Wicked Path (The Daath Chronicles Book 2) (4 page)

While everyone flocked to Cael, I decided to check on Brushfire. She needed a run, and I needed to think. In the cover of night, couldn’t other people have confused the minted drink with water? Why did I stand out? And why was that such a big mistake to make?

Brushfire stood in her stall, her foot sweeping against the ground as I approached.

“Morning, girl.” I opened the latch and led her out. “How are you doing?”

I took the big wooden brush off the wall and stroked it against her skin. We’d been on a long journey together, from the grief of losing my brother, to the battle where we met Jericho, and then onto Daath. Things made sense when I rode Brushfire. She never judged and never disappointed. She was my heart in moving form.

I rubbed under her neck as I brushed her. “You ready for a run?”

She nudged me with her head and I patted her nose. “Me too.”

The forest near the temple was too dangerous and overgrown for Brushfire to navigate through, so, after an exhilarating romp, I left her by the brook that marked the entrance to the strange woods. I’d visited this place a few times since the fight with Lucino, hoping the scenery would trigger a memory, but nothing had happened.

Heat pressed all around me; sweat dripped down my face and soaked my shirt. Each time I inhaled, my chest tightened, and I had to wipe my palms off on my pants. I searched theawkwardly bent trees, dripping withmoss, for birds, or monkeys, or anything living.

Nothing.

Forests should never bethisquiet.

Nothing good thrived here.

I kept an eye out for the massive spider webs. Bugs didn’t scare me, but a spider bigger than my fist… The last time I entered this forest, I had seen one of the oversized spiders spin a bird between its legs. Spiders shouldn’t be that big!

Sunlight beamed onto the cracked white temple with two lizardmen sculptures guarding the entrance. With my bow ready, I waited, checking the area for visitors. When I heard nothing but my own breath, I crept toward the massive entrance.

My skin itched, as though a bug crawled around beneath my flesh, and the air tingled with a hum that vibrated through me. A few steps inside and my chest tightened. There never seemed to be enough air in this place.

The temple was empty. The large pit sat in the center, waiting to swallow anyone stupid enough to approach. I sat on the first step of the spiraled stairs that descended into the darkness, examining the void. My dagger vibrated, as it did every time I came close to this pit. My muscles tensed, and vertigo threatened to send me forward, but I fought it back.

Why couldn’t I stop thinking about this place? I needed to learn more about this temple; I just had to find someone willing to talk.

I placed my bow on the ground and took out my father’s dagger, examining the runes adorning the hilt. Their similarity to the runes carved into the temple floor raised too many questions—ones I had no answers to. My father rarely spoke of his war days, only that he’d served the king. How did a warrior fight beside the king’s men, then stop everything to raise horses and children? I no longer pictured myself working on a farm, not after everything I’d experienced.

Raven didn’t know I visited the temple every couple of days. I didn’t like lying to her, but she would probably tell me to let it go
.

Slipping the dagger back in its sheath, I took out the piece of vellum I’d been using to make reliefs and made sure I’d copied all of the runes from the floor, especially those that matched my dagger. I needed to know why the runes were on this dagger. Until recently, no one believed Daath existed, including my father. Had he lied? Had he known the truth all along?

Question after question attacked my mind. None of this made sense!

Satisfied I had every rune etched, I slipped the vellum back into my pocket and headed out.

Brushfire and I cantered around the flower fields where Daath cultivated their dye flowers. Every color splattered the green grass in a tumbling rainbow. It seemed a waste to spend so much work on dye, but Daath was a land of color and beauty, and I couldn’t argue when I’d see a girl walking around in one of Daath’s signature dresses.

When I arrived back to Jericho’s, the suns had set and Raven waited for me by the barn.

“Where have you been? I couldn’t find you.”

I slowed Brushfire and dismounted, then grabbed her reins. “Where’s your friend?”

“Washing up for supper.”

Brushfire snorted as I put her back into the stall.

Raven leaned against the stall door, petting Brushfire’s head. “Is everything all right? You seem distracted.”

“There was this girl at the festival,” I said. “She knew I wasn’t from Daath.”

“No one could know that.”

“She did.”

Raven shook her head. “No, Avikar. You need to stop being paranoid about every person. Lucino’s gone, and soon his guard will fall. Jericho’s men have a plan—”

“I need to leave.”

“What?”

“I need to go home, and I want you to come with me.” I grabbed her hands.

Raven turned her head away from me. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” I tugged her closer to me. “You said whenever I was ready to go home, you would leave with me.”

“I know… but…”

“But what?”

She faced me, and I searched her brown eyes, trying to understand what could possibly keep her here.

“We will, soon. I promise,” she said, a faint smile forming on her lips.

“Why not now? What’s so important we have to stay?”

“Cael just returned—”

I dropped her hands. “You want to stay because of
him
?”

Raven reached for me but I stepped back.

“It’s not what you think, Avikar. He’s like a brother to me and I haven’t seen him in five years.”

A brother, sure
. I shook my head and started walking out of the barn.

“Avikar!”

I wasn’t going to fight with her, not now. “We’ll talk later. I’m tired.”

Raven might have not believed me, but I didn’t care. I was leaving Daath. I just had to convince her to go with me.

ddly, Lucy had not come to visit me before her travels. I understood her frustration with what transpired at the temple, but that was merely a setback. My powers had strengthened even without Jeslyn’s essence, and with her alive, I could still infuse her golden aura with mine. If I could get her back to the temple, I could finish the ritual.

I would succeed.

The beaker in front of me gurgled with a foul smelling liquid. “Really, Romulus, must you concoct such vile scents?”

He was still upset with me for making him return to Mirth. He hated parting from his experiments and right now, the humans were his favorite.

“Are we still playing these games?” I picked up a fire gem resting on the table and rolled it between my fingers.

“No games.”

This particular gem had an interesting quality. When combined with the right amount of force, the center would heat. One could throw it against a hard surface, exploding the gem into a ball of flame.

Romulus snatched the stone from my hand, grumbling under his breath. As I was about to remind him of his insolence, he placed the gem in a beaker and the brown liquid swirled around, changing into fiery reds.

“What in—”

“The locket.” Romulus wiggled his fat fingers at me.

I took out the emerald locket, an exact copy of the one I gave to Jeslyn, and handed it over.

Romulus took the necklace, dropped it into the beaker, and brought the beaker to the scrying bowl. “This will only work if she still possesses the locket.”

“Yes, yes, I know. Go on.”

After the night at the temple, I had Romulus search for Jeslyn. Since the spell on the locket stayed intact, we knew she survived. Back then, she was still in Daath.

Romulus poured the orange liquid into the bowl, leaving the locket in the beaker. At first, I saw nothing, but then the liquid slowly cleared, revealing the dim image of Jeslyn’s perfect and captivating face. A sense of deep intrigue filled me, and the urge to find her multiplied.

She spoke with an older woman, but, unfortunately, the scrying bowl only produced images, not sound.

“Where is she?” I asked, though Romulus had already left, returned to the brine fish he was dissecting, another foul smelling creature.

Jeslyn stood in a shop filled with glass cases and jewels. She walked behind a long case positioned on a wooden table, inserted a key into the case and showed a blue bracelet to the woman.

I was curious to learn how Jeslyn had survived the wound inflicted by her so-called beloved. It should have been fatal. Another work of her god, perhaps? There was much I needed to learn.

I had to find her.

Jeslyn’s family lived on a farm. Why would she now be in a shop instead of home?

I searched the image for any clues to her location. The scryer only displayed a certain radius around the locater. In this case it was the locket, which was not visible, but on her person, I knew. Jeslyn had an affinity for finer things, but I was pleasantly surprised she still wore the locket. Most humans would have sold it by now. I wondered why she’d kept it.

Perhaps she thought of selling it to a collector, or waiting for the right merchant to get the most coin. Whatever her reasoning may be, she’d incidentally made finding herself easier.