Chapter 24
HOW ALL NORSE CHILDREN ARE TAUGHT
Arioch
An awareness yanked at my consciousness, dragging me from a deep sleep. Daylight streamed in from the window, revealing a cream-colored room. The air smelled foreign, and my feet hung off the end of the inn’s too-short bed. Electricity hummed as cool air wafted out of vents near the ceiling.
I was safe. We had made it to Al Mukalla last night and secured safe lodging to sleep off the portal fatigue.
Nothing seemed amiss, yet something had woken me.
The artifact. It tugged on my awareness, silently questioning the worthiness of my bloodline as it steadily moved away.
I bolted upright, relieved at the restored magic flooding my veins when I summoned my trousers, sword, and bag and hurried out of the room to pound on the next door.
Within moments, Tyrin threw open the door, half-dressed, axe in hand. His wild gaze searched the hallway for threats before settling back on me. “What troubles you, m’lord?”
“The artifact is on the move.”
His eyes darkened with understanding, and he nodded. “I will be ready to travel momentarily.”
Leaving Tyrin to prepare, I crossed the hall and knocked on Jameson’s door.
Silence.
I knocked again, regretting that I had not secured a second key. Tyrin appeared by my side, concern etched into his weathered features at the slow and labored shuffling sounds that came from within the room.
When the door opened, Jameson was barely upright.
He sagged against the frame. The robe provided by the innkeeper’s son hung off him like a sail on a broken mast, unable to conceal the damage beneath.
Bruises mottled his left cheek and throat, disappearing past his collar with the promise of more.
A scab bisected his right eyebrow, and the hollows of his face demanded more food and sleep.
He blinked at me, then at the hallway, then back at me. “Lord Arioch.” His voice was weak with exhaustion. “We’re safe, right?”
“We are.”
His brow furrowed. “Is everything okay? Is it time to go? Give me a min, and I…” He pushed away from the door, and his legs wobbled.
“Easy.” I reached out and steadied him by one bony elbow.
The brownie who had treated his injuries warned us that the magical salve would sap his energy to fight infection and heal, but the results were far more severe than I had expected.
Reality settled like lead in my gut. He was in no condition to keep pace, and every moment I delayed, the artifact moved farther from my reach.
The memories of my ancestors had taught me that some difficult decisions were necessary, and I recognized this one as unavoidable.
“Tyrin and I must leave for a time.”
Tyrin tensed beside me, the corners of his lips pulling tight. He did not wish to leave the boy. Neither did I, but it was the only option.
“You will remain here to recover,” I hurried to add. “Rest and heal so that you might accompany us upon our return.”
He swallowed. “You’re… leaving me behind?”
“Only temporarily.”
“But you promised. You said if I came with you, you’d protect me.”
“And I shall. The innkeeper will be paid handsomely to watch over you in our absence. You will be provided with meals and lodging. See that you eat properly and regain your strength.”
“But I… I can help. I’m powerful.” He held out a hand, and electricity sparked across his fingertips before promptly fizzling out.
“You are exhausted. We will need to move quickly, and I fear you will not be able to keep up.”
“I can.” He straightened, jaw clenched. “I’m fine. Stronger than I look.” Sweat beaded across his worryingly pale forehead, betraying the lie.
“Be that as it may, you will need to be fully recovered for our trip home.”
Something akin to yearning flickered within his gaze at the word, causing me to wonder how long it had been since he had a proper dwelling.
“And what if you don’t come back?” he asked, anxiety thick in his voice.
Failure was not an option, yet there was wisdom in forming a contingency plan.
I released his elbow, lifting my hands to hover on either side of his head. “May I show you the way to my manor?”
His eyes flickered back and forth between my hands, and he leaned away with obvious distrust. “Like on a map?”
“I have no map, but if you will allow me to touch your head, I can show you the directions.”
“How?”
“It is not easily explained.”
He glanced at Tyrin.
Irritation rippled through me. “If my intention was to harm you, surely you would be dead by now.”
The boy took a deep breath and nodded. “Okay.”
Resting my hands on his temples, I imagined the way home from the Seattle portal station as I had seen in my grandsire’s memories.
I showed him which exit to take off the freeway, then the dirt road that would lead to my land.
Then I gave him a glimpse of the manor and the staff.
When I released Jameson, his eyes were full of awe.
“You live in a castle,” he said. “With all kinds of creatures.”
“An enchanted manor,” I corrected. “And my people will not hurt you.” Opening my satchel, I withdrew ample funds for the trip and handed them to the boy.
“I shall pay to extend your stay for two nights. If we are not back after the second night, teleport to Seattle and travel to the hedge surrounding my estate. Do not attempt to cross it. Instead, simply shout for Catori.” Using the materials provided on the nightstand, I penned a note for the dryad and handed it over.
“Give her this, and she will take you to Leander.”
“Is Leander your dad?”
“No, he is my blacksmith. A minotaur.”
Jameson’s eyes grew impossibly wider. “One of the bull people?”
“Precisely. If we fail to return after the second night, Leander will take care of you.”
The boy hesitated, doubtlessly wanting to argue, but he could barely stand. He had to recognize the futility of insisting on accompanying us. “Okay,” he said finally.
Reminding him to stay in his room and lock the door, Tyrin and I made our way downstairs, where the innkeeper greeted us. I approached his desk and made the accommodation for Jameson.
“The boy has been through much,” I said, eyeing the jinn. “It would greatly upset me should anything happen to him.”
“This inn is protected by the Peace Council.”
I added more silver to the pile. “Understood. However, he may require additional attention.”
The innkeeper scooped up the silver and tucked it into his money pouch. “I will keep an eye on him.”
Tyrin stepped up beside me, sliding another piece of silver onto the countertop before pointing to the racks on the wall behind the jinn. “I would like to purchase one of your maps.”
It was afternoon, and the temperature was sweltering by the time Tyrin and I left the inn.
Sand still floated in the air, making our shemaghs necessary.
We stopped at a food cart long enough to purchase two orders of spiced fish with rice, vegetables, and bread before following the pull of the artifact to the southeast.
I longed to shift and fly to our destination, but the buildings were far too close together to accommodate my dragon form.
Instead, we broke into an easy run that ate up the miles.
The massive buildings—stacked nearly on top of one another—grew increasingly dilapidated the further we raced from the city center.
The terrain opened onto a coastal highway, and for the first time since we’d left the inn, I could breathe without inhaling sand. The road hugged the sea, offering an unobstructed view of the port ahead and, more importantly, enough space to shift.
I did not.
We were closing in on the artifact. Its pull sharpened with every step, and I intended to assess the situation before revealing myself.
An enormous black dragon against a cloudless sky was not easily overlooked, and the element of surprise was worth more than the comfort of my true form.
Besides, Ziara knew what I was capable of.
When the time came, the little thief would surrender the moment she laid eyes on me, sparing us all an unnecessary confrontation.
At least, that was what I told myself as I wiped the sweat from my brow and scraped sand from places it had no right to be.
In the distance, a coal-black galleon cut through the water, heading for the port ahead, sailing impossibly fast for such a large vessel with no wind in its sails.
Following its trajectory to the dock stretching out over the water, I spotted four figures waiting in precisely the direction from which the artifact tugged at me.
The wolves! I thought to Tyrin, unwilling to waste the oxygen required to speak aloud.
He followed my extended finger and realized what was happening. We both sped up.
Fire glowed from the galleon’s eyes and mouth. The metal ribcage and deadly naval ram marked it as a formidable vessel made for battle, but I required a proper look at its crew.
By the time Tyrin and I had navigated the haphazard mess of shipping containers to reach the dock, the galleon was pulling away. My gaze immediately shot to the unfamiliar race of people on the deck, and I started counting.
“Do you know what they are?” I asked Tyrin.
“No, m’lord. But I count twelve. Wait. Thirteen.”
One caught us watching and grinned, turning to give me a good view of the cutlass at his waist. They were all similarly armed.
A sneeze drew my attention to the porthole of a lower cabin, where a familiar face framed in fiery red hair stared back at me. The panic in Ziara’s eyes was delicious, assuring me of her surrender.
A smile tugged at my lips.
She disappeared from view, and a male pressed in, pulling her up beside him with the easy posture of someone comfortable in her space. He looked at her the way Tyrin looked at Frode, and something unpleasant coiled in my chest.