Gaia's Secret (14 page)

I was considering marching in after him when
he emerged from the shadows, and the relief I felt surprised me.
The blade was in his hand, his expression fierce. His eyes settled
on me. For a moment I was wrapped in his concern, but it fled as
fast as it had come.

“He’s gone.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.” Alex squinted through the trees. “I
found tracks. There was only one rider. Heading in the opposite
direction.”

Cicero nodded, his expression grave.

“Who’s gone?” I asked.

No one even glanced at me.

Thad’s words flitted through my mind again.
What else weren’t they telling me? Or worse, what if Thad’s story
was true? I began studying the shadows with renewed vigor.

“We’ve got to hurry.” Cicero’s worried eyes
met mine for an instant before he spun around and marched
forward.

Alex placed himself at the back of our
procession, his blade ready at his side. It was strange seeing Alex
carry such a powerful weapon, and with such ease and confidence.
But what bothered me more was how worried I had been when he’d
left. I wasn’t supposed to care about him.

The forest ended as night crept up on us.
Flatlands spread beyond, lit by the eerie glow of a full moon. The
enormous round orb floated above the horizon, veiling the land in
silver hues, sharpening the contrast of shapes and shadows.

About a few hundred yards away, tiny dark
shadows sliced through the long grass, hurrying towards what looked
like a large barn.

Riders. Three of them.

Alex stood still beside me, his disdain
evident even without my ability to sense his emotion.

“Daria, pull on your hood. Keep it low.”
Cicero’s voice was quiet.

“Like that’s going to help,” mumbled
Alex.

Cicero ignored him, leading us forward from
beneath the tree cover.

As ominous and secretive as the forest
seemed, crossing open land was far worse. I felt so vulnerable, so
exposed, even though the riders showed no signs of seeing us. We
were near a major crossroads. There was no need to assume every
traveler was after us.

The riders disappeared into the barn. The
same one we were headed for.

So, this must be where we’re staying
tonight.

The building looked solitary, sitting
unaccompanied in the middle of nowhere. I wondered what it saw—what
it witnessed each day. Since this was the major junction joining
the four main territories, I imagined many people had sojourned
here over the years, all with various purposes. Some good, some
bad. Some in hiding, like us.

The building was much farther away than it
looked from the forest, which was shrinking in size with every
step. The forest had turned into a dark wall, veiling its
inhabitants in shadow. I was suddenly thankful we were no longer
there.

The barn began to look less like a barn and
more like an inn—a very rustic inn. It had the same overall shape
to it, but had little square windows evenly spaced about what I
guessed was a second floor. The windows along the first floor
glowed a soft orange, but lacked transparency from the thick
residue on them. A pillar of smoke rose from the chimney, the
silver threads curling and fraying endlessly into the black night.
I took in a deep breath of chilled air, tasting the wood smoke that
filled it.

Our boots crunched across the dried dirt road
as we approached the entrance. Torches burned bright on either side
of the heavy wooden door, illuminating a sign above that creaked as
it swayed back and forth in the soft breeze. The words “Rex Cross”
were etched in the wood and painted in red that had since faded
with time and wear.

Cicero motioned for us to stop while he
walked up the few wooden steps to the door. He rapped three quick
times and then waited, his stance perched and ready. A slat in the
door slid open and two beady black eyes filled the gap, peering out
at us. They examined our group and vanished as the wood slammed
back into place.

The door creaked open and light sliced
through the darkness, blinding me for a few seconds. Cicero
motioned for us to follow before he disappeared into the glow.

The air inside was thick with smoke, sweat,
and ale. The room was a small waiting room of some sort with a few
rotted chairs, an uneven table, and a counter along one side, like
it was built a long time ago and never used since. Even so, I heard
the sounds of people snoring.

That’s strange. There’s no one here besides
us.

On the wall next to the counter was a series
of thick wooden shelves with an assortment of skeleton keys
dangling from them. Long and short, rusted and gleaming. They
didn’t appear to be attached to anything.

Curious, I walked towards them, and the
snores grew louder and louder. Some seemed to swell with each
snore, others shivering as if they were cold.

I must be more exhausted than I think.

Just as I reached out my hand to touch one of
the strange keys, they all dropped from their hanging place on the
shelves and darted past me in a whirl, swirling and twirling in a
golden cloud overhead. The soft snores I’d heard were gone.
Instead, were the sounds of angry clanging and ringing.

A door swung open and a burst of irritation
clouded my senses. A stout man, about as tall as he was wide,
rushed past me. A tattered brown cloak hugged his round belly, and
his face was so swollen it looked like it had to steal grizzled
grey hair from his head for his beard, leaving nothing but long
wisps on top. Grumbling, his plump arms reached behind the counter
and pulled out a small treasure chest. He dropped the chest on the
counter with an angry thud and threw open the lid. Inside was a
large, rusty metal lock. The moment the keys laid eyes on the lock,
the horde of them forgot me and raced into the chest, the little
man shutting and locking the lid after them.

A few moments passed before the chest ceased
skidding and thudding along the countertop.

Everyone stared at me, including the beady
black eyes of the fat man.

“Sorry,” I began, embarrassed. “I didn’t
know…I was just…curious.”

His eyes were almost lost in the folds of his
crinkled forehead. “How would ye like it if someone ‘ere were
pokin’ you when ye were sleepin’?” The man shoved the chest full of
keys beneath the counter.

“I didn’t…”

“Follow me.” He cut me off, glaring. “An’
don’t be curious!”

I didn’t miss the looks of irritation from
Cicero and Alex as we followed the little man out of the room and
down a short hall, the sound of muffled chatter and clanking dishes
growing louder. At the end of the hall was a set of double doors.
The little man pushed them open and the noise exploded in my
ears.

It was a large banquet room, littered with
all kinds of people. Tables were filled with men in armor and some
in garb like our own. The women were all wearing tattered dresses
or worn leathers—much like mine. If they weren’t serving mugs of
some dark shaded liquid, they looked like they could kill you with
their pinky toe. Whatever their temperament, Alex’s appearance was
the one attribute that unified them. They all gawked at him as we
passed, and then they whispered and giggled and usually glared at
me.

A rustic round iron chandelier of candles
floated overhead. It just hovered there, suspended between the
ceiling and the heads of the people beneath it. Hanging from the
walls were heads of strange creatures mounted to large wooden
plaques. One reminded me of a deer, but its prominent fangs,
catlike green eyes, and the fact that it was yawning, reminded me
that it wasn’t.

Seven varying shaded banners hung by
invisible threads from the ceiling. All of them were tattered and
old, and across each was stamped a word: Alioth in oranges, Orindor
in reds, Campagna in blues, Valdon in greens, Gesh in browns,
Arborenne in silvers. The seventh banner hung in a dark corner and
was more difficult to distinguish than the rest, being more frayed
and soiled. The light flickered, catching the faded golden
lettering so that I could just make out one word: Pendel. Sonya was
right. The map Alex gave me hadn’t shown all of Gaia. If anything,
it’d shown a very small portion of it.

Most of the people sat around laughing,
sloshing around the contents of their heavy mugs. Some sat with
hands filled with cards, all with strange symbols and drawings on
them; a pile of gold coins sat in the middle of their table.
Daggers were thrown, oddly shaped dice were rolled, money was
traded—and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves with their
strong drink and gambles.

Music echoed throughout the hall from a trio
of stringed wooden instruments, huddled and player-less in one
corner. The strings plucked themselves; bows weaved un-manned, and
no one seemed to pay them any attention.

We followed our guide through the throngs of
people and tables. A few glanced up with curious eyes. The women
were more than curious as they batted their eyes at Alex with
hunger in them. He at least pretended not to notice.

My first exposure to the people of this world
and they didn’t at all fit the image I’d formed in my mind. In a
world of kings and lords, I expected at least some sense of
refinery. These men and women were filthy, salted with sweat
residue. The faces of the men hadn’t seen a razor in weeks. The
armored ones were battered and rusty, the cloaked ones were torn
and tattered.

The man motioned for us to sit at a round
wooden table, shoved in a dark corner away from the commotion. Alex
and Sonya each took my side. Alex kept one hand fisted on the
table, but I noticed the other was rigid at his waist.

A lady appeared wearing a low cut dress and
looked like she could kill me. In her hands was a tray filled with
mugs that she proceeded to pass around the table. As she handed
Alex his, she winked and sauntered away. I looked at Alex,
wondering how long he’d keep up this act of ignoring overt
attention. But when I earned myself a glare from him, I averted my
eyes.

The stench wafting from the mug before me was
rancid and sour but Alex didn’t hesitate before throwing back a
gulp. I gaped at him, horrified, and he knew it. Although he didn’t
turn to look at me, I didn’t miss his slight grin.

“Does anyone else know ye left?” The little
man grumbled just loud enough for us to hear.

“We told no one—” Cicero scanned the room
“—but we think we were being followed through the forest.”

“Well, no tellin’ what crazy folks be
wanderin’ ‘round these days,” the man chuckled, and I caught a
strong whiff of spirits and rot. Someone needed to tell this Gaian
what a toothbrush was.

The lady reappeared, passing around bowls of
some putrid smelling soup. This time she offered Alex a generous
view as she reached across him to hand me my soup. He, however,
still acted like he didn’t notice her and stared up at the
ceiling.

Everyone dug in; we were all starved. I
pushed the ladle through my bowl of broth. Strange blue tinged
spheres floated to the top with long translucent grey-green veined
strands of something wrapped around them, and my stomach
turned.

“Otis, meet Daria.” Cicero gestured towards
me.

The little man called Otis stared at me.
“That’s her?” He frowned. “You said she’d be a young woman. How old
is she…eleven?”

Alex’s shoulders shook as he stifled a laugh
and took a drink.

Well. I sat up a little straighter.
“Eighteen.”

A smile of blackened, rotted teeth greeted
me. “Course ye are, darlin’.”

“How has business been here?” Sonya nodded
towards the room.

Otis looked at Sonya. “Busier. People in the
territories aren’t happy. Says King Darius is to be blamed for the
droughts and is keepin’ all the goods for ‘imself. So they all come
here, and drink down their concerns, bloody barbarians.” He
narrowed his eyes at two men that were trying to strangle each
other but kept stumbling over their own feet. “Only I’m worried
that their concerns aren’t goin’ down like they use to.”

Cicero’s brow furrowed, his fingers rubbed at
his chin. “There’s a surprising amount of soldiers here,
considering there’s no war.”

Otis leaned forward, over the table. “Rumor
is we’re about t’ be.”

“What do you mean?”

A pitcher of that foul liquid floated through
the air towards our table. It tilted itself over each cup, a stream
of its contents falling with precision into a mug below, refilling
it, then moving to the next. Everyone acted like a floating pitcher
full of liquid was a common thing. I held my hand over my untouched
mug, and it passed.

The woman must have given up then.

“Some o’ the men are talkin’. Says there’s
someone mighty powerful—someone that sold ‘is soul to,” his voice
dropped lower, “Mortis ‘imself. Rumor is those that ‘ave joined
burned a strange mark on their necks. I’ve never seen it meself.
Not sure that I want to either. They’re s’ppose to ‘ave been given
some dark powers.” Otis forced so much of his breath to a whisper
that I feared my nose might be stained with the scent of rot and
ale forever. “I’m afraid it’s more serious than we think.”

“Any idea who this man is?” Sonya asked.

Otis shook his head. “No, but he be
recruitin’ some o’ the men with his ‘elpers. It’s an easy feat when
the people are so unhappy. I ‘ear the plan is to overthrow the
king. Says the Regius dynasty well needs to come to an end.”

“That’s ludicrous,” Cicero said. “If it
weren’t for King Darius and his armies, this world would be flooded
with creatures of shadow.”

“I’m not so sure anymore,” Otis said, staring
off into the room.

“You aren’t suggesting he’s failing?”
Cicero’s reprimand was immediate.

“Now, I’m not speakin’ no treason.” Otis
wiped his forehead. “I see a lot of people from all over. And some
of the outlying villagers—they’ve got some stories that’ll make yer
toes curl. Of evils returning.” Otis leaned forward. “Gargons
even.”