Awakening (The Guardari Chronicles Book 1)

by Raven Bouray

  Not this time.

  He should have anticipated her attempt at escape. But perhaps he just misjudged the range of her hearing. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had done so. Emmaline touched her hand to her horse’s neck and she pulled Arya around. As soon as she had turned around, Emmaline dug her heels into the horse’s sides and they took off in the opposite direction. At first she braced herself for the inevitable blockade, but this time, there was no hand to stop her.

  They leapt forward into the tall grass and the wind whipped and roared around them. Grass parted and slapped at her arms, legs, and face. She just had to go south and west. Find the road and head back down it. How hard could that be? She was sure she heard her father’s voice the way that she rode. But now with the pounding of Arya’s hooves, she couldn’t hear anything else.

  Emmaline thought about slowing down but shook the idea off. If she slowed down, he would definitely catch her. He would be counting on her slowing down to listen, so she had to do the opposite of that. In fact, she was so worried about being captured once more that she was paying very little attention to the area around her. Emmaline glanced back as she held onto Arya’s mane to look for him when the ground dipped suddenly. There was a moment when her entire body lifted from the mare’s pale back and she lost her balance. Fear suffused her as she tumbled off of her galloping horse and hit the ground hard. Pain exploded through her lower half as her left hip hit the solid earth, and she was sure that she screamed. But it might have been lost to the air as she rolled and hit the other hip and knee as well. A burning pain sliced up her left arm as she came to a stop. When it was over, she ended up flat on her back and staring up at the white clouds as they drifted through the open sky while pain throbbed through her with every heartbeat and underneath the physical pain the knowledge that she had failed her escape once more.

  Her feeling of defeat only intensified when the soft and unhurried footfalls of her captor echoed near as his boots crunched on the broken grass. It was as if he knew that she would fail. He didn’t even find her newest attempt worrisome enough to even make him run after her. She wanted to scream and yell and throw things at him like a child. How dare he make her feel this way?

  When his shadow fell across her prone form, she closed her eyes against it to will him away. “Wha’ oi say ta ye?” When she didn’t answer, she felt and heard his body shift and felt him lean over her. “Ye did this on ye. Do ta hear me?”

  Her jaw clenched and she whipped her uninjured arm off of the ground to strike at him. But all she found was empty air as he leapt back and out of the way. “Stuff it up your arse, you bastard.” She ground out and her insult was met with a chuckle.

  “Ye ‘ave mouth, do ye?”

  “No.” She huffed petulantly. “Why won’t you let me leave?” Her tone wavered at the end as tears threatened to escape. No. She would not cry now. She couldn’t cry now.

  “Oi say ye. Oi will take ye wit’ me. May it time ta hear, no?” She tried to fight him as he picked her up off the ground but found her leg all but useless in her endeavor and so she let him carry her back to Arya and put her up like a doll on her horse’s back. “Pain teach ye?”

  “Yes. To get better at hitting you.” She cradled her arm across her chest and gingerly poked at her injured hip. Pain greeted her gentle prods, and she decided to abandon it for now.

  “Tha’ will never ‘appen,” he taunted.

  And so Emmaline did something very unladylike in that moment and spat at him. Her aim fell woefully short, but the message was given rather clearly, and so he merely turned from her and began walking once more.

  Emmaline tried to hear for her father again for the rest of the day but not a whisper of his voice even registered to her. It was too late.

  Night fell slowly as they entered an area separate from the tall grasses and into shorter grass and sparse woods. It was at that halfway point that they finally stopped for the night.

  Her captor tried to help her off of Arya’s back and was met with a booted foot. The heel of said boot connected with a glancing blow to his shoulder, and he left her alone. Which was a mistake. One she knew the moment that her soles touched the ground but her pride was too injured to admit it.

  Pain shot down her hip and thigh as she moved, so she tried not to go far. A downed tree a few paces away made for as good a resting spot as any and she eased herself down. The light of day was fading fast, and Emmaline knew that she had to at least look at her injury before nightfall. With a quick glance in her captor’s direction, she noted his turned back and lifted up her rough wool shirt and found what used to be cream colored skin turned black and blue with bruising. It extended from her hip bone up to mid torso, and she was sure it went at least halfway down her leg. Her left arm was also bruised slightly as she pulled up the sleeve, and several cuts marred the skin there as well.

  The waterskin at her right hip had somehow made it through her fall unscathed so she uncorked it to wash the cuts. Strangely enough, the waterskin felt just as heavy as it had when he had first given it to her. And the water was cool and clear was it washed over her lower arm, taking blood, dirt and grass with it to drip onto the dark earth.

  Her captor walked past her then and dropped a small sack at her side as he continued on. Emmaline pulled her sleeve back down and picked up the sack to find the remaining apple and cheese that she had received in the last village. It must have fallen when she had tried to run away.

  She had to temper her gratitude with her anger. Etiquette told her that she should thank him for his thoughtfulness. But he was also keeping her prisoner and kept sending her so many different signals on his mood that she thought he may be two different people. So she did the only thing that made sense to her in the moment and that was to stay silent and ignore him as soundly as she could.

  Dinner then consisted of a single apple and the rest of the cheese washed down with the water, which was still full and tasted as clear and cool as if it would have been fresh from a well instead of sitting in a leather bag all day in the heat. And if she were speaking to him that would have been a question but as she refused to speak to him or interact with him at all, then her curiosity would just have to go unsated.

  Chapter 17

  Their night ended in silence and every night after into the next week of traveling. Not a word had passed between them since the night of her injury. With each day, her mood grew darker and the hopeless feeling that had started since only worsened, building as a river fed too much rain.

  Each day they woke, mounted up, and rode until midday, when they rested, drank water, and ate whatever foraged food they had from the night before. Then walked on until near sunset, when they stopped for the night and foraged for food for the night and next day. Emmaline had taken what little she knew of edible plants with her and her captor had allowed her some leeway around the designated campsite to find her own sustenance. She seemed to have a natural instinct for it despite her relatively sheltered upbringing.

  They had been traveling steadily north and east, crossing mostly field and farmland with sparse woods spread throughout, somehow also avoiding nearly all other people, all roads, and any villages. And if there were any sparse houses, they kept a wide berth around those as well.

  As for the aftermath of her tumble, her bruises had faded from angry black and blue to sickly yellow. The first few days had been the worst and every step and movement was greeted with a fresh wave of pain. By the fourth day, her hip had reduced to a throb that only bothered her when she moved a certain way.

  Now though, she was riding Arya, and it was midday based on the position of the sun across the sky. The grass was thinner now than it had been days previous, the ground rockier and harder, and Emmaline realized that they had reached the edge of the Barren Wilds. It was a vast stretch of rock crags, canyons, and treacherous caves that took even the quickest, most seasoned, and adventurous of travellers at least a couple weeks at best to navigate from one side to the other. And that w
as even based on the stability of the rock, the status of caves, and if there had been any recent activity in the area. Even from week to week, the path would change and sometimes even while they were being moved through.

  It was risky to even think about treading through it on foot and down into the depths therein. Most people, with proper fare of course, crossed the bridge. It spanned the length of the canyon and the old thing was hardly worth being called a bridge anymore. It jumped from tall rock stack to rock stack in a zig zagged pattern until you exited on the road that led straight to the capital.

  And even that route took a day or two to travel in most cases.

  But that would be too easy to merely take the bridge across. Emmaline knew that her captor most likely still had some coin to spare for the trip but then he would leave people and witnesses. By now her kidnapping would most likely be news. News would be bad for him.

  And so they were most likely going down into the very unstable canyon. And it would be another week or two at least in such fine company. But at least there looked to be an end in sight. In the capital no one could be hooded, from old to young, disfigured and beautiful both, and so they would be caught. There was no other way to get across the Half Sea. Only the Seareach bridge spanned the entire width and it was only accessible through two gates with tolls. That much she knew.

  But until then, she was filthy and probably smelled like a pig pen. The only bright side was her never emptying water bag. It had to have been enchanted to remain full no matter how much water had been removed. A few times she had emptied the entire thing out to the last drop, replaced the lid, removed it and found just as much water in it as before. After that, she had been tempted to break her self imposed silence, remove the cold shoulder that blocked him off from her but she resisted. She would find her own answers. Eventually.

  The only thing that worried her about their impending descent into the Wilds was Arya. The paths were often narrow and steep. It was no place for a horse. But the thought of leaving her best and only friend somewhere else to possibly be stolen or sold left her cold inside. But she would rather that than kill her by taking her down. Emmaline had also wondered if they were going to try to bypass the Wild canyon and just follow it down and through the rocky desert eastbound.

  The Wilds spanned miles across and cut through a good portion of Brecirin, ending a few miles south of the capital. It was thinner nearer the eastern edge of the continent. Most people chose to lengthen their journeys by a week or two to avoid the worst of the Wilds.

  She was interrupted in her musings by a familiar but odd voice. And with the constant silence, it took her a moment to process it.

  Her eyes locked on the back of her captor’s head. “Ye know where we are, yes? This place is no’ good. Magic lays deep ‘ere.”

  Emmaline could only stare slack jawed at him. His accent still poured through but his words were as clear as her mirror back home. None of those broken sentences and half words she had to attempt to decipher.

  “We get as much we can. Then ‘ead ou’. No’ that there is much ‘ere.” They pulled up to a stop, and he turned around to look at her through his hood. “There’s a village a bit west of here abou’ ‘alf a days ride. Do ye wan’ ta come or stay?”

  Emmaline knew that her jaw was still wide open, and her mind sought to form proper thoughts and words to answer him. “You trust me to stay here?” Her voice even sounded a bit odd after not using it for a while.

  “No’. But ye are in place ye don’ know at least a week an half from home. I don’t thin’ ye will go far.” His ‘I’ still sounded much like the oi she was used to but still astounded her.

  Emmaline realized that he was trying to offer her the illusion of a choice. Perhaps it was his way of apologizing. Of course, an actual apology would be better, but Emmaline took what she could. And seeing someone else other than her captor might do her some good. “Fine. Let’s go.”

  He grunted his agreement and they turned westward to follow the sun that would set into the horizon.

  Chapter 18

  When small structures came into view on the horizon, Emmaline was quite confused. The buildings looked to be made of stone, but there were none of the usual sounds coming from them. No children laughing or crying. No sounds of chicken or cattle. Certainly no people. It was as if everyone who had ever lived there had vanished suddenly in a puff of smoke. It wasn’t until Emmaline and her captor drew closer that she began to hear much of anything. Quiet voices, the scrape of feet on rock, and the occasional sound of a tool hitting something solid.

  Closer still and most of the homes looked abandoned -- roofs falling in on some, windows broken, doors rattling on rusty hinges. The whole atmosphere gave her chills. Why anyone would live here was beyond her.

  If she remembered correctly and if they were in the place she assumed they were from the direction they had taken, this used to be a city named the Emerald Eye. From the size it had been once, this seemed likely. They passed by many empty homes along the edge of the town until reaching closer to the center.

  Emerald Eye was aptly named, as it was famous for the emeralds that were mined from a short distance away. The town was rich and prosperous, or at least well off, when the green gemstones flowed freely from the caves. But the city sat right near the edge of the Wilds. In fact, if she cared to look, the sheer cliff edge was hardly more than 100 paces away at best.

  As her history teacher had taught her among their many lessons, the Barren Wilds had been good to the village up until it wasn’t. The story had been that the ground shifted suddenly and killed nearly a fourth of the town’s workers in a massive cave in. The king at the time, her great grandfather, had tried to mount a rescue attempt, but without the use of the mages, it was an impossible task. Mages had trouble here. Magic was unpredictable so close to the Wilds. And without the money from the emeralds, the town quickly lost both people and coin.

  Obviously not everyone had left the town, because now she spotted figures in windows and torches along the houses therein.

  They continued along the row of houses with her captor being seemingly unaffected. Dust kicked up from the ground beneath them and she wondered how these people managed to scrape a living by in this place. There was no farmland that she could see on the way in but there must be something that made this place worth living here for.

  When they stopped and her captor left her side to enter a house, Emmaline watched after him, confused. It wasn’t until she looked up that she found a small sign far above the door that signaled this place as a kind of shop front.

  Not one to be left behind alone in such an unsafe feeling place, she quickly dismounted and followed him in.

  Strong, sweet smelling smoke drifted around the room as she stepped inside. The door shut with a small click behind her, and she looked around the general store. It had some of everything on the shelves, even though it was little bigger than the other one or two room homes that they had passed by earlier.

  Cooking supplies hung and sat along one part of the wall, on another soaps and creams for bathing, another shelf and rod held clothing, while another had camping supplies. Food took up most of the bins and space in the store. As she walked down the aisle, there was hardly any space between the shelves.

  As she walked slowly along to browse the shelves, she couldn’t help but stop in front of the shelves that held soaps and a wave of longing swept through her body when she spotted her favorite scent. It had been nearly two weeks since she had a bath. Two long weeks. For someone who loved to soak in milky warm baths for hours, it had been near torture for the layer of dirt and dust to settle on her skin.

  Turning from the temptation of lotion and emollients, she lifted her gaze and watched her captor make his way through each section, pick and choosing things with efficiency and placing them into a wicker basket.

  Plates, flint, some clothing, and things that look vaguely edible were what she could see in his possession now. He disappeared down the next ai
sle, and she turned away. More browsing and soft footfalls brought her to the assortment of food. Dull yellow, red, and purple vegetables and fruits did nothing to stimulate her appetite. She turned away from the bins and walked along the edge of the building toward the back.

  “Find what you are looking for?” A middle aged women greeted her from behind the counter.

  Emmaline was about to reply when her captor’s voice called from the middle of store, “In a way.”

  “You going to go through the Wilds again? There’s been a bit of shifting since ya been here last. You won’t be able to go the same way as ya came. The beasts are also a bit restless.” The last bit seemed like something of an afterthought for her, Emmaline thought.

  “I canna go the safe way, ye know tha’.”