CHAPTER 8 ALEK #2
The scraver leads us through the woods, away from the road, and I realize that the horse wouldn’t have been much help.
The woods cut right into the mountainside, and the terrain is rough, thick with underbrush in some spots, fallen trees and rocks in others.
I had mentally estimated that five miles would take us an hour and a half, but if it’s going to be like this the whole way, it’ll easily double that.
Callyn is panting beside me, and sweat has made a few tendrils of hair cling to her cheeks. “I’m glad I was wearing my training leathers when you found me.”
It’s the first thing she’s said in quite a while, and I can’t tell if she’s attempting to be friendly or if she’s simply uncomfortable with the silence between us. Before the horse spooked, she asked if I understood why she kept her magic a secret. I never got a chance to answer.
I don’t want to answer now.
But I have to say something, or my silence will be a different kind of response. “I suppose a gown would’ve made this quite challenging,” I agree.
“I’m surprised you’re willing to do this,” she says.
“Don’t worry. I’m second- guessing it with every step.”
That startles a soft laugh out of her. “You don’t second- guess anything.”
“I’m pleased to know I provide such an illusion of confidence, Callyn.”
She’s quiet for a little while after that, until I wonder if she took my sarcasm as simple fact.
But then she says, “I really didn’t mean for my magic to be a betrayal, Alek.” She pauses, and her voice goes soft. “It scares me, too. I didn’t know what to do with it.”
That makes me glance over. I’m not sure what to say. “Does anyone else know?” I finally say.
She shakes her head.
I think of the way her sister took on a sudden look of dismay when I dared to mention our outings together, and I realize that maybe Callyn hasn’t just kept this a secret from me. She’s kept it a secret from everyone. Am I the only one who does know?
That loosens something inside me for some reason. It makes it less of a betrayal. It makes her actions less calculating. Something born of fear and self- protection.
Do you understand why I couldn’t tell you?
All of a sudden, I do.
“Not even Nora?” I say, and my voice is a little quieter, a little less intense.
“No.” She takes a breath, then hesitates.
“Tell me,” I say.
“Every time I want to tell her, I think about how our parents died, and I don’t know how she’ll take it.
It’s one thing to know the king has magic, or to see Tycho use it.
” Her voice is so soft. She looks over at me.
“It’s completely different to see it in her own sister.
It’s the same reason I couldn’t tell you. ”
That tugs at my heart in a way that’s unfamiliar, and I don’t like it. “All that time we spent together,” I say. “You knew how much I hated magic, and you pretended—”
“I wasn’t pretending!” she cries, and it’s so loud and sudden in the dense forest that a flock of birds explodes out of the trees overhead.
Callyn is glaring at me. “I didn’t know I had it before.” She swipes damp hair off her cheeks. “It wasn’t until— until—”
“Until what?” I say.
“Until the battle in Briarlock. Nora was dying, and I was just . . . I was desperate.” She looks ahead, trudging through the dense foliage. “Even then, I wasn’t sure it was real. I thought maybe it was something else. The scravers, or Tycho, or even the king himself.”
“What convinced you?” I say, and I’m genuinely curious.
Her eyes narrow ruefully. “Verin.” She frowns. “She kept hurting me in the arena.”
“And you’d heal yourself,” I say, figuring it out.
“Yes.” She frowns. “But I never did anything else! I never wanted to do anything else. I knew how much you hated magic, Alek. And sometimes you can be so . . . prickly.”
“Prickly!”
Callyn gives me a look. “You know you’re prickly.”
“Callous, I’ll grant,” I say, musing. “Impatient.” My boot slips a little, finding a rock under the branches, and I swear. “Arrogant, perhaps—” “And you don’t see how all of this qualifies you as prickly ?”
That almost makes me smile. I missed her company, and I hate it. “Very well.”
My boot finds another slick rock, and the terrain suddenly takes all our focus. We huff our way up the side of the mountain until sweat slicks the inside of my clothes and I finally abandon my jacket so I can turn my sleeves back.
When Callyn glances over, she does a double take. Her eyes linger. Not long, just for a heartbeat of time, but it’s enough.
At first, my heart sparks with intrigue, and I almost smile.
But then I remember everything else between us, and the smile slips off my face. She’s turned her attention back to the mountainside anyway.
“Do you really think they might have information on the Truthbringers?” she eventually says.
“I have no idea,” I say. “But it’s possible. Scravers have a long history with the royal families of Syhl Shallow.”
Callyn snaps her head around to look at me. “They do? I didn’t know that.”
I nod, then gesture to the pendant at her neck, which is mostly hidden by her tunic and breastplate, aside from the thin cord. “Why do you think I know about the Iishellasan steel?”
“I . . . I don’t know.”
“They were once treaty bound to stay on the other side of the Frozen River,” I say.
“At first, magesmiths stayed with them, but they couldn’t withstand the cold, so they tried to settle in Syhl Shallow.
The old queen wouldn’t let them, so they migrated into Emberfall.
” I pause. “Where they clearly wreaked havoc.”
From somewhere high above, Igaa’s voice calls back to us silently. — The king of Emberfall ordered their destruction. Few survived.
Callyn turns to look at me with wide eyes. “She can hear us?” she whispers.
— Yes, magesmith. I can.
I look up and around. The scraver is well above us, her purple wings mere shadows against the sky.
She’s been flying lazy circles for over an hour, demonstrating the direction we’re to go, but never too far ahead that we lose track.
The sun at her back creates an optical illusion, because I can’t quite judge her size or distance.
If we didn’t know any better, she could be a hawk or a falcon, soaring far overhead.
If we were traveling on the road, I might glance up, but I likely wouldn’t think twice.
As soon as I have the thought, I wonder if that’s how they manage to travel across Syhl Shallow undetected. I wonder if that’s how they managed to attack the palace.
— We once gave the magesmiths our steel as a means to share our power, she says, and it’s so odd that her voice could be right beside me.
— You wield it from within, while we draw it from the wind and sky.
We were happy to share . . . for a time.
But we learned that once the magic is in your blood, it cannot be taken away.
“Can your magic be taken away?” Callyn says.
This time, she doesn’t answer. It makes me wonder if it was really the cold the magesmiths couldn’t stand— or if the scravers drove them out to begin with. I know what kind of tragedy unfolded in Emberfall, and apparently that was only caused by one.
Then again, Igaa did just say that the king of Emberfall ordered their destruction.
This all happened before I was born. Were the magesmiths really victims, chased out of their homes again and again, constantly facing persecution .
. . or were they the true monsters, stealing magic from the scravers and tormenting the citizens of two countries before they met their demise?
I inwardly scoff at the introspection. As far as I’m concerned, they’re all monsters.
But I’m struck by the realization that if I asked the queen, she’d likely say they were all victims.
I glance at Callyn and wonder what she would think. I don’t know if I’d like the answer.
We find a narrow path through the underbrush, almost stumbling onto it. Branches have been snapped, indicating we aren’t the first people to come through this way.
— You are close, Igaa says. — Nakiis is not far.
My heart skips a little in my chest, and I swallow. Until this moment, I hadn’t quite considered that we were walking into a situation where we’d be confronted by more than one scraver— one of whom is badly injured.
Callyn glances at me. “Are you afraid?” she whispers.
Yes. “Not at all,” I say.
She makes a face at me anyway. “Liar.”
— Nakiis will not harm you, Igaa says.
“Stop doing that!” Callyn calls.
— He is badly injured, she adds. — He cannot. She pauses, and a vicious tone emphasizes the voice in my head. — It would do you well to remember that I still can.
“Noted,” I say. I stride ahead, sweat gathering on my forehead.
I feel as though we’re walking straight uphill now, and after another hundred feet, we’re practically walking alongside sheer rock.
At times, the ground off to our left seems to give way completely, offering a stunning view of the valley below.
“I didn’t realize we climbed so high,” says Callyn.
“I didn’t either.” I put out a hand to steady myself— then gasp and jerk back. The stone is ice cold.
— As I said. You are close.
My palms have gone slick, and this time it has nothing to do with the heat or the exertion.
We come around a small bend in the path, and to our right is a narrow opening in the rock.
It’s barely a cave. In fact, it’s barely anything at all.
But it’s a shaded gap in the side of the mountain, full of dark shadows.
Then, without warning, one of the shadows shifts. Black eyes gleam at us from the darkness, and claws shift against the ground. I freeze, my body taking on the sudden stillness of prey caught in the gaze of a predator.
This scraver doesn’t move farther, but his eyes flick between us.
His coloring is much darker than Igaa’s, a gray so dark that he almost disappears into the shadows of the cave.
Sunlight barely pierces the dimness, but when his weight shifts, silver gleams along the feathers of his wings, and then I catch a hint of fangs.
When I inhale, I taste the bitter tang of old blood, with something sour on top.
I can’t see his injuries, but they’re clearly there.
But even lying injured on the ground, he’s terrifying. There’s a stillness to his body that promises imminent death if we come closer. An ice- cold wind whips around us, dragging dried leaves along the ground. In this heat, it should be a relief, but I know it’s this creature’s magic, so it’s not.
Wings rustle behind us as Igaa lands in the brush, trapping us here in the gap. Ice forms on the rock walls, melting almost instantly in the summer sunlight.
Beside me, Callyn’s breath trembles, just a little. I don’t know if it’s the sudden chill or if it’s fear, but I’m willing to bet it’s both. I reach out and grab her hand.
She doesn’t take her eyes off the scraver, but her body gives a little jump, as if I’ve startled her.
But then her fingers close around mine, gripping tight.
I want to offer reassurance. I won’t let them hurt you. You don’t need to be afraid. I’ll keep you safe.
But I can’t even offer that. They tore me apart the last time. Callyn had to protect me. She had to save me.
And in return, I threatened her. I drove her away.
A sudden wash of shame rolls through me— cut short when the scraver on the ground offers a low growl that seems to fill the cave. My heart stutters again.
But Igaa, behind us, says, “Spare us your threats, Nakiis. I have brought you a magesmith.”
It’s fascinating how much her spoken voice sounds like her silent one. Nakiis glances between the three of us, then speaks to our minds himself.
— Good, he says, and his silent voice is a low rumble, softer than I expect. — Let her finish me off.
Igaa scoffs. “Go,” she says. “Help him.”
Callyn shuffles forward one step, but she doesn’t let go of my hand. Nakiis hisses at her from the depths of the cave, and Callyn freezes. Her fingers clench so tight. So do mine.
“No,” Nakiis growls. “Kill me or leave. I will not be trapped by another magesmith.”
“I won’t trap you,” says Callyn, her voice breathy. “How would I even begin to—”
“Go,” the scraver says roughly, and I can tell how badly he must be injured, because there’s a weakness to his voice that steals some of the terror from the cave.
Just this much conversation seems to leave him panting heavily against the ground.
“Or kill me,” he adds, gasping between the words. “That is all you can do here.”
“I do still have my sword,” I say.
The scraver’s black eyes are opaque, barely gleaming in the limited light, but I watch as they shift to me.
— I remember you, he says to my thoughts, baring his fangs again. — You’re the one who tried to kill Tycho.
Callyn’s head whips around to face me.
But I just sigh. “Which time?”
Nakiis’s eyes fall closed. — Kill him, Igaa.
My hand finds my sword hilt, but Callyn grabs my arm, putting herself between me and Igaa.
“Would you stop it?” I say.
But the other scraver hasn’t even moved. She looks resigned. “Please,” she says to Callyn. “Help him.”
— If she is working with this man, Nakiis says, —I don’t want her help.
Igaa sighs. Callyn sighs. For two such different creatures, the sound is remarkably similar. As if realizing this at the same time, the two of them exchange a glance that I can’t interpret.
“I’m not working with Alek,” Callyn says— and there’s a tone in her voice that stings, especially when she lets go of my arm.
Nakiis’s black eyes center on her, and he growls again. “I told you to leave.”
“I know,” says Callyn. She exchanges that inscrutable glance with Igaa again, and then she moves forward, heedless of the growling. Her jaw is set, her eyes fiercely determined. “But guess what? I’m tired of men telling me what to do.”