Tears of War (2 page)

There was nothing to collect water in, just as there was nothing else in this wretched grassland. At least she’d finally left the desert behind. That had to mean something. Even the desert contained water. With this much grass there had to be water somewhere. Didn’t there?

Her teeth chattered as she started to walk again, only dimly aware of the pain in her feet. She had to keep moving or freeze to death. A ragged laugh burst past her lips. Already dying of thirst and now she had to worry about freezing to death.

Kalila contemplated which would be worse, freezing to death or dying of thirst. She already knew the pain of thirst. She’d heard stories of people freezing. It was said they fell asleep and never woke. Was it really that easy?

Kalila shook her head to clear her mind. Stupid thoughts to have. She’d made it this far. Her sister hadn’t broken her and Fates be damned if she’d let the grasslands break her either.

Her soaked dress clung to her legs making it difficult to walk. She stopped and looked down at the wet, torn skirt. So wet it dripped! Almost sobbing with relief, Kalila yanked the dress off the tiny buttons on the bodice scattered into the grass. She didn’t care if she ever had clothing again.

She tipped her head back and twisted the cloth above her mouth. Water trickled over her tongue. It tasted of dirt and fabric that had been worn too long. It was wonderful. Nothing had ever tasted so good. Her dry throat rejoiced at the moisture. She moved her hands to another area and squeezed more water from the rank material.

Shivers racked her soaked body. The wind lashed rain at her as if to punish her for thinking she could pass through this land unscathed. Kalila stood in it and accepted it, shifting to other wet areas of the dress. She wrung the precious liquid into her mouth until her legs, too weak to hold her any longer, gave out.

Thirst still nagged, but it was quieter now, partially sated. Her eyes closed against the cold storm and she burrowed into the grass. The shivering had stopped; that probably wasn’t good. It was okay though. She’d made her pact. She’d gained her freedom and a drink. The Fates had been kind. If they now wished her to die here, she couldn’t complain. She exhaled quietly as darkness settled over her.

Warmth wrapped around her and lifted her from the cold, wet grass. Her eyes drifted open. A dark sky, full of stars, stretched overhead. Distant voices called to rouse her from her stupor. Kalila couldn’t summon the strength to answer. Bright torchlight swam across her vision and the sharp brown eyes of a woman searched her face.

“Place her in my vardo, quickly,” the woman said, her voice strong despite her age.

“Yes, Shamam,” a male voice answered.

The night began to move again. Campfires and torches lit up the darkness. The light sent little needles into her eyes and she closed them. Rough hands laid her on something soft. The strong voice of the woman flowed around her. Floating in the twilight on the edge of consciousness, Kalila couldn’t quite understand what was said, but they sounded like orders. The softness under her rocked slightly and then warm hands were on her head. Something thick wrapped her in a cocoon.

She drifted in and out of sleep. As her body slowly warmed she began to feel the pain in her feet again. Her fingers and toes felt like they were on fire. She moaned. Why were they trying to set her on fire?

“Shh. It is best if you stay still.”

Kalila opened her eyes. A woman pulled away the thick blankets and replaced them with warm ones. The heat felt lovely except it increased the stabbing and burning in her fingers and toes. She tried to raise her arm, but the woman held it with surprising strength.

“I said to hold still.”

With effort Kalila found her voice, though it was little more than a whisper. “Who are you? Where am I?”

“We are Traders. One of our young men found you. I am their Shamam, their healer. My name is Madeir. You are in my vardo. There is some damage to your toes and fingers from the cold.” Her brown eyes searched Kalila’s. “Who are you and how did you come to be lying naked and nearly frozen on the Ash Plains?”

The Ash Plains. So she was somewhere between Shadereen and Calladar. She couldn’t have wandered into a more empty area. “I escaped. I was trying to get home.”

A furrow appeared between the woman’s eyes. “Escaped from where? Where is home?”

“Markene is home. I escaped…” How could she explain? Who would believe her? There were dragons again. Evil black dragons and multi-colored dragons that she didn’t think were evil like the blacks. How could she possibly explain that a mountain housed unspeakable evil if one traveled east several weeks by foot? This healer would think she was crazy. Kalila had to try. She had to warn them.

“I escaped from a place called the Kormai—”

Madeir’s sudden, sharp intake of breath stopped her. The healer leaned close, her eyes wide. “The Kormai?” The woman drew back briefly, fear flickering in her eyes. “What is your name? How do you know of the—” she paused and looked around as if afraid someone might be listening. Her voice lowered to a whisper. “How do you know of the Kormai?”

“I was captured and taken there.”

Madeir’s expression was full of doubt. “Your name.”

“I am Kalila, fourth daughter of the King of Markene.

Disbelief replaced the doubt on Madeir’s face. “You…how did you escape? How did you come by those scars on your arms and face?”

Kalila flinched at the memories the woman’s questions stirred. She looked away from the earnest brown eyes and stared at the ceiling of the vardo. “Shadows gave me the scars.”

“Shadows?” Confusion filled Madeir’s voice. “How did shadows…never mind. You don’t have to speak of it if you don’t wish.”

An uneasy feeling stirred in Kalila’s stomach. She slowly turned her head to look at the woman. “How do you know about the Kormai?”

Madeir took a deep breath. “I suppose I can tell you. Given what you know and what you are. I am a mage. I can use magic. I was trained in Galdrilene where dragons of beautiful colors live.”

Kalila stared at her. What was wrong with her that she kept running into people and things that shouldn’t be? Except the multi-colored dragons existed. Something the woman said tickled her mind. “What do you mean, given what I am?”

Madeir smiled, the action emphasizing the lines on her face. “My dear, I have been a senior mage for almost ten years. I can sense budding mages. From what I can sense, you have probably used magic at least once already.”

“What!” Kalila started to bolt up, but Madeir’s firm hands held her back; she wasn’t strong enough to fight. “I cannot use magic. I will not be evil. I will not become like my sister.”

Madeir shook her head. “You will not be like anyone but yourself. Your actions are yours to decide. Magic cannot decide your path for you. If your sister chose the darker path it is not the fault of magic. I have used it for a long time. Do you find me evil? Galdrilene can teach you to use your magic.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere or learn anything about magic. I want away from it. I want to go home.”

Madeir’s face softened. “Of course you do, child. It’s best if you learn to control your magic so you don’t harm others, but no one can be forced. You must always choose your path freely. Galdrilene will be there if you decide you are ready.” The healer stood and turned toward a small stove, its chimney pipe running out the top of the small box house on wheels.

Kalila didn’t answer. She didn’t use magic—that was insanity. Or was it? She recalled the feel of the air around her, alive while it moved across her skin with a feather-light touch. She remembered the air telling her someone was going to steal a book. She had tried to send a message on the air to the invisible person to wish them luck. Had that been magic? If it was, if she could use magic, then what? She should turn herself in for execution before she went insane from it.

Did magic really drive people insane? Sadira was most definitely mad. But what about the others? They were just evil. And then there was Taela, who seemed neither evil nor insane. Taela who had tried to escape with her gray draclet. Did she succeed? And what about the others? She’d seen them in the air in the distance, fighting Ranit and the other Shadow Dragons. Were they evil?

She couldn’t go home. Not if she might harm her family because she didn’t know what she was doing.

A delicious aroma filled her nose and pulled her from her thoughts. Madeir helped her sit and held a cup of steaming tea to her lips. Thirst overwhelmed her and she gulped the hot liquid, burning her tongue but not caring. The heat spread out as it settled in her stomach.

“Normally I would use a variety of herbs to heal your cold, damaged fingers and toes. Since you know I can use magic, would you oppose the idea of me using it to heal you? It will be far less painful. Luckily it was full dark before Tarin found you. He didn’t bother to look at any injuries, just wrapped you in his cloak and carried you to me as quickly as possible.”

The burning in her fingers, nearly forgotten during the discussion, now intensified as if just thinking about it made it worse. Did she want magic used on her? Kalila eyed the woman warily. She’d never seen magic that didn’t cause pain. She’d never seen healing that didn’t cause pain. The screams of the people Kovan had ‘healed,’ echoed through her memory. Would she ever be able to shut them out?

Madeir looked her full in the eyes. “I promise I will not hurt you.”

Kalila couldn’t suppress her trembling, but she closed her eyes and nodded.

Madeir laid her hands on her. Heat spread through Kalila’s body, gathering in her toes and fingers. The pain faded until it was gone. The heat moved to the cracked and lacerated soles of her feet. It rippled from her toes to her heels. The pain lessened until it was nearly gone. Then the heat receded.

She opened her eyes and looked at Madeir’s face. “Thank you.”

The healer nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for the soles of your feet. The damage in your fingers and toes was newer and hadn’t progressed however, most of the injuries to your soles are older. Injuries left too long don’t heal right. Perhaps a stronger healer could do better.”

“It was more than I expected. Thank you for everything.”

Madeir smiled. “You should rest.”

Sadira watched Oksana pace back and forth across the polished onyx floor. Alden stood silent against the wall, his red eyes tracking her every step. Even after several weeks, Oksana’s unreasonable grief and anger over her sister’s death still radiated from her. Not even the two clutches of eggs laid by Ranit and Dusa could calm her emotions.

Sadira found it amusing. She’d understand the anger better if it was focused on the right thing. She was also angry over a sister. Angry because the rotten piece of dragon-dung had escaped.

But Oksana’s anger was directed by grief. Sadira shook her head and hid her smile as the blonde glared at Alden with red-rimmed blue eyes. She wasn’t afraid of Oksana, but there was no point in provoking a fight with the woman. They didn’t need their numbers cut down any more than they already were and if it came to a fight, she would kill the blonde with no hesitation. Granted, they already had two more riders, but they were new and inexperienced.

Sadira turned her eyes on Alden. He shifted as if uncomfortable under her gaze. As well he should be. She broke the silence, controlling her voice. Calm and quiet would instill more fear than an emotional outburst. Oksana hadn’t learned that yet. “You are brave to come out of hiding Alden. After your…mishandling of the Silver Rider. You cost the Shadow Riders a lot with your assumptions.”

Alden’s skull-like features remained expressionless. “I had no way of knowing they would come in force. The Guardians stopped making rescue attempts long before the end of the War of Fire. There was no foreseeing the outcome.”

“No foreseeing!” Oksana’s shriek echoed across the massive cavern. She stepped up close to him, her voice filled with rage. “Your mistake cost Paylana her life. How dare you act as if none of this is your fault.” Her voice rose with each word. “You didn’t listen to me when I said we should leave the Silver rider in the desert. You didn’t listen later when I said we should kill her and be done with it. Now Paylana is dead. And
you
are to blame.”

Sadira laid a hand on the woman’s arm. “Easy Oksana, don’t kill him yet.”

Alden sneered as his red eyes settled on her. “Kill me? With what, your shadows?”