What do they have against rovers? Ayrion wondered. From what he’d been told by Tameel and Zynora, they were much like the tinkers. They spent their lives traveling, doing their best to stay out of others’ affairs.
Ayrion grabbed the smallest of the coin purses hidden at the bottom of the chest, making sure it had only a silver or two more than what was required, and headed back to the front. Zynora pointed to where she had stashed his swords just inside the front hatch, close enough that he could reach them if he needed to. He nodded as he passed.
“Well, if you’re an example of the so-called honest folk around here, sir,” Tameel said, “I believe I’ll take my chances with the child. How much for his passage?”
Ayrion crawled through the front hatch and handed Tameel the leather purse.
The man eyed the size of it and tugged on his whiskers. “Well, he has caused us a great deal of trouble, what with him kicking one of Perel’s teeth loose.” He pointed back to one of the men who had an arm on the boy. The man quickly began to rub his jaw. “So, I’m thinking another silver would do.”
Ayrion bit down to keep from responding.
Tameel opened the drawstrings and picked out the appropriate coinage. He juggled the five silver pieces around for the bandits to see. “Here’s your payment. Now let the boy go.”
The man eyed Tameel’s hands for a moment before turning around and nodding for them to release the boy.
“Come here, rover!”
The boy didn’t move—too scared, no doubt—until one of the men standing behind him gave him a forceful shove.
The highwayman reached out and grabbed the boy by his collar and marched him around to Tameel’s side of the wagon. “Hand me the coins and I’ll release him.”
Tameel laid the purse down on the seat beside Ayrion before leaning over and dropping the coins into the man’s awaiting palm.
Surprisingly enough, the man released the boy and walked back around the horses to his wagon. He motioned for the others to help, and they pushed the wagon off the road.
“No!” the little boy shouted. “We need to go back. I need to find a healer.” Tameel pulled him up onto the seat. He tried jerking out of Tameel’s grasp, but Ayrion grabbed him instead and placed him on the seat between them.
“We need to go back!”
“The only place we need to go is out of here,” Tameel said as he snapped the reins. “Giddy up there!”
Ayrion tensed as the wagon slowly approached the bridge. The highwaymen stood to either side, watching quietly. He kept one hand around the rover boy and the other just inside the front opening, where Zynora had placed his swords.
The boy squirmed to get out of the seat, but Ayrion held him down.
The bridge planks creaked and groaned as the heavy wagon rolled slowly across. It wasn’t until they were on the other side and moving up the next hill that Ayrion finally breathed a little easier.
“Why didn’t you let me take care of them?” Ayrion asked Tameel.
“Because unleashing those blades can’t be the answer to all our problems. It only draws more attention. Besides, I’d be more than happy to pay a couple of silver to not have to dig half a dozen graves. By the time you got through with them, it would have taken us the rest of the night to clean up the mess.”
Ayrion couldn’t argue there. After what had happened back in Woodvale, he really didn’t care for another dark glimpse into what he had been.
The little rover boy jerked out from under Ayrion’s arm and stood. “Didn’t you hear me? We need to go back!”
Tameel stopped the wagon. “Go back to what, boy? What’s wrong with you?”
The rover child began to cry. “I need to get a healer. We need help!”
“There’s no healer back that direction,” Ayrion said, trying to calm the child down. “We just came from there. Closest town is days away.”
Zynora stuck her head out the opening. “Who needs a healer?”
The boy almost jumped out of his seat and onto the horses, surprised by the voice behind him.
Clinging to Ayrion’s arm, he turned around to get a look at Zynora. “We do.”
“We? Who’s we? The rovers? Are you Nathillian?” When the little boy’s head began to bob up and down, Zynora moved back inside. “Well, get in here, child, and tell us all about it.”
Chapter 21 | Ayrion
AYRION CLIMBED INTO the back of the wagon and took a seat on an old barrel as Zynora jellied a biscuit and handed it to the boy.
“I’m Taylis,” the boy said, stuffing the biscuit in his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing it down.
“I’m Zynora, and that old codger there is my husband, Tameel, and this is Ayrion.”
Taylis sniffed and wiped his eyes, still working to regain his composure. “Thank you for saving me. Those men were going to do bad things to me and my family.”
Zynora wiped a tuft of hair from the little boy’s face. “Well, you don’t have to worry about them doing anything to you now, Taylis. You’re safe with us.” She poured him a glass of water, and he gulped it down at an alarming rate. “What were you doing out here in the middle of nowhere all by yourself? Who needs a healer?”
Taylis drained his drink and handed it to Zynora. “People took sick a couple of days back, just after we left Belvin. The folks there told us to leave.” He cocked his head. “Why are people so mean?”
Zynora placed a hand on his shoulder. “It’s because they’re ignorant. People fear what they don’t understand.”
“What happened next?” Tameel prompted.
“It started with Elder Borin, but since he’s always complaining, no one paid him much mind. At least, not until some of the others started to take ill. Pretty soon, a lot of people were feeling sick. Even Mama.”
“What are her symptoms?”
“Symptoms?”
“Why do you believe your mother is sick?”
“She says her stomach hurts real bad, and she’s always asking me for something to drink, but when she drinks it, she vomits.”
“And you say a lot of people in your group are showing the same problems?”
Taylis nodded. “That’s when Mama told me to get on ol’ Bleu and ride for a different town and try to find a healer.” The little boy paused. “Mama doesn’t usually let me ride by myself, but I’m big enough, you know.”
“I’m sure you are,” Zynora said. Ayrion noted the look of concern in her eyes.
“What do you think, wife?” Tameel asked.
“I won’t be sure unless I see them. Could be anything from a bout of food poisoning to cholera.” She looked at Taylis. “What happened next?”
“When I came to the bridge and saw those men, I tried asking them for help, but they were bad men, and they pulled me off Bleu and tried to take him. But he ran away.” Taylis stopped and looked down at his worn shoes. “Bleu was my best friend.” He wiped another run from his nose on his sleeve. “I don’t know what me and Mama will do without him.”
“It’ll be all right, son,” Tameel said, leaning forward to pat the boy on the knee. “Can you take us to your camp?”
The waning light through the front opening reflected in the boy’s wet eyes. “Yes, sir.”
“Good,” Tameel said as he stood. “We are part of the Rhivanni, which is a distant relation to the Nathillian. My wife has studied the healing arts of the Kojzu, so we might be able to help.”
Taylis’s eyes brightened. “Really? You think you can help Mama?”
“We’ll do our best,” she said as she jellied another biscuit. She handed it to Taylis and turned to Tameel. “Best we get a move on. They sound to be in a bad way.”
“Aye, wife, that they do.”
Ayrion followed Tameel out of the wagon and climbed up on the front seat.
“Which way to your camp, Master Taylis?” Tameel asked, turning to look back inside.
The little boy stuck his head out the hatch and pointed straight ahead. “That way, about half
a day’s ride.”
“Are you camped in the fields?”
“No, sir. We’re in the woods.”
Tameel grabbed the reins and spurred the horses forward. “Will you remember where when you see it?”
“Yes!” Taylis said, climbing through the hatch and planting himself between Tameel and Ayrion. “When you see a pile of painted rocks stacked by the side of road, that’s where we went into the woods.”
Night had fallen, and the road ahead was cut in shadow. The three-quarter moon left strips of the dead plains to sprawl in darkness, while others basked in the pale evening light. Silhouettes of distant clouds gave the effect of a giant moving puzzle with pieces waiting to be connected.
Ayrion pulled his cloak tight around his shoulders and pinched off the opening at the neck to hold in what little heat remained. He studied the side of the road, looking for the marker Taylis had told them was there. The young boy sat nestled between Ayrion and Tameel, his eyes glued to the distant tree line. Tameel had him looking for anything familiar.
“Hold on,” Ayrion said. “I think I see something.”
“Well, if anyone would, it’d be you,” Tameel said as he slowed the horses.
Ayrion hopped off the wagon. Behind him, Taylis shouted, “That’s them! That’s the rocks we set! I told Mama that the one on top looked like a tortoise.”
Ayrion knelt beside the pile. The rocks were painted red, blue, yellow, and green. The green one on top did indeed look like the back of a turtle shell. He climbed back up onto the front seat, and Tameel steered the old wagon off the road in the direction of the tree line.
The hatch behind them opened, and Zynora stuck her head out, allowing some of the wagon’s warmth to wash across those on the front seat. She looked at the forest ahead. “They’ll be far enough in to hide their campfires and song from anyone traveling this way.”
“Aye,” Tameel said as he gave another thwack of the reins, urging the horses a little faster. As the old wagon creaked along, bringing the distant trees closer, Ayrion caught the familiar song of a night owl. Its serenade floated on the wind like an ethereal call, beckoning them with the promise of rest from their weary travels. Ayrion yawned, unable to stop himself. It felt as though he hadn’t slept two winks since their run-in with the Black Watch in Woodvale and the revelation of his former identity.
Ayrion knew there was something different about him. He could feel it. It revealed itself in the things he could do, the way his swords moved in his hands as though they were controlling him instead of the other way around. He wanted to know more about this Guardian Protector he was supposed to have been. What kind of man was he? Had he been respected, or feared? Was he a good man, or had he used his abilities for other purposes? Did he have family or friends who were missing him? The questions ate at him.
Tameel and Zynora had seemed to think that the Guardian had been a decent man. The former king was a good man, and he wouldn’t have chosen Ayrion to be his protector otherwise. However, their knowledge was fairly limited, since tinkers tried to stay out of the affairs of others. They weren’t quite as sheltered from society as they said his people, the Upaka, were, but they tended to keep to themselves as much as possible. Tameel had done his best to describe the Upaka—who they were, where they lived, why they were shunned by most of society.
Ayrion wondered how he had managed to rise to such a high position as Guardian Protector with a stigma like that attached to him.
The wagon hit a rut, jostling Ayrion from his brooding. He looked up. The tree line ahead stretched for miles, leaving only the one narrow path—just wide enough for a single wagon—as their way to enter.
Tameel slowed the horses as they passed underneath the forest canopy. The stars vanished, and the breeze died away as the trees swallowed them whole.
The lanterns swinging from the curved hooks on the sides of the wagon weren’t enough to cut through the darkness ahead, so Ayrion slipped from his seat to guide the horses. Walking around to the front, he held out a lantern to light the way as he grabbed the harness and pulled them forward.
The ground was soft under his boots, leaving hardly a trace of sound. Everything around them was silent, but something tugged at the back of his mind, and he stopped to listen.
“Why are we stopping?” Taylis called down to him. “We’re close. I know it.” He stood, trying to see farther down the trail.
Zynora opened the front and stuck her head out, and Taylis quickly sat back down.
“Shh.” Ayrion held up his hand to signal for silence.
“Quiet, son.” Tameel put his hand on the boy’s leg to calm him.
Everyone listened. In the distance, Ayrion thought he had heard something. There it was again, faint, like the clang of metal. “Something’s wrong.”
Taylis leaped from the wagon before Tameel could stop him and made a mad dash for the trail ahead.
Ayrion grabbed him by the seat of his pants.
“No! Let me go!” Taylis kicked out, trying to free himself from Ayrion’s hold.
Ayrion covered the boy’s mouth. “Quiet.”
Tameel climbed down from the front, and Ayrion passed the boy off to him.
“Keep him here. I’ll come back and get you once I check it out. It might be nothing, but better safe than not.”
He ran to the back of the wagon and swung up onto the black warhorse.
The back door opened, and Zynora held out his black leather coat and swords.
Ayrion shook his head.
“Take them,” she said. “You can’t be too careful.”
Ayrion relented and swapped his colorful tinker coat for the long black one, then strapped on the twin sheaths. Their weight on his back released a sudden flash of memory. He was sitting atop the same horse. Soldiers in black-and-silver uniforms were fighting and dying all around him. Great beasts as tall as the stallion, with bloodred eyes, mauled their way through them. He raised his sword as one of them lunged, and as swift as it had appeared, the vision was gone.
He sucked in a breath.
“Are you all right?” Zynora asked. “What happened?”
“I just had a memory.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Ayrion frowned. “Not really.” He pulled on his black gloves and leaned forward to pat the stallion’s neck. “It appears we know each other after all, my strong friend.”
The stallion shook his mane.
“Be careful, Grey Eyes.”
Ayrion nodded and urged the large animal forward. “I’ll be back,” he said to Tameel as he rode past. Tameel was still struggling to keep Taylis under control. Even with the sporadic rays of moonlight seeping through the canopy overhead, Ayrion was careful not to give the stallion too much lead. It would be easy to hit a hole in the dark and cripple the horse.
Up ahead, the sounds grew more distinct: metal clanging, men shouting, women and children screaming. Throwing caution to the wind, he urged his horse faster.
An abrasive smell filled his nostrils, a smell he was growing all too acquainted with—sweet, metallic, and strong enough to taste. It was the choking smell of death.
Something strange was moving inside him. He could feel a heat rising. It was the same sensation he had experienced back at Woodvale just before his fight with the Black Watch and the sniffer. Reaching up as if on instinct, he slid one of the swords free from its sheath. With the other hand, he tightened his grip on the horse’s mane and leaned forward to keep his body close to the mount.
The trail ahead ended in a large clearing, the outer rim completely encircled with wagons—wagons very similar to the one he’d been riding in for the last month, every inch of them covered with bright paints. Numerous cooking fires were spread across the center of the encampment, giving Ayrion a clear view of what was happening.
The rovers were easy to spot; they were dressed in the same colorful, baggy clothing that he, Tameel, and Zynora wore. However, there were others running through the camp, carrying old swords,
axes, hammers, shovels, and whatever else they could get their hands on. Whoever these people were, they were killing everyone in sight.
Ayrion pulled his horse to a stop a few feet from the first of the wagons, and his breath caught in his throat. He was close enough to see the attackers’ faces.
They weren’t human. At least, he didn’t think they were.
Their skin was white. Not just pale from a lack of sun, but as though they’d been bleached in a vat of lye. They were half dressed, their clothing ripped to the extent that it barely covered the areas that defined their sex. And it was no wonder. Each hand ended in a set of claws. Even stranger was the lack of hair. Some had tufts still clinging to the scalp, but most were completely bald. Even their eyebrows were gone, which made the obsidian orbs that were their eyes stand out all the more.
On his right, a Nathillian mother was trying to cover a little girl with her body while two hairless, white-skinned women—at least he thought they were women—hacked her to death with a pair of butcher knives. They threw the mother’s body aside and reached for the little girl underneath.
He leaped from his mount and ran straight for them.
“Hold still!” the first said, her voice unnatural, deep, and grating, like something was talking through her.
The second seized the little girl by her shoulders and yanked her up for the first to stab. Except the first didn’t appear to want to stab the girl. Instead, she opened her mouth to sink her teeth in.
Ayrion swung. The blade cut straight through the first woman’s neck without a hint of resistance. It was like he’d hit nothing at all. Her bald head nodded forward as if in prayer, then fell off her shoulders.
The second woman turned with a shriek, black liquid streaming from either side of her mouth. She flung the child aside and let out an ear-piercing scream.
Ayrion held out his sword and watched as the woman threw herself onto it, ramming it all the way through her body just to reach him. He flinched as she managed a single cut to his arm before collapsing. He tilted the blade down, and her body slid free. Stepping over the women, he grabbed the child and placed her behind one of the wagon wheels and covered her with a tarp.
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