Idriel's Children (Odriel's Heirs Book 2)

by Hayley Reese Chow

  “My, my, aren’t you testy this morning?” Zephyr said, his brown eyes twinkling.

  Aza rested the blunt blade on her armored shoulder. “What do you want, Zeph?”

  Zephyr turned his back to her and walked over to pick out one of the training blades from the rack. “I just wanted to know why you’re still in such a tizzy.” He swung it experimentally. “We’ve got the run of the place now.”

  “Because Conrad is slimy, no one’s listening to me…” Aza twirled her blade around her wrist as she spoke. “And something just feels wrong.”

  She threw the heavy blade in the air and caught it again, spinning it around her other wrist. The Greens murmured appreciatively. Shad leapt onto the top of the weapons rack, his tail flicking from side to side.

  “Something feels wrong? What? Did you have a bad dream or something?” Zephyr knocked her spinning blade out of the air.

  With two quick steps, Aza caught it and pointed it at him. “All I wanted was to study with Dorinar to find out more about the Shadow Plane. I don’t think that’s asking a lot.”

  “That’s a terrible idea.” Zephyr scoffed. “Not even Mother and Father travel alone, and Tazgar is almost a month-long journey. Besides, Dorinar’s not exactly friendly.”

  Aza beat at his blade, almost jarring it from his relaxed fingers and closed in until her face was inches from his. “I’m a Shadow Heir,” she hissed. “I’m more than capable.”

  Zephyr ducked with a sweeping kick to knock Aza’s feet out from under her. She avoided it with a one-handed back handspring. He closed the distance and attacked with three slashes before locking blades with Aza. “Calm your britches! Our parents are literally legends. They don’t need your help. Why can’t you just relax for once? With them gone, I’m going to train an elite class.” Ambition lit Zephyr’s eyes.

  Aza threw him off and hacked at his blade, getting through his defense to slap him on the thigh with the flat of her weapon. “How typical. Our parents are journeying to the war-torn barbarian border to face the Lost and all you can think about is you.”

  “Oh, get off your high horse.” Zephyr grabbed her sword arm and flipped her into the dirt. “This is about your obsession with the Shadow Plane, not your concern for our parents.”

  Aza rolled with the throw and sprang to her feet. In another blink, she launched herself at Zephyr once again, battering away at his blade. “I’m not obsessed.”

  Zephyr retreated while he parried and dodged her furious blows. “Oh c’mon, Azy.” He grinned. “You’re always off in your own little world. It’s all you think about.”

  “At least I’m actually thinking about something, instead of chasing after girls.” Aza knocked the light blade out of Zephyr’s hand and slashed low at his legs.

  Zephyr nimbly avoided the blunt edge of her weapon and dove toward his blade. He picked it up with a roll and came to his feet. “I can’t help it if I’m a town favorite.” He feinted right and struck quickly at her left. “And they’ll love me even more when I convince the Aquilond regent to make me captain of his shields.” Aza let him in close enough to clip her on the shoulder. She absorbed the blow, using its momentum to send her into a spinning kick that smashed against Zephyr’s chest and knocked him on his back.

  “Well as far as I’m concerned, brother, Catalede is all yours. Don’t let me stand in the way of your plans.”

  Zephyr stretched on the ground with a yawn and pillowed his hands behind his head as if there were no place he’d rather be. “I won’t.”

  Aza sank her blade into the dirt, too aggravated for words, and stalked out. There was no talking to her meathead brother. Hot with frustration, she nearly ran over Witt on her way out of the courtyard’s stone archway.

  “Oh, Aza, are you looking for a sparring partner? Because…” Witt flexed a thin bicep.

  She stepped around him without pause. “Try my fool of a brother instead,” she called over her shoulder. “He needs the practice.”

  With a huff of annoyance, she rounded the corner and ran straight into a seven-foot-tall beast. Aza stepped back, the smell of wet dog and animal musk nearly overpowering her. Covered in shaggy wheat-colored fur, the Maldibor wore a huge broadsword strapped to his bear-like torso, a pair of loose breeches, and dusty boots. One of his wolfish ears flicked forward while the other lay half-flopped, and his green eyes crinkled with good humor.

  “Hello, Aza.”

  Makeo.

  What were the Maldibor doing here? Of course, the sentry would’ve let them in—the Maldibor clan were always welcome. But it was a three-week journey from their village in Carceroc Forest, and the spring festival wasn’t for another fortnight. Even then it was usually the chief, Tekoa, who visited… not his nephew.

  She stepped back and crossed her arms to keep the twisting emotions hidden within. It had been years since she’d even seen Makeo, much less spoken to him. Now, here he was, the cursed beast looming larger than ever. Though Aza would only ever be able to see the light-footed boy with the bright smile he used to be. For the friendly warmth that was Makeo still oozed out of his hulking form, wrapping her in its nostalgic embrace. And all she wanted to do was get away from him.

  “Makeo.” She nodded. “We… weren’t expecting you.”

  “Our apologies.” His tongue lolled out to show his long teeth in the Maldibor smile. “It was an unexpected visit.”

  A broad-shouldered young woman with short mahogany curls walked up from behind him, a long sword on her belt and a smile on her lips. Though she didn’t share her cousin’s beastly form, her tense eyes glowed green with the curse she’d pass on to her sons. “Aza,” she said, taking Aza by the forearm in the traditional Maldibor greeting. “Good to see you.”

  “Hoku.” Aza squeezed Hoku’s forearm in return, her skin prickling. “Is there something wrong?”

  Hoku raised her chin. “We seek aid from the Heirs.”

  Aza’s heart turned cold. Another coincidence. “I’m afraid you missed them.” She fingered the hilt of one of her daggers. “My parents left with the Dracour a week ago to defend the west from the Lost.”

  Hoku and Makeo exchanged a taut glance.

  “That’s terrible news,” Hoku whispered.

  Zephyr emerged from the archway behind Aza with Shad following as a silent shadow.

  “Hoku and Makeo! What a pleasant surprise,” Zephyr said with a wide smile. He walked up beside Aza and squeezed her shoulder. Her jaw tightening, Aza shrugged his hand away.

  “It’s good to see you.” Zephyr’s forehead wrinkled as he took in their grim expressions. “Is there some… trouble?”

  “Something disturbs the denizens of Carceroc,” Makeo rumbled in his deep bass. “The creatures grow restless and aggressive. We fear we may not be able to stay, so Chief Tekoa requests the strength of the Heirs to ensure the safety of our people.”

  A shiver ran up Aza’s spine. The magi had imprisoned the ancient mankillers in Carceroc to keep humanity safe, and their stories warned of the hypnotizing cylcogres, the childlike cries of the bloodsucking strigans, and of course, the king of darkness—the Dolobra. Though the creatures usually lived peacefully alongside the Maldibor, that didn’t stop the elders from scaring their children with hair-raising tales to keep them from straying too far into the labyrinth of Carceroc Forest.

  “Well, that can’t be a coincidence.” Shad curled his tail around his haunches as he sat on the dirt path. “Trouble in the west and disturbances in Carceroc.”

  Aza raised an eyebrow. At least she wasn’t the only one seeing the connection.

  Zephyr straightened—all traces of his earlier levity gone. “How long until you have to move?”

  “As soon as possible,” Hoku said.

  For a moment, Zephyr was silent. His gaze swept over Catalede, the mountains beyond, and then back to Hoku. His brows knitted as he weighed the options, and Aza could read the thoughts on his face as if they were scrawled on his forehead. Their parents had left firm instructions t
o look after Catalede, but… Tekoa was their mother’s closest friend. They couldn’t abandon the Maldibor in their time of need. Plus, defeating the ancient mankillers of Carceroc? The villagers would love him for it.

  The creases in Zephyr’s face smoothed into a smile as he made his decision. “Anything for our Maldibor friends.” Zephyr looked at Aza, his cheeks practically glowing with excited ambition.

  Aza repressed the urge to roll her eyes and nodded. Any action was better than staying here.

  “I’ll gather the students that are willing and competent and arrange for my uncles to lead in our absence.” Zephyr rubbed his jaw as he thought. “We can leave as early as tomorrow.”

  “Our thanks, Zephyr.” The lines eased from Hoku’s face. “This means the world to our clan.”

  “Of course, it’s our duty.” Zephyr took her hand with his most charming smile and pulled her toward the training ground. “But come, rest and have something to eat while we make the preparations.”

  Zephyr ushered the Maldibor woman away, and Shad’s tail swept across the dirt path. “Just when I thought I was going to get some rest for a change.”

  Aza arched a brow. “Shouldn’t you stay here? You’re still weak.”

  “If the ancient forest of mankillers really is in turmoil, I’d rather not leave it in the hands of overgrown children.” Shad’s blue eye pierced through her. “No offense.”

  Makeo laughed in his rough, grating voice, and Aza suppressed the urge to deck both of them. “I thought you, of all people, wouldn’t underestimate a young Heir.”

  “Underestimate? Never.” Shad’s gaze slid along the scar on her cheek, like everyone’s did at one point or another. “But I thought you, of all people, would understand that even Heirs make mistakes.”

  Aza’s muscles tensed, the arrow of guilt finding its mark in her gut.

  “Mistakes that are learned from, Shadmundar,” Makeo rumbled softly, his soft gaze never leaving Aza.

  Shad almost purred. “Well, that remains to be seen.”

  ✽✽✽

  True to his word, and no doubt motivated by visions of glory, Zephyr assembled the travelers and their supplies before the sun had reached its peak the next day. And not two weeks after Aza had traveled north over the pass, she found herself headed south again with a dozen Greens, one cursed cat, and two Maldibor. Their mounts trailed in a long line through the tall mountain grass, the dirt path curving around the belly of the broad mountain, and the rocky, white-capped peaks staring down on them.

  The cold fingers of the spring breeze wormed through Aza’s dark cloak, bringing with it the promise of a late frost with the falling sun. Though Zephyr and the Greens chuckled and chattered up ahead, Aza let herself fall behind. Her gaze still followed the others’ expressions and gestures, but her mind spun with her own thoughts.

  Even though she’d rather be traveling her own way, she’d gone along with her brother’s overbearing lead. Every step away from Catalede was a step in the right direction—for now. While she cared deeply for the Maldibor tribe, the world was turning upside down all at once, and if she was going to fix it, she needed to cut out the heart of the problem, not the fingers.

  Shad’s battered ears poked out of Zephyr’s saddlebag, and Aza’s eyes strayed to Makeo and Hoku’s Dalteek—a flaxen liver chestnut for him and a piebald for her. Makeo’s tall ear flicked back toward her almost as if he could feel her eyes. Just looking at him reminded her of all those summers she had spent chasing after the round-cheeked boy with floppy blond hair he had once been—before his family’s inevitable curse claimed him in adolescence. Even though they hadn’t spoken since he first arrived, it was as if a well of unspoken words filled the space between them. Yet another reason she had to get away.

  “I guess I never really had a chance against that Maldibor, huh?”

  Aza turned to see Witt Corser smiling at her from the back of a muddy brown gelding. She tried to keep her cheeks from burning. “Witt, you never had a chance against the old scarecrow in our garden.” She shook her head. “I thought you would’ve wanted to stay for the festival.”

  He shrugged with calculated innocence. “What good is the festival if you’re not there to be my dance partner?”

  Aza silently cursed her brother for letting this idiot tag along. Although he’d trained alongside them at Catalede for years, it hardly compensated for his annoying personality.

  He didn’t wait for her answer before going on. “It’s actually my first time farther than Aquilond, if you can believe it.” He rubbed the leather reins between his fingers. “Since I’m seventeen now, it was the first time my parents couldn’t force me to stay.”

  “Pity.”

  He continued on, but she didn’t hear him, as calculations rattled through her mind. It would take a party this size three weeks to reach Carceroc. From Carceroc, it would probably take her a week to make it over the mountains to Tazgar marsh by herself. She didn’t have that kind of time. But… what if she left now and went by sea instead? She could reach Aquilond in three days, and the sea voyage would cut the journey in half.

  Her gaze cut to the sinking sun across the lush mountain meadows dotted with the bright orange petals of phoenix clover. They’d be making camp soon, but they’d be cutting west across Glim Pass in the morning. And she couldn’t be with them when they did. She wasn’t going to make the obvious move again. And if she traveled fast, she might still be able to meet them in Carceroc in a few weeks’ time. Armed with Dorinar’s knowledge, they could get to the root of the problem instead of hassling with the weeds.

  The decision sank and solidified in her chest like cooling metal. With her mind made up, she straightened in her saddle, a smile at last smoothing her scowl. She turned to Witt and was surprised to find that he was, in fact, still talking.

  “I’ve just been dreaming of going with you and Zeph on your adventures since we were kids, you know?”

  “Sure, Witt.” Her gaze drifted east, away from him. Starting tomorrow Witt, Zephyr, and Makeo could go off on their own adventure. And she could go on hers.

  Chapter Five

  Paths Diverge

  That night the party gathered around the campfire in a thick copse of trees to break their almost-fresh bread. The Greens’ laughter boomed in the shelter of the white trunks of the evergold pines as they bantered with one another, their good cheer brightening the thick dusk. Witt prattled on about the different stews his mother made at the Cataledan Inn as he stirred the pot hanging over their fire. He’d collected some herbs and roots to add to the stout chuckhog that a Green had managed to shoot earlier in the day, and though Aza hated to admit it, the stew smelled delicious.

  Aza’s gaze stayed on her brother as he joked with Witt and his other friends. How would he react when she told him she was leaving? Her eyes flicked to Makeo across the fire. And would Tekoa and his clan forgive her if she didn’t answer the call to defend their people? She wanted to help after all, but she knew in her gut, this wasn’t the way to do it.

  She took a bite from the hunk of bread in her hand and sighed. Perhaps if she wished it hard enough, she could just melt into the shadow of the trees, and they wouldn’t even realize she was gone. A mellow flute broke through her thoughts as one of the Greens struck up a familiar tune. It was an old song, but not an ancient one, and they all knew the words. It only took a moment for a deep voice to start the first verse.

  Nifras, the demon,

  Raised the dead,

  So Odriel, the blessed,

  Raised the Heirs in his stead.

  He set the brave alight,

  Covered the sly with a pall,

  Letting the gentle heal,

  To battle the demon and save us all.

  They put the demon down,

  And for eons he slept,

  Till the world forgot,

  And from his grave he leapt.

  Okarria’s finest answered our plea,

  Led by a girl and a wolf,

 
; And a man walking unseen,

  They charged to death’s arms,

  Through fire and steel,

  The necromancer failed,

  Burned with his Lost,

  Now, we sing their tale.

  The Greens clapped and whooped at the song, patting her brother on the back, as if touching an Heir would get them just a little closer to the fresh legend. Aza’s lips twisted into a wry grin. Her mother hated that telling. She hated how it painted the battle as if it had been some grand victory, rather than a desperate scrabble for survival. And how it left out the human necromancer who had almost killed them. Especially now that his son, Valente Conrad, was campaigning to revive the monarchy. And she especially hated how it didn’t mention the death of their third counterpart, the healing Time Heir, and everyone else who’d fallen.

  Aza’s gut twisted. Her mother would skin her alive if she knew that she planned to abandon the Maldibor in their time of need. She stepped back from the fire and gathered the shadows around her, hiding herself from sight. If she was going to go off on her own, she had to be sure. She stopped, hesitating. The drain on her muscles would make the ride miserable for the next couple days.

  “Azzaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.”

  But she had to see it again. Her skin practically itched with the need for the shadows. She tensed her muscles and pulled.

  In a dizzying rush of draining yanaa, the honey-colored boughs of the evergolds disappeared and the plunge into the darkness wrapped her in its rapturous arms. The Shadow Plane was empty once again, fields of gray stretching beyond her sight.

  Impatient, Aza yelled into the black, “Well! You called me! What do you want?”

  The wind swooped around her in an angry gust, and Aza braced herself for the screams. But instead, snatches of her parents’ voices whispered on the wind.