Stormseer (Storms in Amethir Book 3) (35 page)

"Yar? Are you all right?" Azmei had dropped back alongside him. He could feel her watching him, but he scrunched his eyes closed. He knew he was acting like a child. He didn't care. He wanted to hate her. She'd made him love her, made him trust her, and then she betrayed him.

SILLY MORTALS, said Wise Uncle Voice.

Yar glared at her. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She sighed. "I'm supposed to be dead. I had to be sure I could trust you." She tugged her hood up to shade her forehead better.

Yar looked away from her. They were in the foothills. Everything was brown and ochre and tan. The sky was hot and blue overhead. In front of them, behind the tallest hills, loomed a darkness that beckoned him. He shifted in the saddle and wished Azmei would leave him alone.

"You didn't tell me about your Voices right away," she pointed out.

"That's different!" he snapped. The Slithery Voice snickered in his head.

"Is it?" Azmei finally looked away from him. She scanned their surroundings and turned to face forward. Yar didn't answer her. He didn't have an answer. It
felt
different, but maybe it wasn't. He didn't care.

YOU SHOULD CARE. YOU MUST KNOW YOURSELF, LITTLE BROTHER, BEFORE YOU REACH US. YOU MUST SEE INSIDE YOURSELF.

"They're talking to you more now, aren't they?" Azmei asked softly.

Yar glanced ahead to see if Hawk was listening. "We're close. I think...it's like they don't have to reach as far to me." He saw her nod out of the corner of his eye.

"You're the princess," he burst out. "My sister was supposed to kill you. Why don't you hate me?"

Azmei shrugged. "
You
didn't try to kill me. I'm sorry she left you."

He glanced sidelong at her. "You're not sorry she's dead," he accused.

"Not really. You can't attack the princess and escape punishment. But I am sorry you lost your sister."

He looked away again.

SHE SPEAKS TRUE, LITTLE BROTHER. WE KNOW. WE CAN TELL.

How is it you could never tell before?
Yar demanded.

WE AREN'T TRYING TO REACH AS FAR TO HER NOW. The Voice snickered in his head. Yar rolled his eyes and looked back down. He ran his fingers through Firefoot's mane.

"I don't like the look of that sky," Hawk called back. "We're going to turn west for a bit. Let's see if it clears up down that way."

Yar glanced up in time to see Hawk turn his horse. Azmei waited until Firefoot turned before she, too, turned west. At the change in directions, Yar's head squeezed. He whimpered, lifting a hand to press at the pain behind his brow.

"Yar?" Azmei murmured.

"No. South, Hawk. South," he whimpered. "We're going the wrong way." With every step Firefoot took, the throbbing in his head grew worse. He clutched at his head. Hoof beats moved away from him. Azmei had caught up to Hawk.

The singing subsided as the pain increased. It meant Yar could hear their conversation without straining.

"How accurate are those visions of his?" Hawk asked. He sounded like he'd tried to lower his voice, but Yar didn't care.

"I don't know." Azmei paused for three ever-more-painful steps. "He knew your name."

Hawk was silent.

"What's so bad about this Shrouded Vale, anyway?" Azmei asked.

"Besides the fact that the mouth of the vale is always wrapped in a wall of mist or fog or...something?" Hawk's voice was sardonic.

"All right," Azmei said after a moment, "besides that."

Hawk snorted. "I've never been there. I've never met anyone who has. I've never even met anyone who claims to have been anywhere near it. People don't go there."

"How do you know? Maybe they go there and it's so nice they just stay."

Hawk snorted again.

"What do you think is there?"

"Who knows." Hawk cleared his throat. "Maybe a clan of magic users. Maybe man-eating monsters. Maybe it's where the gods sleep."

The Voices chuckled in Yar's head. He shivered. Gods? He hoped not. He couldn't believe the gods would be like his Voices. What god would be the Slithery Voice? And anyway, weren't there too many Voices to be the five gods?

"Let's go closer tonight," Azmei said. She lowered her voice, but the pain subsided briefly so Yar heard her. "Maybe he'll change his mind tomorrow."

He wouldn't. But let her think that, if it got them to ride south. Yar lifted both hands to squeeze his head, trying to change the pressure inside his skull.

Firefoot shifted under him and the pain in Yar's head faded until all that remained was pressure with no discomfort. Firefoot had turned south. Yar opened his eyes to make certain Hawk and Azmei had, too.

Hawk's shoulders were set, his back very straight. Yarro wondered if he were angry at Yar or at Azmei. Yar didn't want Hawk to be angry with him. He didn't know why, but he liked Hawk right off. He wanted Hawk to think he was right.

Then one of the Voices snickered in his head again and Yar was swept into the song.

***

Azmei frowned at the haze in the southern sky. Over her right shoulder, the sun had faded into a diffuse golden-tan light. Everything she could see, including Hawk, the dun, and herself, was golden-tan. Even Yarro's cloak blended in. Only Firefoot stood out, his bright bay head held high despite the rising wind.

Yar hadn't spoken since before midday. Azmei couldn't tell if he were still angry at her, or if he had just decided to put up with her until they got to wherever the Voices were leading him. Once or twice she had seen his shoulders jerk, but that could just be the sand flies.

Sandy's hooves rang faintly against the rocky trail. Azmei hoped his shoes held out. She'd planned to have them checked in Rivarden. Then again, she'd planned to do a lot of things in Rivarden. She had
not
planned to find the legendary commander who had just barely been released from captivity, and she'd certainly not planned to skip Rivarden entirely. She sighed and shielded her eyes to look ahead to where Hawk led them. Was the haze to the south thicker? Maybe it only looked that way because the sun was lower in the sky. She glanced to the right again and frowned. The sun had slipped behind a bank of dark clouds.

Was that a storm? She hadn't thought there would be much rain this close to the desert. Just because they'd left the sand dunes behind them two days ago didn't mean the country here was much more forgiving. The wind gusted her hood back off her head. Sandy nickered.

"Yarro?" she called over her shoulder. She looked back. He was riding with his head down, swaying slightly with every step Firefoot took. He'd fallen into a stupor again. Damn those Voices, anyway. Who were they? What did they want from him? He was such a bright boy, despite his naiveté. If he could just escape the clutches of these tyrannical visions, he could make something of himself, now that he was away from his family.

Azmei sighed and urged Sandy into a trot. As she pulled abreast of Hawk, he glanced over at her and her stomach jumped. He was handsome, despite the sadness carved in every line of his body. She wondered what he had hoped for when he learned he would be free again. Did he have a family awaiting his return? Had he expected to take up his position in the army again?

What did you think of first, when you learned you were coming home?
she asked herself, and almost smiled. That was easy. The coffee and the doves and the spices. Maybe that was what Hawk had thought of, too.

She realized he was watching her, a quizzical half smile on his face. Her cheeks burned as she straightened in the saddle. "Do you know the weather out here?"

He raised an eyebrow and looked to the south. "That's not weather," he said. "That's the Shrouded Vale."

"Maybe that is, but what about the wind? Look," she said, pointing. The wind was blowing her hair across her face. She squinted, trying to see.

Hawk swore. "That doesn't look good."

The bank of clouds was building, rising into towering cliffs that ranged in color from dark brown to purple. Azmei swallowed and looked from the cloud bank to the southern haze. Neither direction looked appealing, but she could tell from the way the wind was picking up that turning around would do them no good.

"What do we do?" she asked.

"We should find shelter," Yarro said. Azmei jumped. He'd come up quietly enough that she hadn't heard Firefoot's hoof beats above the rising wind.

Hawk raised his voice to be heard. "Our best bet is to ride for the hills. There might be a dry cave or a tumble of rocks we can shelter in. We should—Yarro!"

Firefoot had broken into a trot. Azmei swore and nudged Sandy. "We can't lose him!" she called back.

After a few minutes at that pace, Azmei found herself leaning forward, wanting to urge the dun faster. The wind was whipping her clothes around; she could feel the lash of sand against her cheeks. She squinted, concentrating on keeping her eyes on Yar.

She'd never seen him so confident. He shouted for them to follow and cut off uphill at an angle across the wind. Azmei screamed at him but he didn't look back. Against her better judgment, she turned Sandy after him. A few moments later, Hawk's black outpaced her. After only half a minute, Azmei felt the wind drop as they entered some hidden windbreak. Behind her, the building storm seemed to howl like a beast that had been denied its prey, but ahead of her, she saw Yarro let Firefoot slow his trot.

Hawk caught up with him first. She heard the sharp tone he used, but not the words. To her surprise, Yarro snapped back, and that she did hear.

"Shelter!" He slowed Firefoot again so Azmei caught up. When he looked over at her, she caught her breath. His gaze was vacant, but he was somehow completely alert. "There's a cave. Not big, but enough for us—all of us." He paused. "Horses too."

"How do you know?" Azmei demanded, but he was already urging Firefoot ahead.

She didn't have the breath to question him further. She exchanged a wary look with Hawk, and they followed in silence. The dun trotted on without hesitation, and Azmei decided she had faith in her horse, even if she doubted Yarro's voices.

To her astonishment, it was barely a handful of minutes before Yar was guiding Firefoot to a gaping cave mouth in the cliff wall. When he reached it, he dismounted and beckoned to them. She halted the dun beside Firefoot and Hawk's black and slid down, her feet sinking into soft sand. How could Yarro have known this cave was here? The Voices had to have told him.

As soon as they got under cover of the rocks, the howl of the wind dropped to a low moan, rising and falling in pitch but almost quiet enough to ignore. Sandy shook himself violently, pelting Azmei with sand. She let go of his lead, confident he had no desire to go back out into the storm.

For several heartbeats they stood in the near dark, letting their eyes adjust and—in Azmei's case, at least—digging sand out of ears.

"Do you have a torch?" Yarro's voice echoed back to her.

"Just a moment," Hawk rumbled. Azmei stood still until she saw a spark flare ahead of her. A few moments later, shadows loomed around them. The light was comforting. There was a cozy intimacy to their shelter from the storm. The back of the cave wasn't visible in the flickering light, but it didn't matter somehow.

"I'll build a fire and brew some tea," Hawk said, "if my lady will care for the horses." Azmei gave him a pleased look and did as she was told. He'd finally begun treating her like a person instead of a princess. She could only hope it would continue.

Finally she could shake out her bedroll and sit in front of the fire. She leaned against her pack and took the steaming mug Hawk handed to her. "How did you know about this place, Yar?" she asked.

His complacent expression shadowed, his eyes hooded. "They told me. They know we're close."

"Who are these beings, Yar?" Hawk's head was bent to stare into his mug, his face half in shadow.

Yarro didn't answer for a long time. Azmei listened to the howl of the wind and the crackle of the fire. Finally Yar said, "That's what I'm going to find out."

"How do you know they're not luring us into a trap?" Hawk asked.

This time, Yar didn't answer. When Azmei peered through the darkness at him, she saw that he'd lapsed into a trance, his eyelids lowered until only the gleam of the firelight told her his eyes were open. He wasn't rocking in place, but he didn't speak again.

Azmei glanced at Hawk and found him watching her. She told herself the sudden warmth was from the fire, but she suspected she was blushing. What was it about those charcoal eyes that made her feel so strange? She took a hasty sip of her tea but didn't look away. After a moment, Hawk smiled slowly.

"Why do you follow him, my lady?" he murmured. "Half the time he seems a halfwit, though I can tell there's more to him than that. But how did you come to know him? He seems convinced you killed his sister."

Azmei cupped her hands around her mug and breathed in the scent of the tea. "In a way, it's my fault she's dead. But mostly it's her own fault. Orya traveled with me to Ranarr when I went to meet Prince Vistaren. The Ranarri Diplomats had arranged a treaty between us and Amethir, if Vistaren and I would agree to marry. I agreed to meet him, and someone—"
Arisanat?
"—objected to that." She sighed. "I didn't realize at the time that Orya was an assassin. We became friends on the ship. It was nice to have someone near my age to talk to." She smiled wryly. "Until she tried to kill me."