The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil (82 page)

“And if we stop, we place ourselves at risk of being separated again like what happened at the tavern tonight. That frightened me, Callum. I still don’t understand how we managed to get out of there together. If we keep pressing our luck, we might not be so fortunate next time. It’s best we stay on the road and not stop until we are with the others. We will be safer in a group, and my father can tend to whatever illness I may have – though I must insist that I am perfectly healthy.”

“I don’t think you have been healthy since we left Tunir. Unfortunately, arguing with you has never been my strong suit in the past,” Callum sighed. “If you insist on continuing, then we will, but if you begin to weaken, I will stop, and you will no longer have a choice in the matter.”

“I must insist then,” Aiva pulled her hand away from Callum to shakily take the reins again. “We’re too close to stop now.”

Hanging his head in defeat Callum’s frown deepened, nodding to Aiva begrudgingly. “Come then,” he said quietly, nudging his horse into motion. “We should try to cover as much ground as possible. We’ll stop again in the morning to check the map. Until then, let’s just try to keep close to one another.”

By morning she was beginning to believe Callum was right about her illness. Her entire body felt exhausted. Winded without exertion. Riding along the road, she stared down at her hand, swollen and bruised, trembling uncontrollably, violent shivers coursing through her spine. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt this terrible. All she wanted to do was curl up into the warmth of the horse’s mane and go to sleep.

They made good time throughout the night. Upon checking the map they were over a third of the way to Targas. By nightfall they would be past the halfway point. It was enough to push her to continue the journey. Sick or not, she would reach the city. She had faith that her father was there. Oh, how she wanted to see him! It pained her to think how long it had been since she saw his face last. Not since the night Shaelyn disappeared. Nearly two months past. Had it really been so long? It felt only yesterday since her mother had dressed her in bridal finery and walked her down the aisle at the palace in Escovul. So much had happened. So much had changed!

If only her mother could be in Targas with the others. Aiva longed to see her. To hear her comforting voice. But her mother wouldn’t be there. She would be in Sivaeria with Calie. A better place for her. Calie would need someone. A strong support to counsel her through the chaos that would follow the arrival of Kaemin’s body to Tanispa. Aiva hated that she couldn’t be there for her as well. Not that she would be much comfort. They would only weep together and drown themselves in their tears. Even that seemed better than nothing. Calie needed her family. Her friends. She had no one but the Queen and her own mother who would possibly be more distraught than anyone else. Valeska took death very seriously. She would be no help to her daughter.

Aiva argued against stopping for food at lunchtime, and again for dinner. Her stomach reeled uncomfortably. Eating sounded a horrible idea. If she took in anything, it would no doubt be impossible to keep down. She had been sick from simple stomach illnesses before. The discomfort was familiar enough for her to know when not to chance consuming food. If they kept moving through the night, they would be to Targas before sunset the next day.

Callum travelled at her side, saying nothing, his discomfort almost palpable. She knew he could sense her growing sickness. With every glance in her direction, the concern deepened the lines around his face, taking in an occasional breath as if to speak, thinking better of it at the last second. There was nothing for him to say. She would argue any excuse he posed for why they should stop. The closer they came to Targas, the more insistent she became that they continue. Why stop now when they were right there? A single day away. It would be foolish to waste more time.

The road cut through a wooded patch of land, trees hovering tall on all sides, spread out in every direction, creating a heavier darkness that made visibility more difficult. Callum quickened his pace, giving nothing more than a wave of his hand to indicate Aiva to follow. She gave no hesitation. The area was unnerving. All around they were surrounded by places for anyone to hide which would be unperceivable from the road. Her imagination played tricks on her, strange noises causing her to glance from side-to-side, on edge at the possibility of something being in the woods. Waiting for them. Watching.

A crack echoed through the trees. Quiet at first. She wasn’t convinced it was anything more than her mind until she took notice of Callum’s stiffened form beside her, his head turned in search of what might have caused the sound. She didn’t dare speak. If something was out there, it would expose itself again. They needed to be ready.

It came again. Closer this time. A snap followed by a whoosh of air that reminded Aiva of an arrow being discharged from a bow, though where it was aimed, she couldn’t be sure. There was no sign of it along the road. A warning, perhaps? Or a sign for something else…

The thought had barely formed in her head when she became frighteningly aware of a loud clatter coming their way. Horses. Moving at a run along the road, the sound echoed as if from every direction at once. “Raiders,” Callum exhaled, struggling to maintain control of his horse where it danced nervously across the road at the commotion. “Bring your horse to a gallop, Aiva. We need to cut through them before they surround us.”

Her heart pounded, increasing the lightheadedness that already plagued her. She was in no condition for a fight. Leaned forward in the saddle she pressed the horse faster. The rain had eased somewhat but the road remained mud-covered and slick. All around the thud of hooves grew louder. She could see them now, coming from the trees. The riders were dressed in black, masks pulled over their faces to cover them from view. They were closing in at incredible speed. Fear forced Aiva to push onward. She didn’t want to know what would happen if they were able to catch up.

“Try to get in front of me,” Callum shouted, slowing his pace to allow Aiva into the lead. “Whatever you do, don’t stop, do you hear me? I don’t care what happens to me, you keep going.”

“I’m not going to leave you behind!” Aiva was in a panic. What was he talking about? Nothing was going to happen to him. She wouldn’t let it. Sick or not, these men were not going to separate them. Sparing a glance over her shoulder she could see them getting closer. There were too many of them. In the cover of the night and the trees, they blended into the shadows, an outline the only thing she could see to indicate their whereabouts.

A clash of metal echoed from behind as Callum drew his sword to defend against an attack. They moved faster than she expected. Two more were coming in from the side, cutting off Callum’s horse from hers. Wildly her horse spun under her frantic directions. Callum was on the ground. She needed to get to him.

Sword in hand, she rushed toward the men now coming in strong. She counted at least six or seven, more clattering along the road in the distance. Callum’s voice shouted at her from somewhere. He wanted her to go. Had he lost his mind?

An arrow shot into the ground at her horse’s feet, causing it to rear up, a loud whinny echoing through the trees. Her numb hands failed to keep their grip, fingers sliding from the reins, her body tumbling backward out of the saddle. The men were on her instantly, lifting her from the mud. She could feel them carrying her between two horses, one clutched tightly to her legs while the other maintained control of her arms. Every pull of the animals drifting apart created a sharp pain in her stomach, screams torn from her lips against her will. She hated to give them the satisfaction.

She fought to pull her feet free. Thrusting outward with her legs she kicked futilely at the man holding her. His grip was too firm and without a means of gaining leverage, she was at their mercy. In that instant she found herself wondering if this was what Shaelyn felt when Ireni’s men took her away. The fear of not knowing what was going to happen. What they wanted. These men were no good thieves. They lacked scruples. It meant nothing to them that she was frightened out of her mind. If anything, they enjoyed it. Reveling in the screams that continued to flow from her mouth.

Her feet suddenly dropped, the man holding them slumping over the saddle, an arrow lodged squarely in his back. She screamed louder out of pure reflex at the sight, her body hoisted onto the saddle with the man still holding her up. Callum was shouting her name. Was he coming? Had he gotten back on his horse? “Callum!” she cried out, desperate for him to say something.

Disarmed of her blade, she had little in the way of weapons to utilize against her captor. Her back was bent at an unnatural angle across the saddle, jerked and strained with every step the horse took. It was excruciating. She tried to sit up but the man held her down, his elbow striking hard against her left eye.

They were breaking from the group. Away from the road, she was struck by low-hanging branches and vines, thorns scraping her skin mercilessly. Something sticky poured over her cheek. Blood. She was cut, though by what, she couldn’t be sure, nor did she care. It meant nothing in that moment. She needed to get off the horse. To find her way back to the road. The further this man took her, the less chance she had of getting to Callum. Gathering her strength, she tensed her abdomen to lift her upper body, hands clasped together tightly, utilizing them like a hammer to the side of the man’s head. The bottoms of her fists made contact though it had little effect. In response to her strike he delivered another elbow to her face, white specks of light filling her vision under the force of the blow. Her head reeled. She couldn’t think. Blood suffocated her, filling her nostrils, forcing her to breathe through her mouth.

Finally she felt the man bring the horse to a stop, dragging her gruffly from where she laid across the saddle. Planted on her feet, she swung her fist at the man, the power of her strike knocking his hat away, exposing long, sandy blond hair overtop a tightly wrapped bandana which covered his mouth. Angered by the successful blow, he tore the fabric from his face, spitting the blood from his mouth into her eyes.

Reaching upward she tried to grab onto the vines, vaguely aware of their rough surface against her palms. Her fingers were numb. It was impossible to know if she was having any luck convincing her body to do the things she commanded it to, but she couldn’t hesitate. Cadell had taught her that a moment of hesitation could mean the difference between life and death. Counting on her muscles to do what she asked, she pulled herself up by the vines, swinging her legs forward, the heels of her boots driving hard into the man’s chest, sending him stumbling into the thick foliage.

It didn’t take long for him to recover. He drew a sword from his waist, slicing wide over Aiva’s head, cutting down the vines to remove them from the trees. She released her hold at the last second, feet firmly rested upon the ground. Her right foot bumped against a thick branch, her hand sweeping low to take it in her grasp. Gripped tightly, she used it as a barrier between her and the sword. He forced her back against a tree, arms coming down hard, the blade of his sword cutting through the wood easily, leaving her defenseless.

She discarded the broken halves of the branch on the ground. She needed to think of something fast. Her dagger. It was better than nothing, although useless against a full-size blade. Fumbling at her thigh she found the sheath there, quickly drawing the weapon. It was larger than she remembered. More suitable for the fight. The fine craftsmanship made it sturdy. Reliable. Its edge was sharp, unsightly notches left behind with every strike it met against her enemy’s sword. He gave a ferocious growl, tossing his weapon aside to come at her with his hands.

He was a strong man. Tall and muscular. Scars along his face and neck told of the numerous fights he’d been in over the years. He was no stranger to the tactics Aiva used. Pressing her against the tree once more he bent his elbow, digging his forearm into her neck. With a solid blow he punched the underside of Aiva’s wrist, painfully mashing the bones as she cried out, the dagger falling from her grasp where he held her arm, pinned at her side against the uneven bark. Any feeling she thought had been regained to her right hand was gone.

This wasn’t the time to think about the pain. Her knee shot up between the man’s legs in hopes of loosening his grip against her neck. She couldn’t breathe. Her throat contracted, crushed under the pressure of his arm. The blow did nothing to ease his grip. Instead it served only to anger him, his free hand tangling in her hair to slam her head viciously into the tree. Her cries were muffled. Choked.

In a blur of motion he pulled her from the tree, throwing her down on the ground. He wasted no time climbing on top of her, his knees positioned over her legs to keep her from kicking. A new wave of panic crept into Aiva’s mind. No longer was death her only fear at the hands of this man. Callum had warned her about the men in Luquarr. His concerns had never been about the loss of coin or personal belongings. He spoke only of trying to keep them away from her. He knew what they were like.
You fool! That was why he told you to keep going!
He knew he would be able to handle himself. In turning to go back, she handed herself to them. She was what they wanted. Whether it was to sell her into slavery or simply take advantage of her before killing her, it made no difference. She had always been their target.