Well, doubts or not, he acknowledged, weary of internal debate, she is mine to protect.
He had given his word that he would Join with her upon their arriving at Treygon. He neither feared nor relished the idea, but accepted it as his duty. He only hoped both his efforts and those of his men would not be wasted. Hoped this young woman would prove that she was indeed who Council proclaimed her to be.
Out of the darkness, he saw Norband, his Chief Captain and second-in-command, approaching. His friend’s eyes gleamed in the faint light of the sleeping stables. Ilgard could feel his amusement.
What is it? the High-Chief asked silently, using the shared Simathe mindspeech.
One corner of his subordinate’s mouth twitched upward as he replied in like fashion, relaying the tale of the Artan’s foiled escape.
At its conclusion, Ilgard laughed out loud, the sound melting into the cool night air. She had courage after all: courage of a foolhardy nature, at least. What could she possibly have thought to gain by escaping her bedchamber?
He shook his head to dispel his thoughts. It was no matter. She’d been returned to her chamber and would not flee again. Of that, he had no doubt.
Farewell to Laytrii
I’d finally managed to doze off, my head nestled on the pile of sheets and blankets I hadn’t bothered to untie, when they woke me at dawn. A light tap on the door and Rosean entered, followed by the beautiful Spinner, Lady Elisia. With a cheerful “Good morning,” she claimed a seat next to me on the bed.
Rosean headed straight for the armoire and began pulling out the clothes I’d wear today. The rest of my belongings had already been packed and readied for the journey ahead.
Shoving my hair out of my face, I lowered my feet to the floor, covering a yawn with my palm. Smiling, Elisia brushed away a few stray hairs I’d missed.
“You did not sleep well.”
“Not really,” I grimaced.
“We heard of your…actions, the night before.” She looked pointedly at the pile of bedding. “I do not think that was your wisest course.”
“No kidding.”
She changed the subject. “I do wish you had rested better, for you face a long and difficult journey. Scant sleep will make it harder.”
“Yeah, I’m sure.” After a pause, I added, “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
She made no reply to that—what was there to say?
Rosean approached, clothing draped over one arm. “Does my lady care to dress now?”
I sighed and got to my feet. “Why not?”
Pulling off my wrinkled, dusty clothing, I got dressed in the outfit Rosean had presented. Over a black skirt, divided for riding, went a white tunic that nearly reached my knees and had long slits in the sides for freedom of movement. The shirt was sleeveless and belted around the waist with a band of braided leather.
Sitting on the bed, I removed my socks and Nikes. In their place went long stockings and knee-high boots of brown leather. Rosean combed out my hair and braided it down the back, tying the end with a leather thong. At the washstand, I washed my face and rinsed out my mouth with cold water from a lovely, porcelain pitcher embossed with yellow roses. The frigid water helped kick-start my muzzy brain, but I found myself dreaming wistfully of a cup brimming with strong, black coffee. After drying my face and hands, I pulled on a pair of leather riding gloves and allowed Elisia to fasten a warm, midnight-blue cloak about my shoulders.
“You may need to remove this as the heat of the day strengthens,” she said, “but you will be glad of its warmth, come evening.”
I nodded, figuring she knew the weather around here better than I did.
I asked Rosean to pack the clothes I’d been wearing in a satchel and take it outside to be placed with the rest of my things.
“You wish to keep them? You’ve plenty of other clothing,” my Spinner friend protested. Rosean stood hesitantly beside my bed, uncertain what to do.
“I know I have plenty of other clothes, but those are my clothes. I’m used to them. They’re from my home, and I want them.”
She shrugged—“Very well, then,” and gestured to the servant girl to gather them up.
As a final touch to my outfit, Elisia buckled a pair of delicate silver spurs on my boots. The tiny rowels were so fine and thin they looked like shiny lace.
“Do I really need spurs?” I wanted to know.
I’d ridden a few times—mostly plodding trail rides—but had never used spurs. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea.
She rose gracefully. “Perhaps not. But true safety lies in preparation,” she smiled. “Rosean has already departed. Shall we follow?”
In the courtyard, a servant scurried up to offer a simple breakfast of brown bread, fruit, and milk. I tried to turn it down, but Elisia urged me to eat and fortify myself for the long day’s ride. I did my best, although what I really could’ve used was that cup of coffee. Unfortunately, that was a luxury the folks around here didn’t know anything about.
I was brushing the breakfast crumbs from my tunic when the High Elder walked up with the other Council members following in his wake.
“We have come to tender our farewells, my lady, and to bless your journey. Do as the Simathe bid you, and you will be safe.”
A whole lot of things ran through my mind. These were the people responsible for me being sent off like an animal to the slaughterhouse. I resented them having so much authority over me and thinking they had the right to dictate my life. There were so many things I wanted to say, but I bit my tongue.
“Kneel,” Lord Elgrend commanded softly.
I felt my brows lift, but I obeyed nonetheless, kneeling on the hard-packed dirt. A hush fell over the gathered crowd. Everyone watched us closely, even the already mounted Simathe.
The High Elder now placed both hands on my head, as Council surrounded us in a loose circle. I stared at his sandals of rich, brown leather with fastenings of tooled silver as he began intoning over me in that odd Aerisian language. I had no idea what he was saying, but at the conclusion of his speech, there was a short stretch of silence. He lifted his palms, and I raised my head to see him turn to the Elder on his left. She handed him a piece of jewelry that glittered in the early sunlight. At first I thought it a moonstone, but quickly realized it was an oval-shaped, pink stone, so pale it was almost white. It was set in gold and dangled from a delicate, gold-rope chain.
The High Elder draped the piece over my head, where it settled with a strange weight above my breasts. “The necklace of the Artan,” he explained with great solemnity. “This stone is a symbol of your station. While you wear it, your identity cannot be mistaken.”
Catching my hands, he drew me to my feet with surprising strength, considering his obvious age. His fingers released mine, his hands coming up to frame my face. His green eyes bored unnervingly into mine.
“I know you do not believe as yet, but you are the Artan. Open your heart and your mind to the power you possess. Magic pervades all, especially you. May a swift, safe journey be yours.”
He leaned over to brush a gentle kiss across my forehead, and I had to make myself stand my ground. A hot pain lanced my heart—anger that he dared to pretend he cared, mixed with memories of home and family the kiss evoked. Somehow, I kept tears from falling. In the faces of the Council members surrounding me, I read hope, such desperate hope that I felt my anger abating.
One by one, they lifted palms to sky in the formal Aerisian salute. As they did, the High Elder chanted, “May the light of the sun warm your day and the radiance of the moon brighten your night. May your travels be swift, your mount sure, and your warriors strong. Until next we meet, may the Powers of Good protect you.”
I guess he spoke for them all. At the conclusion of this blessing, they lowered their arms, said farewell, and began to disperse. Now a young stable boy approached, offering to hold my horse’s bridle while I mounted. Lady Elisia made her way through the crowd of departing Elders, approaching me. After a fond embrac
e, she led me to my horse. I had one hand on the saddle horn in preparation to climb aboard, when a voice from behind stopped me.
“Lady Hannah?”
It was Rittean. Releasing the saddle, I turned. “Yes?”
Tears shone in her pretty, blue-green eyes. Brushing past Elisia, she gathered me in her arms, hugging me tight. When she finally stepped back, her smile was warm and glowing.
“My wishes for you echo those of the High Elder—the ancient battle blessing given to High-Chieftess Laytrii by Aerisia’s people as she went to war.” Pausing, she added softly and with all sincerity, “Be safe.”
“I’ll try.”
A tear coursed down her round cheek. “I shall miss you.”
I felt the last of my irritation slipping away. Maybe she was as misguided as the rest of these folks, but she was also the kindest person I’d ever met. At the thought of leaving her, I felt like crying myself. “I’ll miss you, too. And you, Lady Elisia.”
The lovely Spinner smiled sadly, laying a hand on my shoulder. “Mount,” she urged. “The Simathe await.”
I forced myself to turn from them, made myself swing up into the saddle. The stable lad pointed my horse’s head toward the open courtyard gate, giving the animal a light slap on the rump to get us moving. The Simathe in front of and around me were already heeling their horses, trotting toward the road beyond. Just before I rode through that gate, however, I swiveled in the saddle for one last look at my friends. I raised my hand in farewell. They did the same. Then the gates were closing behind us, and the company of Simathe enclosed me in a solid wall of protection.
Aureeyah
We were barely out of sight of the palace when I lost it. Maybe it was lack of sleep combined with no coffee. Maybe it was overwrought nerves. Maybe it was homesickness and fear of travelling into the unknown with strangers. Maybe it was the wrong time of the month. Whatever was causing it, once I started I couldn’t stop. I covered my face with my free hand, nearly choking on strangling sobs. Misery washed over me. I was badly homesick and had just been forced to leave behind the only stability I’d found so far in this wretched place—not only leave it behind but ride away from it and into the unknown, surrounded by the hardest-looking group of men I’d ever seen in my life.
For awhile, no one said or did anything, and my crying blended in with the rhythmic clopping of the horses’ hooves. I jumped when a hand touched my arm. It was Lord Ilgard, the High-Chief. His horse walked steadily beside mine, their matched paces putting us side by side. His hand now closed firmly around my upper arm.
“Enough,” he said, quietly yet sternly.
I stared blankly into those alien eyes about two full seconds before bursting into harsher sobs than before. “I hate you!” I choked out, jerking my arm free. “I hate this place! I hate what you all are trying to make me be! I hate those twisted little monsters, and I hate your palaces with guards beneath balconies! I hate warriors, I hate having no coffee, and I hate having to get up so early. I hate everything! I wanna go hooooomme!”
The last word was a drawn-out cry of frustration. Concealing my face, I wept even harder, bent nearly double over the pommel.
“Halt.”
I dimly heard the command through my tears and was vaguely aware of the horse under me coming to a stop. Then strong hands were lifting me bodily, removing my hands from my face, and cupping themselves around my wet cheeks.
“Silence!” he shushed, lifting my face and forcing me to look at him. “You must stop this weeping.”
His voice was cutting and his eerie eyes hard. There was nothing tender or comforting in his touch. Biting my lower lip and holding my breath for long seconds at a time, I struggled to quiet my sobs. At last, I managed to get myself under control. The tremors that shook my body were spaced further and further apart until they ceased altogether. Finally, I raised my eyes to the High-Chief’s. He was watching me closely, the tiniest frown between his brows, no doubt trying to figure out whether this crazy female was finished crying or would start up again at any moment.
“I’m done,” I sniffled.
When he released my face, I dug into my pocket for the handkerchief Rosean had placed there. I was thankful she had, since my nose was threatening to drip over. After caring for its needs and scrubbing the tears from my face, I glanced up to see all of the Simathe—including their High-Chief, whose horse still stood neck and neck with mine—were watching me with those intense black eyes.
Never had much experience around crying women before, have you? I thought, feeling a hysterical urge to giggle. Instead, I scrubbed at my swollen eyes with my fists. My head had begun to ache, and I was afraid all that crying combined with lack of sleep might be the ingredients for a migraine.
“Shall we ride?” the High-Chief asked, but it was obviously an order, not a request.
“Don’t suppose you’d have anything for a headache, huh?” I asked. Or don’t you get them?
He unhooked the leather waterskin slung from his saddle horn and handed it over. Removing the top, I stared suspiciously into its murky interior. “What’s this?”
“Wine and water.”
“That’s supposed to cure a headache?”
“It may calm you.”
Had he brought that for me, just in case? I couldn’t imagine him or his men needing something to calm them down.
I gave it a try, grimacing at the foul taste. “Here,” I said curtly, shoving it back. “’Fraid it’s no substitute for aspirin.”
He didn’t reply, simply accepted the waterskin and slung it back over his pommel.
“Let us ride.”
And ride we did. We rode all that day, camping for the night beneath a grove of tall trees with purplish leaves. I’d never seen anything like it. Next morning, we were off before daylight. I wasn’t used to camping and, not having slept well the night before, after several hours began to feel another headache coming on. Left to my own morbid musings, I brooded in near solitude. No one was feeling sorry for me except me, and I was fed up. No home, no bed, no TV, no shower, no friends…and these Simathe never spoke, either. Not a single word.
I felt like I was going nuts.
Noon came and went; we didn’t stop for lunch. I had no watch, but I’d always heard the sun was directly overhead at the noon hour. When that time came, I supposed it was around twelve o’clock. Despite my dull, throbbing headache, my stomach told me it was lunchtime. I was getting pretty hungry by this point and wanted Lord Ilgard to call a halt so we could eat. He didn’t.
I sneaked a sideways glance at him as he rode relaxed and easy in the saddle, his eyes constantly seeking about, although he never changed facial expressions. It was the same posture he’d maintained all day, and I sighed. What did it take to rattle these guys? I certainly hoped we were getting close to our destination, because I couldn’t take much more of this.
A couple of hours later, we were still going. By now I was not only hungry, I was ravenously hungry. I was also thirsty, crabby, and needed to use the bathroom. Badly. I kept looking at the High-Chief…surely he’d call a halt soon. But even though he had to feel my gaze, he never bothered glancing my way.
The man was a slave driver! And I was about to revolt.
Knowing it was up to me to take some sort of action, I finally gave up on wishful thinking and pulled my horse to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road. I heard a grunt from the man behind me as his horse swerved to avoid hitting mine. Obstinate and angry, I sat there and waited until the Simathe High-Chief came to a standstill, twisting in his saddle to look at me.
Glaring, I announced, “I’m hungry.”
He said nothing. Neither did his men.
“I’m hungry,” I repeated, pouting, refusing to flinch from his black, black stare. “I’m also thirsty, and I have to go the bath—um, I mean, I need to…well, I need some privacy.”
Following my announcement, the warrior-lord stared at me for several long seconds. Is he going to refuse? I thought, bracing m
yself for battle. But in the end he nodded agreement.
“There is a clearing a mile away. We’ll rest there.”
With that, he heeled his horse, and the whole column started off again. I did the same, feeling a surge of victory.
Score one for me! I thought smugly as we cantered on.
We’d been traveling through a thick forest for quite some time now. Beneath the trees, the air was cool and the light dimmer as it filtered through the dense canopy overhead. It was peaceful, majestic. In fact, from what I’d seen of Aerisia so far, it really was a beautiful place. It wasn’t the land I minded, it was the company. The annoying, silent, rude, company.
As promised, after about a mile, we reached a large clearing just off the narrow trail. Purple wildflowers poked up through a carpet of lush, green grass. When I swung off my horse, my feet sank into the verdant layer.
Lovely, I breathed.
I briefly considered taking off my boots and going barefoot through the cool grass. The idea brought a smile to my face until a stony warrior leading his tall mount walked past. I changed my mind. Better not. They already thought I was crazy. No sense adding to that impression, any more than I could help it.
I led my own horse over to the spot the others had left theirs, with another Simathe to watch over them. This man wasn’t as tall as his High-Chief or Chief Captain and seemed somehow to be younger. He accepted the animal’s reins without a word, but a fleeting smile flitted across his face. Surprised by the unexpected gesture, I grinned back, wondering who he was and thinking maybe all the Simathe weren’t so bad.
The Chief Captain motioned me over, so I went to him next. He handed me food: strips of dried meat like jerky, and bread. Thinking all sorts of uncharitable thoughts about his treachery a couple nights before, I took it.
The Sunset Lands Beyond (The Complete Series, Books 1-3): An epic portal fantasy boxed set Page 13