Aria crossed her arms. “Then you know what he’ll do to you when he finds you here.”
“Perhaps.” Savric looked around. “I am surprised that your brother is not here with you.”
Crimson rose in Aria’s neck and cheeks. He’d obviously struck a point of contention. “Alderan has yet to fully understand what we aim to accomplish, but he will soon enough.”
“And what is it that you aim to accomplish? The Ancient Realm has been at peace for two decades. The only thing you will accomplish through war is death and suffering. That isn’t Ƨäʈūr’s way. What righteous purpose could that possibly serve?”
“As a wizard, you must be aware of King Zaridus’s views on mezhik. Or are you too blind to see it?” Vitriol laced her words and strained her voice. “In secret and through shadows he strives to eradicate our kind. A campaign such as his cannot and will not be tolerated.”
The young, scared girl Savric had approached in Daltura no longer existed, and it pained him. Perhaps he should’ve done more than leave her a note that day, but he held no power to change the past. However, he held out hope that her mind could be changed.
He stroked his beard. “Aria, you have a choice in this. You must understand that what you are about to do is wretched and vile and goes against everything you were taught as a little girl. Slaughtering innocent people will do nothing but blacken your soul. Turn back now, Aria. It is not too late for you.”
Aria’s eyes burned brighter. “Don’t you get it? There is no choice to be made. We do what must be done. This world is full of detestable people like King Zaridus, and it must be purged.” Mezhik crackled in her palm.
Savric stepped back and held his left hand up. “My dearest girl, I do not wish to fight you. That is not why I came here.” He held Qotan’s staff in his right hand. Mezhik warmed his palm.
“Yet you challenge me.” Aria thrust her arm forward, aimed at Savric. An orange, red, and purple fireball flew from her palm. Savric conjured a light shield around himself just before the fireball slammed into him. A moment slower, and he would’ve been a human torch.
Two more fireballs slammed into his shield, driving him half a dozen steps backward. The fourth fireball shattered it.
“Əllzíä!” shouted Aria. Yellow vines with red leaves shot up from the ground all around Savric and ensnared him. The leaves, infused with fire, burned through his robes and scorched his skin.
Aria’s strength and knowledge of mezhik astounded Savric. Her skill easily matched his, and he sensed she toyed with him. He needed to get away before it turned deadly—for him.
Aria approached, the red fringe around her irises glowing coal red. “The truth bleeds from your eyes. You’re no better than King Zaridus.” She spat at his feet. “You’re a disgrace to our kind.”
“No, Aria.” He winced as pain burrowed deeper into his flesh. “The hatred you spew is not your own. I can see it in your eyes. The dragon controls you.”
“No one controls me!” roared Aria. The ground shook as dozens of fist-sized rocks rose out of the earth. They circled Savric like a cyclone.
Savric opened his palm. “Bʊəllƨ əllíʈninzh.” Lightning pulsed, crackled, and thundered, splitting the air, lighting the darkness, and shredding the vines that held him in place. The circling rocks exploded into dust clouds.
More rocks shot up from the ground.
Ten times the previous amount.
Aria yelled and slammed her hands together.
The rocks converged on Savric’s position.
Savric slammed the butt-end of Qotan’s staff into the ground and spun into the night, but not before one of the rocks cracked his jaw and bit into his cheek.
† † †
So many faces stared into the distance with black eyes and blank expressions. Calen wondered if they saw at all or if their world remained dark during the daylight hours as well. None of them reacted or cared about him shining torchlight on them.
Between traveling for more than a week in the dirt and mud and the infection turning their skin white and their veins black, the infected all looked similar. Any one of them could be his aunt. Well, at least any one of the women.
Calen and Eshtak searched for several hours without luck. He didn’t know how many faces they’d checked, but it had to have been in the hundreds. Unfortunately, there were literally thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Maybe more.
Tears swelled in Calen’s eyes. “What if we don’t ever find her? What if she’s not here or died along the way?”
Eshtak hugged Calen’s waist. “Eshtak helps friend. Won’t stop.”
“I won’t either.” Calen turned around and ran right into the side of a large man. The man kept walking, unphased by the collision.
Calen started to move on but stopped abruptly. Recollection tickled his mind. He’d seen the man before in Daltura but didn’t know his name.
“Come on, Eshtak!” Calen turned and followed the big man through the eastern part of the camp.
Finally, the man stopped and sat down in front of a blazing fire pit. Turning in a circle, Calen examined each of their faces. His heart thumped harder in his chest when he recognized several others, including Mr. Dougett.
“She must be here somewhere!” Excitement tightened his throat and squawked his voice.
He searched frantically, Eshtak close on his heels. Twice, he knew he’d found her, but they turned out to be someone else when the light reached their faces.
“Aunt Tahmara!” Calen screamed.
She wouldn’t respond, but he couldn’t help himself. He screamed her name again, tears streaking down his face. He swore they’d come close to finding her, but she just wasn’t there. He dropped to his knees and sobbed.
Eshtak knelt next to him and took the torch from his hand. “Eshtak not give up. Friend not give up.”
The torchlight flickered, twisting shadows and distorting faces. Calen gathered himself and wiped his face. Then, at the fringe of the torchlight, he noticed someone lying underneath a blanket, their face covered. He recognized the blanket from his aunt’s bedroom. Yellow, brown, and orange yarn crocheted in chevron patterns. Many blankets consisted of the same colors, but he’d never seen another crocheted the same way.
He crawled over to the person, too nervous to stand on legs he knew couldn’t support him. Eshtak followed with the torch. Calen touched the edge of the blanket. His fingers shook with nerves. The wool yarn, soft to the touch, slid between his fingers. He latched onto it. Held it.
What if it’s not her?
Anyone could’ve found the blanket or stolen it from her. Had she even taken it with her? What if her blanket still lay on her bed at home?
Calen released the blanket and sat back on his heels. He didn’t think he could handle it not being her. It would devastate him. Eshtak must’ve sensed his hesitation. Eshtak handed the torch back to Calen and knelt next to the person underneath the blanket.
Calen’s heart thundered in his ears, and his pulse raced faster than he thought possible.
Eshtak took the edge of the blanket and lifted it up. Calen couldn’t see. Didn’t want to see. Shadows distorted the person’s face.
“Look,” said Eshtak.
Calen refused. How could it be her? He’d never find her again.
Eshtak snatched the torch back and held it over the person’s head. “Friend’s aunt?”
It’s not her. It’s not her.
Calen forced himself to look at the infected person. A woman. Fiery red hair dirtied with mud. Shoulder length. She did look like Aunt Tahmara, but it couldn’t be her. Aunt Tahmara didn’t have a gash on her cheek like that woman did. Aunt Tahmara’s eyes were green, not black.
No, it couldn’t be her.
But it was.
Nine days of searching, and he’d found her. Tears erupted from his eyes once again but this time with joy. Not only had he found Aunt Tahmara, but she still lived.
“Eshtak
, it’s her!” Calen shot to his feet, grabbed Eshtak, and hugged him. Shook him. Squeezed him like he wanted to squeeze his aunt.
Eshtak cried tears of joy with Calen as they jumped around in a circle together. Shadows beyond the torchlight danced with them as well. Somehow, Eshtak had managed to hold onto the torch.
“Friend finds aunt! Friend finds aunt!” cried Eshtak. His enthusiasm warmed Calen’s heart.
They danced around for several minutes hooting and hollering, but not a soul looked their way. Calen didn’t care. He looked to the heavens with tear blurred vision. “Ƨäʈūr, thank you for helping me find my aunt!” He smiled down at Eshtak. “And for giving me a friend.”
Until that moment, Calen hadn’t realized how much he’d longed to have a friend over the years. Never again would he have to wonder what it’d feel like to share moments like those with someone who cared about him. His cheeks ached from smiling so wide. That moment with Eshtak and Aunt Tahmara might’ve topped the one with Savric a few days back. Or at least equaled it. The two most important people in his life had abandoned him, neither by choice, but now he’d reunited with them once again.
And I have a friend.
Calen sucked tendrils of snot back into his nose and wiped the rest with the backs of his hands. “I love you, Aunt Tahmara.”
She pulled the blanket back over her head, never giving him a moment’s glance, but he didn’t care. She was alive, and that’s all that mattered. Master Savric would help him figure out how to save her. Of that, he was certain.
He rubbed Eshtak’s bald head. “Let’s go tell Master Savric that she’s okay.”
Eshtak nodded vigorously. “Yes! Yes! Old friend happy.”
Calen couldn’t help but laugh as he took the torch from Eshtak and started heading back the way they’d come.
Eshtak grabbed his arm and spun him back around. “Come! Eshtak knows way back.”
Apparently, his sense of direction hadn’t improved over the last week. He smiled.
That’s what friends are for.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The aroma of roasted rabbit pulled Rayah up from the depths of a strange and fantastic dream, but she didn’t want to be awake just yet. Another hour or so, and she’d be fully rested. She held her eyes closed and willed herself back into the dreamworld she’d left behind, but her stomach groaned with hunger pangs.
“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll get up.” Heavy eyelids fought her and the morning light, and, when she did manage to get them open, she struggled to see through the blur of colors and light.
What happened last night? Had she been drinking ale? She remembered nothing.
She yawned and lifted her arms to stretch them. Each arm must’ve weighed a hundred pounds. They flopped back down with a smack. A cold, leafy texture met her fingertips.
Rayah tried to lift her head up, but the task proved far harder than lifting her arms had been. “Hello? Is anyone there?”
Her feet dropped like two bags of sand when she swung them over the edge of whatever she laid upon. The abrupt shift in weight almost dragged her down.
“She’s finally awake,” said a rough but distinctly female voice.
“About damn time,” growled a male.
“Aye,” said another male with a thick accent.
Rayah recognized all three voices. They’d been in her dream, but the details had already skewed and faded like they always did after waking. However, her mind clung to the idea of a talking rat.
That’s absurd. She snorted and laughed.
“Rayah?” said Urza.
Rayah reached up and touched her own lips. “Rayyyah. Rayahhh. Rayah.” The word sounded silly and made her laugh harder.
“What the gods did they give her?” asked Rakzar.
“Whatever it be, might find meself some. Ya know, fer later.”
“Don’t even think about it, Normak,” said Urza. “Give her a few minutes, and you’ll understand.”
Rayah’s head swam on her shoulders when she sat up. A hand grabbed her arm and steadied her, but she hadn’t been prepared for the nausea that swept through her gut. She bent forward and let the contents of her stomach fly.
“Oy!” yelled Normak. “That there ain’t right. Nothin’ comin’ up should be squirmin’ aboot.”
“Wormroot,” said Urza. “Pulls death from the blood and bones and helps restore a person’s energy.”
“And how do you know this?” demanded Rakzar.
“Observation. You should try it sometime. I’ve picked up many things over the years.”
“And the vomitin’ be normal?” asked Normak.
“The side effects are different for everyone. Some just get a bit of nausea while others experience full-blown episodes of delusion.”
Rayah belched and felt much better. And then she didn’t. More volume than she thought her stomach could hold came up the second time. The stench easily rivaled a bloated, day old corpse ripening in the summer heat. She leaned over again and spat the acidic taste from her mouth, but the back of her throat still burned.
“Swear, I don’ like ya no more, lass.” Normak stomped about. “Pray that washes outta me boots.”
Rakzar scoffed, “I’ll be praying that it doesn’t.”
The taste of death resided in Rayah’s mouth, coating her tongue. She needed to expel it before she fell into a fit of dry heaves. “Can I get some water?” Someone shoved a waterskin into her hand. It took several swigs and a lot of swishing to lessen the taste.
A few minutes later, Rayah’s surroundings began to come into focus. Urza sat next to her on what she could only describe as a suspended bed. Knitted, knotted, and woven vines stretched between two trees and held them several feet off the ground.
Rakzar leaned against a thick tree with red bark that nearly matched the color of his fur. Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed how well his fur had grown in over the last week. Several of his scars now hid under tufts of fur. Soon, they’d be fully covered and forgotten. Well, at least the physical ones.
Normak stood to the side, his brow scrunched and his jaw tight. She still had trouble reading the dwarf. Oft he looked to be in a fit of rage yet cracked jokes. Perhaps brooding was the only look he had.
Urza held fast to her arm as Rayah slid off the bed and onto shaky legs. She didn’t look down to see if she’d stepped in her own filth. She didn’t want to know.
When Rayah turned around, she saw that they stood at the edge of a small forest village. But she didn’t recognize it. The handful of buildings—if one could call them that—stood between clusters of trees and consisted solely of roofs made from large branches and leaves. No walls. No privacy.
The village residents didn’t resemble any other group of people she’d ever seen. They were humanoid shaped creatures, lanky yet muscular, and wore no clothing of any kind, but they didn’t need to. Brown, black, and red feathers covered their bodies from the crown of their heads down to their ankles. Their large feet were reminiscent of a hawk’s, three splayed appendages forward and one backward, each ending in a razor-sharp, hooked claw. Brown irises filled their eyes, leaving no whites to them, and their beak-like noses hooked down over small lower lips. No discernible ears protruded from the sides of their heads, nor did they seem to have necks. But that could’ve simply been an illusion created by their thick feathers. The males and females were distinguishable by their plumage. The males had dull, brown plumage whereas the females had bright, red-and-gold plumage.
Rayah sat back down. “Where are we?”
“Not sure,” said Urza. “After entering Eshtak’s bag, we found ourselves in the middle of miles of caves. Normak mapped them out for us and found an exit on the face of a cliff overlooking a body of water that stretched as far as the eye could see.”
Rayah looked back over her shoulder. “And how did we get here?”
“Normak discovered a way to climb the cliff face and went for help because we wer
e all in bad shape,” said Urza. “One of the local healers came back with him and mended our wounds.”
“Now that you’re awake, we can find a way out of here,” said Rakzar.
“Why not ask one of them where we are?” said Rayah.
“We’re being tolerated, but the majority of them don’t like us being here. Most of them don’t speak our language either. Even if they told us where we are, their name for it might be different than ours, or we might not even know of it.”
“I see.” Rayah stood again. “How long have we been here?”
“Just over a day,” said Rakzar. “We’re wasting time.”
Rayah turned to Normak. “And you haven’t scouted this place?”
“What I could,” said Normak. “Water to the west and north. South and east are more of an issue. Trees are too dense to run through. Figured yeh’d fly and see what there be.”
“Or go underground,” said Urza.
The succulent aroma of roasted rabbit wafted into Rayah’s nostrils once again. Her purged stomach rumbled with hunger. “I’ll do it, but I’m going to need some food first. Anyone else starving?”
Normak screwed up his face. “Was ‘til ya ruined me boots and me appetite.”
Rayah shrugged. “Guess that leaves more rabbit for me then.”
Normak raised both hands. “Hold up, lass. Might not be starvin’, but I still be hungry.”
Twenty minutes later, the four of them stood at the southern edge of the village. Red spruce trees, tall and thick with spindly, crimson needles and yellow, teardrop-shaped cones, lined the forest edge. Bramble, vines, and bushes covered the forest floor and packed most of the space between trees. Now Rayah understood why Normak hadn’t scouted the area.
With so much undergrowth, Rayah guessed the underground route wouldn’t be viable. She sank into the ground for a quick check and confirmed it. Roots grew in a tangled mess everywhere because of the shallowness of the soil. At best, there might’ve been six feet of soil before hitting dense rock. It made perfect sense, given the cave system beneath them.
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