Where Serpents Strike (Children of the Falls Vol. 1) (22 page)

“Why don’t they like people from Edhen?” he
asked.

“The old man says it’s because there’s too
much evil there.”

Khile’s brows drew down. “‘Too much
evil?’”

Lia shrugged.

“Have you seen any black vipers?”

“No, but a farmer came by and delivered a
pig yesterday, and I overheard him telling the old man that black
vipers were in West Galori.”

Khile took another sip of his soup.

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Mm–hmm,” he said, in between slurps.

“Could you, I mean, would you, if you don’t
mind, um, where did you, you know, um…”

“Spit it out, kid.”

She sighed, irritated by her own hesitation.
“Who trained you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Where did you learn to fight?”

He thought for a moment as he scraped the
sides of his bowl. “Lots of places, I suppose. Why?”

“Because I want to learn to fight, and I was
wondering—”

The door to the bedroom thumped open,
startling Khile and Lia. In the doorway stood an imposing elderly
fellow with short white hair that stood straight up on his head.
His face, haggard and stern, bore many lines of age, but his eyes
were alert and sharp. He regarded Khile with a scrutinizing gaze
for several long moments.

“Sorry if we woke you,” Lia said.

The man stepped into the room, a beeswax
candle in a clay holder out in front of him. He walked toward the
window in patched leggings and a tunic of faded gray. He yanked the
drapes across the panes.

“I told you, you are to not leave this
open,” he grumbled, his voice heavy with accent.

Lia winced. She hated being confined to such
a small room. She liked to look out the window because it soothed
her adventuresome spirit. Seeing the closed curtains gave her a
sense of claustrophobia.

“Black vipers find you here and we all in
trouble,” the old man said. “Understand?”

“I understand,” Lia said, though she didn’t
like it.

The old man walked to the foot of the bed
and eyed Khile once again. “You fever break, yes? This is
good.”

“Thank you for all that you’ve done,” Khile
said. “If not for you, we’d be—”

The old man waved his hand, his ratty sleeve
trailing threads through the air. “Yes, yes. You stay here until
you can walk, but you not go outside. No one must know you are
here. And you,” he said, pointing at Lia, “keep away from
window.”

Reluctant, she promised to obey, though she
knew full well that she couldn’t stay cooped up in this room for
months waiting for Khile to heal. She just couldn’t. She would have
to go outside at some point. Maybe at night when no one was
looking.

The old man stomped out of the room, closing
the door behind him.

Through the door came the muffled voice of a
woman who sounded irritated. The old man responded to her in a
soothing way and after a short while their voices faded.

“His wife?” Khile asked.

“And she’s a crotchety old gal.”

When Khile finished his soup Lia took the
bowl and spoon and returned it to the dresser.

Khile gingerly removed the pillows he’d been
reclining against and let his body lay prone once again.

“Where do you sleep?” he asked.

Lia motioned to a spot on the floor at the
foot of the bed. “Down here.”

Khile looked mortified. “My lady, I will not
have you sleeping at my feet.”

Lia snickered. His comment struck her as odd
because there were times when he spoke to her like a typical
commoner, with plain words and an almost cold disregard for her
former position as a princess. Then there were other times, such as
now, where he pretended to revere her.

“Did I say something funny?” he asked.

“Yes, actually you did.”

“What did I say?”

She thought for a moment before replying,
and then remembered some words that she had overheard Khile say to
Khalous as they were boarding the ships in Aberdour. It was a
phrase familiar to anyone who opposed the Black King, but one Lia
wasn’t convinced Khile clung to with any conviction.

“What does ‘For the west’ mean to you?” she
asked.

After a moment of thought, he said, “It’s
the rallying cry of all those who oppose the Black King.”

“So, were my father alive today, you would
stand with him? You would oppose the high king?”

Again, Khile hesitated, but she couldn’t
tell if it was because he was lying or just confused about her odd
line of questioning. “Yes, I would.”

“So you have much respect for the old
kings,” she said. “Then why do you talk to me like I’m a common
citizen one moment and a princess the next?”

“Ah. So that’s what this is about.” He
crossed his arms. “Because I disapprove of spoiled children who
don’t know their place in life.”

His words knocked Lia hard. “Excuse me?”

“It’s clear you’ve been raised by nursemaids
and servants and others waiting on you hand and foot,” he said.
“You’re smart, don’t get me wrong. I respect your wits, but you’ve
been sheltered emotionally and that makes you a danger to yourself
when you get all riled up.”

Lia began pacing at the foot of the bed,
trying to remain level despite the burning ire she felt deep in her
stomach.

Khile continued, “Like you are right now.
Like the way you attacked Komor Raven. He would have split you in
half, you know.”

“But he didn’t,” she said, biting back her
venom. “And he wouldn’t have. I’m too quick for him.”

“Right. You’re going to kill him. Sorry, I
forgot.” His sarcasm was evident.

“Yes!” she yelled, her fury spiking.

Khile snapped his fingers and pointed at
her. “That’s it right there. You can’t be reasoned with right now
because there’s steam pouring from your ears.”

Her mouth fell open and she considered
kicking him in the splint once again. He seemed to be attacking her
from out of nowhere, unprovoked even.

“You need to learn not to let your emotions
get the best of you.”

In a huff, Lia went down behind the foot of
the bed where Khile couldn’t see her and stretched herself out on
her bedroll. She folded her arms and glared at the ceiling. Deep
down, she knew he was right.

Then she peeled herself up off the floor and
shoved a finger toward Khile’s face, but when she realized she
didn’t actually have something to say she lay back down again in a
hot mess. She couldn’t believe he had the audacity to talk to her
like that—her, a spoiled child. Who did he think he was?

Khile’s voice drifted down over the foot of
the bed. “You know I’m only trying to provoke you, right?”

A bit of her temper evaporated. “Huh?”

“I provoked you to see where your head is
at. You want to learn how to fight? I’m not sure you’re ready.”

She jumped to her feet. “I’m ready. Believe
me, I’m ready.”

Khile lifted a quelling hand. “Maybe.” He
shifted uncomfortably. “Let’s discuss it in the morning.” He
relaxed into the bed and shut his eyes.

Though she was still disappointed, she began
to feel the bruising from his previous insults subsiding. With her
heart a mite calmer, she lay back down on the floor and rolled over
onto her side.

She wondered about what Khile had said, if
she was too naïve to know what she was getting into, too hotheaded
to be teachable. She didn’t think so. If anything she was
determined, and that made her even more teachable than anyone
else.

Sleep came over her early in the morning, a
light and uncomfortable sleep. She awoke to the sound of clops
against stone, a horse’s gentle amble. She heard the front door to
the cottage scrape open and slam closed, followed by the sound of
the old man as he addressed visitors outside.

Lia stood, groggy, and approached the window
when Khile’s hushed voice startled her. “Black vipers.”

She didn’t ask him how he knew this, but his
fearful expression convinced her that he believed it.

The door to the bedroom opened and the old
woman shuffled inside. She said nothing, but motioned for Lia and
Khile to follow her.

Lia helped Khile off the bed. He pressed his
teeth together from the pain in his leg.

“Wait,” he said, “your bedding. Hide
it.”

Without hesitating Lia grabbed her blankets
up off the floor.

“Drape them over the foot of the bed,” he
said. She obeyed.

Lia returned to his side and helped him out
of the room. They followed the old woman into a small, but cozy
home decorated with animal skins, antlers, and scented with
woodsmoke. On the floor lay a small timeworn rug that, when flipped
aside, exposed a hidden door. The woman frowned and jabbed her
finger at it.

Lia made sure Khile had a stable grip on the
rough-hewn kitchen table before hurrying forward to flip open the
door.

“No. Wait!” Khile whispered.

When Lia looked back at him, she noticed his
eyes were turned upward toward the exposed rafters of the
cottage.

“What are you doing?” she asked in an
irritated whisper.

“If you want to live, we hide up there,” he
said, pointing.

“Are you stupid? Do you want to—”

Khile shushed her and pulled a rickety
wooden chair out from the table. On his good leg he hopped up onto
the seat, wincing at the pain throbbing in his broken shinbone. He
took hold of the rafter, sending down tiny spindrifts of gray dust.
With some effort he pulled himself up. When he got into place among
the deep shadows of the ceiling he extended a hand down to Lia.

“Come up,” he whispered.

Lia looked at the trap door, then to the old
woman who was shaking her head.

“Trust me,” Khile said.

If it hadn’t been for the fact that he had
saved her life twice since she had known him, Lia might not have
climbed up onto the chair and grabbed his hand. As he pulled her up
and she hunkered down atop the rafter across from him, her limbs
were trembling.

The old woman flipped the rug over the
hiding place just before the cottage door scraped open sending a
widening band of daylight across the hardwood floor. The sound of
heavy boots stomped into the house.

“Ale,” demanded a soldier out of Lia’s field
of view.

From her position in the shadowy loft of the
building’s bones, Lia could only make out the soldier’s dusty black
boots. She watched them stomp into the bedroom where she and Khile
had been just moments ago. Lia was thankful that Khile had thought
to have her move her bedding off the floor. If the soldier had seen
it laid out like a bedroll he would’ve known that someone else was
in the house.

The old man entered the cottage and went and
stood next to his wife. He kissed the woman on the forehead and
whispered to her in Efferousian. Whatever he’d said, it seemed to
calm the old woman. She went to a creaky wooden rocking chair by
the fireplace and sat down.

The soldier stomped back out into the main
room.

“I said ale!” he repeated louder.

“Oh, she does not speak your language,” the
old man said. “I will get it for you, my lord.”

The old man moved into the kitchen and began
preparing a drink.

The soldier walked further into the house
with slow and deliberate steps. At first Lia could only see his
boots, but now she saw his black armored legs and the hem of his
long cloak trailing at his heels. He had a black belt with a silver
buckle that encircled a leather chest piece fitted with black metal
plates; everything clean and meticulously cared for.

He stepped up toward the old woman, bringing
his pale face and dark-haired head into Lia’s view. His cloak was
edged with a thick blue stripe, signifying his position of
captain.

“You do not speak my language?” he asked the
woman, glowering at her with dark brown eyes set deep under bushy
brows.

The old woman looked to her husband. He
repeated the question in Efferousian.

Looking back to the captain, the old woman
shook her head.

“What’s under there?” the captain asked,
pointing toward the small rug.

Lia’s jaw fell open in shock. Her eyes
darted toward Khile who pressed a finger to his lips. She wanted to
ask him right then how he had known the black viper would find the
hidden door so easily.

The viper flipped back the rug and stomped
on the square hatch.

“That is nothing,” the old man said from the
kitchen. “An old cellar for meat and wine.”

The captain lifted the door and inspected
the small compartment below. From what Lia could see of it the room
beneath was barely big enough for three adults.

With the toe of his boot the captain knocked
the door closed.

He stood for a moment directly under Lia.
She tensed. If he so much as lifted his gaze to the ceiling he
would likely notice the sleeve of her tunic or the hem of her pant
leg peeking out from behind the rafter.

The captain finished searching the house,
drank his ale, and stomped toward the door, the blue edge of his
cloak swirling behind him.

“Criminals from Edhen have fled to this
country,” he said. “Anyone caught helping them will be considered
an enemy of High King Orkrash Mahl.”

“Seems lots of criminals come from Edhen
these days,” the old man said.

“Do you know of any in this area?”

“No, my lord.”

“We have men stationed in Galori. See to it
that you report to them if you do.”

“I will, sir. Good day.”

Lia listened to the sound of the door close,
followed by the shouting of the soldiers outside. Their horses
snorted and neighed and tore up the ground as they rode away.

Lia affixed her eyes on Khile and asked,
“How did you know?”

He shrugged. “Lucky guess.”

Lia shook her head. “No. You’re one of them,
aren’t you? A black viper.”

“Let’s get down from here first.”

He lowered himself onto the chair. The old
man helped him to the floor.