Hushed, Tales of Ryca, Book 2

by Shereen Vedam

  “We should focus on what we can do.” Fane’s logical yet sympathetic tone soothed her nerves, a smidgen.

  He was right, as usual. Continuing to mentally search for Jarrod and her father would serve no purpose since she had no idea where to look for them. Rescuing Bevan and Skye was within the realm of possibility.

  She glanced at the sky. It looked as gloomy as ever but a few patches of blue showed. “Is it wishful thinking or is the storm lessening?”

  “It is quieter,” Fane agreed. “Not as many lightning strikes. You can now guide us. Shall we risk it?”

  With unspoken agreement, they mounted their dragons. It felt good to be doing something.

  “Toward Bevan or Skye?” Fane shouted across to her.

  A quick check gave the answer. Anna and Saira’s vessel had crossed the barrier between worlds and was on the brink of making land. She quickly gave her nephew instruction on where to meet up with them.

  Next, she focused on Skye. Her niece’s panic was palpable.

  “Bevan’s fine,” she said. “Skye needs us. She and Thyel are headed further inland. We must hurry. She’s hurt.” She pointed to the right where mountains rose past the rainforest. “That way.”

  Fane nodded, his face set in angry lines that warned Thyel had made yet another enemy.

  Tamara was furious she’d waited this long to come to Skye’s rescue. They flew in silence.

  The clouds were indeed dispersing but the air still crackled with the storm’s energy. Into the quiet, she scented the stench of burning wood. Plumes of black smoke rose from burnt trees. The landscape was dotted with charred spots and spoke of the devastation the release of Light had done to this world.

  Though she still had little sympathy for the Melakeans’ role in assisting Thyel or keeping Bevan trapped on this land, Tamara saw the peril they fought.

  Fane, too, seemed to take in the ruin with a somber expression. “It isn’t right, what Thyel did to Melak.”

  “What isn’t right is how easy it was for him to devastate this world,” she replied. “Even if the Melakeans restore their precious flower, what’s to prevent someone else from stealing it?”

  Yet another troubling question she couldn’t answer. “Where do you suppose Thyel’s taking Skye?”

  “I suspect Princess Skye is the leader.” His grin was filled with admiration for the young girl’s ingenuity. “Knowing her, she would guide him as far from her brother as she could.”

  That made sense. Did she lead him in a random direction or somewhere in particular? Then she knew. They were headed to where the flower had first been stolen. She recognized the region from the pictures Black-Cheek had shown them.

  Skye was taking Thyel to the site of his plunder. The one place he wouldn’t want to go. Where the Melakeans would be sure to skewer him if they captured him nearby.

  “Foolish girl,” Tamara muttered as her fear mounted. She sent her senses out until they collided with a teeming, furious mob. Hidden within the deep green of the woods, she doubted either Thyel realized what awaited him.

  “Skye, stop!” She urged Halla ahead.

  “What’s wrong?” Fane shouted as Kiron increased his speed to catch up.

  “She’s leading Thyel into an ambush. Herself with him.”

  Fane’s face went ashen, and Kiron responded by howling in protest. Halla joined him in that wail.

  Tamara wanted to howl in despair, too. Why hadn’t she sensed Skye’s plan when she touched her mind?

  Because, as usual, I shied away from getting too close.

  Her self-accusation only infuriated her more. What if she didn’t reach Skye in time to stop the slaughter?

  The convergence had already begun. Little green bodies slithered over top branches and stormed under cover of the canopy. They swept toward Skye and Thyel from all directions.

  Halla and Kiron flew over a clearing. Below, Thyel, who must have finally realized the trap his furious captive led him into, spun in circles, holding Skye like a shield.

  The encircling trees were filled with Melakeans. Many dropped to the ground. They looked too enraged to care who they hurt in reaching the one responsible for the destruction of their world.

  One blast of Halla’s fiery breath could take out Thyel but Skye would be caught in the crossfire. As livid as Tamara was with the Melakeans, she couldn’t order Halla to take out the encroaching mass either. It would be pure butchery of innocents and both she and Halla knew it.

  “What can we do?” she asked Fane in desperation.

  “Land.” Grim-faced, Fane directed his bronze to do just that.

  Halla followed. The giant beasts bore down on top of the Melakeans and accomplished the one thing Tamara needed most. It caught the surging crowd’s attention and stopped their forward momentum. They scattered to get out of the way of claws reaching for purchase.

  Skye gazed up at Tamara, one eye bruised, nose bloody and lips pressed thin. Niece gave aunt a glance mixed with equal amounts of relief and defiance.

  Tamara kept her face shuttered, unwilling to forgive Skye for such a foolish act. She swung to lock gazes with Thyel, instead.

  He sent her a warm, relieved smile. “Timely, my love.”

  Halla tucked her wings in and lowered her head. The look of utter hatred in the dragon’s eyes had him scrambling backwards practically brushing against the Melakeans.

  He held Skye between him and the fuming Halla issuing hot smoke from her nostrils.

  Someone walloped his thigh with a big stick.

  Thyel viciously kicked back, sending several Melakeans flying, while the rest retreated out of boot range.

  “Let her go,” Tamara ordered from Halla’s back.

  “Skye and I have become close friends.” Thyel kept a tight hold around his prisoner’s midriff. “She doesn’t want to leave.”

  “I’m happy to die with you,” Skye answered. “Tell Halla to roast him. Do it!”

  Tamara’s heart melted at the terror and pain her niece must have gone through to sink her to this desperate state. “I’m sorry, Skye. I can’t.”

  “I knew it,” Thyel said. “You do care for me. You know I never meant you any harm, Tamara. I only wanted you to love me. I still do.”

  “That would be a little difficult, Thyel,” Tamara said in a mild tone, while seething inside. “I’ve fallen in love with someone else. Besides, by the time these good folks whose world you’ve ruined are finished with you, there won’t be much left to love.” She tilted her head toward several Melakeans who were abandoning their sticks in favor of rocks.

  Thyel’s eyes narrowed, his anger flashing before raw fear swamped it. “Surely you don’t intend to let these savages kill me? If you do, you’ll be sentencing your niece to death, be sure of that. Then they’ll go after Bevan, if he isn’t dead already. You should be mad at them. They’re the ones who took the boy prince.”

  “Liar.” A rock flew through the air and struck Thyel on his forehead.

  He jerked back and a bead of blood trickled down to wet his eyebrow.

  A Melakean stepped out of the crowd.

  Tamara recognized Black-Cheek and her eyes narrowed with lingering anger.

  As if he sensed her resentment, Black-Cheek took a cautious step back toward his fellows. Without sympathy for his plight, they shoved him forward and planted a rock into his fist.

  Making a show of bravery, he tossed the rock up and down, his gaze flicking between Thyel to Tamara. “The evil one told us the prince had hidden the flower. That by enticing him to Melak, we could weaken him and force him to give the flower back. He lied then, and he lies now.”

  “But you did take Bevan,” Tamara said in a tone laced with fury.

  The green dragon turned to study him.

  Black-Cheek swallowed and blinked rapidly. He missed catching his rock on the next throw, and it barely missed landing on his foot. “Only to retrieve our flower, Princess,” he said, sounding shaken. “That’s all we want. We have no quarrel with the p
rince or anyone else.” He glanced at Thyel. “Except this one. We want him to pay for what he did.”

  Tamara turned back to Thyel with a raised eyebrow.

  Thyel looked worried. “Surely you wouldn’t leave me to my death, my love?” Though he spoke with entreaty, a blade slipped out of his sleeve and he raised it to Skye’s throat.

  Tamara’s heart skipped and then thumped in rapid terror. She wanted to jump off Halla and run to Skye’s rescue.

  FANE SAYS STAY, Kiron mind-spoke.

  Tamara froze. Fane no longer sat astride his bronze.

  I’m not alone in this fight. Fane and Halla and Kiron were here with her. For her. Without a single doubt she trusted in whatever Fane planned. For a young lad, he had a smart head on his shoulders.

  On that realization, followed another extraordinary thought. Nothing will ever again be just my fight. She was torn between crying in terror and laughing with joy.

  What she needed to do now was stall for time and keep Thyel’s attention firmly on her. With that goal in mind, Tamara maintained eye contact with Thyel, prepared to entice, entreat or enrage him to hold his attention.

  “Let Skye go,” she said with casual nonchalance, “and perhaps we can deal.”

  “I will, my love,” he replied, looking encouraged. “I promise. After we lose this mob. Let me ride with you.”

  Halla reared her head in distaste and the mob inched forward with a protesting howl.

  Thyel’s hand jerked as if in fear. The blade nicked Skye’s neck and a trail of blood oozed from her neck.

  Fear spiked in Tamara but she couldn’t risk checking on Fane’s whereabouts. Was he close enough to wrestle Skye away from Thyel?

  Feigning serenity, Tamara gently stroked the agitated green’s neck, calming herself as much as the dragon. “Halla is unlikely to allow you anywhere near her again.”

  An image of her sitting on Halla and speaking to Thyel flashed in her mind. Tamara blinked in surprise. That image hadn’t come from Kiron or Black-Cheek. The angle was all wrong. It had also held the distinct flavor of Jarrod’s mind-talk!

  The image disappeared as quickly as it populated her thoughts. It took monumental self-control to ignore looking for the source of that beloved mind-touch.

  On the periphery of her vision, the crowd stirred, as if the Melakeans were being shoved aside by someone moving among them. Couldn’t be Jarrod doing it, or he would have towered over the short Melakeans.

  An Erovian trick? Despite their dramatically darker skin and hair color, his people had lived and worked in Ryca for centuries without Rycans being aware of the Erovians’ presence.

  The fact he was not only alive but also here and coming to her aid had Tamara’s toes curling in astonishment and joy. Her mouth pressed into a thin line to keep her delighted smile from bursting out.

  Thyel’s attention swung from the furious crowd, to the snorting Halla, and finally to Tamara confronting him, apparently. His flitting gaze flew in all the wrong directions, unaware of his impending doom. Good!

  At one more turn of Thyel’s attention away from her, Tamara took the opportunity to wink in reassurance at Skye. Her niece blinked back in surprise.

  Thyel turned back to Tamara. “If you take us away from here, I’ll help you look for Bevan on our way off this blighted world.”

  “No!” Skye said.

  Thyel’s gaze swung away from Tamara, but instead of returning to the crowd, he glanced at Kiron, from whose shoulders Fane was alarmingly absent.

  Eyes filled with disbelief, Thyel clenched the blade.

  “Don’t!” Tamara shouted. She scrambled off Halla’s back and landed on the hard-packed ground with a jolt. She ran toward Thyel. Before she could reach him, the knife in his hand vanished. As he was staring in astonishment at his empty hand, someone jerked Skye away from his hold. Fane took that opportunity to barrel into Thyel.

  The crowd of Melakeans scrambled back, shouting encouragement to Fane as the two males rolled on the ground punching and shoving each other.

  Tamara spotted Jarrod on the sidelines, looking as solid and handsome as ever, holding Skye out of harm’s way. She made a mental note to ask about his invisibility another time. For now, she spared Jarrod a short loving glance.

  He returned it with warm eyes that embraced her mentally and tantalizingly promised more later.

  Before she could follow that enticing train of thought another intruded. If Jarrod snatched Skye away, who took Thyel’s knife?

  Chapter 20

  Fane and Thyel rolled near Black-Cheek and the little Melakean kicked out with his bare foot, striking Thyel squarely in the head where a rock had struck earlier. Thyel winced and it gave Fane the chance to get a solid blow to his opponent’s chin.

  The crowd cheered.

  Skye shouted, “Kill him, Fane!”

  Jarrod had his hands full keeping Skye from joining in the fray.

  The normally diffident Fane didn’t look as if he needed help. He seemed to enjoy thrashing Thyel. Pumped by his apparent fierce thirst for payback, and perhaps by his connection to Kiron, Fane was an equal match to his larger opponent. Good for you, Fane.

  Then Tamara spotted her father. He watched the spectacle with an animated expression. In his hand, he casually twirled Thyel’s blade.

  Avoiding the combatants, she ran to her father. This time her arms didn’t go through him as they had on Ashari and he staggered back, laughing. She asked in wonder, “How?”

  “Explanations after the fight?” he suggested with a mischievous grin.

  A hiss from the crowd and a cry of alarm from Skye swung Tamara’s attention back to Thyel and Fane. Thyel was poised to thrash him with a thick branch.

  Tamara pushed away to leap to Fane’s aid but Keegan pulled her back.

  Before her objection left her lips, Kiron sent a spume of flames right across from where she stood. The blaze struck Thyel, branch and all. The blast of hot burning air had Tamara reeling back into her father’s arms, cringing from the acrid stench of brimstone.

  Thyel’s screams silenced the mob’s shouts and Skye’s cries. Utter silence descended except for the crackle and snap of the sustained flames scorching skin, tearing through muscles and melting organs until the unrelenting flames reached bones. They glowed red and orange before being charred black and gray. The air stank of roasted meat and marrow.

  Still lying on the ground, Fane stared wide-eyed and silent until the flames receded and like snowfall, ashes sprinkled onto his chest and legs. Only then did he scramble to his feet.

  “Thank you, Papa,” Tamara whispered, the first to speak, grateful for his quick thinking in pulling her back. She was stunned at how close she’d come to getting seared alongside Thyel.

  Keegan’s eyes looked suspiciously bright as he said, “You’re welcome. Glad I could be here to help you.”

  A loud jubilant roar from Kiron swung her attention to the dragon. Halla gave her mate an affectionate shove with her snout that he returned with a proud caress, before leaning forward to lick Fane.

  Tamara’s nerves, strung tight as a drum since Thyel first kidnapped Skye, collapsed. She would likely have fallen but for her father’s steady support. She wanted to go to Fane but Skye was already at his side, fiercely hugging him. Then Skye kissed him resoundingly on his lips.

  Tamara hid her smile. Fane had just saved Skye’s life. Fought Thyel for her. No doubt Kiron scorching Thyel to cinders was also a reflection of Fane’s anger. Fane was her savior. What young woman wouldn’t be affected by all of that? Skye had met her first hero.

  Keegan loudly cleared his throat.

  Fane, looking thoroughly flushed, quickly pushed Skye away and gave her grandfather, his king, a nervous look and a credible bow.

  Skye couldn’t seem to stop grinning as she clung to Fane’s arm as if she meant to stay there for a lifeline.

  “Father, are you truly here?” Tamara whispered, breaking the tension.

  He drew her close and kissed the top of h
er head. “Does that feel real enough for you?”

  “But how?”

  “It’s a long story. Mostly it’s thanks to Jarrod.”

  “It wasn’t me, sir,” Jarrod came over. “It was Falcon’s Tome. Seems my people have a history we’ve forgotten.” He shook his head as if realizing the irony. Historians losing track of their past.

  “And the missing Erovians?” Fane asked, coming up to them with Skye. “Did you discover what happened to them?”

  Jarrod held out his hand and the tome simply appeared.

  Tamara stared in wonder. Not only could Jarrod call the book at will, but the tome no longer looked like a raggedy old thing, with pages falling out, and held together with a vine. Falcon’s Tome was a thick volume, impressively leather-bound, with engravings on the cover that shone in a rainbow of colors.

  “They were in here,” Jarrod said with excitement. “When I read from the missing pages, the missing historians found me. Once the king and I were recreated,” he held up his hand to silence the ensuing questions, “when we were remade into substance, the historians reappeared beside us. We left them on Ashari while we came here to look for all of you.”

  “Until the problem in Ryca is resolved,” Keegan put in, “there’s no point in sending them home. They’d again be affected by the Melakean flower that interferes with magic. Seems Erovians are magic personified.”

  “Flower,” Black-Cheek jumped into the conversation. He stomped over to stand before Tamara, fists back on his hips, spearing her with a stubborn glare. “Queen dragon says you have it.”

  Tamara gave Halla a surly look over her shoulder. The green returned with a limpid glance, blinking her golden eyes with innocence.

  “Tamara!” Keegan’s stern fatherly tone commanded her attention. “Give the lizard back his flower.”

  She crossed her arms and sent the Melakean a challenging look. “First, explain how you plan to protect your treasure the next time someone wants to take it.”

  “We savvy now,” the little Melakean touched his forehead with a pointed finger. “Not trust peoples again.”