Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 7

  Vehel was delaying too long. As he looked around, he saw his traveling companions becoming overwhelmed, beaten to the ground by numerous little furry bodies, swarming over them like ants over the rotting corpse of a locust. The energy grew stronger inside him, and he suddenly realized he might no longer have the strength to hold it back, even if he wanted to. This was the reason he wasn’t the fiercest fighter or the most enigmatic of his brothers. It was because he had something else inside him, and he’d known all this time that if he didn’t keep a tight rein on it, he would show himself for what he really was.

  He clenched his fists and jaw, and even though more of the creatures flung themselves at him, he didn’t react. He focused purely on what was happening inside him now. The energy building until he knew he could contain it no longer.

  With a cry that came from the bottom of his lungs, he released the power inside him. Automatically, his fingers sprang open, and with them his eyes, though he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them.

  The gloom of the Southern Pass was transformed. A blinding blue light burst from the palms of his hands. Those around him shielded their eyes with the backs of their arms, but, more importantly, the light sent the strange little creatures scattering. Where it touched them, their wiry black fur smoldered, and they let out high-pitched shrieks before bounding back up the side of the mountain face.

  With the last of the things gone, the light vanished from Vehel’s hands, and he dropped to one knee, his head down, gasping for breath. He was drained, as though he’d given it everything he had.

  A hand on his shoulder made him lift his head. Warsgra looked down at him, his bushy eyebrows drawn together, his green eyes darkened with concern. “Are you all right?”

  Vehel managed to nod, and Warsgra put out his hand and pulled him to his feet.

  He sensed the piercing gaze of his own kind on him and couldn’t meet their eye. He knew what they were thinking—that he shouldn’t have done that. Magic was forbidden in order to keep the peace of the Treaty, and he had just used it.

  The clop of hooves approached, and Orergon pulled his horse up beside him. “Thank you, Vehel. I don’t know what we would have done if you weren’t here.”

  “I ... I ...” he started, unsure of how to finish.

  Warsgra raised his voice, as though he wanted every man in the Southern Pass to hear. “What just happened here was necessary. We all know the use of magic is forbidden, but if this Elvish prince hadn’t used his, we’d might all be dead by now. If not dead, then we’d have lost all our animals and be making the rest of the journey on foot. I hope I can trust each and every one of you to appreciate that, and keep your mouths shut. Be warned, if you do not know how to hold your tongues, I can help you along by removing it for you.” He lifted his axe and brought the flat of the blade down on his palm.

  “And believe me, I am not skilled with such delicate work. You may end up losing your entire head.”

  Chapter Ten

  Orergon

  ORERGON BELIEVED EVERY word of Warsgra’s threat.

  He looked back at his own tribesmen and lowered his head in a nod to them, to tell them he agreed with what Warsgra had just said. He wasn’t going to pretend that traveling with an Elvish prince who had the ability to do magic didn’t make him nervous, but he’d only used that magic to help them, not harm them. In fact, Vehel revealing to them that he had such an ability probably caused him more harm than it did them. And from the way his Elvish companions were now glaring at him, Orergon didn’t think his own kind would be supporting him either.

  But if Vehel hadn’t done what he’d done, they might all be having their flesh chewed by a swarm of little six-legged rodents by now. They owed it to him to keep his secret.

  The group was more subdued as they gathered themselves and continued on their way. They still had a couple of nights before they reached the meeting point, where they’d make the Passover for the humans, and for the first time Orergon wondered if they’d make it. This wasn’t the first time he’d completed the trip, and there was always the possibility of danger, yet for some reason this time something felt different. Was it simply because Vehel was here with them? One or the other of Vehel’s brothers had accompanied them previously, and neither had given any sign that they held the ability to do magic inside them.

  No, he didn’t think the feeling of unease originated from Vehel being with them. It was bigger than that. The mountain felt different, as though its craggy faces held something portentous.

  Orergon ran over the rituals he and his tribesmen had gone through before and during this journey, making sure they hadn’t forgotten to give thanks to each of the Gods and asking for their blessings. Of course, Orergon knew the Gods didn’t always listen. After all, hadn’t they gone through every ritual known to their kind before his wedding day, and then on the day his son had been born? He’d prayed and made sacrifices, as had the rest of his tribe, wishing them well and praying to the Gods that his son would grow to be a strong, generous, noble man to take over his father’s place as tribe leader.

  His heart contracted at the memories. They’d done everything within their power to wish them good fortune, but none of it had mattered in the end. The Gods had done whatever they wanted anyway.

  Digging his heels into the flanks of his horse, Corazon, he pressed forward to catch up to where Warsgra still led the group, mounted on his huge, white mountain goat. Orergon was no fan of the Norc leader, but he knew these mountains better than any of them.

  He slowed to a trot beside him. “How are you feeling about this trip?”

  Warsgra glanced over, frowning. “How do you mean?”

  “Does it feel different from those before it?”

  His frown deepened. “In what way?”

  Orergon was starting to get frustrated at the way the big man kept answering with questions of his own.

  “I’m not sure, exactly. Things just feel differently this time. Where did those creatures come from? Why haven’t we seen them before?”

  Warsgra shrugged. “The mountains cover a vast area. There’s no way we could ever know all the creatures that live here.”

  “Yes, the mountain range does, but not the Southern Pass. We’ve traveled this way, twice every year, for a long time now, and not come across them.”

  “What are you suggesting?” he grunted.

  “I’m not sure.” He thought hard. “That something happened to push them toward us, perhaps. Or that the Southern Pass itself doesn’t want to be crossed this time.”

  “The Southern Pass doesn’t have its own thoughts and ideas, Orergon. It’s just rock, like the rest of the mountains.”

  “Very well, then perhaps the Gods don’t want us to pass this time.”

  Warsgra gave a booming laugh. “I’m sure the Gods have better things to do than worry about the likes of us.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  Not feeling as though he was getting anywhere with the Norc, Orergon allowed his horse to slow, pulling back to join his tribesmen once more. The Elvish prince, Vehel, continued to ride his stag, but Orergon noticed how he slumped slightly, as though his head had grown too heavy for his body. The other Elvish rode alongside him, and Orergon noted how they exchanged glances with each other, but never with Vehel.

  Warsgra may have threatened to cut out the tongues of anyone who spoke of what Vehel had done to save them, but he wondered if that applied to the Elvish, too. Orergon had a strong feeling that if they were all blessed enough to return to their homelands once the Passover had been completed, Vehel would be reprimanded greatly for what he’d done. They just had to hope news of his use of magic wouldn’t spread to the Eastern side of Xantearos. Orergon didn’t even want to think about the repercussions if such a thing happened. Part of the agreement of the Treaty was that the Elvish no longer continued to use magic, and the humans would view its use as breaking it, even though it had been done to save lives.

  The rest of that day’s traveling en
ded without further trouble. They set up camp, fires were lit, and meals were passed around.

  The next day, if all went well, they would be meeting with the human convoy traveling from the Eastern coast. Then the Passover would be complete and they’d all be able to return home.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dela

  SPENDING THE NIGHT sleeping beneath the shadow of the towering cliff faces of the Southern Pass had been the most terrifying thing she’d done in her entire life. She’d thought sleeping on the roadside had been bad, worried they’d be attacked by wild animals, marauders, or worse. But somehow she found the walls of the Southern Pass to be even more menacing. Her gut told her this place was bad, and she wasn’t able to let her guard down for a moment.

  The result was that she got little sleep that night. The chill of the place didn’t help either, and though she knew they were in the mountains now, she felt as though she was in a place the sun never touched. By the time she rose in the morning, the cold had settled in her bones, and she wondered if she’d ever feel warm again.

  They worked together to break down camp, and she noted she wasn’t the only one who’d been affected. Everyone looked exhausted and worked with bone-deep weariness.

  “I keep thinking of home,” Layla said as she rolled up the canvas they used as part of their shelter. “I never thought I’d miss my brothers and sisters, but now I’d give anything to be back with them, everyone fighting and laughing.” She gave Dela a sympathetic smile. “I can’t imagine how it’s been for you over the last few years, knowing you’d never get to see Ridley again. It’s only been a few days, and I already feel like I’m missing a part of myself by not being with them.”

  Dela lifted her hand to the ring she wore on a string of leather around her throat. The circumference was far too large for her to wear around her finger. She’d worn it around her neck ever since he’d given it to her as a reminder of him—not that she was ever going to forget him. Still, it made her feel closer to him to have something of his so near her heart.

  Layla must have seen her reaction, as she winced. “Sorry, that was really thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?”

  Dela forced a smile. “No, you’re allowed to miss home. It’s not your fault Ridley didn’t come back. I don’t want people to think they’re not able to talk about their own families because of mine.”

  Layla finished shoving the canvas into a bag, and then reached out and squeezed Dela’s hand. “We’re almost on our way home,” she said. “We’ll do the Passover today, and then we’ll be able to turn around and go back to a hero’s welcome.”

  Her thoughts went to the Passover, and her stomach churned at the thought of meeting the other races. What would they be like? Would they welcome them with warm greetings, or would they treat them like the enemy? Many years had passed since the Great War, but still there must be some residing resentment. After all, humans had taken the entire of the Eastern coast, while the other folk had been forced to divide the more inhospitable Western coast between themselves. Yes, the human population was larger, but Dela knew if it had been the other way around, and humans had been forced to take a smaller chunk of land that was harder to live on, they wouldn’t have let things lie.

  “Let’s move on,” Norton called as they stashed the final remains of their camp onto the carts. “Only a few more hours, and we’ll be there.”

  Her heart fluttered with excitement, and the weight that had been pressing her down since entering the Southern Pass lifted. They were almost there, and then they’d all be able to go home.

  The group began to walk again. Even the oxen had slowed now, their pace heavy, as though they struggled to lift their own feet. Their chests heaved, their breathing labored, even though they’d only just started back out after a night’s rest. Perhaps they’d slept as badly as she had? Dela suddenly realized they’d say goodbye to the oxen when they did the Passover. It wouldn’t only be the carts they’d give to the other folk. They’d need something to pull them with as well. She reached out and placed her palm against the shoulder of the animal closest to her. Its skin was warm beneath her palm, the hair covering it coarse and scratchy. But she was thankful for the small amount of heat bringing the feeling back to her fingertips. Her heart tightened at the thought of giving the animals away. It was stupid to get attached to working beasts, but she felt like they’d gone through a lot together.

  The blisters on the backs of each foot had burst a couple of days ago, and now were forming crusts that kept rubbing off on the backs of her boots. The tips of her toes were also blistered, and every muscle in her body ached. She’d always assumed it would have been her feet and legs that would have suffered the worst, but it was her lower back that pained her most, and she walked with a stoop, her hand pressed on the base of her spine.

  “You look like your mama when you walk like that,” Layla commented, teasing her.

  “And you look like your brother, Donald,” she retorted. Donald had been born with one leg noticeably shorter than the other, and walked with a lurching limp. Layla reached out and smacked Dela playfully on the arm.

  Dela was pleased her friend was with her, and that she’d made it the full journey. She couldn’t imagine how much worse this all would have been if they’d not had each other.

  “We’ll be seeing the other folk soon,” Layla said. “What do you think they’ll be like?”

  Dela shook her head. “I have no idea.”

  “I hear the Norcs are big and rough, and they tend not to wear many clothes. I wonder how much of their naked bodies we’ll get to see.”

  “Layla!” Dela’s mouth dropped in surprise at her friend’s comment, and she looked around to see a twinkle in her blue eyes. She didn’t know how she had the energy to be thinking about such things. Dela was so exhausted she could only think about her own bed.

  “Oh, what? Don’t be such a prude.” She jabbed her in the side with her elbow. “It’s not like you haven’t thought about it.”

  She widened her eyes. “I haven’t! Not like that, anyway. I mean, they’re ... different.”

  “Dela, I’ve known you your entire life. I saw you vanish around the back of school with Pete Jameson when we were sixteen. Don’t make out to me like you’re some blushing virgin.”

  Okay, she wasn’t, but losing Ridley had put an end to all thoughts of anything like that. She’d known then that she wouldn’t be looking to marry and start up a family of her own any time soon. She needed to stay with her parents and make sure they were all right. Besides, it hadn’t been much of a loss. She’d never been able to picture herself like Layla’s mama, with multiple kids hanging off her legs. Maybe this was what she’d wanted all along, to be able to leave the city and explore what existed in the rest of the country. Was that why she hadn’t been as frightened as she’d thought she’d be when her name had been called? Had a part of her not only been expecting this, but been looking forward to it?

  Considering everything that had happened, the notion felt wrong on every level. But though she wanted to be home and tell her parents she was safe, a little part of her soul died at the thought. Would that be it for her, then? Once a person had been one of the Chosen, they weren’t entered a second time. So she’d return to Anthoinia and go back to living with her parents, and that would be it for her life.

  The hours passed as they plodded onward, heading deeper into the Southern Pass. With each footstep, Dela’s excitement grew. In her mind, she pictured the meeting. She imagined shaking hands with these unusual people, of noting every feature to mind so she could go home and recount in detail how they had all been. Maybe they’d even ask questions of her, wanting to know what life was like back in Anthoinia. Surely she couldn’t be the only one interested in how the other races lived?

  “Shh.” Norton lifted a hand, and they all slowed. The oxen and carts came to a halt behind them. “Do you hear that?”

  Dela’s ears strained, trying to pick up on what Norton was talking about. So far, oth
er than the sounds their convoy made, the Southern Pass had been ominously quiet. There was the occasional small rock fall which rumbled down the sides of the mountains, or an eagle which gave a mournful shriek overhead, but that was all. Now, however, something had changed. At first she thought it might be the distant sound of thunder, or even a waterfall somewhere up ahead, but then she realized it was the sound of numerous feet—animal and man—and the rhythmical crunch of cart wheels on the rocky floor.

  She looked to Norton. “It’s them!”

  He nodded in reply. “Let’s hope so.”

  She knew what he meant—that they’d better hope it was the people they were supposed to meet rather than another group of travelers who might mean them harm. But no one traveled through the Southern Pass unless they absolutely had to, and during the Passover was pretty much the only time anyone needed to. The rest of the time, the two sides of their country remained divided.

  Dela’s stomach flipped in anticipation. They were finally going to come face to face with the other races.

  “Let’s keep moving,” Norton said, beckoning everyone forward.

  Dela pushed to the front, and Layla followed. A couple of the men, including Norton, were also up front. Perhaps they were as eager to meet the other folk as she was. She had no reason to fear them—they were all here for the same thing.

  This part of the Southern Pass was long and straight, offering them a view into the distance. The acoustics of the place must have carried the sound between the cliff faces, as another few minutes passed before dots appeared in the distance and gradually began to grow larger.

  It was them.

  She exchanged a nervous smile with Layla, and they kept walking. Dela suddenly forgot all her aches and pains in light of this far more exciting development. A small part of her was disappointed, however, knowing that as soon as the produce was exchanged, they’d be turning around and heading home, and the adventure would be over.