Silent Kingdom (16 page)

The pleas in my head sounded eerily like the ones I’d once offered up for my uncle.
Life-Giver, if you’ve ever listened to me, listen now and spare Avrik
. A dozen awful thoughts flitted through my head as I imagined Avrik trying to fight off the sedwa.
I will do anything you want, but do not take my friend.

Some of the snow drifts were so huge that I sank waist-deep into them and crawled out wet and shivering. I slipped and stumbled over patches of ice, sometimes snatching at a tree branch to catch myself. The twigs clawed at my face as the forest closed in around me, the sky all but disappearing under a patchwork of gnarled branches. Darkness deepened and clouds gathered over the moon, hiding everything except a few lone stars. My breath was loud and ragged in my ears; snapping twigs echoed in the quiet, but I heard no other sounds, no sign that either the sedwa or Avrik were near. In the shadows, the forest was silent.

At last my lungs screamed for air and a persistent stitch in my side forced me to a walk. Sweat snaked down the back of my neck but the chill breeze rattling through the branches quickly made me shiver. Gradually the trees thinned out again and I found myself in another clearing, this one even larger than the last. I stopped and tried to search the blackness, but it was impossible to see far into the night. My fingers trembled as I brought them close to my face, yanked off my shooting gloves, and blew warm air over them.

Then, without the warning of approaching footsteps, I heard a man’s voice ahead of me. “Who is there?”

I started, my heart leaping in fear, until I realized the voice was familiar. Kyrin. Had he found his son? Hope flooded through me. I rushed forward, but paused in the middle of the clearing when I saw the figure standing amongst the trees. The man was alone, armed with his bow, and as he plodded toward me under the open sky, a patch of starlight fell on his face.

Although it had been four full years since the last incident, it happened again: a revelation came to me, hitting me with the force and suddenness of an unseen blow.

Kyrin was in a small side room set apart from the main dining room at the inn, sitting at a table across from a member of the Royal Guard. Firelight from the hearth beside them flickered off their faces as Kyrin leaned forward.

“I have lost enough in this life. I’ll do anything to keep my son safe, to ensure he is never called to war.”

The guard pulled an envelope, marked with the royal seal, the dragon

Vehgar, from his cloak pocket. “Then I have a mission for you from the king. He is willing to pay handsomely for it and will never call on Avrik to join his army, in exchange for your silence. One word about this to anyone else—including your son—and you will die.”

The scene shifted. Deep in the forest, Kyrin crouched in one of the trees, his dark cloak pulled closely about him to help him blend into the shadows. He tugged on his bowstring and released an arrow—letting it fly toward the golden eyes gleaming back at him from the blackness.

My eyes jerked open.
My visions have returned!
And just as before, I could not hold back the truth once it came to me. My voice squirmed up my throat and slithered across my tongue, coming out in a raspy whisper. “You are hunting the sedwa for the king.”

The words cut through the air, sharper than the edges of the icicles clinging to the trees. I blinked and bit my lip, dumbfounded at the sound of my own voice.

Kyrin stopped midstride. Snow dusted the scruff on his chin and melted in his hair, brown mingled with grey. A sneer twisted his lips. “So, you’re not a mute after all. Look who else has been keeping secrets.”

Mouth dry, I groped for the arrows in my quiver, but to my horror I found I was down to one. I hadn’t thought to pause to fill my quiver before chasing after Avrik.

Kyrin strung an arrow to his bow, and my shaking fingers responded by notching my last arrow to mine. “The sedwa haven’t bested me; do you think you can?” he demanded.

Before I could react, he released his arrow and pierced my right arm. Pain screamed through it. Jerking back, I lost my grip on my bowstring, sending my arrow soaring high until it landed harmlessly behind Kyrin.

Groaning, I dropped my bow and staggered backward. My pulse crashed against my ears and I resisted the urge to claw at the arrow in my arm as searing pain roared all the way up to my shoulder and down to my fingertips.

Kyrin lowered his bow with a gloating smile. “Out of options?”

My mind felt paralyzed with fear and pain, but one thought echoed through my head with piercing clarity:
Run
.

CHAPTER 10

S
pinning around, I sprinted back into the forest, snapping twigs and skidding on ice. He was all but silent behind me, possessing the surefooted, swift pursuit of a hunter, until I felt strong arms grasp mine and jerk me backward. One of his hands caught at the arrow in my arm, breaking the shaft and making blood ooze from the wound. Screaming, I squirmed, yanked myself free, and tumbled into the snow.

Kyrin snatched my hair in his fist and dragged me through the snowdrifts. I cried out and clawed at his arm, but he didn’t let go until we were back in the clearing. My scalp burned, my head ached, and my arm throbbed and left a bloody trail in the snow. I stared up at sky, tracing the sharp edges of the tree limbs clawing at it, as if desperate for escape from this world. I cringed as Kyrin bent over me, a coil of rope in his hands.

“It’s unfortunate you chose to run into the forest at night. Lyanna and Rev will be worried sick about you, and Avrik will miss you, but sadly, by the time I find you deep in the forest where you lost yourself, it will be too late. I will discover your mangled body, just as I found that guard’s years ago.”

I struggled, punched, kicked; I even spit in his face, but he was twice my weight and his work was effortless. He bound my arms behind me, tying one end of the rope around my wrists and the other around the trunk of the nearest tree.

After years of being mysteriously mute, I wasn’t sure if my voice would still be there now. Perhaps it had only returned to deliver my most recent fatal message. To my surprise, when I tried, the words fell easily from my lips. “How can you do this?” I shouted, my voice cracking in the frigid air. I yanked futilely against the rope. The trunk trembled, shaking the branches and dusting me with snow. “You’re endangering your own son! He is out here somewhere, being attacked by one of the sedwa, because of
you
.”

“You should know that I, of all people, know how to find and protect my own son. He will return home safely tonight. I am giving him food and shelter and ensuring us protection from the king and his guard; he will never be called upon to enter the war. As for the lives I endanger…I hold no allegiance to the hateful people of Evren.” His steamy breath followed his words, ghostly in the silver light glancing off the snow. “And no matter what you mean to Avrik, I will let you die before I see his own life in danger.” For a moment, his gaze seemed almost to soften. “It is a shame he will have to lose you. But think of it as an honor, Elena, to die to save the life of a friend.”

Then he was gone, winding his way through the trees, leaving me breathless, without a single retort on my lips.
Of course. Of course he would do this for Avrik. He would do anything for Avrik.

Exhaling slowly, trying to still the racing of my heart, I watched my breath escape, rising in the dim light. The snow under my cloak dissolved into icy water that seeped all the way to my skin. I tugged and strained against the rope until my left arm ached almost as much as my right and my wrists were raw and bleeding nearly as much as my wound. Minutes stretched into hours and the night deepened. Trying to shut out the eerie silence and the memories of the sedwa, I collapsed in the snow. Not an owl, not a squirrel, not a single animal showed itself or made a sound. It was too quiet, even for a night in the dead of winter.
Never a good sign.

I imagined something lurking among the trees nearby, something with claws and fangs.
This is not how I want to die.

Abruptly, my fear and despair erupted into anger and I screamed at the sky.
All those years of silence, all those years without visions or a need to share the truth…they did nothing to save me. Why did I suddenly have to speak now? Where did my voice go, and why did it return?

The waiting was the worst. My half-hearted hope that Shilam and Bren were safe and would come searching for me faded.
Even if they are looking, what are the chances they’ll find me in time? And what if they are hurt or…

Or worse?

I lay shaking in the snow, wet, freezing, and terrified. As the dark clouds swirled overhead, they covered what little starlight I’d had and deepened the night from charcoal to black.

A noise shattered the silence and my head snapped up. I scanned the trees ahead fruitlessly. Though I could not see anything, I knew I wasn’t alone. Something was breathing, its slow, heavy exhalations nearly matching my own, nearly fading into the night without a trace and leaving my mind wondering if I were imagining the sound. But I was not. The sound of its breaths continued, rising and falling, and the sounds were coming closer.

My teeth chattered. I scrambled to my feet and yanked against the rope again. More snow. More of the rope digging into my raw, bleeding skin.

Then I saw it: a huge, four-legged shadow lurking at the edge of the trees. No sound escaped my mouth. I was weaponless, bound, and defenseless; there was nothing I could do to save myself. I bowed my head and squeezed my eyes shut in a pathetic attempt to block out the paralyzing fear.
It’s not real, it’s not…

But I knew pretending could not stop the attack.

A heavy, scaly mass collided with my chest and shoved me back into the snow. I heard a scream spear the air before I realized it was coming from my own mouth. In seconds, my brain registered several facts, as adrenaline heightened all my senses. Hot breath tickled my cheek, sending chills rolling down my back. Pain from several points—the sedwa’s claws—digging deeply into my chest began to radiate outward, and the weight of its body was so great I thought my lungs were being crushed, my breath coming in shallow gasps, my head spinning. The snow beneath me was so cold it burned my skin. Sweat trickled across my temple, toward my ear. I’d landed on my hands, bound and pinned beneath me, but the rope tying me to the tree had snapped. My eyes sprang open to the sight that had haunted my nightmares: golden orbs, with pupils like wide slits into a bottomless abyss, glared back. Dark fur bristled along its neck. The sedwa’s scaly black jaw opened to reveal its yellow fangs, dripping with warm, rancid saliva that dribbled onto my cheek.

With a grunt, I kneed the creature in its stomach. The sedwa only responded with a snarl and swiped one of its paws at my face. I turned my head in time and its claws brushed air.

I refused to accept my fate. I would not die. Not now. Not here.

As suddenly as the sedwa landed on me, the weight lifted from my chest. I opened my eyes to see it hunched several yards away. It snarled but kept its body low, fur bristling and scales flashing in the moonlight. As I watched, it slowly backed up, like a terrified animal that knew it had met its match. I blinked in confusion. Was it retreating?

Then I realized that it was not even looking at me, but glaring at something behind me. My blood ran cold. I scanned the ground, searching for a rock, a branch—anything I could attempt to grasp with my bound hands and use to defend myself. If I had to die, I would die fighting as a daughter of kings, heir of the great Eldon, and not as a child, whimpering and wounded in the snow.

With a cry I wrenched myself into a sitting position and glanced over my shoulder. The dark form of a man stood motionless behind me. As I squinted in the darkness, I could not make out any weapons strapped to his belt or back, and his hands, clenched into fists at his sides, held no blades; but all manner of daggers and knives could easily be concealed within his cloak or boots. A hood hung low over his face, shrouding his features in shadow and making his expression inscrutable. All I could discern was the strong line of his jaw, his head held high as he stared in the direction of the sedwa—or me. Though his clothing was tattered and weatherworn and he wielded no visible weapons, his mere presence radiated something mysterious and powerful; something that made my tongue cleave to my mouth and my breath catch in my chest, something that made the moments slow and the very air about me seem to still.

I heard another growl and dared to turn back toward the sedwa as it slunk away into the woods. Had the man done that with a mere look? I wanted to look brave to mask my fear, but my body trembled.

What sort of man could wield power this fearsome, that a mere look could send monsters fleeing before him?

“Halia!” a voice cried.

I jerked in shock.
My name, my real name. How…?

Striding forward, the stranger knelt beside me. He threw back his hood to reveal short brown hair sweeping over a brow crinkled with concern. Several days’ worth of stubble dotted his face. His complexion was tanned, as if from frequent exposure to the sun, and the scent of the forest was strong on him: it was a pleasant aroma, comforting rather than repelling.

“One instant more and the sedwa would have killed you.” He touched my forehead, brushed the hair back from my face. Though my heart thudded against my chest and I studied him warily, his touch was gentle. My fear dissipated and relief washed over me; his manner told me he meant no harm. I was safe.

He reached down to the wound in my arm and without warning, plucked the remains of the arrow from it. I opened my mouth to protest, but as I did, the pain melted away. Where the wound had been, only a tear in my sleeve and a small white scar remained.

Questions tumbled through my brain.
Who are you? How did you do this? Where did you come from?
But somehow I felt I should know the answers already and did not dare ask them. If I could think hard enough, maybe I would remember, but every answer that flitted through my brain seemed more impossible than the last: a sorcerer? I had never heard of such power, not outside tales. Someone who had unusual powers such as I did?

Instead, I whispered, “You saved my life.”

“It was not yours to lose,” the man responded. A smile spread across his lips, lit up his face, and crinkled his eyes. “Your time isn’t over yet. There is much left for you to do.”

And the answers came to me: as naturally and easily as if I’d known them all along. Perhaps I had. Somehow, impossibly, this man was the Life-Giver, and he meant for me to use the visions and knowledge I had been given. “But my words are dangerous,” I protested. “And—and my visions. I cannot control them, or stop myself from speaking the truth when I shouldn’t. I do not even know how they came to me…I hoped you would explain…”

The man smiled again, his dark eyes shining in the starlight. “You will learn about it all in time; it is something for you to discover and master on your own.”

Sighing, I frowned back up at him, dissatisfied with his answer, but he merely shook his head and continued gently. “Your words are a gift, though few want to listen to them,” he said. “The real danger comes from the words they
are
listening to.”

The king’s lies.
This was a revelation I felt no urge to vocalize, and there was peace in that.

He nodded his assent, as if he had heard my thought. “Truth has been silent in your kingdom far too long.”

Instead of feeling relief in knowing I had received my gift for a purpose, in having a few answers at last, I was only frustrated. “Why has my knowledge of the truth been gone for so long? And why couldn’t I speak for years? I was mute!”

The man’s eyes seemed dimmer with sadness. “Sometimes we think we are held back by an obstacle, when our fear is what created the obstacle.”

I frowned, letting the meaning of his words sink in. “It was my own fault I was mute. But if I could not control my gift before, how could I hold it in and choose not to speak?”

“You may not yet know how to control your gift, but you can refuse it. And in your fear, you did.”

My mind flitted back to that night long ago, when in fear and anger I’d cried out to the Life-Giver, pleading, wishing not to speak again. “But more and more, I have longed to speak again,” I said thoughtfully. Perhaps I had warmed to the idea of my gift more as I’d wished for answers. “But even when I can speak, I don’t know how to share the things I know. If I go home and share them, I will die and nothing will change.”

The man shook his head. “Don’t be afraid, Halia. You will not be alone.”

I sat up as anger flared in my chest. I’d gone years without answers and with little comfort, and this is what he had to say? “Alone?” I snapped. “I’m always alone! I never have words to speak the thoughts trapped in my head. Or I have all the right words at the wrong time!”

Then as quickly as the anger appeared, it vanished and shame crept in to replace it. This man was the Giver of Life himself, and he had saved mine. What was I doing? I opened my mouth to blurt out an apology, but he stopped me.

“It’s forgotten. Now it’s your turn to forget: your fear, your doubt.” He studied my face. “Is it really the fear of death that you struggle against, or fear of the burdens and pain you carry? Fear that you are insufficient? Are you ready to face your past?”

I avoided his gaze, staring off into the shadowy forest. I swallowed. “I—I don’t know. I have no wish to die. Everyone struggles to face death.”

“Some struggle to face life most of all.” Standing, he reached out a hand and helped me to my feet. “But possessing the courage to live brings its own rewards. If you wish to truly help the ones you care for, overcome your fear and use your gift of knowledge.”

As I let go of his hand, the world tipped and my vision blurred, but everything quickly righted itself. I scanned my surroundings in wonder. To the east, the sky was brightening and the stars were fading, melting in the gathering light of a swiftly approaching day. Though the air had been frigid earlier, I felt warm.

Then I remembered the man’s words. How was I supposed to use my gift? How exactly could I save Gillen, Velaire, and my people? I turned back, but he had vanished.

In the moments before dawn, the earth lay still and silent.