by Kara Jaynes
Several minutes later I crouched in the foliage just outside of camp, a small bundle of provisions slung over my back. I slithered through the grass, heading south. My father and the chief had both forbidden me to go with Aaric; I hadn’t even been allowed to say goodbye.
I’d eavesdropped on Bran and his father the day Aaric left. Bran wouldn't tell me what direction Aaric had gone, but he had been forthcoming in telling his father. Oisin would be happy, of course, to get a sky jewel, but neither of them really expected Aaric to return. They assumed he would either go home, or perish in his quest.
I gritted my teeth in anger at the memory as I crossed a small trail. There were hoof prints in the soft dirt. Two horses, from the look of it. I silently thanked my father for teaching me tracking as I followed the trail.
It wasn't long before I found myself on a large, hard-packed dirt road. North led to Aaric's city, south led to Sen Altare and a few other cities. I had only been to Sen Altare once, when I was a child. The hoof prints led that way, so I followed on foot. I had to hurry. I was without a horse, and once my father realized I was gone . . . I pushed the thought from my head and focused on the trail, moving at a light jog. I focused on my breathing, preparing myself for a long run. The moon was bright and I still had several hours before dawn. I had a few days of travel ahead of me, more if Aaric had pushed his horse hard. I could only hope to find him before some fool man from the clan caught me and tried to haul me back. I growled with irritation and scanned the woods off to either side. Perhaps I could find a nearby farm that’d be willing to lend me a horse. I laughed at the thought. There wasn't a farmer alive who would trust a nomad.
I took a deep breath of the cold, spring air and lengthened my stride. One thing I was sure of, I thought as I scanned the ground: I would find Aaric.
7
Aaric
It was dawn. Five days had passed since Aaric left the nomads. He was starting to worry about food. The rovers had given him some provisions, but they were scanty. He didn't know how to hunt and had yet to find a village. Seated off the side of the road, he rested his horse while he gnawed on some bread. The stuff was terrible; he didn't understand how anyone could call it food. It was dark brown, grainy and hard. It took several swigs of water to get it down.
He glanced over at the horse. The beast calmly chomped on the grass that grew to Aaric's knees. He grimaced. The grass looked better than the bread. He peered up the road. Surely a village could be found, soon, he hoped. He could do with a proper meal. And some coffee, maybe, he thought wistfully.
The horse lifted its head, ears twitching. In a moment Aaric heard it too, the faint sound of hooves. Aaric stood and, taking his horse's reins, edged further off the road. Still in the woods, he had seated himself at a bend in the road. The area had looked as good a place as any for taking a short rest, but now he realized it wasn't a wise choice if he wanted to see fellow travelers before they saw him. He’d only seen a farmer or two since he left the nomad camp, but didn't want to chance running into a brigand, or worse, someone from the city. He pulled his cap low and turned the collar of his coat up.
The rider came around the bend. The horse was a shaggy, small brown creature with thick, short legs and a matted coat. The rider was a woman. She saw him off the road and reined the horse to a halt. Aaric felt his breath catch.
“I was beginning to wonder if I was following the wrong trail.” Adaryn said as she pulled her hood back. Her hair was even messier than usual and her eyes had dark circles under them.
Aaric stepped out into the road. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, unable to contain his shock. “You're supposed to be with your family.” He narrowed his eyes as he took in her dust covered clothes and tired face. “Does this mean I have a tribe of angry men on my trail?”
Adaryn shrugged. “Probably.”
Aaric sighed and swung onto his riding horse, urging it onto the road. “Guess we better get a move on, then.”
“You're not going to try and make me go back?” Adaryn sounded surprised.
“Would it convince you to stay behind?”
Adaryn grinned. “Not really, no.”
They started down the road together, their horses walking at a brisk pace. Adaryn gave a brief account of her escape, starting with slipping past the nomad sentinels and her silent departure from the camp.
Something didn't add up. Aaric frowned. “If you escaped on foot, where did you get the horse?”
Adaryn flushed, biting her lip. Aaric's eyes widened.
“Adaryn . . . please tell me you didn't steal a horse.”
The woman at least looked abashed, but she stuck her chin out stubbornly. “I didn't steal it. I borrowed it.” She squirmed under Aaric's flat stare. “I plan to return it,” she said, looking away.
“You know, this is a perfect example of why people don't trust rovers.”
Adaryn turned her fiery glare onto him. “I didn't steal it!” she exclaimed fiercely. “I really plan to return it. Later.”
“And does the owner of the horse know that? Did he agree to let you borrow it?” Adaryn's gaze slid away from him, confirming what he already guessed. Aaric sighed, lifting his gaze heavenward.
“We'll return it when we come back,” Adaryn insisted. “And pay them for their troubles.”
“I don't suppose we have much choice,” Aaric grumbled, ignoring the triumphant grin she shot him. She held his heart, but she was still quite uncivilized.
They traveled in quiet, comfortable silence for the next several hours, broken only by the trill of birdsong and the clop of horse hooves on the road. The forest gradually gave way to rolling countryside.
There still weren't any villages that they could see, but farmsteads and plowed fields became an increasingly common sight.
“So, what is your plan?” Adaryn asked.
“I plan to go to Sen Altare. My father knew some scholars who assisted him in several of his research projects. My hope is they can help me.”
“What makes you think they can?” Adaryn asked. She stifled a yawn. It was late afternoon. The young woman needed sleep, but Aaric wanted to keep moving until twilight in the event they were being pursued.
“I don't know for sure that they can,” he answered, “but I hope. Maybe they can give me a lead.”
Adaryn halted, sitting stiffly. Her head whipped up in alarm, eyes wide, nostrils flared. She cocked her head slightly as if listening. She reminded Aaric of a startled animal. He reined his horse to a stop and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but was silenced when she put out a hand for quiet.
A moment later, he heard it too, the quick clip of a horse's hooves behind them. Both of them turned to look, and saw a lone rider behind them. He or she was too far away for Aaric to see very well. Adaryn's eyes were sharper though, and she growled.
“Bran,” she spat. She turned to face the road again south, and urged her horse to a brisk trot, her back rigid, and her jaw set. Aaric followed after a moment.
“We can try to outrun him,” he said somewhat doubtfully. He eyed Adaryn's horse. He wasn't sure the thing could run.
Adaryn snorted. “This dumpy animal, run? Bran will be riding Star. There's no horse in our clan that can outrun him.”
Bran and Star were upon them in minutes. Aaric drew close to Adaryn. He wasn't sure what Bran would do, but he'd be ready.
8
Adaryn
Of course it'd be Bran who came. I stared at the road, trying to control the wave of anger that washed over me as Bran reined his horse to walk alongside of us. Star was a black stallion with a white mark on his forehead, the reason for his name.
“Why are you here?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“I've come to take you home,” was his simple reply.
“Well, you've wasted your time!” I snapped. I turned to glare at him. He stared unabashedly back, his gaze unwavering.
“My father didn't think you would try a stunt like this,” Bran said, “but I k
new better. I know you better.”
“You don't know me very well if you think I'm going back.”
Aaric didn't say a word, but kept his horse between Bran and me. I knew he was trying to protect me, but it was getting irritating. “Do you mind?” I asked him, a little more sharply than I intended. “It's hard to have a conversation with you between us.” He looked at me, startled and perhaps a little hurt. “Please,” I added.
He hesitated a moment before nodding and reining back to bring up the rear, silently shadowing us.
“Where did you get the pony?” Bran asked. His eyes sparkled with amusement.
“Don't try and distract me,” I barked. “I've told you I'm not going back. Not until Aaric does, anyway, so you can turn around and leave now.”
Bran shrugged. “I also figured I wouldn't be able to change your mind. Your choice, but I'm coming.”
“No.” Aaric and I spoke at the same time.
The chieftain’s son's eyes hardened and I stifled a sigh. I knew that look. I also knew I'd have an easier time lifting a mountain than getting the man to change his mind.
Bran spoke. “You caused quite the uproar when your father discovered you missing. He, along with several other men, were going to come to bring you back and kill the Oppressor. I was able to convince your father and the chief that it'd be better if I came instead to make sure you were brought home safe—” he glanced at Aaric, “—and that the Oppressor kept his word.”
“He has a name, Bran,” I said. I felt chilled, thinking of the disaster I had almost brought upon Aaric.
“At any rate, you see that you don't really have a choice in the matter.” Bran scanned the road and rolling hillsides. He was often set as sentry in the camp; the action had become habit. “Either I come with you or he’s hunted down.”
I threw my hands up. “Whatever. Just don't get in our way.” I reined my horse back to be with Aaric, sending a clear signal to Bran that I was done talking to him.
Aaric nudged his horse closer to me and spoke, his voice lowered so Bran couldn't overhear us. “I don't think Bran coming with us is a good idea.” He peered worriedly at the tall figure riding in front of us. “He might try to sabotage our mission.”
I sighed, upset with the situation. I liked Bran, I really did, but I suspected that his prejudice and stubbornness might get in the way. “Let it go for now,” I said, just as quietly. “I know Bran, and insisting he leave will only make him dig his heels in more. He's as stubborn as they come.” Here I glanced sideways at Aaric, smiling. “That could be said for all men, probably.”
Aaric's eyes narrowed and he jutted his jaw out in the manner I knew so well. I laughed.
“And who knows?” I went on. “He's a good fighter and has a way with magic that few possess. He might come in handy.”
Aaric nodded grudgingly. “I suppose he might, at that.” He peered at the hills ahead. “I've never been to the south, myself. I don't know what it's like, aside from what I've read.”
That hardly surprised me. I was willing to wager that most of Aaric's life had been spent with his nose in a book. “I've been down there a few times,” I said. “Our clan travels down there every few years, though it's been a long time. I was maybe, twelve the last time I went.”
“That is a long time,” Aaric said seriously, but his eyes twinkled and he laughed when I tried to smack him.
We talked awhile, ignoring Bran. I could tell it bothered him as he ignored me as well. Bran never ignored me unless he was upset. I knew I should probably feel bad but I was still irritated by his meddling.
We traveled this way until an hour or so before dusk. Bran found a hollow in one of the hills and declared we would sleep there for the night. Aaric and I exchanged looks, but didn't disagree. It seemed as good a spot as any. Bran had the foresight to pack more food than I had, and with it I was able to make a thin stew to go with our bread.
We ate in silence, wrapped in our own, private thoughts. The evening passed quietly. Rolling into my blankets that night, I thought about Aaric's quest with worry. Sky jewels were so rare they were often said to be legend. That Oisin claimed to have seen one surprised me, unless he had been lying to get Aaric away. No, he would have told Bran. I frowned, snuggling deeper under the blankets. I'd find a way to help Aaric, I told myself. One way or another.
9
Adaryn
“So . . . you and Aaric, huh?” Bran and I were the only two up. It was dawn, the sun just barely lighting the horizon. Aaric was still wrapped up in his blanket, breathing the slow, deep breath of sleep.
As I prepared the small cook fire for breakfast, Bran crouched next to the fire pit, watching me.
“Yes,” I said guardedly. “Aaric and I.”
Bran frowned, looking down. He absentmindedly rolled a small twig between his fingers. “You're in love with the man who enslaved you. Your captor.” His voice was expressionless, but his fingers tightened convulsively, breaking the twig. “That's not . . . normal.”
I chuckled dryly. “Normal is overrated.”
“I'm serious Adaryn.” Bran fixed me with a dark stare. “I want to know why you love him, because that's messed up.”
“That's none of your business,” I snapped, glaring at him. “I've already told you he didn't hurt me or do anything wrong, aside from capturing me.” I looked over at the sleeping figure, love welling in my breast at the sight of Aaric. “He's different from the other Oppressors, Bran. Different from everyone, really.”
“Thank heaven for that,” Bran grumbled and I rolled my eyes.
“You'll see. Don't judge him for what he was. It's completely different from who he is.”
Our conversation was brought to an abrupt end when Aaric snorted loudly and sat up, rubbing his bleary eyes. His hair stood on end.
“Light the fire, please,” I said to Bran. I smiled fondly at Aaric who blinked blearily at me, and stood to find some water.
I walked away from the small camp, thinking about what Bran had said. Maybe he was right. Most slaves never felt anything but hatred and anger toward their masters. At the very least they viewed the matter with weary resignation. Only a few seemed to develop loyalty to their masters. I thought of Ember and Kingsley and shuddered. Now there was a messed up relationship.
I found a small stream not far from the camp. I bent down and filled our water skins and looked up when I heard footsteps. Aaric came to stand beside me.
“Is everything all right?” he asked. “Bran looks ready to chew nails.”
“He'll be fine.” I didn't look up, pretending to be focused on my task. “We don't see eye to eye on some things.”
“Can we trust him?” I looked up at Aaric's question. His eyes were serious.
I sat back on my heels, thinking a moment. “I don't know,” I finally said. The fact bothered me. “I would like to think he's here to protect me, but he's loyal to the clan. If Oisin gave him orders that I'm not aware of . . .”
Aaric sat down beside me, and we were silent for a moment, troubled at the unspoken thought. I didn't really know Bran's reason for coming, but at the moment I could only hope it was to protect me, like he said.
Aaric drew my forehead to his, cupping my chin in his hand and promptly making me forget what I was thinking about a moment ago.
“We're going to be all right, Adaryn.” His lips brushed mine. “We'll find this sky jewel, and make everything right.”
I hugged him. “If there even is a sky jewel.”
Aaric laughed. “If not, we'll think of something.”
He stood, and offered a hand to pull me up. I took it and, standing, headed back to the small camp.
10
Aaric
“You've been to Sen Altare?” Aaric asked Bran. Adaryn rode slightly ahead of them, scanning the horizon. They’d been traveling for over a month, now. The rolling hillsides had given way to dry, grassy planes, and then to rocky lands sparsely wooded and covered with sagebrush. Aaric thought Bran and Adaryn were
being excessive in their scouting, but, he supposed, it was better safe than sorry. Both admitted that they didn’t trust Aaric to do a proper job of scouting, and did it themselves, though Adaryn never let Aaric leave her sight. Aaric let them. It gave him more time to write notes and read the few books he had brought from Ruis. He quickly learned how to do both while riding, a trick that seemed to greatly amuse the nomads.
“I’ve been to Sen Altare a few times,” Bran answered. The road rose and dipped in this terrain, but he rode his horse easily. “It's been several years, but I've been there. As I recall, it's quite different from Ruis.”
Aaric nodded, looking at Adaryn as she rode ahead of him, back straight on her shaggy pony. She had fiercely insisted that it was, in fact, a horse, if a little stocky, but Bran still teased her about it.
“Are there magistrates?”
“No. Sen Altare is ruled by a king.”
“There's someone out there.” Both men looked up at Adaryn as she spoke. She was peering at a thicket of straggly trees several paces ahead of them. Aaric couldn't see anyone, but he knew his eyesight wasn't as good as Adaryn's.
“It might be a brigand,” Adaryn said. She stopped her horse and looked around uncertainly.
Bran frowned, walking his steed forward. “He may just be a traveler.” He stiffened in alarm as several men seemed to rise out of the ground before them. They were armed and one leapt at Adaryn, brandishing a sword.
Aaric spurred his horse toward her, fumbling for the belt knife the nomads had given him. Confound the blasted arc-bow he left at home! Why didn’t he bring it?
Bran galloped past him, a pale blue sword in his hands. One of the strangers pulled up a drawn bow, arrow aimed for Bran's heart. Adaryn hurtled summoned fire at the man with a shriek, causing him to misfire.