Tris and the group rode in silence as the road wound toward Westmarch. A cold rain fell. It was Tris's turn to ride point, and he found himself jumpy and irritable. Neither Carina nor Carroway were talkative, and twice, Vahanian waved the group ahead while he waited, sword ready, sensing something that did not materialize. At least, Tris thought moodily, he was not the only one with a feeling of foreboding.
Westmarch was near the borders of three kingdoms—Principality, Margolan and Dhasson. Mindful of Gabriel's warning about the magicked beasts, the group chose a more northerly route, one which took them further from the Dhasson border. Unfortunately, Gabriel's warning did not indicate just how far Arontala's border spell extended. Though it was still daylight, each of them rode with a torch. A bucket of pitch hung from each saddle. Carroway carried two quivers of arrows with burlap-covered, pitch-soaked points. Carina wrapped the tip of her stave in burlap and pitch, and Tris counted on his ability to conjure fire. Berry, riding close to Carina, had her own weapon. She had tinkered with the bard's recipe for the pellets he contrived for smoke and colors to accompany his tales. A slight adjustment to the proportions yielded small balls that burst into flame on impact. Armed with a slingshot, Berry had a surprisingly accurate aim.
Vahanian, the only one with actual experience with the beasts, was clearly the most nervous. He rode with a crude lance, fashioned from a sturdy pole, its tip wrapped in pitch-soaked rags. It was longer than Carina's stave and sharp-ended. From the fighter's grim expression, Tris knew Vahanian felt the same foreboding. The further they rode, the darker Vahanian's mood grew and the shorter his temper became.
At this rate, we'll all be wrecks by the time we reach Westmarch, Tris thought. By agreement, they rode as hard as their horses could tolerate, stopping only when the animals needed food, water or rest.
"Do you hear that?" Vahanian asked.
Tris frowned. "Hear what?"
"Exactly," the mercenary said, settling his lance in front of him. "It's too quiet." They passed no one on roads that should have been well traveled by traders and farmers. "I don't like this."
Carroway brought his horse up closer. "I couldn't catch what you said," the bard interjected, "but it's too damn quiet out here."
Tris smiled tightly. "Looks like we're all thinking the same thing." His horse nickered, reminding Tris that a stop and some water was overdue. He sighed and patted his mount's neck. "The horses need to rest," he said, and looked around with concern. "The problem is, where?"
"Over there," Carroway pointed toward a village at the crest of the next hill. "I smell supper fires. Maybe we can buy a hot meal for us and some food for the horses."
"Look sharp," Vahanian warned.
They approached the village cautiously. As they drew closer, it became clear that supper fires were not the source of the wood smoke. The village lay in smoldering ruins, its buildings blackened shadows.
"There!" Carroway pointed. A body lay crumpled beside a burned-out tavern. Tris nudged his horse closer, then dismounted, sword in hand. He rolled the corpse over with his foot. Whatever had killed the man, it was not flame. Great gashes rent the man's face and tore open his throat.
"What creature hunts like that?" Carina exclaimed, reining her horse closer.
"I've got something over here you need to see," Carroway called. Tris and Vahanian joined him, with Vahanian in the rear, warily eyeing the streets, his weapon ready. Carroway pointed at a heap near the door of one of the burned buildings. Tris realized that the body was not human. Tris rolled the thing over and gasped.
The beast would have stood taller than a man. Its hind legs were strong, and thin arms ended in wicked talons. Its thickly muscled legs attested to speed, and its massive shoulders spoke of inhuman strength. But it was its face, if one could call it that, which took Tris's breath away. The gray-skinned creature's face was a fearsome thing. Huge, sunken eyes were located on the sides of its head, above a large, snout—its mouth filled with rows of glistening teeth. Tris swallowed. The beast was obviously burned, and a warning tingled in Tris's mind. Perhaps it was not the beasts who had burned the village, he thought. Perhaps it was the work of desperate villagers, who even with their sacrifice were not able to save their lives. Vahanian said nothing, but for the first time, Tris thought he saw a flicker of fear in the fighter's eyes.
"Let's get that water and get out of here," Carroway said, swinging back up on his horse.
"I think that's a good idea," Tris replied. He turned, and stopped short. In the center of the street, between them and the village's well, stood a man.
Carroway's bow was raised, trained on the man's heart, as Tris took a step forward. "We mean you no harm," Tris said, advancing open-handed.
"Have you come for the fire?" the man shouted, drawing a few steps nearer. He was old, with wild white hair framing a gaunt face, caked with dirt and blood and streaked with the spittle that drooled from a corner of his mouth. The stubble of a white beard shadowed his face. Torn rags hung from his body, which bore the marks of an encounter with the beasts in the long claw marks that raked across one shoulder and down his chest—claw marks that unmistakably resembled Vahanian's scar. His dark eyes were bright with madness. "Have you come for the fire?"
"What happened?" Tris asked. Behind him, Vahanian cursed under his breath.
The man spread his arms wide. "The spirits came," he said, turning to take in the village with his gesture. "They came for us, only we hadn't been good. No," he said, shaking his head, "we hadn't been good. So they weren't good spirits. Dark spirits, they were, with wings of fire."
Tris looked at the man with a mixture of horror and pity. "The fire," he said slowly, trying to reach through the man's madness for answers. "What started the fire?"
The man brightened. "Oh, we did," he replied. "To see them better. Because fire sends them home, don't you know?"
"How did you survive?" Tris pressed.
The old man began to laugh. "I'll tell you a secret," he whispered, one filthy, gnarled hand reaching beneath his tunic. Vahanian and Carroway readied their weapons, but when the man withdrew his hand, he held only a charm on a worn leather thong. Behind him, Tris heard Vahanian gasp a potent curse.
"I wanted to die, but it wouldn't let me." Grief overtook him and he began to sob as he tore the talisman from around his neck and threw it at Tris's feet. "I tried. I attacked them with my bare hands, ran at them with swords, walked among the flames," he sobbed in a singsong voice. "But it wouldn't let them take me, and now I'm all alone," he repeated. His hand slipped to his belt and drew a dagger, raising it purposefully. "But I'm going now," he said, his mad eyes clear with purpose. "I'm going home," he said, and before any of the three could stop him, he plunged the dagger deep into his chest. A smile lit his ravaged features as he stiffened. "There are no fires," he whispered, "no fires at all," he rasped as he fell dead and his hand slipped away from the knife hilt.
"Leave that cursed thing and let's get out of here," Vahanian cried as Tris bent to pick up the talisman. It was a small, simple design worked in a burnished gray metal with a pattern of parallel and perpendicular lines, a circle embedded within them. As they sprinted for their horses, Tris slipped it into his pocket.
"Look!" Carina warned as the things came into view. Tris scrambled for his horse and Carroway moved into position, his bow at the ready. Three of the gray beasts loomed just beyond the well, their heads inclined to scent out living blood. Carroway held steady until they ventured closer, then lit and loosed a flaming arrow. His aim was true, and the missile struck its target. The thing howled as its claws tore at its own chest while dark ichor flowed from its gaping mouth. It fell forward, dead. Carina cried a warning from behind.
"Carina and Berry, stay between us," Vahanian shouted as the group retreated. Their horses whinnied, terrified by the smell of the beasts. Carroway picked off one more of the beasts. Carina and Vahanian lit their weapons, and Tris lobbed a fireball toward the lead creature. Two more staggered from the wreckage toward them.
"We can't hold them at bay for long," Carroway shouted, loosing another arrow. Although he dropped three of the beasts, two more appeared from the shadows to take their places.
"Ride for it!" Tris commanded. "I'll hold them as long as I can, just get out of here!" Carina wheeled her horse and the others followed, their panicked mounts pounding down the village street as Tris lobbed fireballs.
Behind him, he heard a horse's terrified cry and Berry's scream. "Berry!" Carina shouted. Berry's horse reared and bolted, leaving the girl on the road.
"They're gaining!" Carroway shouted, firing off two more arrows.
Vahanian leaned into his horse and kicked its sides, riding down on Berry, his lance leveled. He snatched the girl up by her cloak with his left hand and she clambered onto his horse behind him, hanging on for her life.
A guttural howl split the twilight as two more of the beasts appeared, blocking Carina's path. As Tris flung fireballs and Carroway fired arrows, the beasts began to circle.
Carina screamed as one of the beasts lunged for her horse. She poled it in the chest with her flaming stave, but her mount reared and nearly threw her. With a battle cry, Vahanian leveled his lance and rode for the thing at full gallop. Berry ducked her head and clung, white-knuckled, to his back.
Vahanian's lance scored a direct hit on the beast closest to Carina. His lance impaled the writhing creature, enveloping it in flames as it shrieked, charring with an acrid stench. He shook the dead thing free of his weeapon and wheeled his horse, wrestling it against its fear, rearing on two legs to bash his lance down on another beast.
"Those were my last arrows," Carroway breathed.
"I'll make an opening," Tris shouted above the din. "Ride for the road and don't look back."
At that, he dug his heels into his mount, crouching low, and bolted toward the center of the cursed village. Heart thudding, Tris realized that the beasts followed his sudden motion, whether from predator's instinct or Arontala's curse.
"Now!" he shouted, as the beasts—nearly a dozen of them—started after him. From the scrabble of their clawed feet behind him, he badly misjudged their speed. His ruse might have only a few seconds to play out. He heard the thunder of hoof beats and knew the others were making for the road. Barely ahead of the monsters, Tris suddenly wheeled his mount.
Tris opened himself to his power, and his mind formed the image faster than the words could reach his lips. Summoning a shielding over himself and his panicked mount, Tris called a curtain of fire that sprang up from the village earth, enveloping them. Even within the warding, he could hear the death cries of the beasts as the flames incinerated them.
It was over just as quickly as it had started, leaving Tris and his horse standing amid a blackened circle and the remains of the cursed beasts.
A cry cut through the silence. At first, Tris thought it was Carina—then he realized that the sound came from a grove of trees near the other side of the village, opposite from the direction in which his friends had fled. He turned his horse toward the sound, and although the mount was trembling, it obeyed, carrying him toward the crossroads.
A lone traveler, stalked by one of the beasts, was running out of time. The traveler was capable with a sword, but the beast was implacable, and Tris knew he had only moments to intervene.
"Stand clear!" he shouted, spurring his horse toward the traveler at a full gallop. Calling down a curtain of fire here was impossible—in the wooded area, they would be killed along with the beast. Tris stretched out his hand, and the image of Vahanian's lance came to mind. As his horse closed the distance, Tris willed both force and flame and a streak of fire shot from his outstretched palm. It struck the beast in the chest and engulfed it. Fire crackled in the dried brush.
"Get out of there!" Tris shouted to the traveler. The traveler dismounted and ran into the thicket, emerging a moment later with a small bundle before swinging back up onto the big stallion. "This way!" Tris gestured, and the traveler rode toward him, glancing backward several times at the fallen beast.
Together, Tris and the traveler thundered down the roadway until the smoke of the village was far behind them. When they finally slowed, he realized that the rest of his party—if they had survived—were on the far side of the village. A bad headache had begun to build in reaction to his working, and he struggled to clear his thoughts. He resolved to ask for some of Carina's headache tea, assuming his friends had also made it to safety.
"Are you all right?" he asked breathlessly as he reined in his horse.
The traveler did the same, and sheathed the sword still clutched in hand. "Thank you," the traveler said, and the heavy cowl fell back to reveal a woman, close to Tris's own age, her auburn hair caught back in a braid and the glint of a studded mail breastplate unmistakable beneath the neckline of her cloak. "We never had a chance," she said ruefully. "That... thing... came out of nowhere. I couldn't hold it off."
"We?" Tris asked, hearing the note of sadness in her voice.
"I had a tame fox, and a hunting gyregon," she said quietly. "The fox tried to attack when we were surprised. I saw him die," she said with a catch in her voice. "The gyregon is badly wounded," she continued, and only then did Tris see the bundle that she held on the saddle in front of her. Tris saw the head of her gyregon loll to one side. He brought his horse alongside hers and dug into his pack. Tris shook free a piece of cloth and offered it to her.
"It smells of cheese," he said with a smile. "But you might make a sling to carry him."
"Thank you," she said with a note of surprise. Only when she winced as she reached for the cloth did Tris see the deep gash in her shoulder.
"Night's a dangerous time to ride alone," he said. "My companions should be on the other side of that small village. We were also ambushed, but we drove the beasts back," he said, omitting just how that was accomplished. "We have a healer with us. Perhaps she could look at your shoulder."
He saw the wariness in the traveler's eyes. "You're welcome to camp with us for the night," he offered. "Be on your way in the morning. We'll all be safer with another sword," he said with a nod toward the weapon she sheathed. "I doubt any of us will sleep this night,"
He paused. "By the way, I'm Tris."
Whether it was the promise of healing or the fear of camping alone, she seemed to come to a decision, and a faint smile came to her lips. "I'm Kiara." She paused again. "I was sent on a Journey by the priestesses," she admitted, letting her horse fall into step with Tris's as they rode, warily watching the bushes for signs of other beasts. "It's a... rite of passage... among my people. A way to test what you're made of, I guess." "Sounds like a good way to get killed." Kiara smiled. "Maybe you're right." She looked off into the distance. "I had the choice between that and an arranged marriage, so to tell you the truth, I thought I'd take my chances." "Someone must be disappointed." Kiara looked at him as if trying to discern whether his comment was sincere. "Angry, yes," she sighed. "Disappointed—not really." She adjusted the gyregon in its makeshift sling. "He's got quite a few things in common with that... thing... you just killed, to tell the truth," she said distastefully. "Then I hope the Journey is successful." She looked at him as if taking his measure. "What you did back there—you are a mage?"
After the display at the crossroads, it would be futile to protest, Tris thought. "Mage student might be more accurate," he said uncomfortably. He stopped and rose in his stirrups to take his bearings.
"Right now, I'd like to know whether this road meets up again with the road on the other side of the village," he said. There was a waxing moon, which saved the need for a torch, but the rolling hills made it difficult to gauge the lay of the land. "I have no desire to ride back through the village."
"I have a map," Kiara offered. She dug the map from her pack, grimacing with the movement. Tris guessed that the wound was deeper than she let on.
When Kiara unfolded the map, Tris called a small ball of cold handfire. That Kiara did not seem afraid of his power impressed him. That she was able to hold her own against one of the beasts, however briefly, intrigued him more. He chanced another glance at her. From the way she sat her horse and held herself—as well as the stoic way she bore her wound—he guessed that she was military-trained. Her brown eyes were intelligent, and her manner spoke of education and means. She wore no ornamentation, and her cloak and tunic were those of a man. In the dim glow of the handfire, it was her face that caught his attention. How is it that a beautiful woman— trained at war or not—rides alone into the wilderness to escape an unwanted suitor?
"Look," Kiara said, pointing at a spot on the map. "If that's where we are, then the roads should meet not far from here."
Tris nodded. "Let's go. The sooner we find my friends, the safer we'll be."
Kiara lapsed into silence as they rode. She felt Greyfoot's absence keenly, but lacked the words or the will to share the loss with her riding companion, who might think her mad for mourning a fox. She glanced at him as they rode. Shoulder-length, white-blond hair was caught back in a queue. His manner and his speech suggested status that his calloused hands contradicted. What is a mage doing riding around the countryside, she wondered? Although grateful for his intervention, the sudden rescue made her suspicious. Lady and Childe! I could be getting myself into more trouble, but I don't think I'll live long riding alone!
Jae shifted in his sling. She stroked his scales, and the unexpected kindness Tris showed made her look at him again. Though close to her own age, she guessed, he looked weary, as if he had been on the road for quite some time. His cloak was of common cloth, and his breeches of homespun fabric. But his blue eyes had a haunted look to them, and she wondered from what, besides the beasts, he might be running. Something about his face, his high cheekbones and his profile, looked familiar.
She had not traveled long before she learned that out here, everyone was running from something. There's more he's not saying, she thought. She sensed no threat from him, something rare given the other soldiers she met on the road. Her obvious skill with a sword and her warhorse did not seem to bother him. I wonder where his party is going, she mused. Perhaps they'll turn off before I head north to Westmarch. I'd hate to explain why I'm traveling to a library that doesn't exist any more!
They rode barely half a candlemark before a man dressed in riding leathers stepped out from the bushes. Kiara's hand fell to her sword, but Tris reined in his mount.
"You waited for me?" Tris called in recognition. The swordsman, a lean, fit man with dark brown hair and a hunter's tan, nodded.
"Took you long enough. I was just about to ride back to find you," the man replied, in a tone both relieved and annoyed.
"I ran into another one of those friendly little beasts," Tris replied sarcastically. "And drove him off before he could eat a fellow traveler," he added, indicating Kiara.
Just then, Jae popped his head out of the makeshift sling and flicked his tongue. The swordsman's expression moved from annoyance to concern to resignation. "Picking up strays?" he asked with an edge, directing the comment to Tris. "She took a bad gash and needs a healer. So does her gyregon."
The swordsman held his ground for a moment, then shook his head and turned aside. "Hey, it's your party," he said, turning his back and starting up the road. "The more the merrier."
The obvious play of wills between the two men left Kiara wondering even more about her new companion. The swordsman was clearly used to being in charge, and seemed to consider himself master of the excursion. But there was an air of command to Tris that won out over the headstrong swordsman. They had not gone far before the swordsman signaled them to dismount, and Kiara slid down from Wraith as best she could without squashing the gyregon, who protested ill-humouredly. Tris took the reins from her and led Wraith over to a small stand of trees, where he tethered the horse with the other mounts. That Tris did not insult her by trying to help her down from her horse made yet another positive impression.
"Careful how you split up that food. There's another mouth to feed," the swordsman called as they approached the camp.
"Glad to see you back in one piece," called a tall, black-haired man who rose from near the fire. He was strikingly handsome, with blue-black hair framing his face. When he moved, it was with a dancer's grace more than the stride of a fighter.
"So am I," Tris replied as he tethered his horse. Beyond them, a thin, brunette woman hunched next to a fire, and a young girl assiduously cut a loaf of bread with a knife.
"She's been hurt," Tris said as they drew closer. "I told her we had a healer with us."
At that, the woman looked up and froze as her eyes met Kiara's. Kiara felt breath leave her as if she'd been poleaxed, as she met those eyes in startled recognition.
She wasn't even sure she had choked out Carina's name before the dark-haired healer was in her arms, both of them talking and crying at once.
"Did you get this kind of greeting too?" the swordsman asked dryly as the others looked on in amazement.
Kiara dragged her sleeve across her eyes. "I'm sorry," she said, finding her voice. "It's just, oh Goddess! We're cousins, and Carina's been on the road for so long—"
The black-haired man stepped toward them. "Then you must be Kiara Sharsequm."
"How—"
"It's all right, Kiara," Carina said, collecting herself with a deep breath and wiping the tears from her eyes. "They're friends. Come on. I'll take a look at that shoulder and at Jae. We've got a lot of catching up to do."
Carina introduced Carroway, Vahanian and Berry, then went to retrieve her healer's bag from the satchels on her horse while Berry pressed a hunk of bread and chunks of meat and cheese into Kiara's hands. Jae's head thrust out of the sling, surprising the girl, who laughed and then reached for the gyregon. Kiara expected a hiss of annoyance, but to her surprise, the gyregon accepted the girl's gentle touch. Kiara carefully removed the sling, leaving the gyregon wrapped in the cloth bandage and handed him to Berry, who put a pot of water on the fire and then settled down cross-legged where she could hear Kiara's story and feed niblets of cheese to the gyregon.
When the healer finished with her shoulder, Kiara found that it no longer throbbed. Jae hissed in recognition as Carina took him gently from Berry, and let the little gyregon flick his tongue along her hand in acknowledgment. After a short while, the cut along Jae's belly looked nearly healed. Between healings, Carina mixed a tea which she presented to Tris, who looked as if he were in pain. He accepted the tea gratefully.
Night had fallen by the time Carina had recounted their escape from the slavers, and the detail she provided about Tris's role in obtaining their freedom confirmed that the young mage had considerably more power than he let on. She explained how circumstances had changed their course, directing them all to the Library at Westmarch instead of Dhasson. Carina even managed to tell of Cam's disappearance with a fair amount of control, although Kiara was unashamed of the tears it brought to her own eyes. Of the others' stories, Carina offered little. While she talked, Tris and Carroway made rush torches and arrows to replace the ones they had used and Vahanian refilled the bucket with pitch, ready for another encounter.
"I hate to break up the story," Vahanian said from where he leaned against the trunk of a tree, "but if we're riding out tomorrow, do we have some idea of where this Library of yours is?" He stretched up and back to flick off a loose piece of bark before looking at the group once more, glancing from Tris to Carina and back again.
"Would it help if I gave you my map?" Kiara offered. Briefly, she explained her quest, and the Oracle's directive that she seek out the fabled library.
"Now we're getting somewhere," Vahanian replied, accepting the old map.
"If this relic is true," he said after a moment's examination, "then we're within a day's ride. Of course, that assumes the Library is still there. Spook here," he added with a nod in Tris's direction, "can tell you I'm more of a seeing-is-believing kind of guy."
"Maybe we should get some sleep," Tris interjected. "We'll have our chance tomorrow to see if the Library is real or not."
Kiara nodded, suddenly aware of just how exhausted she was.
"I'll help you find a spot for your bedroll," Carina offered. "We stay pretty close together." She managed a tired smile. "We decided that we'd give up a little privacy to stay out of the slavers' hands."
"Good idea," Kiara agreed. She looked from Tris to Vahanian to Carroway. "I expect to take my turn on watch," she said.
"First night's free," Carroway smiled. "Tomorrow, you can take your turn, and mine too if you'd like," he said. Kiara tended to Wraith then carried her blankets to where Carina cleared a space for her. After so long alone on the trail, she was surprised at how great a comfort it was to fall asleep with the sounds of other people nearby.
Morning came all too quickly. Carroway warmed gruel over the small fire, which they washed down with water from a spring beyond the hill. The small group had been together long enough to have a routine for getting on the road, Kiara noted, and tired as they were, they packed up the camp in record time.
Kiara felt a tingle of excitement as they took to the road. Finding the Library had become a quest in itself, and she sensed the same anticipation among the others. For a while, Kiara rode with Carina, enjoying the familiar companionship. Jae hopped from her shoulder to Berry's, and let the girl stroke his scales as he made contented chirps.
Mid-morning, Kiara found herself riding alongside Carroway, and enjoyed his songs and tales. By the good-natured ribbing, she gathered that his stories were familiar to the others, and Carroway explained that he often earned their night's keep by entertaining in taverns.
Most interesting was the time she rode next to Tris. Taciturn at first, he opened up a little when she revealed her own limited abilities with magic, and they talked of magecraft, both experienced or rumored. She was surprised when Carina drew her away privately as they made camp that evening. "What were you and Tris so deep in conversation about?" Carina asked.
Kiara shrugged. "We were trading theories about magic more than anything, comparing the few mages we've met, that sort of thing."
"I'm amazed you're so open with him," Carina said. "Considering."
Kiara frowned. "Considering what?"
Carina looked at her carefully. "You don't know, do you?"
"Know what?" Kiara asked. "Would you please stop talking in riddles?"
"I didn't introduce him because I assumed you'd covered all that," Carina replied. "Did he tell you who he is, or why he's out here?"
Kiara shook her head. "It's never really come up. I've gotten used to not asking that sort of thing on the road. I assumed you trusted him."
Carina nodded. "I do, completely. But there's something you need to know. Tris and his friends saw King Bricen's murder, and the murderer wants them dead. Tris was told he'd find his answers in Westmarch."
"There's something else you're not saying."
Carina met her eyes. "Kiara, he's Martris Drayke. Of Margolan. Jared Drayke's younger brother."
Kiara exhaled sharply and glanced back at Tris, who was standing near the fire talking with Vahanian. "Sweet Chenne," she said.
The resemblance she noted now made sense, Kiara thought, looking at Tris from a distance. While Jared was as dark as Tris was fair, there were similarities, around the eyes, in the high cheekbones, although Tris had a kinder turn to his lip and his stance revealed none of Jared's casual arrogance. Her revulsion and anger at what she had seen on the Margolan road swept back over her, equal to her fear of what an arranged marriage to such a king would mean, for her people and for herself. Could two brothers be so truly different? Yet, she genuinely liked Tris and found herself more comfortable with him than with most men. He showed no need to best her at sword skills or patronize her. He did not ask her rank at all, nor allude to any royal blood of his own.
"He means to find a way to unseat Jared," Carina continued. "King Harrol of Dhasson may be prepared to stake a fortune behind him to do it." Her dark eyes were worried. "There's going to be war, Kiara, and we're smack in the middle of it."
Maybe more so than you think, my cousin, Kiara thought, looking again at Tris. Best to keep her own counsel for a while, and as she did, to put some distance between herself and Tris, at least for now.
"Thanks for the warning," she said in her best off-hand voice. "While they're rooting around for supper, why don't you fill me in on the others? Starting with him," she said, with a nod toward Vahanian.