For several minutes, Cam leaned her head against the wall contemplating her next move. Part of her was much too shocked to even consider what actions must follow to complete their task. It seemed almost impossible that Silva and Kazbek, the Medulla Realm leaders, would join Gnosi, the one realm they hated most, in a revolt.
“And what of these Spirit Followers? Which side was the right side?” Cam knew she could force herself to trust Silva and Kazbek and believe that Apollyon’s motives were noble. She could convince herself that the Spirit Followers were a deadly threat. There was one true thing, however. If Silva and Kazbek truly loved her, they wouldn’t have trapped her here. They would have tried to make her understand.
“And even more than that, they lied to me,” Cam thought. They told her they would help those against Apollyon. They used her sister for their own purpose. The answer crept slowly into her mind as her eyelids drooped, and she knew who held the answers, not about Terra but about everyone else. She could find out for herself whether or not the Spirit Followers were worth threatening a war for their deaths. The thought woke her, and she rose to her feet quietly. She glanced at Fiera, Kane, and Caleb who were all on the floor, leaning against the earthen wall.
“They’ll stop me if I try to go,” Cam knew.
But as she reached into her pocket and felt the three small vials pressing against her fingers, she knew she had an answer. The guards had cups. And they were dozing. Cam glanced at the three with her. They weren’t looking. And then taking out the vial that help the sleep-inducing magic of Imber Fel, she slipped it into the cup. “Here,” she said aloud. “They left water.” Fiera, Kane, and Caleb each took a drink gratefully.
When they had fallen asleep, Cam began, in vain, to fumble with the lock on the door. The guards were snoring loudly. Her eye caught a spot in the vine-made cage in which the vines were far enough apart that she might manage to squeeze herself through. She grasped the vines with her hands and pulled herself up until her feet were dangling in mid-air. She turned sideways and freed her head before easing the rest of her body through the opening.
She grunted as she twisted and turned. She became stuck many times and had to cease in order to calm her irritated self. Finally, with one last push, most of her body was free. There were red marks on her arms from the pressure of the tight space. She twisted her booted feet and pulled them through.
The next moment, she had left her companions behind. She fled into the night from the clearing into the forest. The blackness of the forest surrounded her. She shivered and jumped at sudden intervals in fright of strange noises. “They’re just animals,” she whispered to herself. When she approached the borders of the realm a few miles later, she spotted a mare tied to a tree, its rider, a night watchman near the borders, was doing business behind a tree. Without hesitation, she untied the steed and mounted.
She urged the mare, and the horse darted into the tenebrous night. “Amelia and I leave in the morning for the Medulla Realm. Tyron has ordered we leave the south due to his father’s refusal to protect the Spirit Followers, even if some of us are his own people. I have yet to set foot in that realm and hope it will bring safety.”
-From the diary of Cassia Caddell written during the Third Age
Twenty-Eight
The sun had long since vanished from the skies, and Peter Adriel
had not yet gone to bed. Over the past couple of weeks, he had dedicated his time to glancing through volume after volume in search of historical texts that might reveal Leviathan's link to his father. He had found nothing and thus remained only with the memories of his parents' whispered conversations about the Shadow Bearer Daniel had battled years before Peter's birth.
Peter closed the last volume he would read tonight and turned from the curtained window beside the cluttered bookcase in his and Cole’s private study off the main hall of the palace. The fire in the hearth beckoned to him, and he sat in a plush armchair with one arm draped over its side and the other holding his resting chin.
His eyes began to droop, but he would not sleep. Not yet. He still had to write that letter to Cole. He had penned the first half during his supper; relating to Cole his mysterious and unexpected encounter with his daughter only weeks ago. Why had Camaria been here? He still asked this question.
Lord Caddell had departed from the palace shortly before that night. Peter slumped tiredly to his writing desk and picked up the sharpened, thin stick of sanded, smooth wood and dipped it into the ink. Lord Caddell had ventured north to fetch their emissary to the northern monarch ruled nation of Nazeria. The emissary would be directed to their hideout in the Black Mountains where he would await further instructions. Lord Caddell and Amelia would then proceed to Nazeria to see the queen and grant her gifts from Mirabelle to comfort her after the loss of her husband.
Peter finished the letter with a flourish of “I pray yousafety in your journey,” and was prepared to fold and bind the parchment with string when a desperate, hesitant knock sounded at the front door. Peter started, his eyes narrowed and ears perked. “Who on earth?” He rose quietly and tiptoed to the study door, listening for another knock. It came.
The remaining Royals and, as far as he knew, the servants had turned in for the night hours ago. As Peter neared the enormous front doors, the knock sounded again. This time, it was louder than the last. He placed a careful hand on the handle and turned it slowly. The door opened only enough that he could peer through at the tattered and hooded figure standing and panting before him. She was splattered with mud and rainwater. A light drizzle was running off of the tree branches and the slanted roof of the palace.
“Miss…Briar?” he asked, his voice a partial gasp. He saw Camaria swallow, attempting to slow her uneven breaths. The horse stood yards off in the courtyard tied to the iron fence. The night air was bitter and made Peter shiver. He opened the door as her brilliant eyes met his from her light brown skin. Before she said anything, she gently eased past him into the warmth of the hall.
The journey had seemed to Cam to last an eternity. She was
determined to return before anyone realized she had escaped. The Royalty Realm she knew was not far away. When she and Amelia had made the trip, it took less than a day and in that instance they had been walking their horses for the majority of the journey. At a full speed gallop, Cam had made far faster time. The night air had nipped mercilessly at her face. She had struggled to keep her breath and stay on the darkened road. She had ridden while still trying to grasp the thought that she was fleeing from a prison cell, embedded there by the people who raised her.
Questions still circled her mind like a whirlwind. She had told herself to focus on the road. The fear of robbers and wild animals emerging from the shadows prickled in her mind even now as she stepped into the dim hall.
It had been many hours later when the Royalty Realm’s palace loomed almost ominously against the black, slowly fogging sky. Cam had leaped off her horse and hurriedly tied the reins to a courtyard tree. As soon as she had reached the door, her stiffened fist voluntarily collided with the heavy wood. Most of the windows were dark, and Cam was sure she was disturbing someone’s sleep. Though it was near dawn the morning was far too early.
The door creaked open and Cam was met with a dark blue, wavering gaze. Peter stood in the doorway, wide-eyed, fully dressed, and holding a flickering candle. Cam was too out of breath to explain her sudden appearance or even greet him. A look of recognition flickered over his face.
“Well hello,” he greeted her quietly when she had pushed past him. Cam only nodded as she was still attempting to catch her breath. Peter closed the door quietly.
“Did I wake you?” she asked at last. He shook his hea d and observed her, a puzzled expression crossing his countenance. Cam knew that she looked highly disheveled.
“You haven’t finished training already have you?” “No. Well yes, but that’s not why I’m here. I need-” He cut her off. “You’re hurt.” At that moment Cam realized
“How far did you travel to come here?” he asked, running the wet cloth across her torn skin. His gaze slipped up to meet hers. Cam winced as the rag pulled tissue from her skin.
“Too many miles to count. I came from Medulla.” “At this time of night? Well…morning.”
Cam nodded but did not elaborate just now. “I have to tell
you-” Peter interrupted her with a quick dart of his gaze to hers. “Not now. You need to clean up, and while you are I’ll find something for you to eat. Get cleaned up and then you can tell me why you're here.” Peter paused. "I'm guessing it's something important." Peter left before Cam could reply. To be honest, Cam was expecting a different kind of welcome. A scene in which there would be many people, but it was the middle of the night and she was fortunate that Peter was even awake.
Although the bath was deliciously warm, Cam hurried to clean herself. There was no time to waist. After vigorously scrubbing her filthy body, she found that Peter had laid out one of his own shirts and trousers for her to wear. Since the clothing was extras of his, they were a little big but felt comfortable. Cam shook the water out of her dripping hair as she entered the next room, fully clothed. Peter stood before a fire, binding parchment with string.
"Well that was quick," he said, glancing up from what appeared to be a writing desk.
"What are you doing?” Cam inquired lightly.
"I need to send this letter." Peter motioned at a table set low between two plush armchairs. "I hope the food suits you. It isn't hot but--" He trailed off as Cam nodded her thanks and sank into the chair.
Cam peered at the bowl of dark stew and found its aroma delicious. She dipped her spoon into it. “Did you make this?”
Peter nearly snorted. “No, no I found it in the kitchen and warmed it somewhat over the fire.”
A brief moment of silence passed before Cam said, “Your sister is a good cook. She cooked for me during training.”
Peter looked up at her in slight surprise. He shrugged. “You were bound to meet her I suppose.”
Cam made no comment to this. She took one bite of the stew beforedeclaring, “I needyour help.” His browfurrowedas heraised his curious eyes to meet hers. Peter lowered himself to the seat beside her. Without permission to continue, Cam related briefly the previous events. She stammered a moment near the end, withholding the subject of investigation. There was still part of her considering whether or not she had come to the right person.
"You came for my help?"
Cam swallowed. “You have answers don’t you?”
"I am rather confused…Aren't the Medulla Realm leaders the people who raised you? Why would they betray you?" Cam sighed, for she wondered the same thing. She didn't know how much Peter knew of the revolt. Nevertheless, she told him all she knew including the murder of Tyron's daughter thus the motivation for going to the Medulla Realm. "I knew about the revolt already," Peter replied. He sat rocking back and forth for a moment, thinking. "My sister sent word. When I asked her what was being done about it and what I could do to help, she said that she would send word to the other realms. I didn’t think she meant you…”
Cam shook her head, brows furrowing. “She didn’t send me, Peter. She only sent me away from Gnosi. I never told her any of my plans to warn the other realms.”
Peter’s brows lifted for a moment before they slackened and a small smiletugged at the corners of his mouth. “But she knew you would.” He leaned back, a shaky laugh brushing past his lips. “My sister is smart, and she no doubt had someone follow to ensure you would do as she thought you would.”
“So I was her pawn?” Cam asked, her voice growing incredulous.
Peter shrugged. “Would you have made the same decision if you had known?”
Yes. Yes, she would always make it. Even with what had happened to Terra. Because it meant learning the truth. The truth now imbedded so deep within her like a blade to her gut that she couldn't quite feel it now.
Numb.
That was how she felt now and how she had felt with her knees sunk in the dirt, fingers clutching the little pink flowers she held over…
Cam squeezed her eyes shut. She had left that part out of her story. She has left out everything concerning the valley.
Peter was nodding as if he had heard her answer.
Cam’s eyes fluttered open as she remembered what else he hadsaid. “Someonefollowedme? Yes. Owen,” shewhisperedunder her breath.
Owen and Saffira. Cole and Peter. Amelia and Terra. All of them entangled for one purpose. She wasn’t sure if this revelation was morenumbingthan theoneofSilva, KazbekandApollyon but…
But she glanced at Peter, remembered Saffira and tried to feel resentment. She tried to feel herself hardening at the thought of the Spirit Followers. But in the end, she had made the same choice.
“Save the innocent people.”
The thought seemed to big. Like...too much.
But Khatara, and her father and Kane grieving...
It didn’t seem big enough.
“What kind of help do you need?" Peter was asking as if he too was feeling the sudden heaviness in the room.
Cam blinked the glaze in her eyes and forced the choked sound from her throat. "I need help rescuing my sister and friends...and, and convincing Medulla’s people to return with us to the south. But I came more for answers. I have to know: Why exactly does Apollyon wish to exploit all existence of your people?” Cam could, if she wanted, rescue her comrades on her own. Her desire to question Peter about the reliability and goodness of the Spirit Followers were her true intention. Perhaps if Peter was willing to help, it would reveal to her whether or not he was to be trusted.
But now she realized that it wasn’t Peter who had the answers.
It had never been.
He glanced at her before replying. “We’re an obstacle; a people group with a belief system that goes against all he wants. And that is a broad answer...I know, but I do not believe that our values are the main reason. There must be more to this. What exactly that is, I cannot tell you...”
“Are you good people?” Cam asked quietly. “The Spirit Followers. My sister believed you were.”
Peter’s lips turned upward in a small smile which barely reached his eyes. He clasped his hands together. “Terra, yes, I remember. She had the same sort of light I have seen in my own people.”
Cam’s heart was racing, expanding, brinking on breaking altogether. Yes, that light had been within her as she had slipped from this realm.
Peter had also risen, his hands now slipping into his pockets. “Iwouldsaywehave therightintentions, but nohuman is evertruly good.” Time spent in silence passed. Cam sat involuntarily, everything now washing over her anew. She trailed her eyes over Peter, that strong jaw, lean frame, and mop of black hair. He was rocking on his heels, eyes trained to the floor. Cam knew he was trying to formulate a plan. “You’ve changed,” he said quietly as he tilted his head towards her.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
He shrugged. "I don't know. You just have." His tone was soft. Cam glanced down at herself and realized that she probably looked quite different than what she did when Peter last saw her. Last time, she was a quiet, trimmed to fit the Medulla customs of womanhood has imposed by its former leaders. Her once slim figure was now firm, hardened muscle. She knew her eyes held a purposeful look as Tyron had told her.
“I suppose we should leave,” Peter said without looking in Cam’s direction. He rose to his feet and crossed the room to gather a cloak and weaponry.
Cam rose and walked slow
ly to where Peter now stood. "Where is…Lord Caddell?" She asked hesitantly without remembering her decision to inquire of such a thing.
"You mean your father?" Peter turned to lock her eyes with his. He handed her a cloak. He swung a bow and quiver of arrows over his shoulder and pulled an extra shirt over his head, rumpling his jet black hair.
“I cannot call him that. Maybe someday. But...not while everything else is...” Cam began.
Understanding seemed to reach Peter’s eyes, and he nodded.
"He isn't here. He left on some business." He wrapped a belt around her waist and buckled it with quick fingers. He flipped a dagger’s hilt to her,andshetook its warm metal in her palm. Peter’s hand pressed to her back and pushed her towards the door. She heard him sigh behind her. “Well this certainly wasn’t how I pictured the rest of my night.”
Fiera awoke to see the dawn. It was natural for her. What seemed
unnatural now was that she had slept at all. The dawn was blocked from her view by the trees of the forest and the fact that she was stuck in a pit. Her first thoughts and feelings were of alarm, for there were only two others beside her.
So that was how she had slept.
“Hell, Cam! Did you knock me out…” she hissed. Voices called to each other overhead. “How could she have
escaped?” Fiera listened intently at their low yet heated conversation. Despite the hard knot on her head, she grinned, and her curiosity piqued.
“Cam, where the hell did you go?”
“She wouldn’t leave her comrades behind,” a soft voice said. Fiera, who was attempting to peer through the vines of their prison, turned to see Caleb approach her. Kane was still sprawled upon the ground still sleeping. Or had Cam knocked him out too.
“We really need to take that slingshot from her.” Aloud, she said. “I know,” Fiera replied shortly. Caleb shifted. He seemed as though he wanted to say something, and finally, he did.
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