His Ancient Heart (5 page)

The Cursed were dangerous.

At least he had believed it until he met Eryn. She was dangerous, sure enough. Dangerous to those who crossed her, to those who wished to do harm to innocents. Dangerous in her beauty, too. Her disarming wit and charm and natural looks, her big smile and strong eyes, her passion and energy. He succumbed to it, as any right-minded man would. What was there not to love?

He smiled at that. A sad smile. She was sick. Very sick. If Silas didn't return with the cure in time...
 

He had left the dagger on the small table inside. Just looking at it made him feel unwell. It whispered to him of a hopeless future, where all Eryn had endured would come to nothing. Where
his
Empire would always be the only empire.

Had it been so easy for him to change sides? Was love such a powerful thing that he had forsworn his pledges and his promises to it? That he had forged new promises? Was he being young and foolish?
 

He might have thought he was, if not for what he had seen in the place called the Dark, in the depths of the reactor. Silas and his brothers had won the war against the Shifters. They had defeated the invading armies and saved all of them from extinction. The scientist, Jeremiah, had used their victory to rise to power, to seize control and slaughter all of those who knew the truth. To institute
his
world order, one that saw the past buried. How much ircidium had he mined on the backs of the commoners he enslaved? How many Cursed had been needlessly killed, instead of cured?
 

It seemed to Wilem that
he
was afraid to allow the magic to gain purchase in this world.
 

Why?

He sat and stared at the sky, looking in the direction of Amman for answers.

He heard the snap of a branch and the scuffling of boots.

Wilem felt his heart start racing, and he jumped to his feet. He fought to calm himself, to use what he had been taught and stay in control. He didn't dare use his lessons to draw on his magic, not when he couldn't know if there were Mediators nearby who would sense the power.

He stood still and listened. Another snap, and then a voice.

"Something big came this way. Look at how the grass is sunken here."

They were close. Too close.
 

"Could've been anything made that track," a second voice said. "Wild boars can get awful big and fat."

Wilem turned back to the cave and pushed aside the roots, slipping into the small space and getting coated in a layer of dirt for his effort.

"Did you find something?" a third voice asked. It sounded familiar to him, but he couldn't place it.

Wilem glanced over at Eryn, finding her still motionless on the makeshift bed. He stared at her, worried until he saw the slight rise and fall of her chest. He took three steps in and grabbed the dagger from the table, and then returned to the hole. He had never been much of a warrior, but if anyone tried to come in, he would make sure they didn't succeed.

"Looks like it came through here," the first person said. Wilem could tell that his voice was getting louder as he said it. He was headed right for them.

He held his breath, silent and still, his hand tight and sweaty on the hilt of the blade. His heart was racing, and his body was cold. Silas had barely been gone for a day and already they were going to be discovered?

He could hear their feet on the earth outside, vibrating through the ground and into the hole. Three pairs of feet. They stomped into the area and came to a stop.

"It stopped here for a while, and then headed off that way," the second voice said.

"How long did it stop for?" the third voice asked.

They were right outside the entrance. Wilem felt himself begin to shiver as he realized he knew the speaker. Master Canlin, one of his teachers from Edgewater. What was he doing here? He had thought him retired from the field.

"Aren't any way to tell, sir," the first voice said. "Grass is all matted down here, so maybe it comes an' goes, or maybe other things like to rest here. Not surprising, being so close to the river and all."

A soft moan sounded behind him.
 

Wilem spun around, seeing that Eryn's eyes were open, and she was trying to push herself upright.

"Eryn, no," Wilem whispered, placing the dagger quietly on the table and rushing over to her side. "Shhhh. It's okay, I'm here."

"Wizard," Eryn hissed. Her eyes found him. Yellow eyes pooled with darkness. There was no recognition in them.

"It's me, Wilem. Eryn, relax."
 

Her forehead creased. "Wilem?"

"Yes. Eryn, please, lie down."

"What's happening?"

"There are people outside. Shhh. We must be quiet."

He watched her shiver. She whined and clenched her hands into fists.
 

"Wizard," she said again. "Hungry. It hurts."

He noticed it now. A sense of power. Mediator Canlin was using his magic for something. To find them?

"It hurts," Eryn repeated, a little louder. "Hungry."

"I know. I'm sorry. Please my love, lie down." He put his hand to her forehead and tried to ease her back down.
 

"Scared," she said, red tears pooling in her eyes. "Help me."

Wilem felt his heart breaking, his chest pounding. "I'm trying. Please, lie down and be quiet, or we're going to be caught."

He pushed against her, trying to lay her down. She had been out this entire time, and only the nearness of the Mediator had woken her. He glanced over at the dagger. Had she been woken, or had something else? Was it already too late?

"Hurtsssss," she moaned.
 

"I'm sorry."

Without warning, her hand came up, striking him in the cheek. Sharp nails dug into his flesh, ripping it away at the same time he flopped backwards onto the floor.
 

"Hungry."

Wilem lay on his stomach. He could feel her moving, shifting, trying to get up.
 

"Did you hear something?" The first voice said.

"Just a squirrel or some such." the second replied.

"Hungry," Eryn repeated above him.
 

He could feel the blood running from the cuts she had made in his cheek. He had to get up.

Wilem pushed himself to his feet and leaned forward, reaching for the dagger. Eryn's hand grabbed him from behind, a scaly gray hand that found its way around his neck. It squeezed, stealing his ability to breathe, even as he struggled to turn around.

"Eryn, please," he said, his voice strained. "I love you."

The hand loosened. "Wilem?" she asked again.

He took in a huge gulp of air. "Yes. I love you. Please listen to me."

"Hurtsssss."

He looked at the dagger in his hand. If it weren't too late, it would be soon. Silas probably hadn't even reached Varrow City yet.
 

They were out of time.

"I'm sorry," Wilem said again. Eryn's hand was still on his neck, but it was limp, unsure. He took a deep breath and steeled himself. He knew what he had to do. What was expected. Silas had warned him.

"Hungryyyyyyyyyyyy," Eryn cried, the saddest, most painful cry he had every heard.
 

He would be doing right by her, to put her to death.

He twisted in her grip, using his free hand to grab her arm, bringing the knife around towards her chest.
 

His eyes landed on hers. He couldn't help but be frightened by their color, their shape. He couldn't help but give pause at their expression.
 

She was as scared as he was.

He stopped the blade only inches from her chest, dropping it to the ground and taking Eryn in his arms. He put his hand over her mouth and drove her back, shoving her down onto the mat, laying on top of her and keeping her pinned. Red tears ran from her eyes, down her cheeks to the ground below. Clear tears ran from his, dripping and landing on her forehead.
 

"Let's keep looking," the Mediator said. His power vanished from Wilem's senses.
 

Eryn fell limp beneath him.

He lay there while the beat of his heart slowly returned to a normal rhythm, keeping his face close to Eryn's so he could feel the warmth of her breath on his ear. He waited quite a while to be sure they wouldn't return, and then he shifted to kneel over her. He stroked her forehead while he cried.

Did I just save your life, or forfeit my own?

CHAPTER TEN

Silas

"Patmos."

Silas rapped on the rear door of the inn. He stood with his body pressed against it, his eyes sweeping back and forth in case he needed to hide again. Getting from Davin's mansion near the edge of the city to Waverly's had taken much too long. Every street was heavy with soldiers, the Heart even more so, and he had been forced to skirt side to side, shadow to shadow to avoid being stopped and questioned.
 

The door opened a crack.

"Who's there?" A small voice asked.

"Patina," Silas said. He knelt down to get at eye level with the girl. "It's me. Is your father here?"

He could see her eyes looking out at him, large and frightened.
 

"Go away," she said. "Please."

She started to close the door.

"Patina, wait." Silas stuck his foot in before it could close. "Where is your father?"

"Patina, who's there?"
 

The proprietor's wife pulled the door open. She stood over Silas in a blue dress and a dirty apron, a butcher's knife in hand.

"Silas?"

He straightened up. "Is Patmos here?"

Her face turned dour, her eyes dropping to her feet. "He's gone. Taken. The Overlord connected him to Davin, and when they learned Davin was helping you... You freed all the poor souls at the ore mine. They've been rounding up new ones to refill it. Patmos is one of them."

Murderer.

Silas forced the thoughts away. "Urla, I'm so very sorry."

She looked up at him, her eyes fierce and resolute. "No. None of that. Every day we kept you here we were taking a risk. He isn't dead." She smiled. "And neither are you." She looked behind her, taking Patina's hand in hers. "The common room is crawling with soldiers and spies. They're expecting you might come back here. You need to go, and fast. Tell me what you came here for."

"A cloak, or a table cloth. I need to disguise someone who is rather large."

"That's all?"

Silas nodded. He would have asked for more, before. They had already done enough. "Tell me, are the mines operational again already? It wouldn't seem they could restore them so soon."

"No, not yet. Everyone who's been arrested is being kept in a small fortified garrison outside the walls." She laughed. "They're defending it like they've got a larder of coin at the center."

"Expecting me to try to free them again? Or daring me to?"

Urla stifled another laugh. "A bit of both I would expect. Let's not dally with words. Wait out by the stable and I'll find something suitable for you."

She closed the door before he could say anything else, so he retreated to the stables, hiding himself in with one of the horses. He was crouched there only a few minutes when a soldier made his way inside on foot, scanning the nooks and crannies as he walked through.
 

Silas watched him from he shadows, crouched low to stay behind the horse, his feet spread to either side of a pile of manure. The stable was dimly lit by lanterns hanging on pegs along the center, and the light allowed him to get a good look at the soldier. Young, with a strong build, olive skin, and reddish-brown hair. He paused at the front of Silas' hiding spot, pulling a thin round of paper from his pocket and sticking the end into the lantern. Sacha. The smokeable plant was rare this far north. It would have cost the man good coin to get it.

 
It was also illegal. Even more so among
his
soldiers.

Silas watched while the soldier took a couple of puffs and leaned back against the door. He didn't know Silas was there, and he had left himself completely exposed. All it would take for Silas to kill the man would be to sneak to the front of the stable and choke him.

He moved forward, silent and steady, shifting around the horse. The steed didn't seem to care about either of them, content to keep its head down, as though it didn't want to bear witness.

Silas positioned himself right behind the soldier. He took a breath in, tasting the smoke of the Sacha on his lips and tongue, sweet and heavy.
 

"
He
would have you put to the mines, or hung straight up for even possessing a roll of sacha," Silas whispered into the soldier's ear.

The man didn't react with surprise. Instead, he reached back and made a grab for Silas, trying to grapple with him over the half-door that separated them. Silas caught his arm and shifted, pinning it and keeping the soldier's back to him, his arm pressed tight against it. One quick push, and it would break.

"Shhhh," Silas said.

"It's you, isn't it. Silas Morningstar," the soldier replied. He wasn't frightened. He wasn't nervous. He started laughing.

"What amuses you?" Silas asked.

"The whole of the Empire is looking for you, and you've been hiding out in a pile of horse dung the entire time."

"Not the entire time, my boy. I only just arrived."

The soldier still had one hand free. The roll of sacha rested between two of his fingers. He held it up. "Smoke?"

"What is your name?" Silas asked.

"Fehri, my Lord Morningstar. Fehri Fehnrami, Captain of the Varrow City Guard, Third Company."

Silas grinned behind him. "It hasn't been very long since I last heard that name. You saved Eryn from a beating barely a week ago."

He could sense the man's surprise.
 

"Please, my Lord," Fehri said, bringing the sacha to his lips so he could use the free hand to tap on Silas'. It hung from the corner of his mouth while he spoke. "You can release me. I may be a soldier in
his
army, but as you can see I have little regard for
his
commands. It is the Lord Amman that I follow."