Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 2

  He gave a grunt of pleasure. That was good. The blood would fortify him, and he needed fresh meat for the journey ahead.

  Warsgra straightened, and with one fist—the one not holding the axe—he pulled his long, wavy brown hair away from his face. Though he was standing at the base of the Great Dividing Range, the mountain range that ran almost all the way through the middle of Xantearos, he wore only shoulder protectors, a loincloth, and thick, animal skin boots. He’d grown up in this environment his whole life and didn’t feel the cold.

  The thought made him growl in irritation. He was going to have to travel with other folks soon. Their puny bodies and need for multiple layers made this trek even more of a chore. He’d have preferred to take only a few more of his own kind, the Norcs, or even go it alone, but this was how peace had remained among the other folk living on the Western coast, and he didn’t want another war breaking out. While he might have the brute strength so lacking in the other races, he appreciated that they had their skills. The Elvish could be cunning, and some of them even had magical abilities, though they were no longer allowed to use them, and the Moerians were dangerous fighters, skilled on horseback and with a weapon of any kind.

  No, it was better that he swallow his pride twice a year so they all worked together. The crops weren’t enough on this side of the mountain range to keep everyone fed, and while he was happy hunting and eating meat for every meal, the women and children of his clan were not.

  Even worse than traveling with the other races who lived on this side of the coast was meeting with the humans a little beyond the midway point of the Southern Pass. As much as he disliked the Elvish and Moerians, he despised the humans. They needed to send multiple amounts of their number just to make it halfway through the pass, and by the time they met with him and his clan, they were exhausted and terrified. They were a pitiful sight to behold, and he still didn’t understand how they’d managed to keep hold of most of the Eastern coast all these years. Yes, their numbers were great, and their ability to build and design far surpassed his kind, but every time he came face to face with one, all he could think was how he’d be able to crush them with a single blow from his fist. He was grateful that his interaction with them only ever needed to be limited to exchanging goods. If he was forced to travel with them for any amount of time, he imagined he would struggle to hold back his natural instincts to crush them.

  “You’re prepared for tomorrow’s journey?” asked his clan mate, Jultu Rockrider, as he strode toward where Warsgra stood over the now dead boar.

  Jultu was as big as Warsgra, but his family was less important among their kind. Warsgra’s family had been around in the early days of the Treaty, and Warsgra and his ancestors had fought hard to make sure they were the leaders of their clan. Other clans of Norcs lived across the foothills of the Great Dividing Range, but Warsgra’s was by far the largest and most powerful. The area given to the Norcs during the Treaty was known as the Southern Trough, and Warsgra’s clan’s position at the entrance to the Southern Pass was the most highly sought. The mines the Norcs worked were rich with coal in this area, and, carved out of the mountain side on both sides of their camp, was evidence of their work. No other clan would be stupid enough to challenge Warsgra, however. He would crush them in an instant if they tried.

  Warsgra straightened. “I am now. Are the bison ready for the morning?”

  “Yes, and the carts are loaded with coal. We just have to hope the Elvish and Moerians arrive by sunrise.”

  “They will.” He snorted. “Or they’ll have to travel alone.”

  “You know that isn’t how things work, Warsgra,” he warned. “Don’t break a treaty that’s a hundred and fifty years old just because you have no patience.”

  Warsgra shrugged. “I have patience. Just not for their kind.”

  “There’s a reason we all came together, remember. It wasn’t so long ago that our kind was almost wiped out by the mountain Gods. Don’t disrespect them by making light of their powers.”

  Warsgra knew of their powers. His great grandfather had almost been killed during one such journey, and the tales of how he’d survived had raised his family name to what it was today.

  “It’s not the Gods I make light of, it’s the people I’m due to travel with.” He sighed and lifted his hand in defense. “Okay, okay. Relax, Jultu. I won’t do anything to jeopardize things. I’ll smile sweetly and be nice.” As though to demonstrate his ability, he pulled his full lips back and exposed a line of strong white teeth.

  Jultu lifted a bushy eyebrow. “You look more like you’re thinking of a big meal than being friendly.”

  He burst out laughing and smacked his naked thigh. “Aye, or a good young female to bed.”

  His clan mate joined the laughter. “That, too. When are you going to choose yourself a wife, Warsgra? People are talking, and everyone wants a good wedding. Plenty of time to get drunk and have sex.”

  The weddings of his kind took place over a week, and most people couldn’t remember their own names by the end of the celebrations.

  The smile fell from Warsgra’s lips. “I have no wish to get married. Especially not if it’s only to give the people an excuse to drink wine and fuck. The last thing I need is some woman thinking she has a hold over me, or even worse, little rugrats crawling around.” He pounded his fist to his massive chest. “I’m keeping my freedom.”

  “You’ll end up old and dead, and with no one to continue your name, if you’re not careful, Warsgra.”

  “But people will sing songs of my strength and courage for generations to come.”

  “Even great heroes can be forgotten,” his clan mate warned.

  Warsgra snorted. “Then they weren’t that great.”

  He set to work with his axe, gutting the boar to be spit-roasted, and then hunks of meat would be wrapped in cloth to take on the journey. Several other members of his clan would be coming along in the morning, helping to drive the carts loaded with coal which the bison would pull. Because of the location of their home, already at the base of the Great Dividing Range and only a matter of hours from the Southern Pass, they didn’t have as far to travel as the Elvish or the Moerians. The Elvish lived farther south, in the Inverlands, where the temperatures were cooler again. And the Moerians preferred the warmer climes of the north, where the Vast Plains stretched, allowing them to run their horses and hunt the animals that ran alongside them. Their rivers held gold, which they brought in exchange for grains from the humans, and the Elvish brought with them diamonds, mined from the most Southern point of the Great Dividing Range. It seemed crazy to him that the humans would exchange things that could be eaten for things that simply looked pretty when hung around their scrawny little necks, but it seemed humans valued beauty above full stomachs.

  He looked across his homeland. The houses were created from rock and animal skin, and fires burned outside most of them to keep away unwanted visitors during the night, and keep the inhabitants warm. Living under the shadow of the mountain range made the Southern Trough a hard land to live on, but it was their land, and any complaints instantly made them look weak. Weakness was not an attribute welcomed among the Norcs. Weakness got members of your family killed, and other Norcs didn’t want weak members to breed yet more weak stock into their population.

  This time tomorrow he would be leaving his homeland behind, something that filled him with mixed emotions, and Warsgra didn’t do emotions well.

  He just had to wait for the others to arrive.

  Chapter Three

  Dela

  CLUTCHING HER MOTHER’S hand—for her mother’s reassurance more than her own—they made their way back to the city square. Dela’s father followed, even quieter than usual, and though he didn’t say as much, Dela knew he was worried about the results of The Choosing, too.

  The streets seemed ten times busier than they had been only an hour earlier. Everyone was moving in the same direction, and they were caught up in the flow, hurrying to stay a
foot. Falling down with this many people around would most likely only get you trampled.

  The narrow streets opened onto the square. Dela let out a breath, taking in the vast expanse of heads and bodies. She craned her neck, trying to spot Layla. Was her friend here yet? She wondered if she’d recognize any of the names called this time. It would be a terrifying but amazing thing to leave the city walls and head up through the Southern Pass to meet other races. Dela had never properly met someone of another race. She’d caught glimpses of them, and seen paintings, but that was all. Would they be horrifying? Would the Norcs be as brutish as they were rumored to be, the Elvish be as devious, and the Moerians as uncivilized? She’d heard the stories, just as anyone growing up in Anthoinia had, but to come face to face with them would be something else entirely.

  Not that such a thing would happen to her. Her brother had already been called, and the chances of another member of her family going would be thousands to one.

  Was that a dip of disappointment she felt?

  Immediately, guilt flooded through her. Her brother had died doing such a trip, and she was thinking of it as an adventure, a way to escape her parents’ home and this city, and see the world outside. She shook her head at herself. How selfish she was.

  A pair of blue eyes locked with hers over the crowds, and Dela pulled herself from her thoughts and lifted her hand in a wave. Layla was standing a little way off, surrounded by her numerous brothers and sisters, so many Dela often got them mixed up or forgot their names.

  From the direction of the platform, a horn suddenly sounded, and Dela jumped. Around her, the crowd fell quiet, only people coughing and distant dogs barking disrupting the now fraught silence.

  It was time.

  Layla threw her a thumbs up sign, and Dela gave her a tight smile in return.

  The horn blew out a melody, and, from the castle above, King and Queen Crowmere began to descend, walking the vast stairway that led down to the city square below. The massive gates opened, and they stepped through. The king and queen were both in their thirties now and were yet to produce children—something people were starting to question in private, but would never dare to do so in public.

  A murmur rose around the crowd, people commenting on how beautiful Queen Crowmere was, with her waist length, shiny dark hair, and how handsome the king, with his full beard and broad shoulders.

  It was hardly surprising. Dela thought almost anyone would look amazing with that amount of finery on their bodies. The queen was dripping with jewels—huge gold necklaces around her neck—and her fingers must have been so heavy with all the jewels Dela was surprised she could even hold her hand up to offer them a wave. Many of those jewels would have been acquired during the Passover. It seemed strange to Dela how they gave away food, causing some of the city to suffer and starve, in order to get their hands on yet more precious gems when it seemed to her that they had quite enough. She understood the races on the other sides of their lands weren’t as fortunate to be blessed with their climate and crops, and so this was the only thing they had to trade, but Dela didn’t believe it was all done out of the goodness of their hearts.

  King and Queen Crowmere wouldn’t be leading The Choosing, but were always present during. The head of the City Guard—a man in his forties, with a massive black beard, called Philput Glod—had that responsibility. And, from the way his smile stretched from ear to ear, Dela thought he probably enjoyed the task, too.

  “Welcome to The Choosing,” he boomed over the crowd. “Twice a year, at the changing of the seasons, we gather here to learn who will be the next Chosen. Those Chosen will embark on a mission to not only provide those less fortunate than ourselves with grain to feed their families, but also to return with coal to keep our furnaces stoked, and with gold and jewels to ensure our city remains wealthy. This time is called the Passover, and is what keeps our glorious country of Xantearos at peace. Those Chosen are honored to be serving their city.”

  Glod pulled out a scroll, and, as he unraveled it, read out the names.

  Her mother’s hand tightened around Dela’s as names were announced. With each one, there came a gasp of shock or a cry of surprise. It was a mixture of congratulations and commiserations, depending on the situation. For young men, as Ridley had been, this was supposed to be a time for them to prove themselves.

  “Layla Buckley,” Glod called out.

  Dela’s heart stopped, and she swung around to look in the direction she’d last seen her friend. No, not Layla. Layla stood with her hand to her mouth, her blue eyes wide and round with shock.

  The names continued to be called out. Dela barely heard them, thinking instead about how her best friend would be leaving tomorrow for several weeks. She had to come back. She had to. Dela didn’t think she could cope with losing her as well.

  She tried to focus on the other names being called. She recognized a couple—an older man, Wayneguard Norton, and another male a little older than she was, who’d been at school with Ridley.

  “Dela Stonebridge,” the Guard called out.

  Dela felt as though someone had punched her in the chest. Beside her, her mother let out a cry and fell into her arms. Numbly, Dela hugged her, but her mind was spinning. Had she really just heard that? Had he called out her name?

  “It’s okay, Mama.” She patted Johanna’s back. “I’ll be okay. I’ll have Layla with me.”

  “I can’t do this again,” her mother sobbed. “I just can’t.”

  Her father stepped in. “She has to, Johanna. She has no choice. You know what happens to absconders.”

  Those who tried to run from their duties would be tracked down. They were apprehended and beheaded on the same platform the names were being announced from now. It was a way of making sure everyone knew what would happen to them if they absconded from their job.

  Tears streamed down her mother’s face, and Dela desperately wished there was something she could do to take them away. But this was out of her hands. Short of claiming she was pregnant—which she most certainly wasn’t—or dropping dead, she’d be going with everyone else to leave for the Passover tomorrow.

  “I need to speak with Layla,” she managed, still in a daze. Her friend would understand how she was feeling. It was a small relief, but at least they’d be together. Of course, it also gave Dela someone else to worry about—another person she cared about being taken by The Choosing. There were dangers along the way, but sometimes people simply weren’t healthy enough to make it there and back again. The journey to the foothills of the mountains was an easy enough trip, but once the group started to ascend into the Great Dividing Range, through the Southern Pass, things could go wrong very quickly. Dangers lay in all directions. If timings were done badly, and either the white cloud descended, or the west wind blew, they might lose everyone.

  The other races on the Western coast did things differently. Where Anthoinia saw it a case of safety in numbers, the other folk sent their most fierce warriors.

  But that was how things had always been done.

  The Eastern coast of their lands was rich in agriculture, with a more temperate climate, which the humans had always reigned over. And the Western coast was rich in minerals—coal needed to keep the furnaces of the Eastern coast burning. To prevent either parts of the lands and its people from struggling, it made sense to exchange goods twice a year. Of course, the Western coast could grow a few crops, and the Eastern coast could cut down trees, but it wasn’t enough to live sustainably. This way of doing things had been happening ever since the Treaty had been put into place, and nothing was going to change now. If they lost a few people during the journey, it was almost to be expected. The mountain passes were the only ways to reach either coast of Xantearos, other than navigating the entire coast, which was even more treacherous, and would take months, or else to go by sea. The sea held its own dangers, with rough storms and sea monsters that could drag a ship down with a single tentacle. And no one went to the Northernmost point of Xantearos.
The Northernmost point was called Drusga, which translated as Valley of the Dragons, and was made up of volcanoes and hot pools, and was rumored to be the place where the dragons used to live. Of course, dragons hadn’t been seen for hundreds of years, and no one was crazy enough to want to go to Drusga and find out if rumors of their demise were true.

  No, the Southern Pass, though with its dangers, was without doubt the safest option.

  Her mother released her hand, though Dela sensed her reluctance, and Dela pushed her way through the crowds to where Layla was surrounded by her many siblings, each hugging and kissing her. Her friend spotted her approaching and pushed her brothers and sisters out of the way to open her arms for her. Dela fell into them, and they held each other tight.

  “Oh, by the Gods, Dela. I can’t believe we’ve both been chosen.”

  “I know. I know.” She unfolded herself from her friend’s arms to look into her face. “At least we’ll be together.”

  They locked eyes, and Layla nodded, tears shimmering in their blue depths. “Yes, at least we’ll be together.”

  “So, what happens now?” Dela asked.

  Layla glanced back at the platform, where the City Guard was rolling up his scroll, and the king and queen were being ushered back into the safety of their castle. “We have tonight, and then we leave at first light.”

  DELA WOKE EARLY THE following morning, before the sun had begun to rise. Her mother had cried into the early hours, while Dela had lain in bed, a strange mixture of fear and excitement swirling inside her.

  She’d barely slept, and, when she had, her sleep had been filled with vivid but confusing dreams of soaring across a night sky, the world a dark and empty space beneath her.

  She didn’t want to feel the excitement. It felt like a betrayal to both her mother and Ridley. She shouldn’t be excited doing something that had brought death to her family. Yet the idea of getting beyond the city walls and seeing something of their country set her pulse racing. What would it be like out there? They were always told that the walls had been built for their own safety, to keep out the wild creatures that roamed in the lands, but now she was being sent out into them.