“How do you know that guy?” Erik asked, once their horses were at a comfortable cantor.
Evangeline thought she heard a trace note of jealousy in the prince's voice, but brushed it off. Jealousy was absurd, after all. Instead, she explained that Kaleb was one of her friends, in the First Realm, one of the people she worked with. When she expressed her confusion over why he wanted to stay, the prince just shook his head.
“My father and the Kkyathi have been warring since the start of the Emeralde War, as everyone calls it. The Kkyathi are too close to his land and they are more vicious than the weres that occupy territory to the west of us, thus, he goes after the Kkyathi more often, trying to wipe them out.”
“Do you support him?” she asked, despite his answer before. It made her nervous, as if he was going to support his father and demand that she be arrested.
His emerald eyes narrowed. “My answer hasn't changed since I said it last. This is my father's war, not mine. I just happen to be a part of his family.”
“I'm not trying to accuse,” she said, backing down cautiously. “I'm just trying to understand this war. There's war in the First Realm too, but it's far away from us, in strange lands where we don't experience it. War doesn't usually touch us, where we are in the First Realm.”
At that, Erik seemed interested. When she fell silent, he sighed heavily, explaining how he and his mother tried to change his father's mind. His father had always been a stubborn man, set in his ways. That usually helped him become a better leader, especially when ruling a kingdom and having dozens of demands thrown on him, daily. In this case of trying to change his mind, it just didn't help the situation at hand.
“What's worse is that several high ranking people in the kingdom started bending his ear their way,” he said, his eyes narrowing in distaste. “They helped warp his already strange mind, helped push their hatred into the current war.”
He slowed his horse so he could meet her in the eye. “My father is not a cruel man. He has just been misled.”
The pain on his face was as clear as day. Evangeline saw the suffering he felt for his father, saw the suffering he faced daily, watching his father being warped into something so unrecognizable and being unable to stop it. How was she supposed to deal with this? She wasn't a grief counselor and she had no experience with war or how it tore families apart. What could she say that would have any amount of reassurance in it?
She reached over to him from her horse and patted him on the shoulder. It was the only sign of comfort that she could think of, while they were both on horseback. She didn't know why it was important to comfort him with something soft and gentle, when she would have tried to cheer any of her fellow Assassins up with her dry humor. Sarcasm and sharp wit didn't seem appropriate here, so she only said to him, “I'm sure he's a great man.”
The corners of his lips turned upward in a smile for just the briefest moment. Then, as if he had caught himself, he cleared his throat and alerted her in a stronger voice, “We'll be out of Kkyathi territory shortly. We only have the Oraldine elf colony to get through and we will be at Moonriver.”
Like a door being shut, the sudden strength in his voice was just the smallest hint that the previous conversation was over. Evangeline took the hint and nodded, saying no more about a wayward king and the troubled son before her. Instead, the two of them continued through the forest. The trees gave way to an open field where tall grass stood chest-high, as far as the eye could see. Beyond that, she could barely make out a line of trees that Erik explained was elf territory.
Almost there. They were almost at Moonriver. This long journey would be over with soon enough.
Chapter Twelve
It was lovely being rocked back and forth. The simple rocking motion comforted Kaydee, like a baby being held in her mother's arms. The rocking motion was much better than what she remembered happening to her, what she would have to face when—
What...
–when she woke up.
Kaydee's eyes snapped open. The rocking motion was still there, but this time, she understood it. She was on a boat. She had to be; there was no other way to explain the motion and the great roaring of the water outside of the small wooden structure she was cramped in.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of hanging lanterns. The lanterns swung in a nauseating motion from their hooks against the wall, swaying with the motion of the vessel they were in. Around her were the same people she had been chained to, the “winners” of that obscene fight they all had to do. With the man who had bought them absent from the room, some of the people sobbed openly out of fear.
Their fear bit into her with rank, sharp claws. The sounds of the sobbing combined with the sharp, rancid odor of urine and sweat. She and the other people were still chained together, with no place to go. Those who had soiled themselves had no choice but to wallow in it, creating more terror and disgust for the others.
“What's going on?” she dared to ask, once she caught the eye of a man across from her. Her voice cracked and sounded rough, as if she hadn't spoken in a long time.
He hushed her, telling her to keep her voice down. After waiting a moment, he added, “Sorry, but we're not supposed to make any noise. We've been sold to that Seafarer with the corrupt coin purse. He's taking us to Govoya, on the Isle Dark, where we will be forced to fight in what's known as the Battles of Govoya.”
She remembered the fight she had been forced to do and felt bile rising to her throat. Still, she gathered as much courage as she could and asked, “What are the Battles of Govoya?”
His answer was ominous. “It's a forced tournament, of sorts, where captured slaves like us are forced to fight to the death. If we refuse, we'll be killed on the spot.”
“Is there any way out of it?”
He gave her a haunting smile that held no humor. “Yeah, by dying.”
They ceased conversation after that. They heard a door opening somewhere above them, then the heavy footfalls of boots walking down creaky wooden steps. She recognized the man who had bought them as Thomas, the corrupt Seafarer. He was accompanied by an old man who looked eager for violence, whether it be by his own hand or someone else's.
“You, there,” Thomas said. He reached down and grabbed a skinny woman by her shackles, yanking her upright. “You're a water mage, yes? Well you need to make some magic happen, lest our ship be capsized by the cursed seas surrounding the Isle Dark.”
With that, he unchained her and dragged her up the creaky wooden steps. The last thing Kaydee heard from her was her quiet sobbing.
The man she had been talking to waited until Thomas, the mage and the old man were gone before he turned back to Kaydee. “The seas surrounding the Isle Dark have been enchanted so no one escapes this land. That's why he needs that woman.”
“Enchanted?”
He nodded. “This place was supposed to be like...well, a prison, kind of. Those who are taken here are not supposed to make it out. There are whirlpools and tidal waves that come out of nowhere to capsize incoming or outgoing ships. If you make it past that, some say there are even sea serpents to stop anyone from coming or going. Only a water mage can fight off the forces of nature long enough for a ship to pass through.”
“This is a horrible place,” she said, shivering slightly. “Where I'm from in the First Realm, people don't buy other people for fighting, like they're...animals.”
“Oh, it happens,” the man said, his voice dark. “I'm from the First Realm, too. I did humanitarian work there. I thought I could do some good here as well, but well, look where that got me.”
Kaydee didn't know what to say after that. There wasn't a lot that could be said. She just hoped that something would happen to stop this madness, or to get her away from the tournament she was going to be forced into. Why did she of all people have to get sold into this? Evangeline could win the tournament with both hands tied behind her back. As for Kaydee...well, all she had to hope for was a miracle.
Across the sea, on the Isle Dark, Leta Gerard was positively thrilled at the opportunity she was given.
“Of course I'll go with you, Atri! Thanks for asking.”
“One, don't call me that,” the man beside her snapped. “Two, I'm only asking because I don't know where the seer lives.”
Leta glanced at him with sea green eyes. “There's tons of seers in Siiati. I know which one you'd want though; she's the most accurate.”
“Great. Let's go.”
Leta tried not to take his lack of enthusiasm personally. Atrimalous had never been friendly. She had tried reaching out to him, giving him the dragon necklace he wore now, but he still had the emotional span and the friendliness of an icicle. Other people in their colony didn't bother with him, but she did.
Unfortunately, Atrimalous didn't seem to want her friendship in any way. He trudged on beside her, wearing that heavy cloak of his. With the hood up and his face in shadow, he looked about as friendly as Death, personified and ready to take a new victim.
It didn't take them long to cross through the colony. Stone huts were arranged into small neighborhoods, with dirt roads in between them. The roads had, at one time, been cobbled but lack of care for the roads led for them to be covered in dirt and buried. In some neighborhoods where people cared, the road was visible but in many they were not. There was no rhyme or reason to the shape of the various neighborhoods; it all depended on if the people in them cared enough to do anything.
They followed the dirt road from where their houses stood side by side, down to the coastline, where jagged rocks and mountains broke through the earth in horrifying arrangement. Part of the charm of the “sea witch colony,” as Siiati was called. That was, if there was, in fact, any charm to Siiati to begin with.
The seer they were going to visit was completely blind in her old age, but she had been since her youth. That was a sign of a powerful seer – in this land, the more powerful a person's psychic vision was, the weaker their physical vision was. Leta hoped this woman could help, otherwise she would be out of ideas and she would have to deal with an even angrier Atrimalous after.
They headed up an uneven pathway carved into craggy cliff sides and rough-hewn rock up to a house at the top of a cliff. The hut was similar to the ones in the village, with its stone body and thatched roof, but there was something ancient and decrepit about the dwelling, something that made Leta alert and on edge. Beside her, Atrimalous showed no outward changes but she saw his hand move towards the weapons he carried on him.
The journey up the side of the cliff didn't take long. Before they had reached the door of the hut, an old, withered woman stepped out and stood before them. Long white hair flowed to her waist and fluttered in the sea breeze like a bird about to take flight. Her eyes were milky, but her expression was sharp. Blind she might be, but she was no fool.
“You came to see me, Leta Gerard?”
A chill went up Leta's spine as she faced the old woman whom she had never met before. This woman was indeed powerfully psychic, picking up her name just by glancing in her direction. Psychics who could do that were rumored to know everything about a person just by observing for a few moments, picking up on emotional health and memories as they passed through the air.
“Yes, ma'am,” Leta said after a moment's hesitation, pushing ink black hair from her face. “We need your help, if you would be so gracious.”
“Thirty cut before we start,” the woman said in an amused, withering voice.
Atrimalous was not impressed. “Let me guess, we pay you and you tell us what you think we want to hear.”
At this, the old woman's eyes narrowed. “I wouldn't speak so vehemently if I were you, Atrimalous, especially if you need my help in locating someone.”
As if in response to the woman’s curt reply, the wind kicked up, blowing the man’s hood back, revealing a man in his early thirties, with black and silver hair. His skin was tanned, although scarred, especially near his left temple. Unnatural amethyst eyes narrowed. “You know whom I need to locate.”
It was not a question but the woman took it as such. “Yes, and I know where she is. Come now, thirty cut and a cup of tea. Sound good?”
He glanced at Leta, who shrugged, then nodded at the woman.
“Yes, thank you.”
The woman led them into her home. It was mostly dark inside, aside from a small lantern she had hanging in a corner. She gathered them around a large wooden table and sat down.
“Do you do card reading, or...” Leta trailed off as the woman closed her eyes.
“I do not need any trivial items to see,” the woman said, her voice changing into something less human and more ethereal. “You mages depend too much on charms and potions. While a lot of your magic depends on internal thought, you still use the tools of man to communicate with the magic itself. I do not.”
She fell silent and they waited to see what she would say or do. As the silence filled the room, the woman swayed from side to side, eyes still closed. When she spoke again, her ethereal voice gained power and wisdom.
“What you seek is coming. She is in the Second Realm now, on her way to Govoya. She was purchased as a slave from a corrupt Seafarer after being captured by Gypsa. You are the one who must save her, Atrimalous; otherwise, she will perish in the tournament she will be forced into. You must find a way to save her. Will you do it?”
“Yes,” he said automatically. “Where is she now?”
There was a pause, then the woman answered, “She is on a Seafarer vessel nearing the coast of Govoya. Look for a large ship with Seafarer markings and a mermaid as its figurehead. This is the Sea Titan and she will be making port in two days.”
Leta saw Atrimalous shake slightly, as if what he was hearing was a revelation. She had no idea of what was going on, but she knew that whoever this she the seer spoke of was important to Atrimalous. Who this she was, though, she didn't know.
The old woman drew in a breath in a rough, rasping sound, before her eyes opened. “That is all the information I have received at this time. Is that satisfactory?”
Atrimalous nodded. “Yes. Now, you said thirty cut...”
He pulled a small pouch from the belt at his waist and counted out the correct amount of change. The woman counted it, then bowed her head.
“Be careful, young mage. And good luck.”
Atrimalous was in a foul mood as he left the seer's house. It had been hard to control himself while he had been listening to the woman. Leta had no doubt seen his weakness and would ask him about what was going on. He didn't want to have to explain it to her. He didn't want her involved beyond what she had already done, but knowing her, she would insist on helping as much as possible.
Damn that overbearing ice mage.
Still, he knew she was doing it out of kindness. For whatever reason, Leta wanted to help him and sometimes he needed that help. After keeping himself in isolation for so long, he didn't want to interact with most people. Unfortunately, there were times where it was unavoidable and that was where Leta was most useful.
“Wait up!”
Speaking of which. He had left Leta behind as he stormed down the cliff side. She was hurrying to catch him, tripping over stones and other things that littered the dirt road.
“Atri, wait up!”
He turned around to snap at her again for the nickname he didn't ask for or like, but instead paused and waited for her to catch up. Snapping at her wouldn't help in the long run and Kaydee was already on her way here. He had to get to Govoya now and intercept her before she was thrown into the Death Games.
As stupid a name as the tournament was given, it was no joke. Outside of the Isle Dark, the Games were called the Battles of Govoya, but the locals just referred to them as the Death Games. With almost a one hundred percent fatality rate for everyone who was forced to fight, it was either win or be killed. He wasn't about to subject Kaydee to that sort of barbaric behavior.
“Are
you going to find her?” Leta said, somewhat breathless as she caught up with him. “Whoever the seer was talking about, I mean.”
“Yeah.”
“It's a long journey to Govoya. It'd be best to leave now, if you want to get there by the time she arrives.”
He was tempted to snap at her again for pointing out the obvious, but she was right. He bit back the reply and sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
When she asked him how he was going to travel, he didn't know. She did. She knew the stable master of a farm not too far from here, who would let her borrow horses. It was one more reminder of why her company was sometimes a necessity; she had connections that he didn't in his isolation.
She also assumed that she was going with him.
“Are you coming with me?” he asked, trying to be polite.
She paused at this. “Well...if you don't want me to, then I won't. But I can at least get us a faster way to travel. The stable master won't lend his horses out if I'm not going to be there and the journey will take twice as long on foot.”
He cursed inwardly and glanced back at her. “Well, I guess you're going then.”
Chapter Thirteen
There was a great commotion as Marco and Camira were led to where D'jerik had his war party. A small band of warriors on horseback were there to greet them. Like D'jerik, they had feathers in their hair. Most had their hair tied back with leather thongs, but a few had braided, beaded and feathered hair around their shoulders. Camira was the only woman there and a few of the warriors gave her disapproving stares.
“We ride back to Oraldine first, before we take you to Moonriver, stranger,” D'jerik said to Marco. “There, we return Camira in the safety of the colony. These are not safe times for a woman to be riding around, even with a guard.”
“What?” Camira cried. “I am not going back just yet! I said I would escort him to–”
Shadow Assassins (The Second Realm Trilogy) Page 12