Awaken the Three, page 14
Thuma looked at Thornton and company, glanced at the horses and then back. “Hmm. How about we leave the traitor behind?” he suggested with a grin.
Before Thornton could come up with an answer, Alysana interjected.
“He rides with us,” she said from behind Thornton. “It will help me keep an eye on him.” Walking up to join the two men, she added, “And if it becomes a burden, we can purchase a mount in Théas.”
“Fine,” Thuma grunted. “But he rides with you.” Grabbing the reins, the bearded Athrani turned his horse around and pointed it south, motioning for the rest to follow.
Thornton walked over to a sturdy bay stallion that reminded him of Jericho, whispered a few calming words into its ear, and climbed into the saddle. Turning his head to find Yasha, he nodded at her.
She nodded back and started after the other riders.
Thornton watched her go, and felt the warmth fade from his face. He didn’t like having to keep a secret from her any longer than he had to, and was determined to take her aside when the opportunity arose; he just hoped that it would come soon. Surrounded by Ellenian soldiers and an Athrani traitor was hardly desirable, but he hoped he might be able to steal her away for a few moments at some point along the way.
Just as he was about to follow, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Kethras looking him in the eyes. Even on horseback, Thornton had to look up to meet the gaze of the towering son of Kienar.
“We must be cautious,” Kethras said in a voice just above a whisper. “Remember the Keeper’s words: There are those who would see them sleep forever.”
Thornton knew Kethras was right; he felt it in his guts. “Keep your eyes open,” he answered. “And I will, too.”
The Kienari nodded, flashed a smile, and patted one of his daggers. “My steel will sing if it must.”
“I don’t doubt it.”
Thornton looked around, as he again felt the presence of the woman that loomed like a shadow just beyond his grasp. In his heart he knew it was Miera trying to reach out to him, trying to tell him something, but at the moment he had no idea what he could do for her.
If she’s trying to communicate, she’s doing a terrible job.
He urged his mount onward behind Kethras, leaving Ellenos behind and setting out on the long road south to Théas.
***
They rode four abreast, with Thuma leading the way. Interspersed among their numbers were the other eleven men of the legion, who seemed to Thornton to be an excellent deterrent to any thieves who might catch a glimpse of them: they wore the purple and gold armor of the Athrani Legion, swords at their sides, and even their horses looked battle hardened. I couldn’t have picked a better escort if I’d tried, Thornton mused.
Up ahead, Alysana and Dailus on their sturdy palomino seemed to be managing despite the awkward riding situation. Thornton edged his mount ahead to catch up.
Dailus was seated backward behind Alysana, looking miserable, with his arms tied to his side and no way to brace himself against the bouncing of the horse’s trot. He was connected to Alysana by another rope, which the G’henni had wrapped around her chest. Thornton narrowed his eyes at the half-eye when he approached, hoping his misery was as deep as it looked.
“I’ll be honest,” Thornton said when he was even with them. “I didn’t think I was going to see you again after Annoch.”
Alysana turned her head and gave him a sly smile. “And I didn’t think a young blacksmith could cause so much trouble.”
Her deep olive eyes moved over Thornton like a wave, and he felt his cheeks flush a bit.
“It’s not like I meant to,” he riposted. “This hammer is more trouble than it’s worth.”
“I’m sure Aldryd would tell you it’s worth much more than that.”
She was right, of course. Whatever pains he’d suffered were nothing compared to what Miera was probably going through now at the hands of the Breaker, D’kane. All the more reason to get to Do’baradai, he thought grimly.
“I’m surprised Aldryd let you leave,” Thornton admitted.
“It wasn’t his choice,” she retorted. “I knew that Mordha would be busy dealing with the increased watch around Annoch, and they knew that I owed a great debt to the Athrani people. It was an easy decision for me to volunteer to serve under the guard. And an even easier one for them to assign me to him,” she said with a backward nod to Dailus.
Thornton was impressed. “It was really that important to you that you bring him to Ellenos?”
Alysana narrowed her eyes and looked at him. “No one does something like that to the people I care about without answering for it.”
“I wish you’d stop talking about me like I wasn’t here,” said an exasperated Dailus.
Alysana threw back her elbow and caught him on the side of the head. “You don’t have a part in this conversation, dead man,” she said, turning her head so she had him in sight. “Remember: the only reason you’re still breathing is because the High Keeper wills it.”
Thornton saw the fire in Alysana’s eyes and knew right then that she was perfect for the job she’d signed up for. He had a feeling she would see that Dailus paid his debt no matter the cost.
***
They were making good time by the end of the first day, and the twilit sky made for a pleasant backdrop as the Ellenians worked. When the sun had started to sink, Thuma had instructed his men to dismount and start making preparations for camp. They opened their saddlebags, pulling out supplies, with Thuma directing the rest of the riders in the effort. The big Athrani stood with his arms crossed as he watched his men, keeping his eyes on the surrounding area as well.
Alysana, who had wanted to get to their destination in a hurry, had seemed a little annoyed at the announcement. Thornton, on the other hand, had seen it as the perfect chance to have a talk with Yasha. All he needed was a moment alone to tell her the truth.
He saw the gray-robed Khyth standing off to the side, watching as the others did their work. Now is as good a time as any, he thought.
“Yasha,” he said as he approached. “Can I talk to you?”
She turned her head and smiled at Thornton with her swirling green eyes. “Of course,” she replied. “What’s on your mind?”
“Not here,” he answered. “Let’s walk.”
Thornton took her by the arm and helped her away from the camp as the commotion from the others filled the otherwise quiet evening air. The countryside in this part of Derenar was mostly plains, which did not allow for much privacy. Making sure to keep the rest of the party in his sights, Thornton found a quiet spot far enough away where he was sure they could talk in confidence. He looked at Yasha, whose gray hood hung below her orange-red hair, and took a breath.
“Ynara told me something about you that you should know.”
Yasha looked worried. “What is it?” she asked.
“It’s about your father,” he said. “She told me who he is.”
Yasha’s eyes grew wide with surprise. She blinked a few times, but said nothing.
Thornton went on, shakily. “And . . .” He searched for the words. “And I know him. I know your father.” He felt a twinge of emotion start to bubble up inside him as he reached out for her, hesitant at first, then with more assurance as his breath found words. “I know him and I love him. Your father is Olson Woods, blacksmith of Highglade.”
Yasha put a hand to her mouth, holding back a barely audible whimper. “Olson,” she breathed. “So that makes you my . . . ,” she said through her hand, “my . . .”
“Your brother,” Thornton finished her thought, nodding.
Yasha covered her forehead with the palm of her hand, bracing herself as the concept soaked in. Thornton put out his hand to steady her, but she waved it off. “Just . . . Just give me a moment,” she said.
She closed her eyes tightly and pressed the heels of her palms into them. Thornton was silent as she took it in, remembering how hard it had been when she told him that he was Khyth.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” he said after a while, “but I knew I had to wait for the right time. This isn’t something you can just throw at someone.”
Yasha made no indication that she heard him. Thinking she just needed time, Thornton turned to go back to the camp.
“Tell me,” Yasha said quietly. “Tell me about who he was.”
Thornton paused. Was. The word stung. It still hadn’t really set in. His father was gone, and he had never even gotten the chance to say goodbye—to really say goodbye. They had last parted ways in Annoch, before the Athrani Legion had made their march for the Tree, but that was supposed to have been until they saw each other again. Neither of them had had any way of knowing it would be so . . . so permanent.
His father had always been standoffish, but despite that, Thornton knew he had cared. He thought that if Olson had known about Yasha, he would have cared for her too.
And he knew he should say that to Yasha.
“There was a lot to him,” he finally said. “He grew up around the forge, and spent his whole life learning how to be a great blacksmith. But he was more than just that; he was a good father. He looked out for me, and for Miera, and always had our best interests at heart. Everything he did, he did for us. It was never about him.” He paused. “And I’m sure that he would have felt the same way about you.”
Thornton could see Yasha’s smile in the darkness.
“From the little time I spent around him,” she said, “he seemed just the way you describe him.”
But before Thornton could answer, Dailus’s voice rang out.
“Stop!” the half-eye shouted from off in the distance. “You can’t!”
Thornton spun around to look back at the camp, where the shout had come from.
“Watch me,” growled Thuma. The big Athrani raised his sword, and swung.
A gift comes when you need it. A curse, when you do not.
—Khôl proverb
Chapter 32
Derenar, North of the Wastes
Rathma
Rathma was lost.
He had no idea where he was going, save for the fact that the Wastes were now behind him. He had unclasped his cloak hours ago and slung it over his shoulder to let his body breathe; the punishing sun was almost directly overhead, but the grasslands of Derenar made for much cooler climes than the deserts of Khulakorum. His dark red hair was tied up behind him, letting the rest of him cool off in turn.
He wasn’t sure how far he would have to travel to find word of Jinda’s whereabouts, but he knew that Farsteppers were rare outside of the Wastes, and the odds were good that someone would know something about a man matching his brother’s description—and that’s what he was by now: a man. Jinda had been younger when he left the tribes, but even Rathma had grown up in the intervening time, leaving the ignorance of boyhood far, far behind. Just as Rathma planned to do to the Wastes.
He planted his feet in the rough dirt trail and looked around, squinting to make the light more bearable. Behind him, directly south, was his desert home; and before him, leading north, was a trail going Holder knows where. It was clearly not a well-traveled path, although it appeared to have seen some recent use. Strange tracks, which looked as if they belonged to the biggest wolf he’d ever seen, led southward into the desert. Thanks to the relatively undisturbed topsoil of this region, the prints of the creature—creatures?—were well preserved. But when faced with the sands of the south, they became nothing more than a passing, forgotten mark on an endlessly shifting landscape.
“I guess north is as good a direction as any,” he mumbled to himself. Anything to get farther away from the Wastes. Placing one foot in front of the other, he began to walk.
***
Many times the road split off, branching westward or opening eastward, but Rathma stayed the path. He reasoned that his brother might have thought the same thing, wanting nothing more than to distance himself from the warring tribes of the south. So he fastened his cloak and kept walking, step after step, slowly making his way along a path he hoped would lead him to something familiar.
By the time the weariness began to creep upon him, the sun had already started sinking. He had been walking long, and only now began to notice just how sore his legs had become. Knowing nothing of the geography of this land, though, he decided to press on. He would rather follow the path, and maybe stumble upon a city, than stop at night on a strange road with nothing else in sight.
But, as luck would have it, he would not have to walk much farther. For, up ahead, and barely distinguishable against the setting sun, were the outlines of something that made Rathma thankful that he was born a Farstepper.
“A cloak like that must be hiding something worth some money,” he heard someone say, followed with the sound of sharpened metal slicing through the air.
Rathma didn’t wait to count how many there were.
He took a breath, closed his eyes, and reached for the power that had been his since birth. But what was even more surprising to Rathma than how quickly he had been caught by these bandits was the fact that, when he attempted to beckon his power, he was met with nothing but empty silence.
The only sound he could offer was a disappointed “Huh.”
Chapter 33
Ellenos
Lilyana
Ellenos at night was a completely different animal than it was during the day. It was also when the city turned its eyes away to let the dust that had been swept beneath the rug come out.
Lilyana and Coraline of Ellenos were two specks of such dust.
Am I dreaming? Lily thought.
It felt like a dream, but it was very real. It was real, she knew, because it was a memory she had long since tried to bury.
Bury, but never destroy.
For each time she would try, it would simply sprout again from the dark soil in her mind, bearing twisted, awful fruit that would rot and fall to the ground only to bury itself again and repeat the painful cycle.
Bloom, blossom, and die.
Over and over again.
“Lilyana,” Coraline called from farther down the cobblestone street. “Listen to me.”
Her mother wore a gown that matched Lily’s dress: a soft, sky-blue affair with trails of white interlaced and a deep back that left little to the imagination. Yet Coraline’s lithe, regal figure did wonders to the long-sleeved gown that only natural beauty could.
Young Lily scurried over. “I was listening, Mother,” she lied.
Coraline gave her a look of doubt followed by a swift swat to the cheek, loving but stern. She pointed her finger at Lily and said, “None of that, young lady. I told you to follow closely. Now, do I have to hold your hand, or will you walk beside me like I asked?”
Lily gathered herself up and raised her chin. “I can walk myself,” she insisted.
“Very well,” her mother replied, still eyeing her warily. When she finally looked away, she pointed down the long road that led past the Temple of the Shaper. “That’s where we will be going for the ball tonight. Do you remember what I told you?” She looked down to Lily for an answer as the two of them began to walk. A slit on the side of Coraline’s blue gown let her take long, smooth strides as she glided down the road as easily as a leaf on the breeze.
“Yes,” Lily began. “Stay near you but out of the way. Make eye contact with anyone who speaks to me, and only speak when spoken to.”
“And lastly?” Coraline asked, not looking back or breaking stride.
“Never let you out of my sight.”
“So you were listening,” she replied. Lily couldn’t see it, but she could almost hear the smirk in her mother’s words.
The looming blue outline of the Temple of the Shaper stood in the distance, silhouetted in the moonlight and painted by the torches that filled the streets. For a city this size, it was no surprise to see Ellenos so busy at night.
Still, Lily thought, it’s amazing.
She had never been to the Temple, but had heard stories about it: that it was bigger on the inside than it was on the outside, and that it was filled with devout Athrani running this way and that, carrying out the will of the Shaper of Ages. Tonight would be her first time ever seeing the inside of the Temple, and it had only come at the end of unrelenting pleading with her mother—paid for in full by Lily’s best behavior in months.
As they neared the guarded entrance to the Temple, her mother slowed her pace to come even with Lily, and reached down for her hand. Lily tried to pull away, but Coraline would have none of it.
“Stay close to me,” her mother whispered.
They approached two strong-looking Athrani men who were dressed in fine purple clothing. Beneath the cloth, Lily could see the faint outline of armor. Each of them held a pike in his hands, and they tapped them on the ground once, in time, at the ladies’ arrival.
“What have we here?” one asked as he peered down his nose at Lily.
“Lady Coraline and my daughter, Lilyana,” her mother answered. “We are guests of the Tallister.”
Before the guard could respond, they were surprised by the voice of an Athrani man who stepped forward from the shadows. He was tall and handsome, and looked older than Coraline by nearly twenty years. “Ah,” he said. “My accompaniment has arrived.”
He smiled warmly as he looked Coraline up and down, gently reaching out to take her gloved hand in his and placing a kiss on the surface of the white cloth.
“So good to see you again, Coraline,” he said. “And this must be the daughter I’ve heard so much about.”
