CHAPTER 20
Jarrett couldn’t hide his surprise when Tyla ignored the hand he offered her and climbed to her feet with Muzik’s help. Her eyes shifted away from him and appraised the Stravad commander. “Thank him for saving us,” she commanded.
Jarrett translated for her, stung by her chilling demeanor.
“Tell him we have an injured man and need to move him to shelter, so that I can assess his wound better.”
Jarrett conveyed the command. Kendrick sidled up to her and whispered something Jarrett didn’t catch. She waved him off.
“Allistar says they have an encampment just a few miles up the trail. They also have a larger outpost at the summit, but it’ll take another two days to reach it,” Jarrett translated.
“Inform him that we need a litter built in order to move Earon.”
Jarrett frowned at her. “How are they supposed to do that, Tyla? They were hunting when they heard our confrontation. They only brought hunting weapons with them.”
Tyla motioned to the mule that grazed on the edge of the trail below them. “There’s a tent in our packs. They can use some saplings and the rope we have to fashion something together. I don’t care how it’s done, I just want it done.”
Jarrett flinched at the tone of her voice. “Why can’t he ride on the mule?”
She glared at him and suddenly it hit him why she was being so cold to him. He felt like she’d belted him in the stomach. “He’s paralyzed. How is he supposed to stay on the mule’s back?”
Jarrett didn’t speak for a moment. His eyes rose to Kendrick, but he found only more contempt there. Fury replaced his bewilderment. “Fine, Your Majesty, I’ll order them to build a litter.”
“Good,” she said, then turned away, kneeling beside Earon’s oddly still body.
Jarrett shot a glare at Kendrick.
The Nazarien narrowed his eyes. “I speak Lodenian too, you know?”
Jarrett clenched his jaw. “Well then, just let me run and get you a treat,” he snapped, brushing by him and moving toward the mule.
* * *
Tyla sat in the tent, holding Earon’s hand. He was sleeping easily now, his breathing less rapid and shallow. Allistar had Stamerian and she’d given Earon a large dose, easing the pain of his wound. The Stravad had suggested a poultice of herbs she didn’t recognize. Through Jarrett, he’d explained it was a concoction they used for snakebite. He wondered if it might not draw out the Orahim poison. Tyla made the poultice under Allistar’s watchful eye and yet, Earon still couldn’t move any part of his body below the site of the injury.
Allistar assured Tyla there were skilled healers in Temeron who might be able to help. Tyla knew that she herself might be able to find a cure if she had the resources of a Temerian clinic at her disposal.
She was distracted from her thoughts by the lifting of the tent flap. Closing her eyes, she steeled herself for the confrontation that was about to come. The idea of what she must do was like a physical blow to her, crippling, and yet she knew there was no other way. Her sanity and the safety of all around her depended on her being strong enough to face her decision.
“How is he?” came Jarrett’s voice at her shoulder.
She didn’t look up, couldn’t. She released Earon’s hand and smoothed his covers. “He’s sleeping now, but he still can’t move.”
“I’ll sit with him for a while. Why don’t you go get something to eat? The Stravad have prepared dinner.”
Tyla waited a moment longer, then rose reluctantly. Turning to the doorway, she avoided looking at Jarrett. She knew what she needed to do, but now that the moment was here, she just couldn’t find the will to do it. She made it to the center of the tent before he stopped her.
“Tyla?”
She stumbled to a halt and closed her eyes again, biting her lip. She could feel the tension snake up her spine and slide across her shoulders. The heat of his body radiated at her back. Misery pressed up inside her throat, making it ache.
“I’ve been wrong twice today,” he said softly.
She didn’t turn, couldn’t turn. If she looked at him, she’d never be able to say what she had to say.
“I was wrong about leaving Earon. I’m sorry he was hurt. And I was wrong…” His voice trailed away. He cleared it and reached out, touching her arm. “I was wrong when I asked you to kill Lex Prestar.”
She drew away from his touch. That was something else she couldn’t bear. She could feel the confused flutter of his thoughts against her own, but she shoved them aside.
“Tyla, I was wrong. I had no right to ask you to do that. It was a horrible thing…”
She couldn’t hear anymore, she couldn’t listen to his misguided apology, so she bolted for the tent flap, ducking outside. The cold of the winter air hit her and she realized she’d left her parka by Earon’s bed. Snow crunched under her foot and she stumbled to a halt in the darkness, looking over to where bodies moved through the fire’s light. Glancing back the other way, she saw a shadow glide past, a Stravad on patrol around the perimeter of the camp.
Jarrett stepped out behind her. “Tyla?”
She turned to face him, staring up at his face, the fire’s light flickering over his features.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you to do something like that, but I didn’t think there was any other choice. I know it was wrong, but the odds were too steep against us. I didn’t see any other way out. I know what you must think, what you must feel about that. It was an unforgivable thing to do, but I was only trying to save us.”
“That’s not what’s wrong,” she said, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “You’re right. It was the only way. None of us knew the Stravad were there, not even me. We were too caught up in the battle. There was no other way out of it.”
He gave her a bewildered look. “I don’t understand…”
“I know you don’t,” she said, her expression softening. She sighed heavily. “Jarrett, you’ve brought me to my kinsmen. You’ve completed your part of the journey. Now I want you to go home.” Curling her arms around her middle, she forced herself to meet his agonized gaze.
“What?” He looked hurt and confused. Again he tried to communicate with her through his thoughts, but she blocked them. “How could you ask that? After what we’ve been through, how could you send me away like this?”
She couldn’t stand the bewilderment she heard in his voice, the pain in his eyes. She reached up and caught him behind the head, pulling him down to her. Then she kissed him, slanting her mouth across his, pouring all of her emotions into the gesture. He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her in against him and Tyla felt herself splintering inside. It felt right to be in his arms, to be held close by him. She gentled the kiss and gradually pulled back, still within the circle of his arms.
“I don’t have any other choice, Jarrett. Can’t you see? Don’t you understand?”
“No, I don’t. How can I?”
“I would have killed Lex Prestar today if I’d had just a moment more. I would have killed him and not thought about it a moment after, but I wouldn’t have done it for the reasons you think. I wouldn’t have done it to save Muzik or Kendrick, or even myself. I would have done it to save you. Only you.”
He frowned.
She pushed away from him. “More than anyone, more than Rarick of Sarkisian even, you have the power to make me a monster. I would do anything to protect you. Anything, even kill.” With that, she turned away from him and walked through the snow drifts toward the Stravad fire in the distance.
* * *
Jarrett leaned against a boulder and watched the gathering in the middle of what had been their campsite. The tents were down, the fire out, and the gear repacked and ready for travel. The one remaining mule was tethered to a branch close by and her bags were full.
Tyla and company were facing the band of grim faced Stravad. Earon was back on his stretcher and lounging to the side. Kendrick was trying to communicate with the Str
avad, and despite his miserable mood, Jarrett was finding the whole scene highly amusing.
He couldn’t hear what Kendrick was saying, but the expression on Allistar’s face spoke volumes. Occasionally, the Stravad commander would glance over at Jarrett and frown in confusion. Jarrett simply shrugged and continued to watch.
He wasn’t sure what he was going to do. Tyla had ordered him home last night, but he had no intention of obeying her. He’d promised her uncles that he would see her safely to Temeron. Depositing her in the hands of her kinsmen hardly qualified. Some part of him knew he was being stubborn, but he didn’t care. He loved Tyla and he wasn’t giving up that easily. Her feelings for him only solidified that commitment. There was no way he was bowing out and giving Kendrick a clear field.
“Hold on,” Tyla said in frustration. “How many days did he say it was to the outpost?”
Kendrick turned to face her, his body language pained. “Two…maybe three.”
“Which is it?” she demanded, her hands on her hips. “What exactly did he say? I want his exact words.”
Kendrick’s face crumpled. “Exact words?”
Tyla nodded.
With a grimace, Kendrick answered. “He said two or three days to the land of small trees.”
Tyla gave Kendrick a piercing look. “The land of small trees?”
Jarrett struggled to hide his smile when Kendrick nodded.
“I thought you said you could speak Lodenian?”
“I can,” protested Kendrick, “it’s just…”
“Just what?” interjected Muzik.
“I read it better than speak it. It’s been a long time since I’ve used it.”
“What does that mean? It’s been a long time since you’ve spoken it or read it?” asked Tyla.
“Both,” said Kendrick.
Tyla closed her eyes and exhaled. Muzik paced away. Earon broke into a peel of laughter.
“I just need some practice.”
Opening her eyes again, Tyla glanced over her shoulder at Jarrett. He could see how much she didn’t want to ask him for help. Turning back around, she tried to moderate her tone. “We don’t have that much time. I need someone who can communicate with them now. I could read their minds, but I don’t think they’d like that much, do you?”
Kendrick bowed his head.
Tyla glanced at Jarrett again, clearly torn. He decided to spare her anymore pain; besides humiliating Kendrick was just so much fun. Pushing away from the boulder, he moved toward the group.
“Guess you won’t be going home,” muttered Earon.
“Thought you were asleep last night?” growled Jarrett, giving his litter a bump with his foot.
“And miss the drama, never.”
Jarrett deliberately pushed between Tyla and Kendrick. “Land of small trees?” he said, then smiled at Allistar.
The Stravad looked relieved. “Hello, Jarrett.”
“Hey, Allistar.” He shot a look at the Nazarien. “What exactly did he say to you?”
Allistar shook his head in amusement. “Something about wanting to know when the crimson orb would dance across the radiant sky. Bloody Nazarien!”
Jarrett laughed. “He’d prefer it if you’d write it for him.”
Allistar gave Kendrick a sidelong look. “Ah,” was all he said.
“Her Majesty would like to know how far to the outpost.”
Allistar’s amusement shifted to Jarrett. “Two days if we push hard.”
Jarrett nodded. “I’ll convey the message. Anything else?”
“I’d like to leave as soon as possible. We haven’t noticed any sign of your pursuers, but they had more numbers than we did, and I hate to tangle with Orahim in particular.”
Jarrett’s expression sobered. “You have much dealings with them?”
“More now than we used to, but that might be because we’ve been stationed in the Groziks for the last few months.”
“Why?” asked Jarrett, although he thought he knew.
“The Lord of Loden asked us to patrol the passes. There are bands of Stravad at all the passes from the coast to the Madronic range. We figured you’d have to come one of these ways eventually.”
Jarrett nodded. “I’m sure glad you were there yesterday.”
“So am I.” He gave Jarrett a level look. “You are coming with us the rest of the way, right?”
Jarrett glanced at Tyla. “Of course I am. You think I’d leave you to communicate with a bloody Nazarien.”
“Eldon’s star, I hope not,” answered Allistar seriously.
***
Kalas tried not to fidget as he stood next to Rarick’s throne. The king of Sarkisian lounged in the seat, both long legs stretched out before him and his hands crossed over his stomach. Kalas had been standing beside the throne in Tarnow’s audience chamber for the last two hours. His lower back ached and his legs were cramping, but he knew better than to ask for a seat.
His gaze traced the line of empty seats around the periphery of the room. The council had been disbanded. Rarick trusted none of the council members, branding them conspirators of Tarnow’s. Kalas thought he probably wasn’t far off the mark. The people in Adishian were not happy with the change in leadership. He didn’t dare venture into the city himself without a heavy contingent of soldiers.
He shifted weight and curled one hand over the hilt of his sword, trying to angle it into a more comfortable position. He felt Rarick’s eyes pass over him, then return to inspecting his yellow nails.
“Soon this will be yours,” said the King, curling his fingers over the arms of the throne. He rubbed his palms along the shiny, dark wood.
Kalas’ enthusiasm for that role had dimmed when his sister went missing. A knot had formed in his stomach since that day. He’d never been much for praying, but he’d been praying for weeks now.
“Are you ready for this command?” asked Rarick.
Kalas kept his eyes on the guards at the door. “You’ve trained me well, Father,” was all he said.
Rarick made a noise in his throat, then folded his hands on his belly. Kalas wanted to ask why they were standing here, but he also knew better than to voice the question. Silence stretched away between them. Kalas found himself distracted by watching the absolute lack of animation in the two guards. How they could lock their knees and completely wipe their faces of expression amazed him.
“I got a message last night from Sarkisian,” said Rarick, his voice echoing in the empty room.
Kalas flinched despite his resolve to not show emotion. He didn’t have the control of the guards. “I trust everything is well?”
“Everything is not well. A growing band of refugees have taken up residence outside the city’s wall. Some have come from within the city, evicted by landlords, but others have come from Adishian.”
Kalas couldn’t help but frown. Adishian? That seemed unlikely. Adishian was a much more temperate climate than Sarkisian. They were even able to grow some crops here. Still, he kept this thought to himself, hiding away the secret hope that had bloomed at Rarick’s words.
Rarick rubbed his hands along the arms of the throne again. “I will have to leave Adishian in your command for a while, until I can look into this problem myself.” He sighed and his fingers curled around the end, tightening until his knuckles turned white. “Besides, I have a great longing to see Stronghold again.”
Kalas knew what Rarick would never admit. He feared being away from Stronghold. He feared the hate he generated wherever he went. It wasn’t enough to have men guard his sleeping chambers, it wasn’t enough to hide in this drafty, empty audience chamber. He needed the rise of Stronghold’s black walls around him.
He wanted to savor the elation that surged through him, but the audience chamber doors opened and a page sidled through. He bowed low before Rarick. Beyond him, Kalas could see the outer hall and caught a glimpse of Lex Prestar pacing back and forth. He felt a rise of bile tickle his throat. He tried to search for signs of his sister, but he
could see very little beyond the doors.
“Speak, boy,” commanded Rarick. His hands were still clawed around the throne arms and his voice rang like a whip’s crack.
“Lex Prestar requests an audience, Your Majesty,” said the boy, his voice breaking.
Rarick snarled. Kalas was shocked by the gesture. Lex Prestar was one of his most trusted servants. Perhaps that meant…
“Send him in,” said Rarick, punctuating each word. He knew something, Kalas was sure. The message about Sarkisian wasn’t the only one he’d received last night. A bud of hope rose inside Kalas’ chest.
The page rose from his bow, executed an abrupt about-face, and walked from the room. He’d scarcely made it to the doors before Lex Prestar pushed his way through. He hurried to the middle of the floor, at the foot of Rarick’s dais, and threw himself down, prostrating himself before his king.
“Your Majesty,” he said, his voice muffled by the floor.
Rarick slid upright in the throne, sitting so his back was ramrod straight. “Report to me, Lex. Why are you here?”
Lex lifted his head enough to speak, but he would not meet Rarick’s eye. The bud of hope spread its petals wide inside Kalas and he had to fight to hide a smile. “We were overtaken, Your Majesty.”
“The Queen?”
Lex chanced a glance up, then dropped it again. “We were overtaken,” he repeated. “In the Groziks. They came out of nowhere. Killed three quarters of my men. It happened in moments. I barely escaped with my life.”
“How were you overtaken? Your last message said you had tracked them into Kazden and had shut the city down. How did they make it into the Groziks?”
“They left by boat.”
Kalas couldn’t help the smile that touched the corners of his mouth.
“Boat? You didn’t secure the docks?”
“I never thought they’d be able to leave that way. They’ve had help at every juncture. Here in Adishian, in Kazden, and then on the mountain…” His voice trailed away and he dropped his head to his chest. He looked ragged and dirty, his uniform rent in many places. Kalas had never seen him looking so disheveled.
The World of Samar Box Set 3 Page 33