Twisted Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 5) (2 page)

4

Adaryn

D
inner looked terrible and smelled even worse. Peas and boiled bits of meat swimming in a bowl of greasy gravy made my stomach turn. The bread was over-baked and hard as a rock. I nibbled a little at the bread, but pushed my bowl of gravy over to Aaric. He protested.

“Adaryn, you need to eat. Think of the baby.”

I shook my head. “It looks nasty. I can’t.” The feeling of nausea grew.

“Just try it. It’s not as bad as it looks. One bite. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to finish it.”

I glowered at him. “You sound like my father.”

He smiled. “Well, I’m going to be one soon.”

I took my fork and spearing a pea out of the gray, gelatinous mess, put it to my lips. My stomach roiled in rebellion. I clamped a hand to my mouth and stood hastily. I was going to throw up. I thought of the chamber pot, but none of the serving maids had emptied it yet, so I opened the door and ran down the hall, down the stairs and out the common room door, heedless of the villagers gathered at the tables.

I made it just in time. I emptied the contents of my stomach, and then some, off the side of the porch on my hands and knees. My head pounded. I sat back on my heels, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I felt awful.

A ripple of enchantment touched my consciousness, and I turned, surprised. I couldn’t see anyone in the darkness, but the magic was there. I stood on shaky legs, peering into the gloom. It was snowing again, and the lights of the inn didn’t shine very far. The magic faded. I waited. Nothing.

I shrugged, about to go inside, when a shrill scream split the air. Heart beating fast, I spun around, fumbling inside myself for my magic. It roared to life, crackling around me in its intensity. I sent a shower of glittering white-hot sparks into the air, lighting the night sky around me. Several dark figures were dashing in between houses, some carrying what looked like bundles over their shoulders. One such figure stepped out of a house close to the inn—a man, from the height and build—and my breath caught as I saw that the bundle he held was a child.

A woman dashed out of the house after the figure, blood on the side of her face. “Stop! Give her back! You can’t take my daughter!”

The dark figure turned. Magic radiated from him, and with outstretched fingers, he slammed a sheet of blue lightning into the woman. She slumped to the ground. I wasn’t certain she’d survived that amount of magic, but I wasn’t going to stand around and let mysterious strangers murder and kidnap. I summoned the magic, forming it into a shimmering sword. I charged the man, yelling at the top of my lungs, hoping the sound would alert more villagers to their plight.

The man was not expecting an attack. He started in surprise and had to leap out of the way to avoid my onslaught. He tossed the child in the snow. She lay there, unmoving. The man and I circled each other. He’d called up his own weapon—a long, cruel blade of flickering yellow flame. The shimmering sparks I’d thrown into the sky were fading, but between that and the light from the open cottage door, I saw his face, and almost lost my hold of the magic in surprise. His eyes were yellow, glowing like that of a feral animal. At the moment, his were as wide as my own must be.

“You’re one of us.” His voice was deep, and filled with incredulity. There was something vaguely familiar about him, but I was sure I’d never seen him before. “Yet you defend the Denali. Why?”

“Why do you steal children?” I asked, my voice shaking with rage. “For slaves?”

He lowered his sword and it winked out of existence. “We don’t have need of slaves. I need essence.” He pointed east. “Come to the city of the Twyli, strange one, and we will teach you. Come to Twyarinoth.”

He started to reach for the child, but I leapt to defend her with a snarl. He lifted his hands in a peaceful gesture. “It is because of your ignorance that you defend her, so I shall let it be. I hope we meet again.”

He turned and melted into the night, yelling out in a language I didn’t understand. Several dark shapes ran past me, following the man, leaving the village alone.

5

Aaric

T
he little village was a plethora of noise when Aaric stepped outside of the inn. People ran in every which direction, yelling, crying, calling out individual names. Several patrons of the inn ran past him and out into the inky black night.

Aaric heaved a sigh of relief when he spotted Adaryn in the snow just a few feet away. She was kneeling in the snow, wrapping her shawl around something. He ran over to her.

“What’s going on? Adaryn, are you all right?”

Adaryn stood, holding what Aaric could see to be a child, a little girl. “Where did she come from?”

The nomad woman held the child to her chest, cradling her protectively. She jutted her chin out in the direction of a ramshackle house several paces away. The door was open, and a woman lay on the ground.

Aaric strode over to the fallen woman and rolled her onto her back, checking for a pulse. There was none. He looked up, stricken, at the child Adaryn still held. “She didn’t make it.”

Adaryn’s arms tightened around the child, who stared down with wide, unblinking eyes at the woman. “Momma,” she whimpered, and was silent.

“Shh.” Adaryn smoothed the child’s hair back from her forehead. It looked white. “It’s all right, baby. We’re going to find someone who can help you.”

Aaric searched the house, but found no one there. He emerged, shaking his head at Adaryn. “There’s no one else.”

“Do you have a papa, baby?” Adaryn asked soothingly, looking into the child’s face. The little girl stared back and didn’t answer. Aaric sighed. “Let’s find the mayor of this village and find out what’s going on.”

They found him in the center of the village, a large man with a long, drooping mustache, roaring out orders to people to clear away bodies and to set more guards. He turned when Aaric approached, eyeing him suspiciously. “Who are you?”

Aaric made hasty introductions, and then motioned to the child. “Her mother didn’t make it. Is there a father to take the child?”

The mayor shook his head. “Father died two years ago. I doubt the child remembers him.” He started to turn away, but Aaric stopped him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “A family member, then? Someone the child is related to?”

The mayor shook his head and strode away, calling for more light. Aaric stared after him, exasperated. “There has to be someone who can take the child.”

“She’s going to get cold,” Adaryn said. “Let’s take her back to the inn and ask the innkeeper what’s happened.”

Together, they trudged through the icy snowdrifts. Aaric offered to carry the child, but Adaryn refused.

The inn was quieter than it’d been when they left just a few minutes ago, but there were still a few patrons, huddled around their mugs of ale, talking excitedly to one another.

Aaric sat down at one of the more crowded tables. “What happened out there?” he asked. The men quieted, looking at him suspiciously. He sighed, and ordered a round of drinks for them. Everyone seemed more willing to talk after that. Half of it didn’t make any sense—the men had already had too much to drink—but from what he gathered, they’d been attacked by the Twyli.

“They’re heathens, that’s what,” a gray haired man slurred. “Attacking poor villagers and stealing their children.”

“They kill any of us who resist,” a tired farmer spoke up, his eyes shadowed. “I only have my eldest son left.”

“Why?” Aaric asked. “Why do they take them?”
No one could answer that, and eventually, Aaric gave up and went to his room. Adaryn was already in bed, her form curled protectively around the child’s. Aaric tiptoed over to see if they were sleeping. Adaryn was, but Aaric’s eyes found the girl’s, looking back silently at him.

He put a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet, but she only continued to stare. Keeping his coat on, Aaric undid the ties on his blanket roll and spread it on the floor. Lying down, he thought of the child and wondered what they were going to do with her. The innkeeper didn’t look like a kindly lady, but perhaps, given enough gold, she would take care of her.

6

Adaryn

I
stood in a white fog and turned in a slow circle, trying to get my bearings. Something was out there. Something . . .

WARN THEM.

I jumped, startled. The voice seemed to come from everywhere, yet nowhere.
WARN THEM.

I jolted awake, staring into a pair of solemn blue eyes—so blue they were almost violet. The child was already awake, but she hadn’t stirred from my arms. I brushed her pale blonde hair from off her face. “How are you feeling, baby?” I smiled soothingly at her, hoping to coax a smile. She blinked, but otherwise I got no reaction from her.

“Would you like some breakfast?” I sat up, realizing with a grimace that our bed sheets were wet, proof that the child hadn’t moved. We both needed to bathe.

I saw Aaric on the floor, his mouth slightly open, snoring softly. I’d slept so soundly I hadn’t heard him come in last night.

“Aaric.” I spoke softly, but he sat up immediately with a snort, rubbing his eyes blearily. His hair stood on end.

“Is everything all right?”

“We need some bath water,” I said. I looked down at the little girl. She was stick thin. “Breakfast too.”

An hour later and the child was squeaky clean and sitting in my lap at one of the common room tables in front of a large bowl of porridge and fruit. I had to spoon-feed her; the toddler seemed to have no will of her own. I had to do everything for her. I thought of the woman with blood on her face—her mother. What had happened in that cottage before the woman’s death? I visualized the child being ripped from her mother’s grasp . . . and firmly put my imagination away. It wouldn’t do to stress about what might have happened. I gave her a little hug, looking up when Aaric entered the room.

He’d bathed as well, and was in a clean change of clothes. He wore his dark gray vest, the sleeves of his white button-up shirt rolled up. His hair was tousled from being scrubbed dry with a towel. He smiled as he sat across from me, his reading spectacles folded and hanging out of his collar. He liked to keep them close in the event he felt like reading.

“Have you eaten yet?”

I nodded, not telling him I’d only managed a spoonful of porridge. Food sounded terrible right now.

“We need to find someone in the village who will take the child.” Aaric smiled kindly at the little girl. “How are you feeling today?” The child looked back silently. Aaric sighed. “Not one for talking, is she? How old is she, anyway?”

“How old are you, sweetie?” I asked kindly. The girl sat there. I was beginning to think she might be deaf, when she slowly held up three little fingers.

Aaric and I laughed. “She’s not deaf, anyway,” Aaric said, confirming that we’d had the same thought.

“Why won’t she talk?” I asked as I continued to spoon-feed her.

“I think she’s traumatized,” Aaric responded. He’d put his spectacles on and was studying the child intently. “I’ve read about it. Sometimes, when a young child witnesses or experiences something terrible, such as last night, they stop speaking.”

“Will she ever talk again?” I asked, dabbing the toddler’s face with a napkin. The poor thing.

“I don’t know,” Aaric admitted. “Given time, probably. It was just something I read in passing though. I don’t know much about it.” He stood. “We need to see who in the village is willing to take care of her.”

I clutched the toddler to me instinctively. I didn’t want to give her up. It soon became clear, however, that no one would take her. They were worried the Twyli would come back, and no one was willing to risk their neck for a child that wasn’t theirs. Asking the innkeeper if she would take the child nearly got us thrown out before we could pack our things.

“Stupid old biddy,” Aaric growled, tying up his blanket roll. “Everyone here is a blasted coward.”

I held the child. The few times I’d set her down ended with her clinging to my skirts frantically, her eyes wide with panic. “We will take her,” I said firmly.

“Doesn’t look like we have much choice.” Aaric was packing his books. “I already talked to the mayor about it today when you were bathing her. He wouldn’t take her in himself, and claimed that there wasn’t a soul who would. Rotten excuse for a mayor, that’s what I say. Who would let a child go homeless?”

I smiled at him. Aaric was obviously flustered by the idea of taking the child himself, but he would rather be inconvenienced than allow the child to fend for herself. He was a good man.

“The mayor did mention a city. Bleaksdale. It’s several miles east, but he said the travel was easy, and it should only take us a week or so to reach it. We’ll find a caretaker there.”

I nodded silently. I looked down at the toddler. Her head lay on my shoulder, eyes finally closed in near-sleep. I felt a surge of affection for the tiny thing. She’d lost her mother, and was now shunned by her village. My hands clenched in determination. I wasn’t sure what awaited her in Bleaksdale, but in the meantime, she would be cared for as if her real mother was still with her.