“It is beautiful.”
Her grandfather stood next to her. She wondered that she wasn’t surprised to see him. His voice was quiet but commanded attention. A warrior’s voice. She’d forgotten what it sounded like. Now every word fed something in her soul. A never-healed ache opened inside of her. She reached for him, but he smiled and shook his head. She dropped her hand, noting her fingers trembled. How long had he been gone? Four, five years now? It seemed like an eternity since she’d gazed into his blue eyes. He was home, comfort. She had so many things to say to him and nothing at all. His presence soothed her fractured soul. The spiraling colors drew her gaze again.
“What is it?”
He shrugged. The dunes and ocean were loosely visible through his body. He shimmered with the colors of the wind. “Time.”
The answer didn’t surprise her and she thought that might be strange. “Where are we?”
His laugh was deep and full of joy. She wanted to capture the sound and hold it close so she could hear it again and again. “You don’t recognize your home?” The old man smiled at her and his eyes twinkled. “You do have a home, Sara.”
Tears deepened her voice. “My name is not Sara anymore.”
“It is still part of who you are and who you will become.” The voice changed and with it, the form. Zeynel stood beside her.
Tears pricked her eyes. She couldn’t save him. “I am Ilythra.”
“But the name does not limit you. You have become a stone keeper. I am so proud of you.” His voice washed over her in soothing waves.
“But I failed.” Tears seeped down her cheeks. She’d failed in so many ways. “You don’t know—”
The shimmering image placed a cool finger against her mouth, silencing her words. “You choose what you take forward with you. If you have learned from your failures, then can you say you’ve failed? Or is it better to say that you’ve grown?”
Zeynel’s image started to fade.
Panic surged through her body. She reached for him, only to grasp nothing. “Don’t leave yet. I still need you.”
“Then find me.” The voice was distant, faint.
The mists swirled as Zeynel disappeared. She stared into the shifting patterns of blue and green. She wasn’t alone. She waited and gripped Ilydearta tighter, only then realizing she held the stone.
A shadowy silhouette approached over the waters. Tall and graceful, he moved with the swirling colors—almost seemed to be part of them.
He removed a hooded cloak, revealing a strangely beautiful, angled face. Shadowed almond-shaped eyes seemed to question, though the full lips didn’t move. “I have been waiting for you, child. Hurry.”
Ilythra blinked. Sunlight streamed into the canyon. She collapsed back in the cool sand. Zeynel, her grandfather. She longed to go back to sleep, to dream of them just a little longer, but she knew that would be folly. The Rugians were still coming; she still had a river to cross and a wall to climb. She had no time for daydreaming. The river sparkled under the light’s caress and insects flitted along the shore. Melior grazed on coarse grasses a few lengths away.
Who was the third man? He’d told her to hurry. She gazed across the water. A gentle mist floated along the banks, and the sun warmed the rock to brilliant shades of orange and red. She’d been hurrying for longer than she could remember—since waking up from the drugged stupor while hiding in Nenya’s house. She didn’t know how much more she had in her. He said he’d been waiting for her. She stared at the opposite side of the canyon. It was a lot taller than the side she’d traversed the day before.
She assessed herself with the distance of a healer. She was stiff from sleeping on the ground in the cold, but that would pass as her muscles warmed. The aches from the many bruises covering her body would remain, but she could push through them. It was her shoulder wound and ribs that concerned her the most. She still could not move quickly or at all without pain, and if she wasn’t cautious, she ran the risk of puncturing a lung. If she didn’t immobilize her arm, she’d keep reopening the wound on her shoulder, but she couldn’t risk it yet.
Moving to the water, Ilythra splashed her face, unable to escape the dream. It had been so real. Her grandfather. She closed her eyes. Zeynel. Sorrow lanced through her breast. Who was the third man? She’d never seen him before yet he felt familiar. The Siobani stone keeper? Had he been human? She removed her tunic and shirt to examine the bandages on her shoulder. Dried blood caked the white material. With care she dripped enough water on the bandage to pry it away from the wound. The skin was red, but not the flame of infection. She washed the bandage and the wound with the icy water from the river, satisfied that it only bled a little. With rest, it should be good as new in a few weeks. She smiled. That was very unlikely to happen. She left the wound to the air as she carefully rewrapped her ribs. After splashing water over her body, she wrapped her shoulder awkwardly with her last clean bandage and dressed. Her clothes were filthy but the river would take care of that.
She stared at the deep blue water as it made its way sedately through the canyon walls. This wasn’t going to be easy. The top of the canyon on her side remained hidden from view. She had no way of knowing if the Rugians were up there. They had to be searching for a way down by now. She just hoped they were looking somewhere else.
Gathering her supplies, Ilythra wrapped as much as possible in her greased cloth. Her stomach growled. She ate the last oatcake and drank her fill of the icy water, then topped off her water skin. The night of rest had done her good, but she was far from recovered. She turned to Melior. “We’re going swimming.” Staring across the river, she made out the path up the other side of the canyon. The river wasn’t fast, but it looked deep, and although she was a strong swimmer, she knew how far a current could carry a person. They’d have to go upstream before crossing. She didn’t want to risk being taken too far away from the other path. There might not be beaches elsewhere along the river.
She wandered upstream, glancing at the canyon’s lip high above her head every so often. The sun blocked her view. If they were watching, they might see her once she was in the river or on the other side. She’d have to chance it. “Ready?”
Melior stared at her.
“Me neither.” She took several deep breaths and walked into the freezing waters. The cold took her breath, but she was prepared for that. Melior stood on the bank, watching. “Come on, boy. It’s not going to get any warmer.”
Small pebbles slipped under her feet and made walking difficult. Her feet lost contact with the riverbed and she slipped under the water’s surface. She emerged, blinking water from her eyes. “Watch out, Mel, there’s quite a drop-off.”
Splashing water sounded behind her. Ilythra fought the current, heading for the opposite bank, but the rocks passed by at an alarming rate. After the first few strokes, the icy cold numbed the pain in her arm and ribs, but she knew she’d pay for it later. She increased the effort but could no longer feel her legs. Melior passed her.
Show-off. But she didn’t have the energy to vocalize the sentiment. Just when she began to doubt they’d make it, Melior lurched, his legs moving frantically as he attempted to climb the opposite bank. With a surge and spray of water, he scrambled up the other side and shook his body from his head to his tail.
Her toe kicked something solid. With the last of her energy, she fought forward until she was sure both feet were on a solid surface. She walked through the water. Once it no longer supported her, she fell to her knees, crawled the rest of the way onto the beach and lay prone on the rocky shore, breathing heavily.
Hot breath touched her face. She turned into a soft muzzle. “I’m not dead,” she croaked.
Rising to her hands and knees, she crawled to the rock wall and leaned against it. The waters rushed by, ignorant of her exhaustion.
The cliff wall soared toward the heavens, i
ts edge a blurred line against the pale sky. They hadn’t gone too far past the path leading out of the canyon. She scanned the opposite wall but could only see unbroken rock topped by blue sky. Her body shook with cold and effort. She stood to fight the very real threat of not being able to get back up again. She needed to get moving. The words of third man haunted her. I’ve been waiting for you. Hurry. Urgency pushed her.
She stood and shivered. “The climb will keep us warm.” After redistributing their supplies on Melior’s back, she examined the rock wall for the path.
Relief surged through her blood when she found the narrow trail.
The air grew marginally warmer as they progressed up the path. Ilythra concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. The muscles of her thighs burned with the effort and blood bloomed through the bandage on her shoulder. The sun highlighted the rock above them like a beacon. Melior faltered, his hooves slipping on the sandy soil, and pebbles tumbled down the canyon, bounced off rock and landed with a splash in the river below. “I bet you wish your mother was a goat about now, huh?” Ilythra stared at the opposite side of the canyon, still high above them. The roar of the river had grown dim and the tangy scent of minerals smelled dusty instead of wet. The only sound was their footsteps on the narrow path and the occasional call of a bird as it hunted the waters below. She still couldn’t see the top, but before long, they’d step into the sunshine, and anyone on the opposite side of the canyon who was watching would be able to see them.
Chapter Twenty
A whistle sounded through the air. Ilythra froze. Small rocks exploded behind her. A spear bounced off the rock wall and tumbled into the chasm. She turned to face the plains. A group of Rugians stood on the canyon lip. Another spear flew across the canyon. Ilythra deflected it with her sword more out of instinct than as a defensive maneuver. Another flew well short of her and fell into the waters below. They’d found her. Sweat coated her body and her breath came in wheezing gasps, each one punctuated by a sharp sting. She pushed damp hair away from her eyes.
“Great, now I’m target practice.” Her muscles protested but she quickened her pace up the incline. The Rugians huddled together. She guessed they had a limited supply of projectiles—which was good for her—but she doubted that now that they’d seen her, they’d give up and go away.
Now they knew there was a way across.
The sun shone directly overhead, and where she’d once wished for its warmth, she cursed the light that revealed her so clearly against the gray rock. She glanced back at Melior. He made a bigger target and he couldn’t defend himself from the thrown weapon. Fear turned her stomach. The edge of the canyon stretched high above her head. The path ahead was just shy of vertical. She reached back to grab the stallion’s reins and glanced over at the Rugians in time to see them all poised to throw spears.
“Run!” Pulling on Melior, she scrambled up the path as fast as she was able. Melior’s hooves slid on the steep grade. Rocks tumbled into the canyon below. Ahead there was a switchback marked by a large boulder. She raced for it, almost parallel with the path but not letting go of the stallion’s reins.
A spear whizzed by. She dove for the rock. Melior’s head jerked forward with the motion and his legs splayed. He screamed. Ilythra pulled, and he lurched into the shelter of the boulder. Several more spears crashed against the mountain, dislodging tiny sprays of dust and rock.
A red welt lay across his shoulder. She closed her eyes and shook her head. Fear and relief soured her stomach. If he hadn’t stumbled, the spear would have gone through his neck. Behind the relative shelter of the large boulder, she steadied the stallion’s head, then poured water over the cut. He tried to back away but she held him firm, speaking nonsense in low tones.
Silence descended. She leaned against the rock and slid down until she was near the ground. Carefully, she peeked around the edge of their shelter. Five Rugians searched the canyon lip, no doubt looking for the way down. A sixth stood staring at a space a little above her head. He held a spear in his hand.
How many of those damn things did they have? She studied the path ahead of them. No cover until the next switchback. Right before the turn, a small, gnarled tree had pierced a large rock and offered a little shelter. It looked a long way away. Several spears lay on the ground just out of reach. “Stay here,” she whispered. On her belly, she crept to the nearest spear. She’d just reached out to grab it when she heard the sibilance of a wood shaft through the air. She rolled but there was nowhere to go. Her back slammed into the mountain. Metal sliced her thigh like arcing fire and bit into the rock behind her. She bit back a scream.
Ilythra grabbed the spear and dragged herself back to the shelter. Small rocks bit into her hands and stomach. Blood poured down her thigh, darkening her leggings. Another spear sparked against the rock. That had been too close. One more finger width and the spear would have buried itself in the muscle of her thigh. She’d have been hard-pressed to remove it on the dusty trail. Curses echoed from the other side of the canyon. She peeked. One of the Rugians was yelling at the spear-thrower. Maybe they didn’t have an unlimited supply after all. She estimated they’d thrown about a dozen.
“Yeah, but it only takes one to end you,” she muttered to herself. She leaned back against the rock, almost afraid to look down. The material of her leggings was sticky with blood. She breathed through the pain and tore the hole a little wider. The cut was deep but not fatal. The odd thing about pain—with the fire in her leg, her shoulder and ribs seemed to hurt less. After pouring a little water over it, she secured it with a damp cloth to stem most of the bleeding.
They probably wanted to keep her there until they could make a way across. She could wait until dark—she examined the road above her—but only a fool would chance these paths at night. She didn’t think even the Rugians were that foolish.
She took a deep breath and crouched, ignoring the fire in her limbs. Her bandage was already tinted a deep red. “When I say run, you run, okay?”
Melior’s pain-filled eyes bore into hers.
“I’m sorry, boy. We can’t stay here.” She glanced toward the west. The sun sank toward the horizon. It wouldn’t be long until sunset. She was almost even with the Rugians on the other side of the chasm, with several wheels left to climb.
“See that shrub there?” She pointed to the stunted tree. “That’s where we’re going.” It looked even farther away than it had the first time. Ilythra hefted the spear in her right hand.
“Okay. Go!” She shot up and threw the spear with all her strength. Dark spots danced in her vision from the effort. The man lifted his own spear, then hesitated for a heartbeat when he saw the projectile heading his direction before he threw his own weapon. Even if she’d been at full strength, she couldn’t throw a spear across the distance. But the Rugian didn’t know that. She raced toward the next outcropping, pausing to scoop up another spear.
The Rugian’s weapon arched down, slamming into the canyon face well below them. Melior’s hooves sounded on the path behind her. She skidded to a stop behind the tree and rock and waited. No more spears followed. Her leg throbbed and blood ran freely down her leg.
She peeked around the rock. One of the other Rugians stood over the spear-thrower. It didn’t look good for him, but it bought her some time. She observed the trail ahead. The next section was a tiny bit wider and littered with large rocks. They wouldn’t be quite-so-easy targets. She patted Melior’s neck. At least one of them wouldn’t be. There was nothing she could do about the size of the stallion. But so far, they hadn’t targeted him. Maybe they were hoping to take him hostage too.
“Ready for the last dash?”
Melior breathed out his nose.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” After one more glance to assure herself the Rugians were in the same position they’d been in before, she gripped the stallion’s reins and raced up the
incline. Her skin itched, fearing any moment she’d feel the bite of a spear.
A scream echoed off the canyon rim. A Rugian fell down into the depths below. She followed his descent out of the corner of her eye. Another Rugian stood at the lip, staring at her. For a moment, their gazes held. She didn’t pause but continued to race up the incline.
The sun dipped below the horizon as they scrambled over the rim. Deep forest grew almost to the cliff’s edge. Across the chasm, the grasslands spread out before her in waves of gold.
A shout echoed in the twilight. They’d found the path. Would they risk it in the darkness? She almost hoped they would. It should eliminate a few of them. In the distance, the hills she traveled looked like crushed velvet, marred by dark blemishes she knew were trees. So far. She’d come so far.
She stepped toward the forest and her leg crumpled under her. She ignored the burning. Melior nosed her arm. She looped her arm around his neck and pulled herself to standing. Her leggings were saturated with red, and breathing hurt. She needed to find a place to rest, if only for a little while.
A narrow path wended through the trees. Was this Siobani land? If so, where were they? Behind her, the chasm and the Rugians. Ahead, a dark and unknown forest. Her heart skipped a beat and the world tilted. She couldn’t give in to the exhaustion, pain or fear yet. She really didn’t have much choice. No matter how much she hurt, it was move or die. If she stopped, she might start thinking. If she started thinking, she might panic. Using Melior as a crutch, she hobbled down the path.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ilythra stumbled again. Either she was more exhausted than she’d thought or she was getting dizzy. Neither was a good sign. The forest was an impenetrable gloom around her. Occasionally, an owl hooted or something rustled the brush nearby. The tinkling of a nearby brook sounded in the night. Melior’s ears stayed alert, almost rotating, listening to sounds she couldn’t hear.
Journey of Wisdom Page 16