The Great Hunt (27 page)

“I told you, he will not hurt you,” came the accented female voice again, alluring and husky—perhaps Kalorian? “Now relax, girl, and tell me who you are.”

Aerity slowed their approach. As she got closer she released her sister to lean against the wall, and she found a gap in the door’s wood where she could look in. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dimness of the cavernous room. What she finally saw made her slap a hand over her mouth. At the wide entrance area, just inside the rickety old sliding door, was their guard, lying in a thick pool of his own blood. His head was wrenched to the side at an unnatural angle, his stomach torn open.

Vixie leaned in toward the gap and gave a small gasp, her face horrified. Aerity tried to block her view, but she knew it was too late. Her sister had seen the grotesque sight for herself. Aerity got close to Vixie, taking her ashen face in her hands, meeting her eye to eye. “Stay calm,” she mouthed. Vixie’s eyes watered as she nodded.

Hearing Wyneth fumbling for her voice, Aerity peered in again.

“I . . . I’m . . . L-lady Wyneth, miss.”

“Lady?” The woman’s voice was calm, even happy sounding. “As in a royal lady?”

Don’t tell her who you are!
Aerity wanted to scream.

“Y-yes. Wyneth Wavecrest.” Curses. Her cousin was rasping, terrified. From Aerity’s angle she could see her cousin’s profile through the gap, but not the other woman.

“Ah . . . it appears the luck of your seas is on my side,” said the woman, delighted.

Aerity heard another sound now, like the snuffling of a giant hog.

“Please, miss,” Wyneth begged, but the woman only chuckled.

“The winds have sent you right to me . . . exactly what I need.”

At Wyneth’s side, a giant creature with both hair and scales flopped itself down and curled up, bumping Wyneth’s hip, causing her to scream again and cover her mouth as she stared at it, trembling. Aerity and Vixie both jumped.

What on Eurona was it? Aerity stared, immobilized by fear.

“I told you, girl, he won’t hurt you. He’s trained to feed only from those with the scent of a grown man like that one who interrupted its sleep.”

This . . . oh, seas . . . this was the beast! And it had killed the guard, a good man with a family, a young son. Aerity, flooded with panic, swallowed back the urge to be sick. She had to help Wyneth. She had to get into that room, but this door was the only entrance into the warehouse area. Aerity looked up at the high roof. A weathered ladder was at the corner they’d passed, and sections of the roof were missing, caved in.

Aerity had to move fast. She held Vixie’s waist tightly, moving them back to the corner. She spoke in barely a whisper. “I’m going in.”

Vixie shook her head in panic. The girl’s eyes went up the ladder. “It’s not safe!”

“Hold it for me as best as you can while I climb. Then go to the shore and signal the hunters to come.” Vixie looked down at her sister’s leg. It was worse than she’d thought, gaping red muscle showing. A path of blood trailed where she’d walked. And the side of Vixie’s foot was swollen and bruised with scratches. Her face appeared drained, like she might pass out. Aerity wanted to tend to her, but there was no time.

Her eyes skittered around, searching for something she could use as a weapon, but all the fallen branches were too
brittle, too small. Finally, she saw a jagged rock the size of her fist. She quietly bent to pick it up and stood again, flattening herself to the wall. Vixie grabbed a nearby rock as well, following her sister’s actions. They squeezed the rocks into their pockets.

Aerity took hold of the ladder, giving it a gentle shake. Dustings of particles showered down. Aerity wiped her face and began to climb, testing each rung in her hand before applying weight. A few had to be bypassed. She looked down once to see Vixie’s frightened hazel eyes staring up at her as she held the ladder tightly, balanced on one foot. Good girl.

Aerity lifted herself gingerly onto the edge of the roof, which hadn’t fared well. She crawled to the largest gap of warped wood and lowered her head. A series of beams ran along the ceiling, crisscrossing. It was a far drop. Across the space, at the back of the warehouse, was a pulley system of ropes that’d been used to lift and lower crates. If Aerity could get to that, she could climb down. Her heart raced as she reached down for a beam, grabbing hold with her fingers and swinging her legs around.

The woman’s back was to Aerity; her hair was black and she wore a gown of the richest red. Wyneth was stock-still, continuing to stare down at the thing at her side. It seemed benign, harmless, but Wyneth’s face appeared ready to crack, her voice like shaken shards. “It . . . he . . . what do you mean
trained
?”

Aerity still couldn’t see the woman’s face, but her voice
sounded pleased, as if she was smiling. “All my life I have prepared, royal girl, to take back what is mine—my family’s, my peoples’. For years I watched my father create and fail, but he never gave up. He went to his grave, laughing with satisfaction when he had succeeded at last, not even caring that his own creation took his life. And then I began building on what he had started, allowing it to grow. Now . . . finally . . . I have succeeded.” The woman paused, and Aerity let the horror of her words sink in.

She carefully lifted herself onto the beam, as wide as her hand’s length, and began to move on her hands and knees. Her breaths felt so loud, but neither Wyneth nor the woman seemed to notice her. She hoped to the seas that if Wyn saw, she’d have sense not to bring attention to her.

“Why?” Wyneth rasped, her shoulders curling in. “Why would you make this thing? Do have any idea what your experiment has done?”

“Oh, yes. Our experiment has shown that my people still hold power, even when others tried to take it from us.”

Aerity moved lithely, glancing at her cousin between movements. Wyneth shook her head, horrified, trembling in terror. “Who are you?”

“These hands,” the woman mused, not answering. “They look feeble to you, no?”

Wyneth shook her head, took a step backward.

“Do not move,” the woman snapped. “I don’t need my beast to kill you. My own hands can do that easily enough.”
So the woman was Lashed. And insane.

Aerity’s mouth was dry. Her heart was wildly skipping beats, and her mind could hardly process what she was hearing. She had to act fast. With hesitation, Aerity looked down toward the guard, a sense of vertigo temporarily dazing her. This was higher than she’d ever climbed. Finally her senses righted and her eyes bypassed the guard’s mutilated torso, locking on the bow sticking out from under his back, the arrows that had half slid from their quiver.

Aerity needed to get to that bow, but she’d have to get past the woman.

“Who are you?” Wyneth repeated.

“Ah, yes. Soon, everyone will know. Now that I have you for bargaining power. I am Rozaria Rocato.”

Rocato? As in
the
Rocato? Aerity’s hand slipped, and she gripped the beam hard, wobbling. Slivers of wood fell as she flattened herself downward. She swore she saw Wyneth’s eyes go up, but her gaze dropped just as quickly.

“R-Rocato?” Wyneth gave a tiny sound of surprise from the back of her throat.

“You fear the name Rocato, do you?” asked the woman. “As you should. I am the granddaughter of Rodolpho Rocato, the greatest Lashed to ever live.”

No. Wyneth gave a strangled gasp. Aerity wanted to stay still and listen, but she had to move. She arrived at a junction in the middle of the ceiling. A vertical beam stood in her path. Aerity rose, flat-footed with her toes splayed for balance. She
had to crouch so as not to hit her head on the ceiling. She brought her arms around the beam and wound her leg around it until she felt the horizontal beam on the other side. Carefully, she slid her body around, shifting her weight.

The woman’s voice filled with dark glee. “Our blood is not diluted. The past five generations of our family have all been Lashed. My great-grandfather helped all the people in his town, and they showered him with gifts. That is how it was meant to be—symbiotic. My great-grandfather was overjoyed when his only son was called upon to be a healer of the royals.”

Again, Aerity lowered to her hands and knees to crawl. She wasn’t too far from the ropes now.

“If your great-grandfather and grandfather were so well and happy”—Wyneth licked her lips—“then why did Rocato kill the king? You speak of him like a hero. He was a murderer.”

“No! The government of Kalor was corrupt. Your books lie. The old king wanted to use the Lasheds’ power for his own gain, like work mules. He wanted to tax villagers who were helped by the Lashed. His plan was to own us, to make us his slaves.”

Aerity’s mind whirred. Was her father aware that Rocato had a son and granddaughter? Surely if those in charge of the kingdoms knew, they would have taken his family into custody all those years ago. Rocato had been captured and put to death after he killed so many people and rallied a civil war of Lashed against Unlashed.

“I didn’t know,” Wyneth said quietly. “But as awful as that was, Rocato killed everyone who stood in his path. Surely you can see that was wrong as well?”

“My grandfather was . . . passionate. Justice requires sacrifices.”

“Don’t speak to me of sacrifice,” Wyneth ground out, her voice getting stronger. Her shaky hands turned into fists and she glared from the woman to the creature sleeping at her side. “Your idea of justice was to kill the man I loved! I watched it happen!”

The woman sighed. “What you must understand, royal one, is that Unlashed men, with their fear and greed, are the root of evil in Eurona.”

“Breckon was not evil. He was a good man. You’re nothing but a murderer, just like your grandfather!”

Don’t make her angry!
Aerity tensed, waiting for the woman to attack, but the woman remained unnervingly calm. Aerity was close to the pulley now. She hoped it wasn’t rotted.

“You have been sheltered from the truth. You cannot possibly understand the cost of civility. When the scales of a civilization have been so severely uneven, they must tip in the opposite direction in order to eventually right the weight again. For over one hundred years the Lashed have suffered. Now the Unlashed must suffer. They must gain understanding and respect the hard way. Only then can the scales be even once again. I will make clear to everyone in Eurona the things my grandfather failed to teach.”

Wyneth shook her head. “No. No. Not like this. They were all innocent people.” Her voice cracked as she shouted. “How can you do this?! How can you create such suffering? This is madness. Why did you come here? Why did you bring your hate to Lochlanach?”

The woman chuckled. “The hate is already here. And I chose Lochlanach because your king is soft where other kings are harsh.”

“Our king is honorable,” Wyneth insisted with passion.

Aerity couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Her hands were trembling violently when she reached the pulley. The ropes were thick, but frayed by time.

“He allows his people to treat its Lashed with disdain,” Rozaria said. “With injustice, worse than rubbish.”

Wyneth breathed in loudly. “All of the kingdoms are like that. I know, that doesn’t make it right—”

“Not all kingdoms, royal girl. Kalor has improved on its own. Naturally. Our people understand the benefits of Lashed. Over time, many villages began to allow magic for healing. Prince Kalieno knows our worth. Though he dared not share his views with other kingdoms, he has lifted the ban on magic already, but he is swift to punish those who use it wrongly. He is a smart man. He has done well to rule while his father ails.”

At this, Aerity paused. Could it be true? Lashed were free to work magic in Kalor? Aerity fumbled for the rope, careful to keep her weight on the beam as she leaned. She gave the
rope a tug, and to her shock, it slipped completely from the faulty pulley. She barely grasped it in her hands in time to keep it from falling. Her breaths were loud as she righted her weight. Now what was she to do? It was too far to jump.

Wyneth’s voice and hands shook wildly as she spat, “I take it you don’t murder for fun in your own kingdom, then.” She took another step back.

“I’m warning you.” The woman’s voice took on a sinister edge. “One more move and I will wake my beast to stop you.”
No!
Aerity stared down as the woman made a sound from the back of her throat, like three clicks, and the beast quickly raised its head.

Quickly, Aerity pulled the rope with all her might, tying it around the beam with a double knot. Her arms burned and her hands stung. She wiped sweat from her brow.

Wyneth had gone still below. Aerity, panicking, lay flat against the beam and wound the end of the rope around herself, pulling it up and yanking it into a tight, double knot. The rock was heavy in her pocket, the sharp points pressing into her hip.

Aerity slowed her breathing, garnering her strength and concentration. She slid the lower half of her body over the edge, pressing her stomach against the beam. Her feet wound around the rope. It was thicker and rougher than her silks, but the concept was the same. She winced and grasped the rope, lowering herself slowly, with ease and care. She glanced over her shoulder, certain she’d be noticed midair, but nobody
looked her way. Wyneth must have spotted her by now, and Aerity was proud of her cousin’s cool demeanor in not giving her away. Aerity blessedly arrived at the dirty floor. Without hesitation, she hastened through old cabinets and crates toward the front of the room until she was close enough. She crouched behind a broken crate and pulled the rock from her pocket.

The woman continued talking. “Let me tell you what we are going to do now, Lady Wavecrest. I will send a letter to the king, letting him know I have you . . .”

Aerity had no plans to let her finish. She stepped out from behind the crate, her arm cocked back. Aerity felt momentarily stunned as she faced the black-haired beauty, whose bright blue eyes widened at the sight of the princess. Before the woman had a chance to wake the beast with her call, Aerity threw the rock with all her might. The rock flew, hitting hard, bashing the woman’s collarbone.