Heir of Pendel (A Pandoran Novel, #4) (39 page)

I noticed the edges of a tattoo on his shoulder as I examined his wound. There was a clean slice just above his heart, no longer than the length of my thumb. The blade had sunk deep, but by some stroke of luck it hadn't hit anything vital.

"So…?" he asked, jaw clenched in pain.

"You're lucky," I said.

"I've been"—
wince
—"told that a time or two." A grunt and then: "Do you know much about healing?"

"I know a little." I paused. Energy swelled down my arms in a rush of heat, but when it reached my fingertips, it slipped through my fingers like fine sand. I tried again, but it was like pouring energy into a black hole. The fog just absorbed it and gave nothing back.

"What's wrong?"

I chewed on my bottom lip. "I can't do magic. Something about this place…" I glanced at the wisps of fog curling around us and looked back at Myez. "It's as if it's…neutralizing my magic. So." I wiped a clump of hair from my brow. "Looks like we'll have to take care of this the old-fashioned way."

There had to be a small stream around here somewhere, and we needed to clean out his wound because there was some grit in the cut, and the skin around it was already a little inflamed. The problem was that I had a visibility of about ten feet, and my senses weren't any help. It surprised me how quickly I'd grown dependent on my ability to sense the things around me, and now that it was gone, I felt blind. It also meant I couldn't leave Myez alone while searching for a stream, because I didn't think I'd be able to find my way back to him. "Think you can walk?" I asked.

"I can try."

It took us a few tries, while he grunted an impressive array of curses, but we eventually had him on two feet and leaning against me for support. I wasn't sure where we were going, and everything looked the same. I didn't even know which direction we were heading because too many layers of water vapor buried the sun. Which was probably a good thing, because supporting Myez in this humidity warmed me enough without the heat of the sun bearing down on us, too.

We'd been stumbling along for all of about ten minutes when the little brooch warmed my pocket. At first I ignored it, thinking maybe I was just overheated in general, but when I veered Myez in a different direction, my pocket went cold. I paused, looked around and listened. A shadow darted through the haze, and a loud caw shrieked right above our heads. The sound was so close and so loud I jumped, startled, glaring behind me to catch the winged culprit vanishing back into the fog.

I cursed at the crow, my heart drumming in my ears, and it took me a few breaths to calm myself. I realized that in my fright, I'd turned us around, and without any visible landmarks, I had no idea where we'd come from and where we'd been heading. For all I knew, we could be facing the direction we'd just left. I grit my teeth and silently prayed the stupid crow would fly straight into a tree.

Distant thunder rumbled like a bass drum. Of course a storm would be on its way.

"Princess…?" Myez had heard the warning too.

"Hold on…" Well, now what? I certainly didn't want to be standing out in the open when the storm hit.

"Are we lost?" Myez asked.

"Be quiet, I'm thinking."

To his credit, Myez didn't say another word.

Okay. Right. I needed to evaluate our situation, and the situation was that we were lost. In a cloud.

Well, then, maybe you'll find your head, since that's where it usually is.

Conscience, not now, please.

We'd landed in this cloud because of Myez's amulet, which had been guided by my brooch…or so I thought. The brooch was cold now, but it
had
pulsed warm earlier. Maybe if I just…

I pulled the cool brooch from my pocket, wrapped my fingers around it and started trying out different directions. Nothing, nothing, and more nothing.

"Are you trying to make me dizzy?" Myez muttered. "Because it's working."

"
Shh
!" There. It was faint, but I'd felt it—the smallest pulse of heat against my palm. Encouraged, I led us forward in that direction, and to my relief, the brooch grew even warmer.

Myez didn't speak again as I led us through the thick haze, letting the brooch guide me as we picked our way forward through rock and grass and the occasional brush, scanning the ground for a stream or even a puddle. We'd found neither when I noticed the shadow up ahead.

It was a wall of darkness in the fog, and I might have gone a different direction had the brooch not burned so insistently. The thought crossed my mind that maybe the brooch wasn't leading us to safety at all. Maybe it was leading us to danger, but it was a little late to be questioning the motives of a piece of metal, or whatever it was made out of. And it wasn't like we had a list of options. It would be too easy to lose ourselves in this fog, and Myez needed help.

The wall of shadow grew darker and more substantial until a huge wall of granite, like the jagged face of a cliff, finally came into view. It stretched endlessly in either direction. A narrow crack in the wall cut right through its heart like an artery. Fog rolled into it, hiding its depths, but my brooch pulsed warmer. I felt a sense of dread that was, unfortunately, becoming much too familiar.

Myez's breath shuddered against me.

"We have to go that way," I said.

"Figured."

"Think you can make it a little longer before we stop?"

"I will."

I urged him into the trench, our boots crunching on grit and gravel. It was cooler in here, and the trench was just wide enough for Myez and me to walk side by side. Thunder rumbled again, directly above us this time, and the shadows deepened. Farther and farther we walked, the walls of the trench seeming to bend over our heads as if they might trap us inside. But the brooch was resolute, growing hotter and hotter against my palm, so we kept trudging along. We rounded a corner and the fog ahead thinned enough to reveal a small lake up ahead.

The lake was black, its surface still as glass and rimmed with a black beach. Huge shapes loomed just across the water and were concealed by the fog. My heart raced in fear, but as I looked out, I realized they were just boulders, standing and leaning like broken pillars, and a sheer rock wall stood behind them. We'd reached a dead end, but at least we'd found water.

"You'll have to walk to the edge with me," I said. "I don't have a bowl or anything."

He nodded, and the two of us hobbled down to the edge. The beach wasn't made of sand but millions of black pumice stones, all shapes and sizes, and they crunched beneath our boots. Once we reached the water's edge, I wriggled out from under Myez's arm and helped him sit. I helped him out of his cloak and peeled back the edge of his tunic so the collar draped from his shoulder. Now I had a better view of his tattoo, a mixture of beautiful swirls and writing in a language I didn't know, which trailed over his shoulder and down his arm.

I dipped a corner of his cloak into the ice-cold water. Tiny ripples rolled away from me, disturbing the water's pristine surface. I would've preferred to find a running stream, but the water was clear and the temperature was cold enough to prohibit most unwanted microbial growth. Not that we had much of a choice. I squeezed the wet wool over his wound, letting the water trickle over his skin. He sucked in a sharp breath and his hands fisted beside him.

"You know…" His voice was strained. "Most healers can heal a wound without causing their patient any pain."

"And most healers use magic." I dipped the edge of his cloak back in the water. "Anyway, I'm not a healer."

"I thought you said you could heal?"

"I said I knew a little. Not that I was healer." I squeezed another fistful of water over his wound.

"Then where did you"—
grunt
—"learn this little?"

I studied the cut. Most of the dirt and grit was gone, at least from what I could see. "I pay attention." I wiped at it with his cloak and made sure none of the wool fibers stuck to the cut. Then I cupped my hands, filled them with water, and poured it over his wound. Fresh blood and dark clots spilled out of the cut, and I dabbed at them with his cloak. "Better."

"Thanks," he managed.

"It needs stitches."

"Well, unless you've got needle and thread, bandages will have to suffice."

I sighed and sat back on the rocks, and thunder rumbled again. "Any idea where we are?" I asked.

"I'm not certain," Myez squinted above, "but if I had to guess…I'd say we're in the Shadowvale."

Shadowvale. I'd never heard of it before. A cold raindrop landed on my forehead and I wiped it off. I wondered how far I was from Alex. "And this Shadowvale is located where?"

"It's a region that runs along the western edge of the Arborenne—a sort of natural boundary between the Arborenne and Campagna—but no one ever comes here. The mountains are treacherous, and they surround this valley on all sides. Nearly impassable even in the middle of summer."

Which meant they'd be completely impassable in the middle of winter. Like now. "You've been here before, then?"

A slight shake of his head.

"Then how do you know that's where we are?"

"I don't. It's a guess."

Thunder clapped overhead, startling us both, and larger raindrops fell.

"Over there." Myez nodded toward something behind me. I followed his gaze. "See the dead tree sticking out of the side of the wall?"

"Yes…?" I strained to find what he was seeing, and then my brain made sense of the contrasting shadows. There was a small hole in the rock, just beneath the dead tree. "I see it."

Rain fell in thick sheets just as we reached the entrance to the small cave. The cave wasn't very deep—maybe six feet—and the ceiling was too low for Myez to stand, but it was enough space for both of us to sit with our legs stretched and, most importantly, stay dry. What I would've given for a fire. But we didn't exactly have the space, or the resources, and there was also the fact Myez probably didn't trust me anywhere near an open flame.

For a while we sat there, the rain plunking loudly upon the lake, turning the pristine surface into a battlefield of exploding water mines. Thunder rumbled, and a cold breeze gusted into our small hollow. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my legs, holding them close. Of all the places I'd thought I'd be, and of all the people I'd thought I'd be with, this was furthest from. I'd left the Pontefracts in order to find Alex, and here I was—not even twenty-four hours later—stuck in some Shadowvale with an invalid. Not that I could do much in this downpour, anyway.

I peered over at Myez. "Why did you help me escape?"

His lips parted in reply, but no words followed. He looked as if he wasn't quite sure how or where to begin.

"And how did you know about my brooch?" I asked. "How did you know it would lead us here?"

He folded his hands in his lap, his forehead wrinkled. "I wasn't sure where it would lead us, but I recognized the symbol."

"You recognized a carving of a dragon."

"No." He squinted at his hands. "Your brooch is an object from another time. In all my life, I've only seen one other. It was bone white, and it wasn't in one piece, like yours. What you have in your pocket is a symbol of the bond between rider and dragon. It's made of dragon scale, and that carving is the mark of the Draconi."

My anger stirred. "Is that why you helped me escape? Because you hoped I'd bring you to the dragons?"

"No, I—"

"Don't you dare think for a second I won't hesitate to leave you here to rot."

"That's not…why."

"Then
why
?" I snapped.

He shut his eye and sat there, his face pained with an ache throbbing from somewhere deep inside of him. "I had a daughter once. And a son and a wife. I would've killed for them. I
have
killed for them." His voice cracked, and he opened his eye and sighed. "How old do you think I am?"

"I'm not sure why your age is relevant." Actually, I wasn't sure why any of his nostalgia was relevant.

"I knew your grandfather," he said. "When he was a young boy. I was just as I am now, but he was as old as you are."

I frowned. "You're saying you haven't aged in half a century?"

A nod. "I wasn't Myez Rader back then." His gaze settled back on my face. "Nevan." His voice fell like soft rain.

"Excuse me?"

"My name. It was Nevan. Nevan Aldrik."

That name. I'd heard that name before, but where? And then the memory dropped on me: Arioch Prime, at his home in Karth, talking of a blacksmith who'd forged Nightshade, my dagger. Nightshade, which had appeared to me in a stream one day. Nightshade, which could penetrate both light and dark creatures. Nightshade, which was currently in Lord Cethin's possession—his chest, actually, if I were to be specific. Arioch had never said what'd happened to this blacksmith called Nevan, so I'd assumed Nevan was dead. My eyes flickered over Myez's incongruous face. "You're the Nevan who made my dagger. Nightshade."

Myez Rader picked up a small pebble from the ground and rolled it between his knuckles. "Was." He stopped twiddling the pebble and rested his hand in his lap. "I lived in the north. My land bordered the wall on the outskirts of Alioth. People didn't much go that way, which was why I liked it up there. I had land—hundreds of acres of land. We grew what we could, and when we needed more, I would travel to the nearby villages and trade my work for supplies. The people liked me, trusted me." He let out a soft snicker, as if the idea of his being trustworthy amused him. "They'd share news of the territories, and in exchange I'd tell them if there was anything happening on the other side of the wall. We lived near one of the abandoned towers, so sometimes I would climb up and investigate. Just to be sure. It was an excellent vantage point of the Icelands on the other side. There hadn't been much activity at the wall, not since the Great War when all the dark creatures were banished there. Even then there wasn't much to see, except endless planes of snow and ice in all directions. But then there began to be trouble on my land.

"We noticed it in our crops at first. They wouldn't grow, and those that did were sickly and produced rotten fruit, and then…
things
started coming through." His eyes strained at the middle distance, and thunder rumbled. "It was finding the second barghest on my land that drove me straight into town. Granted, I probably wouldn't have survived the attack if it had traveled in a pack as they're prone to do. But these were just stragglers. I brought this one's head to the locals in town, and they sent word to the lord of Alioth. In those days, there was no king. Each territory had its own governing faction, much like they do now, but the mainland wasn't united under one ruler, nor had it been since the Great War and the fall of the Estroians. Understand, though, there were men posturing themselves to reinstate a monarchy, and your great-grandfather was one of them."