The Book of Kaels Bundle (Books 2 - 4): The Wood Kael, The Metal Kael, The Fire Kael

by Wendy Wang

  “I know,” Neala said. “That’s why I think you should send a communiqué first. To find out if Harbee breathed life into paintings for Peter like I did for you. If she did, Eryn might know where they are. Then all we need is for her to get Sorrel through one of the paintings and out of Ethavia. The other realms will be much easier to infiltrate or we can use your spy network to transport her.”

  “You know that might work,” he said.

  “Well don’t sound so surprised.”

  “I’m—I’m not. It’s an excellent idea.” He kissed her forehead. “Now let’s get inside before we both shiver apart.”

  “And we should let Eryn know that if something happens and she needs to get out, she’s to use the passageways. She’s our family too.”

  Cai brushed his thumb across her cheek. “Thank you. I appreciate you saying that.”

  “And you’ll send a communiqué tonight?”

  “As you wish my queen.” Cai grinned and bowed his head.

  Fourteen

  “Sorrel, wake up,” a voice hissed rousing her from sleep. Sorrel's eyes fluttered open. She glanced at the window to see if she could gauge the time. It was still dark out. “Eryn? What's wrong?”

  “Get up,” Eryn said. “I need you to come with me.”

  Sorrel pushed herself up and scrubbed her eyes with the palm of her hands. “What time is it?”

  “Late. Now come on,” Eryn said her voice barely above a whisper. She gathered a pair of pants and the blouse that Sorrel had worn just a few hours ago from the back of the chair near the bed.

  “Put these on.” She placed the clothes across Sorrel's lap.

  “Where are we going?” Sorrel asked.

  “I'll tell you when we get there just get dressed we don't have much time.” Eryn moved on to Sorrel’s desk, stopping every few seconds to glance at the door and listen. Her usually serene face looked pinched with anxiety.

  Panic fluttered around the edges of Sorrel’s heart. She got out of bed and pulled on her pants, watching as Eryn’s fingers deftly gathered drawings, fresh paper and charcoal from the desk. She stuffed them into a messenger bag.

  Sorrel sat on the edge of the bed yanking on her boots. Eryn put the messenger bag on the bed next to Sorrel. She threw the strap over her head and adjusted it across her body so the bag rested against the back of her hip. As soon as she stood, Eryn wrapped a crimson wool cape around her shoulders. She had bought it for Sorrel on her most recent trip into the city.

  “Come on.” She motioned Sorrel towards the door, opened it a crack and peered out. “Looks clear.”

  The two of them slunk out into the hall. The lights had been turned off and they stuck close to the walls where the shadows were deeper. A few moments later Eryn led her through the darkened kitchen out into the garden.

  Sorrel followed her twisting path through the small kitchen garden where rows of dark leafy greens and pumpkins and winter squash grew. She drew the cape tightly around her waist when they moved across the grounds. A cool sharp breeze cut across the dying roses and bit into her.

  “Eryn where we going?” she whispered.

  “You'll see,” Eryn said. “Just keep up.”

  Sorrel had to quicken her pace just to stay with Eryn. How could such a tiny young woman move so fast? When they got to the fork in the path instead of going right as they usually did Eryn led her toward the white building.

  “What are we doing?” Sorrel said as they stepped onto the portico. She glanced around for guardsmen feeling a little guilty for trespassing.

  “There’s something I want to show you.” Eryn stuck her key in the lock and she turned the knob.

  Sorrel followed her into the building and Eryn closed the door behind them. Lights flickered on automatically, illuminating the paintings lining the tall white walls. Most were landscapes that stretched from the floor almost to the ceiling. Some were places she had seen before in her visions.

  “Oh no,” Eryn said under her breath. She moved along the walls searching for something.

  “Help me. We have to get these lights out before a guardsman sees them. Look for a switch,” Eryn’s voice sounded shrill with panic.

  Sorrel glanced around, looking for a dial, like the one in her bedroom.

  “What is this place?” Sorrel asked rushing along the walls, trying to look over each painting before they were plunged into darkness again.

  “I told you. It was Harbee’s art studio,” Eryn said just before disappearing into the little office at the back of the studio. The lights went out and Sorrel’s heart raced faster. The room should have been quieter than it was. She turned in a circle looking for the source of the sound. Her gaze settled on the painting near the back corner of the room. It called to her, with rustling leaves and the sharp scent of cold air mixed with pine—home. She crossed the wide empty floor and stood in front of it, squinting her eyes, trying to make out the image.

  “We should be safe for now,” Eryn said, rejoining Sorrel in the main studio. She felt Eryn’s light touch in the center of her back. “It’s Tamarik.”

  “I can smell it. How is that possible?” She raised her hand to touch the canvas and Eryn moved beside her. Gently but firmly, she placed her hand on Sorrel’s wrist.

  “Don’t,” Eryn said. A quiet uneasiness reverberated in her voice. “I need to tell you something first.”

  “What?” The ghostly white walls reflected what little light filtered in from the windows and Sorrel’s eyes had adjusted enough to make out the lines of her friend’s face.

  “You know Peter’s my cousin,” Eryn said.

  “Yes.”

  “And you know Cai—the chief—is his older brother.”

  “No, I didn’t know that.” Sorrel concentrated on Eryn’s words. Where was she going with this?

  “Well he is, which also makes him my cousin.”

  “All right,” Sorrel said warily.

  Eryn glanced at the door. “It’s a really long story how I came to work for Peter. But I don’t…just work for Peter. I observe his operation, gather information and I give it to Cai.” Even in the milky shadows of the room, Sorrel could see the pain on Eryn’s face and hear the tentative fear in her words. Was she afraid of Sorrel's judgment? Or of being discovered by Peter? The images from her vision of Eryn’s death swelled and crested in her mind, crashing over her.

  “You have to get out of here. If he finds out you’re a spy, and he will find out. He will kill you. I’ve seen it.” Her voice crescendoed and panic ballooned in her chest. Eryn stepped forward and pressed her hand over Sorrel's lips.

  “I know,” Eryn whispered. “I wanted to tell you as soon as I found out your loyalties were with the queen, but I couldn’t.”

  “You know?” Sorrel peeled Eryn’s hand from her mouth.

  “Of course I know. I read you pretty deeply those first few days. Not for Peter though. For me. I needed to know if I could trust you.”

  “And he has no idea.”

  “No. I’d be dead if he did.”

  Sorrel took a step back and rubbed her fingers across her forehead. “Why are you telling me this? If he read me, it would be the end of both of us.”

  “I know that.” Eryn’s brow furrowed. “But he’s never gonna read you. One, he’s too lazy and two, you’ll be gone.”

  “What do you mean I’ll be gone. Where am I going?”

  Eryn took Sorrel’s wrist and pivoted her so she was staring at the dark painting. “You’re going home.”

  “How?”

  “This painting will take you there. I’ve been in contact with Cai. He’s opened the fold around Tamarik to this location, so you can pass through. All you have to do is step through.”

  A slight creaking sound, and the clacking of wood echoed from the painting as if the wind were blowing through the tree branches. How could this be? Her hand floated up, not quite skimming the canvas. A prickling thrum raced through her fingers and up her arm, vibrating to her bones, pulling her hand towar
ds it.

  They were all there—fire, water, earth, metal and wood—and she could feel them passing through her skin, as her fingers touched the painting. The air in her lungs stagnated for a moment as she held her breath.

  Her blood hummed in her ears, and she finally pressed against it with her fingers first, and her hand passed through it to the other side. A blast of icy air whipped around her fingers and their tips tingled from the cold. She dragged her arm downward, kneeling, letting her arm descend into the image up to her elbow. Something brushed against her hand, and her heart leapt into her throat. She grabbed at whatever it was and yanked. It didn’t give right away but she tugged hard until it broke. She pulled her hand out of the painting and opened her fingers. A long blade of brown grass laid on her flattened palm. The ice covering it melted against Sorrel’s warm skin, dripping down her wrist, leaving a puddle on the floor.

  Jorgen’s and Raemah’s faces drifted into her head, and tears coated the back of her throat. She swallowed them back, but her voice still trembled as she spoke.

  “Egan will kill my friends if I fail him.” Anguish mushroomed inside her, threatening to bury her. “Leaving here would mean certain death for them.”

  Eryn knelt beside her, placing her warm hand in the center of Sorrel’s back “No. Cai wouldn’t let that happen. I’m sure of it.”

  “Why would he care? I’m no one to him,” Sorrel snapped unable to hold back the tears.

  “That’s not true. He wouldn’t risk my position here if you weren’t important.”

  Sorrel sat down on the cold floor cross legged. She put her head in her hands and rocked back and forth. What was she supposed to do? Stay and keep Jorgen and Raemah alive? Or go home and hope the queen would help her rescue them?

  “Damn Egan,” Eryn said under her breath. “I don’t know why Peter keeps him around. He’s such a…” She didn’t finish her thought out loud. “What about the queen. You trust her don’t you? She would help.”

  “Yes, she would help but she would have to convince the chief. The place they’re in is heavily guarded. They would have to take troops. Unless…”

  “What?”

  “You,” Sorrel lifted her head, steadying her gaze on Eryn’s darkened face. “You could go with me. Convince him. After everything you’ve seen, he would listen to you.”

  “Sorrel, I—I—don’t know. I—” Eryn glanced at the door again.

  Sorrel grabbed Eryn’s arm, making her look at her. “He will kill you if you stay.”

  “But you said—”

  “I said what I see can be changed by your actions. If you stay he will kill you. Come with me. We’ll both be safe, and then we can work on the chief together. They grow food in the camp to feed Ethavia and the other conquered realms. Maybe if he knew that...”

  Even in the shadows Sorrel could see Eryn’s wet eyes. Eryn’s lips pressed into a hard line and she got to her feet.

  “Come on.” She held out her hand and Sorrel took it. She rose from the floor and they clasped hands, turning to face the painting together. “I don’t know exactly how this works.”

  Sorrel squeezed her hand and adjusted the messenger bag on her body. She moved towards the painting but Eryn pulled her back.

  “Wait,” Eryn’s voice trembled with panic and she dropped Sorrel’s hand.

  The lock jangled behind them, and before they could move, the door pushed open. The lights over the paintings flickered on again, blinding them both for a moment. A guardsman pulled his baton and aimed it at them.

  “What's going on in here?” he said, his voice harsh and full of accusation.

  The world slowed down and sped up at the same time. Sorrel’s gaze went from the guardsman to the painting and then to Eryn.

  Eryn pivoted her body so her back was to the guardsman, and her face crumpled. She closed her eyes for a long second before opening them again and mouthing the words, “Please forgive me.” Eryn took a step back, “Arrest her. I caught her trying to escape.”

  The guardsman reached for her and she got half way through the painting before he got hold of her and yanked her back. He pinned her to the ground and twisted her arms behind her back, binding them together with a thin piece of jute. He lifted her to her feet as if she weighed nothing and pushed her forward. Eryn walked beside him and Sorrel was glad she could not see her face.

  They marched up to the mansion, through the darkened hallways to Peter's office.

  “You know you really should wait till morning,” Eryn said. “Peter doesn't like to be woken in the middle the night over trivial things. You could just lock her up for now. “

  “I appreciate your input Miss Hill. But the emperor has left specific orders about anyone who leaves the premises without permission,” the guardsman said. He barked an order to one of the guardsman on hall duty to fetch the emperor.

  “Now we wait.” He let go of Sorrel pushing her next to the wall, aiming his baton at her. Eryn stood to his left a little bit behind him, she folded her arms across her chest and stared at her feet.

  After a while, Sorrel wasn't sure how long, Peter and the other guardsman appeared.

  “This had better be good,” Peter snapped as he waved his baton across the lock and pushed open the door to his office. The guardsman wrapped his tight fist around Sorrel's arm again and jerked her forward inside the room.

  “Well?” Dark circles rimmed Peter’s eyes, almost like he’d been punched. He raked his fingers through his disheveled hair and scratched his scalp.

  “I was doing a perimeter check sir and found these two in your private studio,” the guard said.

  Peter’s eyes narrowed first at the guardsman and then at Eryn.

  “Is that what happened?” Peter asked Eryn.

  “Yes,” Eryn said. “I heard a noise and when I went to Sorrel's room I found she was out of bed. So I went looking for her. I found her in Har—uh, I mean your studio in front of the painting to Tamarik.”

  “What?” Peter’s voice dropped an octave and he glanced at the guardsman. “Unbind her.”

  “Sir?” Lindsay said.

  “Did you misunderstand me?” he growled.

  “No Sir,” Lindsay said. His wide flat face clenched as he removed the jute from Sorrel’s wrists.

  “Now leave us.”

  Lindsay bowed his head and left the room.

  Peter paced for full minute, working himself into a frenzy, before finally speaking. “Sorrel is this true?”

  Sorrel's cheeks filled with heat. There were many things she was good at but out right lying was not one of them. For the first time in her life she wished she still stuttered. If she gave away Eryn’s true purpose, all she would be doing is sentencing them both to death. It was enough to have Jorgen’s and Raemah’s blood on her hands, she would not take on Eryn’s too. Sorrel stared at her feet and whispered, “Yes.”

  “Are you unhappy here?” He moved right in front of her.

  “I—I just want to go home,” she croaked. How could Eryn have done this to her? Now not only would Jorgen and Raemah die, but she would too.

  Peter sighed and tipped her chin up so he could look into her eyes. “I know it's hard being away from your friends and family. But I really had hoped you would come to think of this place as your home.”

  “I – I,” she started but didn't know how to finish. A tear leaked from her eye leaving an itchy trail down her cheek. He frowned, his gaze raking over her body before stopping at her hips.

  “I need to see your bag,” Peter said.

  “Peter she didn’t have anything to take, just drawing paper and pens. Are we really going to be that petty about pens?” It amazed Sorrel how easily Eryn spoke, how steady her voice was. Was it just from dealing with him every day? Or maybe she really never was a friend.

  “Then there's nothing to hide is there?” Peter said giving Eryn a pointed look.

  “No,” Eryn said weakly. “I guess not.”

  Sorrel pulled the strap over her head and hande
d the bag to Peter. He opened the flap and rifled through the papers.

  “What is this?” He pulled out a sealed envelope.

  “I don't know?” Sorrel said. Eryn shifted next to her and Sorrel gave her a sideways glance. All the color had drained from Eryn's cheeks.

  “All right,” Peter said too calmly. “Let's find out shall we?”

  He dug his thumb between the flap of the envelope and the simple wax seal that had no design. He opened it and pulled out several small sheets of folded paper. Written in some sort of symbolic code. Peter rifled through each page his eyes going from top to bottom right to left as if he was trying to figure out what it meant.

  “You write in symbols. What does this mean?” He shoved the papers towards her.

  Sorrel shook her head. “I don't know.”

  “I don't believe you Sorrel,” Peter said. “Have you ever seen this Eryn?” He handed them to Eryn and she studied them as if she had never seen them before.

  “I haven't, but it looks like some sort of code. What does it mean?”

  “I don't know. I’m very disappointed in you Sorrel. If this turns out to be what I think it is I'm not going to be able to protect you any longer.”

  “Protect me from what?” Sorrel said looking up at him.

  “The consequences of your actions. If you tell me what this is it might mitigate things for you. But if you continue to lie…” His voice rose on the last sentence, the carefully contained rage boiling just under the surface

  “I'm not lying,” Sorrel protested.

  “I don't believe you,” Peter said through gritted teeth. His eyes darkened and he was clearly losing patience.

  “Read me. If you don’t believe me,” Sorrel begged. “Read me and you'll know.”

  “Eryn,” Peter said, gesturing towards Sorrel. “Read her. Go deep.”

  “Peter—” Eryn started. But the withering look Peter gave her stopped her protest. Eryn turned and stared directly at her. Every trace of empathy was gone. Eryn closed her eyes for a moment, took a deep breath and blew it out through her mouth. “A guardsman gave her the notes.”