Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (24 page)

I
went
through the rest of the items in my horse’s saddlebags while the others set up camp. Cassia and Kel seemed to be feeling better since they’d tried my potion. It was a simple but soothing mixture, and they’d appreciated it. I hadn’t examined Kel as I had Cassia. Just looking at him wakened feelings I’d buried years before. Not love, though if he were as kind and good-humored as he seemed, I didn’t see how a person could help falling for him. But then, no one I’d ever met was what he seemed.
No
, I told myself,
this is entirely physical.
I was an adult, not some hot-blooded young girl. I could handle myself.

I found a pair of finely balanced daggers amongst the soldier’s things. Other than a cloak that smelled like horse and sweat, a tin cup, a water bag, and that bottle of what I took to be home-brewed alcohol, there wasn’t much that was useful. Someone else must have carried the food and medical supplies for the party. Pity. Still, the knives would be useful if I needed to do more work along the way, and I still had the horse.

I could sneak away tonight. Leave them. Head toward Luid on my own.

The idea brewing in my mind seemed insane, but I couldn’t shake it. I’d escaped death by a matter of minutes back in Arberg. True, if they’d let me choose my manner of execution, I might have chosen poison and come up with something that would mimic death but allow me to wake before they burned my body. Either way, I decided, I was living on borrowed time, and I would use it well.

My mother had told me I was born for great things. Now, for the first time, I realized how true that might be.

I would see Severn dead. The idea warmed me as the sun set and the air turned cold. I would make him pay for what he did to my mother. What he did to me. I’d make him feel the pain of nearly starving in that barren land, of being ripped from my home, of working until the skin of my hands cracked in spite of the healing potions I learned to make. Of every compromise I’d been forced into for survival.

And it wasn’t just about me. Severn was bad news for Cressia, and I suspected other provinces. How many times had I heard of magic-users executed for refusing to go to Luid? How many had been taken and never heard from again? Much as I hated my father, the people had tolerated him, and only grumbled about him at tax time. They’d appreciated it when he’d sent crews of soldiers to help dispatch troublesome dragons. Severn did no such thing. Though his army was growing, he didn’t spare them for the likes of us. Taxes would rise soon, if the old men in the tavern were correct—and they usually were. We’d see no benefit from it, certainly. And there was the air of fear that had come over the land in recent years…

No, I decided. My mission was not entirely selfish. At least, I could tell myself it wasn’t.

I set my things down and watched the rest of the group. Kel said something to Aren, who smiled. I hadn’t realized he was capable of it. He still didn’t look happy, but it was something. Such a disturbing presence. I wondered how he, Kel, and Cassia came to be friends. Kel seemed to carry peace with him, an ability to remain untroubled in the face of rejection and sharp words that I envied. Cassia was harder, but not unkind once I’d spoken to her.

Aren was less frightening than I’d expected, but no more welcoming, and he frequently seemed troubled or angry. I’d do well to put him behind me.

Unless, as Kel said, his plans truly aligned with mine. I tapped a fingernail against my teeth as I thought it through. If Aren was as hard and ruthless and powerful as I’d heard, he’d be my best chance of seeing my plan through. Kel had indicated that Aren had something planned to bring Severn down, and I would help him with that if I could. But I would also be prepared to do it alone if I had to. I could get information from Aren before I made my own plans. I needed to know about Severn, about what I’d find in Luid. Aren had wanted to use me for information. It only seemed fair that he should offer me the same.

After we all shared a meal of dried meat and fruit, Kel and Cassia unpacked a pair of bedrolls with thick wool blankets.

“It’s not enough,” I said. “The bedrolls. Even if we take turns on watch, there’s not enough for three people to sleep.”

“Not a problem,” Aren said. “I need some time alone, anyway.” He bent to set fire to the wood that he had collected, and did so with nothing but his bare hands.

That’s not so impressive
, I thought. Given time and the right supplies, I could create a potion to do the same.

Then he disappeared, replaced by a large mountain eagle.

“Oh,” I said, actually speechless for once. I’d known he had the skill, but to see it in action caught me by surprise. No potion could do that.

I didn’t feel him reading my thoughts, but I’d have sworn he wore a smug look on his beak.
Stupid, superior Sorcerers.

“I’ll take first watch,” I muttered, and took one of the blankets to wrap around my shoulders.

“Works for me,” Kel said. “I’m exhausted. Wake me in a few hours. We’ll want to get moving early tomorrow.”

Aren flapped his way up to a branch of a bare tree and closed his eyes. If he was anything like me, it would be a long time before his thoughts quieted enough to let him sleep.

He’s nothing like me
, I reminded myself. I reached for the soldier’s cloak that had been with my horse’s things and placed it over a fallen log. The thing smelled too horrible to wear it, but I needed the warmth. I pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders, and shivered.

Hours passed, and the stars shifted overhead. My heart quieted as I listened to the forest around me. Most people didn’t feel the life in the plants the way I did. They didn’t know that the trees breathed slow and deep, didn’t sense roots spreading through thawing earth and shoots pushing toward the sky, didn’t grasp the depth of life in the smell of decaying leaves, or the magical potential in every living thing. I did. I felt it deep in my bones, as I imagined the great Potioners all did.

I didn’t truly know. I’d never met a great one.

Kel rolled over and flung an arm across his eyes, then sighed and sat up. He caught my eye and offered a little smile, then raked a hand through hair that stood straight up in patches. He stood and shuffled closer, stepping over his sleeping sister on the way, then sat next to me. The log bowed under the added weight. I shifted over to make room.

“It’s a little early for your watch,” I told him, speaking quietly so as not to wake the others.

“I know. I’m awake now, though. I’m still not used to sleeping in the open air.”

“You’re accustomed to more comfortable surroundings?” I imagined things in Luid were quite different from what I knew in Arberg.

“In more ways than you know.”

I could have gone and taken his bed while it was still warm, but my mind was too awake. We sat and watched the fire together, and I found myself glad of company. He didn’t look at me or try to touch me. My wariness relaxed, if only a little.

“So you’re a Potioner?” he asked. “What’s that like?”

“I don’t know. What’s it like not to be one?”

He shrugged, and his blanket brushed against mine. “I don’t know much about it. I know it’s a natural gift, but I’d have thought it required study, the way a Sorcerer has to study and experiment before he can use his magic.”

“That’s true. My teacher was a male Potioner. Something of a rarity. He thought he was fantastic.” I grimaced. “So did I, at first. But he wasn’t. He taught me the basics, let me study from the few books he had, but much of his knowledge was learned. A Potioner’s power and skill are better measured by what we sense.” Gods, how I envied Potioners who trained in Luid under real masters.

Kel tilted his head slightly. “I’m not sure I follow.”

I reached out to pluck a short blade of spring grass from beneath us. “What is this to you?”

“Grass. Green. Leafy. Food for horses, maybe?”

“All correct.” I pressed my palms together with the grass between them. “It’s also a non-magical plant, so I don’t feel much from it. But based on my experiences and what I feel right now, I know that it would also make a fine addition to bulk up a healing medicine if I didn’t have enough of it. It would spread the potency rather than watering it down, at least to a certain point. It would take trial and error to find that point, but I know it would work.”

“How?”

I chewed on the bottom of the stalk. “It’s something I know on my own. Instinct.”
Just like I know I shouldn’t be having this conversation with you
, I thought as my gaze met his again and my heart skipped.

“Fascinating.”

I shrugged. “I’d get more from a magical plant. It’s a useful skill to have, but it’s not like a Sorcerer’s magic. Are you reading my mind or something?”

He quirked an eyebrow. “No. Why?”

“You seem to be studying me. You’ve looked at me that way a few times today.”

“I am, but I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

“I’ve heard Aren can do that. Read minds.” I pulled the blanket tighter about my shoulders. “I think he did it to me.”

“He can,” Kel sighed. He didn’t seem to like it any more than I did, and I found myself warming to him further. “I can’t. I get a sense of people, but it’s nothing that intrusive. At least, I hope it isn’t.”

“What do you sense in me?”

I thought he’d laugh and humor me, but his expression remained serious as he looked into the fire. “Pain. But also—”

A faint noise cut him off, and we both stood. The sound came quietly at first, but quickly grew louder. Flapping wings, nearly overhead. I hurried to put out the small fire. Aren woke in his tree, and his feathers puffed out. He spread his wings and ascended toward the treetops.

Cassia came to stand with us. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “Could be a dragon. Stay quiet. It will be fine.”

The sounds grew louder. Not a dragon, though. I heard many wings up there, and dragons were solitary creatures from the time they left their mothers’ nests.

Three shapes appeared overhead, then four, then six. Shorter necks than dragons. The legs were long, and thick tails flowed behind them in wavering lines.

“Horses!” I whispered, more for my own benefit than anyone else’s. A smaller shape joined them. Aren. The horses went around him, but he harried the lead horse until they dipped lower in the sky and disappeared into the trees.

The rest of us weren’t far behind, crashing through the trees in the direction they’d headed.

The herd landed in a moonlit meadow lush with young spring grass, and most of the horses folded their massive, white wings and set to eating right away. I’d heard that they had to eat a lot because they used so much energy flying. Their muscles stood out under their skin, thick and strong, and their winter coats were glossy under the long guard hairs. A small, brown mare with a lopsided white blaze on her face stood in front of Aren. She shook her mane as we approached.

“Humans,” she muttered. “You never leave us alone.” She lifted her nose into the light breeze that had followed them, then looked back at her herd. She folded her wings neatly and turned to me. “Did you send him up? He’s not a proper eagle, you know.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why he followed you. Please excuse the intrusion. We don’t mean you harm.”

Cassia had brought Aren’s clothes. She motioned for him to follow her into the trees.

That’s inconvenient
. I tried not to be pleased by that. Pettiness would get me nowhere, but I couldn’t help it. Even the greats, it seemed, had weaknesses.

He came back after he dressed and spoke to the lead mare. “I apologize,” he said. “You reminded me of an acquaintance of mine, and I wanted to ask whether you knew her. Are you from the Western mountains?”

She shook her head. “Nay. We’re from the south, not far from what you call the Silver forest. It’s a good place to live. Or was. There are too many humans there now, building houses on our grazing land, and many of them want to capture us and put us to work. They’ve made a sport out of trying to ride us, and they hold us responsible when one falls to his death. One of my herd should have been killed for it.” She nodded toward a white mare. “But we’ve got her back, and we’re not planning on returning to that place. These mountains you mentioned are hospitable to our kind? Where are they?”

“West,” he said. “You’ll see the mountains, but I’m afraid I can’t direct you any better than that toward the other horses. Florizel didn’t speak much about her home. May I ask your name?”

“Paerella. Your friend is an exile, then?” The mare twitched her tail and brushed it against her haunches.

“I don’t know. She was separated from her herd. She’s far from here now.” He turned to Kel, Cassia, and me. “You didn’t have to come. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“That’s all right,” Cassia whispered, apparently entranced by the horses. The moonlight reflected off their bodies and pale wings, making them seem to glow as they cropped at the grass. A feeling of peace stole over me.

“I was also wondering if you’d tell us whether you’d seen any other humans while you were traveling today,” Aren added. “We might be heading in the direction you’re coming from, and it would be helpful for us to know what’s coming.”

The mare snorted. “Humans are everywhere. We passed by humans, and stayed away from them. I couldn’t tell you how many or what kind, only that there were too many. A town, too, if you keep going down this road. Not so far.”

“Thank you, Paerella,” he said. “I’m sorry we have nothing to offer you in return.”

“No, you have nothing we need. You’ve already told me where to find more of our kind, and that’s something. Do you think they’d welcome us?”

“I can’t say. Florizel has a kind heart. If the others are like her, I think chances are good.”

“Thank you.” She dipped her head to each of us in turn, then walked in a wide circle around her little band, nudging a young grey back into place beside his mother, giving a white-faced roan an affectionate nip on the shoulder.

“Do you know what town that is?” Aren asked me as we walked back.