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

14

Adaryn

“
I
hate myself.” I’d stopped crying, but my head ached from the tears I’d shed. I was riding Sorrel, gaze riveted to the ground several paces ahead of me. I was following the tracks of the remaining Twyli party that had attacked us. A quick scan among the horses told me that Dahlia hadn’t dismounted herself. There had been, however, prints of larger feet in the snow, leading up to and then away from Sorrel. A Twyli, as none of Fyrsil’s men had seen Dahlia during or since the attack.

“Don’t take it so hard, Adaryn,” Aaric said gently, riding next to me. “We were attacked. You can hardly be blamed for what went wrong here.”

I shook my head, a lump forming in my throat again. I swallowed, blinking furiously. “I shouldn’t have left her. When I saw she was gone I shouldn’t have wasted time helping Fyrsil.”

“I’m right here, you know,” Fyrsil said dryly, riding a few feet ahead of us. He turned in his saddle to scowl at me. He’d pulled his black hair back and tied it with a strip of leather. “Guess I never did thank you for helping me, sand cat.”

“If you want to thank me, help me find the child,” I snapped, and he turned back to look forward again, raising a hand in a peaceful gesture. “Calm, Adaryn. We’ll find her, provided we catch up to them before they reach Twyarinoth.”

“How quickly will they travel?” Aaric asked Fyrsil. He reached over and patted my knee in what he probably hoped was a comforting manner. It didn’t help. Much.

“They move fast,” the brigand king said. He was watching the trail as closely as I. He’d left his men behind to continue protecting the city of Bleaksdale, only bringing the man with the strange eyes. His name was Zero. He followed us like a silent hound, scanning the woods for danger. Fyrsil continued. “But we’re a party of four, and we’re right on their tails. It’ll be a tight race, but I think we can do it.”

I nodded, even though Fyrsil couldn’t see me. We had to overtake them. We had to.

Aaric took a deep breath and watching me, hesitated a moment before speaking. “What happens if we don’t reach them in time?”

I gritted my teeth with the effort of keeping my tears from falling again.

“You know that as well as I do,” Fyrsil said. He might as well have been talking about the weather, his tone was so casual. “The child dies. They’ll take her life to fuel their magic.”

“They must be very powerful,” Aaric remarked. He pulled a crumpled notebook from his pack and started to write. “Doing this to as many people as they have.”

“The boost of magic doesn’t last,” Fyrsil replied. He scanned the sky ahead of us. We’d been traveling for several hours, and the winter sky was beginning to darken. “That’s why they are constantly on the hunt for unprotected Denali. They need fresh lives to keep their power at its peak.”

“Why children?” Aaric’s nose wrinkled in puzzlement. “Why didn’t they take someone older, like you or me?”

“Because,” Fyrsil’s voice took on a tinge of annoyance. He was getting tired of questions. He didn’t know Aaric well enough to know the inventor never ran out of questions. “A child’s essence is stronger.” He reined his horse to a halt. “We’ll stop here for the night.”

“No!” It was an effort not to shout. “We can’t stop now. We haven’t caught up with the Twyli yet!”

Zero had already jumped off his horse and was clearing the snow under a tree to pitch a tent. I shook a finger at him. “Get back on your horse!” He didn’t even glance in my direction, continuing his work. “
Zero!
” He slipped his rucksack off his shoulder and started rummaging through it.

“We need to stop and rest, Adaryn,” Fyrsil explained. “If we dash headlong after them we risk breaking a horse’s leg. Not to mention they’ll have someone keeping watch to alert them even if we were to attack.”

“If we don’t continue,” I countered, “we won’t gain any ground and they’ll beat us to the city.”

“It’s a risk we’ll have to take.” The outcast king would not be swayed. I wanted to strangle him. “If we lame a horse, we won’t stand a chance of catching up to them.”

“Fine.” I slipped down from my horse into the snow. I trudged past Zero, giving him the full force of my glare. The fool man didn’t even look up from his work.

Aaric started picking up branches and twigs. “We won’t need those,” I said. “A fire may alert them.”

“Unfortunately, you’re right,” Fyrsil said to me. He’d sat on the blankets Zero had unpacked, content to let his servant do all the work. “If they find out we’re here, best case they will increase their speed and beat us to the city. Worst case they’ll come back and kill us.”

Aaric helped me set up our tent and lay our fur blankets inside. After that we huddled together for warmth at the entrance. Aaric pulled some food from our supplies, stale bread and cheese, and handed some to me. My stomach clenched at the idea of food, but I took some bread and nibbled it anyway; I would need my strength.

“How do you know so much about the Twyli?” I finally asked Fyrsil.

The brigand king yawned, stretching his arms above his head. “Anyone will talk if you hurt them enough.” He headed for his tent, leaving Aaric and I alone. I shuddered. Fyrsil definitely had his own moral code. I didn’t like the Twyli, but torturing someone into talking seemed wrong.

“How are you feeling?” Aaric asked gently.

“Will we be able to save her?” I mumbled, feeling the all too familiar lump form in my throat.

“Of course.” Aaric put his arms around me, drawing me to his chest. I let him, drawing comfort from his closeness, breathing in his masculine scent, the hint of coffee gone.

“I should have watched her more closely,” I said, pressing my face against his jacket. “But when I saw that crazed Twyli woman attack you, I couldn’t help myself but go back to help.”

He ran a hand gently through my hair, being careful not to tug any matted strands. “Get some sleep, love.” He kissed my forehead. “I’ll take the first watch.”

I nodded and crawled inside our tent, wrapping myself in the soft, warm furs the clan had given to us as a wedding gift. I was so tired. My head felt like it was made of straw, and my eyes felt like they had sand in them, but sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned, my mind dwelling on Dahlia and whether she was all right. It hurt to think of her in the clutches of those who meant to take her life. I didn’t think she was dead, not yet, anyway. They needed her “essence,” whatever that was, and Fyrsil had told me after the skirmish that they would take her to Twyarinoth for that. If I could just get her back before we reached the city, everything would be okay.

My eyelids drooped, and I found myself drifting in and out of sleep.

15

Adaryn

T
he dreams I had were strange: Fyrsil standing in thin air, looking down at a massive, dark city. It somehow
belonged
to him, but it wasn’t Sen Altare. Aaric, talking to an enormous, winged creature with shimmering blue scales. The strange Twyli I had spoken to back in the village beckoning me into a deep fog. Dahlia, strapped to a strange table, unable to move, her eyes filled with terror. Dark figures bent over her. The last image jolted me awake, and I lay there shivering and sweating.

Aaric’s slumbering form lay next to me. I’d slept longer than I had realized. I pushed the covers aside and crawled to the tent opening and outside, careful not to wake Aaric.

Zero was leaning against a tree. He glanced over at me for a moment, then went back to scanning the trees, shrubs, and everything in between.

I rubbed my arms, trying to keep warm. “Is it just me, or is it colder on this side of the mountains?”

He ignored me. I gritted my teeth, irritated. “So you can’t talk, huh?” I marched over to stand beside him. “Why not?” I asked, before it occurred to me that if he really couldn’t talk, he wouldn’t be able to answer that.

The man sniffed the air, then turned and stalked over to Fyrsil’s tent and entered. A minute later he reemerged, followed by a bleary eyed and yawning Fyrsil, his hair messy with fly-aways in his face.

“Time to pack up.” He yawned again, his jaw looking like it would crack, and I found myself stifling one of my own. I went to wake Aaric. He sat up, hair tousled, and blinked. “It’s still night,” he mumbled, trying to burrow back into his blankets.

I was already rolling up the furs and pushed him off. “Fyrsil says it’s time to go,” I said, tying them into rolls. Aaric started to object, but I silenced him with a glare. “I don’t want to hear it. The sooner we leave, the sooner we can save Dahlia.” I roughly pushed the tent flap open, pulled our belongings out and carried them to the horses.

Fyrsil was already seated on his steed, eating some bread. Zero was pulling the canvas tent down, tying blanket rolls to saddles and finishing that, pulled more rations out of a saddlebag and passed them to Fyrsil.

“You’re not going to help take down camp?” I asked, incredulously.

Fyrsil looked surprised. “Why would I do that?” he asked, confused. “That’s servants work.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re not a king anymore.”

“I have you to thank for that,” he grumbled. He stuffed more bread in his mouth before taking the reins, guiding his horse toward the tracks. Thankfully it hadn’t snowed while we slept.

Aaric and I finished taking our tent down and with everything ready to go, set off, eating while we rode.

The sky was inky black, but I could tell by the air and feel that it was nearly dawn. If the Twyli had an early start, well, ours was even earlier. We should catch up within a couple of hours.

As we rode, Fyrsil took the lead, tracking the prints. It wasn’t until we had been riding for nearly an hour, that I noticed he seemed agitated. His back was stiff, and he kept looking at the tracks behind us. Unable to contain myself, I asked, “What’s wrong?”

Fyrsil was quiet for a moment before responding, “I don’t think the Twyli slept last night.”

“What?” I exploded. “We wasted all that time sleeping, while they kept going?”

“Looks like it.” Fyrsil clicked his tongue and his horse moved from a walk to a trot. It was beginning to lighten, which made it considerably safer for the horses to travel. “Fortunately for your child, we only rested four hours. Unfortunately for her, we may not be able to catch up with them. Four hours is quite a loss. They were moving slowly though. I don’t think they wanted to risk laming their horses either.”

“We’ll catch up,” I said grimly. “No more stops.”

Fyrsil’s tone was mild. “The horses may need some time to rest later—”

“No stops!”

We urged our horses to move faster. The sun was slowly rising and with it, a sense of growing panic for me. We couldn’t be too late. We couldn’t. The Twyli had to rest some time, didn’t they?

The hours slipped by, and eventually the trees thinned. We found ourselves facing a long, cold stretch of black, rocky plains. It stretched as far as the eye could see, sloping upward. Snow covered most of it, but the perfect blanket was broken by large, stone formations, and the tracks of our prey, ever before us.

“From here, we need to move carefully,” Fyrsil cautioned. “The Twyli are no fools; they will have slowed down as well. The land looks flat, but it’s pitted with shallow holes and dips. You risk breaking your neck if you ride too fast. We must ride single file directly over their tracks.”

We rode out from under the shelter of the woods and onto the endless, rocky stretch. I frowned. The ground felt . . .
different
, here. When I mentioned it to Fyrsil, he said, “I feel it, too. Enchantment. From who, though, I don’t know.”

The sun rose out of the east, pale and distant. Its warmth didn’t seem to reach us, on this cold and stony wasteland. We rode for what felt like hours, even though it couldn’t have been more than one or two.

Suddenly before us, the ground seemed to drop away. The horses snorted and whinnied with alarm. Far below us, in a massive bowl of rock and earth, was a city. At least five times the size of Ruis, it stretched on, seemingly endless; towers, turrets, walls, and balustrades, all made out of the same black rock of the earth. Lights twinkled in windows, like countless spark flies. I realized my mouth was hanging open with amazement and shut it with a snap.

Aaric rode forward, shading his eyes against the cold sunlight. “Is that them?” He was looking down the slope.

It was. A party of five or so Twyli were riding toward the city, nearing the gates, far ahead of us. I squinted my eyes. One held a child in his arms.

“Dahliaaaaa!” Her name ripped from my throat in a scream. I booted Sorrel in the flanks, and the mare shot forward, galloping down the steep incline.

“Adaryn, no!” Aaric’s cry rang in my ear. I paid him no heed, urging my horse to faster speeds, careless of the danger I was putting both of us in.

One of the Twyli looked back and saw me, and two of them turned their horses to face me.

I called forth the magic. It resisted me. I was exhausted, having barely slept that night and traveling for hours before and after, but I ruthlessly snatched it up anyway, thundering toward the oncoming Twyli. Both raised their hands. The ground shuddered and rippled between us. Sorrel reared, hooves pawing the air as she squealed in fear.

The ground split with a shuddering roar, molten rock spewing upward in a fountain. Sorrel bucked and kicked and I was thrown, landing on the rocky ground. She bolted away, driven mad by her terror.

I stood watching, helpless, as the rift grew wider and wider, stretching out on either side of me, impossible to cross. I looked across it. The two Twyli were already riding back to meet the others, and together rode up to the opened gates. Once inside, the gates began to swing inward, and I watched as they closed with a dull thud. Dahlia was on the other side of them. I fell to the ground, my face in my hands. I had failed. Dahlia was lost.