by Kim Wedlock
His eyes narrowed at the parchment he stared right through as he wondered if his own mages might now be strong enough to identify the myriad of spells they'd cast throughout the city, and his brow knotted further as Drassa's research popped into his mind.
But he chose to push both thoughts away before they could take root. If his own mages were strong enough, they might be able to uncover the spells' nature but certainly not counter them, and as for Drassa, his first report was due in a couple of days. All he could do on that front was wait.
He sighed deeply, tired of there being so little he could do himself. Since becoming Keliceran, he'd given up the ability to see to matters directly. Only brief tasks that required moving openly while in disguise were within his reach, as just as he was too busy to give every task to every operative, no matter how simple a job that might be, he was especially too busy to carry any of them out himself. He'd had to remind himself countless times that, as the keliceran, he was in the ideal position to do what was best for the country, to truly protect it...but knowing how often his hands were tied by the Crown or Lord Malson himself, he couldn't help thinking he was actually doing less.
The task he'd just sent the woman on would have been well within his abilities, and quick enough that he could have taken the time to handle it. But if he happened across Malson's path in the palace - and so soon after their meeting, he could well be - he would be recognised immediately. It was a chance he couldn't take. He couldn't allow the liaison or the Crown to find out that an operative from Skilan had gotten into the palace - presumably years ago for him to have gained enough trust to be put in charge of the guards protecting the king's immediate family. To say that the Arana would look foolish would be an understatement. Not only was it their job to gather intel from across the borders, but also to safeguard and protect their own. But just as they changed their tactics in order to remain undetected, so too would their enemies, and that meant that both sides would make their winnings, and take their losses. It was an ever-evolving battle. But the Crown wouldn't see it that way. They never saw anything that way. The world was black and white; to their eyes it would unequivocally be the Arana's fault because subtlety and deception was their domain, and it would cast them into unreasonable disrepute.
In the end, the only thing the Arana could do was ensure that the other side failed more often than not, and that, should the enemy manage to get the information they sought, they rendered it useless by uncovering the plans made in response. In such cases, the Crown would never have to know - and, indeed, they never once had.
But despite his pride in that fact, for the first time that day he felt the familiar hopelessness begin to creep through him. He rubbed his head to try to suppress it, but as he took a deep breath and envisioned his river, hoping it might help to soothe him again, his stomach growled and he was suddenly aware of just how empty he felt.
He sighed in defeat and pushed himself away from the window, leaving the city behind as the sun was consumed by the returning cloud. It was three o'clock, and while there were still a few papers on his desk, his good mood that morning had allowed him to get plenty done and leave him with a quieter afternoon. He'd taken to accidentally skipping meals lately - he'd been too busy to remember to eat - but now it seemed he had the time to notice, and he suddenly found himself stuck firmly on the thought of a thick, sweet and tangy tomato soup with warm, crusty bread. It was a simple meal and all his imagination seemed able to muster, but at that moment, it sounded to him like the bounty of a god.
As his stomach growled in zealous agreement, he left the office and all of his tensions behind, urgency and an unpleasant moment of light-headedness and nausea powering his steps. He couldn't recall if he'd even eaten breakfast that morning.
Chapter 11
The sun had only just dipped beneath the south-western horizon, but the steep valley had cast its shadows long before, plunging the region into an early dusk despite the glimpses of lighter sky above them. The setting was eerie, still but for the hoot of the occasional owl that had risen early to take full advantage of the darkness, or the scuffle of leaves as its prey dashed for cover. And when the black fingers between the trees began to merge into a perpetual sheet of night, Aria's complaints joined the disturbance. She was cold, hungry, sleepy and uncomfortable in the saddle, and while the others were inclined to agree on all counts, there was simply nowhere to stop and pitch camp. The horses' tired hooves churned up the muddy ground as they followed what was little more than a narrow trail, carved and trampled more likely by animals than hunters, and the only grass that grew flecked the steep slopes to their left while a wide river ran along their right.
They were forced to ride on through the thickening darkness, and when rain began to fall, their spirits dropped with it. Mercifully, only a light drizzle reached them; the towering trees took the brunt, but the cheer in that fact was not easily seen. The path ahead appeared endless, the landscape unchanging, and none of them had any clue how long they'd been riding when the conclusion that flat ground was an impossibility finally struck.
But just as they began to resign themselves to the idea that they'd be travelling all night, the slope to their left began to lower and a near-level gulley cut through it. It was little more than a dried out, seasonal stream - a month from then the channel would surely flow across the trail and feed into the river, but as it presently stood, it was little more than a path, and the small stones that littered its length provided a drier surface as the rain filtered through them to the ground beneath.
It wasn't ideal, but it was the best they were going to get; none were about to turn their noses up at it. The trees would protect them from the worst of the rain, there was grass for the horses to graze, water to drink and wash in, and the small pebbles would keep them, their bedrolls and their blankets from getting much more than damp as they slept.
But as they led the horses to the top of the river bank and began unhooking their belongings, something grasped Rathen's elbow and tugged him suddenly to one side, back towards the trail.
"Don't you dare do that again," a close voice hissed, and Rathen looked around to find Garon's weighted grey eyes burning into him. He snatched his elbow away, but the inquisitor took a short step closer and glowered at him before he could respond. "I told you you were to stay with me at all times," he continued harshly, his voice just low enough that Anthis and Aria wouldn't hear. "I told you not to wander, I told you not to stray--"
"I am not a child," Rathen hissed, turning squarely towards him and keeping his voice just as low and just as venomous. "And just what would you have had me do? I--"
"I would have had you do as you've been ordered! Inform me of the situation, by all means, but don't you dare run off by yourself! I am responsible for every move you make and every single thing that comes of it. You might be feeling more comfortable now we're in the middle of nowhere again, but this isn't your home. Anyone or anything could be out here, and aside from what could have happened to you, you abandoned Aria when you ran off!" He ignored the mage's already enraged expression darken. "What if neither I nor Anthis had noticed you leave and something had happened to her? We were in ditchling territory! What were you thinking?!"
Rathen opened his mouth to spit a response, but Garon cut him off with another half-step closer. "I am in charge here," he growled menacingly as Rathen equally stood his ground, "do you understand that? I'm not just providing you with an excuse to step back into the world for a little holiday - you would not have been called upon at all if the situation didn't demand it. This whole matter will require co-operation on a number of different fronts, and that means we need clear leadership and someone with the authority to override the rules to get us where we need to be. And that is not you. Not anymore. You will not compromise my authority in front of anyone, nor the success of this matter, again."
Rathen scowled at him, his dark brown eyes shadowed by fury, but his lips remained tightly closed, as though he might spill every singl
e hateful thought he had at that moment if they parted even a fraction.
Garon stared at him, unaffected by his rage nor his efforts to hold his tongue, and even if Rathen had been inclined to try, none of the inquisitor's thoughts were clear to read in his eyes. "I understand why you did it," he said a long moment later, though he didn't take that half-step back even as he straightened, and his voice barely softened despite his intent, "I don't disapprove of that. But you want my protection just as much as I need to provide it. Don't forget that, for anyone's sake." Then he stepped past the silently seething mage, having said all he had to on the matter, and left Rathen clenching his fists as a fire erupted in his core.
"I told you you still fit 'Sahrot'."
Rathen's eyes flashed and he whirled around to shoot another venomous look towards the officer. But though there were plenty of things he'd like to say - such as reminding him that he'd not agreed to anything in any official capacity and that, should he wish, he could just turn around and leave - he remained silent, his lip curling. He doubted his tongue would even work in such a rage.
Aria approached him tentatively as Garon began unhooking his blanket, and while Anthis sent a curious glance towards them both, he didn't present either with his question.
"Is everything okay?" She asked as he forced his face to relax, though he succeeded only in weakening his snarl.
"Fine," he said, managing at least not to snap at her, and he finally pulled his eyes away from the inquisitor's back to the river bed, noticing immediately that Aria - it could only be Aria - had set her bed roll on the slope of the bank instead. He couldn't help a smile. "You'll roll out of that."
"It's raining," she explained, as if her logic was flawless, "I don't want to get swept away with the river when it comes, so I set it on the river bank. I tried to tell Anthis to do the same, but he said he was heavy enough not to get washed away, so I think you'll probably be fine, too."
"Well, that's good to know." He followed her back up the slope to lay out his own, stepping as carefully through the mud as he could to maintain what little dignity remained after his scolding, but faltered as a wave of panic flooded his chest at the shrill, avian screech that pierced through the air, stopping him dead as soon as he reached the top. A thick silence followed, blanketing the area even as the eerie sound trailed and reverberated through the trees. Everything around them fell still in its wake.
They turned sharp eyes to the leaves high above them, searching quickly for the source, and even the horses froze.
Rathen snatched Aria close as her eyes flicked about feverishly. "What was that?"
"I don't know," he replied quietly, still searching the boughs, "but it's big, and it's close."
It came again, splitting the stillness, and the sound of shattered branches and whipping leaves joined the cacophony behind them.
They spun in a flash and stared up at the dark shapes silhouetted against the night's sky. Garon immediately drew his sword and spat. "Harpies. Gather everything and mount up - quickly!"
They knew there was no time, but they tried anyway, throwing the bedrolls and blankets back over the saddles without sparing a moment to fix them down. But by the time Rathen had gotten Aria up onto the horse and the others were prepared to move, the winged beasts were almost upon them, the moonlight glinting vividly across their fierce, yellow eyes and flesh-rending beaks.
Shooting a glance over his shoulder, Rathen knew he had little choice. With a curse, he flexed his fingers, forming the seals and signs in a expert moment even as Garon ordered him not to, and from nowhere a gust of wind swept across the flight and sent all seven spiralling away, a din of squawks rising in a mixture of fury and surprise.
"Get on the damned horse!" Garon yelled as he and Anthis kicked theirs into a gallop, but Rathen was already half way up and urging it after them before he was even in the saddle.
The harpies recovered from the blast disappointingly quickly, catching themselves in the momentum and arcing back around, but the horses had still gained enough of a head start to keep out of their reach. They pounded down the stream before fleeing up into the forest, wending through the trees in a panic as they carried themselves to safety, and their riders only by chance. All eyes were fixed to their heading. Only Aria dared a backward glance, and though hers widened in horror at the sight of the dark creatures, torsos of humans and the wings of eagles, she didn't loose a scream. "They're getting closer, Daddy," she warned him fearfully, her voice shaking and higher pitched, "do something, please!"
Another shrill screech rent the air, drowning out his response. A second followed, then a squawking voice screamed over the thumping of the horses' hooves: "you step into a war you do not belong!"
"And chosen your side too easily!" Shrieked another.
None of them looked around nor questioned their meaning. They remained focused only on escaping their savage pursuers, but in their fixation they had no chance to work out where they were going. They could be riding towards open ground where they would be free to run in a straight line, but their assailants would be just as free to attack them from above; or perhaps towards a lake or a sudden drop or rise where they would certainly corner themselves.
Rathen cursed and began to form the seals to another spell, but a small blue light caught his eye from up ahead, a flame that had flickered suddenly into existence, suspended in the air like a burning torch bug.
He dropped his hand at the sight of it, abandoning his endeavour as Aria gasped and pointed hopefully towards it.
A shout of alarm rose from the lead as Anthis yanked the reins to force his horse around it, and Garon quickly mirrored his actions. But while they fought to avoid it, Rathen did not. "Follow it!" He yelled, already pulling his horse in the direction the tiny blue light began to float, and offered no explanation to the confused glances shot back towards him. "Trust me, just follow it!"
He ignored Garon's growl of frustration as the two bowed around, falling in alongside him while weaving through the trees, and the harpies similarly followed suit. But the light led them into denser woodland where their aerial pursuers couldn't manoeuvre so easily, and they were soon forced above the treetops. If they could track them through the leaves, they could easily get ahead of them and cut them off - but here there were no breaks in the canopy, and the ethereal flame's chaotic turns confused them all too easily.
The next shriek that froze the air came from a distance, and only then did any of them dare to look above and behind them, and upon the last, a final wail of defeat, they pulled in their horses' frantic pace with thudding hearts.
The light slowed with the animals' exhausted trot, and when it burned out of existence as suddenly as it had appeared, Rathen breathed a heavy sigh of relief and finally pulled his mount to a stop.
"What was that?" Anthis whispered, his eyes still glued to the treetops despite little to no light to see by.
"That," Rathen sighed as he slid off of his horse, "was our salvation."
Another, larger flame sparked alight a few feet away, startling both Anthis and Garon, and its eerie light reached across the rough and notched bark of the surrounding trees, as well as the woman who stood beside it.
Garon watched her carefully while Anthis's eyes widened in further surprise, riveted by her shapely form, the picturesque mess of dark waves, curls and ringlets that fell over her shoulders, and her confident stance that only further accentuated the curve of her hips. His fright was forgotten. "I had no idea salvation was so beautiful," he murmured to himself.
"You," Rathen declared as he walked towards her, noting as he did so a weave of sensory spells form a protective dome over the area, "are a life saver."
Her perfect lips curved into a smile and she accepted his firm kiss, leaning into his grip as he slipped his arms around her waist. Garon and Anthis stared at the two in another wave of bafflement, while Aria bounced over excitedly.
"How did you know we were here?"
"Oh, Rathen," she tutted, rolling he
r dark, emerald eyes and stroking his rough cheek, "the same way I always know. Though," she added, peering past him to the others, "I do have to wonder at why." Her eyes narrowed as she stepped leisurely forwards, pausing to flash Aria a familiar childish grin, and she approached the two men as her lips pursed thoughtfully. She stopped in front of Garon first, her sharp gaze studying him closely though her eyes revealed nothing of what she was thinking. She noted his sword, his clothing, his stance, his size, but as they lifted and pierced his eyes to analyse them just as deeply, an uneasy frown creased his brow and he shifted uncomfortably. Rathen would have been surprised by his response had he not been just as familiar with that unnaturally studious gaze.
A long moment passed before her attention suddenly flicked towards Anthis, leaving Garon with still no hint as to her thoughts, and though he stared back widely, enraptured now by the lively depth of her eyes, he soon received that same scrutinising stare. Her eyes penetrated his as if looking into his soul, and he quickly began to fidget as nervously as Garon had.
Then, as abruptly as she had from the officer, she turned away from him, apparently satisfied, and walked back towards Rathen with her slender hands resting upon her swaying hips. "Well?"
"Magic!" Aria beamed. "Daddy's fixing it."