Harbinger: Fate's Forsaken: Book One (15 page)

“I don’t
remember every word.”

“They say a
Wright can read something once, and remember for the rest of his life.”

So they were
back to this, then? Well it was too blasted hot for an argument: he’d end this
nonsense once and for all. “I’m not a Wright, and I’ll prove it.” He threw the
book and it landed next to her elbow. “Read a few sentences — if you can
read, that is — and if I’m a Wright, I’ll be able to tell you what
sentence comes next.”

She sat up and
opened the
Atlas
across her lap. “Oh,
Sir Gorigan the Dragonslayer
. Well,
if this isn’t the biggest crock of —”

“Just read it,”
he said through gritted teeth. He liked this story, and didn’t want to hear her
talk badly about it.

She seemed to be
fighting back a smile as she began. “
Of
all the terrible creatures, none was greater than the mighty dragon. With his
serpent body clad in iron scales, his teeth the length of swords, and fiery
breath with enough heat to singe your knickers off
—”

“No, it’s
enough heat to melt armor
,” Kael
interjected. “Stop fooling around. It’s not going to work if you don’t read it
correctly.”

She looked at
him from over the top of the book, but didn’t say anything. “
The dragons, in their lust for the realm,
swarmed upon the holds of men and invited them to dinner —”

“
And destroyed all they held dear
.” He
glared when she grinned. He couldn’t believe she wasn’t taking the story seriously.

“
The knights of the realm rose to fight, but
then they got bored
—”

“
But the dragon’s scales broke their swords
.
You aren’t telling it right!”

“So sorry. Ahem
…
only Sir Gorigan, ferret among men
—”

“
Fairest
.”

“
Wore spectacles for his sight
—”

He wrenched the
book from her hands and stuffed it back in his pocket. “
Didn’t give up the fight
, he
didn’t
give up the fight
! I know you don’t believe the stories, but you don’t have
to butcher them. They could be true — Sir Gorigan could have chased the
dragons away. Have
you
seen a dragon
lately? Because I know I haven’t.”

He stomped down
the path, determined to put as much distance between them as possible. But it
wasn’t long before he heard her footsteps coming up behind him.

“I don’t want to
talk to you.”

“I’m sorry,
truly I am,” she said. He didn’t look at her, but she sounded sincere. “I was
just having a bit of fun. I had no idea the stories meant so much to you. Next
time I’ll tell it right.”

He shrugged
because he didn’t want her to think he cared. But the truth was that he cared
very much.

It would have
sounded ridiculous if he said it aloud, but in his head he thought of Sir
Gorigan as a close friend. When the other children wouldn’t play with him, he’d
found refuge in the world of stories. He would escape between the pages and
imagine himself fighting alongside warriors like Sir Gorigan, slaying dragons
and saving the realm. In many ways, the heroes he read about were the only
friends he’d ever had.

But he would die
before he admitted it to Kyleigh.

They walked for
another hour in silence. It didn’t take long for his anger to fade, and soon he
was back to thinking darkly about the weather. Sweat gathered around the collar
of his shirt, making it itch more than usual. Or perhaps it was because his head
swiveled to the left and right so often that it tickled.

Every bush,
every crop of trees was a potential threat. He strained his eyes and watched
for any sign of movement. He gripped his bow so tightly it made his fingers
hurt. But he wasn’t going to let the bandits take them by surprise. If he let
his guard down for half a second, they might spring out, rob them blind, slit
their throats and leave them for the crows.

But a while
later it began to feel like he worried over nothing: they hadn’t come across
another soul all afternoon. Then they climbed a gentle hill, and what they saw
below shattered their peace.

A large caravan
sprawled out on the flat ground beneath them. Six covered wagons made a circle
around the smoldering remnants of campfires, each stamped with the great
twisting oak of the Grandforest. Dark-haired forest men swarmed all around
them, calling to each other as they rushed to pack their camp.

“I wonder if
they’d let us follow along for a bit?” Kyleigh said.

He thought that
was a horrible plan. “You can’t be serious. For all we know they could be
bandits disguised as merchants. Or rogue mages, or assassins, or slave traders,
or —”

“Terrible,
bone-crunching rabbits! Oh, come now,” she said when he glared at her. “They’re
only merchants. Besides, traveling with a caravan will keep us safe from the
real
bandits — and whatever other
nonsense you’re worried about.” And before he could stop her, she strode
purposefully down the path.

“I still think
we should be careful,” he grumbled as he followed. “Rogue mages are a real
concern, you know. I’ve read all about them.”

He wasn’t sure,
but he thought he saw the side of her face crease in a grin.

The forest men
were so busy packing that no one noticed them approach. When they were within
shouting distance, a man on a black horse finally spotted them. He galloped up
the hill and reined in his horse an arm’s reach from Kael, barring them from
the path. He didn’t say anything for a moment. His stern blue eyes flicked over
the pair of them while he stroked impatiently at his regal, gray-tinged beard.

“You’re nearly a
day late,” he finally said, his voice every bit as serious as the slick crop of
his hair. “I sent word to the Earl over a week ago, requesting an escort. What
if we’d been attacked by bandits? Would His Earlship have compensated me for my
stolen goods? He probably just sent the two of you to search our bodies.
Kingdom knows he’s already swindled me. For all the gold I paid, I should have
gotten a small army, not a pair of children —”

“We aren’t
children — sir.” Kael added that last bit quickly, when the man raised
his brows in dangerous arcs.

“Not children?
Well a full-grown man would know how to tell time,” he huffed. The horse
snorted in agreement, blowing its hot breath through Kael’s hair. “You’ve put
my whole caravan behind, and now we’re in danger of missing the market. How do
you propose we make up the difference? Gold doesn’t fall from the sky, you
know.”

Kael didn’t know
where gold came from, but he was fed up with this pompous man and his smelly
horse. He was about to tell him exactly where he could put his difference when
Kyleigh stepped in.

“You’re right.
And if we miss the market, you can take the difference from our wages,” she
said.

The anger left
the man’s face immediately. “Well, I’ll agree to that.” He crossed his arms
over his slightly protruding belly. “I’m rather impressed — your sort
usually doesn’t admit wrong, much less remedy it. And what do I call you?”

“I’m Kyleigh,
and this,” she nudged him, “is Kael.”

He nodded to
each of them in turn, then swept a hand to his chest. “I’m Garron the Shrewd, a
merchant of the Grandforest. Don’t call me Mr. Shrewd — it gives me
indigestion. Stick with Garron, for now.” He jerked the horse towards the
caravan. “Take your packs and fall in the with the rest of the men. Quickly,
now — we haven’t got time for dawdling!”

Kael waited
until he galloped out of earshot — then he swore. “Perfect. Now he thinks
we work for the Earl. And what happens when the
real
escorts show up? Do you think
Mr. Shrewd
is just going to let us get away with it?” He turned
towards the caravan, where he could hear Garron laying into some poor man who
wasn’t moving fast enough. “He’ll probably tie us to the back of that devil
horse and drag us till our skin comes off.”

Kyleigh raised
her eyebrows. “That’s quite inventive, actually. But I don’t think we have to
worry about the escorts showing up. Earl Titus is dragging the better part of
his army through the mountains, remember? And he’ll have left the rest behind
to defend the castle.”

He immediately
felt foolish. He should have thought of that. “I suppose we
would
be doing Garron a favor, if we
went along …”

“Exactly. He
needs escorts, and we need safe passage through the Valley. See?” She clapped
him on the shoulder. “We haven’t been with them five minutes and you’re already
learning something about trade.”

“It still
doesn’t seem entirely honest.”

She shrugged.
“It never is. Now, are you coming or not?”

“Okay. But if we
get caught —”

She grabbed him
by the arm and pulled him forward. “Then you can say
I told you so
— right before they hang us by our own
entrails.”

Garron
the Shrewd had tied up his horse and was marching among the carts, barking
orders, when they arrived. The air around him must have been charged with a
shock: everywhere he went, men leapt off their rumps and scrambled to find a
task. They secured fastenings, loaded equipment, and doused fires —
anything to avoid the sharp edge of his tongue.

He was in the
middle of inspecting a cartwheel when a pretty young woman flitted to his side.
His stern expression melted away as he caught her in his arms and kissed the
top of her head. They talked for a moment, and then he turned and pointed.

The young woman
spun around and caught Kael watching her. He tried to dart behind one of the
carts, but ran into Kyleigh instead. It was like running into the side of a
house.

“Are you all
right?” she asked, grinning, as she helped him off the ground. She read the
panic on his face and her hand went immediately to her sword. “What is it?” Her
eyes shot up the path … and found the girl.

She burst out
laughing.

Before Kael
could stop her, she waved. The girl waved back, and all too soon she was
running towards them.

Her powder blue
dress made the clothes the Tinnark women wore look like rucksacks with holes
cut out the top. It fell lightly to her feet and flowed out as she ran. When
the breeze caught her skirts, they curved more tightly to her body, revealing
her figure.

Kael turned red
before she even reached them.

“Papa told me
you’ve just arrived. Welcome to our caravan! You may call me Aerilyn,” she
said, her clear blue eyes lighting up with her smile.

Kyleigh took the
hand she offered and introduced them.

“It’s so
refreshing to have new faces among us. Shall I give you a tour of the caravan?”
Aerilyn looked at him, and he pretended to be very interested in watching the
merchants latch a team of horses together.

“Of course. I’m
sure we’d find a tour very helpful,” Kyleigh answered.

“Excellent.” She
looped her arm through Kyleigh’s and waved for Kael to follow.

Except for
Aerilyn and Garron, the rest of the caravan was full of dark-haired, dark-eyed
forest men. Kael had a difficult time telling one man apart from the rest, but
Aerilyn knew them all by name.

The men would
smile when she approached, as if they knew she was about to brighten their day.
At first, Kael thought she was a silly girl. But the more she talked, the more
he realized that she was surprisingly clever. Nothing any of the men said could
catch her off guard. If they teased her about her dress, she would toss her
golden brown hair and pipe back with something about their trousers. Kael
thought some of her banter bordered on insulting, but the smiles couldn’t have
been any wider.

The men shook
Kael’s hand when she introduced them, but their eyes stayed on Kyleigh. Even
the most talkative man could only sputter when she smiled. In fact, there were
so many open mouths in the caravan that Kael actually began to worry for the
fly population.

Perhaps if they’d
known how thoroughly annoying she could be, they wouldn’t have gaped at her so.

Aerilyn’s tour
lasted longer than was probably necessary. Even after Garron bellowed the order
to move out and the carts began to roll, they pressed on. She’d just shown them
around the tannery cart when a roguish-looking fellow came out of nowhere and
wedged himself in between them. He seemed older than Kael by a few years, but
his lopsided grin made him look more childish.

Aerilyn groaned
when she saw him, an involuntary smile bent her lips. “This is Jonathan,” she
said, waving to the rogue. “He’s our resident fiddler and mischief-maker. He’ll
be in trouble at every stop from here to Midlan, I guarantee it.”

Jonathan’s laugh
carried like a thunderclap. Several people ahead of them turned to look in
annoyance. “I’d stay at home if they didn’t toss me out every year to go
merchanting with the likes of you,” he said.

“I don’t think
the village could survive without these six months to clean up your mess,” Aerilyn
retorted.

Jonathan
shrugged at Kael, as if the two of them shared a common problem. “I get bored
trying to keep myself out of trouble. A man without a hobby is just a crow
without a scarf — that’s what I always say. Anyways,” his gaze turned to
Kyleigh, “aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Aerilyn rolled
her eyes at him. “This is Kael.” Jonathan grabbed his hand and shook it
vigorously, grinning like a madman. “And this is Kyleigh.”

When Jonathan
brought her hand to his lips, Kael thought he was as good as dead. But even
after he winked, she did nothing but laugh. “I’d act offended, but I don’t
think that would put you off any.”

Jonathan shook
his head gravely. “No Miss, ‘twould only encourage me. Now then,” he narrowed
his eyes at her, “you have a gift for music, don’t you? I know a fellow
musician when I see one.”