20. Onora
Chapter 20
Onora
O nora couldn’t find any adequate words for the rest of the night. The storm raged outside, and the one inside her had become eerily silent. Calm. A beast tamed that had always roared in her ear. She glanced at Dryston often, watching as he gazed at the ceiling, body tense and alert. Because of keeping watch, or whatever the fuck they had just shared? She didn’t know.
All she knew was that Dryston sincerely believed he was innocent. He believed that his family had been killed unjustly. And he had been truly, genuinely concerned about her while panic had seized her senses.
She fucking hated him for it.
The voice inside her roused, chuckling softly at her racing thoughts, and she scowled, pulling her knees up to her chest.
You’re awfully active tonight, s he whispered to it, expecting no response in return.
We’re so close. I can feel her.
Onora swallowed, startled. It had purred earlier, when Dryston had said the blessing to the twin moon goddesses, but try as she might to coax it out, she’d been unable to get it to respond. Even now, the voice seemed to fade like an echo in her mind, sleepy and soft.
It tugged inside her, drawing her attention to the window. Rain still splattered against it, softer now, and Dryston had put the fire out a few hours ago. It was cold, but the furs helped. She stood, going to the window and letting the chain hang taut between them. Only darkness met her gaze as she looked out the window.
Then something glowed, nestled in the trees, moving slowly. She squinted, but it was no use, she couldn’t make it out until it came closer. The glowing were eyes, some being enshrouded in shadows, a spectral hand raised and beckoning.
She gasped, stumbling back and running into Dryston. She flipped around and his hands were on her arms, steadying as he looked out the window.
“What is it?” he asked.
She looked back, but it was gone.
It looked exactly like the being she’d seen in Evolis. When her gaze found Dryston again, he was staring down at her, eyes searching, open, pleading. His hands on her arm felt like a fire brand, and she stared dumbly at him. Everything was off-kilter. She didn’t know how to feel about anything right now. She detected no lies when Dryston spoke to her, but then that meant Amherst was lying, or the Hunters were mistaken or ...
Her mind reeled with the information. She needed to get these shackles off and talk to Amherst. She needed to see the Hunters again and explain to them everything and re-investigate the farm. Something was wrong. It had to be.
Nothing made sense anymore.
She moved out of his arms and stepped away, rubbing them. “The rain has slowed. We should keep going.”
They encountered nothing amiss that night or morning. Animals and insects skittered about, having returned to the forest. No spectral beings slithered through the trees, beckoning, no Hunters pursuing them. The storm had likely washed their tracks away, which was good.
Or she supposed it was.
She turned over the contents of Amherst’s letter with every step, her mind recalling the curve of every letter and punctuation perfectly, trying to find some error in it.
But it wasn’t there.
The handwriting was his. The tone of the letter was his. The signet was his.
If she encountered Hunters she knew well, then she’d have a better chance at them hearing her out and getting to the truth of it all.
What would happen to Dryston, then?
The attack they’d seen in the woods—it couldn’t have been him. Not only because he had been with her, but also because she’d felt it. His horror, his rage, his confusion.
He hadn’t known about that attack, and it was too similar to the farm to be done by different sources.
She felt untethered now. She had no idea what to do, so she would just keep going forward until she could figure it out. Part of her wondered if Dryston could still be tricking her—if perhaps other demons had done the attack in the forest at his command.
But to what end? And why had she been seeing things like she’d seen in Evolis?
They broke through the trees in the late afternoon and stumbled out onto a road. She cursed, not wanting to be out in the open, but it was too late.
Only a little ways down the road was a wagon and several humans on horses. All wearing leather armor and carrying an array of weapons.
She swallowed.
They could dart into the woods, but the people were too close, they’d catch them quickly, and they’d already seen them.
They stared at them with curiosity, and she said to him, quietly, “Play along.”
She reached into her boot and pulled out a dagger, and Dryston made a huffing sound.
“You have another one?” he asked, incredulous.
“Be quiet. I need them to think you’re my prisoner.”
The group came close, most on horses, two on a cart.
“Hey ho!” the man in the cart called out, looking between her and Dryston, a keen gleam in his eye.
She evened out her breathing, trying to look nonchalant, praying, hoping—desperately needing Dryston to keep his mouth shut and play along.
“Hello, travelers!” she said, somehow succeeding at cheeriness, despite her thundering pulse.
“What have we here?” he asked, taking them in. “A Hunter chained to a demon.”
Onora nodded. “I caught him lurking in the woods.”
“There’s a bounty out for a demon,” he said.
Onora flashed him a grin. “I’m hoping this is the one.”
Dryston stiffened next to her but said nothing. She willed her face to stay neutral, to give nothing away, hoping Dryston could trust her a little. There were many things she didn’t know at the moment, but she did know she needed Dryston alive, and she knew she couldn’t let them be taken in by anyone who wasn’t a Hunter she knew well.
“We appreciate you keeping our lands safe and free of their kind. Are you headed to Venatu?”
Their eyes bored into her, their attention so keen she could barely breathe.
“A little north of here, actually. I’m to transport him to Venatu eventually, but I’m meeting with others to take him there.”
“Do the chains inhibit his magic?” The man looked them over warily.
She nodded, pulling the shackles up for him to see. “Indeed.”
The man nodded. “Very good, very good. Those elven tools are amazing.” The man stuck a finger to the back of his cart. “Get in and I’ll take you to Norlein. I’ll even pay for you to get a room at the local inn and some food.”
Sweat stuck to her palm, and she desperately wanted to look at Dryston, to verify he’d play along, but that would blow their cover. The good news was that these people didn’t know they were being hunted.
“That would be greatly appreciated!” she said. If she refused, it could be worse for them. At the very least, this would get them one more night. They could get to the city, keep their cover, and then leave in the night.
She walked to the cart and another man dismounted, coming over and offering his hand to help her up. “I’m Max,” he said.
She took it, giving him a smile as she stepped up, hazarding a glance at Dryston as she did. His attention was narrowed on the man—where their hands touched—his jaw flexing.
Max glared at Dryston. “What are you looking at, bat?”
Dryston flashed him a smile. “Care to help me in the cart as well?”
Onora gritted her teeth, nostrils flaring. Anger flashed in his verdant stare, a veritable storm as he held her gaze, challenging.
“I have half a mind to make you walk behind the cart,” the man growled, stepping up close to Dryston, drawing his sword.
Onora yanked on the chain, catching Dryston off guard and making him stumble against the cart, glaring up at her. She knelt down, holding his gaze, desperately hoping he could read her intentions, that he would play along.
But why would he think she was trying to help him?
She’d screamed before. To get the Hunters’ attention.
Shit.
She swallowed, desperately needing this to work, begging her shadows to behave. Grabbing his hair, she made a fist, letting her knuckles rest against his skull and she willed him to understand, to see that she was trying to help, that they were still on the same side.
Something flashed in his eyes, and the anger abated to confusion and wariness.
“Get in the cart,” she said, her voice a cool command. “And stop mouthing off.”
There was a brief moment where they stared at each other, his jaw flexing and her fingers tapping on the hilt of her dagger. Then his eyes darkened, dipping to her lips.
She released his hair, and he climbed into the cart, laying back against the hay, smiling devilishly at the man, who got back on his horse, snarling.
“You have him well trained,” Max said with a sinister chuckle. “But let me know if you want me to give him a little pain to keep him in line. I don’t mind.”
Onora shivered at the look in his eyes, sitting back, giving Dryston a long, warning look, begging him to behave. His hand discreetly brushed against hers and she felt an emotion— positive—a confirmation that he would, and she breathed a little easier.
They just needed to make it to a place they could escape.
Onora kept up small talk with the mercenaries all the way there, playing a part—one that now felt so dichotomous to who she was, but wasn’t so far from who she had been a mere week ago.
“I’m Vernon,” the man driving the cart said to her, casting a look back at her here and there as the horses clopped along, “and this is my crew. We were hired to protect Norlein and the farmlands around it after what happened outside Venatu.”
“Do you know what happened there?” she asked.
“Aye,” Vernon said. “No doubt about it. The attack was demonic. The whole farm was lit up in a fire black as night, with flashes of lightning inside it. Looked like a host of shadows with a storm in the middle. I’ve never heard of such a thing or such magic. I didn’t see it myself, but it got everyone in a tizzy. Seems that Lord of Shadows is trying to invade again. But we won’t let him, and certainly not with fine Hunters like you on our side.”
She gave him a tight smile as Max pulled out bread and dried meat, giving it to her to eat. That description sounded oddly familiar. Sounded oddly like what she woke to often enough and nothing like what she’d seen a demon do before. She gave a roll and some meat to Dryston, and the man frowned.
“You should let him starve,” he said.
“Unfortunately,” she said, taking a bite out of her roll, “he managed to shackle me to him before the poison took full effect. If he dies, I have to lug his body around until a magesmith can take this off. So I need him at least strong enough to walk about.”
Vernon nodded. “A right nasty business, that is.”
“Is there a magesmith nearby, perchance?” she asked, hoping against hope that there was.
Vernon shook his head. “Only ones are in Venatu, where I suppose you’ll be heading. And the elf lands of course.”
She nodded. It was the opposite of true, but she’d play along. “I need to get him back for a trial.”
“If we had a magesmith here to get you free, we’d give him the only kind of trial he needs,” Max growled.
A swash of anger whipped through Onora. “Justice isn’t to be taken out at random. There are proper channels to pursue it.”
The man narrowed his eyes, and Onora flexed her hand around her dagger. That was clearly the wrong thing to say. Even if that’s all things she would have said, regardless. Even if she’d trained her whole life to fight demons, she couldn’t believe that they were all inherently bad. She’d always seen their rulers—the lords and ladies and chieftains—as the ones causing evil. Surely, they weren’t born that way. Not any more than a bear or wolf was bad but still killed when needed. Not any more than any being was—but perhaps life taught them to be vicious and evil. Perhaps many of them were taught to be that way, to oppress others. But surely they weren’t terrible from the start, not a baby.
Not Kaemon and Melina’s baby.
Her mind dipped to a dark place, rattling her. Kaemon was not bad. She could feel it in her bones. Yet he’d been hunted, imprisoned, tortured by Hunters.
Enid had been helpful, kind even.
Dryston had been honorable.
All lies. It had to all be lies.
But who was lying? The Hunters? Or the demons?
“Honor is the only thing in life holding justice together,” Onora said, giving Max that narrow-eyed gaze back. “And if you pursue justice based on feelings, you have no honor. There is evidence and trials to determine if justice is required, and I will not betray my own honor based on feelings.”
Vernon smiled. “You’re a good one, miss. I can see it. Max is a bit of lightning strike. Ignore him.”
Onora nodded, thankful for Vernon’s clear head. She laid down on the hay. “Mind if I nap?” she asked. “Sleeping in the woods isn’t exactly peaceful.”
Vernon nodded. “Sleep as much as you need.”
Onora closed her eyes, happy to avoid any more conversation. But she didn’t sleep, she stayed alert, listening, waiting for any warning of danger.
They came to Norlein by evening and rolled up to a small, dingy inn. People gaped at Dryston, but said nothing as Vernon and the others escorted them in.
He stopped right inside the door, turning to her and placing a fatherly hand on her shoulder. “Listen here, we’ll escort you to Venatu. We’ll take you there so you don’t have to be alone with him any longer.”
“I’m supposed to wait for my counterparts here. Norlein is our rally point. They should be here tomorrow, so I’d hate to hold anyone up.”
Vernon patted her shoulder. “Very well, but we will stay with you until they show up. We’ll get a room where several of us can keep watch over him while you sleep.”
She pursed her lips. “I appreciate it, but that’s not necessary.”
“You’d sleep alone in there with him?” Max asked, incredulous.
She cleared her throat, desperately grabbing at the fraying ends of her deception. “Again, he’s docile. I think this one is a bit addled in the brain, and the poison has made him pliable. I give it to him each night and I’ve had no issue.”
Max watched her with an unnerving fervor, and Onora looked away, focusing on Vernon.
“I think one of us should be in there with you,” Max said, voice low and dangerous.
Fuck.
“I fear that I can’t allow that, as much as I appreciate it,” she said, keeping her voice steady. “Too many would try to circumvent justice by killing him outright. They won’t care for the proper channels, nor for the fact that I will have to haul a rotting corpse on my arm until I can get it off. While you seem wonderful, I have an oath to uphold, and I must lock and bar my door tonight and protect this prisoner from any vigilante justice.”
It was silent for a moment, and she thought they wouldn’t buy it. They would call her bluff.
The problem was, she believed every word she said. She knew Dryston was in great danger here. People would gladly kill him and let her clean up the mess if it meant they got to take out their own warped justice.
Finally, Vernon nodded. “You’re honorable. I can see that and appreciate it. I can also see the truth of your words. What we will do is take turns patrolling the inn and making sure he doesn’t escape, and if he attacks, you can scream and we will find a way to get to you.”
She dipped her head in thanks, but also to hide the clear relief that washed over her. “I thank you. That’s more than I can ask for.”
She walked forward, yanking Dryston roughly for good measure. “I’d like some rest now. I’ve had a long day, and I need my strength to keep up the journey.”
Vernon purchased her a room, handing her the key and then they bade them good night. She led Dryston up to the room, feeling every eye on her, feeling every bit of anger and fear that followed them up.
This was bad.
This was very, very bad.