Chapter 12
Alora
We rode through the early morning hours, until the dawn filtered in through the canopy of the forest.
I really, really needed to sleep, but with the chaos we left in Astoria it was best to get as far away as possible, especially with what we had in tow.
The ache of my neck and burning of my throat was a constant reminder of what we’re running from.
The touch of the braided twine was more daunting than I had been prepared for.
Nothing could compare to the strangled cries that hadn’t been able to form when I was hanging there, or the ones that still threatened to bubble their way up in a moment of weakness.
I swallow, blinking away any tears that formed and focused on what troubles we were in now.
The sour—faced male currently walked behind Caym’s horse, tied by rope that was twisted with the same element culling bands were made of. To be sure he couldn’t escape or wield any magic, more of the iron manacles were clasped to his wrists and ankles.
The Meiner River had led the way for our escape. Riding in the creek bed to avoid any traces of our trail being left behind has resulted in my boots and woolen stockings being soaked through.
I was feeling the chill of the waters so I can’t imagine how the bastard felt.
I turn in my saddle to peer back at him. “So, Devourer, do you care to tell me exactly what the king knows about The Hidden?”
He just stares at me blankly, his hair drenched and stuck to his forehead.
Dark circles have etched their way into his bronzed skin, making him look more villainous.
I wait a few moments, anticipating a retort, before I turn to face forward again.
Silence. That’s all that he has offered us since we began our journey.
I can’t say I blame him honestly, if I had been forced to trudge through muck and the freezing waters of the Miener, I’d be a little peeved as well.
Dahla snorts, steam billowing from her nose.
The frosty air turns colder as we make our way eastward, nearing the Siltar Woods.
The spirits of those woods roamed, vengeful and malicious, while also playing tricks on the mind at times. Unfortunately they were the one barrier between us and Rivers End, our destination.
The cave city has been a fortress for centuries for anyone who dares trespass the Siltar Woods and can manage the labyrinth to get inside.
We didn’t use our magic to restrain The Devourer. With the daunting journey, the risk of depleting someone’s essence wasn’t worth it.
If it were up to me, I would have chosen the easier route, tie him up and throw him over a pack mule. I can’t help but smirk at the thought of him being tied up and helpless.
A sudden splash has most everyone spinning around to check the source of the commotion.
The Devourer is on his belly, submerged to his shoulders, making his dingy white shirt cling to his body.
I pull the reins, halting Dahla. Caym continues to let his horse walk on.
The Devourer fights to get back on his feet, tripping over a rock in the process and returning to the cool water again, this time face going under for a moment.
Panic starts to eat at me, followed by confusion.
“Caym, enough. Let him get to his feet.”
Caym stops after a few steps. He looks at me, his eyes rolling until I can only see the whites. He clenches his jaw and waits for me to start talking again.
I look back to the man who’s practically drowning at this point and slide my gaze back to Caym.
“We’ve made a lot of headway under the night cover, we’re all tired. Let’s just break camp here.” My voice practically croaks with exhaustion.
“I’m not tired, I’m absolutely willing to continue especially if it means that man can drag behind me until his arms separate from his body.” Caym stares at me wide eyed, his annoyance turning into bemusement as he quirks a brow.
My face falls flat. A nice soft bed with buttery sheets would be a blessing, but the scratchy bedroll in my saddle bag sounds just as lovely right now.
The words fly from my mouth like a lashing, “Fine, I’m tired. Cranky. Hungry. And my ass is sore. I need a break.”
The fucker has the audacity to smirk—to actually smirk.
With laughter coating his tongue he quips, “I never thought I’d hear those words in my life, oh noble leader.”
Leeson lets out a bellow of laughter that almost has her toppling off her horse.
“You two are such children.” I may pretend to be annoyed with them, but secretly I’m enjoying seeing them together.
I urge Dahla on as if I could escape the joking and teasing, even though it’s a salve, like the rope burn on my neck isn’t still on fire and raw. They know how to help me feel normal, just like the night they found me curled up as a young girl, too afraid to move.
The echoes of their laughter bounce among the trees in the silent forest, startling birds into flight.
Once Lees and Caym are out of my peripheral I release a small smile.
My heart fills with a little bit of happiness. I love the sounds those two make when they’re having fun, even if it’s at my expense.
The crackle of fire whispers in the eerily calm woods. Its soft siren song lures me in and I’m entranced by the flames, exhaustion needling at my soul. Even though it’s just past midday, the chill from the early morning ride hasn’t eased from my bones.
We made camp shortly after I rode away from the riverbank needing to clear my head, to build some resolve back into my marrow.
Looking around I finally absorb some of my surroundings, the adrenaline that had fueled me up until this point slowly leeching away. I count eight of us, nine if we include our prisoner. Caym and Lees are cuddled together, sitting under a gray woolen blanket closest to their fire.
In another group, four men are squatting on logs, cleaning their weapons. Zedriel, with the ability to shapeshift into another, is the only man in that particular group who has abilities.
His tall, rough features make him appear even more formidable during hand to hand combat, his towering build making even average men seem smaller.
Although he’s intimidating in stature, he’s one of the kindest men I have met.
He reminds me of the gentle goodness still in the realm, people who genuinely believe in the kindness of others.
He looks as if he might be part beast with his untamed dark hair and bushy brows, but he would sooner give the shirt off his back for anyone in need—clearly, as his spare leather coat is now wrapped loosely around The Devourer.
It’s an odd sight because The Devourer isn’t a small man, he’s at least two heads taller than I, but seeing him in Zedriel’s coat is laughable as it’s two sizes too big.
Merinda, the last in our party, keeps watch on the outer areas of our camp, looking for any possible tail.
I watch her round a tree, the scar on her hand flashing with the light flitting through the canopy.
The pale ridge runs from her wrist to her elbow, even more noticeable on her cool umber skin.
She’s one of my favorites in our company. Her beautiful skin, flickering in an array of topaz jeweled colors from the fire, is nothing compared to her deep sapphire gaze, though they also have been marred with loss.
She came to us just a turn ago, eager to help dismantle the chaos of Noxia. Her skill with a bow quickly put some of our best men to shame.
She instantly became a favorite of Leeson and mine, as she was our age, oftentimes staying up late in Rivers End to dive nude into the natural pools.
Merinda has always been willing to join Lees’ and I’s chaos.
I’d often see her gaze linger on me in those pools, a storm raging within those blue orbs.
Her lover died during a skirmish in a smaller coastal town where the king’s men had passed through rioting and looting, leaving despair in their wake. Merinda had buried her with the sunset and arrived at River’s End two days later.
The trip had to have been at breakneck speed, but many of us were accustomed to that kind of desperation. The kind of brokenness that burned and forced you to run.
The three of us had gotten far into our cups on many occasions, when we released all care and could celebrate in our sisterhood.
One time, we drunkenly climbed up from the cavern floor to the outer rim of the crater that opened up to the cliffs of Dirya and watched the sunrise swell from the dark waters of the sea.
With that burst of sunlight glittering on the black waves with white caps, we all cried, not for those we lost, but because for a moment in time we felt content.
That was the first time I felt true peace since my family was stolen from me.
I slowly blink the memory from my vision, focusing on the small smoking fire. Leaning down, I blow a steady breath to fan the flame of drowning embers. The coals smolder less and with a sudden bite, the flames roar and swallow the twigs.
The audible crackle returns, filling the space around us, blending seamlessly with the soft murmurs of my companions.
Merinda walks near the strong oak behind me, stopping to converse with me but never letting her adept eyes leave the tree line. I turn to face her even though her back is to me.
“I heard things got rough for you. Are you okay?” The natural singsong cadence of her voice is absent, concern flooding her tone.
“It could have been worse.” I feel small. Lees has learned not to approach me about topics like this until I go to her, but the earnest way of Merinda makes it easy to spill secrets. You’d think that was her magic, getting you to open up and reveal everything. It’s a shock she possesses none.
“Alora, sweetheart, I can see the blistered mark on your throat and the shallowness of your eyes. More has happened than you’d like us to believe.”
I groan inwardly. I should have let Lees heal the damned mark, but part of me isn’t willing to let it go just yet.
With the mark still so pronounced, I can’t run and hide the way I’d like to.
I have to endure and be forged in the suffering, perfected into something sharp and piercing, cold and unfeeling. A monster in my own right.
“Merinda, I’ll be okay. I really just need to sleep, but my mind wanders and won’t let me, even more so now.”
“I can always have Zedriel sing you to sleep. Though I’m not sure he’d tuck you in with warm milk.”
I huff out a laugh. She’s right, his ability with magic may be magnificent but his voice is lacking. It’s more likely to leave you with a hammering headache and I’ve already got one of those going for me.
“I’m finally feeling warm again, thank the gods. Maybe I’ll just rest now. We need to leave again with the moons’ rise.”
“See that you do, we’re all worried for you. Caym beat himself up after losing you, he feels he’s to blame for what happened. His eyes remain haunted. It sounds like it was close, Alora, and we can’t lose you.”
I know I should feel comfort from her words, and part of me does, but another part of me feels disconnected. Like I’ve allowed them to get too close and at any moment I could lose them, and that… that would break me.
“Don’t stay out too long. We have others who can take watch, Mer.”
Her head bobs, still never turning to face me, but her twists sway as she pushes off the tree to begin her prowl again. I never asked her what happened to Emiline, her lover, but I know well that Merinda will never again be caught unaware.
Turning back to my bedroll, I shove a makeshift pillow under my arm and lay facing the flames that have become a small but steady fire.
Through the orange wisps, I can see our prisoner purposefully chained to the tree next to Caym and Leeson, Zedriel’s coat still swallowing him. He looks exhausted and worn down, his pale—green eyes are unfocused, peering into the flames that divide us.
My eyes grow heavy, wariness weighting them down. As I start to nod off, I nearly miss the green that now settles on me, locking with my own gaze. What once was a soft lichen color now flares with a bright emerald, looking as if they made up a beast of their own that was starving.
I finally close my eyes, not wanting to stare into the eyes of the man who looks like he would do anything to devour me.