Chapter Nineteen Caspia
Nineteen
Caspia
May Daria grant you luck on your journey. Stay alive, Caspia.
Until Quentis,
Andreas
The note, written in Andreas’s neat script, was on the table beside a leather satchel. Inside was a loaf of bread, a pack of dried meat, a handful of persimmons, and a pouch filled with gold coins.
I wasn’t sure how much it was worth in Calandra, but it was likely more coin than he could afford to lose.
Beside the satchel was a new map, the lines cleaner and crisper than the one he’d originally drawn for me. He’d noted towns and cities and rivers as well as areas to avoid, like the bogs in Ozarth and the vast desert in Laine.
He must have drawn it sometime in the moon, after I’d given up waiting for him to return and fallen asleep. Then he’d snuck back into the cabin and left it all for me to find before dawn.
The cabin was empty and quiet. I took one last look around the room, grateful he was gone.
We’d had our farewell. And without him, there was no temptation to stay.
So I pulled up the hood of my cloak, covering my hair, and slung the satchel across my body. Then, before I lost my nerve, I walked out the door.
“Until Quentis.”
…
The narrow trail that led from the cabin came to a juncture with a road. In the suns that I’d spent with Andreas safe in his cabin, I’d forgotten the intense vulnerability of walking through a forest alone. Even on the road, I’d never felt more exposed.
Every few paces, I touched the knife strapped to my thigh.
The temptation to turn back made every step heavy and slow, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other, tracking the sun as it moved over the treetops in a sweeping arch.
I missed Andreas already. I missed his quiet surety and steady strength. I missed his soft smiles and resonant voice. And I already missed his cabin, almost as much as I missed Showe.
It was strange to long for a person I’d known less than a lune.
But Andreas was a man not easy to forget. I didn’t really plan to try.
This walk had given me plenty of time to think about my suns in his cabin. About my aunt. About this predicament. About where I was going.
Turah.
It was going to be a long walk.
There was a dampness to the air that made my skin feel sticky, so I stripped off my cloak and tied it around my waist. Then I bound my hair in a knot atop my head to keep the curls out of my face.
The road was narrow, only two tracks that cut through the wood with a mossy strip of green between them. I stepped over the occasional horse hoofprint in the dirt, but there was no sign of other people.
Birds chirped as they flew overhead, winging from branch to branch. I’d spotted a chipmunk earlier, skittering across a fallen log. Every few steps, I scanned the forest, searching for any sign of predators or danger.
Was this the same road that Xandra and I had been on? Would I find her paw prints in the earth? Would I stumble upon my lost pack?
I tapped my pocket, feeling Emery’s elfalter rings. At least I hadn’t lost them.
How much would they bring in Calandra? If I hired a ship to take me home, would I be able to find my way to Nelfinex? I should have paid more attention to Cap’s charts while aboard the Cirrina.
If only I could shift. Flying over this continent as a swift would make my task so much easier. But with every passing sun that the thrum of the ritus didn’t return, I lost another sliver of hope.
Maybe I’d be trapped in Calandra. Maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I was in Quentis with Andreas.
A low snarl yanked me out of my thoughts, and I slowed, sweeping my gaze left to right, right to left, searching for the source of the noise.
Don’t be a bariwolf. Please, don’t let it be a bariwolf.
I turned in a circle, my pulse racing, as another snarl carried through the trees.
When I faced forward again, a fenek stood on the road, its tusks gleaming white.
“Oh, thank the Divine.” I exhaled and pressed a hand to my pounding heart. Then I dropped to a knee, holding out a hand to the beast, palm up. “Hello, pet.”
The fenek snarled and took a step forward.
“Come here,” I cooed, waiting as it took another step.
The cinnamon fur on its throat vibrated as it snarled again. It bared its teeth, dropping its head and shoulders lower like it was going to pounce. Its ears were tucked back tight.
“Easy,” I murmured. “I won’t hurt you.”
The fenek snapped and growled, prowling closer and closer.
The hairs on my arms stood on end as I stared into its mint-green eyes.
Fenek in Nelfinex were sweet, gentle creatures and our most beloved pets. Except this animal didn’t seem interested in getting a scratch behind its furry ears. All I saw was predatory hunger and primal rage.
A chill ran down my spine as I slowly rose to my feet. “By the Divine, I vow not to hurt you.”
The fenek opened its mouth, those tusks ready to sink into my flesh.
No. This could not be happening. Those of the Starling bloodline could calm and soothe the beasts of this world. We could tame and ride. A tutor once told me I had a way with animals the likes of which she’d never seen before.
I wasn’t going to run from this creature. So I held the fenek’s gaze, refusing to cower as it snarled. “You don’t scare me, little friend.”
The beast stopped, tilting its head to the side. It lifted its ears and pointed them forward as it rose from the crouch. One swish of its bushy tail, but it was enough to give me hope that not all was lost.
“That’s better.” I smiled, dropping my shoulders from my ears as I held out my hand again.
The attack happened in a blink.
The fenek leaped toward me, jaw wide with teeth and tusks ready to tear my body to slivers.
I moved faster than I’d ever moved before, twisting to the side so the beast flew past me. It crashed into the ground with a yelp, then its claws scratched at the dirt as it regained its footing and once more came at me with a ferocity I’d only seen once.
With the bariwolves.
Once more I dodged the little beast as it jumped for me, planting both hands on its ribs and pushing it away.
My knives stayed in their sheaths. I’d made a vow not to hurt this beast. The Starling kept their vows.
I spun around and ran. My boots thudded on the dirt, and though I was somehow faster in this land than I had been in Nelfinex, I was no match for the fenek.
It snarled as it chased me down the road. With a leap, it hooked its tusks on the hem of the cloak tied around my waist, pulling hard enough to jerk me backward and nearly drag me down.
But my feet seemed to work of their own volition, stepping and spinning, as I tugged the knot free and let the cloak fall away.
It was tangled in the fenek’s tusks. While it shook and thrashed, trying to loosen the fabric, I made my break. With one arm pumping and the other holding the satchel so it didn’t bounce against my hip, I ran fast and hard.
A familiar snarl made my stomach drop. When I glanced back, the fenek was after me again.
My hand went to a knife, ripping it free.
The beast’s paws seemed to float over the ground, its lithe body moving with such fluidity and speed, it was a streak of orange against a backdrop of green.
“Stop,” I screamed as tears filled my eyes.
I didn’t want to break my vow. I didn’t want to kill this creature.
But if it meant my life, then so be it.
The growl at my heels was murderous.
I tightened my grip on my blade and turned, ready to slash the fenek’s throat.
It bounded off the ground, but before we could collide, the whistle of an arrow shot through the forest and the bolt lodged into the fenek’s heart.
The beast squealed as it slammed into the ground, landing with a sickening crack. Its legs kicked, like it was still running, even on the brink of death. Then the air puffed from its black nose and it slumped, lifeless, on the dirt.
“No.” A fenek was good fortune. Its blood should not be soaking the earth.
“Caspia!” Andreas ran through the forest, a crossbow in one hand and spare bolts in the other. The worry on his face nearly broke me in pieces.
I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came out was a sob.
He slid to a stop beside me, dropping the crossbow and bolts as his hands roamed my body, searching for injury. “Are you hurt?”
“No.” I shook my head, sucking in a ragged breath.
“Ama and Oda.” With his hand, he made a sign in the air, twin teardrops that joined over his heart. Then he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight to his chest.
Andreas had told me that gesture was called signing the Eight.
It was a show of reverence to his gods. To the Mother and Father and their children, the Six, who’d cursed Calandra with monsters.
Monsters like the fenek.
Divine, take me from this place.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“No.” I squeezed my eyes shut, not able to look at the dead fenek. “Where I come from, they are not monsters.”
They weren’t vicious or bloodthirsty. They didn’t attack or bite. They were gentle and smart and steadfast. We let children pick their favorites from every litter because the fenek were loyal companions, through life and into death.
“I had a pet fenek. His name was Helvi’op.”
“Helvi’op,” Andreas repeated in Nelfinex. “Hop?”
I nodded, clinging to him through another wave of tears.
Never in my life had I cried as often as I had since arriving in Calandra. Vexx. What a mess I’d made of this life. Of Xandra’s.
All because of a vision.
Maybe I should have listened to my aunt, done as she’d done, and forgotten all about Emery. Except I couldn’t forget.
Because if our roles were reversed, Emery would not forget about me.
I sniffled and leaned away, wiping my face dry. Then I turned my back on the dead monster and started walking down the road.
“Where is your cloak?” Andreas asked, picking up his crossbow as I sheathed my blade.
“Ruined.” Even if I could wear the garment again, I wanted nothing to do with it now.
It could stay on this road forever, lost to me like the rest of the belongings I’d brought to Calandra.
By the time I left here, this continent would have stripped me bare.
“Caspia.” He put his hand on my arm, stopping and waiting until I faced him.
The lure was too great. My gaze drifted past him to the brownish-orange body on the side of the road.
I crumpled, burying my face in both hands as a sob escaped.
“You’re okay.” Andreas hauled me into his arms, holding me close as he murmured reassurances in my hair. “It can’t hurt you now.”
On the contrary. Its very death was the reason my heart ached. But Andreas only knew these animals as monsters. To him, they were only useful if dead.
I took a moment to grieve, then stood tall. “Thank you.”
“Come on.” He took my hand. “There’s a village along the road ahead. If we keep a good pace, we’ll make it before nightfall.”
“We? You’re coming with me?”
“Yes. We’ll go together.”
I wasn’t going to argue, not after that attack. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He tucked a curl behind my ear. “I haven’t been to Turah since I was a boy. It will be an adventure.”
I blinked up at him, sure I hadn’t interpreted that correctly. “Turah? But—”
Andreas pressed a finger to my lips. “You said the women in your family have a tradition. A rite. You leave home to discover the person you’re meant to be. Well, I’m rather fond of the woman you are now. I think I’ll be rather fond of the woman you become, too.”
He spoke it all in the Beesan dialect, his “old language.” It was faultless, like he’d spent hours rehearsing exactly what to say so I wouldn’t miss a thing.
I fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him to me, taking the kiss I’d wanted for suns.
He smiled against my mouth, giving me a moment to discover the softness of his lips. Then he took control, wrapping those strong arms around me as he hauled me off the ground, my toes dangling as he kissed me until I was breathless.
I memorized the warm heat of his mouth, the softness of his lips, and the taste of his tongue. And when I swallowed his groan, the vibration trickled all the way to my toes.
When Andreas finally set me down, I was dizzy and my body felt as if it had grown wings.
Maybe I’d never shift into a swift. But with Andreas, I’d still know what it felt like to fly.
“Ready?” He clasped my hand.
“Ready.”
Together, we set off to explore Calandra.