Chapter 8 #3
Urtavia’s main streets and shops were not far from where we stood.
The Temple of Dawn was in the distance. I could just make out the rounded structure of the Katurium looming beyond.
In the opposite direction, there was a small neighborhood designated for soturion housing.
Several small apartments had been built at the end of the waterway beside us.
“If we go through the city,” I said quietly, “we have a better chance of blending in. Enough people will be out that we could disappear into the crowd. Make our way toward Elyria.” It was still early, but I knew we were just reaching that time of morning when Bamarians would be heading out to restaurants for breakfast. Most vendors would have opened their shops for business, and any street sellers would be calling people over to their tents.
Auriel placed both hands around my face, brushing loose strands of my hair back. In the chaos of our flight and fall, my hair had dried. And now, it was a huge, frizzy mess of waves and curls.
And bright fucking red in the morning sun.
“Not with the way you look right now. We need to hide your hair,” he said, already unfastening his armor and tossing it to the ground.
He unbuckled his belt next, and began unwrapping the long swath of green material folded around his waist. He tossed it to me, and I quickly tucked it into pleats beneath my belt, then drew the excess material up around my shoulders and over my hair as Auriel refastened his belt and armor.
Then he touched my arm, his fingers gently dancing over my skin, careful not to touch any part of the bandage.
I clenched my jaw, determined not to let him know how much pain I was in. Or how dizzy I was starting to feel.
“Your arm is hot,” he said. “I need to clean this properly. Check for infection.” But I pulled out of his grip.
“Not here,” I said, gritting my teeth. My skin was growing clammy. I could feel my hair sticking to the sweat on the back of my neck, and my stomach twisted again. “Not out in the open.”
Auriel frowned, ready to argue, until shadows loomed overhead. Three seraphim carriages flew right over us.
I stilled, barely daring to breathe as they passed. Canopies of leaves and branches kept us hidden for the moment, but they’d find us soon enough—especially once they located our fallen seraphim.
“Were they the same ones chasing us before?” I asked, reaching for my blade.
Auriel squinted. “I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. We have to view everyone we see as a threat now. Follow me.” Threading his fingers through mine, he ran, leading us both into the trees, as the sounds of seraphim and soturion boots hitting the ground reached us.
“That’s the one!” came a shout. “Search the carriage and perimeter. “They’re close.”
My pulse thrummed so loudly I could hear it in my ears, when suddenly, the clock tower began to sound.
But it wasn’t an hourly call. The bells were ringing out a new pattern—one I’d never heard before.
It reminded me of the bells we played for akadim—but this was different. Darker. A new kind of warning.
Auriel spotted a small clearing ahead and led me to its edge, carefully keeping us obscured between the branches of two suntrees. My chest heaved as I leaned back against one, Auriel sliding beside me.
The ringing had intensified, growing louder and louder, until they stopped abruptly.
A tree branch snapped in half not too far in the distance. Someone was coming.
Auriel didn’t hesitate. He took my hand again, urging me forward, his feet practically flying until we reached another grouping of trees.
Then he pulled me against him, just as blue sparks lit up the sky, glowing through the cracks of the leaves and branches above us.
Flattening ourselves against the trunk, I watched in horror as dozens of ashvan riders rode past. More than I’d ever seen take to the sky at once.
Every time one passed, a new one appeared until the view was nothing but the constant shimmering of blue lights.
My eyes widened, trying to make sense of it.
Not even during akadim attacks in the past had the riders been summoned in such great numbers.
For my entire life, every hour on the hour, the ashvan flew over Bamaria, looking for threats, and checking for akadim.
But it was obvious in the way the horses raced across the sky now, obvious from the sheer number that had been activated that this was a hunt. For me.
The bells started again. Once more ending abruptly, but instead of silence, their rings were replaced with a sound that made me jump. A male voice, its volume amplified to an alarming degree.
“Attention, citizens of Bamaria. This is Turion Dairen Melvik, Bamaria’s Second, acting Arkturion for Waryn Kormac.”
I stilled. Aemon’s Second, and cousin. The man who’d relished in punishing me my first day of soturion training—the bastard who’d relished in punishing me any chance he got.
What the fuck was this? I knew we had amplifying spells. They were often used in the arena or at large parades and events in the temple. But I’d never heard of one being cast out through the bell towers. I never knew we had the capabilities to project a message out to the entire country at once.
Because if we had, why had we never used it before? Why hadn’t this been a part of our protocol when there was actual danger? When there were akadim on the loose? Or when my sisters had been kidnapped? When Haleika and Leander had been—Fuck.
All this time, and they’d never bothered. Instead they’d waited to use this on me? The last person in the world to be a threat to my own people.
My hands clenched. The lives that could have been saved if this had been implemented. The wastefulness of it all!
“Do not be alarmed at what I tell you,” Dairen’s voice boomed.
“The Council of Bamaria is instituting an immediate curfew for the entire country. No one is to leave their home until further notice. All university and academy classes are canceled. Everyone must return home now. You have fifteen minutes to seek shelter indoors, or face arrest. The forsworn traitor, Lyriana Batavia, former Heir to the Arkasva, murderer of the Emperor and Lumeria’s Arkturion, is at large in Bamaria.
She was last seen in Urtavia with an unknown soturion male.
Be on the look out. Lyriana has dark brown hair that turns red in the sun, tanned skin and hazel eyes.
Her soturion companion is reported to have blond curly hair, and green eyes, wearing golden armor.
Report any sightings immediately. And, Lyriana, I know you’re out there, so listen closely.
We will find you, we will find your associates.
And you’ll wish we hadn’t. Choose now to turn yourself in and surrender.
Resist, and your consequences will be dire.
Anyone found assisting her will face the same. ”
“Auriel,” I hissed. My body felt hollow.
I knew they’d consider me a criminal and a traitor.
That they’d hunt me and my loved ones down.
But the reality of it, the nearness of it, felt completely different.
I was injured, and I didn’t even have the benefit of an energy boost from any Valalumir shards to fight back.
I wasn’t even sure I could call on Asherah again. Not anytime soon. I had hardly any energy left, and my arm was steadily becoming more and more painful with every breath I took.
“Just focus. Keep your hood up,” Auriel ordered. “And your head down. Follow me.”
“What about you?” I asked. I could try and hide my hair and face beneath my cloak, but Auriel was completely exposed. Every soturion who survived the beach had seen him. One look from them and it was over.
He frowned, then bent down on one knee before me, ripping another piece of cloth from the bottom of his cloak.
When he stood, he took my dagger once more and cut two slits into the fabric, before he placed it over his head, sliding it down across his temples.
The slits became eye holes for him to see out of.
And the remaining material covered his head, masking his curls.
He finished it off by tying the ends in the back.
There was no hint of blond, or any other way to identify him.
Except for the green eyes. And the familiar shape of his jawline.
My heart panged. It was so much harder to see him like this. Harder to not see Rhyan looking back at me.
“Ready?” he asked.
I blinked, my throat dry, then followed his lead deeper into the woods where the silver moontrees had grown together in tight clusters, the ground thick with twisted tree trunks. We raced over them, and continued on, reaching a slope in the ground that would lead us down to the Urtavian river.
I could hear boots against the ground. Someone approached.
“Hold on.” Auriel led us into a controlled run. We were moving quickly, light on our feet, but not so fast that our breathing gave us away.
Above the trees, the ashvan continued to circle over the woods, forcing us to remain in the shade when we weren’t sprinting between clearings, and leaping over bouts of uneven ground. We reached the end of the woods, where the trees were growing more sparsely. A waterway was close by.
I tugged on Auriel’s hand. “Auriel,” I hissed. “The city.”
“We need to blend in,” he said. “Pretend we’re soturi until we find a hideout.”
I shook my head. “They’ll notice us,” I pointed at his mask. “You’re not exactly blending in.”
“We need to try,” he said. Then he stilled, his shoulders tensed.
Boots stomped on dry grass only a few yards away.
“Get behind me,” he mouthed. “Now.”
We switched places, just as a soturion stepped out of the shadows, brandishing his sword. He wore the armor of Ka Batavia.
“Lyriana, I presume?” he asked. His eyebrows raised as a slow smile swam across his face. “And you must be the male companion?”
Auriel gave me one look, cursing under his breath, and ran, my blade already in his hand.
He crossed the distance, picking up his speed before bending his knees and leaping at the last moment.
Their bodies collided in midair and fell in tangles to the forest floor.
The soturion rolled on top of Auriel, landing a punch to his cheek.
I started forward, reaching for my sword, ready to jump in, when a second soturion’s hand slid across my mouth and another hand crossed my waist from behind, trapping me against him.
“Got her,” came a grunt from behind.
I started to struggle, but a third soturion stepped in front of me, a knife in his hand. He wasted no time, placing it at my throat, digging it into my skin. “Hold her tight,” he told his friend. “Get a blade out.”
I tried to squirm, but was quickly stilled by the edge of the blade. A second later, my captor replaced the knife at my throat with a fresh one. The third stepped back as he pointed his knife between my eyes.
“Lady Lyriana,” hissed the soturion behind me, his mouth right by my ear. “You must be silent and still. Or your friend dies.”
My heart thudded, my stomach twisting as I tried to decide how to get out of this.
How much time did I have to surprise the soturion holding me captive?
Could I risk slipping out of his hold, and avoiding the blade of the man before me?
I didn’t have much time—just enough to reach for my own weapons. Then I could strike.
My left arm pulsed with pain. The skin had grown tight and swollen around my bicep. My fingertips had gone completely numb. I’d only be able to fight one-handed. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was how it ended.
I began to stretch my fingers, silently moving to the hilt of my sword. But Auriel’s soldier screamed, then went silent.
The soturion before me took off along with his knife. Before I could shout out a warning, the man holding me retracted his, and spoke into my ear again, “Not a word, Lady Lyriana,” he warned. “And I won’t hurt you. I swear it. If you want to be free, stay silent.”
“And why the hell would I trust you?” I asked.
“Because,” he hissed. “You must!”
I froze. I couldn’t see his face. But something about him seemed familiar. The way he kept using my title. Still calling me lady even though I was forsworn, and the way he— Gods! The way he said my name. He’d spoken with a lilt, adding an extra syllable to Lyriana just like Rhyan did.
He was Glemarian.
“Wait here. Don’t run. Not yet. They’re everywhere,” he ordered, racing into the brawl.
His friend hauled Auriel to his feet, his blade to his neck, drawing blood.
“Got him?” asked the Glemarian. “This the blond they mentioned?”
“One way to find out.” The soldier reached for Auriel’s mask.
“Wait,” said the Glemarian, his eyes meeting Auriel’s intently. Then he turned to his companion. “Give me your vadati, I’ll call it in. Let the turion know we have them.”
The soturion’s eyes narrowed, but he held his hand out, a clear white stone in it.
The Glemarian looked back at me, only a small flash of light in his eyes. A warning.
It was at that moment that the soturion saw me: armed with my sword, and unbound. His face reddened. “You didn’t tie her up? The fuck are you—?”
The Glemarian brandished his sword, and thrust, his entire body poised for attack.
My mouth fell open in a silent scream for Auriel. But instead he stabbed his companion, gutting him, and let him fall to the ground. He stabbed once more, ensuring he was dead. Then the Glemarian raced to Auriel, both hands on his shoulders, shaking him.
“Rhyan?” he asked. “Rhyan?”
Auriel’s lips were drawn tightly together, and he shook his head. “No. I’m so sorry. I’m not Rhyan.”
“Don’t play with me,” the Glemarian seethed.
“I swear. I’m not him.” He pressed a fist to his chest. “I swear.”
The Glemarian’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “But you …” He craned his neck, trying to get a closer look. “You look like—your eyes and you’re—you’re not? Are you sure? Please! I heard about the sentencing, the stripping, and the attack, but no news of the outcome. I was hoping—praying that—”
Auriel shook his head. “I wish I was. But I’m not Rhyan.”
“Fuck!” The Glemarian pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, like he was pushing back tears. “Are you a friend?” he asked, a kind of desperation coating the lilt of his words. “Of his? Of Lady Lyriana’s?”
“That I am,” Auriel said. “Very much so. Of both.”
There were shouts from nearby. Too many voices to track. But they were close. If we didn’t run now, we’d be seen.
The Glemarian took a deep breath and gestured. “Follow me then. Now. Hurry.” At last, he pulled back his hood, revealing pale, northern skin, familiar dark brown curls peppered with flecks of grey, and soft, forest green eyes.
It was Rhyan’s uncle. Sean.