And now, they were ruined.
Her eyes burned as tears threatened to form, but she blinked them away. She shoved the pages back into her leather case and bent to collect the rest. There was no saving these drawings, but Tyrus would have no trouble making more once she’d saved him.
“What are those?” Jameson asked, walking over to stand above her. “Oh dear, they’re all ruined. What a shame.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aleida snapped. She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince him or herself. “They’re just letters. I’ve already read them.”
“And drawings, too.” He plucked one of the papers from the ground. “These are quite good…or at least, this one is. Did you make this?”
Aleida yanked it away from him and glanced at it before stuffing it into her case. It was a portrait of Amar and remained in decent condition, thanks to the magical durability she’d channeled into the paper and ink while drawing it. It was one she’d carried around in her pocket to show people while asking about him. But even magic couldn’t completely thwart the effects of a good soak in the ocean.
“Where exactly is Shavhalla, anyway?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.
“Oh, about three weeks’ journey from here, maybe a little less. It lies deep within the Vihaara Forest.” He picked up another paper, studying it for a few seconds before handing it to her. It was one of Tyrus’ letters.
“Stop that,” she muttered, yanking it away from him.
“Stop what?”
“Don’t touch my things.”
He hung his head, looking supremely offended. “I was only trying to help.”
“Only trying to snoop, you mean.”
Valkyra fluttered up to Aleida’s shoulder. “Looking for information to help you escape, perhaps?”
“Can you blame me?” the man asked. “I didn’t ask to be dragged along on this little adventure of yours, and neither of you have been very nice to me. If you’d only tell me what you want, I’d be happy to oblige, and we can go our separate ways in peace.”
“So willing to sell out your friends, are you?” Valkyra said.
“They’re not friends,” Jameson retorted. “They were pleasant enough, but I’m not a hero and I never claimed to be selfless or brave. All I want is to get out of this alive and unharmed, and you’ve made it perfectly clear that won’t happen if I cross you. But perhaps we can make a deal. I’ll tell you how to get to Shavhalla, and then you can leave me here and be on your merry way.”
Valkyra’s mouth curved up in a reticent smile, but Aleida could sense the hostility beneath it. She didn’t trust him, which meant Aleida wasn’t about to, either.
“It’s better if you take us yourself,” she said.
“I beg to differ,” he muttered sullenly.
She said nothing to counter his protest but raised her hand and sent tendrils of lightning dancing through her fingertips. Jameson flinched at the implied threat. She kept channeling her altma a few seconds longer, just for good measure. “How long before Amar reaches Shavhalla?”
He cocked his head to one side, considering the question. “They’ll arrive in Pahari in the next day or two. From there, it should only take them a couple of weeks.”
That wasn’t so bad. They’d lost less time than Aleida had feared. “We could still catch up to him,” she said to Valkyra.
The Spirit Tarja only nodded. Aleida stuck her leather case back inside her pack and sat down near the fire. The food looked ready. She grabbed one of the sticks speared through roasted fish and onion, handed it to Jameson, and took another for herself.
“Why exactly have you two been chasing Amar all this time?” the man asked as they ate. “What do you want with him?”
“That’s none of your concern,” Valkyra replied.
“They thought it might be something to do with his immortality.”
Aleida exchanged a quick look with Valkyra but said nothing.
“I can’t see what use that would be to you,” Jameson went on. “It’s his curse. It’s not like you can magically use it to make yourselves immortal.”
Aleida frowned. She still had her own doubts about Amar’s curse, and hearing the Tarja voice them aloud stung. Was he right? Could Amar’s immortality be useless to Tyrus?
No. That was fear talking. Valkyra had always been so certain, and she was a skilled and powerful Tarja in her own right. Even now, her expression was kind and reassuring, and she rolled her eyes at Jameson as if to say what a fool he was.
That made Aleida feel better. What did he know, after all? In life, Valkyra must have been far more powerful than he was. She probably knew all kinds of things he didn’t, and if she said there was a way to use Amar’s curse to save Tyrus, Aleida believed her.
She had to. The only other choice was giving up, and she would never be willing to do that.
38
Amar
The day after the battle, Amar, Mitul, and Saya worked alongside the crew of the Vindicator to repair whatever damage they could as the ship continued its course to Pahari. The Golden Raven had taken far more damage than the Vindicator, and some of the sailors and the surgeon from the navy ship went over to assist the crew of the Raven. Kesari and Lucian went with them, and they didn’t get back until late that night.
Unable to sleep, Amar found himself on the upper deck of the ship when they returned. Most of the sailors trailed down to their quarters on the lower decks while others took up their assigned night duties. Kesari stayed behind, leaning against the portside bulwark of the ship and staring out across the water. The coastline beyond was barely more than a darker strip of shadow in the night.
Lucian found his way over to Amar. “No sleep for you either?”
“I tried,” he said. “I can’t stop thinking about that Visan woman and her Spirit Tarja.”
“That is a disturbing thought, I admit.”
“How do they keep finding me? And why?”
“This may surprise you,” Lucian said ruefully, “but some of us would love the opportunity to live longer than the time we were given.”
“Trust me, the novelty wears off after a few centuries.”
“I can only imagine. They do seem rather obsessive about tracking you down, though. I assumed we’d lost them a long time ago, but it seems we should have been more appreciative of their tenacity.”
Amar crossed his arms as a chill breeze blew across the deck. “Do you think there’s any chance we’ve lost them for good now?”
“After all the efforts they made to find you again?” Lucian said. “I wouldn’t count on it. We should probably watch our backs a little closer from now on. Things could have ended much differently if we weren’t aboard a well-armed ship with such a competent captain.”
“That’s what worries me.” Not so much for himself, but he didn’t like to think of Mitul or the others getting caught in the crossfire of his next fight with the woman. He nodded to Kesari. “How is she?”
“Still a bit shaken, I think. But she did well today. She helped a lot of people.”
“That’s good.”
“I hope so.” Lucian sighed. “I think she felt like she had to use her magic last night, like she didn’t have a choice, and I wish that hadn’t been forced on her. I’m not sure she was really ready for it. But she has a good heart, and she wants to help. I tried to talk her out of going to the Raven, but she wouldn’t hear it.”
Amar chuckled and shook his head. “Used to be no one could talk her into using her magic at all.”
“She’s come a long way.” There was a note of pride in the Spirit Tarja’s voice, and he grew a little bigger. “You should go talk to her.”
“Me? What would I say?”
“Anything. I think she could use a friend right now, and I’m more of a…well, not a parent, but something like it. She’s had enough of my advice for one day.”
Amar shrugged. He wasn’t sure what good it would do, but it seemed to be important to Lucian, so he walke
d over to the bulwark to stand beside Kesari.
“Oh, hello,” she said, making a poor attempt at a smile.
“Nice night,” he said, looking up at the stars. “Peaceful.”
“I guess,” she replied.
The conversation lapsed into silence while Amar struggled to think of something to say. He hadn’t spent much time with Kesari since they’d left Deveaural, but there were subtle changes in her demeanor that made him understand why Lucian might be worried about her. On the surface, she seemed more confident, and Amar had assumed her willingness to use her magic was a reflection of that. But there were cracks in her armor, a subdued sense of sadness that seemed to weigh her down and diminish some of the vibrance in her eyes.
“Some of the sailors were talking about you today,” he said at last. “The Tarja girl who healed them and their friends. You made a good impression.”
“I’m glad,” she said with that same, forced half-smile.
He pursed his lips. This was stupid. He didn’t know how to help her feel better. In six centuries, he hadn’t figured out the many nuances of human relationships. He hadn’t wanted to, and he still didn’t. Because even now that he had his memories back, what was the point? He’d outlive every single one of them if he didn’t die again and forget them first. The threat of losing it all still loomed over him like a shadow.
But Kesari had been there for him when he needed her most. He had to at least try.
“What about you?” he asked. “You helped everyone else, but how are you doing?”
She shrugged and shook her head but said nothing.
“Well, it was very brave of you to step in like that. It couldn’t have been easy.”
She didn’t respond for so long that Amar almost gave up and walked away. At last, she said, “I was terrified the whole time. I thought I was going to mess up and hurt those poor people even more.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No, but I could have.”
“I was scared, too,” Amar admitted.
She sighed. “Of course you were. It was a battle. We could have died. But you didn’t have to be afraid of yourself, did you?”
She sounded almost angry, desperate for someone to understand her and yet furious that he didn’t. He’d said the wrong thing, as usual.
“You’re right. I wasn’t afraid of myself—not this time. But I’ll tell you a secret.” He drummed his fingers against the edge of the bulwark. “I’ve spent most of my life being scared.”
She looked at him, brows furrowed and eyes searching. “Scared of what?”
“Losing the people I care about. Losing everyone.”
“You’ve lost a lot of people already,” Kesari said gently. “It’s understandable.”
“Maybe, but I’ve let that fear hold me back in a lot of ways. I think you know a little about what that’s like?”
She looked down into the dark water below. “I just don’t want to hurt anyone else.”
“And I don’t want to lose anyone else. But think of all the good things we’re both missing out on if we let that fear stop us.”
He leaned forward on his elbows and nudged his shoulder against hers. “I’m an old man, Kes. I know I don’t look like it, but I am. And if I could give one piece of advice to an impressive young lady like yourself, it would be this. Don’t be like me. Don’t let fear hold you back from living. There’s so much good you could do with that gift—so much good you’ve done already. And if that’s what you still want to do, then do it.”
Her only response was a slow nod, and they stood there staring out into the night in silence, watching the sea slip by beneath them.
After two more days of sailing, the Vindicator docked at Pahari alongside the Golden Raven. Captain Rutledge came to see Amar and his friends off when they disembarked.
“I hope you find what you’re looking for out there,” she said, giving them all a salute. “Kesari, it was an honor to serve with a member of the Eves family once more. Rajiv would have been proud of who you’ve become.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Captain.”
“If any of you ever need to take to the seas again, my crew and I would be happy to have you aboard.” She turned to Amar with a wink and a crooked smirk. “Though perhaps you might warn us the next time you’ve got such determined enemies on your trail.”
He bowed his head to hide a sheepish grin.
“Thank you for all of your help,” Kesari said.
“Aye, it was no trouble. Good luck and safe travels to the lot of you.”
They bid her farewell and waved goodbye to the crew. It took them the rest of the afternoon to get out of Pahari. First, they had to stop for supplies, a task which proved difficult once vendors pegged them for tourists and then competed with each other for their business. Solicitations from the most determined didn’t stop even once they’d bought everything they needed, and they struggled to extricate themselves as quickly and politely as possible. When they finally left the city, Amar found himself looking forward to the comparative solitude and silence of the forest.
They didn’t have to walk far to reach its borders. A well-trodden road ran along the riverbank into the trees, but by the time they stopped to make camp for the night, the road had turned to little more than a game trail, and the trees and underbrush had grown so thick they couldn’t see very far ahead. The entire forest seemed to have an immense, overpowering weight to it. Some of the trees within its depths might have been the oldest in all of Erythyr.
While the others prepared a meal, Amar took out the map Jameson had given him, which was simply a page traced from an old book about one explorer’s travels to Shavhalla. The records indicated she hadn’t actually entered the lost city, but she claimed to have made it close enough to see some of the ruins from a distance. She was one of only a handful of explorers to have made it back from the venture alive and of sound mind, which made her maps and firsthand reports the safest ones to rely on. Still, there would likely be plenty of guesswork involved in their own navigation once they got closer.
Hovering overhead, Lucian illuminated the map, and Amar pointed to a space in the middle that had been left empty. “Shavhalla should be around here. Jameson said if we follow the river, we’ll eventually come to a series of bridges and stairs that will take us there.”
“We should head down to the riverbank tomorrow,” Saya suggested. “I’d feel better if we stayed near the water. It wouldn’t take much to get lost in here, and at least that way, we’ll be able to find our way back out if we need to.”
The others nodded in agreement, and Amar returned the map to his pack. “Let’s eat and get some rest, then. We have some long days ahead of us.”
For the next several days, they followed the river’s path through the dense green forest. The terrain was rocky and uneven near the riverbank, and beyond that, the trees and underbrush grew so thick as to be almost impossible to navigate. The canopy overhead cast every step in heavy shadow, and their progress was slow, even with Lucian taking the lead to alert them of any obstacles ahead. In the darkest sections of their path, Kesari helped to light the way with an orb of magical light encasing her palm.
They made camp each night wherever they could find a clear space, pushing aside some of the ground cover as needed so they could all lie down. The night brought eerie sounds and a darkness so thick that not even the light from Kesari’s magic could penetrate it far. Lucian kept watch while the others slept. Some nights, he would wake them when the sounds of wolves and other predators drew a little too close for comfort. Only once did the wolves come near enough to see, and they retreated when Lucian’s flames grew larger, but Amar kept his sword and his pistol close by when he slept. Whatever dangers lurked in the darkness, he was ready to defend himself and his friends.
His anticipation grew with each step, and he began to look for signs in their repetitive surroundings. Signs that they were nearing Shavhalla, but also signs of the familiar. Something from his childhoo
d, maybe, some memory that would come back to him with the right cue. But the trees all looked the same, and there was nothing telling in the sounds, smells, or textures all around him.
At the end of the second week, the ground began to slope up in front of them. They were nearing the foothills of the mountains deep within the forest. Shavhalla couldn’t be too far now, and Amar began to worry that they’d missed the bridges and stairs Jameson’s explorer had written about. In the eighty years since she’d traveled here, it was entirely possible that the structures she claimed to have seen were no longer standing. Surely if they were on the right track, they would have come across some sign by now.
Despite Amar’s concerns, they pressed on. Late into the afternoon, Lucian stopped abruptly, then floated a short distance ahead as if to get a closer look at something.
“What is it?” Amar called to him, already quickening his own pace to follow.
“I think I’ve found our bridge.”
The others’ footsteps crunched through the foliage behind him. In Lucian’s dim orange glow, Amar could see what appeared to be a series of tree roots and branches woven together and extending out over the bank of the river. Kesari held out her hand, and her orb of light sprung from her palm. As it floated toward the river, Amar stared in amazement at what he saw.
The woven tree roots crossed the entire width of the river to the opposite bank, forming a natural bridge. It was only wide enough for two people to cross side by side, but it still looked sturdy and safe even after untold years of disuse. Sidewalls made of more roots and branches extended up to about waist-height, with moss and flowering vines laced between their intricate crisscrossing.
The beauty and simple ingenuity of the structure tugged at something in Amar’s chest, and the barest hints of a memory floated across his mind. A man’s laughter, the jostle of riding horseback, the taut pull of a bowstring in his hands.
Had he been here before? He must have been, so many lifetimes ago. But the memory was gone as quickly as it had come, nothing more than a passing shadow.
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