Read On the Meldon Plain (The Fourline Trilogy Book 2) Online
Authors: Pam Brondos
“A little splash won’t hurt, but don’t drink it until Benedict tells us it’s clean. Mudug’s poisoned wells off the main travel routes. Keeps the merchants together and makes it easier for him to exploit their travels.”
She cupped her hands and splashed the water on her face again. Streaks of dirt covered her hands as she rubbed her skin. She looked longingly at the water, then followed Mervin through the stable door.
Benedict waved his thin arm in the air. “It’s good for the horses, but I have one more test to run before we can drink it,” he called down to Mervin. Nat studied the shadowy opening again. A collapsed wooden frame poked out from the blades of grass in front of the door.
“The Sisters used that passage to get from the main House to the stables and those small buildings we passed,” Mervin explained as he led one of the horses to the trough. Nat tugged on the lead of the other horse. She felt like she was pulling a bowling ball tied to a string. The horse lifted its massive head. Grass stuck out of its mouth.
“I wonder why they didn’t build the stables closer. We’re on the far side of the hill.” Her horse nudged her to the side when it smelled the water. Bits of green grass swirled around the water trough as the horses drank.
“You can’t always have formal negotiations. If a Sister needed to negotiate with a party discreetly, they would avoid the House and use the smaller buildings. With the stables so far away, not everyone would see who was coming or going. The Emissary Sisters understood the need for discretion. Maybe a little too well,” he added. His hands knotted the horses’ leads to a sturdy post. “I saw more than one rabbit off the road,” he said, changing the subject. “I’m not settling for a slab of rudit tonight. There’s a ball of wire in the wagon we can use for traps.”
“Rabbit’s better than rudit,” she agreed. “Anything is better than rudit.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The soft rabbit fur slipped through Nat’s hands. Mervin’s pile of skinned rabbits lay in a pink heap next to him. He snapped the bones and sliced chunks of meat into the black pot. The fire hissed as droplets of water boiled over the rim. Andris had agreed to a fire, despite the danger that someone might spot them.
“If Mudug’s guard passes through, they’ll find Mervin, eating stew and resting after a long day of travel. He has a legitimate reason to be here, and the guards already know he’s traveling this way,” Andris explained tersely when Nat questioned the logic of starting a fire. “You worry about getting yourself out of sight and in position behind those boulders if someone approaches.”
“The guards never come here,” Mervin said as he stirred the pot.
Benedict crumbled bits of a dark-green herb into the stew. “It’s not the guards we need to worry about.” His face was dour and his eyes flickered toward Soris. Nat flinched. The Hermit was on a roll with his insults and innuendos.
“Soris or Annin will let us know if the Nala are around.” Andris sliced his knife through Nat’s skinned rabbits. He tossed a piece to Soris, who speared it on the tip of a pointed branch. Nat looked toward the tower. Andris had sent Annin there on watch before they’d started the fire and after she’d threatened to skewer Benedict when he’d called her a Nala spy.
“They didn’t provide much warning back at the river, did they?” Benedict continued. Nat widened her eyes in disbelief at the words rolling off his tongue. “The creature almost had the Sister.” Deep lines curved down the side of his mouth when he looked at her. “Luck kept her from getting bitten, not those duozi.”
“I’m right here, Benedict. Hearing every word you’re saying,” Soris said. He eased his knife over a tip of a branch. Bits of bark flicked into the fire.
“Soris saved me.” Nat lifted off her heels and pointed her knife at Benedict. “I didn’t see you jumping up to help, and since when did you become so concerned about me?” Andris shot her a warning glare. She lowered her knife and wiped it on the overgrown grass.
“My concern is that we’re trusting them to provide a warning.” He thrust his finger at Soris. “The Nala never used to come this far north. How do we know it wasn’t them that led that Nala to us? How do we know that—”
“I would’ve warned Nat if I’d sensed a Nala, but I didn’t until it was too late.” Soris kept his eyes fixed on the boiling pot. “That creature felt different than a normal Nala.”
“Different?” Benedict scoffed. “You expect me to believe that? Your kind can sense the Nala miles away. Estos put this mission in danger by sending you. The best place for your kind is away from humans.”
“Enough!” Andris barked, but Benedict paid no heed. It was as if he’d been storing hundreds of hateful thoughts and decided that tonight was the time for the world to hear every rant.
“Admit it, duozi follow the call of the Nala, they follow their ways. You don’t belong among humans.” He squared his shoulders and faced Soris.
Soris clenched his jaw. Clutching his knife and the pointed branch, he stood and took a step toward Benedict. Mervin laid a hand on his arm, restraining him.
“You’re nothing but a danger to us all. You belong in Mudug’s mines with all the other duozi!” Spittle flew from Benedict’s mouth. His voice rose to a hysterical pitch.
“Duozi in mines?” Soris’ expression changed from rage to confusion in a blink.
“Before Oberfisk left, he told me the guard had spilled that Mudug has all your like doing his dirty work in his mines.” A look of malice clouded Benedict’s face. “If I didn’t despise Mudug, I’d congratulate him for keeping you mind-twisters away in a hole where you belong.”
“One word of praise for Mudug, and I will bind and gag you and see you spend the rest of this mission in misery.” Andris’ voice cut through Benedict’s labored breaths. “And my brother is not a mind-twister.”
“Andris, you’re letting emotion control your better judgment,” Benedict said in a condescending tone. “He may have been your brother once, but now he’s a vile, manipulative half-breed. Just look at how he’s wheedling his way into the mind of a weak-willed Sister.” Benedict gave Nat a contemptuous look.
Soris leapt on top of Benedict. His knife, bloodied from the rabbits, nicked Benedict’s throat. Nat could feel his anger and saw a look of true fear in Benedict’s eyes. Andris rushed forward and grasped Soris’ hand.
“Soris, let him go.” Mervin’s low voice reverberated around them.
Soris looked at the cowering old man beneath him and dropped the blade. He stood and backed away, shaking off Andris’ grasp. He glanced at Nat, breathing heavily through his flared nose, and stormed away into the stable.
“You will control your tongue,” Andris said through clenched teeth as he lifted the Hermit to his feet.
The fear drained from Benedict’s face. “I am only doing my duty in warning you. You saw how he attacked me.” He looked white as the bleached rock underneath him.
“Spare me talk of your duty.” Andris rose to his feet and stalked up the hill, disappearing behind the boulders.
“Go find more sage,” Mervin said to Benedict as he stirred the pot. Benedict limped away, muttering to himself. Mervin retrieved the speared bits of rabbit smoldering in the fire. He dropped the charred pieces into the stew, broke the branches, and stoked the flame. The blackened pieces of meat looked like chunks of burnt wood bobbing in the boiling stew.
“Cohesive group, eh?”
Mervin’s voice startled Nat. She’d sat frozen through the entire confrontation. She looked at him. Steam rose around his face.
“No,” she replied. “Not in the least.” Benedict’s hatred and Soris’ response were like a nightmare playing out in real life. “I’ll check on Soris.” She stood and brushed the bits of fur from her tunic. Mervin nodded and dug his long wooden spoon deep into the pot.
The sound of splashing water resonated through the stable. Nat paused near the nickering horses tied up near the stable entrance and watched Soris splash his face with water. He ripped off his soiled tunic and leaned his hands against the trough. A blue tint colored his neck and his right arm and formed bands across his upper chest and abdomen. Nat could see his pained expression and the tightness in his muscles as he clenched the side of the trough. Her heart ached for him. She wanted nothing more than to hold him and magically make everything he’d suffered since turning into a duozi disappear.
“Benedict’s views are warped,” she said softly as she approached him. His green eye met hers. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“Easier said. When you hear the same insults over and over, they’re hard to ignore.” He thrust his tunic into the water.
“Soris, consider the source. Do you really care what Benedict thinks?” She stepped closer, wondering what she could say to ease the look of pain on his face.
“No, but slighting you like he did put me over the edge. My brother didn’t help, either.” He faced her and leaned his hip against the trough. “Andris was angrier about Benedict praising Mudug than insulting me.” She heard the hurt in his voice.
“Andris meant to defend you. He’s your brother. He loves you and is looking out for you. Even I can see that. He just doesn’t have the softest manner,” she acknowledged, finding herself in the odd position of defending Andris.
“You think so?” His brow arched above his human eye. “Why am I just now learning that Mudug has duozi slaves in the mines? You’d think if my brother was looking out for me and my interests, he would have passed that bit of information on.”
Maybe he’s worried you’d do something stupid if he told you,
Nat thought as she watched the anger ripple over his face. How angry would he be if he knew she’d had the same information and forgot to share it with him?
“He probably wanted to keep the focus on rescuing Emilia,” she suggested, knowing the explanation was weak.
“Maybe.” He crossed his arms over his bare chest and took a deep breath. Nat felt warmth in her cheeks as she watched him breathe. The urge to touch him, to comfort him, was overwhelming. His expression softened. “Why do you worry so much about me, Natalie?” His words surprised her.
“I . . . I care about what happens to you.” She felt her eyes growing moist.
Do not cry,
she told herself.
“Maybe you shouldn’t. There was some truth to what Benedict said, about me getting into your mind.” She looked in his eyes and saw a glimmer of sadness. “You’re strong.” He moved closer to her. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Strong, intelligent, and beautiful. I’ve never met anyone like you.” She tried to read his expression while controlling the fluttery feeling in her chest. “But even as strong as you are, the closer you are to me, the easier it is for me to enter your dreams and stay in your dream space, even if you don’t want me to.” He dropped his arms to his side. “That’s what happened the other night when I saw your dream.” He met her eyes. “I’d never try to twist your thoughts or dreams, but Annin can teach you how to shut me out. I’d understand.” He pressed his arms rigidly to his side. Nat sensed there was something he wasn’t telling her, but the look of resignation he wore concerned her more.
“Why would I want that?” She took a small step forward and placed her hand on the raised scar marring his shoulder. The blue welts felt hard under her fingers, like little stones implanted under his skin. “Why would I want to keep you out of my dreams or my dream space? Why would I want you anywhere except by my side?”
His neck muscles tensed under her touch. He backed away from her. He turned around with extended arms, giving her a full view of his blue skin and fused fingers. She examined every inch of his exposed skin, the tapering of his hand, and his faceted eye.
“Because I’m half Nala and an outcast.” He dropped his arms.
Without hesitating, she rushed to him and entwined her arms around his back. His skin felt cool against her flushed cheeks. His arms hovered uncertainly around her waist, then pressed against her. “I don’t care. Don’t you know that?” she said softly. “You’re why I came back to Fourline and why I’ll stay,” she vowed, not wanting to let him slip away from her ever again.
“You really believe there’s a chance for us?” he asked, his voice filled with doubt.
“I do. I have to.”
“I’m an outcast, Natalie. This won’t be easy,” he whispered into her hair, but his strong arms held her tightly.
“What’s easy is never worth much of anything.” She brushed her hand across his chest and took in his uncertain expression, as if he were waiting for rejection. She stood on tiptoe and kissed him lightly on the cheek before he could reply. He raised her off the ground, and she lost herself in the growing warmth of his embrace and the sensation of his lips on hers.
One of the draft horses pawed the floor. The animal flicked its head toward Andris as he stood in the shadow of the stable entrance. Andris took a deep breath, shook his head, and walked away, leaving Nat and Soris alone in the stable.
“Veer left,” Annin said.
“Left?” Nat smacked into a broken beam. A jagged splinter of wood scratched her temple. She probed the tender spot and her fingers came away sticky with blood.
“How are you so clumsy?” Annin asked and let out an exasperated breath. She groped the deep pockets of her robe and removed a small linen bag. Nat’s orb hovered between them, casting faint shadows against the dark dirt walls of the passage leading from the stables to the remains of the Emissary House.
“My orb was up with you because you were complaining about the dark, remember?” Nat winced as Annin inspected the cut under her orb’s light. She looked past Annin toward the rotting wooden frame where she’d banged her head. The frame was like all the others she’d seen in the tunnel. The once-sturdy columns of capped wood wept with moisture. Long splits ran along its moldering surface. Dirt and ancient cobwebs covered the delicate birds carved into the column.
Annin rubbed her thumb across the gash, pushing ointment into the cut. Nat sucked in a quick breath. “Don’t be such a baby,” she said. Her fingers pressed against Nat’s scalp, holding her hair away while she patted a thin strip of linen against the wound. Annin twisted Nat’s hair to the side and wrapped a band around it.
“Thank you.” She touched her hair just above the cut. The wound throbbed, but the ointment and bandage seemed to hold.
“You’re welcome, but . . .” Annin jerked her chin upward. The light from the orb glinted off her Nala eye. “Don’t move,” she whispered. Nat’s fingers twitched toward her dagger, but Annin shook her head. She felt a light pressure against her shoulder, like something was hanging off the side of her cloak. Without turning her head, she looked out the corner of her eye. Two furry legs as long as her fingers tapped against her collarbone. A golf ball–size body connected to eight legs crawled on top of her shoulder. Her heart pounded against her chest as she brought her hand slowly across to brush away the gigantic spider.
“Don’t,” Annin whispered, her voice so faint Nat could barely hear it. Annin’s Nala eye contracted. The spider tumbled down Nat’s arm, pausing in the crook of her elbow. The black body shone in the light. Its size dwarfed her hand, and the stiff bristly hair on its pointy legs brushed against her skin. Annin extended her arm toward Nat, and the spider crawled onto her cupped palm. She lifted her hand near the wall. The spider disappeared into a crevice by the broken beam. Nat brushed her hands over her arms. Her skin crawled.