If Talus was the problem, then they were doomed, because none of them were capable of fighting off a King’s Warrior whose sword was bigger than Bevan.
First she tested each of her wards, little help they’d been. Next she ensured there wasn’t a camp of King’s Warriors waiting nearby for everyone to fall asleep before attacking. Satisfied her family was as safe as she could make them, she returned to the stump where she’d rested when Cullen triggered her ward. The sand dunes rising up on the horizon only a few hundred feet away looked imposing.
Tomorrow, they would set out into that unfamiliar terrain. She sat and buried her face in her hands. Oh, Mam, how am I going to keep our family safe?
A hand settled on her shoulder.
Gilly squealed, jumped up and swung around, arms extended, her fingertips tingling with the flare of a protection spell. Then she recognized the man who had touched her. It was neither Cullen nor Talus, but Tom. Under moonlight, his skin looked pasty and beads of sweat dotted his forehead. He dropped to his knees.
“Tom!” she said in alarm and ran to his side.
“Strangers at camp,” he breathed out, head dipping forward. Any moment he would fall forward and smack his face on her stump.
“You shouldn’t have followed me. I know about the strangers. We invited them to camp. You were safe there.”
Lie. As safe as the rest of her family, then. Safer than stumbling around in Tom’s fever-ridden state.
“King’s Warrior.”
“I know.” Kneeling beside him, Gilly tipped him toward her – so little effort – until he slumped, his forehead coming to rest on her shoulder. “One of the strangers is a King’s Warrior called Talus. The other is Cullen, a minstrel.”
“Don’t like him.”
“Bevan agrees with you.”
“Know him.”
From where? Tom had lived in Nadym all of his life. Had the minstrel come there to entertain? “Tom, are you sure?”
His forehead was burning hot against her neck. In his current state, she was surprised he knew her.
His breath was a warm breeze of lemony herbs as he said, “Be careful.”
Gilly’s alarm spiked. Careful about what? Cullen or Talus, who were both near her sleeping family?
Tom had fallen asleep so she couldn’t ask him. She wasn’t strong enough to carry him back to camp so she laid him on the ground. Just as well. If Tom did know Cullen, and his be careful had sounded like it had been an unhappy acquaintance, then she didn’t want Cullen recognizing Tom while he was in this vulnerable state.
Better to let him sleep here in safety. She fetched some fallen brush to hide Tom and hurried back to check on her family. At the campsite, Gilly found everyone asleep. Her thundering pulse quieted and a shiver of relief washed over her. After Tom’s feverish, be careful, she’d half expected to find every one of her family’s throats slashed. They were all safe and the two strangers looked asleep.
Tired as she was, Gilly didn’t wake Marton for his watch, preferring to let him rest. That decision also allowed her to keep a closer eye on Tom.
Still an hour before dawn. She might as well put it to good use and replenish her herb supplies before tomorrow’s trek into the desert. The better prepared they were, the quicker they could all leave this place that no longer seemed so safe.
After dropping her sack full of medicinal plants and edible berries by her bedroll, Gilly returned several times to refill her family’s canteens with fresh water. That she managed to do so without waking anyone showed how tired everyone was.
On her final trip with Skye’s canteen filled, Talus turned over. Gilly froze. He muttered something unrecognizable. He sounded angry. His right arm swung, fist clenched as if wielding a sword.
Five heartbeats later, he stilled, his arm dropped to his side and he began to snore. She breathed a sigh and glanced at Cullen. He still lay unmoving. Creepy fellow.
She tiptoed away as the sky lightened, signaling the start of a new day.
If all remained quiet and peaceful, today, after they sent their two unexpected guests on their merry way to wherever they were headed, then she would get Marton’s help to load Tom onto their horse.
Time to check on her patient. She didn’t want Tom stumbling back to camp before Cullen and Talus had left.
A few yards from her stump, her ears started to ring. She shook her head but the annoying peal persisted like a warning bell. Soon her head began to pound. She was probably overtired. Should have woken Marton.
By the time she reached Tom, her head was throbbing and sleep beckoned like a strong undertow. She checked under the branches and found Tom fast asleep, with a smile on his face. She’d never seen him so peaceful and happy but the air thrumming with unease obliterated her enjoyment.
Someone else was coming.
No, not someone. Something.
Must stand. Warn Marton. Her limbs wouldn’t move and her head grew so heavy it dipped toward the ground. Then darkness descended over her thoughts like a heavy blanket.
* * *
A steady melodious chanting pulled Gilly away from her dreams. She stretched lazily. That was the best sleep she’d had in days. Her stomach grumbled in hunger. How long had she been asleep? Marton said they were supposed to leave at sun up. She blinked open her crusty eyes to find the sun riding high, blinding her. She shaded her face. It couldn’t be noon, surely? Why hadn’t Anna woken her?
“Lord Aton!” a strange voice called out. Others echoed the name, the sounds moving further away with each shout.
Gilly sat up. At first, she couldn’t make out where she was. Not near her stump, where she’d fallen asleep. Tom was next to her, but so was her family. A glance around confirmed this wasn’t their campsite. All around them were large colorful tents and when she clenched a hand, her fingers sank into sand.
There were people everywhere. Not King’s Horsemen. Nor King’s Warriors. These people had dark skin and eyes as colorful as their tents. They were dressed in flowing robes of dark brown, amber or gold. They stared at her with shy smiles.
Skye sat up on the other side of Tom and gasped.
Not a dream then.
Bevan sat up beside his sister, and then, with a cry, ducked under his sheet.
Gilly crawled past Tom toward Anna and poked her. “Wake up.”
Her sister rolled over and said, “Shush.”
“Anna,” Gilly said, hysteria a note away, “Wake up!”
Anna groaned. “Head hurts, Gilly, shut up. Marton, I told you we should have left her at that cowshed.”
“More than your head’s going to hurt,” Gilly replied, “if you don’t wake up. Now.”
Anna sat up and rubbed her eyes. “These feel like all the dust in the Kocheya has become wedged into them overnight.” She yawned wide and stretched.
“Gods of horse manure,” muttered a dry voice from the other side of Bevan. “I swear I’ll never sip another drop.”
Tom! He was sitting up and looking around.
“Swearing!” Anna said. “What else can you expect from a drunkard?” Then she focused beyond him, and her mouth dropped open.
Marton scrambled to his feet.
Cullen stood as well.
Talus was crouched in a fighter’s stance, sword drawn.
Gilly leapt to her feet and then groaned as pain shot from her left foot to her hip. Her leg was apparently as reluctant as her sister to wake up.
Movement stirred among the watching crowd.
A man in a white robe came forward. His skin was as dark as his people, his eyes a brilliant sky blue. Not a wrinkle indicated his age and his black hair fell in ringlets to his shoulders, glinting like moonlight at midnight. Arms akimbo, he wore a pleased smile. “Strangers, indeed.”
He spoke Rycan in an accent that tickled Gilly’s eardrums. He studied each of them in turn, appearing to grow more amused, until finally his gaze touched Gilly. His smile faltered, then turned brilliant. “No, not strangers at all, but long awaited gue
sts.” He gestured expansively toward his people. “Welcome to Erov.”
The crowd echoed his words like an intonation. “Welcome to Erov.”
“Erov?” Cullen said. “That’s a myth. It’s not real.”
Gilly blushed at his rudeness. Obviously Erov was no mythical city. They were in it. Brought into it in a manner that was surely no minor magical sleight of hand. That conclusion both thrilled and terrified her because it implied High Magic must be at work.
Cullen flicked his hand with contempt. “Erov is the stuff of children’s dreams and nightmares.”
“Dreams of children are the future of the world,” the white-robed stranger answered, “their nightmares a chance to change that future.” Then he focused on Gilly and his features softened. He swept her a deep bow, a flamboyant gesture that involved elaborate movement of both arms. “My people name me Aton. You honor us with your visit to our paltry encampment, my lady.”
Stunned, Gilly didn’t know what to say and then gave a hasty curtsy. Her game leg buckled. She barely caught herself before she fell. Face flushed, she straightened and said, “I am Saira.” I didn’t say that out aloud, did I? “I mean Gilly, my name is Gilly.”
“As Chief Councilor of Erov, I bid you welcome, Lady Saira-Gilly.” Lord Aton’s twinkling eyes were infectious.
Her sister pushed her aside. “Please don’t mind her, our servant gets confused around strangers.”
Gilly bit her lip on the words, I’m your sister, not your servant! This lie between them had to end soon. She had stomached Anna’s ill treatment when her sister thought her a stranger. Now Anna knew Gilly had saved her as a baby, her slights stung deeper. The blade sharpened with a personal edge.
“I am Anna and this is my husband. Marton.” Her sister gestured Marton forward. “He is in charge.”
Marton tried to emulate Lord Aton’s gesture and his right arm swung dangerously close to cuffing Anna.
Her sister ducked, and Gilly hid her grin.
“We didn’t realize we had camped in your village,” he said.
Understatement, since they’d been sleeping on dirt-packed ground and now there was sand squishing between their toes.
“We didn’t mean to intrude,” Marton continued, as steadfast as only a practical blacksmith could be, when faced with the impossible. “We were on our way to Perm, sir. Are you able to tell us how to get there from here?”
“We know of many cities and many people,” Lord Aton said. “We can speak of those later. First, I insist that all of you enter my home and accept my humble hospitality.” He stepped around Anna and offered Gilly his hand, palm up. “You and your friends are welcome, Lady Saira-Gilly.”
Gilly stared at him dumbfounded.
He took her hand and wound it around his arm so she had no choice but to follow. He matched his tread to her halting steps.
“Lady!” Anna’s shocked voice faded into the crowd’s excited chatter.
Lord Aton’s people beamed their smiles of curiosity and welcome at her. Having hid from attention all her life, blending into the background and avoiding confrontations, Gilly found being their focus overwhelming. In her heart though, if she were truthful, like Anna, she had really longed to belong, to be accepted, to be loved.
Now, amidst such unequivocal acceptance by all these strangers, she was excited and terrified. She tightened her grip on Lord Aton’s arm, and his strength flowed into her.
There was something else odd going on. That buzz she’d been hearing was not just these Erovians’ chatter, but also their thoughts and emotions being broadcast at a more intimate, subconscious level. Her mind reeled as pictures flitted by of desert flowers, cool night winds, clear blue skies, and hot healing sunlight. The flashing of a hundred images and the emotions they evoked made her giddy.
Lord Aton led Gilly into a lavish marquee of overlapping tents. He invited her party to change out of their traveling clothes and bathe in the soothing waters of Erov before they sat for their meal.
Erov has water? Perhaps a side effect of all this magic. The air thrummed with power. How is it that the horsemen didn’t detect this place? It surely gleamed like a sunbeam.
Within the large tent, men and women led them to separate quarters. Anna insisted on remaining with her children and husband.
Several females followed Gilly into her room and insisted on helping her change. They chattered constantly in a language she didn’t understand. Try as she might, she couldn’t convince them she was capable of taking care of herself.
She was taken to a secluded pool and unclothed. She sank gratefully into the warm waters and her muscles began to unwind. Her whole body relaxed in the gloriously scented bubbling water. Her leg stopped aching and she rested, leaning back against the pool’s stonewall. One of the girls massaged her scalp with soap and Gilly enjoyed the soothing sensations.
She must have dozed off because the next moment she awoke to find a tall young woman standing beside the pool. Skin black as ink, smooth and shining with life like the rest of the girls, she bowed displaying a gentle smile. “Lord Aton awaits you.”
I’m late! Gilly hurried to get out of the pool. In one swift move, her new attendant pulled her up and onto the landing and handed her a thick towel.
“Thank you.” Gilly dried and covered herself, acutely aware of each of her scars and her ungainly posture beneath this woman’s curious gaze.
This time, when she said she was capable of dressing herself, the young woman graciously nodded assent. She placed an evening robe and a beautiful pair of sandals on the bed and left Gilly to fend for herself.
Once dressed, Gilly followed the lure of mouth-watering aromas to a room taken up by a low three-sided supper table. Her family was among the twenty or so guests, all of whom were seated on cushions placed on the floor. She was indeed late.
Lord Aton was seated at the table’s center. The tall young woman who’d helped Gilly from the pool sat to his left. Gilly’s family and friends were on the right hand limb of the table. Even Tom was there, looking pale but not as sickly.
Guilt stung that she had not checked on him before seeing to her needs. She hurried to his side. Before she could sit, Lord Aton was beside her.
His delighted smile brought a matching one to her lips. “I’ve saved you a seat by me.”
His singular attention was inexplicable. She glanced with unease at her family to see how they took his behavior.
Anna seemed utterly astonished, her eyes appearing twice their normal size. The children and Marton didn’t notice at all, as they gleefully tasted from the variety of dishes placed before them.
While Talus only had eyes for the pretty women serving him, Tom and Cullen didn’t look pleased as Lord Aton led her away to the head of the table.
“Lord Aton,” Gilly began, wanting to return to her family.
“Please, call me Aton.” He urged her to sit at his right side.
“Then you must call me, Gilly,” she replied checking on the pillows placed on the ground beside the table with concern. The simple act of sitting would prove embarrassingly awkward. It did. She had to stick her left leg straight out since it refused to bend to allow her to position herself cross-legged as the others sat around the table.
“A pity my son Jarrod could not join us,” Aton said once he took his place. He passed her a dish of pitted dates. “But we are blessed to have his betrothed, Mayla, here with us.” He nodded to the young woman on his other side. From beneath long lashes, she gave Gilly a gracious nod.
She’d been asked to sit at Aton’s side, as his son’s wife-to-be had been? Why? Gilly did some quick counting. Aton could be anywhere from forty summers old or more. If he had a son, he might have a wife. Where would she sit?
“Is your wife here?” She looked around the table.
“My wife died many years ago. It was a sad time for our people. She was well loved.”
Gilly received a picture of a beautiful woman in green flowing skirts and matching top. The ima
ge was accompanied with such love and loss, her heart squeezed in sympathy. “Your son must miss her.”
“Jarrod was but a boy when she departed our world, but you are correct. Every day, his eyes reflect the same sorrow I see in your gaze.”
“Whatever do you mean?” Anna asked from down the table.
Gilly hadn’t realized her sister was following their conversation.
“Have you never wondered about your Gilly’s past?” he asked her sister.
“Of course not,” her sister said, not batting an eye at his phrasing of, “your Gilly.”
Gilly’s pulse, however, shot up. Was Aton aware of her connection to Anna? Seemed the most likely reason for saying her name like that. These people could share thoughts. Had he read hers? And if so, she didn’t want him spilling her secrets, not in front of everyone. Especially not in front of Talus, who was a King’s Warrior. Besides, she wanted to be the one to tell Anna that she was her sister.
Desperate to change the subject, Gilly said, “Where is your son?”
“Jarrod is researching a recent event in the Makakala Range. Erovians are the historians of Ryca. We record all major events. As my successor, my son is training in all aspects of the art.”
“How do you manage that?” Cullen asked, seated beside
Talus. “Why have I never heard of your people’s travels? As a minstrel, reciting history is also my pastime.”
“You have an inquisitive mind, Cullen. I have your name correct, I hope?” Aton’s tone put grave doubt about Cullen’s name. Seeing the minstrel squirm caused her doubts to firm into certainty. The children were correct, something about Cullen was not right.
The minstrel offered one of his spectacular smiles, which immediately made her wonder why she’d doubted him.
“What you do, Cullen,” Aton’s lips twisted as if the minstrel’s name left a bad taste in his mouth, “is tell stories. What we do is record the truth. Is it any wonder our paths never crossed?”
Gilly held her breath. Aton had just accused the minstrel of being a liar.
Hidden: Tales of Ryca, Book 1 Page 6