The Stones of Kaldaar (Song of the Swords Book 1)

by Tameri Etherton

  “I never realized how spoiled I’ve been,” Taryn joked as they gathered several handfuls of cockleberries. “Even on our remotest digs, we had tents with cots and food cooked for us. Do you always find your own dinner?”

  “Only when necessary. I imagine there will come a time when you are sleeping on a fine down mattress and eating rich foods covered in thick sauces, you will long for air this pure and berries this sweet.” He tossed her a plump, golden-orange cockleberry, and she caught it in her mouth. “A hidden talent,Darennsai?”

  “It’s a game Brandt and I would play.”

  He relished the sound of her voice. Her silence during the afternoon had left him unbalanced.

  He tossed several more, with her catching each one. “Impressive. Any other talents you would like to share?”

  She looked away with a smirk on her lips. “Maybe someday.”

  After their meal, Rhoane lay on his blankets, hoping for a dreamless night. Taryn paced the edge of camp, pulling his attention to her. She stopped before his protective barrier and glanced back to where he lay. Apprehension crossed her features before she stepped through.

  He sat up, watching as she made her way to the river and climbed up the side of the cliff. She never slipped, placing each foot carefully before grabbing hold of the rock above her. A waterfall flowed over the cliff, and Taryn cautiously avoided it and the spray that dampened the rocks around her. There was definitely more to the Aelan girl that he wanted to discover.

  When she pushed herself over the top of the plateau, he debated with himself only a moment before following. By the time he reached the cliff top, the sun hung low over the horizon, its last rays stretching across the land. Several stars glistened like pale silhouettes in the still-lit sky.

  Taryn reclined on her elbows, her face turned toward the sunset. “I thought all day we were going east, but I must’ve been turned around. The sun is setting over there.”

  Rhoane stretched out his long legs and rested beside her. “Yes, in the east, and tomorrow it will rise in the west.”

  “Where I come from the sun rises in the east and sets in the west. No wonder I feel backward.” She glanced to her left. “Is that north?”

  “Of course, and there is south.” He motioned to his right.

  “At least your compass isn’t messed up.”

  The visions he’d had of the world she came from made him shudder with unease. “In a few days you will get acclimated to life on Aelinae.”

  “I hope so.” She looked over the unblemished landscape. “It’s so quiet here. Where are all the people?”

  “At home, most likely.”

  Her laughter startled him in the still night. She lay back, looking up at the stars. “I mean, villages and towns. There isn’t a single light for miles.”

  The last of the sun’s rays dipped below the horizon, and the sky turned from dusty hues to deep indigo, casting shadows across their bodies as they lay on the warm rock. His runes flared to life, igniting the heat he’d been trying to stifle since she’d arrived in the cavern.

  His hand twitched closer to her as he replied. “We are no more than a day’s ride from the nearest village. It is not so remote here as you might think.”

  “Where I come from there are severalbillion people.”

  “I do not know this word,billion. Is that many?”

  She squinted up at the night sky. “Yeah, it is. Maybe as many as those stars up there.”

  The idea of living in such a place, with so many people, sent a chill through him. “It must be terrifying, where you came from.”

  She shrugged against the ground. “It’s what I knew. The quiet here is almost more frightening to me.”

  A swirl of indecision flashed through her and then disappeared. Whatever she’d been going to say, she changed her mind.

  “I don’t recognize these constellations.”

  Sections of the sky in misty nebulae of pinks and purples ranged above them. Rhoane could name every star and its creator.

  “Do you think Brandt is up there somewhere?”

  Rhoane pointed to their left. “He is just there, below that cluster.”

  Taryn followed his outstretched arm. “That’s pretty specific. How can you be sure?” As if in answer, the star blinked. “Oh.” It came out less like a word and more like a catch in her throat. “I miss him,” Taryn said to the twinkling star. She held up her hands, making a heart shape with Dal Tara in the center. “We’ve never been apart. I’m not sure I know how to live without him.”

  A tear slid down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. “You have to trust yourself, Taryn. Brandt’s death will not be in vain, but you must move forward with your life and remember you are not alone.”

  “I know.”

  The conflict he sensed in her stayed him from reaching out to comfort her. She was like a newborn darathi vorsi, timid and frightened, unaware of its grace and beauty or the immense power it would one day wield.

  The oaths he took as a boy and the double bonding made his connection to Taryn a near torment. To tell her of her purpose would ease the burden to be sure, but it would frighten her as well. It was a risk he couldn’t take. Not until he was certain she understood all that was involved. Not just for Aelinae, but him as well. He swore an oath before his goddess to protect Taryn, and to know only her, but Taryn gave no such promise. If she came to him, it would be of her own desire, not out of obligation. On that he would not yield.

  A night creature ghosted above them, and Rhoane stood reluctantly. “We should not be so far from the fire.”

  They made their way back to camp, and Taryn crawled beneath her covers while Rhoane checked his barrier. Satisfied it would keep out man or beast, he settled into his bedroll.

  “Rhoane?” Taryn asked in a sleepy voice. “Are you sure you didn’t see anyone following us today?”

  Prickles of apprehension plucked at the back of his neck. “No, I did not. Nor did I sense anyone. What did you see, Taryn?”

  “Just shadows, I guess. If you didn’t sense anything then it was probably nothing.” She snuggled deeper into her covers. “Good night, Rhoane.”

  “Derth gayledd,” he said to her in Eleri.

  “What does that mean?”

  “May your dreams be light.”

  “What language is it?”

  “The ancient tongue of my people.”

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Indeed it is. Good night,Darennsai.”

  “Derth gayledd, Rhoane.”

  Rhoane stared at the night sky. His dreams would be anything but light. If Taryn sensed something in the shadows, Zakael was the least of their dangers.

  Chapter 7

  SUNLIGHT filtered through the trees surrounding the campsite. Taryn rolled to her back, looking up through the hazy barrier to an endless blue dome. The previous night she’d found a simple tranquility in sharing the night sky with Rhoane. She’d hoped it would last, but her dreams were filled with Julieta’s cries and a Dark god’s laughter.

  During Rhoane’s recounting of the events that led to the Great War, Taryn kept thinking of the void and the seductive pull it had on her. Kaldaar had been sent to theedge of nothingness, as Rhoane called it. What if the void was, in fact, the space between worlds? Then the touch she’d felt, the seductive caresses, they’d come from Kaldaar.

  If Aelinae had frightened her before, her feelings bordered on terror now. A gentle breeze tickled her face, whispering words that sounded much too much like her grandfather.

  “Trust in yourself, dear one. Trust in Aelinae.” A soft chuckle, followed by the scent of cigar tobacco and cologne, left her trembling.

  She untangled herself from the blankets and shuffled to the fire, where a cup of grhom sat on a rock waiting for her. It and her bedroll were the only items that suggested they’d camped there. The rest of the gear had been packed and removed, leaving the area scrubbed of their very presence, void of anyone else but her. Taryn ignored the tremor
of panic that roiled in her gut, sipped her drink, and waited.

  Voices drifted to her from beyond where the horses snuffed and pawed the ground. Rhoane’s protective barrier caught the light, and she hesitated a moment before stepping through. Even with Rhoane’s assurance it would take several more days before Zakael could leave the mountain passages, she was cautious. Without a weapon or the power others in this world had, she was vulnerable. It wasn’t a pleasant feeling or one she was accustomed to having.

  Taryn stepped around a thicket and saw Rhoane with a small group of people. A renewed flutter of apprehension soured the grhom in her belly. Two men and a woman stood with Rhoane, listening intently while he spoke. His voice was too low for her to hear, but by their faces, Taryn could tell they were upset. The woman openly cried. One of the men, tall, with skin the color of molasses and braids brushing his shoulders, wrapped an arm around her and she sank into him. Taryn looked guiltily away, as if she spied upon something she was not meant to share.

  The shorter of the two men caught her attention. Blue ShantiMari flared around him, illuminating his grey hair and clipped white beard. He looked to be about her grandfather’s age, with a lifetime of cares worn on his face. Handsome but not overly so, he dressed in clothing similar to the other men but with subtle differences—a shorter tunic, gloves that reached his elbows, and he didn’t wear a sword.

  He watched her with an inquisitive grin for several minutes before alerting Rhoane to her presence.

  Rhoane jogged to her, a smile on his face. “Good. You are awake.”

  “They don’t look happy.”

  “I have just told them of Brandt’s death.”

  An all too familiar dip in her gut slowed her pace. “Did they know him?”

  “As well as you or I. They are friends who loved Brandt very much. You can trust them.”

  The woman stepped forward, folding Taryn into an embrace. A delicate floral scent filled her nostrils. “My dear girl, it is good to have you home.”

  “Thank you,” Taryn replied automatically. The woman’s silky hair caressed her cheek, and for one curious moment, Taryn could’ve sworn Brandt’s arms wrapped around them both. Dismayed, she pulled away, breaking the connection.

  The tall man—taller than Rhoane by at least a hand—bent at the waist, his black braids falling forward and jingling with the sound of bells. “Welcome home.”

  Then the older man approached and regarded her for a long moment before scratching at his beard. “It’s good to have you returned to us, Taryn.”

  “I hope you’ll forgive me, but if we’ve met before, I don’t remember,” Taryn said.

  The woman laughed, easing the tension in the air. “I would imagine so. You were naught but a babe when you left. I hope you don’t mind if we remember you.”

  She was breathtakingly beautiful, with auburn hair that cascaded in loose curls down her back and framed a face the color of fresh cream. Her eyes, similar in shade and shape to Brandt’s, blazed with intelligence. She held her petite frame with poise and moved with a grace that Taryn, with all her gawkiness, admired.

  She took Taryn’s hand, giving it a squeeze before turning to the men. “Let me introduce you. This fine gentleman you already know. Rhoane, please.” He bowed low, his hand over his heart. “And here,” her voice softened when she indicated the giant man, “is Sir Baehlon de Monteferron.”

  His almond-shaped eyes never left her as he inclined his head. Unsure how to respond, Taryn waved awkwardly. “Hello.”

  The woman turned to the older man and with an unladylike grunt said, “Here we have Alswyth Myrddin. Scoundrel and knave to be sure, but he’s a kind soul, so please have pity on him.”

  Myrddin gave a curt nod in Taryn’s direction. “Aren’t you going to tell her who you are?”

  “Oh, yes, I almost forgot.” The woman curtseyed. “I am Faelara Kaj Endion.”

  Taryn’s pendant hummed against her skin as she appraised the group. “You were all friends of my grandfather?”

  Tears shimmered in the woman’s eyes, giving them an alluring translucency. “We were much more than friends. Brandt was very dear to us.” She folded Taryn into another hug, holding her a moment too long before releasing her. “Now, we should be going.”

  The abruptness of their parting startled Taryn. When she tried to catch Rhoane’s attention, he was already halfway to the horses. The men followed Faelara in the opposite direction, and Taryn hurried after Rhoane.

  When they finished loading the horses, she touched his hand. Their runes instantly sparked to life. “What do I do?”

  A look of confusion crossed his face. “With what?”

  “Them.” She jerked her head toward the trees.

  “Keep up. They will set a faster pace than yesterday.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Taryn snapped her reins at him.

  “Be yourself and listen.” His voice was low as he watched the others, who in turn watched them. “As Fae said, they are friends.”

  His advice did not go unheeded, but she would do more than listen. If they were friends of Brandt’s, they might be willing to help her see that Zakael was punished.

  Her backside rebelled when she pulled herself into the saddle. She was fairly certain she had blisters in places that weren’t polite to mention.

  “How much longer do you think we’ll be riding?” She adjusted her position, finding little relief.

  “At least a sennight.” Rhoane said before clucking his stallion to join the others.

  A week. She groaned and kicked her mare forward. With all of its power, she didn’t understand why the people of Aelinae employed primitive resources. The least they could do was invent comfortable saddles.

  As they moved through the meadow, her stomach growled, and she put a hand over her abdomen. When Faelara gave her a concerned look, Rhoane held back his stallion to hand her a pouch containing dried bread and cheese, along with meat from their meal the previous night.

  Growing discontent settled in Taryn’s thoughts. She didn’t like depending on Rhoane, or anyone, for food, for shelter, for anything. Fields and grasslands sprawled in every direction, an unfamiliar landscape with unknown horrors. Until she knew her way around Aelinae, she would be exactly that—dependent on him or one of the others for her survival. The depressing thought weighed heavily on her.

  Faelara moved beside her, saying in her gentle voice, “Do you see those trees over there?” She pointed in the distance. “That’s the southernmost border of the Narthvier. And over there,” she indicated to their left, “is the Spine of Ohlin. Those mountains stretch all the way from the Summer Seas to the Temple of Ardyn in the far north.”

  At the sound of the familiar name, Taryn shot Rhoane a glance. “Is that where we’re going, to the temple?”

  “No, darling,” Faelara looked away from the mountains toward the north, “we’re headed to Ravenwood, the country home of Duke Anje. He sent an urgent message, so we’re going to offer assistance.”

  “Is that what you do? Wander around helping people?”

  “It does seem that we travel much more than I’d like. The world is a curious place lately, and we go where we’re needed. Today, that just happens to be a day’s ride north.” Faelara reached over to pat Taryn’s leg. “This will give you a chance to see some of the countryside. When we get to Ravenwood, you’ll meet Hayden, Duke Anje’s son and heir. Very pleasant boy and your age.”

  “Which age is that?” Taryn mumbled, distracted by the shadow that had tormented her for most of the previous day. She’d hoped it was a fluke, but its presence once again set her on edge. Each time she tried to look for it, the shadow would dissipate, but if she kept her focus straight ahead, she was able to keep the blot in her peripheral vision. Whoever or whatever it was, it was keeping pace with them but at a discreet distance.

  Faelara gave her a strange look. “The only one you are.”

  “Which is thirty-five in a few weeks?”


  “Yes, that’s right. You and Hayden were born two days apart.”

  Taryn studied her riding companion. Faelara wore a deep green riding jacket with matching hat and split skirt that allowed her to sit astride her horse. Taryn admired how graceful she looked upon her mare and shuddered at how she must appear to the regal woman. Dirt smeared, disheveled, disoriented. Never before had she given a thought to how she looked to others, but being near the elegant woman made her self-conscious. Grimacing at the state of her hands, she picked at a cuticle, tearing the skin.

  Faelara took her hand in her own. “Let’s see if we can’t get you more familiar with your surroundings. Make you feel more at home.”

  The tone of her voice, and slight upturn to her lips, suggested she knew where Taryn had been all those years, but she dared not confirm her suspicions. Rhoane had warned her to keep her past hidden and that’s what she would do.

  She listened with quiet intensity as Faelara explained the topography of the land they traveled. They rode through meadows of thick grasses and past fields gone fallow, the pace faster than the day before as Rhoane had promised. Every so often Rhoane would range ahead to scan the area or Baehlon would hang back to ride behind them, but neither seemed to see the shadow. After a while, she stopped looking for the flicker at the edge of her vision.

  With every rut or mud-filled road they crossed, more knots formed in her shoulders and backside. Her knees were numb from gripping Cynda, and she was certain she’d forever lost all feeling in her hands from clutching the reins too tightly. They stopped briefly for a midday meal and to rest the horses but were back in the saddle much too soon. Myrddin pushed them faster as the afternoon wore on. When dark tendrils stretched across the road and the sun’s rays slanted beyond the trees through dusk, Baehlon turned them down a treelined drive. Too weary to see straight, Taryn barely registered their location until Faelara touched her shoulder.

  “Ravenwood,” she whispered.

  Taryn jerked in her saddle and straightened her posture, her exhaustion a nagging memory. Ravenwood meant a bed. Possibly a shower. Definitely a break from the pounding of riding.