Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
DESS AND THRAN RETURNED SOMETIME IN THE LATE MORNING. Thran carried a lumpy sack over one shoulder filled with what Thia presumed was food, Mavrel happily perched on the other. Dess spread a map of thick vellum across the grass, its compass rose inlaid with gold.
Thia tossed him a wary look. “We aren’t going to have to flee the Huckleton authorities, are we?”
He only grinned. “Relax, mother. Dess was a good little boy and was very stealthy. That reminds me.” He sprung to his feet and pulled something out of his jerkin. “For you.” It was a small leather pouch; he spilled the contents onto his palm as he held it out for her to see.
An emerald bead, stunningly crafted with spiraling edges that caught the sunlight. She thought she should reprimand him for stealing, for risking their safety over a trinket, but he was smiling so expectantly that she couldn’t. “Thank you.”
“Girls wear them in the hair,” he explained, seeming pleased. “Here, let me show you.” Before she could respond, he reached out and pulled a tendril of hair from behind her ear, expertly plaiting it.
She smiled, the thin braid tickling her cheek as he made his way to the end. “Your skills are impeccable.”
“Sorscha taught me. She said it was necessary if I was going to help her watch the little ones at camp. I told her that I never helped her with the little ones, so it didn’t matter. Then she informed me that I did now.”
“That sounds like Sorscha.” She caught Oskaren’s eye where the girl stood on the other side of the map, watching the exchange. She wondered how the girl felt about sharing her mother.
What is he then? Your enemy?
If that’s how he feels, good.
It was like…she wanted Dess to hate her. Not that she hated him, or was unfeeling.
Dess finished the braid with a little tug. “Hand me the bead.”
She did, and he slipped it onto the end of her hair. Then he pulled two little golden clasps from the pouch and slipped them on either side of the bead, locking it all in place.
He stepped back, admiring his work. “You look just like any Eldrisian.”
Oskaren’s attention flicked to the bead and back to Thia.
She absent-mindedly wondered how the girl would suit one in her own chin-length hair, as she pushed it off her face yet again, and why she didn’t wear one already if it was custom.
She would look good with it, perhaps on one of the tendrils around her neck, just behind her ear, that never quite stayed in her short ponytail.
The girl’s lips twitched, and Thia coughed, suddenly terrified her thoughts were all over her face. “The map,” she said. “Shall we pick a route?”
“Let’s.” Dess steered her closer to where it was spread across the ground, beckoning Thran and Oskaren forward as well.
Thia’s first thought, as she surveyed the loops and swirls of ink, was that Eldris was huge. The journey they’d already taken was only a fraction of the greater land, and this map wasn’t even showing what she gathered was the rest of a continent, as the left side ended with Black Forest.
Dess was looking at Oskaren, not the map. “I assume there’s a shortcut.”
Oskaren only sucked on her teeth, offering no reply.
Thia didn’t see the problem. Judging by the distance they’d traveled, the girl’s projection of two weeks should take them to the sea, through what appeared to be a large stretch of land marked Losrohiria.
“What?” she asked.
Thran answered. “The borders of Losrohiria are sealed,” he commented. “The Losrohir retreated when the Mage King began his conquest, and they don’t take kindly to strangers. To enter their lands would be to invite certain death.”
Thia bit her lip. “So we go around?”
Dess rubbed the back of his neck. “That would take months.”
They didn’t have months.
Oskaren still didn’t offer a solution. Dess said, “We could try the river?” He traced a finger over the map.
There was a waterway etched into the vellum, flowing from mountains north of Huckleton, but it mysteriously disappeared at the edge of Losrohiria, perhaps because no one had been able to chart it.
It was a good assumption that the river would eventually flow to the sea.
“We won’t actually be touching their land if we’re on water. ”
Oskaren shrugged. “I doubt the Losrohir will see it that way. They are as one with the earth as that tree.” She jutted her chin in the direction of the closest trunk.
“So then what do you propose?” Thia asked.
Oskaren raised her chin. Perhaps realizing the others were nearing their wits’ end, she said, “We’ll take the Vale.”
Dess’s breath sharpened. “I thought that was a myth.”
Oskaren didn’t seem amused, and that more than anything scared Thia. “It’s not,” she said quietly. “It is the only place they permit outsiders to pass.” She paused. “If they’re feeling generous, that is.”
Dess shook his head. “This is not a good idea.”
Oskaren cocked her head tauntingly. “You have a better one?”
Dess ignored her. “If they decide they aren’t feeling generous?”
Thran brushed a hand over the map. “If the stories are true, the Vale is bordered by impenetrable trees and steep cliffs. We’ll have no way to flee.”
“A boat on the river won’t save us,” Oskaren insisted. “They will cause the water to rise up and drown us before we’ve even realized what has happened.”
Dess’s fists clenched. “That won’t—”
“Hey,” Thia said, trying to stave off what she sensed was a brewing argument.
“But if the Vale—”
“It’s our only option.”
“Hey,” she tried again, a little louder.
“According to you.”
“Do you want to die?”
“Enough!” she barked. Maybe it was because she was usually amiable, but they fell silent, surprised into obedience.
She sighed, suddenly weary. “Look, Dess,” she started.
“I know you know what you’re doing. But Oskaren is the only one that’s actually been to Xercae’s lair.
We have to trust her on this.” She glanced at Oskaren, nervous to find the girl already watching her.
“And she needs me alive with a witch’s head in my hands to get her vengeance. She has no reason to lead us wrong.”
Dess still seemed uncertain. “Fine,” he said, when Thia didn’t relent. He glared at Oskaren. “So where is the Vale then?”
Oskaren crossed her arms. “I’m not sensing any trust.”
“Don’t start,” Thia cautioned.
To her surprise, Thran backed up a step. “We have bigger concerns,” he said, voice wavering. “We’re being attacked.”
As Thia registered the words, the first arrow flew.