Hushed, Tales of Ryca, Book 2

by Shereen Vedam

  What pleased her most was that Jarrod had chosen to accompany her instead of Saira. That warmed her through to her toes and made her view him with a more appreciative gaze.

  Jarrod was quite handsome, in a dark, studious, and absentminded way. Not the usual type of man who attracted her. Yet, when they’d been alone in Saira’s bedroom, he’d aroused her more than any man she’d ever met.

  She gave him a backward glance. She’d never considered Jarrod as a possible mate, deeming him unsuitable. He was the leader of a mysterious, magical race that disdained mingling with regular pale-skinned Rycans. She’d assumed his people only married other Erovians.

  A pity, considering his deliciousness.

  He was also her mother’s trusted advisor and Saira’s closest friend and devoted follower, which added a dark mark against him right there. She smiled thinking that might be hard to see against his smooth ebony skin.

  Oddly, she often sensed the solid, strong, and purposeful Jarrod tended to avoid being anywhere near her.

  Until now!

  Chapter 4

  Close to dawn, Tamara’s group arrived at the base of the Quinlin Temple. Ancient trees, giants with outstretched branches, had begun to crowd in the open square clearing. Immense steps led upward to the base of the towers. From there, as if aiming for the sky, the twin towers carried the line of sight high up into the clouds.

  Once dismounted, Tamara gave into her worry that she had overly upset her mother by running away with Skye. She requested a blank page from Jarrod and using his magic quill, penned a note about their purpose for this visit and promised to return home soon.

  She tucked the note under the saddle and slapped the horse’s rump. With a startled neigh, it took off. She shouted after it, “Home.”

  The second horse bolted after the first, whipping its reins out of Thyel’s hold. He shook his hand as if it stung. “Why’d you do that?”

  “Sorry for the burn,” she said. “We’re within walking distance of home, so don’t need the horses. Also, if my mother didn’t hear from me, she would slay me.”

  Skye gave her hand an approving squeeze before racing up the steps.

  Tamara estimated there were at least a hundred or so to climb and groaned. Since this place had fallen into disrepair, the stone stairs were covered with moss and overgrown vines. Great chunks of stone were broken and had crumbled in places forcing her to sidestep gaps and turned-up stones.

  A third of the way up, Tamara stopped and rested her hands on her aching thighs. Taking deep breaths, she looked back toward the city. Tibor’s torch-lit streets lined up toward the temple like long arrows of light. That explained why people often said all roads in Tibor lead to Quinlin.

  Some eight hundred years ago, when the city was first built, dragons had served as the central focus of people’s lives. They were the guardians of the city, the keepers of peace, and some even believed the giant creatures helped transport those who died to the Land of eternal Light.

  As a child, she’d always been curious about the past, pestering her father for stories. After he died, and they were on the run, her mother discouraged talk of the past. Afterwards, while she was trapped in the time spell, she’d overheard her uncle ordering all the castle’s old records to be burned, especially anything to do with Ryca’s magical heritage.

  “Jarrod,” she said, “when we have time, would you allow me to look up the history of Tibor in Falcon’s Tome?”

  “If possible, you may,” he said but sounded grave, as if he doubted that time would ever come.

  “Keep up, Tamara,” Thyel called. He and Skye had gone up a dozen steps.

  Her steps lagging, Tamara continued on, disappointed at Jarrod’s lack of enthusiasm. He was protective of his tome but she wouldn’t hurt it. Just read from it.

  A few steps up, movement to the side had her swinging to her right. A lizardy thing was slithering up the trunk of a nearby tree. It stared back at her. It had wild green hair on its head and a long tail, but its body was covered in green-tinted scaly skin. What startled her most was its malevolent glare.

  When it looked as if it would leap toward her, she called out in panic. “Jarrod, Thyel!”

  Skirts held up thirteen-year-old Skye was the first to run back down the giant steps until she reached Tamara’s side. “What’s the matter?”

  Jarrod was there a moment later, his arm wrapping protectively around Tamara. He looked at where she indicated, but the green thing had disappeared into the darkness.

  Tamara turned to insist she’d seen something. The instant their eyes met, she guessed he already believed her. Soothing emotions eased into her mind and a sense of immense safety calmed her nerves.

  How does he do that?

  “What was that thing?” she asked him, for she guessed he’d picked up the picture of the creature from her thoughts. Did he read everyone as easily as he did her?

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

  “You saw it, too?” Skye asked.

  Tamara had to grin as his startled glance took in Skye. Go ahead, she urged him silently, explain your way out of this.

  He released his hold of Tamara and stepped away. “I meant, I hadn’t seen anything.”

  “Oh,” Skye said.

  Liar! Tamara scolded him silently, starting to enjoy this bizarre, silent communication between them.

  Jarrod opened his book to write something, deliberately ignoring her.

  Thyel joined them then, jumping down the last two steps with a thump. He squinted into the surrounding woods. “Don’t know how you can see anything in this darkness.”

  Whatever that green thing had been, it was gone now. “Perhaps it was a lizard.” She tapped Jarrod’s book as she walked past him. “Be sure to note that down. Tamara saw a lizard.”

  She ignored his scowl as she proceeded up the steps. Thyel, chuckling, shadowed her.

  At the top, they all stopped to catch their breath, slumping onto the cold stone floor. Tamara nursed a stitch at her side while taking in the wide landing that housed the pair of identical gray towers.

  A flat open bridge connected the towers at the top. Two stone dragons, tails curling around the bridge and wings unfurled, peered at those wandering below.

  From her seated position, Tamara looked up at the towers with wonder. Had the dragon riders of the past used that wide bridge to dismount before they entered the temple? She pictured herself up there, her dragon’s feet spanning the bridge, claws grasping the edges. She’d pat the beast to indicate she was descending, and then slide down the scaly body until her booted feet thumped onto the landing.

  “The queen said an old keeper guards the temple,” Jarrod said, startling Tamara out of her daydream. “He must live in the left tower. The vines and brush are cleared away from that one the most.”

  Skye the youngest of them, had recovered first, and now raced up to the tower door and knocked. Receiving no answer, she tried the handle. “It’s locked. What do we do now?”

  “Is there a bell chain to announce arrivals?” Tamara asked, reluctantly getting to her aching legs.

  The men joined Skye to search on either side of the door among thick vines.

  “Found it,” Thyel called out and pulled a cord.

  A hollow gong sounded within but they heard no sign of anyone responding.

  “If I climb to that narrow window using those plants for handholds,” Thyel pointed to where sinewy vines grew along the walls, “I could get in and open the door.”

  Before he’d taken a step, though, an iron latch screamed in protest on the inside. The large wooden door scraped the stone floor as it creaked open.

  A thin young lad about Skye’s age, maybe a year older, poked his head around the opening. Sleepily squinting in the dark, he raised his lantern. “What do you want?”

  “We’re looking for Prince Bevan.” Thyel stepped up to the doorway. “He’s nine years old, with shoulder length blond hair. Have you seen him?”

  “We alrea
dy told the queen’s guards, he didn’t come here.” He began to close the door.

  Thyel stopped the motion by jamming his shoulder against the heavy door. “We’d like to look for ourselves.”

  “No outsiders are allowed inside the temple towers,” the young lad said.

  “It says that here,” Jarrod said over Thyel’s shoulder. He was busy flicking through the pages of his book. “I don’t have anything about you being at the temple though. When did you come here? Where’s the keeper?”

  The young lad leaned past Thyel, and raising his lantern he stared at Jarrod. His mouth hung open at seeing one of the fabled Erovians at his temple doorstep. Then he snapped out of his shock and repeated, “No one’s allowed in the temple, Teacher. I’m sorry.” He put his weight into closing the door.

  Thyel took exception and shoved the door open wider.

  The doorkeeper tumbled onto the dusty flagstone floor. His lantern clattered as it crashed and the light died. He scrambled to get back on his feet in the dark entryway. “You’ll be in trouble if you come in!”

  “Will you set your dragons on us?” Thyel asked with a mocking grin as he strolled inside.

  “What’s your name?” Jarrod asked, quill in hand.

  “Fane, sir.”

  Skye stepped forward. She held out her right hand, palm up, and opened her fingers. A ball of Light appeared. It rose and expanded until the room shone as if lit by a hundred candles.

  Fane gasped and staggered backwards, his wide-eyed gaze swinging between Skye and her Light ball.

  Tamara entered last and also stared in silent awe at her niece’s magic before turning her attention to the young lad. “What do you do here, Fane?”

  “You’re…one of the magical princesses!” Fane said, his gaze still glued to Skye.

  Tamara refrained from saying she was a princess, too, if not magical. Wearing Tom’s tunic and trousers probably detracted from her feminine allure. Her glance flew to Jarrod, wondering if he no longer found her as attractive in this garb as he had in her half-untied gown.

  While Skye made introductions, Tamara strolled around the entryway under the glow of her niece’s Light ball. The place was in terrible condition. Someone had attempted to clean up the debris, but the room lacked furniture, carpets, or chandeliers and the hearth wasn’t lit. Despite Skye’s Light, the whole place felt dark and dreary.

  From the size of the tower outside, she’d expected it to be bigger. Then she noticed the two staircases curving up in concentric circles, rising ever upwards. They gave way on occasion to doors positioned along the walls.

  No tapestries or pictures adorned the walls, which looked as if a battering ram had been taken to them. Great big holes let in a cool breeze.

  The two staircases caved-in part way up, with most of the railings torn off. The whole structure had a forsaken feel. Not something she’d want to climb.

  This entryway was like the bottom of a well, with a domed ceiling. Panels of glass topped it. Through the dirty panes, the day looked about to break.

  Her steps took her by Jarrod, who was busy with his book. The page he worked on was easy to see, even though he stood in a shadowy corner. He was busy outlining the inside of the tower. He was a good sketcher.

  “You missed a doorway,” she pointed out, in hopes of annoying him.

  He refused to respond.

  Fane was speaking to Skye, his expression earnest. “I’m sorry but your brother did not come here. The master checked the wards. If anyone had crossed our threshold, he would have known.”

  “Shall we get on with searching then?” she asked.

  “No!” Fane gave her an exasperated look that said, Haven’t you heard a word I’ve said? “The wards were disabled after the palace guards came here earlier, or the keeper would have known that you’ve intruded and come to throw you out. Might be too late already.” He glanced nervously up the stairs before turning back to them. “You should all leave.”

  “But Bevan said he had a vision of a dragon visiting Tamara in her dreams,” Skye said. “He could have come here to learn more.”

  “I may have spoken to him about hearing the sound of drums,” Tamara added.

  Fane stared at her with a stunned gaze. He was deathly pale and swayed as if he might faint. He’d finally noticed her, but not with admiration.

  “That’s impossible,” he finally sputtered. “You couldn’t have heard drums, for there are no more dragons or summoning ceremonies that require it.”

  Summoning ceremonies? Drums summoned dragons?

  “Looks like this was not where Prince Bevan came after all,” Thyel said. “We might as well leave.”

  “No.” Skye’s mouth was set in a stubborn line. “I need to know for certain if Bevan came here or not.” Looking at her ball of Light, she chanted, “If my brother’s in trouble, in this temple of rubble, show me the way, don’t keep me at bay!”

  The Light reduced in size and lowered to circle her head. For a moment, it flickered, as if about to go out. Skye cupped her hand around the ball until it strengthened.

  The searcher Light then swept toward Fane. He ducked and swatted at it.

  The Light ball easily evaded his touch and sped toward one of the curved stairways.

  Skye ran after it, shouting in triumph for the rest to follow. “It’s found a trace of Bevan!”

  Thyel raced up after her.

  “Come back,” Fane called. “You’re not allowed to go up there.” Giving Tamara and Jarrod a frustrated glance, he sprinted after the other two.

  Jarrod shut his book and, gestured for Tamara to go first. Then he followed.

  When they reached a landing, a closed door carved with obscure symbols led off to one side.

  Tamara didn’t particularly like the confined feeling she picked up the higher they went. She repeatedly glanced down the long barrel of the tower to see the open entryway door below and whispered, We’re not trapped.

  She was also getting royally fed up with all this climbing. First to reach the towers, and now this curving stairway leading ever upwards. A third of the way up, a stitch pulled in her right calf, making her steps falter.

  Skye raced ahead, following after her Light.

  Tamara stopped. If she took another step, she would collapse.

  “We need to go in here,” Skye called down. Her Light had finally stopped by a door. As Tamara came up, the ball expanded to encompass the wood in a white glow and then disappeared inside, leaving them in semi-darkness. Skye produced another Light ball to see by as she tried the door.

  Locked. She turned to Fane and held out her hand. “Key. Hand it over.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t have it. Only the keeper has keys to any of these rooms.” He, too, was panting. “I’ve never come this high before.”

  “Then find the keeper,” Skye said.

  “Is he in the other tower?” Jarrod asked, leaning against the wall beside Tamara to catch his breath.

  “His room’s off the second landing below us. He’s old and hard of hearing, as well as blind. I’m being trained to take over, but it’s not yet my time.”

  “Jarrod,” Skye said, suddenly, “can you transport yourself to the other side and let us in?”

  “Of course, he can.” Tamara straightened away from the wall, thinking resentfully that he could have transported them all up here and saved them a climb.

  Jarrod glanced at Tamara with disapproval for revealing that secret.

  “Oh, please,” Skye said. “Bevan might be in there. Why else would my Light have marked the door?”

  “My magic is not as reliable as it once was,” he murmured looking at the door with a frown. “Something’s been affecting it.”

  “It worked sweetly before when you left me in Saira’s room,” Tamara said. “Surely you’ll try?” She extended her arms. “I’ll hold your book.”

  “Unnecessary.” He disappeared in a whirl of wind that slammed her against the railing. It buckled under her weight.


  Thyel caught her and pulled her into his arms. “Careful.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, thinking she’d made a good choice in picking this man.

  “I hope nothing went wrong,” Skye muttered, looking at Tamara with concern.

  The idea that Jarrod might be hurt had Tamara pulling away from Thyel and hurrying to the door. “Jarrod? Are you in there?”

  A lock clicked on the other side. Jarrod opened the door and invited her in with an elaborate bow. When he rose, his eyes were alight with triumph, but also a shade of worry.

  A great wash of relief flowed over Tamara at seeing him safe. She impulsively hugged him tight, startling them all. With a laugh Skye joined in the embrace, turning the awkward moment amusing.

  “May we all enter?” Thyel asked, a definite peevish note in his tone.

  They all hurried into the unkempt room. It must have been a study. Empty open shelves lined one wall with tall windows bordering it. In the middle of the room, writing tables, chairs and stools had been toppled, books scattered on the floor. Pages had been ripped out. Shredded and torn maps, charts, and paintings hung haphazardly on the walls.

  Dust motes floated in the air. Tamara drew a finger along a table top, disturbing layers of dirt. Bevan had obviously never been in here; else his footprints would have been as distinguishable as theirs. Skye’s Light was nowhere in sight either. Had it died after entering?

  “This room has the horsemen’s stamp imprinted all over it,” Tamara said with disgust. Wrinkling her nose at the stale, moldy scent, she moved to a window where rays of morning light struggled to enter through dust-streaked panes.

  Opening it, she breathed deeply of the fresh air and enjoyed the feel of complete openness.

  “Now what?” Thyel asked.

  “I told you,” Fane still stood by the doorway, shifting from foot to foot. “No one’s allowed here except for the keeper. The prince did not come here.”

  Skye looked like she was about to cry.

  Sympathetic sorrow tightened Tamara’s chest.

  Jarrod seemed the most excited. He shifted around the room, picking up books and scattered papers. He straightened a table and rested his tome on it. Then he pointed to a painting on the wall. “What’s that in the corner?”