The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (3 page)

The young wizard had destroyed a dragon and demolished the Danaan capital, but using the ring Vaaler had stolen from the Danaan Queen had nearly killed him. As far as Scythe was concerned, if Keegan tried to use it again, he’d basically be committing suicide.

Maybe that’s part of the destiny Jerrod’s pitching
, she thought.
Maybe for Keegan to be the savior, he needs to be a martyr, too. Wouldn’t be surprised if Jerrod kept something like that from him
.

She didn’t trust the monk. He was using Keegan. But none of the others—not even Norr—could see it. Which meant she’d be the one who’d have to watch out for him.

But maybe you don’t have to do it alone
.

Vaaler had been even quicker than she to check on Keegan a few minutes ago. And he’d given up everything—his people, his family, his kingdom—to join their quest. If she could get him to see Jerrod the way she saw him, maybe the two of them could stop Keegan from doing something stupid down the road.

The night air was cold; autumn was upon them, and it wouldn’t be long before the first snowfall covered this region. Bracing herself against the chill, Scythe rolled out from the bedroll and made her way over to where Vaaler was tending the smoldering fire.

When they had made camp the first night after leaving the forest, Norr had shown them how to dig a shallow pit in the permafrost to reveal the black, loamy peat beneath. The peat burned slowly—with too much smoke, an odd smell, and not enough heat—but the lack of vegetation on the tundra left few other options for fuel.

The Danaan looked up as she approached, his eyes haunted and hollow in the sickly flames.

Maybe Keegan isn’t the only one who needs someone to look out for him
.

“Heard you get up,” she noted, coming over and crouching down beside him to capture the faint wisps of heat curling up from the fire pit. “Is Keegan all right?”

“Nightmare,” Vaaler answered softly. “He won’t talk about it.” “Can you blame him? After everything he went through, he probably just wants to forget about it for a while.”

Vaaler shook his head. “I don’t think these are memories. Keegan has the Sight. He’s not just a wizard; he’s a prophet, too. I think he saw a vision. It scared him.”

“Maybe he’s just overwhelmed by all this talk of being the savior of the world.”

“He is the savior of the world,” Vaaler insisted.

“You sound like Jerrod,” Scythe muttered, casting a quick glance to check if the monk was around. She couldn’t see him—most nights he took up a sentry position a short distance from the camp, using his mystical second sight to keep vigil in the darkness.

Satisfied she and Vaaler could talk in private, she asked in a low voice, “Did you ever think that maybe Jerrod’s wrong?”

“I’ve seen what Keegan can do,” Vaaler reminded her. “We studied together under Rexol—the most powerful wizard in the Southlands.”

“So why isn’t he helping us on this quest?”

“He’s dead,” Vaaler explained. “He tried to use one of the Talismans, and it killed him. Jerrod told me about it.”

“You’re not worried the same thing might happen to Keegan?”

Vaaler didn’t answer, his eyes dropping down to the fire.

“I’m not doubting your friend,” Scythe assured him. “But I just think Jerrod might be holding something back. He’s devoted to his cause, not Keegan.”

“Why this sudden interest in Keegan’s well-being?” Vaaler asked, his gaze coming back up to challenge her. “From what I heard, you were trying to kill him yourself not too long ago.”

“Things change,” was her initial explanation. But she knew Vaaler would need more if she ever hoped to win him over.

“I’m pretty good at judging people,” she added after a brief pause. “I can tell he’s basically a good kid at heart.”

Vaaler laughed. “Kid? He’s the same age as you and me.”

“But he seems younger. More naïve. More sheltered from the real world.”

“I can’t disagree with you there,” Vaaler conceded.

“I’ve seen the way you look out for him,” she pressed. “Like he’s your little brother. You just want to keep him safe. And whether you believe it or not, so do I.”

The prince pondered her words for a few seconds before asking, “But you don’t think Jerrod feels the same way?”

“I think he’s desperate to find his so-called savior, and he’ll do anything to make it happen.”

“You’re right,” Jerrod said, his voice coming from only a few feet behind them.

Both Scythe and Vaaler sprang to their feet and whirled to face the interloper. Neither had noticed his soundless approach.

Silence hung in the air for several seconds, awkward and oppressive. Scythe could feel her face burning with guilt and embarrassment, her mind fumbling with excuses and explanations. And then Jerrod turned away.

“Get the others up,” he ordered as he left. “It’s time to move. We’re being hunted.”

J
ERROD COULD SENSE
their pursuers gaining on them, but there was little he could do about it. The night was dark, the moon nothing more than a thin sliver barely able to penetrate the fog that had followed them since leaving the forest. It wasn’t safe for the horses to move at anything faster than a slow trot over the soft, uneven turf.

It was doubtful the animals could have run much faster anyway. Grass was scarce on the tundra; the horses had been slowly starving ever since they left the Danaan forest. With only four mounts among the five riders, Scythe and Keegan had been doubling up for the journey, though even together they were less of a burden than Norr. Jerrod had been careful to rotate the riders so that no one animal was overtaxed, but without food to replenish their strength it was a losing battle.

The monk focused his mental energies, casting out with his second sight to try to get an image of the hunters, but it was difficult to form a clear picture. In the Danaan forest the lingering aura of Old Magic clouded his vision. Here his vision was also limited, but in a very different way.

Though the Order tried to keep it secret, the monks drew on Chaos as much as any witch or wizard. But instead of unleashing it upon the world, they internalized it, using it to heighten their perception and awareness of their surroundings, drawing on it to
give them fantastic speed, strength, and endurance, even calling on it in battle to anticipate and counter the moves of an opponent before they happened.

Chaos on the plains of the Frozen East was weak and thin—like the air atop a mountain peak that left the lungs gasping and straining for breath. He’d heard many theories as to why Chaos was weak here, but none had ever made much sense. But the why mattered little to him now: all he cared about was how it was affecting him.

Everything was harder than it should have been. His body was slower and grew tired too quickly. He was unable to regulate his body’s temperature properly, causing him to shiver with the growing chill of the night. His all-encompassing Sight was restricted to a radius of only a few hundred yards, and instead of being instinctual he had to concentrate to keep the world around him from dissolving into gray emptiness.

That was why he hadn’t noticed the hunters before. He’d only become aware of them after slipping into a state of deep meditation when they stopped for the night: a half dozen Inquisitors traveling on foot, picking their way across the tundra as they followed the trail left by the horses’ hooves in the soft ground.

Like Jerrod, they would be limited by the lack of Chaos. But though the Inquisitors were lessened, the monks would still be more than a match for him and his companions … especially with Keegan still weakened from his battle with the dragon.

With a flick of his heels, he urged his horse forward, moving from the back of the line past Keegan and Scythe, past the Danaan prince, and up beside Norr. Jerrod had hoped his familiarity with the land might give them an advantage over their pursuers, but it was clear that even with their barbarian guide it wouldn’t be long before the hunt came to an end.

“They’re getting closer,” Norr said, as Jerrod’s mount came level with his own. His words were more statement than question.

“Our pursuers travel faster on foot than we can on horseback,” Jerrod answered.

“The same can be said of my people,” Norr agreed. “Horses are ill suited for this land.”

“Good—I’m tired of running,” Scythe called out.

The horse carrying her and Keegan had fallen a few lengths behind the others, but in the still night their words had carried far enough for her to hear their conversation. She was sitting in front of the young wizard, her hands on the reins while he rode behind, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist to keep his balance.

“Let’s send these Dweller bastards running back to the Forest,” she continued. “No offense,” she added, with a nod toward Vaaler as she drew up beside him.

“It’s not the Danaan chasing us,” Jerrod corrected. “It’s the Order. Inquisitors.”

“How many?” Keegan asked, poking his head over Scythe’s shoulder to be heard.

“Six.”

Norr laughed. “Six? Is that all? That’s barely enough for us to work up a sweat!”

“These aren’t simple mercenaries,” Jerrod cautioned. “Your people are not born with Chaos in their blood, so the Order has never had reason to venture into your land. You have no idea what the Inquisitors are capable of.”

“I’ve heard the stories,” Scythe interjected. “Their reputation always seemed a little overblown to me.”

“It’s not,” Vaaler chimed in, lending his support to Jerrod.

“How would you know?” she chided.

“The Order wants to eradicate my people. We’d be fools not to study them so we can separate fact from fiction. And the martial prowess of the Inquisitors is very real.”

“Remember how easily I defeated you in the tavern,” Jerrod reminded Norr. “The Inquisitors have similar training.”

“You just caught me off guard,” Norr protested, though his words lacked conviction.

“Do we have any chance of beating them?” Vaaler asked.

“Their power will be blunted here,” Jerrod offered. “Something about this land is … off. It will make them less formidable than usual.”

“So we are going to fight!” Scythe exclaimed with a savage grin.

“Instead of fighting, we should try to hide,” Vaaler suggested. “Is there a cave or hollow nearby?”

Jerrod shook his head. “We can’t hide from the Inquisitors. Their awareness is limited in this land, but now that they have our trail it is still strong enough to track us wherever we go.”

“We need somewhere to make a stand,” Scythe noted. “Somewhere they can’t sneak up on us or flank us.”

“You wouldn’t be so eager if you knew what we’re about to face,” Jerrod warned. “It’s likely none of us will see the morning.”

“We can’t hide and we can’t outrun them,” Scythe explained with a shrug. “If battle’s the only option, we might as well get up for the fight.

“Besides,” she added, pointing her thumb back over her shoulder at the young wizard. “We’ve got him on our side.”

“No!” Jerrod snapped before Keegan could reply. “He still hasn’t recovered. If he tries to summon Chaos, it will destroy him!”

“I’m not strong enough to use the Ring yet,” Keegan protested, “but I could draw on the power of Rexol’s staff.”

“Won’t do you much good without any witchroot in your system,” Vaaler countered. “And I agree with Jerrod. You’re still too weak to use any kind of magic right now.”

“So you’re saying I should sit by and do nothing while the rest of you fight for our lives?”

“You cannot put yourself at risk,” Jerrod told him. “You are the
savior of the world. Your life is more important than all the rest of us put together.”

“Speak for yourself,” Scythe muttered.

“The longer we argue, the closer our enemies get,” Vaaler interjected before Jerrod could say anything more.

“Scythe is right,” Norr added. “If we have to fight, we need to find somewhere that gives us a tactical advantage.”

“How well do you know this area?” Vaaler asked. “Any place like that nearby?”

The barbarian reached up and stroked his bushy beard with one mighty paw.

“I think we’re close to the Gruun River. On the other side is a small plateau where the ancient clan leaders used to meet. The
Gerscheld
—it means “High Place” in our language. There’s only one path to the top.”

“How far?” Jerrod asked.

“Two, maybe three hours from here.”

“Make it two,” the monk told him.

Keegan clutched his arms tightly around Scythe’s waist as their horse galloped through the night. The beast was nearing the point of total exhaustion: its legs were unsteady, its gait uneven. Combined with the unfamiliar terrain, the burden of two riders, and the night’s gloom, it was a small miracle their mount hadn’t already broken a leg and sent them both tumbling to the ground.

As it was, Keegan was holding on for dear life, his grip tenuous because of his missing hand. To compensate, he pressed his head and chest up tight against Scythe’s back. He could feel her lean, taut muscles beneath her shirt, flexing in rhythm with the horse’s gait.

Riding with her is the one good thing about being a crippled invalid
, he thought bitterly.

He knew Scythe and Norr were together, but he was still drawn to the young woman. She was undeniably attractive—her body was fit and athletic, and her Islander features were exotic and mysterious. But his infatuation went beyond her appearance. There was a fire inside her, a wild passion that came out in even the simplest tasks. Her every movement was quick and precise, her every action and word decisive and confident.

It’s no wonder she’s attracted to Norr
.

The redheaded giant possessed a similar, though more subdued, self-assurance.

Someone his size probably isn’t afraid of anything
.

Strong, confident, brave—Norr was all the things Keegan clearly wasn’t.

If I can’t even summon Chaos, then what good am I?

“I’m not going to just sit by while the rest of you fight to protect me,” Keegan suddenly declared, speaking only loud enough for Scythe to hear him.