Chapter 6
NEAR VESALA, OVENNO
Rydon’s gaze swiveled between Terena and the strange woman. Croak shuffled at his side and Rydon tightened his hold on the boy to stay his movements.
“You know who I am?” Terena asked, putting her swords away. The woman they’d been tracking, a tracker herself, lowered her arm to her belt, tucking her thumb beneath the leather.
She seemed relaxed for someone a hair’s breadth away from being gutted by a god for threatening her brother.
“I do,” the woman said, but did not elaborate.
“Then you know why we—”
“Hermes too afraid to do his own dirty work?”
Rydon scowled. He opened his mouth to give her a good dressing down when Terena laughed.
“So you know him?”
The tracker woman chuckled. With a shrug of her shoulders as she spread out her arms, she took a step closer to Terena. Rydon tensed.
“I haven’t had the pleasure, no. But if the last two mercenaries he sent were to be believed, he’s, and I quote, ‘an all-powerful god who would not demean himself to come after scum trackers himself’.
After I sent the last one back to him with one less hand, I thought he’d get the hint I do not wish to be bothered. ”
“That was you?” Rydon asked harshly.
Again, the tracker shrugged.
“I enjoy my privacy, merc. And I’ve had enough of men trying to control me.” Turning her gaze to Terena, she added, “I thought by asking for you, he’d lose interest. I didn’t know you were with him.”
“How is it you know who I am?” Terena asked.
The woman canted her head, regarding Terena for a long moment. “Let us just say, I know someone with a vested interest in your ascension.”
“What’s that mean?” Croak asked at the same time Terena asked, “Of whom do you speak?”
“But even for you, God of War,” the woman continued, “I will not bow to Hermes.”
“Why do you call me that?”
Even as the woman smiled, Rydon’s hand settled on the hilt of the sword, his grip tightening as he shifted his legs wide.
“I’m an admirer.” The woman shrugged. “Soon, everyone will know of you.”
“I am a daughter of Ares, aye, but please call me Terena. And you’ve not answered my question. I can count on one hand the number of people who know who I really am.”
“Two. Two hands.” Croak said, holding up his hands. He shrugged. “Maybe three.”
“Either way, the word is out. Especially for someone as interested in you as I’ve become.”
“What’s your interest in me?”
“It started with Metilai, as I’ve said, but when I heard Ares is your father, well… I had to meet you.”
“Why?”
“I have a proposition.”
“Here we go,” Croak muttered.
“What do you want?”
“If you promise I won’t be forced to bend the knee to Hermes, I will come with you.”
“Why now when you were so reluctant earlier?”
“I didn’t know it was you when you found me. So I’ve changed my mind.”
“In exchange for what?”
“A drink. Have one drink with me. If you still enjoy my company in the morning, I will join you.”
“Ren—”
“A drink it is, then,” Terena said, frowning at Rydon as he moved closer. She turned back to the woman and waved a hand. “And you will not bow to Hermes. I vow to you, if you come with me, you are my sword, as Rydon here is. He is—”
“I know who—and what—he is,” the tracker interrupted quietly.
The air thickened with something Rydon could not name, the hairs on his arms standing on end. Her next words almost stopped his heart.
“You’ve yet to find Sonah Yahn, I see.”
Rydon did not need to look at her to feel the tension wafting off Terena. Her voice held a note of steel in it when she spoke.
“What do you know of m—of Sonah?”
Instead of replying, the woman stared at Terena for several long, uncomfortable seconds.
Terena took a step toward her.
“Peace, Terena,” the tracker said, raising her hand in a placating gesture. “It was merely an observation. She is still in Sparta, then?”
“What do you know?” Terena asked in a deadly, soft voice.
“Speak fast,” Rydon growled, his hand flexing as he adjusted his grip on his sword. “Or you’ll leave this place without your tongue.”
“Relax, Eudaemon,” she sighed. “I’m sure Sonah Yahn wishes to be reunited with her saviors as well. But we should find her before Hermes does.”
“What?” Terena exploded, taking a giant step toward the woman, so she stood less than two feet from her. “What do you know? Stop being so fucking cryptic!”
“I apologize, goddess,” the woman said as she bowed her head in supplication. “When you’re hunted all your life because you carry—” The tracker pursed her lips before she finished. “Well, you more than anyone would know what it’s like. You learn early to guard your tongue.”
“And still she says nothing,” Croak huffed, raising his hands to tug at his hair. “Clever, this one.”
“We need clever,” Terena said, eyeing the tracker with a calculating gaze.
“That role is already filled, sis,” Croak said. “Might I suggest—”
Before he finished, the light snuffed out and they were once more shrouded in deepest black. Rydon cursed and heard Terena gasp beside him. Something whispered past him, a soft breeze fluttering across his cheek.
Mere seconds passed before a light glowed somewhere behind him and Rydon grimaced when he saw the tracker had once more moved to Croak, her left hand holding the back of his head and her right resting on his chin.
“There are many ways to be clever,” the woman crooned in Croak’s ear. The boy quaked in her arms.
Terena had her swords out, but the woman shoved Croak away with a soft chuckle. “Cleverness doesn’t only mean witty.”
Croak stumbled away as Terena scowled at the tracker. “Do you always play with your food?”
The woman winked. “Not always.”
“Was that you? With the darkness? Are you a god?”
The woman laughed. “I am no god. But aye, the dark was my doing.”
“How?”
“She’s a cypher,” Rydon snarled.
The woman inclined her head and narrowed her black-rimmed eyes. “Indeed. So,” she spread her arms. “Are we to banter all night, or may I buy you that drink now?”
Croak perked up despite the woman’s treatment. “Do you know of a place other than this shit hole?”
“Oh, my love,” the woman answered with a wicked gleam in her hazel eyes making Rydon tense. “This here is for the City Watch. It’s a performance. A trick. Come, I’ll show you the real tavern.”
Rydon traded a look with Terena, but Croak marched after the woman, clearly disregarding how she’d threatened him twice already.
Not for the first time, Rydon lamented the state of Croak’s priorities.
The tracker led them to a side door on the verge of collapse. When she held it for them, Terena paused. Croak had no such qualms as he immediately shifted sideways to squeeze through the opening. As soon as he disappeared, a faint glow illuminated the passageway.
Shrugging at their reluctance, the woman followed Croak, leaving Rydon and Terena to decide.
“We’re either going to our death or salvation,” Rydon muttered as he stalked toward the door.
“I hope there’s wine, either way,” Terena replied.
Beyond the door, a steep set of stairs led down, the passage lit by a lone torch in a sconce at the bottom. Neither the tracker nor Croak were below, only a metal door with a small hatch surrounded by large rivets.
Rydon banged on the door impatiently. The hatch slid back and a man’s dark eyes peered back at them.
“Aye?”
“Really?” Rydon scoffed. “We’re with the boy and the woman who just came through.”
“Who?”
“Don’t test my patience, scum,” Rydon growled, gripping the opening as he leaned close. “You won’t like—ow!”
The man slammed the hatch shut on Rydon’s fingers.
He yanked them back with a hiss as the door opened to reveal the woman grinning beside a laughing Croak.
The man holding the door open cast them an evil smile, his scarred face macabre in the flickering light as he gestured with a mocking bow for them to enter.
“Everyone’s a fucking jester today,” Rydon grumbled as he slammed his shoulder into the man on his way past. Terena bit her lip and ducked her head as she followed.
Sounds reached her then, a low buzz building in volume and, as they went deeper into the dark, tight corridor, they settled into a cacophony of voices, music, and laughter.
Terena moved to Rydon’s side, her mouth falling open at the scene before her. A large, open room with booths, tables and a large, circular bar in the center greeted them. Candles of all sizes dotted the room, leaving some areas in darkness.
“I’ve traveled through Ovenno before, but I’ve seen nothing like this,” Terena said to Rydon, raising her voice and pressing close to be heard over the noise.
There were so many crowded within, she worried she’d lose Croak in the crush.
She tugged at Rydon’s sleeve and moved through the bodies, weaving her way around a man whose large belly pressed uncomfortably into her back.
“Oh, you are lovely,” a rough voice growled in her ear and Terena shivered in disgust. Before she could tell him to fuck off, Rydon shoved the man in the face. Others protested in the man’s defense and Terena surged forward, itching for a fight.
As the crowd undulated back, Terena went for her swords. The tracker popped up behind the offender right then. Without a word, everyone around her backed away, creating an opening in which Terena was able to breathe in air that was not body odor and stale ale.
With a tilt of her head, the tracker motioned for them to follow and as they passed, the crowd gave them a wide berth. No longer bothered by patrons, Terena’s gaze darted around, noting the hard men and women, their stares filled with all manner of malice as Terena passed.
They moved slowly toward the back, then the woman veered to the right, where a man stood before an arched doorway. Pulling back on green velvet curtains, the tracker laid her hand on his arm as she went inside. Croak followed as if he’d known the woman all his life.
Terena didn’t notice Rydon had stopped in front of her and smacked right into his back.
When she looked up to see what had stopped him, her heart dropped to her belly.
Sitting on a plush sofa of red brocade with gold rivets, his arm stretched over the back, Xoran, Captain of the Imperial Guard of Heylisia, lifted a crystal goblet of wine and grinned.