Hope Betrayed: The Silent Tempest, Book 2

by E. J. Godwin

  Telai spent the afternoon sitting on a fallen elm near the edge of the woods, relaxing in the peaceful solitude. Evening approached; the sun peeked out beneath streaks of cloud, and raindrops lingering on the grass blades glimmered like stars. A warbler singing in the treetops painted a wistful smile on her face, until finally it darted out across the gathering dusk.

  She watched it vanish into the south, her smile fading. She had achieved more than even Ressolc or Acallor had at her age, yet here she was out in the middle of nowhere, spreading her wings as if for the very first time. This is where she belonged, far removed from the mind-numbing duties so many people expected of her, where the mountains and the sky itself had witnessed the unfolding of history.

  A soft crunch from behind interrupted her reverie. “I was about to come wake you,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  Soren stood beside her without saying a word—always loath to reveal any weakness, she thought bitterly. “There’s a small brook past the other side of the trees,” he said at last. “I’ve fed and watered your horse.”

  “You’re still determined to leave tonight?”

  “Yes. We should approach Waystop under cover of darkness.” He sat next to her. “How much did Caleb Stenger tell you about what’s happened?”

  She turned to face him. “There wasn’t time. All I know is Warren was healed at Graxmoar.”

  “It’s best you hear the full tale now,” he said. “There’s still enough light left. We may not get another chance to talk before—well, before you see him again.”

  A sudden weight of dread fell into her stomach. “What do you mean?”

  “In a moment. We need to clear something up first. Why has the Grand Loremaster of Ada ventured so far from Ekendoré?”

  Telai glared at him. Everywhere she went she kept hearing the same old story about her responsibilities. She felt trapped, a prisoner shackled by an invisible chain. Yet there was no accusation in Soren’s eyes, only a desire for the truth—the same desire Acallor had nurtured when she was a rudderless teenage girl. To ask this man to put his loyalty aside, even for her, was to ask him to stop being the man she admired.

  She took a deep breath, forcibly calming herself before she answered. “I needed to confirm the Medallion.” She waved her hand to dismiss the response forming on his lips. “I’m not doubting your word, Soren. Or your knowledge of the Yrsten Prophecy. It’s a requirement of my position.” She searched his expression. “Does Caleb still have it?”

  “Yes,” he answered, his stare unwavering.

  Telai suddenly felt less like a scholar and more like a girl caught skipping school. “This is where I’m supposed to be, Soren. Deep down I know it. When Mother told me about the Rite of Exile, and how Caleb and Warren had to leave Ada, I … ” she began, then shrugged. “I don’t know how to explain it. Perhaps leaving wasn’t the smartest thing to do. But I couldn’t bear to stay holed up in Gerentesk without knowing what had happened to them.” She smiled. “I heard how you stood up for Caleb.”

  “It was my duty.”

  She sat up straight. “I suppose you think I’ve shirked my own.”

  “You made the same decision I did, though for different reasons. Only time will tell if it was the right one—for both of us.”

  “And Caleb? What choices has he made?”

  “Ones he will have to answer for, I’m afraid. You’ll understand when I’m finished.”

  He told her all that had transpired since Udan, keeping his voice low as the dusk slowly deepened into night. Telai did her best to listen with the ears of a Loremaster, yet each new revelation intensified the battle in her heart. And when Soren finally reached that fateful evening near Tnestiri where Caleb revealed his secret quest, nothing remained of the scholar. All that remained was the woman who had left Ekendoré to find the man she loved, the man she so desperately wanted to trust. By the time Soren finished with their harrowing escape down the river, Telai had bowed her head to hide the raging storm.

  It took her a moment to realize Soren was asking her a question. “I’m sorry … what were you saying?”

  “I was wondering if you had any message from the Overseer. We heard a few rumors in Enilií about a warrant for my arrest.”

  “Great Hendra, no. Even she wouldn’t go that far!”

  “I didn’t think so. But there’s got to be more than gossip behind this.”

  “It’s Caleb she wants arrested, not you,” she blurted, tears stinging her eyes. “It was only to calm hotheads like Joásen from—” She clamped her mouth shut, unnerved by the depth of her anger.

  “Telai,” said Soren, “there’s no need to apologize. I will judge my father’s actions as his superior, not as his son. He has almost as much to answer for as the man he sent into exile.”

  Telai nodded. For Soren’s sake, she hoped she would never stand face to face with that old man again.

  “There’s something I haven’t told you yet,” Soren added. The last daylight had nearly faded, but it was enough to reveal his reluctance. “Caleb Stenger didn’t find the Yrsten Medallion. Warren did.”

  A long minute passed, her mind unwilling to accept his words. “How can that be?” she whispered.

  “I asked Caleb Stenger about it. He dug it out of the grass, but Warren spotted it first.”

  “No! That’s not enough to go on, Soren. Not for something this important!”

  “Perhaps. Those cursed Prophets weren’t any help, that’s for sure. The only thing they told us is that one of us is the Bringer foretold by Orand.”

  Soren told her what little he had discovered from their archives, but Telai barely listened. Warren the Bringer of Evil? Impossible!

  He glanced up at the emerging stars. “Before we head out, there’s one last thing you need to understand. If Caleb Stenger returns to Ada, he will have to face Judgment again. As his friend I will give him a choice: to accept his exile and leave Ada forever, or answer to the Council of Nine. But as Supreme Raén I’m honor-bound to abide by their decision.”

  His words cut through her, sharper than any sword. Soren’s offer wasn’t really a choice. She knew Caleb too well for that. The man who had fallen from the stars would accept no other option but to stand in Larientur again, if only because he loved her. She had spent so much anger railing against those who had taken his choices away—Joásen, Garda, the Hodyn—even Soren in his own way. Now she had followed Caleb into the wilderness, making it clear what he would be sacrificing if he left Ada for good.

  Soren gave her shoulder a little shake. “We’ve spent enough time on this for now,” he said. “The best thing is to be up and about. We need food and horses.”

  Telai followed him back. “I’m not surprised you didn’t have any luck in Outway. All the villagers I talked to were either uncooperative or just plain rude.”

  Her limbs were stiff from sitting so long, and Soren caught her as she stumbled over a log. “They’re a suspicious folk living so far away from their countrymen,” he said. “Poor, too. Only one horse in the entire village.”

  “Perhaps we’ll do better in the next town.”

  “We should. Waystop is the northernmost port of Trethrealm’s vineyard territory—where money flows like wine, as the saying goes.”

  ♦

  The waxing moon shining through the half-naked boughs provided barely enough light for them to saddle Eiveya. Telai sat behind Soren as he took the reins, and they headed back out and turned left down the muddy road.

  With Trethrealm’s harvest well past, the road lay empty for miles. The heather-strewn landscape gradually lifted into long, shallow ridges, their moonlit slopes thick with vineyards. Far to the east stood the foothills of the Lorgdir, an occasional gap in the clouds revealing the snow-capped peaks beyond.

  Soren kept a sharp lookout, tensing whenever the road turned a corner or crested a tall ridge. After an hour or so a deep valley opened up at their feet, at the bottom of which a wide river like a silver ribbon chattered and gu
rgled beneath an arched stone bridge. Soren drew to a halt, scanned the area, then pointed right to where a cart trail twisted its way along the ridge.

  “Will that get us to Waystop?” Telai asked.

  “I don’t know. But we should get off the main road. Most of the town sits on the north bank of the river, so there’s no point crossing two bridges out in the open. The sky’s clearing, and the moon is too bright for my liking.”

  They followed the trail as it meandered along the crest of the river-valley. As time passed, however, Telai noticed how Soren kept snapping his head up, or sitting straight as if to keep his bearings.

  Just as Telai made up her mind to speak he slid off and fell to the ground. “Soren!” she cried, and groped for the reins to bring Eiveya to a halt.

  The Master Raén sat in the half-dried mud shaking his head. “Fell asleep,” he muttered as Telai dropped beside him.

  She set her hand across his brow. “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you say something?”

  “Must have caught it from Warren.” Eiveya towered above them, a patient shadow against the stars. “Can you manage from here? We should be getting close to Waystop in a few hours. Just keep a sharp lookout. Anybody out on a cart road in the middle of the night is suspect.”

  “Like us?” Telai helped him up, and with a grunt and a heave hoisted him into the saddle. She resumed her place behind him, reaching around for the reins. “Lean to one side a little so I can see. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.”

  They started off again. It wasn’t long before Soren slumped against her, his chest rising and falling in a deep sleep.

  The moon had ridden well past the zenith by the time the first lights of Waystop appeared. The river made a wide bend to the left, tumbled down a long slope for a few miles, then resumed its course toward the sea. The cart road followed, widening until it lost itself between the dim silhouettes of houses and shops at the eastern edge of town ahead.

  Soren stirred, and Telai shifted her aching arms to accommodate him. “Angle off to the right,” he murmured, barely audible above the noise of the rapids.

  “Here?” she hissed. “Why?”

  He pointed to an old, abandoned barn rising against the northern sky. Part of the roof had caved in; its wide doors leaned to either side, half rotted and torn away from the track and rollers. “We need to take shelter first. I’ll explain once we get settled.”

  Telai guided Eiveya off the trail, carefully navigating the tussocks of grass and low thickets to avoid any hidden rocks or rabbit holes. She halted just outside the weatherbeaten doors, and with Soren's arm over her shoulders helped him stagger in through the opening.

  Moonlight shining through the roof revealed a mass of rusted equipment and molding piles of straw, all half buried beneath a tumble of broken beams and shingles. An old feed trough stood to one side. They flipped it over, and Soren sat to rest while Telai brought Eiveya inside.

  “Leave her saddled,” he croaked as Telai hooked a nose bag over the halter. “I’m going to have to depend on you to get the supplies we need—at least until I can shake this nasty fever Warren blessed me with.”

  She crouched near and placed her hand on his forehead again. “Medicine first. The sooner you’re on your feet the sooner we’ll be out of here.”

  “Now you’re thinking like a Raén. Leave whatever food and water you can spare. Do you have enough money?”

  “I think so. It’s the horses I’m worried about.”

  “Buy three if you can afford it. Riding double will slow us down if we need to make a run for it.” He peered up through the broken roof. “It’ll be daylight soon. You look a little too high-bred for my peace of mind. Perhaps a more vagrant style will beat the Hodyn at their own game.”

  She replaced her fur-lined coat with an old tattered cloak of Soren’s, and removed the silver clip from her braid. “Sit close,” he said, and proceeded to smear her face with dirt scraped from the barn floor.

  “I hope you didn’t put something nasty on me like rat droppings,” she said, tousling her hair to look the part. “And I hope, by Hendra, this disguise doesn’t attract the wrong kind of attention!”

  “And the beautiful Grand Loremaster of Ada wouldn’t? Besides, there are other reasons you should be careful. Do you have a knife?” She nodded, blushing a little at his compliment. “I’ll need some idea of the city’s layout,” he added, “but don’t wander too far to figure it out. Act normal, buy your medicine, and come back here as soon as you can. We’ll worry about getting the horses later.”

  “We can’t spend a lot of time at it, Soren. It’s a half day’s ride back to the campsite at least, and they need food more than we do—especially Warren.”

  “Caleb Stenger will have to remember his training,” he answered. “Now that the rain’s passed he should be able to find enough to sustain them until we get back.”

  “I hope you’re right. Meanwhile, get some sleep. What kind of medicine do they sell around here?”

  “I’d prefer a big mug of yrgona, but I doubt you’ll find any. Ask for a concoction the Trethan mariners use. It’s called waliwah.”

  ♦

  The eastern sky began to pale by the time Telai reached the edge of town. The trail widened into a street filled with half-dried furrows and hoof prints. Business was already stirring; an ox-drawn wagon ambled through the first crossing ahead, and a few errand boys ran clattering down the boardwalks. Telai hoped she wasn’t too unusual a sight, riding into town from a cart trail just before dawn.

  Though most of the buildings were in good repair, one exception stood out on the far left corner: a tiny little shop with the name Efan’s Elixirs in faded gold paint above the awning. With its peeling clapboards and patched roof it had the distinct air of having seen the last of its best years.

  Telai stopped. A display shelf cluttered with various bottles and boxes stood inside the window. Reacting to a sudden impulse, she dropped down, hitched Eiveya to the porch rail, and walked up to the door. Hinges creaked; a musty, spice-laden odor assaulted her nostrils, and she stopped in the dim light to get her bearings.

  Every available space was taken up with shelves, all piled with a confusing assortment of dust-covered packages, jars, and strange instruments. Telai started forward, turning sideways to keep from bumping into things, until she reached a small counter at the back. An old hound in the corner roused at her approach, gave a sad little howl, then lowered his head with a groan.

  A shuffle of steps announced the arrival of a short man with a dark dome of closely-cropped hair. He took a swig from a bottle of wine he was carrying, and thumped it on the counter.

  “Guess I shouldn’t complain about getting customers so early.”

  Telai thought it best to play the game. “Business slow lately?”

  “If by lately you mean the last five years, then yes.”

  “The name on the sign, Efan—that’s you?”

  “Yep. Renamed the place when I bought it from my uncle. Thought it was a good investment until those cursed Srogen Brothers opened up their own apothecary at the south end. They’re squeezing folk out of business all over Trethrealm!”

  “Well, lucky for you I arrived from the east side of town.” she said, then pressed her lips in annoyance. No point revealing more than she needed. “I’m looking for some medicine—waliwah, I believe it’s called. I heard it’s good for fevers.”

  Efan laughed heartily. “You’ve been listening to too many stories, miss.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying it’s a scam?”

  “Big time. You Adaiani are too easy with your money. Gives the rest of us a bad reputation.”

  Telai fell silent, both nettled by his condescending attitude and caught off guard by his recognition of her nationality. She nearly asked him how he knew when she realized her platinum tresses would give her away no matter where she went among the dark-haired Treth. Add a big black mare a full seventeen hands high and there was no avoiding curious stares.r />
  “I suppose you’re one of the rare honest ones,” she said, trying to recover the advantage.

  He shrugged. “Would I be telling you any of this if I wasn’t?”

  “So do you have anything that will help?”

  “Just the thing,” Efan said cheerfully, raising an index finger.

  He hitched himself up over the counter and dropped to the floor beside her. A wave of body odor rose into her face, but she endured it, clamping her mouth shut as she followed him down the aisle along the wall. He stood tiptoe to reach a small bottle on the top shelf, blew the dust off, and handed it to Telai.

  “Spiced wine,” he said. “And I mean spiced. Guaranteed to clear up a cough or fever in no time.”

  “How much?” she asked quickly, still reeling from his foul breath.

  A vacuous smile of yellow, crooked teeth only amplified the effect. “Four and half krel—ten percent discount for pretty girls.”

  Telai shuddered inside, sorely tempted to tell him where to put his discount. “Still a little high,” she said. “But I’ll take it.”

  Efan walked back and slid over the counter again. Telai counted out a few coins from her leather pouch.

  “Anything else?” he asked as he pocketed the money.

  Telai hesitated. “Where’s the best place to buy horses?”

  “And you balked at half a krel? You’ll pay a steep price for horses in these parts, sweetie.”

  Telai clenched her fists below the counter, fighting the urge to reward this buffoon with a mouthful of teeth. “That’s my business. I’m hoping to start a breeding farm.”

  Efan looked her up and down. “Yeah, right. Well, there’s nothing in Outway. Best to try the bigger farms and ranches north along the coast. Logren in particular owns some excellent race horses. He’ll be asking a mighty high price, though—probably even more than you can afford.”

  “Well, it’s a start. Thank you,” she said, and turned immediately for the door, unnerved by the exchange. Her disguise hadn’t fooled him for a second.

  Eiveya was waiting patiently as always. Just as Telai undid the lead rope she caught sight of another rider down the street, past the second crossing. He looked like a Raén, with leather jacket and leggings and a long, curved scabbard at his side, yet he was a bit too stout for a typical Adan soldier. He didn’t seem to have noticed her.