Exile (39 page)

“When? Is she still here?”

“She was here. She is now with Suac Chozai.”

The spark of hope became a painful tightening in Yiloch’s chest. “Where did they go?”

“On a spirit journey,” the warrior replied, his closed expression making it clear that he intended to give them no more information.

“We need to know where,” Ian insisted.

Yiloch already knew what the warrior’s answer would be. Spirit journeys were sacred to the Kudaness. Did Indigo have any idea what she was getting into?

“A spirit journey belongs to those who take it. No one else can know its purpose or destination. Suac Chozai and the woman walk with the gods. They do not walk among us and we cannot follow where they go.”

Ian took a deep breath and his fists clenched as he scowled at the warrior. “Are you saying you don’t know where they went?”

The warrior nodded. “It is not my place to know.”

“They took warriors with them though,” Yiloch guessed, sweeping his arm to indicate the diminished population of the village.

“Some,” the warrior replied.

Then, wherever they went, they expected it to be dangerous. Yiloch looked past the warrior and the huts to the vast expanse of desert land beyond. A light wind lifted eddies of sand, twirling it through thorny shrubs and sweeping it around in an elegant dance before laying it to rest it in a new spot.

He turned to Ian. “Can you sense her?”

“No, but I can’t sense her when she’s standing beside me unless she wants me to,” he replied, an edge of frustration in his voice.

Where are you, Indigo
,
and do you have any idea what you’re doing?

Tantrum was still drinking deep, so Yiloch continued to gaze out at the desert, scratching the big animal’s shoulder while he struggled with the urge to go looking for her. Then his thoughts turned to the army he had been behind all the way north and he realized he didn’t have time to indulge such desires. Wherever she was, she wasn’t alone. The suac and his warriors were capable of protecting her from outside danger. There was no one there to protect her from them, though. He had no choice but to be satisfied with that for now. There were much greater problems to solve ahead of him and he could not abandon his empire to the Gray Army for anyone, not even Indigo.

Tantrum began to sniff some pots sitting next to the watering hole. The other four horses also appeared sated, so Yiloch thanked the warrior for telling them what he could and mounted. The stallion tossed his head, still going strong despite long days of travel. He rested a hand on the dappled neck and the animal stilled under his touch.

“What about Indigo?” Ian hesitated alongside his mount, staring out at the desert.

“She has more power in her than any of us and she’s not alone,” Yiloch replied, hoping the company she was with wouldn’t prove to be worse than no company at all. “We must return to Yiroth.”

Ian stroked his horse’s neck. His other hand moved to the cantle, but he still didn’t mount. When he spoke again, it was in a bleak tone. He already knew the answer. “I could stay and look for her.”

Yiloch suffered a pang of longing to do exactly what Ian offered. “I need you.”

Ian turned, distress shining in his pale blue eyes when he looked up at Yiloch. “We
need
her,” he insisted. “If not for the simple pleasure of her company than certainly for the power she can wield.”

Yiloch took a deep breath, seeking patience within himself. The misery he felt at leaving her behind made his temper quick, but he did need Ian and they had talked enough.

“I don’t disagree with you,” he said after some consideration. “But the Gray Army may be slaughtering our people and they aren’t going to wait for us to find her. If I can’t have you
and
Indigo then I
must
have you. I would go after her myself if I could.”

Ian met his eyes, his hands shaking on his horse’s reins. “Would you? Would you really? Do you understand what you did wrong?”

Yiloch held the young man’s gaze, remembering a time not so long ago when he had been the one pointing out Ian’s mistake. He tried to be angry at the young creator’s audacity. No anger came, only a deep, sorrowful longing to take back what he had done. Would he ever see her again if he left her behind this time?

“Yes, I do.”

Something in his tone or expression must have convinced Ian. The young creator mounted up and nodded to Yiloch. Cadmar, who had watched the exchange with a passive interest, mounted as well, checking that the lead to Ferin’s mount was secure once seated. They left the village travelling three abreast now and the mood of his companions was much less bitter, if still somewhat melancholy. It was disconcerting to see how much influence Indigo had over his men.

For his part, Yiloch could only wonder what she might be doing. Why had she gone with Suac Chozai on this supposed spirit journey? It was hard to believe the suac’s intentions were good considering how his people felt about the Caithin and anyone who used ascard. Did the man have any inkling of how great her power was? The warrior said they were walking with the gods. A true walk with the gods, Kudaness style, involved a potent, mind-altering drink. It was actually more of a poison and it killed nearly half of those who tried to use it. That knowledge didn’t bring him any comfort. The Kudaness already owed him for Ferin’s life. If anything happened to Indigo, they would suffer a thousand-fold for it.

If the Gray Army doesn’t destroy us first,
he reminded himself. Tantrum kicked out at Cadmar’s horse, acting on Yiloch’s irritation and he corrected the stallion again.

“Do you think she’ll be safe with the suac?” Ian asked, giving Tantrum a wary glance as he moved his mount closer.

No, was Yiloch’s initial response, but he held his tongue. Ian was seeking reassurance and there was little point in upsetting him more. The young creator needed to focus and he wouldn’t be able to do so worrying about Indigo. Cadmar spoke before Yiloch could come up with a satisfactory answer that wasn’t a complete lie.

“That one is rarely safe,” the half-breed said with a soft chuckle. He always managed to find humor in life and Yiloch envied that. “Yet, I think somehow that her story is far from over.”

I hope you’re right
.

Yiloch urged Tantrum up to a trot. The ground here was less sandy and the faster they moved, the less time he would have to dwell on the woman he had left behind. Before him was an army apparently set on decimating everything in their path. If he managed to solve that rather substantial problem, he could worry about Indigo again.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

After leaving the hut, Myac kept a fast pace heading south toward Kudan, pausing only when the horse’s health required it. It wasn’t until late afternoon of yet another long day of travel that he found another reason to dread his decision. The sky was darkening fast and the area was all too familiar. He didn’t want to be stuck seeking shelter from another storm here. The road took him through the silver trees and the charred remains of Segys. From there it crossed the river into the new AhnSegys, the village that had been his home once. He clenched his teeth when lighting flashed low overhead and thunder rumbled moments later. The sky filled with dark clouds bloated with rain.

“Not here,” he growled, glaring at the sky.

The horse pranced about. More lightning flashed, illuminating the rebuilt inn near the center of town in white light. Stopping the horse, he stared down the empty street. Everyone had gone inside to wait out the storm. A few heavy drops of rain splashed down on him. The horse flinched when thunder rumbled again. In the next flash of white light, he saw the house that stood on the corner of a joining road, built over the ruins of the house he had lived in with his mother. In the seconds after the flash, the dark roads turned red with blood from his memories.

Another drop of rain struck his cheek and more followed. Heaving a deep sigh that caused a twinge of pain in his chest, he kicked the horse on and angled him toward the inn. This was the last place he wanted to wait out the storm, but it was his only option.

Leaving the horse in the care of a skinny stable boy, he entered the dingy little inn. A weak fire struggled in the hearth, offering little light and even less warmth. The innkeeper, hunkered on a stool by the front, was a grizzled man with heavy jowls and sleepy brown eyes. The only woman in the room, waiting the two occupied tables, had the misfortune of looking similar enough to be his sister.

Myac sought a table near the fire and ordered a glass of wine from the masculine woman. Outside, thunder cracked loudly enough to shake the inn and a flare of lighting brightened the world beyond the filthy windows for a few seconds. Myac shivered. His pulse quickened. It was unusual for him to be bothered so by a mere storm. Perhaps the unfortunate incident in the last storm or, more probably, the memories of this place put him on edge.

The next roll of thunder lasted a long time and the flash of lightning had an orange cast to it. He stared at one grimy window. The orange glow outside continued growing brighter rather than fading and cold crept out from his gut, prickles of unease racing up his spine. Then he heard the first scream.

The lightning must have started a fire in the village.

He joined the other patrons going to look out the windows. A window shattered and the closest man to it reeled backward and hit the floor, a bladed spear protruding from his throat. Myac scurried back, strengthening his barriers and wrapping shields of protection around himself. The door burst inward, busting partway off its hinges before the heavy, striking hooves of a rearing horse. The warrior rode into the inn, grabbing his spear from the dead man’s throat and sweeping it around in a wide arch that opened the chest of the serving woman. Shock barely registered in her eyes before she collapsed, blood gushing from her chest and between her lips.

Myac thrust out with ascard, using enough force to send the mounted warrior and his horse, as well as the rest of the inn’s occupants, flying back into the opposite wall. The wall cracked and bowed out a fraction from the weight of the horse’s body. The warrior and the animal slumped to the floor in a bloody heap alongside the doorway as another warrior entered, this one on foot.

Myac struck out at this one as well, taking quick inventory of his escape routes as he did so. This time the attack ran up against a barrier that not only blocked it, but rebounded it back at him. Before he could react, his own power struck him and he flew back into the wall behind him, managing to cushion the impact at the last second. He still struck with considerable force and the burst of pain in the wound Indigo had inflicted on him debilitated him for a critical few seconds. The new barriers collapsed while he struggled with fiery agony.

The warrior hefted his spear and threw.

Myac managed to regroup and deflect the weapon, though not before it touched flesh. The point drew a slit in his shirt and jacket and a shallow cut opened in the flesh beneath as his deflection knocked it to one side. Rage and pain spurred him to his feet. He thrust out with a wall of flame. The warrior staggered back when the flame engulfed him. The barrier that protected him the first time failing under this attack, but he made no sound when he fell to his knees, his skin melting with the intensity of the fire. Within seconds, he slumped forward, dead.

Now the wall around the doorway was burning and Myac could only stare, driven back to that moment in his youth. Was his mother outside that door? Was a beautiful demon waiting there to cut him down the way Yiloch had cut down his mother before him?

Thunder cracked loud overhead. Broken from the cocoon of memories by the noise, he forced himself to take one step at a time, moving around the burning corpse toward the doorway. Outside the inn, the screaming had already stopped. Was everyone dead, or had the attackers left?

Stepping into the doorway, he noticed first that it had already stopped raining. In the light of the fires, he saw a stocky, muscular man in the roadway. This man stood there, gazing around with dark eyes at the warriors who moved in and out of the burning buildings. Power rolled off him, not just from confidence and authority, but from ascard as well.

He was not the only powerful ascard user in the horde. Another man stood next to him and the ascard power that flowed off him spread out in different directions, stronger than anything Myac could fathom. He realized, standing there dumbstruck by the immensity of the power coursing around him, that the adept wasn’t wielding his own power. The power he controlled bore the signature of hundreds of other adepts.

Shuddering at the implications, Myac reached out, erecting a barrier around the first man with the intention of crushing him, but when he tried to close it in, nothing happened. The man turned, his gaze locking on Myac where he stood in the burning doorway of the inn. With no show of concern, the man touched the arm of the adept controlling the combined power and that one also turned toward Myac. Frowning, the adept pushed outward with ascard, effortlessly blasting away Myac’s barrier around the other man. Myac staggered and the first man smiled. He never opened his mouth to issue an order, but the three nearest warriors turned, dropping whatever task they were about and heading toward Myac.

Fighting panic, Myac lashed out with ascard, manifesting three spears of power that appeared in the chests of the three men, dropping them where they stood. The first man scowled then and another two warriors turned their attention to Myac. He struck out again, but this time his power failed, meeting up against protections of combined power that flared up around the warriors. Myac drew the sword he carried. His skill with the weapon was unimpressive at best, but it was his only weapon outside of ascard power. Fear filled him, greater than any fear he had felt since that moment his burning house collapsed on him so long ago.

Back then, he expected to die in the burning debris. Now, like then, he wasn’t willing to sit back and let death take him. The first warrior reached him and swung his short, bladed spear. Myac swung to block the attack. The impact of the weapon reverberated through his body and pain burst through his chest. He staggered back and fell, looking up in time to see the warrior grin. Then the front wall of the inn collapsed on the warrior. Burning debris rained down around Myac and he scrambled back like a crab, trying to escape the collapse. The remaining structure groaned and smoke filled the air, thick and suffocating. A deafening crack provided warning as the rest of the structure gave.