Chapter 20
I feel nothing but pure relief when I see we’re nearly out of Delchester Forest. As soon as the break in the trees comes into view, along with the sunset bathing the green pastures ahead, I quicken my pace.
Algar had a point. Delchester should have been named Deathchester instead. The swamp monster was the worst thing we faced, but eerie sounds from deep in the forest accompanied us all along the way.
None were like the false cries of help from Dulan that made me lose control of my body as I was lured in the monster’s direction, but there were whispers.
And on the left path, I heard a woman scream like she was being brutally murdered.
It sent chills up my spine but didn’t seem to affect the others as much.
I suppose the swamp monster had done them in.
Courtesy of that awful attack, it takes us closer to three hours to get completely out of the forest. My feet were killing me on the path, so I climbed onto Pearl’s back to rest them for a while.
I took turns with Algar, whose limp had become more pronounced the longer we walked.
We took one break when Rynthea complained about pain in her ribs.
Now we’re clear of that damn forest.
As soon as I feel that first sip of sunlight, I hop off Pearl’s back and jog toward the center of the grassy field.
I toss my head back to peer up at the open sky, admiring the beautiful swirls of pink and orange as well as the flat white clouds scattered throughout. A ten times better view than the dark, hovering treetops of the forest.
In the distance is a gray stone mountain flanked in greenery with an abundance of lush, leafy trees spread throughout its rocky paths. The peaks seem to touch the sky while the broad bodies of mountains run east and west for miles.
Zephra flies past me, and her transparent pink wings catch in the light as her fur and tail sway with the wind.
Rynthea staggers past. “Let’s keep going.” Her left leg is injured, too, a small gash, but she wrapped it in bandages before we continued on the middle path. “Bernwood’s gates are not too far away, and it’s best to get there before dark.”
“Don’t they lock their gates after a certain time?” Algar asks.
“Yes, to keep pests like you away,” Rynthea throws at him.
Algar snorts. “One day you’ll be kind to me, Rynthea.”
“This is me being kind to you. Now hurry up.”
I laugh as I trail behind them.
Thane is in the back, guiding Pearl again.
I haven’t spoken to him since our argument near the swamp…
if I can even call it an argument. It felt more like a scolding.
Regardless, I don’t see the point in apologizing for something I had absolutely no control over.
He knows this, too, yet it feels like he’s blaming me for every single thing.
Sure, a part of it was my fault, and I do feel terribly guilty that they were hurt, but I literally felt helpless in that moment. I was under some kind of trance, and like he said—the forest preys on the vulnerable.
I suppose that’s why he’s truly upset with me.
Because he thinks I’m this weak, pathetic mortal—the complete opposite of him and his unyielding power. I bet he’s having second thoughts about this journey, too.
I try not to let those thoughts weigh me down and enjoy this moment of walking through the knee-high grass. Even the air feels cooler and less stiff now as a sweet hint of jasmine and honeysuckle drifts past my nose. A low trickle of water sounds nearby, likely from a brook.
My mouth dries. The sound of water reminds me of how thirsty I am. Rynthea offered us individual canteens before leaving Kamtaur, but we ran out shortly after the swamp.
Eventually—and much to my relief—we reach a wall of stone.
Built into the center are two towering iron gates with the letters B and W engraved in the handles.
Four guards stand before it while two more gaze down from watchtowers on the opposite side of the wall. All are beastials of various species.
One is built like a bear. Another has green fish scales on its face but seems mostly mortal.
The beastial farthest to the right has the broad stature and fur of a gorilla, and the other has the eyes and skin of a snake.
The two in the watchtower have eyes like owls with brown feathers protruding out of vents in their silver helmets.
“Permits,” the bear beastial demands as we approach.
Rynthea digs into her rucksack to fish something out. While she does, the other guards scrutinize us. As Rynthea hands the bear her permit, he wrinkles his nose and says, “What the shadows is that smell?”
“Swamp monster,” she responds with a shrug.
The guards look at one another, disgusted. “A swamp monster?” the bear scoffs.
“Yes. Look at us.” She gestures to her filthy clothes before showing him her injured leg. “We’re hurt, covered in slime, dirty water, and monster blood, so the sooner you let us in, the quicker we can make use of the baths. Gods know I need one right now.”
The bear sniffs the air again, then turns his head away to dry-heave.
“Stop trying to smell it, then,” the gorilla grumbles to the bear.
“I can’t help it. They smell like wet shit.”
Rynthea growls, and the bear straightens his back. I stifle a laugh, which earns me a glower from the bear.
“What is the purpose of your visit?” he asks after clearing his throat.
“The Autumnal Beast Fete,” Rynthea replies.
“Are you on the guest list?”
She stacks her spine. “Ask your king.”
I frown, confused. She has to be bluffing.
The bear inclines an eyebrow beneath his silver helmet. “The king isn’t to be disturbed tonight.”
“Just tell him my name. Rynthea Kamtaur. He’ll be happy to welcome us in.”
The bear narrows his eyes at her before studying the rest of us again.
“For Orvena’s ssssake, Yelahn!” the snake guard hisses. “Jussst let them passss and we’ll deal with it insssside!” He covers his narrow nostrils with a gloved hand. “I can’t take another ssssecond of the ssssmell!”
All the guards howl with laughter at the snake’s outburst.
I sputter a laugh myself, looking from them to Algar, who’s found the situation just as comical as I have. Thane and Rynthea, however, are not tickled in the slightest.
“Fine. Go on. Ask for the king, but you’ll get nothing of it,” the bear instructs with a dismissive wave of his paw. “And I beg of you. Wash four times and then burn the clothes. You smell like you’ve been rolling in a pigsty.”
The scaly beastial hurries toward the gates, shouting for them to open it from the inside.
To my relief, the gates spread apart, creaking mildly at the hinges as they open at a snail’s pace.
As we pass through, the fish-scaled one covers his nose again, which I think is hilarious, seeing as his lineage is likely connected to the sea and, last I checked, fish don’t have a pleasant scent.
“Okay, either they’ve all been drinking, or they’re insanely bored at those gates,” Algar chortles as we stroll in.
“They’re all ridiculous,” Rynthea mutters. “Poor excuses for guards.”
As we walk deeper into the village, I have to take a moment to appreciate the beauty of this place. On the outside, the kingdom of Bernwood doesn’t appear like much, but the inside is charged with life. I have a feeling it’s because of the fete Rynthea mentioned.
Beastials of all species wander about, carrying sacks full of clothing, silk, and other materials.
Beastial children run around giggling with sticks of colorful, oversize sugar pops in hand, and in the distance is a stunning view of the ocean with half of the sun nestled beneath the horizon.
Several speedships are lined up at the ports with people carrying barrels and crates on and off.
We trek across an ivy-clad bridge arching over a river that connects the modest homes to the bustling attraction of the marketplace.
Stalls and tables overflow with silk fabrics, rare spices, and ripe fruit.
A wagon piled with red and lilac flowers is carted along the cobblestone streets, zipping right past us.
Gorgeous horses clomp along with carriages attached by breeching straps.
One of the beastials guiding a carriage tips his hat at us.
I can’t help but smile.
Deeper in the village, wooden merchant stands painted deep purple or navy blue are built between stone boutiques.
Each one has a line of eagerly waiting beastials.
A gentle breeze carries the scent of roasted meats and vegetables from a food alley.
It’s enough to make my mouth water and my stomach growl.
But the village is no competition for the towering castle in the distance. Built into the mountains and made purely of stone is a castle just as tall as the Crystal Palace in Meriva. A sundial to match is attached to a thick tower on the left.
Wow.
Bernwood is beyond gorgeous.
I’ve read many things about this kingdom. It’s where the famous alvanite stone originates. Alvanite is used to construct the sturdiest buildings, homes, and ships. Bernwood often trades it with other kingdoms, which makes this a generally wealthy settlement.
It’s why no other kingdom has ever started a war with them. Not only does Bernwood have a massive army with some of the strongest beastials in all of Thelanor, but any kingdom willing to ruin their healthy supply of alvanite stone would be foolish. Alvanite is nearly as valuable as gold.
After collecting our gear from Pearl’s saddle, we drop her off at a stable where Thane pays a stable boy for her food and water. She is worn out from the journey, just like us.
We then walk across a towering bridge with royal purple flags attached to thick posts. I notice each flag has the symbol of a black lion standing on all fours, its mouth ajar and its tail erect. Nearing the end of the bridge, I realize we’re within walking distance of the front doors of the castle.
Wait. Is Rynthea really going to try and talk to the king? Was it not a bluff?
This close, I can see silvery flecks in the stone, shimmering from the remnants of sunlight.
I imagine Analla being in complete awe of this place.
She loves castles and has always dreamed of stepping inside one.
One of her lifelong dreams is to attend a ball and dance the night away in a beautiful silk gown.
The thought of her causes a bittersweet feeling to stir in my gut. I smile at the idea of her in a gown, yet my heart aches when I think of her never being able to live out that dream if I fail.
I shove my emotions aside as we approach a set of colossal wooden doors. More beastials patrol here, well suited, heavily armed, and not looking nearly as silly as the set at the front gates.
“All of you wait here.” Rynthea drops her rucksack on the ground close to my feet. She gently places her scythesword down, too, then marches toward the guards. They stiffen when they notice her coming and tighten their grips around the handles of their spears.
Well, all but one—a female white tiger beastial whose silvery eyes lock on Rynthea as she saunters forward. Two beautiful ears spring from her head, and her fur and hair are an even mixture of white with black stripes. That same hair on her head is braided neatly and laid over her shoulder.
Her deep-purple military uniform is capped with gold at the shoulders and decorated with medals. She carries a sheathed sword at her waist with a gleaming gold hilt. Her boots make deliberate thuds as she marches across the walkway until she’s face-to-face with Rynthea.
They stare at each other for a while, eyes narrowed, heads tilting as they size each other up. Then a sharp-toothed grin spreads across the tiger’s face as she throws her hands in the air.
“Rynthea Kamtaur! It’s been far too long! I didn’t think I’d ever see you again!”
Rynthea smiles back, seeming relieved. “How are you, Sheera?”
“I’m well. I would hug you, but you smell awful and look like you’ve been dragged through the Shadow Realm.” She looks at Rynthea from head to toe. “What happened to you?”
“We were attacked by a swamp monster, and before you ask”—Rynthea throws up a hand just as Sheera is about to interrupt—“yes, I’m serious. We walked through Delchester to get here.”
“Why on Thelanor would you do that?” Sheera asks with utter disbelief.
“Quickest route. We don’t have a lot of time to spare.”
“I see.” Sheera peeks over Rynthea’s shoulder at me, then Algar, but focuses the most on Thane.
He hasn’t put his mask on since the swamp (probably because of the smell), but his swords are still strapped to his back and his buffers and dagger-lined vest are a clear indicator that he’s the fighting type.
He looks like a walking weapon. “Surely you wouldn’t have traveled through Delchester unless it was urgent.
Why are you here?” She places her attention on Rynthea again. “Is Torjack okay?”
“Yes, Torjack is fine. I’m just hoping to have a quick word with King Draedor.”
At that, Sheera stiffens, her smile lost. “The king is preparing for the fete. He has requested that he not be disturbed unless the matter is urgent.”
“I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t important, Sheera.”
The tiger shifts on her feet, studying Rynthea for several seconds. She sighs, shoulders softening. “Who are the travelers with you?”
Rynthea gestures to us. “They seek his help and insight, too.”
Sheera’s brows knit together. “Rynthea, you know that I always want to help you, but the king does not care for strangers. Especially not tonight.”
“Not even if these strangers require his help about a journey to the Temple of Elphar?”
“Elphar?” Sheera’s striking eyes expand. “Did that swamp monster eat your brain?”
“King Draedor is the only person I know who has survived The Shallows,” Rynthea goes on.
“Yes, barely!”
“He still survived, and that’s what matters.”
Sheera steps back. “It isn’t wise to pester the king with those troubling memories.”
“Just tell him I’m here. Please, Sheera?” Rynthea pleads. “He’ll make time. Plus, he owes me.”
Sheera lifts her chin. “Owes you for what?”
Rynthea crosses her arms with a smirk. “Ask him and find out.”
Okay…now I know she can’t be bluffing.