CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
Upon Deckard and Thom’s return to camp, the troop made preparations to move out once again.
Emmaas informed them that he hoped to ride through the majority of the day, putting as much distance as possible between them and Keale.
“We’ll continue riding off the road,” he explained.
“Though our path will lead us through denser forests, our spies have developed a secure route to ensure our comings and goings remain secret. There are a handful of campsites along our route, so we’ll stop at one before heading to our final destination tomorrow morning. ”
“And where is that destination?” Deckard asked.
“Mouroc,” Isla said. “The capital of Wauld.”
“Isn’t that the most dangerous place for us to go?” Thom asked in surprise.
“No,” she said calmly. “It’s where the Alliance is headquartered within Wauld, making it the safest place you can go.”
Evylin’s eyes narrowed. “The Alliance chose to put their base of operations in the same place as the Waulden monarchy?”
Jarrad grinned. “Have you ever heard the old Auldan saying, ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer’?” he asked. “The Alliance takes that saying a bit too much to heart for my taste.”
“It helps us keep a close eye on our greatest threats,” Isla explained. “And it gives us opportunities to infiltrate the circles of the monarchy’s greatest allies. If I hadn’t come to the capital years ago, I never would have had the opportunity to work for Renaul.”
With the expectations of their destination in mind, they traveled through the thick forests toward the capital of Wauld.
Along the way, Emmaas kept his eyes on the trees.
Ethenn—eyes as keen as ever—pointed out the hidden scraps of light gray cloth tied among the branches to Deckard.
High among the boughs, each one took Deckard several tries to spot, even with the young hunter’s guidance.
The Alliance had marked out the route in such a way that only the sharpest trackers or those they’d revealed the markers to could follow.
Deckard wondered if it was by a Warrior’s design.
Exhausted from the past several days and a lost night of rest, the Ephrians and Calders remained subdued.
Still in her weakened state, Ilain had taken to riding with Isla.
Their combined weight made for an easier burden on the horses, which they switched every few hours.
Jarrad kept to their side, chatting in his strange, direct manner.
Though Auden fared better than his sister, he remained close to Emmaas, trusting the Warrior to catch him if he should prove too weak to stay upright.
At the back of the procession, Thom spoke with Evylin. Deckard had happily left them to ride alone, knowing that Thom wanted to offer his apology to her as well.
A warmth spread through Deckard that had nothing to do with his magic.
He was truly grateful for this turn of events.
While it didn’t change Thom’s past behavior, it did give Deckard the most profound hope for their future.
His brother was changing. He was growing.
And Deckard thought they stood a chance of finally attaining the relationship for which he’d always yearned.
Though Thom undoubtedly expressed all his regrets hours ago, he and Evylin still rode together, laughing and talking like they once had.
But Deckard no longer felt any prick of jealousy or concern.
Even if he and Evylin hadn’t confirmed their love, he could see it in Thom’s manner—he loved Evylin not as a woman but as a sister.
She was his friend, their relationship easy and lighthearted, and that made Deckard happier than he had any right to be under their present circumstances.
Surprisingly, Rafferty didn’t join their antics, choosing to ride in front of Deckard and Ethenn toward the middle of the pack.
The pairings suited Deckard just fine. Though Ethenn made occasional remarks, he otherwise left Deckard to his solitude.
A courtesy that was a great boon, given the state of his pounding head.
When Emmaas finally allowed them to break for the evening, he offered for their troop’s members to rest while their rescuers set up camp. Though Ilain, Auden, and Rafferty readily took the repose, the rest of them offered their help anyway.
The rocky clearing they’d stopped in was, evidently, the Alliance-procured “safe location.” Hidden in the brush was a trunk stashed in a dug-out portion of the terrae.
It held non-perishable items, such as clay jugs of fresh water, sacks of barley, and supplies for hunting, including two bows with a plentiful supply of arrows.
Thrilled, Ethenn offered to hunt, and Evylin readily volunteered to join him.
While Ethenn gathered the hunting supplies, Evylin drew Deckard aside. “Here,” she said softly, slipping her hand under the loose collar of her shirt. “I think you should keep this.”
The Night Relic hung from her grasp, its amethyst glow contrasting with the late-evening amber of the sunset.
Deckard clenched his jaw, considering. “If we’ve learned anything from our travels in Wauld, it’s that it isn’t a good idea to wear Relics for long periods,” he said cautiously.
Evylin gave him a cunning grin. “You carried it the past four days without using magic to do anything but hide it,” she noted. “I think you’ll be just fine.”
Deckard opened his mouth, then paused. Strangely, she was right, and he hadn’t considered it until she pointed it out.
Over the past weeks, since learning that he was a Mage, any time he’d held the Night Relic—which was admittedly the only Relic he’d had much contact with—he felt very little.
Though there was a perceptible emotional shift, its influence making him more coldly calculating, the rippling of power under his skin was containable.
And over the last four days, even that detachment hadn’t made him unduly violent.
It didn’t make sense. His experience was nothing at all resembling Evylin’s with the Day Relic.
Even Auden and Ilain admitted to having their feelings intensely altered by the Relics.
“I know what it’s like to hold this Relic, Jonn,” Evylin said, the chain still dangling from her fingers.
“It’s heavy, like death and resurrection all at once, fear and peace.
It inspires violence and protection, demanding action.
It changes you. I’ve felt that draw for the last several hours.
Yet, for the last four days, you remained the same. ”
Wetting his lips, Deckard stared at the gemstone. “Perhaps it’s because I’m a Night Mage.”
“Shouldn’t that make you more vulnerable to it?”
“I don’t know.”
Evylin sighed, holding the Relic closer to him. “You should carry it.”
“It’s dangerous,” he warned.
“Perhaps,” she said, then smiled. “But I trust you.”
Deckard’s muscles relaxed as he held her gaze. How long had he waited to hear her say that?
“Or maybe,” her dimples appeared as her eyes twinkled with mirth, “I just want you to let me see Hewitt again.”
Taking the Relic, Deckard couldn’t help returning her playful grin. “At the soonest opportunity,” he promised.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, then turned to accompany Ethenn into the forest.
Remaining behind, Deckard and Thom helped Emmaas, Isla, and Jarrad with the rest of the work.
In a separate hidden trunk, they found canvas shelter-halfs.
Along with the three they’d purchased on their journey, which had been affixed to their saddles when they fled Renaul’s, they pitched them at various distances around the clearing.
Deckard made sure to put his and Evylin’s as far from the others as feasible.
Not that he intended to pursue any marital advantages in an open-air tent, and certainly not around so many people.
He simply wanted to enjoy having his wife back in his arms without thinking about the observations of the eight others in their company.
Once the tents were pitched and the fire started, Deckard helped Thom and Emmaas care for the horses.
They removed their saddles, then gave them water and brushed down their coats.
When the work was done, Deckard knelt next to his saddle, checking the bags.
Everything remained. His personal items, money, and extra supplies—they were all there.
All things that didn’t matter while they’d left behind the Relics.
While he sorted and repacked his belongings, Evylin and Ethenn returned. They moved to begin cleaning their catch, Emmaas and Thom joining them.
His work completed, Deckard stood to survey the campsite. The Calders, Isla, and Jarrad sat talking while the others worked. And on the far side of the camp, Rafferty sat on a felled log, chewing on a strand of grass, his silver eyes shifting constantly from one member to the next.
With nothing left to do, Deckard joined him.
Rafferty didn’t look his way but said, “Thought you and Thommy might come back with bloodied noses this morning.”
A small grin tugged up the corner of Deckard’s lips. “So did I.”
“All’s forgiven then?”
“All’s forgiven,” he confirmed, then tipped his head closer. “Now, why are you sitting over here by yourself?”
Rafferty spat the mutilated grass back on the dirt. “I’m not by myself. You’re here.”
Deckard raised his brow at the evasive behavior.
Plucking more grass, Rafferty fidgeted with it, eyes locked on the camp. “I don’t like these Alliance people.”
Now, Deckard frowned. If Rafferty didn’t get a good feeling about people, then surely, something was off. “Why not?” he asked.
“They’re new.”
The tension that had sprung to Deckard’s shoulders immediately relaxed. “I would have thought you’d like new people, that you’d think they were entertaining.”