“You will leave these lands.”
Power from her words thrummed through him, past him, and directed at the horrible creature. The lisincend did not answer.
“You will honor the Accords.”
Amia hammered each word in such a way that Tan felt them tear through him. He could not imagine defying her request.
“Get out of my head!” The lisincend flared heat and disappeared behind the shimmering veil.
Another Aeta vanished in a flash of flame and smoke, dying without a word, leaving only the Mother and Amia. Amia flinched behind him and he felt her stagger, nearly falling. He turned to help keep her on her feet.
She stared past him, toward the lisincend. Her eyes flashed fury at the creature. Her forehead was reddened, almost as if slapped, and her hair smelled like it had been singed, as well. Amia took his hand. Tan held it, too afraid to run.
The lisincend turned its rage on the Mother. Heat rose around her. The veil around the lisincend parted, splitting like a curtain in the shimmering haze, and the creature stepped forward, grabbing the Mother and lifting her chin. Her face sizzled and smoked as it touched her. Somehow, she did not flinch. The scent of burnt flesh hung pungent in the air.
“You still deny that she exists?” He stroked a long nail along her cheek, leaving a blistering streak where it touched.
The Mother kept her expression blank and did not meet the lisincend’s gaze. Her mouth mumbled something silently and she stared down at the stream she had barely touched. Amia pressed into his back, her soft hand reaching up to his shoulder and squeezing. Tan felt her shaking.
The lisincend’s lips parted and a long red tongue darted out. “She will help Incendin find great power,” it growled. The lisincend continued the stroking motion along the Mother’s cheek, searing her flesh with each flicker of its nail, leaving blistered and burned skin behind.
“You know nothing of power,” the Mother whispered. “Only fear. Report that to Fur when you grovel at his feet.” She tilted her head back defiantly.
A low rumbling came from deep within the creature. Smoke started at the Mother’s feet. The fire spread gradually, a controlled crawl. Tan couldn’t imagine the agony the Mother felt. Yet she said nothing to the lisincend.
Then she turned. Her eyes met his, growing wide. Her breathing quickened. “Protect her,” she whispered to him.
He felt compelled to answer. The look on her face begged his help, but what could he do? “I can’t do anything.”
The Mother smiled then and a wave of compassion flowed over him, through him, as it surrounded Amia. “You can do more than you know,” she said. Her eyes widened as the fire spread up past her waist. “For the sake of your people and mine, protect her, son of Zephra.”
The last was said so quietly that Tan found himself leaning to hear over the crackling flames rising up her body, enveloping her clothing and spreading to her hair. Heat and smoke and ash filled the air. Tan coughed and leaned away, pressing Amia back with him as he did.
Finally, the Mother screamed. The lisincend’s mouth twisted in a horrible smile.
The Mother fell in a pile of burning ash and bones as the flames consuming her leapt brighter, fed by some invisible fuel. Amia pulled on his shoulder and he turned to look at her.
Her face was a mixture of emotions. Rage. Sadness. And disappointment.
“Give her to me,” the lisincend commanded. “I am no longer amused.”
Tan stepped back, shaking his head. One of the hounds growled, a low threatening rumble. The lisincend laughed, a horrible raspy sound that tore into his ears. The heat around him increased as his feet began to burn. Knowing what would come next terrified him. But he refused to move away from Amia.
“Release us now,” Amia said.
Her words carried an energy to them, a command, and Tan could not imagine the lisincend doing anything but releasing them.
The creature only laughed again. “I know your trick now. You can sacrifice this boy, but he cannot protect you much longer.”
Tan cried out as the heat flared. Fear coursed through him, pounding, paralyzing him. He smelled the leather of his boots burning yet he could do nothing to move.
Amia looked at him. Her eyes pierced his fear. “Protect me.”
Her voice was a soft command in his mind. He could no more ignore her request than the day could ignore the rising sun.
Pressure suddenly flared in his ears, building so quickly that he didn’t know what he could do to release it. It felt as if his eardrums would burst. Tan screamed from the burning at his feet and the pounding pressure building in his head.
Protect me.
The lisincend smiled again.
That was the last thing Tan saw clearly.
As the pressure in his head increased, he felt the growing compulsion from Amia’s words.
The wind whipped into town in a torrent, sending dirt and mud and leaves flying, nearly knocking Tan off his feet. The heat the lisincend radiated was blown away. The creature stared in the direction of the oncoming gusts of wind before turning its fiery gaze upon Tan. Sheets of rain poured down from the sky. Thunder rolled continuously overhead, beating like a drum, almost in time with Tan’s heart.
The pressure behind his ears built even more.
Protect me.
Another gust of wind threw Tan and Amia forward. He had no sense of direction. He couldn’t see streets or buildings through the whipping wind. Mud and flying leaves blasted past his face.
Protect me.
Entwining his fingers into hers, he pulled her along with him. The force of the wind pushed them, sending them practically flying. The hounds howled against the raging wind, growing stronger, and then another powerful gust blew in, drowning out the hounds’ horrible sounds. It nearly lifted Tan and Amia off their feet as it threw them from the town. Tan clung on to Amia.
Protect me.
Another gust sent them airborne. They flew over a small cart. Tan pedaled his legs frantically as he flew, squeezing Amia’s hand so he wouldn’t lose her.
Then they landed in a tumble.
The wind knocked from his lungs and he lay there, only for a moment, before leaping to his feet. Amia came with him and they ran, letting the wind push them.
Then they were within the trees. The wind still whipped and blasted him forward but the intensity had died. They ran blindly, moving as quickly as they could, afraid to rest and with no clear path in mind. Behind them lay death.
Over the noise of the wind and rain came another sound, something unlike Tan had ever heard. An earsplitting roar raged through the night, flaring hot and wild, before dying quickly, drowned by the wind and rain.
The lisincend screamed in rage. And it was targeted at Tan.
He shivered, running hard, clenching Amia’s hand tightly in his own as he ran into the night on exhausted legs. The horrible scream echoed again before it too was put down by the wind and rain. Tan dared not stop.
19
A Chance to Relax
They raced through the thick pines of the forest. Harsh wind whipped around them and a cold from the upper mountains seeped into his bones. Rain came down in icy needles upon his skin. He dared not slow.
Amia clenched his hand tightly. Any other time he would enjoy the sensation of her soft fingers resting on his, but for now, he thought only of taking another step. They ran blindly, moving along the slope. Tan chose not to run them uphill or down, uncertain where he was and not wanting to disorient himself further. They ran from Velminth, and for now it was enough.
Each step grew harder as a growing exhaustion from the day began to settle into him. From Amia’s slowing steps, he realized she felt the same. Still, Tan dared not slow. The words Amia had spoken to him in Velminth still echoed in his head.
Protect me.
The wind gradually lightened as they moved through the forest. Over the sound of the wind he heard the now familiar howl, the ringing call of the hounds. He cringed without thinking about
it. Amia squeezed his hand, saying nothing. The gesture provided reassurance.
As he listened, sensing the forest, he realized the hounds were far in the distance. Other voices answered the first, each farther than the next. There seemed an angry edge to their baying.
The wind began to shift, growing colder with the crisp bite of the northern wind, blowing down from the upper slopes and through the tight passes. After the dry radiating heat of the lisincend, the cool northern air was a welcome return and provided a reassurance that they had put distance between themselves and the lisincend.
Amia must have felt the same way. She released his hand as they slowed from running to a fast walk. The downpour changed to a gentle cleansing rain. Tan glanced at Amia. She wore a tight expression and he knew she did not allow herself time to grieve. Yet.
“Do you know where we are?” she asked quietly, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.
Tan glanced up at the sky, wishing for a sight of the near full moon. It remained hidden behind the dark and low-lying clouds. “I’m not sure. Probably north of Velminth, but…” He trailed off. The strange wind that had blown them from Velminth left him unable to tell where they were. As far as he knew, they could be anywhere. “I don’t know how we escaped. I don’t think the lisincend are near. Or the hounds.”
A question hung upon her lips left unasked. “Nor I,” she finally said, looking behind her as if wondering whether the hounds and the lisincend were truly gone. “But I’m thankful we did.”
They walked for a while, silent. Fatigue pressed on him, threatening to collapse him under the weight of everything he had experienced. An elevated tree root seemed to reach up and grab his ankle, and he stumbled, righting himself as Amia grabbed his shoulder. She had been lagging behind, each step slowing slightly, and caught up to him in time to prevent him from falling into the detritus along the forest floor.
“We need to stop. Rest for the night.”
Amia nodded. Her eyes drooped, though her head turned at any small sound in the night. “Do you think it safe?”
He felt the pull of the words she had spoken to him earlier in the night. Protect me. “I think so.”
She brushed a hand through her golden hair, pushing it away from her face, and looked around the forest. Even the hounds could not be heard any longer. Finally, she nodded.
Trees thinned in places as the ground became increasingly rocky. Dark, low-hanging clouds had been replaced by gray wisps and the moon occasionally lit the forest with muted light, enough for them to move more safely. Rain finally stopped; only occasional light drops still fell on them.
A large cluster of rocks loomed in the distance. Tan pointed, directing them toward it. The rocks could provide a natural defense for the night. As they climbed toward the rocks, Amia struggled to stay on her feet. She was dressed lightly and not at all for the growing cold. Tan worried how she would tolerate the rest of the night.
“We need to get you warm.” He pulled off his cloak. As he draped it around her, she shook her head as if to push him off, but he persisted. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice earlier.”
“I should be apologizing to you.”
He ignored the comment and led her underneath an overhang of rock where the ground was dry. It formed a small ring of rocks, nearly a cave. They sat and she leaned into him for warmth. Both slipped in and out of sleep in the comfort of the other.
A howl woke them both, splitting the night with its cry. Amia looked at him fearfully, renewed terror on her face. This sound was close. Tan raised a finger to his lips, silencing her, and waited for the call to come again. When it did, it was farther away, and he relaxed again.
“A wolf.” The huge wolves that called these mountains their home were nothing to take lightly, but also were not nearly as terrifying as the hounds. The wolves, he knew, would be scared away by a volley of arrows.
Amia pulled away from him, wrapping her arms around her chest. A distant look came to her eyes. Tan understood her loss; he’d experienced the same today. “I wish I could tell you it will be all right, but there’s nothing I can say that will make it better.”
As she looked at him, a strange sensation fluttered through him. Then she smiled. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Tan shook his head. “The lisincend took my mother from me. Destroyed my town.” He tried to block the memory of the crater that had been Nor.
“I’m sorry,” Amia repeated.
Tan frowned and looked at her. “Not you,” he said. “Incendin. The lisincend.”
She looked away from him. “Only because they followed us,” she began, closing her eyes and shivering. When she reopened them, tears had welled up. “We were making our way across Incendin,” she said, starting slowly. “It’d been years since we traveled their lands, but always we had been welcome, and several of my folk remembered the roads well.”
Letting go of her knees, she leaned back against the cool rock and stared into the darkness. “Mother knew Incendin wares would entice trade, so she pushed us. We traveled deeper into Incendin than even the oldest of our folk were comfortable.” She paused, turning briefly to meet Tan’s gaze before turning away again. “We had gone into unknown areas of Incendin when we first came across them.”
She paused and Tan was uncertain whether she would even continue. “The lisincend?”
Amia shook her head. “Not at first. Hounds.” She shivered again with the memory, as if hearing their harsh and painful cry again. “We have come across the hounds before and know how to avoid them. This time was different.”
“How?”
She shook her head. “Always before we have encountered only a single hound at a time. This time they ran as a pack and chased us.”
She fell silent and Tan let it linger for a moment. “Is that why you left Incendin?”
Amia turned to him and there was a look of fear in her eyes, a haunting he’d not seen before. “No. We were able to evade the hounds. It was as we neared the border to your kingdoms that we began to notice signs of the lisincend. The air drier and hotter. The way the wind died. Mother pushed us hard then, hoping to cross before we came in contact with them.”
“How did you cross the barrier?”
She looked at him strangely. “It’s not meant to keep out Aeta,” she said, as if that answered it.
She fell silent again and Tan didn’t press. When she didn’t speak again, he let the silence settle between them until a question came to him. “The Mother spoke to the lisincend about some Accords.”
“She did,” Amia agreed.
“What Accords?”
Amia tilted her head slightly, considering Tan before answering. “How much do you know of the People?”
Tan thought about the question and realized he knew very little. “The Aeta have visited Nor only a few times during my life. I have nothing but happy memories of the visits, the festivities that accompanied the visits, and the Aeta.” He paused, remembering something his mother had said after meeting with the Mother outside Nor. “My mother once said the Aeta were wanderers with a history filled with sadness.”
Amia nodded slowly and took a deep breath, reaching a hand up and pressing back a strand of stray hair. “We are wanderers,” she agreed. “But it was not always so. Once, our story goes, the People lived in a peaceful land, a place of beauty unlike any other. Then we lived as you do, in cities, off the land, and not out of a wagon.” She closed her eyes, as if imagining. When she opened them, there was a relaxed expression upon her face.
“Something happened. Some great event that forced us from our homeland so long ago that its telling is lost, or protected. The Mothers keep the records, and I have not yet been privy to them.” Her eyes grew moist. “And will not now,” she whispered. Amia fell silent for a moment before continuing. “Since we left our lands, we’ve wandered, always peacefully and carrying no weapon save what we need to hunt.”
“What of the Accords?” Tan asked.
“The Accords grant
the People a certain protection,” she answered, turning to meet his gaze. “Written and agreed upon long ago by the men and kings of the earliest nations, places like Ter and Vatten and Galen before these lands were all bound under a single throne, they are a promise of peace and fair trade. They have been honored by all lands since.”
“Even Incendin?”
She nodded. “Always Incendin. Even during the war.”
“Then why would they violate the Accords now?”
Amia shook her head, and started to answer when Tan sensed something nearby. He raised a finger to his lips to silence Amia. She frowned at him and the relaxed expression she’d worn left her eyes, replaced by a wild fear.
The compulsion suddenly flared within his mind, the request Amia had made back in Velminth. Protect me.
Signaling her to wait, he crept quietly from the rocks, moving stealthily. As he moved, he let his focus wander and stretched out with his senses, reaching his awareness out toward the trees whispering soft susurrus from the wind, the quiet hoot of the owl, the steady chirp of the cricket, using any disturbance he could sense to help guide his feet.
The wind picked up, cold and biting. A slow pressure built in his head, the same that he’d felt the last few days. Muscles tensed with subconscious fear, worry about Incendin hounds and the lisincend threatening to break his concentration. He forced away those fears. The hounds never moved quietly and the cool night air made the lisincend unlikely. Ahead he sensed something amiss, a void in what should be the noise of the night. Tan froze.
Moving as quietly as he could muster, he crept toward the nearest tree, hugging its rough trunk, before ducking from tree to tree toward what he sensed.
Then a dark shape was visible. Tan scrambled quietly into the nearest tree and climbed onto the lowest limbs. He held his body away and tight so he wouldn’t be outlined in the night’s shadows.
Protect me.
The thought suddenly surged to the front of his mind and he reached to quietly unsheathe his knife, holding it tightly in his free hand. As the shape passed beneath him, he dropped, shouting a warning while mindless of the harm he placed himself into, only aware of the need to protect Amia.
Chased by Fire (The Cloud Warrior Saga Book 1) Page 12