by Kara Jaynes
Hope wasn’t dead yet. I felt it stir as I looked at the nomad.
Out of nowhere, the wind picked up with startling ferociousness, whipping my hair into my face. Bran sat straight backed and motionless in his saddle, facing the brigands.
Their battle cries had turned into whoops of victory. They believed the battle already won.
Aaric reined his horse beside me, his face tense.
With a deafening roar, lightning stabbed down from the sky in the midst of the brigands, scattering them like leaves in a gale. Russet and Aaric’s horse bucked and screamed; only Star stood motionless.
Lightning struck, again and again, into the ranks of outlaws. They were running in all directions now, without rhyme or reason. The battle had lasted less than a minute.
Bran sat slumped in his saddle, swaying like he would fall. Gaining control of Russet, I rode forward and grabbed his arm, steadying him.
“Where in blazes did that come from?” Aaric asked in wonderment, staring at the retreating backs of the outlaws.
Dismounting my own horse, I scrambled up Star, seating myself behind Bran. I had seen him do this once before, and knew he wouldn’t be strong enough to stay in his seat. I wrapped my arms around his waist, keeping him steady.
“Lead the way Aaric,” I said. “Keep your arc-bow ready. We need to return to Sen Altare.”
25
Aaric
“Bran did that?” Aaric asked in wonder. He was riding his own horse, and leading Russet by the reins. “I didn’t know magic could control the elements.”
“It can’t, not usually,” Adaryn said. She was seated behind the tall nomad, her arms wrapped securely around his waist. Bran looked almost asleep. Aaric felt his lips thin. He didn’t like the sight of them sitting together, but Bran had certainly saved their lives today. The least they could do was make sure he didn’t fall out of his saddle.
Adaryn continued. “Bran . . . has a gift. Magic users call upon enchantment using the strength that is within themselves. Bran can, too. However, he can also call upon the power of earth and sky that most of us cannot. He’s the only one in our clan that can do it.”
Aaric peered at Bran. The man still swayed in his saddle, his eyes half-closed. “Why didn’t he cast lightning the last time we were attacked?”
Adaryn clucked her tongue in irritation. “I know you can see, Aaric. The man is half-dead with exhaustion. He only uses the elements when he absolutely has to, as he works the power through his own strength.”
Aaric squinted through the deepening gloom. Dusk had come and it was getting increasingly dark. A light rain started falling, which added to the darkness. “Blast this rain,” he muttered.
“Be thankful for it, Aaric.” Adaryn spoke again. “It will help hide us from the brigands.” She hugged Bran. “Thank Bran.”
Aaric stared again at him. Bran would fetch a pretty penny if he were to ever be collared. He chuckled ruefully. Bran would slaughter anyone fool enough to try.
“Aaric?” Adaryn’s voice sounded small, frightened even. “What do we do now?”
Aaric grimaced. He didn’t have the slightest idea as to what they should do, but he had to put a brave face on for Adaryn’s sake.
“We’re going to return to Sen Altare,” he said. “If we travel through the night we should be there by mid-morning, despite the rain.” He grunted with irritation. “If one of our horses doesn’t break a leg first.”
Adaryn urged Star forward, and slipped one hand from Bran’s waist. A small, yellow ball of light floated above her palm, and she held it up, casting a dim light on their path.
“We need to get Bran somewhere to rest,” Aaric said. His talking seemed to relax Adaryn, and, if he was being honest, made himself feel a little better. The damp night wasn’t doing much to lift his spirits. “Maybe back to the Dancing Cat.”
“How did the brigands surprise us?” Adaryn asked. “They couldn’t know we were coming. They couldn’t.”
“Perhaps one of their scouts saw us approach the Ruins.” It was a very likely possibility.
Adaryn nodded. “That’s true. That would explain how they managed to not be seen by Bran or I. They saw us first.”
“No joke,” Aaric chuckled drily.
Adaryn’s brow was furrowed in thought. “How are we going to sneak back to the Ruins without them seeing us?”
“Go back?” Aaric asked blankly. “Why would we do that?”
“We need to find Fyrsil.”
Aaric sighed. “I don’t think there’s a ‘Fyrsil’ anymore, Adaryn,” he said wearily. “That was probably close to ten years ago that my father heard the rumor.”
“There has to be,” Adaryn insisted. “It’s the only lead we have.”
Aaric shrugged, pretending indifference. In truth, it was a crushing blow to lose their only lead, however slight it had been.
“Oisin can burn in the abyss.” It hadn’t been meant for his ears, but Aaric heard it, and smiled.
“Remember, Adaryn, your chief’s never heard of a ‘reformed Oppressor.’ He can hardly be blamed for his animosity toward me.”
“I don’t care,” Adaryn said grumpily. “It’s his fault we’re out here. His son almost died because of his fool errand.”
His son is the reason we’re still alive, Aaric thought, but didn’t voice it. He wished he were a better protector, that he could be the one to save Adaryn.
“What if we can’t find it, Aaric?” Adaryn asked. “The sky jewel? What if all the shards are either lost from the world or locked up in some fool’s manor? Shades alive, wouldn’t it just be our luck if Kingsley had one, or Miss Grace?” She was silent for a moment. “I guess I should go through Grace’s belongings, just in case.”
“Miss Grace almost certainly doesn’t have one,” Aaric said tiredly. “She’d have worn it like a bauble for everyone to see.” He didn’t know what he was going to do, but they had been away for months. Should he just give it up and admit defeat? He gave his word to either find one or return for their justice, and his word was his honor. The latter option didn’t sound appealing, but he also didn’t feel right asking Adaryn to sacrifice her whole life waiting on the chance that he might find one.
He glanced over once more at the tall nomad riding with her, feeling his shoulders sag with defeat. Bran wasn’t a bad man, and in Aaric’s failure, he would make a good husband.
Aaric hunched over in his saddle, brooding over his thoughts, each one more depressing than the last.
26
Adaryn
“You’re both knuckle-headed dunderheads!” I stood in front of the two fool men, fists on my hips, glaring up at them.
“Adaryn, I don’t know how long it would take me to find one, or that I even could,” Aaric said, holding his hands up in a peaceful gesture. “I can’t ask you to wait for what could be years, and that’s if I find one.”
Bran stood next to him, his face expressionless.
I shook a finger at him. “I’m not going to up and marry you, Bran, so don’t think that Aaric’s ridiculous behavior is going to land you a wife.”
He blinked. “I didn’t say—”
“No, but you’re thinking it,” I snapped. My face felt flushed. I hoped it wasn’t splotchy. I felt like I might cry. How dare Aaric even think of giving up? I wanted to box his ears. “I’m not sure who will kill you first, but it’ll either be Oisin or my father.”
Aaric smiled sadly. “You can only be killed once, you know.”
“Shut up!” I screamed. Tears built on my lashes. We were back at the Dancing Cat. Bran had needed two days to recover. I’d given him his space, knowing he needed rest. I had no idea the two idiots had been talking together about returning, and without my consent, too.
“I can talk to my father,” Bran said soothingly. “Now that I’ve seen Aaric around you, I can tell him that the Oppressor really cares for you.”
“And will that be enough to adopt him into the clan?” I asked, folding my arms. Bran didn
’t reply. We both knew the answer.
“Oh well,” I said dismissively. “I don’t care if I’m an outcast.” But I did.
“You really think they won’t kill me?” Aaric sounded puzzled. Not frightened. I could have laughed if I wasn’t already on the brink of crying. The fool man sounded puzzled!
Bran shook his head. “Not if I speak for you.”
“And you will?” Aaric pressed. Bran looked at him, his dark eyes solemn. Aaric nodded. “Afterward, I will return here to continue my work. Alone.”
“Well I have news for you two.” I felt tears trickle down my cheeks and I scrubbed them away angrily. “I’m not going!”
“Adaryn,” Aaric held his arms out but I turned away and fled from their room, slamming the door so hard it rattled on its hinges.
I raced down the stairs, ignoring Aaric’s shouts to come back. I entered the street, letting the noise, sights and smells wash over me. I rather liked this city, now that I’d spent so much time in it. I ran down the street, determined to get as far away from the two men at the inn. I wasn’t going to go back. Knowing Bran, he was probably recommending to Aaric they put me in a sack and carry it over their backs. I grinned, far from amused. I’d burn a hole in the sack and give them a right sound, well-deserved beating.
I eventually stopped on a particularly crowded street, rubbing at a stitch in my side. I took several deep breaths, fighting for air. Some people pushed me as they hurried by and I glared at them, angry. They didn’t so much as look at me. Many of the people held worried expressions.
I looked down the road and saw the reason for their concern. Several of the king’s soldiers were marching in two long lines down the street toward me as they made their customary rounds of the city.
I stepped out of the street to stand against a dirty-white stucco house, still watching them. They walked by me, never once looking to the left or right, simply staring straight ahead. I looked at their faces, wondering how they managed to stay so expressionless. That was when I saw him.
One of the soldiers at the end of the line was walking just as stiffly, his face devoid of expression, but I knew him. A full head taller than me, his face sun darkened, wild hair bleached white by the sun, with a long scar running down one cheek. The escaped brigand from our first ambush. The man was a soldier.
My heartbeat quickened as he walked by me, praying he wouldn’t look over. Sweat trickled down my arms and back, and it had nothing to do with the heat. Just as suddenly he was gone, and I let myself sit on the ground for a moment in relief. How had he become a soldier? The king would almost certainly have no idea, of course. I had better warn him. Perhaps that was how the brigands managed to stay a step ahead; they had infiltrated the king’s army.
I stood up, my weariness forgotten, and sped off to the palace. Matias needed to be warned.
27
Adaryn
I waited for the guards to walk past the garden wall as they made their rounds, then scrambled up the crumbling brick wall. I suspected this was how the rebels managed to get in. I hadn’t needed to use it earlier as I had been an invited guest. Right now I wanted to avoid all attention from the guards, as I didn’t know who I could trust.
I ran stealthily through the garden. Matias often walked his gardens, and I desperately hoped he did so now. I needed to tell him when no one else was around. He’d know what to do.
I heard voices and slowed my run, straining my ears to listen. I crept over to a particularly large, flowery bush and peered around it.
King Matias was standing not twelve feet away, talking to an officer I didn’t recognize.
“One of the men is a particularly powerful magic user, Your Majesty,” the officer said. “We didn’t know he could call lightning until it was down on top of us.”
I frowned, confused. Was he talking about Bran?
Matias grunted with irritation. “You had thirty men, Alexander, and you couldn’t take out two men and a woman? Must I do everything myself?”
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, but we did try. We just didn’t realize the man was so powerful. It was like he had a . . . a sky jewel in his possession.”
Matias laughed. “We both know how improbable that is.” All amusement dropped from his voice and he took a step closer to the officer. “I gave you one simple command, to kill the two magic users and their useless companion. If they learn that you and the brigands are one and the same . . .”
This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t be real.
The officer grimaced, clutching at his arm. “I hear and obey, Your Majesty. Reports are that they have returned to the Dancing Cat inn. We will attack them tonight.”
“Very good.” Matias bent forward to inspect his arm. “You’re injured. How?”
“The non-magic user has an arc-bow, Your Majesty.”
Matias laughed. “Not quite as useless as I suspected, then. Hold still.” He examined the officer’s arm.
I felt the magic again, as unbelievably powerful as before. A chain around Matias’ neck slipped down his chest a little, and a long, thin blue shard dangled on the end of the chain, exposed. It seemed to glow with its own light and power emanated from it. Before the words finished formulating in my mind I knew what it was.
A sky jewel.
I looked at King Matias again. A magic user, wielding a sky jewel, and using brigands as soldiers, to collect pillaged goods from merchants, and taxes from the commoners.
“Fyrsil.”
The name was out before I could call it back, and Matias’ blue eyes lifted to meet mine, widening with shock. “Adaryn?”
I catapulted myself away from that gaze and threw myself into a dead run, fleeing as if the jaws of the abyss had opened up to seize me. I heard Matias call out to me again, and I pushed myself even faster.
My mind was brought to another memory, of me running from Kingsley. He was one of the most powerful men in Ruis and I had had to run from him, too. I might have laughed if I hadn’t been running for my life.
28
Adaryn
I burst into Bran and Aaric’s room, gasping for air.
“Adaryn!” Bran stood up, his dark eyes smoldering with anger. “Where in blazes did you run off to? You do that again and I will paddle your backside so hard you—”
He cut off as I collapsed on the floor, my energy spent.
“What’s wrong?” The anger evaporated as he scooped me off the floor, laying me on the bed. He pushed me down when I tried to sit up.
“Where’s Aaric?” I breathed.
“We went looking for you, but when we couldn’t find you, he went to the Scholar’s Guild, in the event you showed up there. I came back here.”
“We must go. Now.” I pushed Bran aside and, swinging my legs over the edge of the bed, tried to stand. My legs felt wobbly and Bran held me steady as he pushed me to the door.
“Don’t let any of the king’s guards see us,” I warned as we walked down the stairs. Bran didn’t remark on it, only steered me toward the inn’s back door. From there he led me through the stable yard and down a back alley. We didn’t have time to grab our belongings or horses.
After a few minutes I was able to walk without Bran’s assistance and before long, I could move fairly briskly, but he didn’t want to risk running and capture anyone’s attention.
I breathed a sigh of relief once we were inside the Guild.
“Adaryn!” Aaric rushed forward, taking me by the arms. “Heavens, don’t ever do that to me again. If anything had—”
“Aaric,” I said, ignoring Luna who had stepped up behind him. “King Matias is Fyrsil, and he has the sky jewel.” Luna gasped in shock behind me, and Aaric’s grip tightened so it became almost painful. “Are you absolutely sure?”
“Completely. I saw it. His soldiers are masquerading as brigands. He gets to plunder and raise taxes.”
The room became so quiet that a mouse could have been heard had one scampered across the floor.
“Well,” Luna
said so suddenly that the rest of us jumped. “That changes things. If you three will come with me, please.”
She turned and walked deeper into the Guild. We followed. Bran looked questioningly at Aaric, who shrugged. He obviously didn’t know what this was for, either.
Luna led us to a couple of wide doors guarded by two men holding arc-bows.
“These three need to speak with the president immediately,” Luna said to them briskly.
They looked at each other for only a moment before nodding and stepping aside, pushing the doors wide for them. We stepped through, Luna still leading us.
An old, gray haired man was seated at a large table, going through an immense stack of papers. He looked up as we entered.
“Good morning, Sirius,” Luna said brightly. “I think this young lady has a few things to tell you.”
29
Adaryn
“What?” I spluttered. “Who are you?” I eyed the graying man somewhat dubiously.
Aaric coughed, and muttered under his breath. “Adaryn, he’s the head of the Scholar’s Guild. You can trust him.”
“Why would he care about any of this?” I whispered back.
“Just tell him,” Aaric said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. “We’re going to need their help.”
I looked back at the older man. He was peering at me quite intently. I bit my lip, thinking. The Scholar’s Guild had power and influence in the city. If anyone could take Matias out of power, it was them. We didn’t stand a chance, otherwise.
I took a deep breath, and told him about how I met Matias, and his connection with the brigands. I left the sky jewel out of the story, and surprisingly Luna and Aaric didn’t correct me. It was just as well. If the Scholar’s Guild knew about it, they’d probably lock it up for study, and we couldn’t afford to let that happen.
Sirius was silent after I finished my story, idly drumming his fingers on his desk. “So. Matias is a traitor to his people. I have suspected for some time, but I didn’t realize his treachery went this far.”