Empire Awakening (Maledorian Chronicles Book 2) Page 5

  “The most important thing is for you to get your health back.” She felt the tears welling up. “I’m sure I’ll see you again. I’ll send word when I can.” Though, for some strange reason, she knew this was a final goodbye. She squeezed his hands and kissed his cheeks, her eyes soaking up the sight of him. He had been kind to her, and she wished him well.

  “Thank you, Master Henrik. Thank you for everything. Give your brother my regards.” She released his hands and waved goodbye, leaving the room but taking the sadness with her.

  *

  As she rode the next morning and left Wilhem far behind, she remembered a dark, hazy dream from the night before. She had been singing. Her voice echoed across the massive, circular room she’d once visited in the ancient ruins of Maren Downs. Tears were streaming down her cheeks, but instead of singing alone, she was singing to Relek, her father’s young apprentice, the man she hated for his attacks on her and for what he did to the students in Criswall.

  In the dream, the vile face of Ba’al was watching her, staring with the cold, sapphire eyes of the imposing statue. She was bound by thick, leather straps, tied to the stone codex. The coldness seeped into her back, so cold she couldn’t stop shaking. Relek’s handsome face held the satisfied, bemused face of a conqueror, and she was the conquered. She sang, not out of desire, but out of absolute compulsion. She felt helpless before his power, and even now, that feeling of helplessness caused her to wilt over the horse, worried about whether she could withstand another attack from the dark magician.

  She glanced at Devin, and the grizzled man caught her inspection and gave her a concerned look.

  “Are you feeling okay?” he said, his voice deep and melodic. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “It’s nothing. Just remembering a bad dream.”

  “Must have been a terrible nightmare by the look on your face.”

  “Don’t worry about it. It was only a dream.”

  He shrugged, giving her a knowing look. “Up here in these mountains, dreams can become more than real. You would be wise to pay attention to your dreams and heed them as best as you can.”

  “Are you a philosopher as well as a woodsman?” She chuckled at him. “Besides, some dreams are better left alone; at least, that’s what I’ve found.”

  “I’m my own man and heedless to the dictates and definitions that the world places on people. I do what I must, and I do what I want. And if you catch me wearing a philosopher’s hat, hopefully, it fits.”

  She snorted. “Not really. I think that particular hat is a bit too large for your head.”

  “Ouch.” He pretended like he’d been struck in the heart. “Your wit is deadly.” He winked and gave a warm smile.

  Flushed, she suppressed a smile and looked away. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she found him attractive. She did, but she didn’t want him to know it. He was supposed to escort them up to Damak, a rough-hewn village on the edge of the wilderness, and that was it. There was little else she needed from the man.

  Lysha had told her some rumors she’d heard surrounding his activities up north. Rumors involving smuggling and disreputable business associates. Not that Elendria cared, though she had to admit the mystery surrounding the man’s life did make her curious.

  “Riding this horse is bloody awful,” Maggie said, shifting around in the saddle, her cute, dirty face a mask of irritation. She rode the gray mare with Lysha, her skinny arms wrapped tightly around her waist. “How far do we have to go?”

  They were barely an hour’s ride outside Wilhem, but the elevation was rising quickly. The trail was littered with boulders and massive roots from the craggy pines lining the path. If Maggie was already whining, Elendria wondered how she’d deal with the long ride ahead.

  “Quit your complaining.” Devin cast Maggie a look of warning. “You’re lucky to have escaped that nightmare in Criswall. One more day there and you probably would’ve ended up dead. You should have heard some of the stories from the others. What a vile, hideous place. We’re riding in the right direction; I can tell ya that. The south is filled with slithering snakes and demons.”

  Maggie snorted. “Still don’t mean my tail-end don’t hurt.”

  “And what of the north, woodsman?” Lysha looked suspiciously at the man and spurred her horse up alongside him. “I’ve heard stories of the dangers of the Great Barrier Mountains, so why should we feel comforted?”

  Devin snorted and spat out a nasty gob at a tree trunk. “You shouldn’t, missy. If there’s anything that life’s taught me, it is never get too comfortable. The only time for comfort and rest is when your dead.”

  Lysha shrank back in disgust, her face uncertain. She probably didn’t know how to deal with the man. Elendria was more used to uncouth men, but likely, Lysha had never encountered or spent much time with people lacking in social graces. She’d have to get used to it, for Elendria suspected Devin wouldn’t be the last rough-cut man they’d encounter.

  *

  After several hours of riding through the thick pine and cedar forests, steadily gaining elevation, they broke out into a vast, grassy meadow. The place was dotted with sharp, jutting boulders and covered in fragrant white, purple, and yellow wildflowers, the massive swaths of land sloping slowly up in gentle, overlapping hills. The air smelled stickily sweet of the scents of mountain rose and honeysuckle over the persistent smell of pine and grass, swirling in a sea of storm and vibrant mountain air.

  Maggie spread out her arms, eyes enchanted, and took in a long, luxurious breath, savoring the scene. Without asking, she slid off her horse and raced into the meadow, unable to contain her desire to dash through the beautiful field. Lysha ran after her, her innocent face beaming, mouth open in entrancement.

  Devin shrugged and halted his horse, dismounting. He allowed his gray and silver speckled stallion to roam free and feast on the tall grass. Elendria felt the desire to wander through the meadow and soon joined Lysha in chasing after Maggie. They scooped up flowers and flung them at each other in reckless abandonment. Their eyes sparkled in the brilliant afternoon sun. They discovered a swift-moving mountain stream, the water icy to the touch, and spied silvery fish darting deep underneath the rippling surface.

  Elendria gazed off and reveled in the sight of the snow blanketing the Great Barrier Mountains, with massive blue ice chunks capping the peaks and filling the glacier valleys, its frosty aquamarine surface catching the sunlight.

  “It’s so cold my mouth is tingling.” Lysha cupped her hands and enjoyed another drink of the mountain water. She gave a delighted laugh as the water dripped down her porcelain skin.

  “I’m so glad you came. This trip would’ve been unbearable without you.” Elendria felt reassured by Lysha’s kind, sympathetic eyes. Unfortunately, she also sensed sadness within. She was probably still worried about her parents. In Wilhem, she’d asked around at the inn after her mother and father, but no one had remembered seeing them. Despite the almost certainty of her parents’ demise, Lysha still refused to believe they were dead.

  “Thank you, Elendria. You’ve been a godsend for me. But I won’t stay long, you know.” Lysha’s voice was so soft she could barely make out the words. “I’ll return to Criswall when I can and search for my parents. I’m sure they’re still alive. I can feel it in my stomach. It’s a kind of a warm, prickling feeling. It keeps me going.”

  She caught herself and brightened suddenly, glancing up at her with a grave, determined expression. “What am I thinking? Enough of this sad talk. We’ve got to stick together and survive this. Who knows what we’ll have to deal with up in those mountains? You know, I’ve never really stared at the mountains, really studied them with the seriousness they deserve. They’ve always just been there in the background, like a painting on a wall. But now that we’re closer, I can see them, feel them, smell the power, and it scares me a little, though it excites me at the same time. The wildness and wonder of it all thrills me down to my core.”

&nb
sp; She laughed a disarming laugh as if embarrassed by her exuberance. “What about you? How are you feeling? I’m sure it’s not easy, considering…”

  Elendria winced and looked over at where Maggie was playing in the field. “I don’t know, Lysha. I don’t know what I feel. It’s like… I feel betrayed, but at the same time, I’m not surprised, especially considering how strange my father and mother have been. You know, what should I expect? I always thought my father was a drunk, and now, it turns out he’s a murderer and an insurrectionist. By now, the Duke is likely the leader of Criswall. With the army down south fighting Jalinfaer, who can say what will happen? I don’t know; it’s going to take some time for me to process it all.”

  And it would. She knew it for a fact, and it wouldn’t be easy to sort it out in her head. But she had to, no matter how painful and difficult it was for her.

  “Maybe it’s better we’re going far from Criswall. You’ll have time to think. You know?” Lysha rubbed her shoulder, her expression soft and consoling. “And I guess I’m finally looking forward to seeing the Great Barrier Mountains up close, after reading about it for so many years in adventure stories and tales of mythology. Who knows? Maybe the witches we’re going to visit can help me find my parents.”

  “I hope so, Lysha. I truly do.” Though, in her heart, she knew they were both dead. And the witches, if they had any true powers, would likely bear the brutal truth to Lysha in an uncaring way. Elendria had to protect her from the truth, even if it meant lying to her and making sure none of the witches told her a thing. For as long as Lysha had hope, Elendria knew she could keep going. Otherwise, she doubted her strength and ability to endure the truth and let the past go.

  They headed back to the horses, their moods morose now, and she found Devin’s intense eyes studying her with a strange curiosity. It was like he was wondering what they were talking about. He let out a small, contemptuous scoff and mounted his horse, shouting at Maggie to hurry up as his stallion trotted up the path.

  Why was he acting so mean? She pursed her lips and mounted her horse, swinging the mare around to follow him. They rode until it was dark, the last hints of color fading from a sky already filled with glittering stars. They only slowed down once they breached a small hill and spied a campfire burning up ahead.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Elendria could almost feel the muscles in Devin’s lean body tense in an instant. After a moment, he’d nocked an arrow in his readied longbow, aiming at the figures huddled around the campfire. At his swift reaction, Elendria found herself anxious and alert, her eyes straining to sense any movement from the people ahead.

  “You can lower your bow, stranger,” a man’s deep voice shouted from the camp, but the figures remained immobile and still hunched over the fire as if warming themselves. “We heard your horses minutes ago, all of ‘em. Come and join us by the fire. The night air holds a chill. We’ve food in case yer hungry.”

  How did the man know Devin had drawn his bow? The light had long faded, so it was unlikely they could see them from this far. Perhaps it was from an acutely developed sense of hearing? She found it incredible they could perceive so well in the night. But from the man’s voice, she sensed a hint of warning that caused her heart to pump fast.

  Devin brought his bow to his side and spurred his horse toward the fire. She noticed the woodsman remained ready for a fight; in his hand, she spied a glint of steel catching moonlight. Though the man ahead had invited them, she was sure Devin trusted no one out here in the wild mountains.

  “’Tis an odd choice to ride horses in the dark, stranger,” said the same deep voice, and the man turned his mangy head and studied their approach. The firelight danced off eyes as black as coal. Elendria found she didn’t trust the man and resolved to stay focused and alert for danger. She reached into her pocket and gripped the black stone in her hand.

  “’Twas a late start out, and we were aiming for the spot you chose for a camp.” Devin kept his voice subdued and unthreatening. As they got closer, she could count four men crouched in front of the fire. “’Tis an excellent choice with water and wood nearby.”

  “I thank ‘ye for yer compliment,” said the man, and he glanced over at Lysha and Elendria. At that moment, she sensed hunger and calculation in the man’s look, and that put her even more on edge. She discovered her hands had tensed after rising off the saddle. “We killed a deer only an hour ago. Yer welcome to join in the feast.”

  At the mention of food, her stomach gurgled. The wind changed and wafted the smell of venison into her nostrils. She salivated, imagining the taste of the meat. Lysha shifted uneasily in her saddle, and in the firelight, Elendria could see fear and apprehension in her eyes. She wasn’t the only one who was ready for a fight or to flee in case things went in the wrong direction.

  “Thank you for your kind offer. We’d of course pay for your hard work.” Devin said the last words with caution, naturally hesitant how to address the men.

  “We’ve no use fer coin as payment.” The mangy man’s eyes focused with fierce intensity on Lysha. “Accept our meat freely and enjoy the warmth of our fire.”

  One of the other men, a young, vicious looking woodsman with wild, curly hair and agitated eyes, shifted his gaze from the fire to Lysha and licked his lips. Devin didn’t miss his inspection, and he circled his horse around as if giving himself time to calculate whether to join the men.

  “You ride down from Damak?” Devin took out a thin cigar and lit the smoke, puffing on it with thoughtful eyes. The smell reminded Elendria of the time she first met Prince Jondran.

  “Harold’s Camp, about ten miles northwest of Damak.”

  “I know the place well and know Harold Janis. How is ol’ Harold and his two sons?” Devin narrowed his eyes, giving the mangy man his full attention.

  The man by the fire paused too long, and in that pause, Elendria sensed malice and the memory of violence in a cold, desolate camp. In a clairvoyant moment, she knew Harold and his sons were dead. The black stone seemed to vibrate with power.

  “Fine, I suppose. Seemed fine how we left ‘em. He got good coin for the furs, he did.”

  An intense vision came to her in a flash of this thief and murderer throwing a copper coin on the body of an old trapper splayed out bloodied and brutalized on a bed of snow.

  She returned to herself, startled. Her gaze pivoted to where she could see layers of furs rolled up to the side of the camp and horses off a ways, murmuring at their approach. The men were trying to pose as trappers, traveling down from the mountain to sell their wares in Criswall or Wilhem, but doing a horrible job at their disguises. She could see swords at their sides, longbows, and daggers, which further cemented her belief that they were thieves, murderers, and likely rapists.

  “You aiming to sell those furs in Wilhem?” Devin said, his face suspicious now as he studied the man’s pale, pasty face.

  “Criswall, actually, we’ll get a better bounty in the capital.” The man looked uncomfortable and irritated at the question. “Why’s a woodsman traveling alone with young’ins? It’s not safe out in the wilds fer girls.”

  The way he said girls made her skin crawl in revulsion.

  “It’s an unwise choice going to Criswall.” Devin ignored the question and snorted at the man’s querulous eyes. “The city’s in shambles. The army went off south to war. Most of the government’s dismantled, and a coven of mad magicians is ruling the place, or so I’ve been told by these girls and other refugees in Wilhem.”

  The mangy man gaped at Devin’s proclamation and glanced at the other men by the fire as if hoping for something to counter the dire news. When he found only shrugs and the shaking of heads, he looked back to Devin, his once cocky demeanor deflated. But then his eyes turned greedy suddenly, and a grin formed on his bearded face.

  “Well, I suppose prices will go up then, and likely, food will be in short supply.” He nodded to the smirking, young man at his side. “We’ll be aiming for Criswall as planned, thoug
h we may want to adjust the details slightly, considering the news…” His voice trailed off ominously as if the criminal mind was recalibrating its plans.

  “Do you have any news from Damak?” said Devin.

  “Nothing much, they’re still suffering from the last big snowstorm. Oh ya, and the witches are hassling the miners.” He clucked his tongue and tilted his head as if trying to remember. “Got so bad they gave up their mines. Nothing worse than a bunch of drunk miners sitting around in a pub all day with nothin’ to do.”

  “Well, thank you for the news. I suppose we’ll be on our way, then.” Devin nodded to the men and turned his horse back toward the path.

  “Out in the dead of night?” The mangy man let out a mocking laugh as he rose to his feet, bow suddenly in hand. The other three men joined him at once, sharing amused looks with each other. Elendria felt their cold eyes were craving violence and rape.

  She stretched out her fingers and aimed at the men, her heart racing in nervous expectation. When Devin circled his horse around again, his readied bow held a nocked arrow pointed at the mangy man. The other three men raised their bows in quick response, eyes steeled, snarls on their lips. She could see the wheel of violence tumbling down the mountainside, and there was nothing to stop it.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The idea came to Elendria in an instant. It wasn’t about the men but the campfire. The magic surged from her hands and poured out into the night.

  She heard the twang of strings from the bows loosing their arrows. Then the fire exploded in a glittering shower of embers and fingerling flames lapping the furs and flesh of the nearby men.

  A shaft sprouted out of the base of the mangy man’s neck. His clothes were aflame. His burning hands grasped the arrow as if there was any hope of survival from the mortal wound.