Twisted Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 5) (9 page)

26

Adaryn

D
awn’s faint light tinted the horizon. I shivered, wrapping my cloak tighter around my frame as I stirred the porridge over the cook fire. I’d taken the last watch and was now making breakfast.

I heard the snap of a branch in the morning stillness and lifted my head in alarm, scanning the area. Peering into the gray light of morning I saw a shadowy figure approach camp. I stood, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. The figure looked familiar, and I thought of the Twyli prince.

“It’s Zero.”

I jumped. I’d been so intent that I didn’t notice Fyrsil behind me. Now that he’d come closer, I could make out the sun-bleached hair of the other man. He was alone.

“Let me talk to him.” Fyrsil placed a hand on my shoulder in what he probably thought was a reassuring manner. “Zero is painfully shy and tends to stutter when he’s nervous.” He strode past me to meet his servant.

Zero quickened his stride when he saw Fyrsil, and on reaching him, dropped to one knee. They were too far away for me to hear their words, but the two of them appeared to be conversing. Zero unsheathed his sword and held it up to Fyrsil, still kneeling. The brigand king shook his head and motioned Zero to sheath his blade. I frowned, wondering what it meant.

They talked for several minutes more, but I couldn’t hear anything from my vantage point. I was about to join them when Zero stood and walked past me to camp without so much as glancing in my direction.

“What was that all about?” I asked.

Fyrsil watched his servant, a troubled look on his face. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” I pressed. “What’s going on?”

“Zero says he failed my command to protect Aaric.”

“Were they attacked? What happened to my husband?” I fought to keep my voice down—I didn’t want to wake Dahlia—but it was a struggle.

Fyrsil’s frown deepened. “I . . . Zero said he fell.”

“Fell? Where? Why?  Zero!” I stalked over to the man setting up camp. “What happened to my husband? Blast it, answer me, Zero!”

The fool man had begun tidying the camp, of all things. I reached out and grabbed his coat sleeve. A moment later, I was picking myself up out of the snow, head ringing. He’d hit me!

“Don’t touch me.” Zero’s voice was ice-cold, revulsion on his face.

The rage I’d tried so hard to contain boiled to the surface, the magic coming with it. I summoned it, the magic crackling around me in a wreath of blue light. Zero held his sword, his face hard.

“How could you?” I screamed in his face. “You’re a liar. You’re telling me my husband
fell?
You
killed
him!”

“Zero doesn’t lie, Adaryn.” Fyrsil approached, hands held up in a peaceful gesture. “If Zero said that the volcano took him, then—”

“No.” I turned to him, hatred and despair washing over me. “I’m done
with you and your
stupid
lies. I was foolish to think you’d changed. You told Zero to kill Aaric, didn’t you?”

“You sound like an idiot,” Fyrsil snorted, but I didn’t listen. It all made sense now as the memories from Twyarinoth came crashing back. Fyrsil had suggested I forget Aaric and the girl.

“You had Zero kill him because you wanted me.” I choked on my grief. “I
hate
you!” Words weren’t enough. Tears springing to my eyes, I called the magic inside me, and slammed it into the ground under Fyrsil. I wanted to kill him. “I trusted you
again
and you betrayed me.” I hurtled myself at him, hitting him everywhere I could reach, my hands curled into fists. “I-hate-you-I-hate-you-I-hate-you!”

Fyrsil grabbed me by the wrists. “Calm down!” He was shouting, incredulity on his face. “What is your problem? I—”

“Let go!” I ripped my arms from his grasp and stumbled through the snow at a run to my tent. Dahlia was crawling through the tent flap, eyes still red from sleep. I picked her up and grabbing my pack, went to our horses. I would have to leave the gliders and everything else.

I secured a pack over my shoulder, and sat Dahlia in the saddle on Aaric’s horse.

“We’re leaving, Dahlia.” I smiled through my tears, my lips quivering, and climbed up to sit behind her, leading the other horse by the reins.

Fyrsil made one last effort to stop me, stepping in front of the horse. “This is madness, Adaryn. If Zero said an accident happened to your husband, then I believe him.”

“Get out of the way.” My body shook with rage. “I’ll run you over, so help me.”

Fyrsil wisely moved to the side, his hands held out as if to soothe me. “At least take your tent. It’s suicide to travel in these winters without adequate shelter.”

I booted the horse to a trot, ignoring the brigand king. I had to get away from him and his hateful servant, now, or I’d try to kill them. But I couldn’t risk Dahlia’s life. We had to leave.

Helpless anger burned through me, and I clenched my teeth together, unsuccessfully trying to stifle a sob. “Goodbye, Fyrsil.”

Tears streaming down my cheeks, I rode away.

27

Adaryn

I
ran through the dark smoke, trying to find him. The air was thick and I coughed, choking on ash. Aaric was out there, somewhere. I had to find him.

“Aaric!” My mouth filled with swirling ash, and I coughed again, spitting it from my mouth. I blinked, my eyes watering. Panic washed over me in waves and I scanned the darkness, trying to find him. He was gone.
Gone
. “Aaric!”

The smoke roiled around me.

Warn them.
A voice spoke inside my mind. A deep voice that sounded human, but also not human.
Warn the Denali.

“I can’t.” I shuddered as grief wracked my body. “I can’t. I need to find Aaric.” He was out there. I could sense him.

Warn them.
The smoke thinned, and I felt my heartbeat quicken. I was standing on air.

Ruis sprawled beneath me, a ruin of blackened buildings and tumbled gates. Bodies were strewn everywhere. So much death. Who would be capable of such a thing?

The smoke eddied around me and I coughed. My eyes hurt. When the smoke parted again, I saw the army.

Twyli. They looked like a dark sea, walking out of mountains and across the plains. West. To Ruis. Who would stop them?

Then I saw him. A solitary figure, standing before the army. He was too far away for me to make out his features, but I knew that proud stance, the tall, strong frame.

Bran. He would face them alone.

Warn my people.

The smoke shifted and changed; it was fog, cold and thick. I shivered, hugging myself. I took a hesitant step forward and fell into nothing. I screamed, flailing my arms about, trying to grab hold of something, anything.

Warn them.

I woke up with a gasp, shivering in the cold. I lay under the eaves of a tree, Dahlia in my lap, my cloak wrapped around us for shelter.

I lay my head back down, thinking about my dream. It’d felt so real. Ruis was in danger. Bran was in danger. I frowned. Why would Bran defend Ruis?

Aaric. Grief ripped through me as I remembered my loss, and I gently rocked back and forth with Dahlia in my arms, forcing the pain away. I had to wait. I had to get the child somewhere safe.

The sky began to lighten. It was nearly dawn. It’d be best to move on soon. Without proper shelter, we needed to move with all haste. Fyrsil had been right. Leaving without adequate shelter had been stupid, but I hadn’t been thinking clearly at the time, overwhelmed by my blistering anger.

I sighed, shifting Dahlia into the snow beside me to stand. We needed to keep moving. I felt something around my neck and frowned, my fingers going up to brush my throat.

I was wearing the good-luck charm I’d given to Aaric.

28

Adaryn

I
froze, my fingers touching the little beads and woven ribbon. How had it gotten there? Conjuring up my final memory of being with my husband, I distinctly remembered giving it to him. I recalled the woman who sold the charms say it was supposed to keep the wearer safe. My lips wobbled. It hadn’t kept Aaric safe.

Dahlia blinked groggily, her wispy blonde hair in disarray. I hurried to get the horses ready. My dream had been just that, a dream, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that Bran was in danger. I needed to help him. I needed to focus on the living.

I glanced around the snowy landscape, biting my lower lip. We were still in the grip of winter. We’d be hard pressed to stay fed and warm in the meantime. My father had taught me how to set snares for rabbits and other small animals, but so far I hadn’t been able to catch anything. We were on our last reserves of food. We’d have to make a stop at Bleaksdale.

“We need to keep moving, sweetie.” I put Dahlia up on the horse’s back. My husband had never named the beast and had just called it ‘horse.’

I was used to Dahlia’s silence, so my heart hammered against my chest when she stiffened her body, a long, wailing shriek erupting from her throat. Her blue eyes were wide and locked on something past my shoulder.

I stumbled, spinning around in the snow, expecting to see a snow cat or wolves. What I saw chilled me to the bone, filling me with more dread than any animal could inspire.

Up on the hill that led down to the little hollow we’d slept in stood the Twyli prince. I couldn’t see his face clearly from this distance, but his stance was threatening. I felt a thread of magic and he spoke, amplifying his voice.

“I extended the hand of friendship and peace, and you scorned it.” Anger rolled off Hydari’s voice in waves. “You scorned
me
, the
prince
of Twyli. With my army, soon to be prince of the world. You won’t live to regret it, woman.”

His magic swelled and I backed away, shying from the force of it. It was nearly as strong as the sky jewel’s power, but it felt wrong, twisted somehow.

The Twyli smiled. “You feel it. The power. It is thanks to the lives of the Denali that this is possible. When you’re dead, I will take the girl. I hate admitting I was wrong, but I should have listened to my sister.” He formed a sword, the blade glowing with a sickly light, and charged down the hill toward me.

I snatched up my own magic, and pushed Dahlia behind me. It was almost laughable how pitiful my enchantment was compared to his, but I
would not
let him take the child.

Hydari was close, now, his features coming into focus, his face twisted into a feral snarl.

I raised my hands, wreathed in blue fire, and the entire hill collapsed in a shuddering roar of snow, dirt and stone. The prince turned, bringing his hands up, but that was all he had time to do before he was completely buried.

I stood still, utterly stunned at what had just happened. “Rover’s luck,” I breathed.

“Not luck, little sand cat,” a familiar voice spoke, and I turned to see Fyrsil step out of the forest’s shadow a few yards away, his midnight hair tied back in a tail.

I tried to make my face stern, folding my arms across my chest, but my legs felt weak with relief. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your unladylike rear, it seems.” He tilted his head, a roguish smile on his lips. “Again.”

I sniffed dismissively, unable to come up with a retort.

“Adaryn.” His expression grew serious. “I swear I didn’t do anything to harm Aaric. Zero didn’t either. I promise. And I’m really sorry.”

I nodded, looking away from him. Now that the haze of anger had passed, I knew he hadn’t. If Fyrsil had wanted to kill Aaric, he could have done so plenty of times before now. My throat constricted and I couldn’t speak.

The brigand glanced at the mound of fallen snow and dirt. “We’d better leave.”

“Isn’t he dead?” I asked, but I hurriedly mounted Horse, Dahlia sitting front of me.

“With magic like that?” Fyrsil snorted. “Not likely. He’s probably stunned, and will be furious when he digs himself out. We’d better make tracks.” Fyrsil untethered his horse deeper in the woods and swung into the saddle. “The only reason I was able to get the upper hand is because he had no idea I was there.”

Zero joined us shortly thereafter, following Fyrsil like a shadow.

“What’s your plan, Adaryn?” Fyrsil asked. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to travel back west,” I replied, one hand around the toddler’s waist, the other hand holding the reins. “Back over the mountains.”

“Why?”

“To warn the others.” I studied him out the corner of my eye, but I couldn’t read his expression. “You must have heard the prince. He has an army. The Twyli are going to attack Ruis, Fyrsil. Maybe Sen Altare, too. None of the non-magic users are safe. I hope that I’ll give them much needed time to prepare for war. Or to at least escape.” A thought came to me. “I’m going to stop and warn Bleaksdale, too. I don’t suppose they will stand much of a chance, but they are in danger also.”

“I’ll send Zero to warn them.” Fyrsil replied. “He’s not a magic user, so they’ll be more likely to trust him. It’ll buy them some time to evacuate.”

“Thank you.” It felt awkward, thanking the brigand king, and he merely shrugged in response.

We rode in silence for a long time after that. My longing for Aaric was like a knife through my heart. I tried to focus on my surroundings rather than think of him. It was too painful. It was then that I noticed Zero watching me, his pale eyes unreadable.

“What?” I asked him. The brigand shook his head and looked away.

I fingered the charm around my neck. How had it come to me? What did it mean?

Zero was looking at me again. “What?” I said again, irritated.

The man shrugged and mumbled something under his breath.

“Come again?” Fyrsil asked, eyes squinted as he peered at his servant.

Zero coughed nervously and mumbled a little louder. I tilted my head, turning so I could hear him better.

“Speak up, man!” Fyrsil barked, and Zero jumped.

“Your necklace,” he said to me, voice barely audible above the jingle of harnesses and muffled thump of horse hooves. His face reddened. “I s-saw it. Around A-Aaric’s neck. When he fell.”

“All right,” Fyrsil eyed his servant askance. “So you noticed Adaryn has a matching necklace. Good job.”

Zero’s face was flushed with embarrassment and he looked away from Fyrsil. I shook my head. “It’s the same one.”

The brigand king rolled his eyes heavenward. “And how is that even remotely possible?”

“I don’t know!” I snapped at him. I felt another wave of loss threaten to overwhelm me. “I don’t know. I just know I woke up with it this morning.”

“Okay.” Fyrsil’s eyes widened in alarm as he registered my expression. I was a hairsbreadth from crying. “That’s fine, Adaryn. I recognize it as a good-luck charm from the Denali. Maybe it’s magic. Anyway,” he continued, obviously wanting to switch subjects, “I don’t understand why you want to go back to warn Ruis. Aren’t these the people that enslaved you? Why would you want to help them?”

I snuck a glance at Zero before responding. The brigand’s face was still flushed, but he looked decidedly relieved at not having to speak. “No child deserves to have their life ripped away from them, Fyrsil. Even the Oppressors’. I will see if my clan will help me.”

“Your life is much more important than the life of a Denali, Adaryn.”

“You’re speaking nonsense.” I glared at him sourly and then turned my attention back to our path.

“Were you following me?” I asked the brigand king after some time.

“Maybe.” Fyrsil shrugged. “You ran off in a rage without half your supplies. What else was I supposed to do?”

I groaned inwardly, not wanting to say what needed to be said. “I’m . . . I’m sorry for what I said earlier. About Aaric. I thought you and Zero made it all up to cover up . . .” I trailed off.

Fyrsil looked uncomfortable. “It’s all right.” He coughed self-consciously. “I guess I should apologize for not respecting the relationship you and Aaric had. I didn’t realize your bond was so strong.”

I eyed him incredulously—how could my relationship with Aaric be any less?—but he looked serious.

“Do you plan on returning to your camp then?” I didn’t relish the thought of traveling through the mountains alone, but with the Twyli prince holding a grudge against me and my mission to warn Bran about the threat of invasion, I didn’t have a choice. I also needed to get Dahlia to safety. I hoped Bran and the nomads hadn’t traveled too far.

The brigand king laughed. “No. We’ll need to stop by and explain my absence, but I plan to travel with you.”

“To what purpose?” I peered at him suspiciously.

Fyrsil’s expression was one of pure innocence, which made me even more alarmed. “Why, it’s like you said. You can’t think I’d let all those children in the western cities be taken? Perish the thought.”

I didn’t believe him for one minute, but I let the matter drop once I realized questioning him produced no results. I’d find out sooner or later.