Chapter Eight
B ending low over the horse’s neck, Jem clutched her mane and squinted in the dusty wind.
His lungs barely seemed to work, and he reminded himself he could breathe and see, that there was no rough sack over his head, that he wasn’t slung helplessly over a thundering horse bearing him away to the Cliffs of Glaw.
He could admit he was very glad of Cador’s thick arm locked around his middle as they raced from the Holy Place.
Though he didn’t fear horses the way he once had, his heart still felt like it would burst through his chest. This gallop was a far cry from tentatively trotting around on sweet, gentle Nessa on Ergh.
Memories of bouncing painfully across a horse’s back and that horrible sack suffocating him persisted. The ground seemed very far beneath them, a dark maw that reminded him of the plunge from the Cliffs of Glaw.
It’s not the Askorn Sea. If I fall, it’s only grass and dirt. It’s not that far.
Still, he choked down a whimper and prayed to the fickle gods not to let him fall. Prayed that Cador’s strong arm around him would not falter, allowing himself to be grateful Cador was there with him.
He had no idea if they were going the right way, but escaping the soldiers of King Perran’s personal guard was certainly the priority. Even if he fervently wished they could slow down. The air was gritty on his tongue, that hint of distant smoke inflaming his throat.
When Cador steered them into the woods, Jem almost couldn’t watch, convinced they were about to run headlong into one of the broad maples.
Yet Cador guided their mount expertly, the horse weaving nimbly through the forest. Jem couldn’t see back beyond Cador’s bulk if Treeve had been able to follow, but he hoped so.
Gods, what a welcome home, and it was still at least two days’ journey to the castle. Possibly three or even more. He had no idea what to expect at this point.
He wasn’t sure how long they’d raced before he realized the thumping that filled his ears was his own heart, not pursuers. Cador eased up, a deep “Whoa,” rumbling from him. He kept his left arm firm around Jem as he reined in their mount completely and turned her the way they’d come.
For a moment in the darkness, the trees blocking most of the moonlight, there was only the hoot of an owl and cicadas chorusing. Then hoof beats, but only a single rider by the sounds of it. Jem exhaled in a rush as the dark figure resolved into Treeve reining in his horse.
“Good thinking coming in here,” Treeve said. “We lost them.”
“What the fuck happened?” Cador demanded.
“Turns out one of the clerics does think this hot summer is the gods punishing us and that Ergh is to blame. The old bitch told my father you’re here and that I came ahead to warn them about his delusions. He wasn’t best pleased.”
Jem blinked in shock at the language. The woman was still a cleric, after all. Some of his distaste must have shown on his face since Treeve winced.
“Forgive me. I’m sure the woman is genuine in her belief.”
“Forget her,” Cador snapped. “What of your father? And why should we trust you?”
Jem grasped Cador’s wrist. “Please. If Treeve was doing his father’s bidding, why would he have helped us escape?”
Cador muttered something that was probably profanity.
“I understand your suspicion,” Treeve said. “If you want to go east to find your people and take the longer route south, I can escort Jem to the castle myself.”
Arm tightening around Jem, Cador practically growled. “No. My sister will protect my people. I have faith in her. She will get them to Neuvella safely.”
Treeve’s mouth drew down as he sighed heavily. “I’ve never seen Father so furious. His moods are often black, but I fear he actually believes the gods are punishing us for welcoming Ergh into the fold. If that sentiment grows…”
If it spread, they’d have fires of a different kind to douse. The people of Ergh were safe for a moment, but what if the king took his battle to Ergh’s shores? And they needed the sevels. They needed Onan.
Treeve glanced around. “I must get moving. I don’t think my father’s guard will venture any farther—he’ll be left too unprotected. I’ll wait until morning and his temper has cooled before I return to reason with him.”
“Reason with him? He sent his guards after you.”
Treeve laughed thinly. “Oh, my father has thrown me in the dungeon more than once in a fit of anger. I’m accustomed to it.
So long as I’m his only heir, I’ll be perfectly safe, I assure you.
And for you, Jem, I wish safe travels to Neuvella.
” He nodded to the sack Jem clutched. “Should be enough food and water for a day or two.”
Jem looked inside, glad to find bread and cheese and fruit. Even a few sevels, which felt more precious than ever. Also two large leather wine skins, which were certainly more practical than glass.
Jem flushed, still angry with himself for dropping the flask. His heel throbbed. “Uh, yes,” he said, trying to focus. “Stay safe. Thank you again. Oh, er, do you know which way is south?”
Treeve pointed. “Please tell your mother we must come together for the good of Onan.” With a final nod, he spurred his horse and disappeared.
With a loud exhale, Cador clucked his tongue and turned their horse to walk in the direction Treeve had pointed.
Jem sat straight, not wanting to lean back against Cador.
Still, he didn’t object to Cador’s arm around him, and his mind chewed over Treeve’s ridiculous, puzzling words from the day before.
A winning match.
Jem certainly didn’t feel like the victor.
Cador seemed content to let the horse walk for a time, though content in nothing else. He was like a wall of tension, his arm still iron around Jem’s waist. He had to admit his relief that Cador was with him. If he’d had to navigate the forest alone—let alone that pitch-black tunnel…
Jem should be glad of the silence, but as it stretched out, his anxiety only grew.
There was no reason for him to break it.
What did he have to say to Cador? Nothing.
They were stuck together for the moment, but there was no need to speak.
In two days time, they’d finally reach the castle, and Cador would be locked away in the dungeon with Kenver. Delen would join them later.
That thought had been a bitter reassurance during the voyage across the Askorn Sea.
Jem had never thought anything so resentful and sour could be a comfort.
He hated that it was. But as he grasped now for the welcoming weight of it, he found tears pricking his eyes instead.
He cursed himself. This was no time for sadness. He must stay angry.
“Do you trust him?”
Ah, there. Jem gratefully seized upon Cador’s question. “Of course.” It was an exaggeration, yet he couldn’t resist.
On cue, Cador grunted. “Why? You said yourself you barely know him.”
“I know enough. He helped us escape his father.”
“I know he lied about who he was when I met him. Why the fuck should we believe a liar?”
Jem bit out, “You say that as if you’re not a liar too.”
No reply—only a warm huff of breath on the back of Jem’s neck.
“What, no response? No plea of innocence? Come on.”
When he spoke, Cador’s voice was soft and calm. “What’s the point? I’m not innocent. We’ll only waste our breath. It’s not my innocence I want you to believe.”
Jem opened his mouth but found he had no reply. Cador spurred the horse into a trot, then a run, and Jem held on, wishing he had the faintest idea of what he should believe.
*
An hour past dawn, Jem had to admit the heat was already oppressive. They’d found a trail through the forest, stopping only to rest the horse that Cador called Dybri. Jem was careful to only sip water from one of the wine skins.
Leaning past Jem, Cador rubbed Dybri’s neck, murmuring to her as he did every so often. “It’s all right, girl. We’ll stop soon.” His breath tickled Jem’s ear.
Jem almost argued that they had to keep going, but he was only being peevish and ridiculous. As wonderful as it would be to finally get home—oh, to dive into his lake—it was only sensible to rest during the day as the heat compounded.
At least he didn’t see any unnaturally orange sky through the trees, and no ash or smoke drifted on what little breeze lifted the brown-tipped leaves.
“What villages lie this way?”
It took a moment for Jem to realize Cador wasn’t speaking to the horse this time. “I don’t know.”
“Who will we encounter on this trail?”
“I have no idea.”
“Shouldn’t we have seen someone by now?”
He gritted his teeth. “I told you I don’t know.”
“Can’t you guess?”
Jem made a show of gazing around at the forest. “Well, I suppose a marauding woodsman with his mighty ax might come along.”
“I wasn’t speaking of your boyish fantasies.”
Spine stiffening, Jem squawked. “Nor was I!”
Dybri snorted and stamped, and Jem felt chastened. By the horse. He clamped his jaw shut as she stubbornly veered off the path despite Cador’s attempts to stop her. Jem made sure to keep an eye out to make sure he knew which direction they were going in.
Dybri’s destination was a pond at the base of a rocky outcropping that was apparently shaded enough from the sun to still hold murky water. Jem swatted at flies. “Should she drink that?”
“Haven’t seen another option.” Cador jumped down and reached up for Jem.
“I can get down myself!” He swatted Cador’s hands now, giving up on the flies. He hadn’t protested in the night when Cador had lifted him down, but now he could see the ground clearly.
Cador raised his hands in surrender.
Face burning, Jem handed him the sack. He wriggled sideways onto his belly and hopped down—pain stabbing through his heel before he toppled back onto his arse in the dry leaves and dirt.
It was barely a moment before Cador crouched by his side, one big hand resting on Jem’s back, the other reaching for his foot.