Threats of Sky and Sea Page 4

  “You don’t have to do this!”

  He turns, but I still can’t read anything in his eyes. My heart riots, torn between hope and despair. For a moment, I let myself believe that he’ll refuse to act.

  Katerine taps a foot. “We are short on time, Adept.”

  Just like that, the moment is broken. I feel it snap like a thread has been cut.

  A flame soars from Tregle’s hand to the dry roof, and I scream my rage, whipping my fists over Baunnid’s large arm as it catches light. If it had snowed, maybe it would have spread slower, but the roof is nothing but tinder, consumed by flame. I twist. Strain. Try to claw my way free as Baunnid’s low chuckle taunts my ears. My feet fly at his legs as the fire licks toward the sky.

  Tregle steps back, observing his handiwork silently, and my struggles slow. This isn’t a fight I can win. The fire is hungry. It’s gobbling down the Bridge and Duchess as though it is starving. Tears prick at my eyes, and I pretend it’s the smoke. I have to look away.

  In the morning, the inn will be gone. Only ashes upon the ground there to testify that it ever stood. And the stars will be the only witnesses left.

  Five

  The peaceful oblivion of sleep does not come that night. Or the next. Two days later, as I trudge along beside Tregle, I decide I don’t even need oblivion at this point. I’ll settle for rest. A few stolen winks. A nap. Anything. I’ll take it, whether it means dreams of dancing flames, whispers of lies, or sleeping with a rock digging into my back. I can barely lift my feet anymore.

  We’ve been walking for two days straight, and I’ve long since stopped trying to take my mind off of things. Who gives one drop in the river that the stars look like tiny jewels in an endless expanse of black? Or a toss in the coffers that I might have once thought the wind rushing through the trees sounded like the Makers whispering to each other? Who cares if the grass shushes gently against my shoes in a playful caress? The soft sound does nothing to abate the stabbing pain in my feet, I’ll never hear a breeze quite the same way again, and the stars have seen far too much of my pain lately.

  I would kick at the ground like a child in the midst of a temper tantrum if I wasn’t afraid of Katerine’s reaction.

  Sixteen years, I think again. The pain is only a dull knife this time. They undid sixteen years of my history in one night. Burnt it to the ground.

  At least I can be grateful that the road we’re traveling is bound south. Shivers overtake me periodically. It’s not quite as cold as Abeline, but a chill still hovers in the air and I hadn’t had time to dress for it. It should warm up the farther south we get.

  I try not to think what else lies ahead on this road. The capital of Egria is south. I know that much about it, and I’m sure that’s where we’re headed. To the king Da abandoned years ago.

  Raising shackled hands to cover my yawn, I look back to where Piggy and Katerine prod Da along. No one would ever know he’s been awake as long as I have. He still holds himself alert and, occasionally, even smiles. It annoys Katerine. She glowers at him and jabs him in the back whenever he has the nerve to be so bold. But the dark circles under his eyes betray him. Sleep would be as welcome to him as it would to me.

  The chains on my wrists rattle as I settle them back in front of me, and after days of silence, my voice is a hoarse croak. “Can’t you make them stop? Just to rest?”

  Tregle glances over at me. He’s been my warden on the trek thus far. “Come on. You’ve seen them.”

  I can’t deny that. But I’ve seen him, too, and he’s done the most damage of any of them. He looks as tired as Da and I do though.

  “At this rate, we’ll be dead of exhaustion before you even get us to the king’s door.” Saying it out loud makes me wonder, and I stop in my tracks, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Or is that the plan?”

  He snorts. “Even if it was, I wouldn’t know about it.” My eyebrows shoot to my hairline. The idea that this is a plan he’s simply not involved in is not encouraging. He seems to realize that he’s been less than comforting and hastily adds, “It’s probably not though.”

  I stumble over a tree root and curse it for lying in my way. It should know that lifting my feet properly isn’t a job I’m up to right now. “Don’t Elementals have to sleep like everyone else?”

  “‘Course we do.” Tregle yawns. “But I don’t make the rules. That’s Lady Katerine. Who, by the way, it wouldn’t hurt you to make a friend of. At least start referring to her as ‘Lady.’ And stop calling Baunnid ‘Piggy.’”

  “Oh, come on.” The grin sneaks up on me. “That’s funny.”

  He shrugs, and I smother my smile. I’ll not be making friends of any of them. “You’re just not doing yourself any favors, that’s all.”

  We walk a while longer in silence. The talking’s helped. I’m more awake now, my eyelids drooping slightly less. But sooner or later, I’m going to collapse. The growing weight of my arms pulls me into a slump toward the ground. My feet feel heavy; they’re moving through the grass like mud clutches at my feet with every step.

  The dark that surrounds us really is soothing, I think. Like a thick quilt drawn over my head. Or the river at night, with the calm rushing sounds that have lulled me to sleep since I was a child. Or…the inside…of my eyelids—

  “Lady Katerine?”

  Tregle’s voice makes me jerk my head up. I’d been seconds away from either sleepwalking or passing out on the ground. I wouldn’t care to find out the consequences of either action.

  A few feet back, Katerine looks at Tregle expectantly. I’m as curious as she is about what he’s going to say. He glances at me. “I’m dead tired, my lady. I’ll hardly be able to guard the prisoners properly if I go on much longer. Could we make camp here?”

  Gratitude fills me, but I tell myself that I shouldn’t be grateful. It’s the least he can do after what he did.

  He’s picked a decent spot. It’s open enough that we’ll be able to see if anyone approaches us, ensuring that we’re safe from bandits, but off the beaten path enough that no one is likely to stumble across us.

  “Very well. Give us a small campfire then, gentlemen.”

  I need no further encouragement. My legs fold underneath me. I turn on my side in the dirt and burrow into Da’s coat, the only thing I could bring with me from the Bridge and Duchess.

  Katerine and Baunnid march Da past me to the end of the clearing. He tosses a wink at me, and I try to look impassive. The man’s lied to me for the past sixteen years. I can’t forgive him just because he’s trying to keep my spirits up about it.

  My eyelids grow heavier, so I resolve to save my brooding for another day.

  “Hey, Tregle?” I yawn out.

  He looks up from where he’s crouched over a pile of dry leaves and branches. I struggle with myself but finally manage a “thanks” before closing my eyes.

  And at long last, oblivion comes.

  Six

  I wake to cool rain splattering my cheeks. Lifting my head from the damp dirt, I stare up at the water plunging from the sky, bouncing down from the leaves above. I close my eyes, reveling in the feel of the cleansing drops on my face.

  I’m sure I’ll be sorry for the rain in a minute or two. The chill of winter clings stubbornly to the air, and walking in cold and sodden clothes will grow tiresome. Right now though, I’m glad for the water splashing down, drop by playful drop. It’s the closest I’ve come to bathing in days.

  Stretching my bound wrists over my head, I wince. My muscles are complaining loudly that they’re stiffer than they’re meant to be. Sleeping among rocks and tree branches hasn’t done my sore body any favors. But I no longer want to cry from sheer exhaustion, so I accept the aches. I’m just happy I had the chance to rest.

  Tregle’s already awake, hunched over and pulling his hands inside his cloak. He looks more miserable than usual, bowing his head in an attempt to avoid the falling drops.

  “That afraid of a little rain?” I ask.

  “Hard
ly,” he mutters. Baunnid stirs from his position several feet away, and we hush until he quiets down. Da’s still asleep, too, peacefully resting with his fingers threaded across his chest.

  Lady Katerine is missing from our camp. I jerk my head toward the others.

  “Where do you suppose her ladyship ran off to?”

  “No telling. She keeps her affairs private.”

  Silence covers us, and I shift uncomfortably. Tregle is not a friend—friends don’t bind your wrists and burn your home down—but the quiet’s pressing in on me.

  “When do you suppose we’ll be on our way this morning?” The question blurts its way out, rushing to fill the silent gap.

  “When the Lady Katerine commands it,” Tregle says, without inflection. He has the air of someone reciting lines by rote. He glances at me from the corner of his eye. “Didn’t think you’d be so eager to get a move on.”

  “I’m not.” Not at all. But the realization is slowly seeping into me that going home is not an option.

  In fact, chances are good that I’ll never return to Abeline. I’ll never convince Da to set those rat traps. Or replace the broken chair he kept stacking in the corner. We won’t be able to patch the roof or even to anticipate a crowd when Jowyck fails to open shop.

  Broke as we’d been, I’d liked the life we lived, but that life is gone. Dismay curdles inside my chest. My throat tightens. I’d expected to spend my life in Abeline, to turn the Bridge and Duchess around. Now, I don’t have a plan. I’ve no route to follow but one drawn for me by others. Tears sting my eyes, and I inhale sharply, rubbing at them to rid myself of the wretched things. One slips before I can catch it, and I let it slide its way to my chin. Raindrops are still coursing over my face, and it’s unlikely anyone will be able to tell one from the other anyway.

  Tregle looks over from where he’s been digging his boot under the dirt. It’s to his credit that he doesn’t bother asking me useless questions like, “What’s wrong?” Instead, he sighs and lets his hands slip from the folds of his cloak.

  “It might not be so bad,” he says. “If the king’s in a good mood when we bring you and your father in, he might just welcome him back to his armies. I’ve heard they were good friends.”

  “Have you?” I ask. I’ll let him distract me from my might-have-beens. Of course, I’ve heard of the Duke of Secan—I mean, Da—too, but I can’t remember many of the stories. I never thought there was a reason for me to pay attention.

  “Oh, sure,” Tregle says easily, relieved that I’m no longer on the verge of a breakdown. “Your father’s practically a legend. His disappearance is regarded as one of His Majesty’s great personal tragedies—losing his best friend, you know? Of course, everyone always assumed that he was kidnapped by a hostile kingdom or something because of his services to the realm, but—”

  “Services?” I break in. I can’t remember this part of Da’s “legend.” I know by now that he’s a Rider, but was he like Katerine, hunting truants down? “What do you mean ‘services?’”

  Tregle clams up, folding his lips in. He won’t say anything else, no matter how much I press him. “Not my place,” he insists.

  Shaking my head in annoyance, I look away. The rain is falling harder now, and Baunnid jolts awake, swearing at the sight of it. Da stretches himself awake languidly. He looks endlessly amused.

  A thought niggles at me, one I can’t shake. I try to push it away, back into a cozy cave in my mind where I can leave it to shrivel up and never bother me again, but the idea’s persistent and crawls up to my lips.

  “Tregle.” I whisper so Baunnid and Da can’t overhear us. He looks over at me. “You said if the king is in a good mood.” I allow the idea to ripple in the air, spreading out to encompass us both. Tregle’s mouth is downturned. I’m certain he knows what I’m going to ask. “What if he’s not?”

  Silence is his only answer.

  Seven

  We slush through the cold rain for two weeks. The ground soon ceases looking like a forest floor and becomes reminiscent of a swamp.

  I don’t really mind the rain, but the mud bothers me. The feeling that the earth and water have united in an effort to swallow me whole preys on my patience.

  And if water and earth are on my imaginary list of life-ruining elements, then fire and air top it.

  I look at the Elementals who command them. Tregle’s mouth hasn’t left the form of a hard line in days. Katerine and Baunnid’s moods, too, have swiveled. They’d been overly pleased with themselves, but for weeks now, they’ve been thunderclouds on the verge of bursting.

  My stomach rumbles; I’m starving. We haven’t stopped to eat since the night before, and we’re well into the afternoon now. The sky’s a hazy gray. If we’d still been in Abeline, I would have been right about the snow. The clouds are exactly right for a blizzard.

  I don’t bother suggesting to Tregle that we stop for food. Frankly, with the fare that we’ve been presented with as of late, I’d almost rather the pangs of hunger that gnaw against my insides.

  For the past few meals, Da and I have been fed undercooked squirrel. My stomach turns over at the remembrance. The stringy meat still tasted of blood. One bite and I hadn’t been able to help it: I’d spit it into the grass. Da had continued chewing thoughtfully. Maybe he preferred bloody squirrel to no meat at all, but I’d voiced a protest. At least the day before we’d had cooked meat. I’d earned myself a wallop from Baunnid for my trouble.

  Tregle’s snapping his fingers repeatedly, brow furrowed in concentration. His frown deepens, and he wipes his hand on his cloak. I can’t understand why. The rain hasn’t stopped, and the black fabric is soaked through. He starts snapping again, but stops when he sees me watching, whipping his arms to his sides.

  It’s such puzzling behavior that it takes me hours to work it out, and when I do, I nearly exclaim out loud. It makes perfect sense now why our captors are in such poor spirits. The rain must affect Torching. If their hands are wet and the air soaked through, any fire would be extinguished before it could start.

  Which means… Hope flares in my chest and, rain be damned, refuses to be snuffed. Could Da and I get away?

  They don’t let us near each other often. If I’m right and we can subtract their elements from the equation, it’ll come down to a physical contest. Tregle will be easy to take out. I almost feel a trickle of remorse as I think it. He’s the best of the three of them. His legs are strong from their travels hunting truants, but I honestly can’t picture him raising a hand to me without specific instruction. And Da can certainly handle Baunnid. He’s thrown larger, more muscular men out of The Bridge and Duchess for starting fistfights. And even with his hands bound, he should be able to control the air a bit, giving us an advantage.

  Air. Katerine. Even when we’re asleep and she disappears, I’m sure she’s never far. I have much less faith on the odds of three to two, especially if she’s factored in.

  My spirits sink back to where they started. Whether or not fire is removed as an entity, air still remains.

  Back on the first night, when we stopped to make camp, they’d been determined to keep me and Da separate. Probably to prevent us from plotting an escape.

  It has to be the rain that’s changed things now. It’s harder to threaten us with Torchers who can’t torch. Now we all sleep in a congregated mass while the skies drip down on us.

  I lay awake. The raindrops slow until there’s a pause in the deluge of water, and I let myself admire the stars as they twinkle out at me, a friendly face among so much misery. They’ve witnessed the undoing of my world, but they’re a comfort tonight.

  A toe taps my foot, and I flinch away.

  “I know you’re awake, Breena Rose,” Da says.

  I roll on my side to face him. Tregle’s taken to lightly binding my ankles instead of shackling my wrists when we stop to camp for the night. I’m thankful for the small mercy. I can’t run, but it makes sleeping an evening’s worth just a little easier. I stretch my
arms to get the blood flowing again.

  I don’t answer Da. The crickets chirp. The underbrush rustles. A frog croaks. The rain’s completely ceased, and the air hangs damp and heavy over us. He just stares at me, expression placid and patient. Waiting. Finally, I break my silence. He may not have qualms about keeping things from me, but I’ve never been good at keeping things from him.

  “How could you not tell me who you used to be?”

  Brown eyes slide away from mine as he shifts, looking up through the trees. “Warm night, isn’t it?”

  “Da.”

  My voice cracks a little. I don’t care that he’s a nobleman—well, not much—or that he’d once been friends with the king he proclaims corrupt loudly and often. I don’t even care that he’s a Rider. I care that he lied about it. For someone who’s supposed to trust me, he has an odd way of showing it.

  His sigh fills the air. “It’s not something I’m proud of, Bree. I thought I’d left all of that behind me. I saw no sense in dredging up old memories when I thought they’d never find me.” A bitter laugh trips out of his lips as he crosses his ankles. His arms are still bound tightly. “I mean to say,” he continues. “His Grace, Duke Ardin of Secan, operating a tavern in the High North? No one ever would have believed it!”

  “But…” Why? That’s what I want to say. Why drag your pregnant wife across the land, forsaking Makers and country to run the taps for a tiny village? It doesn’t make a lick of sense.

  And what happened to my ma? Da’d always told me that she’d died birthing me, but after everything else turned out to be a lie, I’m not sure I believe that anymore.

  I’m afraid of the answers, and I can’t ask this stranger with my father’s face any more questions. He lets my words vanish into the quiet.

  Several yards away, Tregle sleeps slouched against a tree, and Baunnid lays collapsed in a pile of leaves, using them as a makeshift pallet.