The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil (22 page)

“We cannot take it with us,” he shook his head. His response was less than direct, though enough to affirm Aiva’s suspicions. “The heat will quicken decomposition. To keep him around would risk illness to the rest of us. I do not want to simply leave him here in the desert, but I can’t spare the men to see the remains back to Tanispa. We are short-handed enough without losing another. We need to keep on the road. Our enemy is not far. If they are close enough to kill us, then they are close enough for us to find if we move.”

“Then we can move,” Aiva nibbled her lip thoughtfully. She felt obligated to think of an answer. He was counting on her; much the same way that their people would be counting on Callum to bring their Princess home, regardless of Aiva’s personal concerns of his loyalty. If she couldn’t offer him solace, then there was no hope for Shaelyn. “When the night starts to fall, we will no doubt be finding a place to rest for an hour or two. In that time, we can try to arrange some form of ritual to properly bid Phelan’s spirit farewell. Fire, perhaps? Some words of prayer around a pyre?”

Slowly he moved his head, settling his gaze on Aiva’s. He stared at her in silence, the expression on his sun-bronzed features beginning to soften. “You are handling this better than I expected.”

“Handling what?”

“Death. For some reason I was prepared for screaming and weeping at the sight of the blood. Similar to that which you displayed in Eykanua over the man in the alley.”

“If you consider heaving the contents of my stomach over Kaemin’s feet to be handling it well, then I suppose.” She couldn’t help but laugh at herself in embarrassment. The daughter of the great Leyna Evantine – unable to stomach the sight of death.

“And I… I am sorry if I frightened you. That man would have been a threat to us if I allowed him to live.”

“I don’t agree with your decision,” Aiva stated firmly. Even while posing as his friend, she didn’t have to accept everything Callum did. “The way you handle your battles is your business, however. There was just something about seeing you kill someone. It is difficult to explain.”

“You don’t have to. I’m sure I have put you out enough by speaking with you already. I should just be grateful you didn’t leave me standing here alone.” Averting his gaze once again, Callum started to walk away, focused on the men still standing around the horses. They were waiting for him. Anxious for a directive from their Captain. Aiva thought to stop him, not sure exactly what she would say if she was to call out. Nothing felt right. In her head it was a confused mess of whether or not she should relish his uncertainty or sympathize for his troubles.

Afraid to stand away from the group for too long, Aiva hurried over the hot sand after Callum. It was an unexpected turn of events. A good start to her plan of getting closer to Callum. The look she’d seen in his eyes told her that he didn’t hate her the way she thought he did. He still valued her opinion, the same as he always did as a young man. Gaining his trust would be easier than she expected. Then it would just be a matter of time before she could bring him to justice.

“Let’s keep moving,” Callum called out, taking hold of the reins on the horse bearing Phelan’s corpse. “When nightfall comes, we should look for a place to set up a brief camp. Phelan will be tended to properly at that time. Until then, keep your eyes open. I don’t want to lose anyone else.” With a final glance at Aiva, Callum motioned calmly toward the wagon, an almost saddened glint in his umber eyes. “Will you humor me and stay out of view for at least the next few miles?”

She shifted uncomfortably, aware of the other soldiers watching them. Their change in attitude toward one another had everyone confused. A bit too curious. “I thought I was supposed to receive no special treatment?”

“I changed my mind, for the moment,” he stated. “Will you concede to my request? It would ease my conscience greatly if you complied.”

Nodding her head, Aiva climbed onto the wooden planks of the supply wagon, settling herself among the crates along the front. She disliked the idea of the other men thinking her weak for not continuing at their side, while at the same time the soreness in her muscles made it impossible for her to turn down a chance to get off her blistered feet. The oversized leather boots were not the most comfortable for the journey she’d undertaken in them. “Only for a few miles,” she replied, not wanting to let Callum know of her relief at his request. It was easier if she kept him on his toes. “I will let you know when I intend to join the men on the road again. So do not think I will let you keep me in here for the rest of the day.”

Callum patted one of the horses on the flank, shifting the wagon into motion. “I am well aware that no one can keep you anywhere for an extended period of time, Princess,” he said quietly, snapping his fingers to signal the others forward. “I am willing to accept whatever you will give me.”

The heat from the makeshift funeral pyre was a welcomed warmth next to the slight chill of the evening desert air. Flames lifted upward, dancing across Phelan’s remains, leaving everyone in dampened spirits. Quiet. No one knew what to say. Callum had given a brief eulogy, offering prayers to Sytlea, the Vor’shai goddess of the underworld, beseeching her to be merciful to Phelan’s soul in the afterlife.

Aiva had never considered herself a religious woman, but the soldiers revered their deities with a passion that surprised her. They prayed softly in the dimming light of the sun. Once it sank below the horizon, they would no longer have the protection of the sun goddess, Sarid. For as fearless as the soldiers were in the face of death, they were remarkably superstitious. Nighttime was considered more dangerous without Sarid shining down upon them. It was why the stars were there, the ancient heroes of their people. Past Kings and Queens; keeping watch over the Vor’shai during the night. And the moon, protector of the stars, the emissary Kalana, sent by Sarid, to create the light which kept the God of Dreams at bay. Diqun. The ruler of the night. Once a month, nearly every thirty-two days, Diqun was said to pull a veil over the moon’s eyes, vanquishing Kalana’s light, and allowing him to run amok. It was on that night, when the watchful eyes of the moon weren’t there to protect them, that the Vor’shai feared the shadows. Sytlea was known to claim more lives in those nights.

She’d never cared much for the stories as a child. They were unnerving. But the soldiers bustled about to make camp, setting up their tents, speaking in whispers to the sky overhead. Curious, Aiva turned her gaze upward, taking note of the darkness. Only a tiny sliver of the moon could be seen. They only had another night, two at most, before the oppressive darkness would be upon them. But they couldn’t stop. Shaelyn was close. Diqun could give them his worst; Aiva wasn’t afraid of him. Her sister was too important for some evil spirit of the night to keep her away.

Hugging her arms tight, Aiva took in the area around them. Gadiel continued to track their enemy, surprised to discover their path shifting southwest, taking them away from the Palinoen border.

They had set their camp near a small oasis not far from the road, providing a place for them to bathe and refresh themselves from the miserable heat of the journey. Right now the water was all Aiva could think about. Her body was gritty and sweat-covered. It would be better for her to find her way down to the pool before the men finished assembling their tents, in order to take advantage of what little privacy she could get.

Aiva gathered a clean pair of pants and a shirt from her bag inside the wagon. The men were distracted by their work, allowing her to slip away unnoticed, relieved by the thought of having some peace and quiet. Her head had been filled with confusion since Phelan’s death that afternoon. The reality Callum warned of was beginning to set in. She didn’t like it.

She tossed her clean clothes down on the sand next to a large rock which jutted out into the water, providing the perfect protection from the spying eyes of the men. Sliding her boots off her feet, she stared down at her toes, grimacing at the sight of dried blood and sand covering her skin. It felt good to let the air reach them. It would feel even better to let her feet soak in the warmth.

Hesitant, she undid the laces of her pants, keeping her shirt held tight against her until she had entered the water before tossing it back toward the shore. Kneeling, she submerged herself in the pond, leaning back to let the water rush over her head and face. It was heavenly. She hated the thought of returning to land. To do so would only bring more dirt. More grime. She longed to be back in the sensible climates of Tanispa. Once Shaelyn was safe, they would never set foot in Carpaen ever again. Why anyone would live there was beyond Aiva’s understanding. It was miserable. If the Underworld existed on Myatheira, she imagined it was Carpaen.

Floating around in the lake, she let time pass by. They intended to stay at camp for just a few hours. She had the luxury of sleeping in the supply wagon for a portion of the trip, making rest less important to her now than it was for the others. She felt more refreshed in that instant than she had since first stowing away with the troops. If only they had a nice warm meal to fill their stomachs, she might be perfectly content.

Just as she began to contemplate leaving the water, she suddenly felt as if there was someone else there. Close by. Sinking down, she wrapped her arms across her chest to conceal her body from view. Slowly she started to edge toward the rock. It would provide a shadow for her to hide in until whoever it was had gone away. She only hoped they hadn’t seen her before she became aware of them.

“Who is there?” Callum’s voice sounded sternly from the shore.

Aiva exhaled. Of all the men, he was the one she was least concerned about having found her. Enemy or not, he wouldn’t dare do anything foolish. The soldiers knew of their unstable relationship. It would make him the prime suspect if she came up mysteriously missing. Or dead. It was the one minor guarantee of her safety from whatever evil plans he might have. Her shoulders sank guiltily at the thought. So far she’d witnessed nothing which proved his dishonor. After the unfortunate incidents of the day, she felt he was deserving of a little kindness from her. It would, after all, help to gain his trust in hopes of hearing the truth of what happened in Siscal with Ireni.

“It is only me,” she called out, keeping her tone low to avoid drawing the attention of anyone at the camp.

“Ah, Aiva,” he sounded relieved. From her position near the rock, she could see the soft glow of Callum’s eyes turn in the direction of her voice, peering into the darkness where she crouched in the water. In his hands she could see the familiar shape of a lowering sword, Callum’s guard relaxing. “You should have mentioned to someone that you were coming out here. A less thoughtful soldier might have thought you an enemy.”

“Then I’m lucky it’s only you. However, I must ask that you turn around so I can retrieve my clothes.”

“That won’t be necessary. Here,” he bent forward to place something on the ground near the water, the light of his eyes disappearing as he turned away. He made no move to leave, only giving her enough space to return to shore.

She chided herself as she saw it. A towel. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Putting on fresh clothes while dripping wet would have been quite a chore. She waded to the edge, taking a hold of the towel. Wrapping it around her body, she felt a slight dampness to the fabric, casting a confused glance at Callum as she climbed out of the water. “It is wet.”

He laughed quietly to himself. “Well, yes,” he nodded, turning to face her, his eyes opening wide in surprise to find that she was not yet clothed. “You really should put something on.”

“I am covered. You do not appear to be entirely so.” Aiva looked Callum over in the darkness, noticing him dressed in a pair of black trousers which clung to his slender waist. His physique was impressive. Clothing did him little justice. Up close she could see the finely-toned muscles in his arms and chest, well-defined down his sides and mid-section. In his uniform he looked sturdy, but without it, he was a rock. Her hand reached out to touch his chest, as if not believing him to be real. “You look different than the last time I saw you without a shirt.”

“I was – only a child then,” he chuckled nervously, staring down at her hand, seemingly unsure of how to react. “Edric used to make me look frail in comparison. I told myself I would not let that be the case when I returned.”

“You certainly succeeded.”

“And you still are not dressed.” Awkwardly Callum stepped away, moving to the pile of clothes laid out beside the rock where Aiva had left them. He bent over to pick them up, offering them to her while still averting his eyes. “Is your brother aware that you have run off with his clothes?”

“By now? I suspect he has figured it out.” She accepted the garments, holding them absently in her hands. Callum was uneasy around her. She found it humorous. “Is it common for the Captain to wander around camp without a shirt on? If so, then I worry about my mother’s history…”

“I came to the lake for a wash myself. It didn’t take long for me to discover I wasn’t the only thing in the water. Now, if you will please cover yourself. I do not feel right standing here with you in such a state of undress.”