Eden Forest (Part one of the Saskia Trilogy) (19 page)

There wasn’t a trace of last night’s events. Everything is cleaned

up, but I can still smell blood and vomit.

“What’s happening?” I ask Neve. The sound of my voice

makes the bustle in the room stop.

“Everyone leave,” Morrick orders. “Not you,” he says while

looking at me. I hold my head high to hide any signs of fear.

Nobody seems to move. “That is an order.” The room clears.

My mother lingers as she walks past me, but I don’t acknowledge

her. I just stare straight ahead at Morrick, and then we’re alone.

“Sit down, Sarajane,” he says as he takes a seat.

“I prefer to stand.” At least if anything happens, I can run.

The feel of the dagger in my boot gives me some comfort, not

that I know how to use it.

“I was trained as a guardian from the age of five in hopes

that one day I would be king. Our training was harsh compared

to now. The king at the time was into dark magic, always

seeking more power. He brought darkness upon our lands. So

many died of starvation or the plague. King Paulus held public

hangings every week against people that had not committed

crimes, but no one dared to question him or they might find

themselves with a noose around their own necks.” Morrick’s

face takes on a faraway look. “Nierra was head guardian at the

time and he was to step up as king. Bellona loved him. She was

still a princess, but soon she would be queen.” Morrick’s eyes

are full of grief. “Nierra was my closest friend; he was a brother

to me.”

He takes a deep breath. “When it became King Paulus’s

time to step down, he wouldn’t. Power, he ached for it. So

he murdered Nierra, leaving his own daughter heartbroken.

Bellona shut down after that and coldness crept into her soul. I

became next in line to be king, so I knew Paulus would kill me

or I must kill him first.” Morrick rises and pours red wine into a

goblet. He drinks it down in one quick gulp. He keeps his back

to me while still holding the goblet. “We rebelled. In all the

commotion, King Paulus got away, never to be seen again. But

now rumours of him gathering an army have surfaced.”

Morrick turns to me then. “I never loved Bellona. She wasn’t

capable of love, and she was rightfully my best friend’s. I need

you to know you were conceived from love. I truly love your

mother.”

Relief swells in my chest. I hadn’t realised I was more upset

about finding out I was born from an affair than knowing I had

a different father. But I don’t believe I could ever look at this

man as my father. Not now anyway with my cheek swollen and

bruised. The throbbing reminds me of what he did. We stand in

silence. Maybe he’s waiting for me to say something.

“Sir, the horses are ready,” Legis says from the exit.

This takes Morrick out of his daze. “Thank you, Legis.”

“We have to leave. Bellona is aware we are here and when

Clive doesn’t return, she will come,” Morrick says to me in

monotone.

“Where are we going?”

“Aquaterra. I have loyal friends there who will protect us.”

“Protect us from the queen, Morrick?” She couldn’t be that

strong. Morrick is the king.

Morrick laughs drily. “The queen, King Paulus and an army

of exiles, which I believe you have already encountered.”

I shiver at the memory. “What are they?”

“Criminals who have been banished to the mountains for

their crimes.”

Disbelief ripples through me. “You’re saying they once were

human-looking?”

“That’s exactly what I am saying.”

Chapter Twelve

Saskia

(Sarajane)

L
egis has the horses saddled and waiting when we all

come out of the cave. Morrick informs Tristan that I’ll be

travelling with him. Tristan pulls me up roughly behind

him, and I’m faced with his back, a wall of steel.

“There was no paper in the study,” he whispers to me as we

wait for everyone else.

I saw it, read it and held it; someone must have destroyed the

paper. But who? And why?

“I made it all up,” I say to Tristan’s back.

He swings around, his eyes ablaze with anger. “You made it

up?”

“No. But you think I did so what’s the point in explaining

myself when you’ve already made up your mind?”

His anger subsides. “I don’t know what to make of you,

Sarajane.”

I flush. He’s staring at me intently. His breath caresses my

cheek. My skin feels too exposed. And then I’m faced with

his back again. I let out the heavy breath I wasn’t aware I was

holding.

Mum doubles up with Legis and Alana with Liber. Kiar and

Neve ride alone. Neve’s hands are bandaged, but he doesn’t

seem to struggle holding the reins. We’re moving slowly over

the rocky area.

Neve rides up beside Tristan and me and gives me a

mischievous smile. “How’s your back?” he asks.

“Still stiff, but I’ll survive.” I glance at his hands. “Your

hands?”

“Sore, but I’ll survive.” A big grin spreads across his face,

making his nose look more crooked than usual. I can’t help but

laugh.

“You’re a bad influence, Neve.”

He tries to hide his smile. “It was your idea.”

“No, Neve, it was your bright idea to show off,” Kiar says,

riding close to us.

Neve looks embarrassed. “Things go wrong, even with the

best of us,” he says, causing Kiar to laugh.

“Yes, I have heard of people with level three fire affinities

sending rooms up in flames, nearly killing people.” Neve’s face

is bright red. Kiar loves teasing him, but the reality of what

could’ve happened plays on my mind.

“If you ladies are finished talking, we are going through

the mountains soon. So try and be alert.” Tristan’s voice is

like ice. I roll my eyes at Neve, but his face is serious. “Yes, sir.” He falls behind us with Kiar. I want to punch Tristan for ruining

the only good thing I have in this godforsaken place.

Moving through the mountains is painfully slow. Everyone

is on edge. When the creature attacked me in the desert, I

remember Tristan saying he was a long way from the mountains,

so this is where they must live. I tighten my grip on Tristan and

he tenses but relaxes after a few moments. Darkness rolls in

along with a cutting wind. I hang onto Tristan closer, soaking

up his body heat.

“We will reach camp in one hour.” Tristan’s voice is low, but

it carries along the wind. My teeth are chattering from the cold.

“O… k… aay,” I reply through numb lips. The horse under

us starts to get uneasy; it slows down suddenly. Neve’s horse

rears up behind us.

Morrick’s booming voice renders me frozen with fear.

“Exiles.”

Tristan jumps off the frantic horse, leaving me with nothing

to hold on to. The horse rears back and I try to grab its mane,

but my fingers slip through and I go tumbling to the ground.

Tristan grabs me just before I hit the ground. “Stay behind

me.” He pushes me back with his hand while withdrawing his

sword and getting into a battle stance. My eyes shoot over and

back, looking for the exiles.

“Move in closer,” Morrick calls to us from his horse. My

mother and Alana are behind Liber and Legis. Neve and Kiar

stay close to Tristan and me. I crouch down, removing my

dagger from my boot, not that I know how to use it, but maybe

I’ll get lucky.

Everybody’s breath forms white clouds in the cold air. The

horses have started to settle down. “Maybe they were just

passing,” Legis says up to Morrick. But we all move in closer.

My hands become slick with sweat, contradicting the bitter

cold night. I rub my palms on my trousers to dry them.

An ear-piercing screech breaks the night’s silence and

then they charge. Running at full speed down the side of the

mountain towards us. The first one to reach us literally runs

into Tristan’s awaiting hand where his neck is snapped. I crouch

down, feeling sick, all I can hear every few seconds is their dying

screeches, but they keep coming.

Kiar roars in pain beside me. One of the exiles is hanging

on to his leg by its teeth. I run over against Tristan’s protests

and dig my dagger into its eye. The exile immediately lets go,

squealing.

“Thank you,” Kiar says, looking green.

Another one races for me. I have no dagger now. I back up

and hit the stone wall of the mountainside. I can see all the

exile’s teeth; its mouth is wide open, ready to bite. He freezes

an inch from my face and crumbles to the ground, an arrow

sticking out of the back of its head. My eyes meet Morrick’s. He

just nods and continues to fire his bow.

Neve fights two exiles as I help Kiar against the mountainside.

Legis, Liber, Neve and Tristan tighten in front of us, while Kiar,

my mum, Alana and I stay behind them. Morrick flanks to our

right, firing arrows from his horse. There are too many; they

will tire us out soon.

“Kiar, give me your sword,” Alana says in a stern voice.

Kiar laughs through his pain. “You’re a girl, not a warrior.”

“Don’t say I didn’t ask nicely.” Before Kiar can respond,

Alana punches him in the face, knocking him out. She kicks his

sword off the ground into the air and grabs it. If that were me, I

would’ve lost all my fingers. She gives me a grin. “I will have to

help protect you, princess.” She pushes her way between Neve

and Tristan and fights.

Neve is knocked off a bit by the sight of Alana fighting,

but he recovers quickly. Tristan gives no reaction. Typical. I

have a newfound respect for Alana. She’s a quick and graceful

fighter; she moves easily as if she knows their steps before they

even attack. I watch as she and Tristan share a knowing look.

Jealousy boils my blood. She is beautiful, sharp and can protect

herself. I go right back to hating her.

I check on Kiar’s leg; it is bleeding pretty bad. “Mum.” She

comes to assist me, pulling off Kiar’s belt from around his

waist, which holds five fighting knifes. He was really expecting

trouble. She tightens the belt around his leg just above the

bite to slow down the bleeding. Taking off her own cloak, she

presses it against the wound. A chunk is missing from his leg,

displaying shredded tissue. My stomach coils, but I manage to

keep it down.

The fighting dwindles. Tristan and Alana finish off the final

few. “You have quite a talent, Alana,” Morrick says with pride

in his voice.

Alana blushes, something I didn’t think she was capable of.

“Thank you, King Morrick.” She bows her head.

“Saddle back up. We need to leave before more return,”

Morrick says while turning his horse. Tristan helps get Kiar

up on Neve’s horse. Since Neve’s horse is vacant, I jump up

on it awkwardly. I took riding lessons when I was younger

so hopefully I can still remember. Once I’m up, I feel proud

Alana isn’t the only one with a hidden talent. No one passes

any comment; only Tristan barks orders at me to stay in front

of him. Alana glances around at me. I give her a grin and she

snaps her head back around.

Riding is more exhausting than I remember. My thighs burn

in no time from holding my body to suit the rhythm of the horse.

Moving through all the exiles’ bodies is disgusting.

Once we pass through the mountains, we hit the desert at

full speed. Light shines in the distance; a camp is set up with

two fires burning and several tents. As we race closer, a man

stands, waiting on us. The closer we get, the faster my heart

pounds. I know this man. He was in my head, talking to Adora,

or Linda. It feels like a lifetime ago.

“What’s wrong?” Tristan asks from behind me. My posture

must have stiffened. We’re too close to camp for me to explain.

Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know where to start.

Morrick reaches Mirium first and embraces him.

“Nothing,” I reply to Tristan just as we reach Mirium. I slow

my horse down and get off as gracefully as possible, which isn’t

graceful at all. Mirium is greeting my mother when his eyes fall

on me. He pulls off the wise old wizard perfectly, with his long

white hair and beard. He holds a staff in his left hand and a

long royal blue cloak frames his body.

“Sarajane.” He bows his head slightly to me.

“Mirium.” I bow back.

My mother looks startled. “You know Mirium?”

I don’t know why, but I lie. “No, I heard you use his name.”

My mother gives a relieved smile. “Of course.”

I don’t return her smile; I’m still too angry with her. Tristan

and Neve pass me, carrying Kiar to the closest tent. They greet

Mirium as they pass.

“Come. Food is ready,” Mirium says to the rest of us.

A young girl no older than sixteen hands us a bowl of stew

and a roll of bread each. She smiles and gives everyone friendly

greetings. When she reaches me, her eyes focus on the ground as

she stretches out my food towards me. “Princess.”

I take it, feeling confused at her behavior. “Thanks.” Her

eyes shoot up and she just stares at me in awe and fear.

“Navada, please join us.” Mirium pats a space beside him.

Navada bows to me and scurries over to Mirium.

I eat every bit of my stew and bread roll. Once everyone

is finished, they trickle off to their tents. Morrick, Mirium,

Tristan, Neve and I are all that is left. Tristan and Neve dig into

their own stew.

“What do you make of all of this, Sarajane?” Mirium asks,

catching me off guard. My thoughts had returned to home.

“Sorry, of what?”

Morrick looks annoyed with my response. “Saskia.”

“It is different from my world.”

Morrick’s jaw clenches. “This is your world. You are not

mortal, Sarajane.”

I shoot Morrick a glare. I knew I wasn’t mortal. Mum

explained to me the day at the willows that we’re partial

immortals; our lifespans are longer. But this isn’t what I meant.

“I’m more mortal than Saskian.”

Mirium looks amused by all of this. “And what does it mean

to be Saskian?” he asks me with a glint in his eye.

This all feels like a test and for some reason I really don’t

want to disappoint him. “Loyalty to this world is what makes

one a Saskian.” I truly believed this. Tristan’s loyalty to his king

never faltered, and Neve and Kiar’s to Tristan. It all trickled

down, and their loyalty was unshakable, all for their world. I

gave the right answer by the way Mirium’s eyes sparkle. “And