Tellus

by Tyffany Hackett

  “Thank you,” Jyn said, eyes wide. “Truly, this is an incredible gift. Thank you.”

  “Custom, for you,” Phelix said, satisfaction clear across his face. “Dwarven metal, though Elvish in style. You won’t find a more solid blade, and I daresay you won’t need to sharpen them very often, either.” He pondered Meryn, then me. “I found an ashwood bow on the beach yesterday. No quiver, and the bowstring was snapped, though I’m having that replaced. Judging by the size, I assume it’s one of yours?”

  Relief swelled in my chest. I nodded. The bow wasn’t particularly fancy. Camion could have made me another as easily as he had made the first. Still, I had mourned the loss.

  “What can we do to repay your kindness?” I asked the royals softly.

  The queen leaned forward, elbows pressed against the wooden table. “Save Araenna, Natylia. That’s more than I should ask of anyone for such small favors.”

  Save Araenna.

  Simple.

  Chapter 18

  “I’m going with you and that’s that,” Andimir said. His jaw was set, his tone brooking no argument—so, naturally, he and Jyn were squabbling. The sound had carried down the long hallway from the pirate’s bedroom, drawing my interest. Leaning against the door frame, I couldn’t help thinking I should have restrained my curiosity.

  “What about your crew?” Jyn countered. “You can’t leave them to fend for themselves.”

  “They’re grown adults. I’m their captain, not their mother.”

  “So, they’re going to vacation here, in Kalum, while you’re gone? Wait for you?”

  “No, they’ll go back to the rest of my fleet.” Andimir rolled his eyes. “I have more than one ship, you know. And if Eurybia was so quick to destroy the first, I’m going to have my crew move the rest north. Ships are useless at the bottom of the ocean, and I’ve heard a rumor you might need them soon.”

  Jyn shook his head in frustration. “I’m grateful that you got us here. I’m glad you and most of your people survived that attack. But honestly? You’ve served your purpose. At least for now. You can go back to the rest of your fleet.”

  “My flagship was decimated. I think I get a say in where I’m going.” Andimir watched me for a moment as I rubbed at my temples. My eyes flitted back and forth between the pair. Then he said, “Nat? Your thoughts?”

  “Don’t involve her in this.”

  “This is her venture,” Andimir snapped. “And she is our queen. She decides.”

  “I’m not going to stop anyone from coming with us,” I said hesitantly. “Especially not when Andimir is handy with a sword.”

  Andimir didn’t say a word, instead nodding as though accepting an order. He returned to the bag he was packing. Jyn shot me a glance––part fury, part betrayal. He stalked toward me, grabbing my arm to drag me with him as he stalked away down the hall. His scowl grew as he nudged me into the room he was staying in, then slammed the door shut behind.

  “You couldn’t at least discuss this with me first?” Anger simmered in his eyes, but the emotion was muted.

  I watched him for several heartbeats, eyes locked in a hard stare. “What’s really wrong, Jyn?”

  He froze and tossed his hands up. “Why him, Natylia? Of all people, why does he have to join us?” After a beat of silence, he added, “He’s another burden, another complication.”

  “Andimir hasn’t done anything wrong this time.” I moved closer and rested my hand on Jyn’s shaking arm. “I know you better than this. There’s more. Talk to me.”

  His chest rose and fell, then he said, “I can’t trust him as easily as you, Princess. I won’t stand by and watch him hurt you again.”

  “He can’t hurt me like he did before. I don’t love him.”

  “That’s true,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean he can’t cause harm. I know you better than that.” He ran his fingers through his hair, then sighed. “You’re asking a lot of me by allowing him to continue on with us. I can’t seem to relax my guard, no matter how much I try.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” I murmured. “We could use the extra sword, and loyalty like his can’t be bought. You know that.”

  “You’re right,” he huffed. “Even if I hate to admit it, you’re right. I’m sorry, Princess. My temper—”

  “Gets the best of you, especially where I’m concerned.” I smiled, tightening my grip on his arm. “Don’t think I don’t appreciate how much you care. But I promise you, I’m being careful. I see him though, under the pirate, under the swagger. The Andimir I remember. He’s still a good person.”

  “Maybe.” Jyn deflated a bit. “Fine. If he betrays us, I get to deal with him.”

  “Agreed.” I considered, then added, “Give him a chance, though. A real chance. You’ve been pretty cold to him.”

  “We’ll see.” He glanced around his room, then shook his head. “I suppose I should pack the new gear. You too, Princess.”

  Audri and Phelix had shown their charity again. They had replaced our soiled, damaged leathers; supplied us with thick, warm cloaks; and had armed each of us to our own preferences. Jyn had taken most advantage of the well-stocked armory, and his slew of new blades were spread in disarray across his bed.

  On top of all that, they had also given us new bed rolls, satchels, water skins . . . everything we could possibly need to survive not only the venture to the marsh, but elsewhere. Their kindness was overwhelming.

  Meryn sent a message to Sylvr with one of Audri’s spies. A confirmation that she still lived, but also because, even if she didn’t admit the emotion aloud, she was homesick. Apparently, the queen was quite familiar with their shop, a fact that had Meryn glowing with pride. She promised Audri that if ever she needed anything, Sylvr would be instructed to make her a top priority.

  As the sun began to vanish behind the horizon line, we said our goodbyes. Andimir spoke briefly with his second while Fetian chattered away on his shoulder. He bid each crew member luck and fair seas.

  Then we were off—his crew headed north as we started west.

  We tried to push ourselves, to cut down the time we were in the exposed land between Kalum and the heavier trees surrounding the marsh. But even on horseback, two full days passed without any sign of the tree line. Reluctantly, we admitted defeat and set camp for the night. All of us were falling asleep in our saddles, a level of exhaustion that was dangerous on multiple levels. We didn’t dare risk a fire, though none of us really had the energy to build one, even if we did. Jyn swore he could manage a watch shift, and I was too tired to argue. But when I woke closer to daybreak, I caught him dozing. I shoved myself upright and woke him long enough to insist he go lay down. He might be willing to cut himself on sleep, but if I was already awake there was no point.

  Camion woke next, his abrupt jolt to consciousness pulling my attention from the too-still grasslands around us.

  “Demons?” I whispered.

  He nodded, then brushed a kiss across my brow before he stood, rubbing at his face as he wandered from camp. I frowned, but a waterskin was placed onto my lap.

  “He’ll be all right,” Jyn said, lifting a shoulder.

  “I know.” I took a long drag from the waterskin. “I wish I knew more about what keeps waking him up.” I cast a sidelong stare at the Elf. “You should be asleep.”

  Jyn waved me off. “I’m fine. Have you asked Camion about these dreams?”

  “No,” I admitted. “I didn’t want to pry.”

  “Then you’ll have to keep waiting till he comes to you,” Andimir said.

  I jumped, unaware he was awake. “Sorry, were we too loud?”

  He shook his head, locs falling loose around his shoulders. “I’ve been awake on and off. The land is too quiet, makes my skin crawl.”

  Jyn nodded his agreement, reluctantly. “I don’t hear any insects or birds. The lack of sound is unnatural, even for an open area like this. Something is hunting here. Human, Vampyr, or another race entirely, I’m not sure.”

&
nbsp; A shiver raced up my spine. “We’ll move on as soon as Meryn wakes.”

  “Agreed,” Jyn said softly.

  I moved, rolling my bedroll to pack away, when I noticed that Andimir’s eyes were locked onto that silver chain again. He cleared his throat when he noticed my attention, shoving it into a pocket, but I frowned. “What exactly is that? You’ve been distracted for days. I’ve been meaning to ask.”

  Andimir sighed. For a moment, I thought he might not show me, that he might leave whatever was attached to that chain tucked into his pocket. Then he tugged the piece free and the metal case sparkled in the still-rising sunlight.

  “A compass?” I raised an eyebrow, confused.

  “The fleet I took over wasn’t taken by force,” he said, rubbing his thumb across a small hairline crack on the glass face. “I was given the ships, a gift from the woman who commanded them before me. The letter that contained her instructions, and the deeds to the ships, came with this compass. But I lost this years ago.”

  “And I’m assuming you lost your deeds after Eurybia attacked?” Jyn asked. Regret touched his expression.

  Andimir shook his head. “No. I keep them hidden on the mainland, and I have copies hidden in an entirely different location, as well. This though . . . this I kept on me at all times. I don’t know how I lost it. The thing fell from my pocket while working the rigging, or I was pickpocketed . . . I’m not sure. Honestly, the needle isn’t even that reliable, but she was a good friend. A friend I didn’t deserve while I was working through all the things from my past.” He glanced up at me then. “She always said this compass was the most important object a good pirate could have. And I lost it.”

  “Where did you find your missing compass, then?” I asked, tying my bag closed.

  “When I woke on the beach, the chain was in my hand.”

  Jyn frowned. “So how—”

  “I don’t know,” Andimir said. “Marinus? I almost don’t want to consider that possibility.”

  “But Marinus seems the most logical explanation. At present, anyway,” Meryn said with a yawn, stretching across the grass. She sat up, then paused, scanning the horizon. “Where are the insects? Have you heard any?”

  “No.” Jyn scowled. “I can’t hear a thing. Pack up. As soon as Camion returns, we’ll leave.”

  “Where did he go?” Meryn asked, shuffling through her pack.

  “He needed air.” I frowned. She scanned my face.

  “I can give him something for the dreams,” she said, rattling a little glass bottle. “Give him a modicum of peace.”

  “I don’t know if he’d be willing.” I followed his shadow, pacing around a distance away. “He’s stubborn.”

  “Suppressing the demons isn’t the same as fighting them,” Andimir argued. “Leave him alone.”

  “And what would you know about them?” I leveled a glare in his direction.

  “Enough.” He held my stare.

  I lowered my eyes. He was right. I didn’t know. Didn’t want to ask, the same way I didn’t want to ask Camion. The weight of their fears, their terrors, was too heavy. I couldn’t bear them. Or maybe, selfishly, I didn’t want to.

  Meryn looked between the two of us, subtly passing crumbs to Fetian from her pack. She cleared her throat before she said, “If we follow the sun, we should be in the marsh by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “We don’t have to follow the sun,” Andimir said, lifting his compass.

  “But you said that compass is unpredictable.” Jyn crossed his arms over his chest.

  “That’s true.” Andimir studied the glass face, tilting the case. “But the needle might point north—if I can get the thing to stop spinning.”

  “By the sun, then,” Jyn said, shouldering his pack. “Let’s move. I don’t like how exposed we are.”

  I clambered to my feet. Camion was only a few paces away. When I met his eyes, his lips curved into that half smile. He reached for my hand but didn’t speak. Didn’t tell me more. Andimir was probably right. I needed to let him come to me, even if I wanted to press him for details. Whatever happened, whatever still woke him up at night, he needed to sort through those terrors on his own. When he did, when he needed me, I would be here.

  ***

  At nightfall, we rested. None of us were too pleased with spending another night this exposed, but the chances that we might not find dry land to sleep on in the marsh were high. If we could afford the break, we needed to take it. I settled into my bedroll, drifting slowly to a chorus of snores and the soft rustle of flipping pages.

  Nightmares crept into my mind, deeper tonight than usual. The metallic scent of iron filled my nose, blood covering every surface I turned to for escape. No door would open, slick with crimson. Shadows crept down from the walls. Footsteps padded the ground.

  Cold steel bit into my throat.

  I gasped for breath, but a heavy hand tightened around my mouth and cut off most of my air. Twisting did nothing. My body was trapped by a solid weight. If I could wake up and get out of the terror in my mind—

  My eyes snapped open. A body, masked and draped in black, straddled my hips. The hand was real, pressed down firmly over my mouth and burying the scream that rose in my throat. Our horses stamped the ground nearby, uneasy and trying desperately to free themselves from the boulder we had anchored them to.

  Camion thrashed against the two bandits holding him down to my left, Andimir trapped by two of his own to my right. Fetian cawed angrily, diving at the assailants. His claws tore at their dark clothing, but they seemed unphased by his attacks. Meryn was held by a singular person, her eyes wide with apology and shock. I wondered how they had slipped past her watch.

  Jyn was still fighting. Fury lit his face like nothing I had ever seen before. Four bandits were on him, two pinning his arms as the other two struggled to restrain his legs. His boot connected with a jaw, a sickening crack sounding through the night air. The bandit staggered back, stumbling into the captor holding Meryn.

  Meryn snapped into action. She twisted, yanked her wrists free, and shoved a length of glittering rope away. Two finger snaps later and her palms were flame. Before I could blink, the two bandits restraining Jyn’s arms were down, their faces shoved into blood-splattered dirt.

  Camion caught my eye, inclined his head a fraction of an inch. All our training and I could only think of four words.

  I would not surrender.

  Meryn spun to face her captor as I struggled against my own. I slammed my full weight to the side, ignoring the blade that pricked at my throat. Unprepared, the masked man went over, landing on my left side—and within Camion’s range. Camion landed a solid kick to my captor’s cheek and sent him backward. That easily I was free, in time to see Meryn light up the two bandits who held Andimir.

  I swung my elbow for the face of the assailant who held Camion’s arms. The bandit caught my arm seconds before it made contact. I was prepared. His nose crunched under my fist, the yowl of pain only broken by the thud of his companion hitting the ground, his face bloodied from Camion’s own blows.

  Jyn was there, a muttered apology leaving his lips as crimson sprayed my and Camion’s hair and faces. A hand gripped my arms, pulling me backward. I spun on my attacker and yanked my sword free—in time for Camion to glance up, move, and slam his blade into the bandit’s chest. As the man slumped over, I looked between Camion and Jyn.

  “You didn’t think I could handle him,” I accused. Camion shook his head, trying to catch his breath. Jyn was the one to speak.

  “We do, Princess, but you shouldn’t have to,” Jyn panted, as Camion gestured his agreement. “Not if we’re around.”

  “I could have managed.”

  “I know,” Jyn said, voice low between staggered gasps. “But you can’t come back from that. Killing a person, I mean. I can’t put that on you. Not yet. Not if I don’t have to.” His eyes flitted to my throat. “Are you—”

  “I’m fine.”

  He spun his daggers in his hand
s, his expression torn between wanting to be sure and surveying the area. Camion climbed to his feet and came to my side. He brushed my throat and his fingers came away wet with dark, sticky blood. A frown drew his lips down.

  “Is she all right?” Jyn asked, eyeing Camion.

  “She won’t die,” Camion said, staring at my throat as he wiped the mess off his hand. “It’s shallow.” He looked uncertain.

  “We need to get her wrapped,” Andimir said quietly, startling me. He stood to my left, now watching Meryn who dug frantically through her packs.

  I studied each of them in turn, seeking wounds to match the blood sprayed over their leathers. Andimir appeared untouched, but they’d nicked Camion’s neck, a tiny bead of red sitting on his Adam’s apple.

  Jyn had a stream of crimson running down his left arm. My heart leaped into my throat before he noticed my stare and wiped the blood away.

  “Not mine,” he said gently. “They tried though. Whoever they were, they knew who we are. Who I am to you. They came for me first, then Meryn. Then you three.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Meryn said, soaking linens with some kind of yellow liquid. “This might sting.”

  Pungent whiskey bit into my nose. My throat burned when she dabbed the blood away, then cooled considerably as she packed the poultice of yarrow and myrrh oil over the wound.

  “What happened?” I asked, as she examined Camion.

  “I . . . fell asleep,” she admitted. “One second everything was quiet, the next . . .”

  Jyn’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Then he said, “Don’t worry, Meryn. We got through. We always do.”

  He met my eyes. I knew that wasn’t what he wanted to say, or how he wanted to react. But I gave him a short nod of approval, wincing at the slight pull of the bandages.

  “Are you sure you’re all right, Princess?”

  “Her wound isn’t deep,” Meryn interjected. “She’ll be okay.”