Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 15

  All they could do was keep going, though Orergon knew they’d have to stop soon. None of them had eaten that morning, due to what had happened with Dela, and they were running on empty. He said so to the others, and they agreed.

  “We’ll stop here for an hour and find something to eat and drink.”

  “It’ll mean going back to the river,” Vehel warned.

  “I think we have to. It’s our only source of water, and our main source of food.”

  Warsgra nodded in agreement. “I’ll get some more fish, if someone else keeps watch. I think we’re miles away from those things by now, but if one of them is coming up behind me, I’d like to know about it.”

  “Of course,” Orergon said. “Vehel, can you get a fire started and watch over Dela, and I’ll watch Warsgra’s back?”

  Warsgra gently placed Dela beneath a tree. It was unnerving to see her like this, with her eyes open and watching, but her body completely motionless. It must be terrifying for her as well, to not be able to move. Warsgra was right when he said death would be kinder than living like this, but it was far too soon to be making such a call. They’d fight for her for as long as they could.

  Orergon had his spear back again now, so he followed Warsgra to the waterside to watch his back as he fished. For a society who lived mostly on meat, the Norc was an excellent fisherman. Orergon was a hunter, too, but the Vast Plains weren’t a place where rivers were plentiful, and the ocean was many miles away from his homeland. The Elvish fished, but with nets in the sea, so they were lucky to have Warsgra with them—something Orergon never believed he would think. As they’d been walking, Orergon had checked the trees and bushes they’d passed for fruit. He spotted several bushes heavy with produce, but he didn’t recognize any of it. The thought of picking something poisonous and getting everyone sick held him back. They would wait until they came across something one of them could at least identify. They weren’t starving yet, and there was no point taking the risk unnecessarily.

  With Warsgra in the water, Orergon braced himself, keeping his eyes open and his hearing sharp. He wouldn’t let them be attacked again without being ready for it. This journey would take them many weeks, and he was sure that had just been the start of many challenges they would face. The insect had come out of nowhere, and they had let their guard down.

  He wouldn’t make that mistake twice.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Dela

  THIS WAS WORSE THAN being trapped in the underworld.

  Dela lay frozen inside her own body, staring out at the world but unable to interact. Was this it for her now? Was this how her life was going to be from now on? She’d wanted to cry when Warsgra had talked about death being kinder, had wanted to grab his arm and tell him he was absolutely right, but she couldn’t even get a tear to fall from her eye.

  Now she lay beneath a tree and watched Vehel work as he set about building a fire. As he’d done the previous day, he held his hand over the bundle of twigs and sticks, and his eyes slipped shut. Seconds later, the twigs burst into flame. It had been quicker that time. The practice was working.

  She wished he would try something on her to make her better. She understood that he was worried he’d do something wrong and make her worse, but really, what could be worse than this? If he’d only ask her what it was she wanted, she was sure she’d be able to convey in some way that it was worth the risk.

  With the fire going, Vehel came and sat beside her. His pale skin was still streaked with mud, though it had dried now. She must look a mess herself—not that it mattered. How she looked was the very least of her worries.

  What he’d done for her had been incredibly brave. She couldn’t imagine the sort of courage it took to climb into that hole after her. In fact, they’d all come for her. She’d glimpsed Orergon and Warsgra fighting the insects while Vehel had carried her out of the tunnel. They’d fought bravely, and they hadn’t needed to do that. They could have just chalked her down to being lost, but instead they’d come after her and put their own lives at risk. They hadn’t exactly hidden their dislike of humans in general, but their actions so far had made her think differently. Maybe she’d been a little prejudiced of them, too, before she’d had the chance to get to know them properly. She still didn’t know them, not really, but she’d felt like she was getting to know them. Everything would change now if she stayed like this, however. The idea of them being forced to look after her while she was helpless filled her with dread, and she didn’t want them to put their lives at risk either. She was going to be a hindrance for them and would slow them down.

  At what point would they be forced to leave her behind?

  Despair dragged down on her heart. No, she couldn’t allow herself to think this way, or she would give up on herself. This paralysis was most likely only temporary and would wear off eventually. She had to keep believing that.

  Warsgra and Orergon returned with freshly caught fish and some water, which they carried in the breast plate of the armor Vehel was no longer wearing.

  “She won’t be able to eat when she’s like this,” Warsgra said.

  “What about water? Do you think she can drink, or are we likely to choke her?”

  Dela wished she could answer, but she wasn’t sure either. Her body’s basic functions still appeared to be working—she could blink and move her eyes around. Experimenting, she swallowed some of her spit. Yes, she could swallow, so she could probably swallow food as well, if it was mashed up enough for her. Another thought occurred, and inwardly she groaned. What about needing the bathroom? Was one of the men going to have to take her and help her clean up afterward? No, she couldn’t have that. She’d rather die first.

  Warsgra got to work, cleaning and skewering the fish he’d caught, before resting the ends of the skewers on two rocks on opposite sides of the fire Orergon had got going.

  Orergon and Vehel crouched on either side of Dela. Gently, Orergon supported her head, while Vehel tipped the pool of water, still held in his breastplate, up to her mouth. The water dribbled down both sides of her chin, dampening her tunic beneath, but some ran over her tongue and down the back of her throat, and mercifully her reflexes kicked in and she was able to swallow.

  The scent of the fish cooking caused hunger to churn inside her, but she didn’t think they would risk her choking on fish bones. She wasn’t going to die of hunger any time soon. Better to wait until things got desperate. If Vehel wasn’t going to try to use magic to make her better, then all she could hope for was that the fly’s venom would eventually start to wear off.

  They propped her back up again, and then the men took their places around the fire. When the fish was cooked, she could only look on, helpless, as they tore away at the flesh with their teeth, eating with a satisfaction she didn’t think she was going to get any time soon.

  “What do you think is happening down south now?” asked Vehel between mouthfuls of fish. “Do you think anyone is aware of what happened in the Southern Pass yet?”

  Orergon shrugged. “It depends if there were any survivors, and if there were, how long it would take them to get back to Anthoinia.”

  “The journey from the city to the Southern Pass normally takes the humans days, doesn’t it?” Warsgra said, picking a fish bone from his teeth and flicking it to the ground.

  Vehel nodded. “Yes, but that’s when there’s a big group of them, and they have carts filled with sacks of grain to maneuver. A solitary person could move faster.”

  “Especially if they were to come across one of our animals to ride,” Orergon jumped in. “Humans know how to ride. Most of our animals fled, but if they were able to get on a horse and do the journey that way, they’d be far quicker.”

  Warsgra snorted. “Fear also is an excellent way of getting someone to move faster. Seeing what we did back there would sure be a good kick up the arse.”

  The men finished eating and got to their feet. They washed off the remains of the fish in the river, stamped down the fire,
and got on the move again.

  Warsgra bent to scoop her into his arms, and she wished she was able to put her arms around his broad neck to hold on. It wasn’t as though she thought he would drop her, simply that doing so would have felt more natural. Her arms hung to the sides, and her head lolled. She hated being like this. Unable to move her head, she had no choice but to stare up at the leaves and branches of the trees above, and the blue sky peeping in between.

  Warsgra’s long, steady strides lulled her into a trance-like sleep, and before she’d even realized it had happened, she was no longer inside herself.

  DELA SOARED THROUGH the clouds, weightless and heady with euphoria. There was no better feeling than this—the ability to fly. She burst through a cloud, the tiny particles evaporating instantly from the heat from her skin. It was like magic. One moment the cloud was there, and the next it had vanished. She turned her head to look at the empty space and held back the urge to whoop with joy. These were the best kinds of days, when the sky was blue and dotted with clouds. Some days she’d have to battle, putting her head down and barreling through thick clouds, or wind threatening to blow her off course, or rain pummeling her back, driving her toward the ground.

  As she swooped down, the wind blasting against her face, the countryside below passed in a blur.

  Was this how she was supposed to be now? Instead of being trapped inside her own body, she’d take on this different form and fly. Because she’d had this dream so many times before, and somehow she knew it was a dream, and yet it wasn’t. Had some part of the universe known this would be her future and so had been building her up to a different way of life, a different consciousness?

  She didn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified. Relieved at the prospect of not being bound to her human body, but also heartbroken that she would never get her old life back again. It wasn’t the old life she’d miss so much, but the potential for what might have lain ahead. Since she’d been picked as one of the Chosen, a new excitement had lit inside her. Though it had caused mixed emotions, a part of her had known that was a new start for her, and that life would become so much bigger than what had existed for her within the city walls of Anthoinia.

  Only now it had grown far smaller—not trapped within walls this time, but within the confines of her own body.

  No, that wasn’t the reality. This was.

  She closed her eyes against the wind rushing against her face and flew ...

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Warsgra

  THE HUMAN WOMAN FELT weightless in his arms, though he’d been carrying her for miles.

  He glanced down at her sleeping face. Her full lips were slightly parted, and her dark blonde lashes lay on her creamy cheeks. Her red-gold hair hung down the side of his arm, her head cradled in the spot where the inside of his bicep met his elbow. He’d never thought it possible to find a human woman beautiful, but there was no denying that she was. Not only that, she’d shown a spark to her spirit, which he admired, and he found he missed her conversation—as spiky as it had been—as they walked. They’d only been a small group for a little over a day—four beings who should have nothing in common—and yet the loss of Dela’s presence felt wrong to the very core of his soul, as though something had shifted in the universe that was never supposed to move.

  No, he chastened himself, they hadn’t lost her. She was right here, in his arms. He felt sure the venom wouldn’t last forever. They’d get her back eventually. They just had to be patient.

  Orergon held out his arms for her. “I’ll take her for a while.”

  Warsgra shook his head and drew her closer. His shoulders ached a little from being in the same position for so long, but she didn’t feel heavy to him. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Orergon to take care of her, but for the moment he was content to just walk with her.

  They continued a little way, mainly in silence. The males had less to say to each other without Dela to spark conversation.

  Orergon frowned, tilting his head to one side. “Can you hear that?”

  Warsgra paused, his ears straining. He heard something and his stomach dropped. “It’s not those giant flies again?”

  The Moerian shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

  Vehel had been quiet during the journey, but now he spoke up. “Sounds like a waterfall to me. We have a lot of them in the Inverlands.”

  Warsgra nodded. “I think you’re right.”

  They’d been following the river up until this point. The waterway had widened in places, before narrowing off to the point where they thought they might even lose it underground, only to find it swelling again. The giant insects who’d snatched Dela hadn’t made a second appearance.

  As they continued, the trees began to thin out, and suddenly they found themselves standing on a precipice, looking out over a valley. The roar of the waterfall grew louder from where the river dropped off over the cliffside and into a pool below.

  “Look!” Warsgra pointed out over the valley.

  A small gathering of thatched roof cottages lay below them. A tendril of smoke wound into the sky from one of the chimneys, though Orergon assumed the fire was for cooking rather than heat. Though their journey had brought them farther south, it wasn’t enough to have affected the temperature yet.

  “What kind of folk live up this way?” Vehel asked, stepping forward to Warsgra’s side.

  Orergon shook his head. “They don’t. No one owns this part of the lands. Even we Moerians don’t come this far north.”

  Warsgra pulled Dela closer to his chest. “Might they be able to help her?”

  Orergon glanced at the young woman’s face. “Who knows? They might decide they’d rather cause harm than help.”

  “But we won’t know without trying,” Vehel said. “Those homes look innocent enough. The folk who live inside might be equally innocuous.”

  Warsgra grunted. “Or they use that as a trap to lure people in. Who lives this far out if they’re good and kind to lost travelers? Surely they’re more likely to be those who can’t live nicely with others.”

  Orergon lifted an eyebrow. “Like you, you mean?”

  “I live just fine with my own kind. It’s everyone else who makes me mad.”

  Vehel nudged Orergon in the side, and pointed to something on the other side of the houses. “Have you seen those?”

  Beyond the cluster of cottages were a number of fields where a small herd of ponies grazed.

  “We need those ponies,” Orergon said.

  Warsgra wrinkled his nose. “My feet will be dragging on the ground if I tried to ride one of those things.”

  “That’ll still be better than walking the next thousand miles.”

  He grunted again. “We need to think about the girl. I’ll walk if I have to, but first we need to try to make her well again.”

  Orergon nodded. “Then we have to take the risk.” He turned to the Elvish prince. “Are you still happy to trade your armor for whatever they can offer?”

  Vehel nodded. “Yes, as long as they offer what we need.”

  Warsgra sucked in a breath. “Let’s do this, then.”

  He started down the rocky cliff face which bordered the waterfall. After spending his whole life up in the mountains, such terrain didn’t concern him. Normally, he’d be riding his mountain goat, whose footing was almost supernaturally sure, but he had learned plenty in his twenty-eight years and could get down this cliff easily enough, even with Dela in his arms.

  Behind him, Orergon struggled to follow the same path, missing footsteps and sending flurries of rock down after them. Warsgra heard his yells of annoyance as he skidded, or a rock moved from under him. He figured if Orergon fell badly enough, he’d be there to break his fall. Vehel was doing better, having also come from a mountainous region. He also wasn’t as tall, so his center of gravity was lower than the tall, lanky Moerian, making it easier for him to balance.

  They picked their way slowly down to the bottom, staying awa
y from where the spray of the waterfall hit the rocks, knowing it would make them slippery. So far, other than the chimney smoke and the ponies, there hadn’t been any sign of life. Warsgra would have been surprised if at least one of the inhabitants hadn’t noticed them climbing down the cliff toward their homes. Quietness always made him more nervous than a head on threat. A warning he could deal with, but he didn’t like the thought of people sneaking up on them.

  “Why’s it so quiet?” Orergon echoed his thoughts as, one by one, their feet hit the ground. The waterfall emptied into a large pool, which then appeared to go underground. They’d finally run out of river to follow.

  “I was thinking the same thing.”

  Vehel jumped the final few feet, the armor he’d put back on clinking as he did so. “Maybe they’re on an excursion?”

  Warsgra lifted an eyebrow. “Without their ponies?”

  He hesitated and then handed Dela over to Orergon. He cupped his hand to the side of his mouth.

  “Hello?” he bellowed. “Is anyone there? Our friend needs help.”

  He ignored the way the others winced at his volume. He’d rather march into this place, showing no fear, than scurry around like a bunch of frightened mice. Besides, he was too big to go unnoticed.

  Warsgra strode toward the homes. Now that he was closer, he was able to see just how small they were. The height of the front door was barely up to his chest, and the windows were a fraction of the size they’d normally be. He was starting to get the impression that they wouldn’t need to worry about these people too much. It made sense as to why they had ponies in their paddocks rather than full sized horses.

  “Hello?” he called again. “We’re not here to cause trouble. We’re lost and we want to get help for our friend. She was stung by—”

  His face suddenly collided with something, and he bounced back with the recoil.