Chapter 13
thirteen
. . .
Aten
“Welcome to Nehandun,” Kalan calls as he steps off the gangplank. Crimson follows, and I’m last, stepping from the narrow wooden bridge into the small port we’ve docked in.
A few other boats are anchored, with people loading and unloading supplies.
As my feet hit solid ground, the hum of magic thickens in my blood. It’s, frustratingly, just as Kalan said—different.
Over the sea was the worst, but it didn’t stop Kalan from harassing me to practice my power, time and time again, proclaiming that I had no other choice.
There was no escaping, trapped on a ship for three days, so I listened to him.
He reminded me—often—that my gift was a poor shadow of what it should be, given who my mother is.
I didn’t rise to explore that comment. I’d have time for that later.
It did serve as added motivation, though.
Crimson offered to help me. It was strange, actively trying to infiltrate her mind, and having that oily feeling cling to me every time, like I was stepping over a barrier that I shouldn’t cross.
But the practice helped. Magic felt trapped, as if buried at the bottom of the sea, but working it, willing it, meant that I quickly got stronger.
Crimson used her training to try to keep me out, blocking her mind and shielding, but to really test myself, I’d need someone stronger and more used to mind tricks than a Warrior trainee.
Kalan didn’t offer himself up as a willing participant, but that didn’t stop me on the final day. I knew I must have improved as he didn’t berate me for doing it, unlike the first time. But I almost wished he’d stopped me.
His mind was a dark place, filled with shadows. Shadows that concealed more secrets, I’m sure. He radiated deception, like the very foundation of him was built on it, and it made me wonder how much of what he’d told us was true, or if he was keeping the truth buried like my father.
At least my father was afraid of the truth—there was a reason for his deception. There wasn’t a drop of fear in Kalan, or if he was afraid, it was too subtle or too buried for me to get a read on.
Crimson stares and seems to be taking in the sights of this new place as Kalan stalks off towards the mismatch of buildings over the makeshift square.
“You good?” I ask.
She nods and continues absorbing the sights around us. She’s never been like this before, and I get a sense of the wonder she’s feeling, like a warmth emanating from her. It feels off. Crimson isn’t one for emotion or sentiment of any kind, but she’s here for me. To help. So, I let her be.
The buildings are similar to those within The Court, only bigger and taller, and all have a familiar silhouette. There is muted colour, and trees encroach, as if they threaten to take their natural homes back from the invaders.
I look around and try to identify anyone from Kirrasia.
Plenty of Kirrians are assigned to towns and villages in Nehandun and Sunatora to help ensure people thrive and peace remains.
I guess I haven’t fully considered what that looks like until now.
That was never my path. At least, that’s what I once thought.
“Come on. We have a way to go.” Kalan beckons to us, and I nod, encouraging Crimson. She takes a look back at the small port town, as if she’s trying to remember it and commit it to memory, before she turns to me and marches off towards Kalan.
He has no horses, no additional supplies. Just what we came with.
“What’s the plan?” Despite being confined to the ship for three days, the details of what would happen when we reached Nehandun remained only for Kalan to know.
“We go to see Fenix.”
“Just like that?”
He turns and gives us a wry smile. “No, boy. Not just like that. But we’ll see.”
“You know where they are?” Crimson asks, keeping in step with me.
“Last time I checked.”
“And when was that? When was the last time you checked on Ever?” My anger lashes out in words.
“I saw Fenix six months ago.”
“And he knew about Ever? Because you told him and you’ve kept everything from her.”
“Enough with the indignation crap. You know nothing. NOTHING. So, shut up, and do what I tell you or you’ll be dead before you ever see her again.”
My hand flexes and reaches for the knife at my back, but I swallow that gut reaction. Fighting won’t help. Not yet. And not with Kalan.
A few people nod and tip their hats to Kalan as we leave along the only path from the port heading north, affirming how familiar he is with this place.
We are less than an hour on the road before Kalan ventures off the formal path. Crimson and I share a look that questions whether we can trust this man, or if he’s simply leading us into a trap, but I have to believe he has Ever’s interests at heart.
We continue as the ground hardens, and the grasses blend into a wild and rugged terrain, and we see mountains ahead. Craggy rocks and steep slopes descend into woodland.
Uninviting and inhospitable. And the perfect place to hide. My mind races to pull the advantages of the position, and the possible egress points if Crimson needs to get out and get help.
From what I remember of the maps in Father’s office, villages and towns are located in the mid and southern areas of Nehandun because of the mountain range that dominates the north.
Dardin is hidden away in the very western edge of the country, secluded and protected by rivers, forests, and the mountains.
A fortress, like The Court, in that sense.
Kalan slows when he reaches a wooded area.
The shadows of trees stretch out as if inviting us in, but the branches look sick, as if the trees are struggling, gnarled and sparsely leafed.
It’s pale and holds none of the majesty of the Variscite Forest, which is lush and green, however deadly it can be at night.
“Last chance. There is no turning back and no opting for another path. Final warning.”
“Crim?”
“Nothing’s changed for me. I doubt it has for you.”
“We’re in. Let’s go.”
“They’ll have spies from here on. They’ll know we’re heading to them. And Fenix has gone to a lot of trouble to reach this point. He won’t let us get to her without a fight.”
“I’m prepared for a fight.” I glance at Crimson because she knows just what that looks like. “We go.”
Kalan nods to both of us and then heads straight for the woods in front of us.
We breach the edge and step under the shade of the first tree, as the smell of rot and decay surrounds us.
“You’re a Natural. Why are the trees like this?” I ask as the smell intensifies as we walk farther.
Crimson raises her arm to cover her mouth and nose, and I do the same.
“You have your boundary to Kirrasia. This is a poor man’s attempt at the same, poisoning the trees to act as guards.” Kalan’s words are bitter and clipped, and I feel his emotion—his hatred—for what is happening around us, even without trying.
A mist rises from our footfalls as we tread farther into the thicket. Kalan might see this as a poor diversion, but I’m thinking it’s pretty fucking effective.
“These trees cannot talk, but they suffer. Even here, I can feel them.”
“Wha—”
Crimson knocks my shoulder and purses her lips at me, complete with a raised finger. Okay. But it’s too late. Kalan has already stopped.
“As neither of you are Naturals, you won’t understand.”
“Try us,” Crimson challenges.
Kalan pauses and looks up through the bony-limbed skeletons to the sky above.
“I’ll give you the short version. All Naturals have a strong connection to nature.
Aslendrix provides her abilities in forms that ensure protection for all.
We draw on the elements around us. The nature we live amongst, our own selves as Guards, and the ultimate defence in our Warriors.
A Natural’s power aligns us with life itself.
And we are the only ones to give a part of that back to nature when we pass.
As a Shepherd, my connection is strongest with the forest, not just in Kirrasia.
I feel them. I hear them. The trees are as ancient as Aslendrix herself.
I may not reside in Kirrasia, but that does not mean that my affinity for my gift is any less.
Because it takes place outside of our borders, it doesn’t mean that the pain to the trees here is any less abhorrent to me. ”
“Are there creatures like the Jarkoreth here? In Nehandun, I mean,” Crimson asks.
“No. They are born of Aslendrix’s magic, an essence of her, at least. Willingly gifted through the Natural Order over hundreds of years. They, with the Sur’gos, are only found in Kirrasia.”
“And do they only answer to Naturals?”
“The Jarkoreth answer to the forest. They protect the forest. But they will answer to Shepherds.”
“It answered to Ever. She raised a Jarkoreth from the dead in the trial. And then killed it.”
That serves to stop Kalan, and I assume he’s surprised by Crimson’s account. He surveys the woods around us as if weighing a decision. “Who witnessed this?”
“I watched her kill it. After it attacked my friend and took a bite at me.” Crimson holds Kalan’s stare, as if she’s daring him to argue. He doesn’t. He gives a one-syllable gruff and carries on through the trees.
“What was that about?” I whisper.
“Seems he might have some information to share. He might not be willing to give you the answers you want, but he for sure knows more than we do.” She raises her arm back over her mouth and follows.
We clear the dead wood before the afternoon sun fades and can finally breathe clean air once more. The grass has now given way to rocks and packed dirt, and the bank of mountains to the west serves as a barrier for going in any direction but north, with the coast farther to the east.
“We’ll carry on and camp outside of the next wood.”
“Don’t like the idea of sleeping in the trees, Kalan?” Crimson mocks.
“Oh, deary, it’s not me I’m worried about. Didn’t your father tell you not to stay in the forest at night?” He looks to both of us and chuckles in our faces. “Of course he did.”
I stand in the clearing, focus on my energy, and force my power out, seeking the connection to Ever again. We must be close enough now to feel something, to feel her again. But as I scream her name inside my head, I’m met with nothing but silence.
“How long after we camp?” I round on Kalan.
“In a rush, are we?”
I narrow my gaze at him and let my mind run over every single move—every step—we’ve made on the journey here. Why isn’t he more concerned? He’s meant to be looking after her, but keeping her safe doesn’t seem to be at the same level of priority for him as it is for me.
“Do you know their plan—Fenix and whoever he’s with?” I ask, changing the subject and looking for something else to focus on other than not getting to Ever.
“No. I might spend time with them, but I’m not one of them.”
“You trust them?”
“No.” Great.
“They trust you?”
“Enough.”
“Enough? That’s reassuring,” Crimson joins in.
“I said I’d take you to Nehandun. After that, there were no promises.”
Guess we can’t trust him either. “Fine. Let’s get going,” I snarl the words. The sooner we make camp, the sooner we start again.