Five settlements. Even though none of the markings bore a name, everyone knew Ulundkin, located right over the border on the edge of the Skyfall Mountains. Where the Ciantar family used to do the only trading with the people of the Deadlands. Both were gone now, the village destroyed and the Ciantar family's power and prestige with it. Kaytlin would mourn neither.
Five settlements. The closest sat to the northeast. If they needed supplies or directions, it would be the first place they would head to. That would be her next destination. Now the question was, should she try and find this “sign” that The Voice spoke about, or try and head straight to the settlement now? The map gave her little help. It didn't even show any roads that could help lead her to her destination. If she tried heading there now, it would be blind luck if she eventually found the place or one of the Living Dead pointed her in the right direction.
The other option was to trust in her deity. Or at least, the words The Voice believed came from Alistar. It made her decision considerably easier.
Swinging back up on Rook, she gave him a gentle nudge. "East, my friend. East."
***
"Cursed luck," Kaytlin growled as she watched the sun just start to kiss the tops of the Skyfall Mountains in the west. Climbing down from her saddle, she kicked at the grass.
Almost a day of traveling and she hadn't seen a single miraculous clue to tell her where to go.
No beaming ray of light.
No flock of birds soaring in arrow formation into the Deadlands.
Not even a bush or tree bent towards the north.
There was no denying it. She had lost a day to Ean. The man had put that much more distance between them while he had moved closer to . . . wherever it was he intended.
Now, with the sun setting, it would be foolish to head into the Deadlands. From what she had learned during her time at the temple, the mists were difficult enough to navigate during the day. At night, not even all of the three moons' light combined could penetrate the haze of the realm. Kaytlin could wander about blindly all night and find herself still at the edge when the following day arrived. The only smart thing she could do now was to set up camp, get a good night’s sleep, and try her luck in the morning.
Maybe she would receive some kind of divine vision.
Or better yet, maybe Alistar would descend from the skies and carry her to wherever she needed to go.
Reaching down, she grabbed a palm-sized stone and threw it out into the Deadlands.
"Foul place!"
Felt good to scream. Kaytlin was so used to putting up this stoic wall whenever she was around other people that she sometimes forgot who she really was deep down. An orphan girl from the streets of Lurthalan. Every day her past became more difficult to remember, as difficult to grasp as holding onto the mist just a few paces away. The righteous duty and unyielding faith of Kaytlin the Ivory Dawn was slowly smothering the person she used to be. For the most part, she didn't mind. She was stronger now, more confident. She had a purpose.
But on days like today, when nothing was going right . . .
"GUTTER-LICK HARLOT OF A LAND!"
. . . It felt good to let the foul-mouthed girl out.
Grabbing another stone, she flung it out into the Deadlands. It struck something, creating a thunk that brought a smile to her face. She would throw a hundred stones into that accursed land, bury it in rubble if she could.
No, that was her anger talking. Anger that she kept bottled up most of the time. But the living creatures on the other side of that mist didn't deserve her anger. It wasn't their fault they had been unable to escape the Plague. Especially the animals. She felt horrible about them. While the people that had been infected by the Plague still retained most of their human form, the animals had been twisted similarly to how the energy that escaped Scars could change a creature. Kaytlin hated how the poor animals were probably suffering in the north.
That didn't mean she wouldn't defend herself when they eventually attacked her and Rook. Just another reason to hate the land. She grabbed another stone and launched it into the mist.
"ABYSSMAL HORSE DUNG SVEEVER!"
She heard the stone land, except this time, it made a strange sound, like it had landed in a pile of sand. Her curiosity awakened, Kaytlin moved in the direction she had thrown the stone. When she reached the edge of the mist, she paused and peered out into the north. Nothing caught her eye, but with the fading light, she couldn't see very far.
"Stay here," Kaytlin said, glancing over her shoulder at the trained steed. She didn't need the horse following her and getting lost only a few paces away.
Lifting her foot, she paused. Doubt and fear flooded into her like a sluice gate thrown open. She was about to step for the first time into the north. Into the Plague.
Stories sprang to mind. Not the histories she had been taught at the temple but the ones told in the back corners of taverns and to children that misbehaved. Tales of people deformed, going insane, turning cannibalistic. The Voice told Kaytlin that her amulet would protect her from the Plague, and it certainly had protected her from being corrupted by energy from the Abyss, but those were just words. And wasn't the Plague a different form of Abyssmal energy? No one really understood the Plague. Even the most powerful magic users at the time had barely stopped its spread, and it had cost all of them their lives.
Knowing all of that, she was supposed to trust the power of a small jewel she wore around her neck?
Racked by doubt, Kaytlin took a step backwards instead of forwards. It was one thing to be ordered to do something many would find foolish, but following through . . .
The order had come straight from Alistar, her god. The Voice could not have lied about that, in the heart of Alistar's temple. Kaytlin needed to have faith. Dropping to her knees, she bowed her head and recited the words given specifically to the Seekers.
Alistar, lord of justice
Fill this vessel with your holy light
Alistar, shield of justice
Protect me from those that would corrupt the land
Alistar, sword of justice
Guide my blade so it may vanquish your foes
Alistar, heart of justice
Give me the strength to serve your will
Warmth. That was the only way Kaytlin could describe it. A warmth that settled into her very core and covered her like a blanket. It pushed out the biting chill of the season. Eased the aches that came from a day spent riding. Most importantly, it crippled her doubt, shattered it into nothingness.
Kaytlin had the support of her deity.
Before she could think, Kaytlin took four quick steps into the mist.
Humidity assaulted her first, the mist clinging to her skin and mixing with the beads of sweat that started to escape her body.
Then, what she could only imagine was the Plague, began its attack. Kaytlin felt like hundreds of tiny fists were striking her at once. Alone they would have barely been noticeable, but together, combined with the unexpectedness of their appearance, they almost drove Kaytlin to her knees. A fire burned in her chest. After a few moments, after she had started to get used to the oppressive weight on her shoulders, she realized that the burning was actually her amulet. Pulling it free, she found the blue gem glowing stronger than she had ever seen it before.
Despite how bad she felt, Kaytlin let a smile touch her lips. The amulet worked.
Back to the matter at hand. Looking back, Kaytlin tried to get a good judge of where she stood. It took her a few moments to make out Rook outside of the Deadlands, the mist clouding her vision even a few paces in. With her bearings restored, she started walking in the direction she had thrown the last stone. After a dozen or so paces, she found it. The rock had landed in an area where the vegetation had died. No, died wasn't the proper word. It looked like everything in a three- or four-pace circle had turned to ash. Not only that, the trail of ash stretched north.
This is it!
"Rook!" Kaytlin didn't try to hide the exci
tement in her voice. "Where are you?"
Her steed let out a snort. The sound didn't give her an exact location for where he stood, but it was enough that Kaytlin could make it back to the edge of the mist.
"Sorry, old friend," she said, striding up and climbing onto his back. "It doesn't look like we will be resting for a while yet. With an actual trail to follow, we can travel even in the darkness. I promise we . . . "
We.
Kaytlin hadn't even thought about it. She was about to take Rook into the Deadlands.
No, she couldn't do that. Rook was a trained horse. She could send him back to Lurthalan. He had found his way home plenty of times. She could carry on alone.
Carrying three packs worth of supplies.
If she was smart about it, she could consolidate everything into two bags, but that wouldn't make her supplies any lighter. It would slow her down immensely. Kaytlin's only chance of catching Ean then would be if he stopped somewhere for days. If that happened, it would have to be so that he could accomplish . . . whatever it was he was trying to accomplish. And she would have failed to stop him.
"I'm sorry, Rook. It looks like I need you. May Alistar guide us so that we can destroy our quarry and be out of the Deadlands before the Plague can fully take hold of you."
Giving her stead a gentle nudge with her legs, he began to trot into the mist.
One more mission.
Chapter 22
That morning, Ean made sure he was covered from head to toe so that only the barest area around his eyes was exposed. The new armor that Dao had purchased for him did most of the job, the leather chest piece fit snuggly with the arm and leg pieces, and the long sleeved grey shirt and black pants he wore underneath covered any areas left exposed by the armor. Around Ean's eyes, Dao had applied the same substance he had used to cover his skin while in Ven Khilada. The scarf itched at the stubble on his face, and the substance around his eyes smelled like his Hound after it had been caught out in the rain, but if it all helped avoid any trouble, he could put up with it.
"Make sure that scarf stays nice and tight around your face," Dao said from ahead of Ean. "This late in the afternoon, most of the men will be coming back from the farmlands to the north, so the village will be busy. Let's try to keep our time in Driavarage as uneventful as possible."
The man had a hold of their horse's reins and was leading him forward through the fog and mist. Azalea walked on the other side, her blonde hair in sharp contrast to the light blue shade of her skin. She glanced back at him for a moment and gave her usual amused smirk. Through their bond, though, she sent nothing but support.
"Agreed," Ean said, his voice slightly muffled by the woolen scarf.
"Almost there," Dao said. "Let's put on our friendliest smiles! And make sure our things in the cart are properly covered."
Turning his attention away from the irritating scarf, Ean let his gaze take in Driavarage. From this distance, it did not look any different from Rottwealth or Rensen. Shrouded in mist, Driavarage was a mid-sized village centered around two large buildings. One of the large buildings appeared to be a bunch of shops housed under one roof. The other looked like a large inn, but Ean couldn't be sure. Fifty or sixty humble homes, built from stone and lumber, were shuttered tight against the fog. Most of the houses in sight were a story or so tall.
Through the haze, Ean could make out a few forms moving about.
"Driavarage was the last settlement founded right before the Plague," Dao said without turning around. He had taken on a lecturing tone. "It was founded for the farmers so that they didn't have to live in the towns of Szar or Copinen. Won't even go into why. We'll just say that the type of temperament that suits someone with a strong work ethic and desire to dig in the dirt all day doesn't mesh well with the people from either of those towns."
"Whereas, from the sound of it," Azalea laughed. "I will be bored out of my skin with the people we'll meet here."
"That's a strong possibility, which is why we are headed up to Szar. A much more enjoyable place and only a little out of our way--"
"No." Ean let his irritation at being uncomfortable slip into his tone. "We talked about this last night. It’s dangerous for me to be seen before we reach Novufyr. I only agreed we should stay one night here because we've been traveling for thirteen days, and it would be good to spend one night under a roof. Especially if it is going to take . . .
"Seven or eight days," Dao filled in. "If we are traveling through the farm country at a good pace."
"Because we are in a rush to get caught in this trap . . . " Azalea mumbled loud enough for Ean to hear.
"I highly doubt it’s a trap," Dao shrugged. "I don't know why The Silent King would want to trap you. Like I said, he doesn't sound like he holds you responsible for Ulundkin."
"Says the cat to the mouse," Azalea chuckled this time, then let out a purring sound. "Come eat this cheese I hold in my paw. I don't eat mice anymore. I swear."
"So untrusting. You know, I once knew a girl like you . . . "
Ean ignored their banter. Through his bond, he felt some mistrust from Azalea directed towards Dao, but not as much as she claimed. She was just putting on a show, probably for her own entertainment more than anything else. Better for her to push Dao's buttons now than on a random villager later. Dao could push back just as hard, which would also keep her preoccupied as well. All Ean wanted was one peaceful night.
A wave of curiosity washed over him through his bond. Returning his attention to ahead of him, he found Azalea looking at him with one raised eyebrow. Ean shrugged and gave her a smile.
Weirdo she mouthed with a smirk and returned her attention to Dao.
Ean couldn't help but laugh as they finally entered the village limits.
Dao led the cart past the houses towards the center of the village. Now that they were moving about in the village, Ean began to see more people going about their business. Men and women alike were dressed simply enough, short-sleeved tunics, plain pants of black or brown, and most were covered in the dirt and grime associated with working in fields all day. A few children dodged around the buildings, laughing and chasing each other in some type of game. One was even so bold as to run up to the cart and peer inside before laughing and darting off.
It all seemed rather . . . normal.
"By the gods," Dao growled, "I told you to make sure our things were properly covered, Ean. Now that boy's seen our things."
"Why are you worried? It’s only food--"
Dao moved so quickly to stand right in Ean's face that he almost lashed out in defense.
"It’s fresh food." His voice was low as he bit off each word. "I've told you how important that is to us. If the wrong people find out, we could find ourselves in a lot of trouble."
"I didn't know."
"Exactly. We are in my lands now. You need to trust me. If I say something needs to be done, just do it, and you can ask why later."
"I understand."
"We'll see," Dao glanced in the direction the boy had run, then shrugged. Leaning over the cart, he tucked in the tarp they had used to cover their things. "Nothing we can do about it now. Let's just move along to the inn."
Dao took their horse's reins again and continued to move them further into the village. He walked with a casual gait, but Ean watched the man glance around every so often. The Zu'raian's left hand hovered back and forth between swinging at his side and hovering close to his belt where Ean knew a dagger rested. A knot formed in Ean's stomach. Had he put them in that much danger?
They reached the center of the village unaccosted. The two larger buildings Ean had seen during their approach sat on the north and south side of a large dirt clearing. At the east and west side of the circular area, the ground was peppered with gravel that eventually turned into a cobblestone road in both directions. Next to the building on the north side sat a dozen or so stalls. Men and women filled the tiny marketplace, selling food or crafts or purchasing them.
The sec
ond large building, sitting on the south side of the clearing, was an inn called the Greyweed. The rectangular building easily dwarfed the homes around it. The black stones and dark timber that made up its construction had the wear of a building that had seen a century or two. More than a dozen windows looked out from the second floor, each one shuttered close. A large stable wrapped around the right side and ran back behind the building with a small barn off to the left.
"All right, miss Azalea. Why don't you take our boy into the inn over there, get us a room for the night, and then find a nice, cozy table for us to sit and relax."
"Gladly. I'm tired of being on my feet. Come on, 'my boy'" Azalea said the words with a straight face, but her amusement washed over Ean through their bond like a sudden summer shower.
Entering the Greyweed, Ean found it to be the same as any other inn he had frequented. A large common room with a single hearth was filled with tables, quite a few of which the blue-skinned people of this realm had gathered around. A small bar sat at the far right side, two women slinging drinks and bringing out food from a door in the back. On the other side of the room, Ean could just make out a hallway and the beginning of a set of stairs leading up. While the tables seemed clean, the wood panelled floor was covered in mud and dirt. A clear sign that people who worked the earth were the main patrons of the place.
"I'll find us a table," Ean said after surveying the room.
"You certainly will not," Azalea barked. She grabbed Ean's arm and pulled him close. "You will stick by my side while I get us a room. Then we will take a table that is farthest away from the people in here."
"Of course, of course. I wasn't thinking."
Enemies and Allies (Bound to the Abyss Book 3) Page 18