Dreg (The Dreg Trilogy Book 1)
Page 9
“I’ll be keepin’ my eye on ya, girly.”
“Sounds like the perfect opportunity for you to slit my throat,” Mara said, ears planted firmly behind her. If Wynn did try anything, she would be ready for her. She ran a hand down her bow and patted her thigh where her dagger was hidden.
Wynn cackled in response.
Unaware of her plight, Ansel walked next to Mikkal, trying to get the wiry man to speak.
“Ah, you won’t get a word out of this one, I’m afraid. He’s a Shield, and as such, took a vow of silence when he received his assignment,” Steel explained. “Terrible for conversation, but he does make a lovely decoration, wouldn’t you agree?”
A Shield! Mara and Ansel exchanged looks of surprise, though his was full of excitement. Shields were rare and only guarded noblemen. Mara eyed Steel’s fine clothes with more than a little speculation and filed the information away for later.
“So, he doesn’t talk at all? Not even if you’re in danger?” Ansel asked, curiosity coloring his words.
“Not a word! Shields, like children, are meant to be seen and not heard, according to my father.” Steel slowed his pace until he walked side by side with Mara. “So, my dear. Tell me more about yourself.”
“What would you like to know?” she hedged.
“For starters, where are you from?”
Mara chose her response carefully. Until she was sure these people could be trusted, she decided to remain guarded. “A small, inconsequential village. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
Steel made a noncommittal hum. “I rather doubt that. I know of many places.”
“What about you? Your accent isn’t as thick as Wynn’s, and I can’t imagine you growing up in a village around here. Where are you from?”
“A large, consequential city, far away from here,” he replied, eyes twinkling.
Mara frowned at his vague response, realizing she wouldn’t get any information if she wasn’t willing to give some herself. What could it hurt if he knew? “Stonehollow.”
Steel’s face brightened as he latched onto the morsel she tossed him. “A small, rural community in the very south of the Scion Peninsula! Main trades are agriculture and hand-crafted goods and furniture.”
She blinked, shocked that he knew so much. “Yes, actually. How did you know that?”
He chuckled. “As I said, there a few places I don’t know of. Now, I suppose it’s only fair to reveal that Mikkal and I are from Crystalmoor. Have you been?”
She shook her head, thinking of the coastal kingdom running down the right side of the continent. Few of her community would be insane enough to travel that far, through the savage desert of the Kearar Kingdom. Crystalmoor’s prized seafood would rot long before making it home and they had no need for pretty seaglass or baubles. “Maybe one day, if I survive long enough. I’ve been to the coast south of Stonehollow once, but the beach is rocky, and the water is too rough for swimming.”
“You simply must visit Crystalmoor. The sand is so soft beneath your toes that it feels as though you’re walking on clouds. The water is warm and clear and when it reflects the light, it sparkles like a million gemstones. My sisters would always tease me, saying I spent more time in the water than even the fish do. I vow, you will fall in love and never want to leave.” His voice grew wistful, as though he were homesick.
“It sounds like you loved it. Why did you leave?”
Mara regretted the question instantly as his aquamarine eyes clouded, adopting a haunted look that spoke of a pain and loss that took her breath away. Beneath the amiable, carefree facade stood a man who had experienced hardship, just like her. In that moment, she felt a kinship with him. She placed a hand on his arm and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
And just like that, the mask was back on. He shrugged her hand off and smiled. “It’s no matter. We have more important things to do than discuss my love of the sea.”
Without preamble, Tova slipped off into the forest and out of sight. Alarmed, Mara opened her mouth to alert the others. Didn’t she know it wasn’t safe to wander off?
“Doncha worry ‘bout Tova. Taught that one everything I know,” Wynn said, striding forward with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. At Mara’s questioning look, she huffed in irritation. “Foraging, idiot…”
“Who are you calling an—”
“Just think, some delicious late berries. Perhaps some nuts as well. That Tova has a keen sense about her. If there’s food to be had, she’ll find it for sure,” Steel interrupted.
Mara sighed and let the slight go. “I suppose that would be nice.”
And sure enough, twenty minutes later, Tova skipped back to the group. Her small pack was filled to the brim with hickory nuts, wild grapes, mushrooms and onions. The others showered her with appreciation, commending her on a fine haul. Mara wanted to ask how they would cook it without a fire but held her tongue. Barely.
The sun had risen to midday and Wynn was driving a grueling pace, barking at them to move faster. Unused to the constant exertion, Mara’s legs burned until she was sure they’d fall off. The others weren’t doing much better. Sweat dripped down Steel’s flushed face. Ansel’s boots dragged on the ground as he walked, an improvement over his usual, stomping gait. Only when Tova was about to keel over did Wynn relent and allow a rest. A short rest, she had warned, looking at them each in turn as though challenging them to argue with her decision.
Mara sagged to the ground, too exhausted to move another inch. She pulled her water skein from her pack and guzzled the lukewarm water, not bothering to wipe her chin where it spilled. Right now, Ansel’s offer to go home was tempting. More than tempting. She gave in to the brief fantasy, daydreaming about her soft bed, her mother’s delicious pies and best of all, no more Wynn. That woman would be the death of her for sure.
“How much farther,” Tova asked, chest heaving. She’d collapsed where she stood, her legs splaying out at an awkward angle.
“If we continue at this pace, whoever is still alive will reach the Keep by nightfall,” Ansel said. Mara imagined he wanted to sound gruff, but the effect was ruined by his wheezing breaths.
Wynn shot him a look that could melt ice. “You’d rather get caught then? Or maybe ya do want us to get caught. Is that yer plan?”
Ansel jumped to his feet, fists clenched. “Don’t be ridiculous. If we’re careful and stay off the main road, we won’t get caught. There’s no sense in running us to the ground.”
“Just because yer weak don’t mean ya should hold us back,” Wynn said, crossing her arms across her chest.
“I’m weak? Look at Tova! You’re delusional if you think she’ll make it another hour. Why not set up camp for the night and walk the rest of the way tomorrow?”
And while the rest fought amongst themselves, they failed to recognize death approaching with quiet certainty. Mara didn’t know what made her look up: a stilling of the woods, hushed with anticipation or the sudden prickle of dread that crawled down her spine. The hairs on her neck rose and Mara nocked and loosed an arrow before the others realized the danger.
The man, wearing the gray robes of a disciple, stared in disbelief as the arrow sank into his neck. Blood trickled from his mouth and he fell, hitting the soft earth with a muffled thud.
Mouths agape, the group snapped to their feet, weapons drawn. They were surrounded by five, no six, men. Thankfully, all wore gray robes, as far as she could tell. Facing disciples, they stood a chance, despite their exhaustion. Ansel charged forward to face a single disciple while Steel and Mikkal took three between them.
A disciple, looking too relaxed for the circumstances, strolled towards her. Mara loosed an arrow at him, groaning as it flew wide. She shot another, praying that it would fly true. The approaching disciple smirked and waved the arrow away with a quick burst of air from his palms. She cursed. How was she supposed to fight a Caeli? She leapt to the side, feeling her hair whip around her face, as the disciple pelted her with a windy blast.
The Caeli took advantage of Mara’s distraction, moving closer with his face scrunched in concentration. Mara drew another arrow and braced herself for another blast of air, preparing to dive out of the way. She paled in horror as the first tendrils of air snaked their way out of her mouth. The Caeli stole the breath from her lungs, slowly suffocating her from the inside out. Mara dropped her bow, clawing at her neck as her chest burned. As she struggled desperately to take a breath, black spots clouded her vision.
Air whooshed back into Mara’s lungs as the tip of a sword appeared through the Caeli’s chest. Ansel stepped from behind the man, pulling his sword free and kicking the body to the side. He offered her a hand up, scanning her for injuries. When he appeared confident that she was unharmed, he ran off to aid Steel and Mikkal, who were down to one disciple each.
Chest heaving, Mara leaned back against a tree to catch her breath and watch them fight. Steel moved with the grace of a river, flowing between men and expertly slicing and jabbing. By contrast, Mikkal was all power and brute force. He was like a raging bear versus mice. Mara wished she could have a fraction of his skills.
Wynn dispatched her adversary and knelt next to Tova, whispering comforts. A seventh disciple crept behind her, sword raised above his head. Mara shouted a warning as she drew her dagger and threw it. The disciple hollered as it pierced his shoulder. Wynn leapt to her feet, finishing him with a quick stab of her blade.
“Thanks… Nice shot,” Wynn said, though her gratitude was soured by a scowl.
“Umm… no problem.” Mara said, reluctant to mention that she had actually been aiming for his eye. But hey, if Wynn wanted to credit the throw to masterful precision rather than pure, dumb luck, Mara was not going to correct her.
She looked over her shoulder to watch the rest of the fight. Only one disciple remained— an Armis, judging by the nifty magic sword gripped in his hand. Ansel, Steel and Mikkal circled around him like birds of prey, taking turns attacking.
Within minutes, it was over. Ansel pulled a chain from inside a disciple’s tunic, holding it up for display. Dangling from the end was a metal pendant, shaped like an eye within a circle. “This one was a Veniet. I guess that’s how they found us so easily.”
Mara’s stomach soured. A Veniet, a tracker, could detect the Gifts of others. As a result, it was their sole duty to hunt down rogue dregs in the name of the Order.
They combed the bodies, taking weapons, coin and anything else that would be useful.
“We need to move. If they had an Avem, the Order will soon know of their failure to capture you.”
“You think they wanted us alive?” Mara asked. “That Caeli was trying to suffocate me!”
Steel shrugged, a gesture that looked far too casual for his broad shoulders. “Perhaps until you were unconscious and unable to fight back. Then they could have wrapped you in chains and gift wrapped you for the Order. Of course, you never told us why you were running in the first place…”
Mara opened her mouth to reply, but Wynn rolled her eyes and cut her off. “Ya can swap stories once we’re at the Keep. Shut yer mouths and start moving!”
This time, no one argued.
Chapter Ten
The tall, lively trees had evolved into a gnarled tangle of ancient, graying sentinels, guarding secrets of days gone by. Mara couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, now rapidly fading with the setting sun, that cast menacing shadows that seemed to dance and sway around them. Or maybe it was Mara’s own sense of foreboding that allowed her imagination to run wild. Unnatural silence reigned supreme, as though the forest was choked with sadness. And yet, beneath it all, Mara felt a foreign tug deep in her core that pushed her forward when all her instincts screamed to turn back.
The castle lay broken in a grave of rock and vegetation. Black moss crept up the sides like a vengeful earth goddess, reclaiming what man had stolen. Boulders dotted the grounds, left where they had fallen years ago. The ruins themselves were crumbling. The watch tower, which had once stood proudly, now lay fallen to their right in a great heap of bitter regret.
For the first time, Mara believed the old ghost stories could be true.
“Well, this is quite charming,” Steel said, striding towards the doorway, which miraculously, stood intact. The others followed at a slower pace, cautiously picking their way through the rubble.
Once they got closer, Mara realized that the door wasn’t quite as unblemished as she’d thought. Decay permeated the wood, leaving it riddled with holes. She was reluctant to push it open, afraid that it would crumble to dust beneath her fingers. The loud creak of rusty hinges pierced the silence as Steel pushed the door open. A thick cloak of dust blanketed the interior and cobwebs danced in lazy disturbance. Mara tiptoed into the ruins, afraid to awaken the specters she imagined residing within.
A brief look around revealed that looters had removed everything of importance long before their birth. The few remaining tapestries hung rotting, their threads dangling in despair. Their boots echoed on the smoothed stone flooring. The smell of age and decay clung to Mara’s nostrils, and coaxed a sudden sneeze.
Startled, the group jumped at the sound.
Wynn broke the silence first. “Okay, let’s get to searchin’. Best go in pairs, eh?”
“Wait, what are we looking for, exactly?” Mara asked. When Wynn opened her mouth with, no doubt, another scathing reply, Mara cut her off with an upraised hand. “And I swear to the gods, if you make another comment about my intelligence, your face will become intimately familiar with my fist.”
Wynn’s face slackened with shock. Then she threw her head back, roaring with laughter. “So, the kitten has claws, eh?” The mirth disappeared, and she narrowed her eyes, regarding Mara with cold speculation. “Good. You’ll be needin’ them.”
Steel cleared his throat. Mara watched as he exchanged a long look with Mikkal, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of his stern head. “Mikkal and I will take the library. Why don’t you and Ansel check the right wing of the castle while Tova and Wynn do a sweep of the left? Anything you believe to be useful will suffice.”
Mara frowned at the vague response, but since Steel seemed particularly interested in books, she’d grab any they found. She nodded and headed down the hallway to their right with Ansel following close on her heels.
The first few rooms were bare except for a few pieces of broken furniture and pottery. Ansel paused to inspect a shattered jar. Mara noticed some etchings in the wall and leaned closer to read them. Nathan was here. Sid loves Marta. “Well, that’s original.”
Ansel peaked over her shoulder and snickered. “It’s kind of a big deal if you can spend the night in the Ghost Keep. I guess they wanted to leave their mark on the place.”
“Yeah, but writing on the wall doesn’t mean they actually spent the night. They could have come in broad daylight and left as soon as the etching was done.”
He looked stunned, like she had hit him across the head with a frying pan. “I didn’t think about that. Wow, that would have saved me a clean pair of trousers.”
She laughed and ducked her head back into the hallway to make sure the others hadn’t followed them. “So, what do you think?”
“You already know what I think.”
“No, not that. The others. What do you think about them?”
He paused, mulling it over. “I’m dying to spar with Mikkal, and Steel seems nice enough, though I don’t like the way he looks at you.”
“Wait, how does he look at me?”
“I don’t know. Like you’re some sort of prize, or…”
“Or what?”
“Nevermind,” Ansel said, cheeks reddening.
Mara rolled her eyes an
d walked down the hall, letting her fingers brush the cool surface of the stone walls. “What about Wynn and Tova? Where do you think they’re from?”
“Wynn is definitely from Lingate,” he said confidently.
“Oh? What makes you say that?”
“It’s her accent. When my father and I went to Merrowhaven a few years ago, there was a camp of refugees from Lingate outside the city walls. I guess there was a huge civil war brewing to overthrow the reigning Warlord and they wanted to avoid getting caught in the middle. Anyway, all of them spoke like they had a mouth full of rocks.”
“I’ve always wanted to go to Merrowhaven,” she sighed. The way others had described it made the capital sound like a wonderful, magical place. But no matter how much she begged her father, he refused to take her on his trips saying that her status as a dreg would hurt sales. The gentleness of his tone did nothing to soothe the sting and now, she might never have a chance to see it for herself.
“Why don’t we go visit it together? I mean, you’re determined to head north anyway…”
“As fugitives. I want to find a safe place for dregs, not stroll straight into a city crawling with disciples!” She swallowed the bitterness in her voice and changed the subject. “So, what about Tova?”
Ansel paused, brows scrunched in thought as he climbed over a boulder that blocked their path. “Honestly, I’m not sure. She doesn’t have an accent, and the way she talks and acts… she could be from anywhere. Maybe Esterwyn.” He reached down, offering a hand to help her over the rock.
It was an uneasy alliance for sure. They knew little to nothing about the others, but inconvenient circumstances threw them together. Well, if a dagger to the throat could be considered inconvenient, that is.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. We’ll be leaving in the morning and good riddance,” Ansel said firmly.
“What? What do you mean we’re leaving in the morning? I thought we would travel with the group for a while. For protection.”