boys shouted. “You take longer than Kitti primpin’.”
Kol chuckled. “Yeah, but I look better for it. We’re comin’.” He filed in after the two carts pulled by oxen. Humans and a few horses walked around the sides.
Drynn stumbled after them.
Kol scowled at his limp. “You sure you don’t wanta ride in the cart again? Your foot looked pretty bad.” He slowed his pace, not seeming to care that everyone else gained a few more yards.
Drynn focused on the dirt road, putting one foot after another. If he kept his ankle raised, stepping with only the front of his foot, it didn’t hurt near as much. “I want to be outside.” A throbbing leg was nothing compared to an airless box. There weren’t many trees, but he savored the look of the grass-covered hills and dirt road. Even the brightly painted cart—his former prison—looked strangely cheerful from out here. Drynn stared it down like a conquered foe, a shadow forced to show itself in the light. He smiled. “Thank you for helping me.”
Kol looked away. “I haven’t done you much of a favor. Now you’re walkin’ to the Tower on a bloody stump instead of ridin’ there.”
Drynn’s eyes found Cain again. The man led the crew on a horse, but he still watched them. Getting out of the box had been a mindless need, but Kol was right—not much else had changed. Should he run? Could he outrun a horse if he tried? If not, they would put him back in the box. Chains and sticks and . . .
Drynn’s heart raced. He couldn’t go through that again.
Cain had said Drynn would learn his place. Be theirs. Maybe Drynn was now, too afraid to even try. And when Cain had found him gone, the stick had found another target. “If I escaped, I wouldn’t get the opal back. And if you gave it to me and I left, he would hurt you. Same as me.”
Kol’s silence confirmed the words. Resignation instantly hardened and aged his face.
That man beat everyone.
“Why does anyone stay here?” Shouldn’t all the beaten boys want to run away with him?
Kol shrugged. “Where else would we go? Sure, Cain has a temper, but he’s lord ’ere. All lords act like that.”
“Not all of them.” Drynn had never been beaten by any of them before.
“Oh, and how many ’ave you met?”
“Several. All of Father’s council and all the other kings. I saw the dorran matriarch, once.” So it was only a month or two ago, depending on how long he had been in the box, but it still counted.
Wheels creaked, and stray voices filled the sudden silence. Kol gaped, letting the caravan gain a few feet before he started walking again. “Other kings? Your dad’s a king?”
“High King, actually.” Drynn scratched at his covered ears. “Does it matter?”
“’Course it matters!” Kol lashed his finger at Drynn. “A king’s the ultimate authority. If you’re the son of one, you shouldn’t be walkin’ around alone.”
Drynn stopped fidgeting. “I wasn’t alone.”
“That was only two people. A prince should ’ave a full escort, a few dozen at least.”
“Whatever for?” The mystery pulled Drynn in, a welcome distraction from all the humans hitting each other. What was the human prince doing that required so much help?
Kol frowned, and his hand dropped. It seemed he had never considered the question before. “Lots of reasons. Protection for one, especially outside of his territory. Then there are the servants and ’eralds, guards that enforce commands and control the crowd and . . .”
The human prince must wiggle around as blind as a washed-up earthworm. Could he even get out of bed alone? “Tayvin and I would never cart so many people around.”
“Who’s Tayvin?”
Drynn hesitated. It was dangerous not to answer humans—Picc had proven that—but it might not even matter. Neither of them was likely to see Tayvin anytime soon. “My elder brother.”
“So you ain’t the Crown Prince?”
“What’s a crown?”
“It’s a sorta hat that . . .” He s
hook his head. “Never mind. I mean you ain’t gonna take over after your dad.”
“No,” Drynn said, still not seeing why it mattered any more than the mysterious hat.
Kol smiled. “Oh, I got it now.”
“What?”
“Why you’re ’ere. It’s too bad.”
“What’s too bad?” Irritation seeped into Drynn’s tone. The endless mysteries were losing their appeal again. It seemed everyone knew something he didn’t and were having a private laugh over his struggle.
“It ’appens all the time ’round ’ere, too,” Kol said. “Your bro, he didn’t want you tryin’ to take his place so he sent you away hopin’ you wouldn’t come back. He’s a little early. They usually wait ’til the king dies. Everyone knows that’s all Prince Dathan is waitin’ for before he gets rid of Prince Collin’s kids. They’re just his cousins.”
A stream of Elven slipped out before Drynn switched back to Human. “What? That is— Tayvin would never—I would never—I don’t want to be king!”
“Who wouldn’t?” Kol’s smile stretched wider. “Wotever you say goes, and you get all the gold, servants, and girls you want. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t snatch it if you could get your brother out of the way.”
Drynn wouldn’t, he couldn’t, but the words hit harder than he cared to admit.
Their journey here had been a bit impulsive. Tayvin was always impulsive, but Drynn had spent night after night locked in a cart wondering why his brother never came after him. And Tayvin had gotten touchy about Drynn carrying the opal, like he hated him for having it, hated him for bringing Cindle along. Cindle always seemed to think Tayvin planned this trip to feed his own ego. A sudden terrible image of Tayvin on the inn roof, not asleep, but watching him fall, glad to be finally rid of him, flashed before his eyes.
“At least he let’cha take some bodyguards with you,” Kol said as if to comfort him, kicking at rocks with his bare toes as he walked. “Most wouldn’t do that.”
The Queen's Opal: A Stone Bearers Novel (Book One) Page 17
