Lichgates: Book One of the Grimoire Saga (an Epic Fantasy Adventure) (35 page)

“What is this?”

“Break it when you arrive. The general will know, then, that she’s safe.”

“Word is that we aren’t fond of the Vagabond,” Braeden said, doing his best to sound nonchalant. “Why has the general asked that I watch her?”

He’d heard the gossip bubbling through the city as they left. The rumors claimed that the new Vagabond was little different from the first. She’d refused to dress in the city’s custom and insulted the general by withholding her griffin, even though the flicker of panic that crossed her face in the throne room meant she hadn’t known about the creature at all. He hoped no one else had seen that.

Still, because the general didn’t seem fond of her, none of the soldiers were taken with her either. If they’d been ordered to kill her instead of send a scout after her, he had no doubt that they would’ve done it without a second thought. It therefore made no sense that Gurien would want the Vagabond kept safe.

The soldier winked. “That’s another reason you were chosen—none of us would volunteer. But you aren’t a member of the guard, yet. Doing this will put you in Gurien’s favor.”

“Then I’ll do it.”

“We suspected as much.”

“I’m honored,” Braeden said after a pause. “But why was I really chosen to do this?”

The soldier looked down at him. “No one has ever spent for more than five seconds in the ring with Gurien. You lasted over five minutes.”

Braeden laughed.

“Now listen,” the soldier continued, “If she’s attacked again along the way, don’t sacrifice yourself to protect her. You’re a good man, and the many others who rallied for her cause in the past died for it. We want you to make the city your home, so come back when you’re bored of that rural hole of a village you come from.”

The Kirelm slapped him on the back in farewell and pointed down to the valley below, implying that this was where Braeden should leave. He twisted his wings and pulled upward, back into the cloud cover with his brothers.

Braeden watched the soldier disappear and shook his head in disbelief, laughing. He’d just been assigned to do the very thing he’d infiltrated the Kirelm kingdom to do. If Hillside ever became unsafe, at least he had a second home.

The valley whizzed by below, nothing but streaks of color in his peripheral vision until he focused his eyes. A herd of deer ran through gaps in the tree canopy, appearing for only a second as he passed them. He grinned. It was easy to appreciate the Kirelm body. Its wings were two extra weapons at his disposal. His sight, hearing, and sense of smell were all sharpened. Even his skin was thicker; he should have been cold, soaring at this speed, but the air ran over him like a warm breeze.

The sweet, biting aroma of roses flooded his nose, so he dipped beneath the clouds. Sure enough, the Rose Cliffs towered over the silent valley, much closer than expected. Rosebuds blocked out sections of the brown rock, blooming wherever there was a gap or crack.

Kara blurred through a break in the clouds ahead. She still flew at the front of the line on her griffin, with Gurien close in tow. The general eyed her, but shifted his gaze away each time she glanced over her shoulder. Braeden groaned. She should have just worn the dress.

The cliffs were only a few hundred feet off, now. He tucked his wings tightly to his body and dove, falling like a rock. The woods loomed closer. Wind poured over him, stinging his cheeks as he picked up speed. The forest pulled closer. He could see the veins in the top-most leaves of the trees.

He spread his wings to slow his fall and slapped them against the air, but he overestimated his own strength and crashed through the canopy. Twigs snapped. Leaves scattered around him. Branches flew by as he maneuvered and ducked. He finally hit the dirt with a thud, knees bruising from where they dented the soil, but the bruises healed as quickly as they appeared. Radiant light shone through a hole in the branches of the tree, marking his tumbling path. He’d have to work on his landings.

Gurien’s distant outline was visible through the hole as he flew with Kara’s griffin to the Rose Cliffs. The company hovered in the sky, beating their wings in quick bursts to keep themselves stationary as they waited. Gurien floated above Kara when she landed, said something inaudible, and returned to his fleet. The swarm of Kirelm soldiers flew off into the distance.

Braeden waited seven minutes before he finally lost sight of them. He looked down at the little stone and rubbed the glowing silver rune before he shoved it in his pocket. The tree limbs were unbroken and sturdy, so he climbed to the highest branch that could support his weight and jumped off. He caught a draft once he cleared the tree top and turned upward, toward the rocky peninsula above, always keeping his distance from the thick clumps of roses blooming across the rock. The origin of the Kirelm bloodline might have been nothing more than a legend, but he wasn’t about to risk anything.

The edge of the cliff came sooner than expected. He scaled the curve and stumbled into his landing, skidding a few feet on his heels and flapping his wings to maintain balance before he managed to stop.

Kara sat on her griffin, looking him over with cocked eyebrows for a moment before she recognized him. She laughed.

“You’re not a graceful bird, huh?”

He shrugged, grinning.

“It’s good to see you, Braeden. I was beginning to think you got used to all the pretty ladies and the bowing and that you left me to fend for myself.”

“I was already bored and we were barely there two days,” he lied. He stretched his wings and yawned. He wasn’t about to admit how much fun he’d had, not when she still looked so irritated.

“How did they not see you just then?” she asked, eyeing his broad wings.

“They told me to leave, Kara. Gurien assigned me to look over you. They aren’t all bad.”

“The entire experience was still annoying.”

“They weren’t altogether fond of you, either. You’ll have to work on that.”

She grumbled, and he decided not to press the issue. Instead, he looked out over the cliff and eyed a waterfall at the edge of his vision. Behind it was the lichgate they needed to take them to the Villing Caves.

“How do you like the view from up here?” he asked.

“I’m not a fan of heights, actually.”

“Excellent! Because we have to go that way.” He laughed, pointing over the steep drop. “The only lichgate around here that will take us to the Villing Caves is behind that waterfall in the distance.”

“I don’t even see a waterfall.”

“Exactly,” he muttered, walking closer. “It will be a trek, so let me change and then we can go.”

He trudged into the tree line and pulled out the fresh change of Lossian clothes from the pack he’d hidden behind a tree trunk. He paused over his Hillsidian tunic and compared it with the thin pair of trousers from a village just outside of Losse called Atao.

Fact was he missed his Hillsidian form, even with the added power of the Kirelm body. It would be safest to travel as his Hillside self anyway, since he was most comfortable with it, so he switched without bothering to take off the Kirelm uniform. It would be too big for him once he changed.

His muscles tingled and numbed, his body shrinking as he focused on the olive skin tone that he’d grown so fond of over the years. The stretching ended almost as soon as it began, and he looked down to see his familiar tanned hands. He threw on his Hillsidian clothes and stuffed the Kirelm and Lossian fabric into his pack before returning to Kara. She lounged on the griffin’s back in the shade of a tree, waiting for him.

“That’s better.” She smiled and offered her hand to help him up.

He grabbed her hand, a spark igniting in his fingers at her soft touch. Ignoring it, he hauled himself into the seat behind her without pulling on her at all.

“Onward!” He pointed toward the horizon and noted with a sad pang that he could no longer see the waterfall in the distance.

The griffin bolted for the cliff. Kara tensed and grabbed the feathers on its neck, which made him laugh as he reached around her to balance himself. His arms brushed hers as he did so, the satin bodice of her traveling clothes both cool and soft. He swallowed hard and looked at the sheer drop ahead of them, trying once more to ignore the way he had trouble breathing when he touched her.

The griffin jumped off the cliff and spread its wings, curling them after a second to dive into the forests below.

Kara screamed at first—a lot—but the terror became uncontrollable laughter not long after the griffin rolled out of the dive. They had no reins and no saddle; there wasn’t anything to hold on to but the beast’s feathers, which he noticed were already quite rumpled from her grip.

Three hours later, they landed to make camp before the sun set. Braeden leaned against a tree with a loaf of bread and watched Kara scratch the griffin’s forehead. The beast squeezed its eyes shut like a puppy at her touch. He chuckled and closed his eyes, too, basking in the last of the day’s hot sun and relishing the breeze as it rolled through the forest.

“I want to name it,” Kara muttered.

He peeked through his eyelids to see her sit against his tree. She scooted closer, until her arm brushed his. He grinned.

“It’s not a poodle.”

She opened her mouth to speak but paused as a different, unknown thought seemed to consume her. He eyed her and finished the last of his bread, wondering what she wanted to say, but he remained silent while she formed her words. She wrung her hands and stared at the griffin, eyes out of focus. When she finally spoke, her voice was almost too soft to hear.

“Why are you really here, Braeden?”

“If I recall properly, I’m protecting you,” he said, smirking as he leaned his elbows on his knees.

“Yeah, but why?”

He ran his hand through his hair. “Okay, we can do the heart-to-heart thing. I won’t lie to you. At first, it was only because I wanted to ask the Grimoire a question.”

“What question?”

“It’s more of an inquiry, really. I hoped the Grimoire could break my tie to the Stele.”

The griffin squeaked and twisted its feathered head to glare at him. He assumed the noise had been a gasp or something to that effect, but it had sounded more like someone stepped on a mouse.

“But that would make you a vagabond. And everything in yakona life is tied to the Blood, right? The people’s power fuels his power. Everything here seems to need that kind of balance. I get the feeling that making you a vagabond would break that. There wouldn’t be an Heir. What would happen when your father died?”

He cleared his throat and went silent, shifting his gaze as he toyed with his words.

“There is a legend that, when a Blood dies without an Heir, all of his people die as well. Everyone with the blood loyalty.”

There was silence. He peered over to her, but regretted it. Her mouth hung open in horror. She furrowed her brow, but her shock melted into revulsion as she seemed to realize that he was entirely serious.

“I can’t believe you!” Kara pushed herself to her feet. He reached for her arm, but she batted him away.

“Kara—”

“That was your plan, wasn’t it?” she interrupted. “You just wanted to use me to kill all of those people? You’re no better than Gavin! There have to be hundreds of thousands of Stelians!”

“Seven million if you count the villages,” he corrected. “But don’t compare me to Gavin! He wants revenge. All I want is to be free. Besides, you’ve met Stelians. You know what they’re capable of. They aren’t the nicest—”

“They’re still people! Well, yakona. But it’s the same idea,” she said, pacing. Her eyes roamed the forest, looking at everything but him.

“Kara, sit down for a minute and listen to me.” He snatched her wrist when she walked by and gently pulled her back to sit on the ground beside him. She still wouldn’t look him in the eye.

“It’s wrong and—”

“Think about it, Kara. Think about what Ourea would be like without the most vicious race in this world. Stelians rule the evil things here and enslave everyone else.”

He curled a finger under her chin and turned her to look at him. She still scowled, which cast a small shadow over her gray eyes. Her look of disgust made his stomach churn. He wanted to be ashamed of himself, but as many deaths as this would cause, he was right. The Stele had nothing good left in it to save.