Arcane Enchantment (Unbreakable Force Book 2) (2 page)

5

Aaric

A
aric was escorted by Bran and Donell to a small tent in the middle of camp and told to get some rest. He was to leave in the morning, when he would be given a horse and some provisions.

The night passed slowly, the morning dawning cold and wet. Tired from poor sleep, Aaric crawled out of his tent, his hands and knees damp from the morning dew.

Most of the camp was still asleep, but there were a few people awake, fetching water and tending to the horses.

Bran stood by the tent flap, his eyes rimmed with red. He didn't appear to have gotten much sleep either. He was holding two horses by the reins. One of the horses was saddled and laden with provisions. Bran motioned Aaric to mount that horse, and the two of them left camp without a word.

Aaric kept a wary eye on his companion, wishing he had his arc-bow. Granted, he’d rarely used it, but it would have been nice to have a weapon. However, Bran didn't act threatening and within a few minutes they’d left the nomads and now traveled down a small path.

Still in the woods, Bran led Aaric to the road. It was unpaved, but large enough for two or three horses to ride abreast. One way led to Aaric's city, the other direction would eventually take him south, to the cities there.

The tall nomad stopped. “Here you travel on your own.” Bran’s word broke the stillness. He hesitated then said, “No one really expects you to find it, you know. The sky jewel. Bets are that you'll just go home. Adaryn isn't for you, and the sooner the two of you figure that out, the better.”

Aaric smiled, arching an eyebrow. “Guess most of you will be surprised, then. I will return to claim Adaryn, Bran. Mark my words.”

Bran's face darkened, and his brown eyes flashed. “We will see, Oppressor. I plan to make sure she forgets all about you.”

Aaric didn't have a response for that that didn’t involve violence. He also didn't feel comfortable turning his back on the angry rover, but Bran didn't move, so he nudged his horse onto the road, heading south.

6

Adaryn

I
was wide awake, listening to the slow breathing of my father and brothers. Two days had passed since Aaric left. I needed to leave tonight or risk losing his trail.

Rising silently to my feet, I shed my blankets and pushed the tent flap aside, creeping outside. It was cold and cloudless, and the full moon hung in the sky like a ripe ghost fruit. It would be easier to find his tracks because of it, but I had to be wary in order to avoid the men standing guard.

Several minutes later I crouched in the foliage just outside of camp, a small bundle of provisions slung over my back. I slithered through the grass, heading south. My father and the chief had both forbidden me to go with Aaric; I hadn’t even been allowed to say goodbye.

I’d eavesdropped on Bran and his father the day Aaric left. Bran wouldn't tell me what direction Aaric had gone, but he had been forthcoming in telling his father. Oisin would be happy, of course, to get a sky jewel, but neither of them really expected Aaric to return. They assumed he would either go home, or perish in his quest.

I gritted my teeth in anger at the memory as I crossed a small trail. There were hoof prints in the soft dirt. Two horses, from the look of it. I silently thanked my father for teaching me tracking as I followed the trail.

It wasn't long before I found myself on a large, hard-packed dirt road. North led to Aaric's city, south led to Sen Altare and a few other cities. I had only been to Sen Altare once, when I was a child. The hoof prints led that way, so I followed on foot. I had to hurry. I was without a horse, and once my father realized I was gone . . . I pushed the thought from my head and focused on the trail, moving at a light jog. I focused on my breathing, preparing myself for a long run. The moon was bright and I still had several hours before dawn. I had a few days of travel ahead of me, more if Aaric had pushed his horse hard. I could only hope to find him before some fool man from the clan caught me and tried to haul me back. I growled with irritation and scanned the woods off to either side. Perhaps I could find a nearby farm that’d be willing to lend me a horse. I laughed at the thought.  There wasn't a farmer alive who would trust a nomad.

I took a deep breath of the cold, spring air and lengthened my stride. One thing I was sure of, I thought as I scanned the ground: I would find Aaric.

7

Aaric

I
t was dawn. Five days had passed since Aaric left the nomads. He was starting to worry about food. The rovers had given him some provisions, but they were scanty. He didn't know how to hunt and had yet to find a village. Seated off the side of the road, he rested his horse while he gnawed on some bread. The stuff was terrible; he didn't understand how anyone could call it food. It was dark brown, grainy and hard. It took several swigs of water to get it down.

He glanced over at the horse. The beast calmly chomped on the grass that grew to Aaric's knees. He grimaced. The grass looked better than the bread. He peered up the road. Surely a village could be found, soon, he hoped. He could do with a proper meal.
And some coffee, maybe,
he thought wistfully.

The horse lifted its head, ears twitching. In a moment Aaric heard it too, the faint sound of hooves. Aaric stood and, taking his horse's reins, edged further off the road. Still in the woods, he had seated himself at a bend in the road. The area had looked as good a place as any for taking a short rest, but now he realized it wasn't a wise choice if he wanted to see fellow travelers before they saw him. He’d only seen a farmer or two since he left the nomad camp, but didn't want to chance running into a brigand, or worse, someone from the city. He pulled his cap low and turned the collar of his coat up.

The rider came around the bend. The horse was a shaggy, small brown creature with thick, short legs and a matted coat. The rider was a woman. She saw him off the road and reined the horse to a halt. Aaric felt his breath catch.

“I was beginning to wonder if I was following the wrong trail.” Adaryn said as she pulled her hood back. Her hair was even messier than usual and her eyes had dark circles under them.

Aaric stepped out into the road. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, unable to contain his shock. “You're supposed to be with your family.” He narrowed his eyes as he took in her dust covered clothes and tired face. “Does this mean I have a tribe of angry men on my trail?”

Adaryn shrugged. “Probably.”

Aaric sighed and swung onto his riding horse, urging it onto the road. “Guess we better get a move on, then.”

“You're not going to try and make me go back?” Adaryn sounded surprised.

“Would it convince you to stay behind?”

Adaryn grinned. “Not really, no.”

They started down the road together, their horses walking at a brisk pace. Adaryn gave a brief account of her escape, starting with slipping past the nomad sentinels and her silent departure from the camp.

Something didn't add up. Aaric frowned. “If you escaped on foot, where did you get the horse?”

Adaryn flushed, biting her lip. Aaric's eyes widened.

“Adaryn . . . please tell me you didn't steal a horse.”

The woman at least looked abashed, but she stuck her chin out stubbornly. “I didn't steal it. I borrowed it.” She squirmed under Aaric's flat stare. “I plan to return it,” she said, looking away.

“You know, this is a perfect example of why people don't trust rovers.”

Adaryn turned her fiery glare onto him. “I didn't steal it!” she exclaimed fiercely. “I really plan to return it. Later.”

“And does the owner of the horse know that? Did he agree to let you borrow it?” Adaryn's gaz
e
slid away from him, confirming what he already guessed. Aaric sighed, lifting his gaze heavenward.

“We'll return it when we come back,” Adaryn insisted. “And pay them for their troubles.”

“I don't suppose we have much choice,” Aaric grumbled, ignoring the triumphant grin she shot him. She held his heart, but she was still quite uncivilized.

They traveled in quiet, comfortable silence for the next several hours, broken only by the trill of birdsong and the clop of horse hooves on the road. The forest gradually gave way to rolling countryside.

There still weren't any villages that they could see, but farmsteads and plowed fields became an increasingly common sight.

“So, what is your plan?” Adaryn asked.

“I plan to go to Sen Altare. My father knew some scholars who assisted him in several of his research projects. My hope is they can help me.”

“What makes you think they can?” Adaryn asked. She stifled a yawn. It was late afternoon. The young woman needed sleep, but Aaric wanted to keep moving until twilight in the event they were being pursued.

“I don't know for sure that they can,” he answered, “but I hope. Maybe they can give me a lead.”

Adaryn halted, sitting stiffly. Her head whipped up in alarm, eyes wide, nostrils flared. She cocked her head slightly as if listening. She reminded Aaric of a startled animal. He reined his horse to a stop and opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, but was silenced when she put out a hand for quiet.

A moment later, he heard it too, the quick clip of a horse's hooves behind them. Both of them turned to look, and saw a lone rider behind them. He or she was too far away for Aaric to see very well. Adaryn's eyes were sharper though, and she growled.

“Bran,” she spat. She turned to face the road again south, and urged her horse to a brisk trot, her back rigid, and her jaw set. Aaric followed after a moment.

“We can try to outrun him,” he said somewhat doubtfully. He eyed Adaryn's horse. He wasn't sure the thing
could
run.

Adaryn snorted. “This dumpy animal, run? Bran will be riding Star. There's no horse in our clan that can outrun him.”

Bran and Star were upon them in minutes. Aaric drew close to Adaryn. He wasn't sure what Bran would do, but he'd be ready.

8

Adaryn

O
f course it'd be Bran who came. I stared at the road, trying to control the wave of anger that washed over me as Bran reined his horse to walk alongside of us. Star was a black stallion with a white mark on his forehead, the reason for his name.

“Why are you here?” I asked through gritted teeth.

“I've come to take you home,” was his simple reply.

“Well, you've wasted your time!” I snapped. I turned to glare at him. He stared unabashedly back, his gaze unwavering.

“My father didn't think you would try a stunt like this,” Bran said, “but I knew better. I know you better.”

“You don't know me very well if you think I'm going back.”

Aaric didn't say a word, but kept his horse between Bran and me. I knew he was trying to protect me, but it was getting irritating. “Do you mind?” I asked him, a little more sharply than I intended. “It's hard to have a conversation with you between us.” He looked at me, startled and perhaps a little hurt. “Please,” I added.

He hesitated a moment before nodding and reining back to bring up the rear, silently shadowing us.

“Where did you get the pony?” Bran asked. His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Don't try and distract me,” I barked. “I've told you I'm not going back. Not until Aaric does, anyway, so you can turn around and leave now.”

Bran shrugged. “I also figured I wouldn't be able to change your mind. Your choice, but I'm coming.”

“No.” Aaric and I spoke at the same time.

The chieftain’s son's eyes hardened and I stifled a sigh. I knew that look. I also knew I'd have an easier time lifting a mountain than getting the man to change his mind.

Bran spoke. “You caused quite the uproar when your father discovered you missing. He, along with several other men, were going to come to bring you back and kill the Oppressor. I was able to convince your father and the chief that it'd be better if I came instead to make sure you were brought home safe—” he glanced at Aaric,  “—and that the Oppressor kept his word.”

“He has a name, Bran,” I said. I felt chilled, thinking of the disaster I had almost brought upon Aaric.

“At any rate, you see that you don't really have a choice in the matter.” Bran scanned the road and rolling hillsides. He was often set as sentry in the camp; the action had become habit. “Either I come with you or he’s hunted down.”

I threw my hands up. “Whatever. Just don't get in our way.” I reined my horse back to be with Aaric, sending a clear signal to Bran that I was done talking to him.

Aaric nudged his horse closer to me and spoke, his voice lowered so Bran couldn't overhear us. “I don't think Bran coming with us is a good idea.” He peered worriedly at the tall figure riding in front of us. “He might try to sabotage our mission.”

I sighed, upset with the situation. I liked Bran, I really did, but I suspected that his prejudice and stubbornness might get in the way. “Let it go for now,” I said, just as quietly. “I know Bran, and insisting he leave will only make him dig his heels in more. He's as stubborn as they come.” Here I glanced sideways at Aaric, smiling. “That could be said for all men, probably.”

Aaric's eyes narrowed and he jutted his jaw out in the manner I knew so well. I laughed.

“And who knows?” I went on. “He's a good fighter and has a way with magic that few possess. He might come in handy.”

Aaric nodded grudgingly. “I suppose he might, at that.” He peered at the hills ahead. “I've never been to the south, myself. I don't know what it's like, aside from what I've read.”

That hardly surprised me. I was willing to wager that most of Aaric's life had been spent with his nose in a book. “I've been down there a few times,” I said. “Our clan travels down there every few years, though it's been a long time. I was maybe, twelve the last time I went.”

“That is a long time,” Aaric said seriously, but his eyes twinkled and he laughed when I tried to smack him.

We talked awhile, ignoring Bran. I could tell it bothered him as he ignored me as well. Bran never ignored me unless he was upset. I knew I should probably feel bad but I was still irritated by his meddling.

We traveled this way until an hour or so before dusk. Bran found a hollow in one of the hills and declared we would sleep there for the night. Aaric and I exchanged looks, but didn't disagree. It seemed as good a spot as any. Bran had the foresight to pack more food than I had, and with it I was able to make a thin stew to go with our bread.

We ate in silence, wrapped in our own, private thoughts. The evening passed quietly. Rolling into my blankets that night, I thought about Aaric's quest with worry. Sky jewels were so rare they were often said to be legend. That Oisin claimed to have seen one surprised me, unless he had been lying to get Aaric away. No, he would have told Bran. I frowned, snuggling deeper under the blankets. I'd find a way to help Aaric, I told myself. One way or another.