After half a day with no change, they both tried to occupy themselves with menial tasks around camp like organizing their supplies, and scourging for food. At one point, Zev made the time to properly bury Tasnia. He owed it to her and Owyn.
At dawn the next day, both breathed a sigh of relief when Dyna’s eyes, at last, fluttered open. Her complexion had lost its color, face gaunt, and hair dull as though her vitality had been drained. It was, Zev thought as she gave them a wan smile, it went into him. He had to resign himself on the matter. Her health would improve once she recovered her Essence.
He insisted she eat, and Cassiel served them tea and manna bread from the last of his rations. As they ate, they discussed if they should continue traveling.
“You need another night of rest,” Zev said, trying not to grind his teeth at the sight of the purple shadows around her eyes.
Dyna shook her head, sipping from her cup. She huddled under a mound of blankets, not able to stop shivering.
Cassiel scowled at her. “We will not reach Corron before nightfall. Might as well sleep.”
“I don’t wish to waste any more time,” she said.
Zev reluctantly gathered their packs, and they went in search of the main road. Once it was found, they kept to the forest, using the barrier of tall shrubs between them and the road to conceal them from view. After a mile, Dyna seemed to gather more energy. She hummed to herself, picking sprigs along the way. Kneeling by a shrub, she tucked a lock of scarlet hair behind an ear and chewed on her lip as she wrote something in her notebook.
Whenever she stopped, so did the Prince. When she continued, so did he. Zev studied their peculiar movements. They moved in an odd synchronization, subconsciously mirroring each other. Periodically, they glanced at one another when the other was not looking.
Dyna stretched on her toes to scrape a loose piece of bark off a tree, and her petticoat swished aside, the slit exposing her smooth thigh. Cassiel reddened and looked away, meeting Zev’s amused smirk.
“What?” he asked defensively.
Zev arched a brow. “You’re acting strange.”
“Oh, am I?” Cassiel hiked his pack over his shoulder, moving past him. “Given last night’s events, I think that can be forgiven.”
“Right,” Zev said, falling into step next to him. “Sorry.”
“I’m a fool for not figuring it out sooner, even with the chains.”
“What did you think they were for?”
“Well, uh …” Cassiel scratched at his chin.
“You assumed we would chain you up and bleed you dry.” Zev crossed his arms. “You truly do assume the worst of people.”
“There is always the threat of poachers hunting my kind.”
“Does she look like a poacher?” Zev nodded in Dyna’s direction. She tapped her graphite pencil on her notebook, lost in thought as she studied another plant.
“Well, no,” Cassiel said indignantly. “But most would not resist the chance to capture a Celestial.”
Zev clapped the Prince’s shoulder, almost knocking him over under its weight. “I don’t need chains if I wanted to restrain you. It wouldn’t take much to break one of your wings to keep you from flying away.”
Cassiel narrowed his eyes.
Zev laughed and strolled ahead, listening to him grumble under his breath.
“Don’t pay him any mind, Cassiel. He’s only teasing,” Dyna said.
“I preferred it when he growled at me.”
She giggled. “You lie.”
“How dare you accuse a prince of lying,” Cassiel replied good-naturedly, making her laugh again.
Zev paused and turned around, a bit surprised by it. Dyna and the Prince walked casually together, much closer than he had allowed before.
“About last night, I wish to thank you for what you did,” she said.
“You have nothing to thank me for.”
“We both know that is not true.” Dyna stopped and took Cassiel’s hands in hers. They both flinched and looked down at their intertwined fingers, neither letting go. “This feeling … this is what you call Soul Searching? It feels different from before.”
Cassiel stilled. He swallowed, looking away from her questioning gaze. When he noticed Zev watching, panic briefly crossed his features. He snatched his hands back. “We best hurry if we are to make any ground. Corron still lies forty miles ahead.”
The Prince rushed onward and left them behind. Zev frowned, not sure what to make of the odd reaction. Dyna gave him a confused smile.
As they walked, Zev couldn’t shake the odd sense his cousin was not the same. Besides her scent, there was something else about her. Something new he couldn’t quite describe. Last night she had changed.
And he suspected it wasn’t all his doing.
Chapter 30
Von
Von listened to the evening wind whistle outside of Tarn’s tent. It shook the ceiling, tinkling the charms hanging from the supporting beams. There were several in variety: wooden ornaments, dried herbs, lustrous beads, strips of paper written with calligraphic symbols, and crystals. Von had gathered them all during their travels across the world, each made to guard his master or some other purpose.
A large blood-red crystal hung in the center from a clasp in the shape of talons. The Crystal Core. It’s what subdued every reluctant slave made to wear the brass bangles. The crystal’s magic kept them trapped within a certain distance of the camp and away from the crystal itself. It also inflicted unpleasant punishment should they try to harm their ward.
The charred outlines of runes marked the oiled canvas of the tent where a Druid had embedded them. The spells were over a decade old, but the charge of their power moved within the space, prickling against his skin.
Von’s footsteps sank into the furs spread on the ground as he walked around the room to light the candles set upon iron stands. Chests full of glinting gold rested beside a tall four-poster bed made of a luxurious dark wood. Silk black sheets and fluffed pillows layered the plush down mattress.
It was an extravagant bed for someone who never slept in it.
His master took six drops of Witch’s Brew in his wine each night so he wouldn’t need rest. Tarn had too many enemies to risk such things. Von could count on one hand how many times he’d seen him sleep. The first time was the night they survived the Horde and the second …
Von glanced at Tarn where he sat at the dining table with Yavi. His master watched her intently as she studied the Sacred Scroll he had acquired in Landcaster. The jagged scar running across his face appeared more prominent and unsightlier in the candlelight.
He would never forget how Tarn’s face had split in two with skin and muscle splayed open. But the screams that echoed in Von’s memories didn’t belong to his master. They belonged to the Xián Jīng assassin that had given him that scar.
Von moved on to the candle stands set beside the desk. Thick tomes were set neatly upon it, flanking a map of Azure. He lit the last candle and brought it to the table where Yavi worked among a clutter of missives, documents, and Sacred Scrolls.
Her quill tinkled lightly in the inkwell then she continued writing on a separate piece of paper. The low light glowed off her face in the darkened tent, illuminating her auburn tresses that fell in soft waves along her shoulders. She sat a little straighter, her eyes glimmering a little happier as she worked.
Translating Sacred Scrolls from the ancient language was the only time she was allowed to read and write. Such education was a rare thing among women, especially to Yavi’s degree.
Von followed the swirl of the wet ink as it formed neat letters. When she finished the last sentence, Tarn snatched the page, leaving a splatter of ink on the table.
“It should not have taken you this long,” he said, his pale eyes zigzagging as he quickly read.
Yavi returned the quill to the inkwell and lowered her gaze. “This Scroll was lengthier than the others. Some words of the old tongue are not found in Urnian. I transla
ted it as well as interpreted.”
“Meaning your work is rubbish. What good are you if you cannot do what I acquired you for?”
She clasped her trembling hands and hid them on her lap. “I’ll do better, Master.”
“It might serve me better to sell you and be done with it.”
It took all of Von’s will to not react. Apprehension swam through his veins. “It would be difficult to find another slave that can read ancient Urnian, Master,” he commented casually. “In addition to the twelve languages that she speaks, reads, and writes. She serves you well when we travel abroad.”
Tarn’s cool eyes narrowed on him past the edge of the page. “You will only give your opinion when I ask for it.”
Von deferentially bowed his head.
Tarn continued reading and dismissively motioned in Yavi’s direction. “Go.”
She stood and gave him a quick bow before turning to leave. Her gaze fleetingly met Von’s—radiating with worry—then she slipped out of the tent. An amethyst crystal hanging above glowed and slowly spun, shooting purple rays of light on the canvas walls. The Forewarning Crystal announced any presence within a twenty-foot radius around the tent, so they’d always know if someone was near. The lights ceased once Yavi moved outside of it.
Von prayed their master’s threat had been empty. He knew one day he’d have to separate from Yavi but not like this. Not when she could be sold and taken to a place he could not reach.
Tarn tossed the page aside. “Another worthless Scroll. This one speaks of the beginnings of the world. You revealed my presence in Azure for this?”
“Forgive me, Master.”
“Every Scroll you have brought me has been useless.”
“Shall I cease the search for the Sacred Scroll of the Unending?”
“No.” Tarn lifted his tankard and swirled the wine inside. “It’s out there somewhere. Rozin Ida discovered it nearly three-hundred years ago. I’ll find it as well.”
“Will you keep the slave woman until then, or shall I find a trader?” Von kept the question indifferent, cold. He never referred to Yavi by name in front of Tarn, never showing he cared much of anything for her.
Inside, out of view of anyone, his chest compressed under a boulder of tension meant to crush him. He quickly shoved the feeling away, aware of the Mood Rune that could pick up any strong feeling in the tent.
His question went unacknowledged.
“I am beginning to suspect the Scroll may be on Mount Ida,” Tarn said to himself.
It was possible. The Unending Scroll had led the infamous pirate to the hidden island to begin with. It was there that Captain Ida obtained invincible power. Now they were searching for it.
But would Tarn sell Yavi? Von clamped his mouth tight to keep himself from asking again, lest he risks exposing them.
He picked up the page she had written and blew on the semi-wet ink before tucking it into a leather folder. It was thick with pages she had previously translated. Most were parables or teachings on the meaning of life and the dimensions of The Seven Gates. None of which were any use to them. He took the folder and the Scroll to the desk and returned them to a chest filled with the other Sacred Scrolls he’d collected.
None had been fairly earned.
Killing for the words of the God of Urn left a foul stain on Von’s conscience. A black blot no amount of scrubbing could wash away. The holy law dictated that sins committed during servitude belonged to the master. So why did he feel the weight of them?
“Bring me the study on the Moonstone,” Tarn said.
Von searched through the tomes and pulled out one with a blue leather-bound covering and the title embossed in silver that read Magos Artifacts of the Orbis Era. He delivered it to the table. Tarn opened the book and flipped the pages to a detailed illustration of the Lūna Medallion. It was plated with silver and inlaid with diamonds, weaving around an iridescent stone at its center. The medallion had harnessed the powers of Azeran Astron and nearly won him the Magos Empire, but it was the Moonstone that Tarn needed to succeed in his plan.
The illustration looked too real. Tarn brushed his fingers over the page as if wishing he could pluck it free.
Would he lose interest in Dyna if he had it? With the Moonstone he could reach Mount Ida within a blink of an eye. It opened portals to anywhere the wielder wished and only required the light of the moon to evoke its power. Even a human could use it.
And Von could send Yavi back home to her family where she belonged. But finding the stone was another matter.
“Still no leads?”
“No, Master. Bouvier maintains that the Lūna Medallion disappeared at the end of the War of the Guilds, but he will not cease searching for it.” Their fourth spy was resourceful in tracking rare artifacts and valuable information. It had taken much of the load off of Von’s shoulders since Bouvier had joined them a year ago.
A section of the scar running through Tarn’s brow creased. “Where is he now?”
“I sent him to Corron yesterday to track down the broker the merchant had mentioned.”
“Ah, that’s right. You suspect the merchant may have told him of my whereabouts.” Tarn held up his tankard, and Von served him more wine.
“If he does, Bouvier has been ordered to eliminate any concern.”
Tarn planted an elbow on the table, resting his chin on a fist. He flicked another page, pensive at whatever passage he read there. “I remember a time when you resisted such things.”
“I live to serve you.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
The rune for truth, which looked like the outline of a vertical hourglass, glowed blue for honesty. Had Von lied, it would have turned red.
“When is Elon to return?”
It had been three days. Von was running out of excuses. The elf didn’t normally take so long to return with information. “He’ll arrive soon.”
Tarn looked up from the book, pale eyes beginning to frost. “That is what you said yesterday.”
“It shouldn’t be much longer.” Von glanced at the small glass Orb the size of his fist that rested on the table beside Tarn. On the polished surface appeared a glowing map of the region and a speck of green light that represented Dyna’s location in the east. The tracking spell Benton placed on her guided them well enough. Somehow, she had gotten far ahead of them. They were a day’s travel behind her
Tarn slammed the book shut. “See to the camp breakdown. It’s dark enough to move.”
Von suppressed another sigh. “Yes, Master.”
He was relieved to be excused but it was another form of punishment. Since Landcaster, the camp moved each night. His scouts had reported sightings of bounty hunters, Rangers, and the Azure Guard on the main roads. So, the camp was constantly on the move, traveling by night to avoid detection. The men had gotten little sleep because of it.
Generally, when the authorities discovered Tarn’s presence, they were quick to leave for another part of the country or to another continent. But his master’s sole focus was on the Maiden.
“Great peril in the venture thou art pursuing.”
The Seer’s warning was too vague to mean anything. It could mean the pursuit of the Unending would put Tarn at risk—he was already at risk with the Azure Guard searching for him—or it could mean demise, but for whom?
It would all be over soon.
Von was about to leave the tent when the Forewarning Crystal spun, announcing another presence. Finally. Elon had come to give his report.
But Geon called from outside instead, “Commander Von, I’ve returned with word from Corron.”
Von frowned. “It must be a message from Bouvier, Master.”
“Good.”
He parted the tent flap aside, letting in the brisk wind. Geon’s ruddy face stood out in the dark, his black uniform blending within the night. The lad saluted and handed Von a folded note along with two wooden cylindrical cases. He dismissed Geon then returned to the dining
table to set the cases down and unfolded the note.
Tarn arched an eyebrow. “Well?”
“After a thorough questioning, Bouvier concluded the broker knew nothing of your presence in Azure,” Von said as he read it. “The man deals in antiquities and had a couple of Sacred Scrolls, which Bouvier took the liberty of relieving him.”
“Hmm.” Tarn removed the lid from one of the wooden cases and slid out a brittle piece of rolled-up parchment. He carefully unfurled it and took out the second Scroll. Both were ancient and filled with faded script.
“The broker admitted he was to purchase another Scroll from Beryl Coast,” Von added. “It’s a city on the northeastern coast of Azure. The temple ruins there are under excavation.”
“Send word that Bouvier is to go to Beryl Coast and investigate further. Call the slave woman back here to work on these.”
The Forewarning Crystal announced more company before he could answer.
“I have returned,” Elon called out.
It was about bloody time.
Two shadows slipped in through the tent’s entrance. Elon and Novo were indistinguishable beneath their black cloaks, both wearing masks that hid the bottom halves of their faces.
Von waited for a smaller form to enter behind them, but the amethyst had stopped spinning. “Where’s Len?”
Novo’s dark eyes flitting to his captain.
Elon lowered his mask. “I assigned her to stay behind. She knows to stay out of sight.”
Von frowned. Why leave the girl behind when Novo would have been better suited?
If it bothered Tarn, it wasn’t obvious. He inadvertently raised Len, training her himself before she became one of his spies. The girl was hardly seventeen, but she was his best after Von and Elon. And fiercely loyal.
In a way, the Raiders thought of her as Tarn’s adoptive daughter. They were careful around her in case they should anger him. Elon had no such aversions. He implemented her as he would anyone under his command.
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