Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
W hile the forest made tracking more difficult than open terrain, it offered shelter from the harsh noonday sun. Brishen and his companions had taken sanctuary beneath the shade of towering trees to wait out the most glaring part of the day before they continued their search. Dendarah leaned against the trunk of one tree, eyes closed as she dozed.
Brishen, on the other hand, was wide-awake, alternating between pacing and doing his own tracking in the nearby area. During his third foray back to their temporary campsite, Anhuset, who’d been watching him without comment, finally spoke.
“You need to do as Dendarah and sleep, even if it’s only for a couple of hours. This isn’t just running prey to ground. You know how good tracking works. You sacrifice care for speed, and you’ll miss something important. You won’t be as alert if you’re tired. I can stay awake and keep watch.”
Brishen gave her an incredulous look. “I can’t sleep. Could you were you in my place? What if someone had made off with Serovek?”
She snorted. “I’d love to see someone try to stuff that big ox into a haywain and trundle off without anyone noticing. To answer you, probably not, but you need to. Like you, I think we’re headed in the right direction. The fact that this path leads to Orshulgyn isn’t a coincidence, but it might also be a purposeful gull or even a trap. At least give Dendarah an hour or so. You brought her with you because she’s an excellent tracker and because she might recognize one of the abductors. Let her rest so she can complete her task to the best of her ability.”
He sighed and plopped down beside Anhuset where she sat in a patch of grass. “You’re right.” He eyed her, noting the subtle changes in her face, the contentment there just below the surface of her usually grim visage. “Serovek is having an effect on you. When did you become an acolyte for the virtues of patience and caution?”
She ran a hand across her eyes for a moment as if burdened by a memory. Her expression was one of mild horror when she looked at him. “The first time I had to host a tea at High Salure.” She shrugged. “Well, Serovek was the one who hosted it. I just spent the time grinning at everyone invited.”
Considering their present situation, Brishen didn’t think he had it in him to be amused by anything, but her comment made him chuckle. He could imagine the scene—a bevy of aristocratic Beladine men and women gathered in one of Serovek’s lavish solars, partaking of tea and spirits. Or trying to. No doubt there had been much cup rattling and swallowed gasps of terror as Anhuset exposed her sharp Kai teeth to them in a wide, unapologetic grin. He had a very good idea whose influence was at play there.
“I see Ildiko has inspired you,” he said. “Surely the tea gathering wasn’t that bad.”
She scowled at him. “It was the worst afternoon of my life. I’d take pitched battle against a giant scarpatine any day over one of those torture sessions. I usually leave them to our steward who handles such things as if born to them. Should she ever hint at leaving her position at High Salure, I will nail her feet to the floor.”
He laughed a second time and reached out to grip her arm affectionately. “I’ve missed your dour ways. Tell me what havoc you’ve wreaked at High Salure as the Beladine Stallion’s margravina.”
“Ah, gods, never let him hear you call him that. He’ll puff up like a stuffed pigeon and I’ll never hear the end of how his reputation as a magician between the sheets has even reached the Kai royal court.” She gave him a quick wink before launching into an accounting of the months she’d spent adjusting to life as High Salure’s margravina. There was plenty of commentary regarding raids, gambling with the soldiers serving there, complaints regarding an endless parade of Beladine visitors and guests, praise for the new steward who’d taken up the role with quick efficiency, and Serovek’s training of a mare bought from the famed Nadiza’s lightning herd.
Brishen listened to it all, or thought he had, until a sharp push on his shoulder startled him awake. Despite his assurance that he couldn’t sleep, he’d drifted off.
Anhuset stood over him, both frown and smile warring for a place on her features. “Don’t panic. You haven’t been asleep long. Dendarah’s awake and ready. We can go.”
Dendarah’s tracking took them toward the edge of the forest which later gave way to open fields and the hills in the distance. It was slow work as they picked their way through woodland terrain, moving forward, then backtracking as they searched spoor in front and behind them, gradually working their way toward the forest’s edge.
Dawn was just cresting the horizon when the royal guard pointed toward an opening in the trees where one could see the slopes and the vague outline of structures perched on the peak of one hill. “They’re no longer putting in much effort to hide their tracks. What I’ve seen so far tells me they’re headed that way, toward the village of dead mages.”
Something about that rang ominous to Brishen. Why there? What nefarious plan had the kidnappers enacted that required they drag a woman and a baby to the forgotten grave site of human sorcerers? “How sure are you they’re headed there?”
She didn’t hesitate. “Quite sure at this point. This track is so obvious now, it’s as if they want us to see where they’re going.”
Dendarah halted when Anhuset suddenly raised a closed fist to signal quiet. She pointed to a spot hidden within the depths of the trees and nocked an arrow against her bowstring. Brishen did the same, and all three crept toward hiding spots as the sound of an approach grew closer and louder. Whoever it was made no attempt to quiet their steps, crashing through the brush like a spooked boar.
His heart stopped at the strident wail of a child, then hurtled into his throat when a ragged, bloodstained and barefoot Ildiko lurched into the small clearing, holding a squirming Tarawin with one arm and a hefty stick in her free hand.
In that moment he forgot caution, forgot battle training. “Ildiko.” He uttered her name as a prayer and rushed toward her, uncaring that he might be hurtling straight into an ambush.
Her eyes widened when she saw him. “Brishen,” she cried in a hoarse voice and stumbled toward him. “My gods, Brishen!”
He crossed the clearing in two strides to scoop her and Tarawin into his embrace. The stick Ildiko held fell to the ground as she wrapped her arm around him. Tarawin squawked a protest at being squashed between them. Brishen eased his grip, running a frantic gaze over both woman and child, noting Ildiko’s numerous cuts and scrapes, the darkening bruise on her cheek, the dried blood smeared across one arm and spattered across her face and clothes. Even her hair was matted with it. By contrast, Tarawin appeared unharmed. She’d managed to free her arms, and her tiny hands reached out to Brishen, catching one of his braids as she lunged toward him.
As much as he wanted to continue holding both woman and child in his arms, the exposed space of a forest clearing wasn’t the place to do so. He hustled them into the relative protection of the trees, with Anhuset and Dendarah hemming them in on either side, acting as shields.
He shouldered his bow to free both hands and turned all his attention to his wife and daughter. Dappled patterns of shade cast Ildiko half in shadow, half in morning light, revealing and obscuring by turns the tell-tale marks of her ordeal. Brishen hugged Tarawin close and raised a trembling hand to stroke Ildiko’s tangled hair. “Woman of day,” he said. “Were you followed?”
Her strange human eyes were huge, the dark shadows beneath them hinting at her exhaustion. She shook her head. “I don’t think so. They were hard into their cups. It’s the reason I was able to grab Tarawin and run away.”
While Ildiko sported obvious injuries, any Tarawin might have had were hidden by the blanket wrapped around her. Brishen checked her first, unwinding the dusty swaddling and tossing it aside. He breathed a relieved sigh when he didn’t find any wounds, a sigh that turned to a low growl at the discovery of a small slash on her right heel. Already scabbed over, it was crimson and fresh. He glanced at Ildiko who silently watched him with an oddly intent gaze. “Who cut her?”
Ildiko paled a little. “I don’t know. She already bore the mark when I came to. None of our captors spoke, or if they did, they made sure to do it beyond my hearing so I wouldn’t learn names. I didn’t recognize any of their faces, even when they pulled back their hoods.”
Anger over Ildiko’s state already coursed through his veins like a hot river, one that started to boil at discovering proof the abductors had not hesitated to injure a defenseless child. He motioned to Dendarah to join them. The royal guard disarmed before taking the baby from him, displaying a rare smile as Tarawin went willingly into her arms with a gurgling laugh. “Check my road rations,” he said. “There’s food in there and a flask of water. She’s likely hungry and thirsty.”
“I’ll stay with them.” Anhuset still had her bow at the ready, her gaze sweeping their surroundings numerous times, pausing briefly on Ildiko. Her eyes narrowed. “We’re glad you’re returned to us, Hercegesé.” Her formal tone startled Brishen. His former second usually addressed his wife in a more casual manner.
Ildiko gave a brief nod and small smile. “Thank you, sha-Anhuset,” she said in an equally formal voice. She didn’t acknowledge Dendarah at all.
That truly surprised him. Whether or not Ildiko simmered with anger over Dendarah’s failure to protect Tarawin, she would have still asked after her well-being, asked her to relate what happened during the queen’s abduction. Ignoring her completely, except for a quick glance, was an odd thing. Ildiko’s ordeal must have been far worse than her surface wounds suggested. His rage burned even hotter. Dendarah’s mouth tightened, and while she didn’t speak, she did offer a shallow bow before walking toward Brishen’s horse, Tarawin nestled in her arms.
He carefully cupped Ildiko’s bruised and blood-spattered face, feeling the swollen softness of her skin. “I’ve failed you and Tarawin, Ildiko.”
She reached up to encircle his wrist with her fingers, the nails broken and jagged with dried blood coagulated under their tips. Her thumb glided over his knuckles, and she offered him a much wider smile than the one she’d given Anhuset. “You’ve failed at nothing, Herce…Brishen.” Her eyelids fluttered down for a moment, and her thumb pressed hard into the back of his hand. “You came for us, and we’re here now.”
He resisted the urge to crush her against him, mindful of her injuries, and settled on leaning down to capture her lips in a kiss. Just before he closed his eyes, he caught a glimpse of her expression: wide eyes and a hesitancy that was gone so swiftly, he was sure he imagined it. She turned her head at the last moment, and his kiss landed between the corner of her mouth and her jawline. Her slender shoulders were stiff under his hands until they abruptly relaxed as she sagged in his arms and pressed her face to his neck.
It was a small peculiarity, one he didn’t dwell on as he, Anhuset, and Dendarah made haste to get their precious cargo back to Saggara. They traveled back along a different path through the woodland, one that offered more safety and was easier to defend when they stopped for Ildiko to rest. Morning was fully upon them, promising a bright, sweltering day.
They stopped briefly when Ildiko complained of pain, and Brishen’s heart lurched. His wife rarely complained of any ailments. He held her close after helping her down from his horse. “I can carry you,” he said,” scowling at the sight of her bare feet, dirty and bruised. No doubt her soles were in much worse shape, and she stood gingerly, shifting from side to side to keep her weight off each foot for as long as possible.
Her expression brightened. “Thank you, Brishen. It hurts without shoes.”
“Do you need help?” Anhuset was suddenly beside them. Once more her eyes were narrowed as she studied first Ildiko, then Brishen.
Her question puzzled him. His human wife weighed as much as a feather compared to a Kai and was far more fragile. He’d have to be an invalid on his deathbed to find it a challenge to lift her. “Just keep watch, cousin.”
She nodded before stepping away, still wearing a guarded look.
He lifted Ildiko in his arms and carried her to a spot sheltered by thick low-hanging branches. Sunlight filtered down through the trees, painting the silhouettes of leaves across the forest floor and over Ildiko’s torn shift. The blood splatters on the once-white linen were crimson splotches on the dirty fabric, and Ildiko was as pale as the shift itself. He crouched down beside her. “Give me a moment to fetch you water and food.” She nodded, her hand on his arm a reassurance and reminder that the gods had smiled upon him by returning her to him. Bruised and battered, but alive.
The supplies he’d brought with him were meager. A few road rations, medicinal salves, a blanket, and of course weaponry—all hastily thrown into field satchels while he gave last instructions to Mertok before racing out of Saggara to meet up with the tracking teams. There had been no time to gather extra clothing or shoes, nor had there been any thought given it as Brishen drowned in silent fear for his wife and daughter. Until they reached Saggara, Ildiko would have to make do with his blanket to cover her from the biting flies that swarmed in summer.
After a brief exchange with Anhuset, who donated her blanket to wrap Ildiko’s feet in makeshift shoes, Brishen gathered a small armload of supplies from the satchels, and approached Dendarah as she held Tarawin in her lap. He crouched in front of the pair, smiling when the little girl held up a carved wooden toy he recognized as one of her favorites. He bowed his head to the royal guard in appreciation. Dendarah, like Anhuset, was not a motherly type. She was unmarried, had no children of her own, nor expressed any desire to pursue marriage or motherhood. She was, however, absolutely devoted to the queen regnant. In the chaos and rush of leaving Saggara and starting the hunt, she’d thought to pack one of Tarawin’s toys. A thoughtful gesture full of hope.
“Once I’ve seen to the hercegesé, I’ll return to relieve you of child-minding duties. I’ll need you again for them later, but for now, you acting alongside Anhuset as guard will serve us all best.”
She nodded. “Of course, Herceges.” A hesitant look came over her features. “I wish to apologize directly to the hercegesé for my failure in protecting her and the queen, but I don’t know the best time for it.” She glanced at where Ildiko sat propped against a tree, head leaned back, eyes closed. “Now may not be appropriate.”
Recalling Ildiko’s surprising indifference toward Dendarah, Brishen was inclined to agree. His wife’s behavior in that instant had been odd, and he chalked it up to her ordeal. Still, it wasn’t like her not to acknowledge someone, even were she seething with anger. “I agree,” he told the royal guard. “Wait until we’ve returned to Saggara, and things calm down.” He tried to reassure her. “It isn’t her way to ignore, in any circumstance, even anger. I suspect she’s in shock.” Somehow that sentence rang false in his ears and sour on his tongue.
Whether or not Dendarah believed it, she simply nodded again. “As you deem best, Herceges.”
Ildiko opened her eyes and offered him a tired smile when he returned to her bearing gifts. She ate road rations and drank the water he’d brought, remaining mostly silent while he cleaned the blood from her face and arms, and tended to her injured feet as well as the nasty slash on her arm.
“How did this happen?” he asked, holding up her arm for a closer look. The cut was shallow but long.
“I struggled with one of them while trying to take Tarawin. He cut me.”
Brishen paused from inspecting the wound. That didn’t make sense. Earlier she’d told him the guards were too drunk to notice her escape. He frowned but held his silence and returned to inspecting the wound. This was a deliberate slash carefully made, not one inflicted during a struggle. He didn’t question her more about it but kept the thought in the back of his mind.
Ildiko didn’t say anything when he checked the scratches on her neck and collarbones—marks made by a thin chain dragged across skin.
He remembered her necklace found on the drover road, now safely tucked away inside his tunic. He reached to pull it out, then paused.
Wait.
The silent, internal voice he’d always listened to in the past spoke now, a single word of…warning? Caution?
“Why the frown, Brishen?” Ildiko watched him, her own brow stitched with worry.
He lowered his hand to clasp one of her feet, inspecting it. “With Anhuset and Dendarah acting guard and other members of our hunting party not far away, we’re as safe as one can be in the middle of the forest, but I’ll feel better once we’re through Saggara’s gates.” Everything he said was true, though not what made him frown. He did his best to smooth out his expression and hide the unease rising within him, alongside the anger. Judging by her reaction—the slow relaxation of her shoulders against the tree—the salve he’d brought worked its magic in relieving the pain in her feet. He wrapped them in pieces of the blanket Anhuset had given him
“You’re acting strange,” he’d told his once second-in-command in a low voice moments earlier.
“Am I?” She’d handed him her blanket, her gaze flickering from him to Ildiko and back to him.
Her stoicism hadn’t fooled him. Something was bothering her; she just wasn’t ready to share it with him yet. “If you think we’re being followed, you need to tell me, cousin.”
That had made her scowl. “Why would I keep something like that from you, Herceges?” She’d shoved the blanket harder into his arms. “See to your wife. If I or Dendarah think we may be attacked, you’ll be the first to know.”
He bit back a sigh as he now worked to secure the blanket strips to Ildiko’s feet. They were all on edge and would remain so until they returned home. “Not nearly as good as having shoes, but at least you’ve some protection, and we’ll be on horseback most of the return trip.” He glanced at her, catching the odd intensity in her stare again as she watched him. “What can you remember about your abduction?”
She shrugged. “Very little. A maid I didn’t recognize brought tea. I grew very sleepy, and when I woke, I was in a wagon. I was insensate most of the time from whatever they made me drink. I know there were two Kai and a human cart driver. They stayed silent most of the time, though I think I recall a mention of ransom.” Her hand was pale against his sleeve, livid scratches decorating her knuckles. She squeezed his arm. “I’m sorry I don’t remember more.”
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, drifting down slowly with the intent of brushing his lips across hers. Once more, he felt a subtle shudder under his hands before she turned her face just enough that his kiss landed on her jaw.
She pulled away to offer him a tentative smile. “Do you have more to drink? I’m terribly thirsty.”
Never did Brishen think he’d recoil from his beloved wife, but in that moment, it was as if she doused him in ice water. It took all of his will not to wrench away from her as she watched him with one eye a layered white, gray, and black, and the other, a radiant, citrine yellow.