by S. M. Boyce
Bleached rays of the dry world above refracted against the distant surface, too far away. Kara clung to the monster’s neck, pinned, and Braeden shielded her from the rush of water as best he could. Her eyes creased from the strain of keeping them closed, and her mouth moved, as if she was whispering. Bubbles rushed sidelong from her lips. He reached a hand over her mouth to preserve what oxygen she had, but as he touched her cheek, he thudded against dry land.
He threw himself on his forearms and heaved. Water spewed from his mouth and ears, splashing on the grass. His vision blurred from the lingering saltwater, but there was definitely dirt and solid ground beneath him. He curled his hands along the earth, relishing the dry tickle of the dead leaves crunching beneath his fingers. Kara retched nearby.
His eyes stung from the salt, and he blinked until he could see. His hands were smaller and olive again. He cursed under his breath—he’d retreated to his Hillsidian form without realizing it. That was a careless mistake to make. His only hope was that it had happened when he was too far away for the Lossians to see.
He looked around, trying to figure out where they were. Thick rows of trees spanned every which way and blocked out the sky with their leaves. There was no water in sight; he didn’t even hear a creek gurgle, but he couldn’t hear much of anything through the hollow echo of the water lodged in his eardrums. He rubbed more water from his eyes and did his best to flush it from his ears.
The black three-legged dragon sat in front of him, its wings tucked at its side like a giant, scab-covered dog waiting for a treat. It grinned again as he looked up. A sunbeam broke through the treetops and glinted off its teeth.
At the sunny touch, the dragon broke into a cloud of black ash. There was no wind, so it settled on the thick air, shimmering in the light. The trees eventually sighed in a soft breeze that carried the remnants of the monster away.
“Summoned him,” Kara said. “Apparently, the Grimoire has a pet store.”
She was curled over her stomach, still coughing up water. Her hair clung to her cheeks and she had a green tint to her face, but she smiled at him.
“How did we get here?” he asked. “We weren’t even close to the water’s surface.”
He knelt over her and lifted her neck so that she could better force the water from her lungs. She shifted her satchel over her back, but more water poured from it onto her already drenched clothes.
“I’m not sure. I got really dizzy there at the end, and I heard the Vagabond whisper something in my ear. I just repeated what he said over and over, knowing that it had to be a way out of that mess. Do you think it teleported us?”
“I have no idea what else could have happened. Do you remember what he told you?”
“No. I was panicking. He’s never done that before.” She shook her head and looked over to him, but started giggling.
“What?”
“I’m sorry, Braeden, but you look ridiculous.”
“Oh. Well, thank you.” He feigned a sarcastic curtsey.
His Lossian clothes clung to his body, constricting his chest and stomach, but the fabric was too long for his arms and slid back over his hands and feet every time he pulled it back.
He rubbed his neck with both hands and in a single, hot wave of air, he was dry. He repeated the technique on Kara so that she was comfortable and then ripped the too-long sleeves and pants until they fit with at least some comfort. He didn’t have his pack anymore, so he couldn’t change. He was just lucky that Frine hadn’t found the Lossian and Kirelm keys he’d hidden in a secret pocket of his shirt. That would’ve been a disaster.
Something hummed. He glanced over to see the heavy Grimoire resting in Kara’s hands and shook his head. The stupid book was more trouble than it was worth.
“Griffin, old buddy,” she said to the open pages. “Get us out of here.”
It took a few hours for the chill of their close call to fade away. Braeden wanted nothing more than to be in Hillside again, but after a few hours of flying, Kara insisted that she needed a break. The griffin descended into the forest and knelt for them to dismount.
They landed in a small clearing and walked to its edge to stay out of sight. Braeden scanned the woods with short twists of his head, ready for another fight and unable to relax.
Kara touched his arm, frowning. He flinched and forced himself to take a deep breath.
“I think we can calm down a bit, Braeden.”
“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “That’s two out of five kingdoms that tried to kidnap you, Kara. And they had spikes—” His voice shook.
“We’re safe.” She forced a smile, but it fell short. Her eyes didn’t wrinkle with relief like they should have.
“You don’t believe that.”
“No, not really. I was just trying to make you feel better.”
“Don’t console me. I’m supposed to be the one protecting you. We can take a break, but we need to leave soon.”
She didn’t answer, just sat on a log and opened her satchel. The two blue map pieces fell from the bag into her lap. They pressed into her skin, pinning her clothes against her legs as she slid the fourth piece into the empty corner.
A brilliant white light blazed along the map’s edges, shattering the clearing with a blinding flare. Braeden squinted and shielded his eyes as the air buzzed. The glare sputtered and faded away, and when he could see again, flecks of gold glittered in the air above the map.
If it really was a map, it was unlike any he’d ever seen. There were no landmarks or directions on it, and its primary décor was a large oval indent that consumed most of the stone. Small carved flowers and tangled vines framed the map in a thick border, and in its center was a small carving the exact size and shape of the clover pendant. Aside from those few details, it was just a polished square slab of lapis lazuli.
Kara took off the clover necklace, and her fingers brushed the golden locket around her neck as she did. He noticed that she paused, hand shaking, and took a deep breath before she shoved the clover into the map until the cartilage in her thumb joints cracked. The pendant shifted beneath her hands, and there was a click as it snapped into place.
A ripple of air radiated from the space beneath her thumbs. The blue stone bent and stretched like the disturbed surface of a pond, and its golden flecks blazed with their own light, shining brighter until their glow engulfed the blue stone completely.
“Is it supposed to do that?” he asked.
“I think so. Come over here. It looks like it’s drawing something.”
A thin black line appeared on the now-golden map, moving as if drawn by an invisible pen. It sloped and curved, first drawing the crude slope of a mountain. A forest appeared beneath the summit and a stream appeared below that. A lichgate drew itself by the river, its roof sloping to a sharp point against the mountainside. A jagged line broke through the center of the mountain.
Braeden’s heart skipped a beat. He groaned, rubbing his eyes out of frustration. He knew that mountain, and it was in the last place on Earth he wanted to go.
“Where—?” Kara asked.
“It’s a mountain near the Stele,” he answered. “It has to be, because I’ve never seen another mountain range with a crack like that.”
“Awesome.” Kara rolled her eyes. He guessed she was hardly eager to return, either.
The map drew more scenes in an ever-moving stream of black ink, sketching and then shifting away from what it had just drawn. The image revolved, zooming into the crack until it opened out onto a tunnel. Rocks fell from the walls, caving in and blocking the way ahead. The view turned sharply to the left and followed another tunnel until it spun and stopped at a door.
The Stele’s coat of arms adorned the stone entryway, its thorn-covered vines twisted into a crude square. Silver daggers broke the shape in each of the symbol’s four corners.
The door in the drawing opened as the sketch paused before it. At the far end of a shallow room was a pedestal that held a large oval
amulet. It was set in silver, and the eight prongs that kept the stone in its setting dug into its large black jewel with sharp tips that bent like claws. Its silver chain dangled over the back of the pillar, swinging in the otherwise still room.
“No,” Braeden said, seething.
“What is that thing?”
“That’s supposed to be lost forever, not hidden in the Stele! I won’t go back. I can’t.” He stood and paced the clearing, resting his hands on his head.
“Why would the first Vagabond want us to get some trinket?”
She stared at the map, the creases in her forehead illuminated by its glow as it replayed everything. The sketch was already zooming through the cracked mountain again, moving toward the sunken tunnel.
“I don’t know. According to legend, it shows you where you belong,” he answered.
Her eyes snapped into focus as it all clicked for her. Her shoulders drooped, and Braeden paused long enough to understand why she’d been asked to find it. If she was truly worthy of being the Vagabond, the amulet would show her the way to the village. Otherwise, the abandoned village would stay hidden.
“You don’t have to come with me,” she said. “I know that it’s hard for you to be near Carden, or the Stele—”
“No, it’s not hard, Kara. If he ordered me to stop breathing, my lungs would obey him and stop working. Hard is climbing a steep trail. Resisting a direct command from my Blood when he’s near me is impossible.”
“Sometimes impossible just means you have to try harder,” she said, eyes locked with his. Her gaze challenged his lifetime of slavery to his father.
“You can’t understand it, so don’t judge me! You’ll never have to endure such a thing!”
“I’m not judging you. But I did lose both my parents in the same year, so I think I know a thing or two about how difficult life can be.”
“I know you haven’t had an easy time here, but this is worse than losing someone you love. This is losing control over yourself.”
“Like I said, you don’t have to come with me.”
“I would be a sorry bodyguard if I didn’t.”
“Well you’re not much use if you suffocate yourself.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“Sorry.”
“I have a compromise,” he said, sitting beside her with a sigh. “How about this—we go back to Hillside for now. Rest. Relax. We figure out what to do about Losse and only then do we go find the amulet.”
“Oh man, Losse. What a disaster.” She slid down the log and laid her head against it like it was a lumpy pillow.
A short laugh emanated from the clearing to Braeden’s right.
“Can the two of you go anywhere without causing trouble?”
Braeden spun and instinctively reached for his sword—which was still in his room in Losse—but relaxed when he saw Adele standing in the grass with one hand on her hip.
“It’s always an epic chase with you two,” she said. The muse teased the pendant on her neck as evidence that something had gone wrong.
“It’s good to see you, too, Adele,” Kara said.
“What happened in Losse?” The muse sat on the log. Braeden crossed his arms and leaned against a tree, watching from a short distance.
“They weren’t very agreeable.”
“What an overpowering understatement,” he said. “They tried to kidnap you!”
“And kill you,” she added. “Regardless, Losse isn’t interested now, and Kirelm would consider the peace talks only if Frine was involved.” She glared off into the forest. “I’m starting to wonder if there’s anything in Ourea worth saving.”
“As long as there’s evil, there will be good,” Adele said. “You must watch for it and allow it to surprise you. For as many people that hunted the first Vagabond, there were just as many who fed him, hid him, and sent him safely on his way. These people defended the helpless and would have stood before a rising army to protect a stranger. They were true heroes. Don’t lose your faith in life or the world. Millions already look to you for hope when they have none. You’re one of those heroes, to them, so you must be strong.”
Kara slouched against the log, looking off into the grass. Her eyes shifted out of focus. Streaks of grime covered her face, and there were deep purple bags beneath her eyes. Her eyelids drooped. Still, somehow, the sun made her skin glow beneath the dirt.
“I failed,” she said.
“Not quite,” Adele answered. “The Lossian Bloods have trusted Garrett for generations, as they are some of the few who openly speak with drenowith. We’d hoped we would not need to interfere, but we suspected what happened when we sensed you were in danger. He has gone to speak with their Blood to help him find reason.”
“Why didn’t he do this before?” Braeden asked. “Why make us go there in the first place?”
“The more we interfere, the more likely it is that the Council which forbade us from helping the Vagabond will kill us for treason,” Adele snapped. “You must understand, then, why this wasn’t our first course of action.”
She had a point. Braeden huffed and leaned against the tree, avoiding her gaze.
“Will it work?” Kara asked. “Will Losse agree?”
“I believe so,” the muse said.
Kara sighed with relief and leaned against the log, staring into the sky with a thin smile. Even Braeden’s shoulders relaxed at the news. He hadn’t trained with Kara, having not been allowed near her masters, but he’d watched to make sure she was safe and cringed every time she was thrown to the ground in combat. She hadn’t learned, there. She had suffered. It was no way to train a new warrior.
He looked her over. She made him ashamed to think he was tired.
“I really want a bed right now,” she said.
“You’re only a few hours from Hillside.” Adele brushed back a tangled lock of Kara’s hair. “I’ll go with you to the gates to make sure you arrive safely. We should leave now, while there’s still a little light left in the day.”
Braeden was closer to the griffin, so he mounted and reached out a hand to help Kara. She took it, wrapping her small hand around his wrist. A thrilling chill ran through him at her touch. He smiled despite himself.
“I’m going to sleep for days when we get home,” she whispered to him once she mounted. She wrapped her arms around his waist for balance. His heart skipped a beat and for a moment, he couldn’t swallow.
“Hillside is your home now, huh?” he joked when his breath returned.
Kara laughed, but didn’t answer.
He turned toward Adele, expecting a snide comment, but the muse had already transformed into a griffin. Gleaming white feathers spiked along her neck, and pale beige fur covered her torso and legs, which ended in the sharp claws of a lioness. She preened, cocking her head when she caught his surprise.
Kara’s griffin shuffled toward Adele. It curled its head and sidestepped, inching closer to her. Braeden nudged it with his heel, urging it away from the muse.
“Stop that,” he muttered. “She’s taken.”
Kara laughed as the griffin batted Braeden’s leg with its tail in revenge. It trotted forward, took a bounding leap, and they took off for Hillside.
Braeden was looking forward to his bed, but he knew that he couldn’t walk into Hillside with Kara. He couldn’t keep her safe if all of Hillside knew he was her bodyguard, and he would be interrogated if anyone discovered that he’d somehow gone with her. He would sleep in the woods tonight and enter the kingdom through another gate in the morning. Even then, he wouldn’t be allowed to go straight to bed if Gavin had his way. The Blood would want a report on the isen raid. And since Gavin always got his way, Braeden needed to speak to Adele to find out how it had gone.
Purpose
Just a few hours after Adele found them in the forest, Kara rode her griffin along a misty trail near Hillside. She was alone and not entirely sure if she was going the right way. Thick fog hung in the woods, blurring the path the muse told
her to take before she’d shifted into a small bird of some sort and flown off. Adele the sparrow or nightingale or whatever was watching from the trees, small and overlooked.
Braeden had ruffled Kara’s hair before he walked off to find his hidden drowng, whom he said was getting fat waiting for him in some remote meadow. She grinned at the memory, but the smile dissolved when she remembered that he’d be out in the unprotected forests overnight. She hoped he would be safe.
“Hello again, Vagabond!”
She wheeled around in her seat, trying to find the source of the voice. Captain Demnug stood behind her, half-submerged in the thick layers of fog. He bowed as she sighed with relief. The haze coursed around him, swirling through his beard and half-hiding him in the mist.