22. Chapter 22
Ihardly slept as I wrestled with thoughts of the possibility that Lady Simret was indeed alive, and that this wasn’t a cruel joke to make us play into Beralt’s hand.
Lady Melisanna seemed genuine in her goodbyes, and even bowed lowly to Ora in a silent pledge of her fealty.
Her mouth was silent but her eyes spoke volumes that she stood with my sister, even if her husband wasn’t fully trustworthy.
I prayed to the giants that things would change once we were back home for good.
We rode our way toward Loamil. It was the main territory where Earthen Wielders thrived, and where most of the agriculture grew and was magnified tenfold. It was another few days until we reached Dolock River, the natural divider between the Ventus Bluff and Loamil territories.
Even though Beralt was an absolute bastard, I was thankful that someone had found and tended to our horses to help them recover so we could make our next leg in our journey.
As a small token of peace, Beralt had given Ora a palomino horse that looked like the sister to my own, except hers was golden in color.
The farther we rode, the more my mind traveled back to the night of the attack at the temple and the bodies I had seen.
I kept trying to piece together whether I had seen Lady Simret and if she had indeed been amongst the casualties.
Everything had happened so fast. She wasn’t at Grianmore the day I arrived, and that had led me to assume she was dead. Sury had thought so as well.
I prayed to the giants that not only was she alive, but more importantly, that she would be on our side. The way she hated Vovias seemed legitimate, and I hoped this wasn’t another ploy against us. Against the throne.
My patience continued to run dangerously thin.
Wouldn’t it be easier to force them to kiss your boots and wipe your hands of all this? Why go through the struggle to win back your own court? They gave their oath to serve, and now it’s time to call it in.
The ink was right. The thought alone sparked outrage—we needed a break—a damn blessing of luck from Domesis.
We needed someone undeniably on our side without the need to hold the cards so carefully close only to be stabbed in the hand.
Just like everyone else, I was growing tired, and that only fueled my irritation.
“Breathe, my moon.” The rough whisper shook me out of my quiet thoughts. “I can read your mind simply by the murder in your gaze.”
I looked up into the silver eyes that rode beside me.
It had been days since our stay in Ventus Bluff, and I watched helplessly as Peiro’s brown eyes finally lost their luster and turned over to the silver.
With the brightness of the sun, they appeared almost white from how intensely they were turning.
“I’m tired of the games, Peiro. When she takes back the throne, we’re changing things.” I nod toward Ora as she and Sury lead the company side by side, lost in their own world. “I’m tired of the facade. The politics of it all is just wearing silk over steel that’s ready to draw blood.”
“There is not a doubt in my mind that you two will change the realm. I have seen royalty come and go, but you two? I have never seen a more formidable force.” A smirk played across his lips that sent my belly to tumble.
We remained quiet, allowing me the chance to reflect more.
Ora had agreed to Beralt’s terms that she would alter the lines between Ventus Bluff’s territory and that of The Melted Forge in the Shadowcraig Mountains.
Despite Sury’s objections, she had even agreed to extend Ventus Bluff north until it reached the Northern Woods.
I had seen the desperation etched in her eyes as she tried to do anything to reclaim the peace and her throne.
Fyom was strangely pale after learning of Lady Simret’s fate and barely spoke, mostly keeping to himself as he picked herbs when we stopped to camp.
As we neared the last day of our trek, he quietly led us along the road as Ora and I rode behind.
Sury and Peiro guarded our backs and continued their bickering over who hunted for what and how many rogue urthens they each claimed along our path.
Domesis had gifted us with a small band of Raiders a day into our ride.
I thought back to the guard who had yelled at Ora, blaming her for these soldiers who attacked with no clear purpose.
Peiro and Sury had handled most of them as Ora and I paired together to take down a couple of jagged-walking ones.
Once they were subdued, Fyom inspected them like he always did, remarking that most were practically the living dead.
Red lesions tore away at their flesh, and their eyes all held a vacant stare. What worried me the most were the deep black veins underneath their skin.
How can this be? Fyom would ask. What is forcing their bodies to reanimate in such a savage way?
More mystery to uncover. Aside from the red in their eyes, a common theme the Raiders seemed to share was a tiny leather band either around their necks or wrists that contained a barely glistening piece of mineral.
Peiro tensed the first time he saw such a thing and refused to touch the bands.
Every time he came across one, it appeared he fought a battle within his mind before shaking out of his reverie.
Without hesitation, I would throw the bands into a pile and burn them.
The men’s musings brought me back to the present as I overheard Peiro’s playful taunting at Sury’s expense. I laughed as I watched Sury flip Peiro a vulgar gesture just to egg him on.
“You two sound like an old married couple,” I said, and Ora giggled her agreement.
I couldn’t decide which was worse: the fact that Sury and Peiro once wanted to kill one another or the fact they now shared a bond in a game they both eagerly wanted to win—and that game was to see who could relieve the most heads from dreadful urthens’ and Black Raiders’ shoulders.
“There are worse competitions, I suppose.” Ora chuckled from my side, apparently thinking the exact same thing as me.
The Dolock River finally greeted us with its roaring currents and whitecaps.
The wooden bridge that allowed travelers to cross was dangerously being overtaken by the rushing waters.
The summer rains must have fed the current, turning it into an ugly beast that was ready to claim any victim that walked too close to its edge.
Dark clouds grew angry overhead and heavy winds ripped through the swaying trees, threatening us with a summer storm that would only make the water more dangerous.
“What do we do now?” Sury asked as he studied the bridge.
I swung off my horse, my muscles screaming in protest from the long journey, and carefully made my way to the riverbank. “Ora?” I called over my shoulder. “Care to do the honors?”
“I’ve never tried controlling this much water at one time.” The doubt was heavy in her reply.
I turned my head to look at her where she still sat on her horse and reached out. “Together?”
Ora’s eyes glowed brightly and she quickly swung off her mare before joining me at my side. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“I can’t let you have all the good ideas.” I snorted, earning the typical eye roll from her.
We grasped one another’s hands, the energy swelling beneath our palms like two storms meeting at their edge, refusing to yield, and toed the raging waters.
Where our hands connected, tingling little pinpricks dotted my skin as we respectively drew upon our Wielding to control the water and air around us.
The dive into my magic was free-flowing.
I no longer needed the same focus and could simply Wield things to be.
My free hand glowed a fine teal as I lifted it to the sky.
The sweet orbs I’d grown to adore circled around my hand like a mini vortex, almost an identical image to the ribbons in my sister’s hand.
With a flick of our wrists toward the sky, the clouds slowed their movements as the wind turned to a gentle breeze.
Next we flicked our hands toward the water as if we were caressing a fussing babe.
Finally, with a sleepy current, we crossed the bridge for a safer pass.
Once across, everything fell overly silent. No strangers passed us on the roads. There were no merchants with carts. The air around us was unusually still.
Something sharp punched underneath my chest, begging me to move forward. I swiftly pulled on the reins to stop my horse when another strange surge caused an agonizing pain, like something was dying and I felt its suffering. My magic stirred in response, the illicitus answering a distant calling.
“What is it?” Even on horseback I felt the need to crane my head up to look into Peiro’s face. Concern twisted his features.
“I don’t know. It might be nothing.” I looked around the path to see if anything was out of sorts. My Wielding thrummed harder in my body, desperate to release the illicitus. But why? I swallowed hard against the undeniable pull, determined to prove that I was in control.
“Are you hurt?” Peiro began inspecting my body for some hidden wound.
Do you really want to tell him? Is that what you want? He’ll try to control you only because he knows he’s destined to submit. He wants the power you hold for himself.
I shook away the vile whispers and hoped I could deter the conversation. “I’m okay. I just… The air. It feels…off?”
“Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
I shook my head. “I’m not hurt. Why?”
Peiro continued scanning my body as his voice dropped. “Your heart is palpitating at an off rhythm—fighting to beat.” He looked up and growled as he took my chin into his soft yet firm grip. “Your eyes. The silver has grown thicker.”
An involuntary shiver shot down my spine as another surge entered my chest, causing me to let out a sharp gasp.
“Phe?” Ora and Sury had stopped beside us. “Sister, what is it?”
I pulled out of Peiro’s grip and held out my hands, trying desperately to catch my breath. My fingers splayed wide when I felt the surge again. Something stirred against my power. Without calling on it, my Wielding flared underneath my fingertips, pulsing a light blue laced with silver.
“Something’s wrong.” I gasped again. I looked out to the distance and to the trees whose foliage appeared unseasonably dark for the summer. The ground beneath the horses held a muted tint and the air around us grew musty and stale.
Another surge pulled me forward, almost out of the saddle. Peiro hissed in pain and began to speak but was cut off by a shout in the distance.
“Hurry!” Fyom roared from ahead.
The four of us galloped as quickly as we could to where Fyom had stopped his horse, overlooking a scene from the top of the small ridge. Each of us gasped the moment everything came into view.
The pride of Loamil, which was once dressed in vast amounts of green and rich soil, was now plagued in black and engulfed in a sickly dust. The once bountiful fields of wheat, which used to remind me of golden waves, were gone.
Death.
Something had caused this land to rot and die.
At the edge of Fyom’s boots, the dulling green turned into a stale gray as if some demarcation line had been drawn.
“It can’t be!” Ora cried. “How will these people survive?”
Everyone stood still and looked out into the once promising lands of Loamil.
I grabbed onto Ora’s shoulders and pulled her in tight right as she began to weep.
A solitary tear from embitterment fell from my eyes as I looked out to the region.
Another obstacle my sister had to face for her throne.
No one had prepared either of us for something like this.