Lichgates: Book One of the Grimoire Saga (an Epic Fantasy Adventure) (45 page)

“But,”—he added—“we can go only if you promise that as soon as we find the village, we come right back here and do absolutely nothing for a week.”

“Lazy thing.”

“Promise.”

“Fine. But as soon as we find the amulet, we’re heading straight for the village. No stops.”

“Fine,” he said, mocking her tone.

They each took a half hour to gather food and water for the trip before they met back at the lakeshore. Kara adjusted her now-full satchel and stretched out on the grass while Braeden sat on a half-submerged boulder and stared out into the water, apparently lost in thought as he tore handfuls of grass to bits.

She whistled in the hope that it would catch Rowthe’s attention—they needed him, since their route involved caved-in tunnels—and reclined on the grassy beach. She waited for Braeden to say something or to start another story, but he didn’t move from his place on the boulder. She instead turned over onto her stomach and played with her tiny egg in the silence.

The little good luck charm warmed in her palms while her mind wandered. Her thoughts raced back over her conversation with Twin, back through the dining hall and to Gavin’s lemon cookies. There was something she’d meant to ask the Grimoire, but she had entirely forgotten what it was.

She glanced over to Braeden. She’d meant to ask something that he hadn’t wanted to explain. Ah. Right.

Marriage in Ourea was known as “bonding.” She shook her head at the strange term and summoned the Grimoire, asking for more details with a soft whisper.

The pages flicked by, one after another, until they landed on a two-page spread of a pair of yakona. The male had no shirt, and his bare skin betrayed the tattoo that began at his shoulder and ended at his elbow. It reminded her of the sparring ring in Kirelm and how all of the soldiers had a similar, twisting line that ran along their arms.

The female yakona had a cloth wrapped around her chest, which hid everything except for her broad shoulders and arms. She also had a thin, spiraling tattoo along her right arm that ended on her neck. Kara leaned in to read the text besides the drawing.

Yakona bond for life. It’s an intricate, private ceremony that merges the lifelines of any two yakona such that they are eternally tied together.

So those weren’t tattoos at all. They were lifelines. She shot a quick glance over toward Braeden before she continued reading.

Yakona bond with each other by fusing their lifelines. The yakona’s line crawls onto the arm of his or her partner, creating a new design that becomes an everlasting connection between them. When one is in danger or hurt, the other will always know where to find their lover.

Only when a yakona dies does the lifeline disappear to allow the other yakona to find another mate. Usually, however, they never choose another, hoping instead that their love is waiting for them on the other side of this life.

As she read, the drawings demonstrated the ceremony. They held each other, the male lifting the female’s chin with his fingers, and each tattoo spiraled down their respective arms. Soon, an entirely new design snaked over each yakona’s right arm from their wrists to their shoulders.

Kara glanced again toward Braeden, whose elbow-length shirt covered his tattoo—well, okay, lifeline—completely. It was easy to remember, though: it had barely reached his bicep. That had to be the easiest way to tell if a man was taken or not. She laughed quietly, imagining a yakona night club. All a girl had to do was go up to a guy and ask him to roll up his sleeve. Or, better yet, take off his shirt.

A few short bursts of vibration buzzed on the grass around her. The little egg glowed brighter than ever and rocked back and forth, so she held it up to the sun. The faint outline of a tiny, bushy tail showed through the shell. It vibrated again in her hand, and she returned it to the grass.

Four tiny legs broke through the shell, though the rest of the body remained inside. It staggered a few inches and then fell, unable to see where it was going, so she set her hands on each side of it to keep it from running off. The four feet swung wildly, clawing at the shell with frail nails. The baby creature worked for a few minutes before another chunk of the shell came off, and another, and another, until the ground was littered with faceted shell fragments and a very wet, very small, very furry little creature.

It stared up at her with eyes almost as large as its head and a body no bigger than her palm. It had two large ears, a white splotch of fur on its forehead, and white stripes running down its otherwise red body. Its tail was longer than its torso, the hair matted with goo, and the thing had tiny clawed feet. It shook itself, trying to get the gook off, so Kara reached around to the lake for some water. She cleaned the bushy little thing and dried it with her sleeve to the buzzing hum of what she guessed was its purring. It nuzzled up to her hand.

“Hey, it hatched!” Braeden scooted in close and pressed his warm arm against hers. A jolt of excitement ran through her, but he was focused on the little thing and thankfully didn’t notice her catch her breath. The furry, nameless creature wobbled toward him and sniffed him with a wary air.

“What are you going to call him, Kara?”

“It’s a him?”

“I don’t know. I was guessing.”

“I was thinking I’d call him Flick. Do you like it?

“I do.” He grinned. The tiny creature seemed to have quieted whatever silent worry plagued him.

“All right, little guy,” she said to her new pet. “What do you eat?”

Flick chirped and wobbled toward her when she pulled out some bread from her bag. He cozied up to her hand and nibbled a corner of the loaf with his back teeth, tickling her fingertips with his rough tongue as he lapped the salt from her hands in the process.

Soft footsteps on the grass made her glance up. Rowthe stood over them, the rocky mountain backdrop a sharp contrast that made him easier to see. He lowered his head and nibbled Kara’s hair in welcome.

She cupped her hands around Flick and picked him up, and the little thing let out a long chirp and giggled as she did so. Braeden pulled himself onto the flaer and then helped her in front of him as she recalled the image of the small chamber that hid the Stele’s amulet. Rowthe’s ears perked back, and the flaer darted off into the mountain wall.

They suffered a few hours of the jolting kick of walking through cave walls, but Kara used the time as a chance to become acquainted with her new pet. As she tickled his tummy, Flick burped and chuckled and made all sorts of other noises she’d never heard before. She would dangle her fingers in front of him as he lay on his back and laugh each time he reached out to gnaw on her thumb. His small, dull teeth caressed the grooves in her skin, and his mouth wasn’t even big enough to get half way around her fingertip.

They came to a cave with thick, black walls, where darkness permeated everything. Any light that did find a way in through small holes in the ceiling was swallowed by the hazy gloom. Goosebumps chased their way across her arms.

“I think we’re getting close,” she whispered.

Braeden grunted.

Rowthe walked slower and passed through another wall into a small, dark hallway carved into the mountain. Thin streams of light broke through the crumbling roof and illuminated part of a stone door opposite them, which had somehow survived the countless years of cave-ins and ruin. Both sides of the hallway were blocked off by black rocks. The air was thin. White dots spotted the edges of Kara’s vision from the lack of oxygen. They would have to make this quick.

Rowthe sniffed the hallway and stomped his foot, coming to a sudden, violent stop. The momentum threw Braeden against her back. She leaned, off-balance and about to fall, but he wrapped an arm around her to keep her on their skittish mount. Rowthe pinned his ears to his head and pranced, swinging his head around in search of something they couldn’t see. The goose bumps spread farther along Kara’s cold skin.

Braeden’s chest warmed her back as he held her, one arm covering both her shoulders. He didn’t let her go even when she regained her balance, and she realized with a happy pang that she didn’t want him to.

“We should leave,” he said in her ear.

“Look, you insisted on coming and we’ve made it this far. I can’t leave without the amulet, Braeden. I know it’s creepy, but don’t you think you’re getting upset over nothing? This is all in our heads. So far all we’ve done is find a door in an eerie hallway. Let’s just grab the thing, and then we’ll go,” she said.

He sighed, released her, and dismounted. The dark, brooding lines returned to his face as she slid off after him. Flick dug his feet into her sleeve and clung to the fabric, shaking. She pulled him back into her hand and huffed in annoyance at how Rowthe had gotten everyone worked up.

She grabbed the ancient stone door’s rusted brass knob. She twisted and pushed it open, but the hinges shrieked in a tarnished protest. The door resisted, at first, and caught on the floor, so she shoved it open with her shoulder. A groan shook the stone, and it parted just enough to let her through into a pitch black chamber.

Whispered echoes of her own footsteps chorused around her. She lifted Flick to her shoulder and pulled a small amount of energy into her palm to start a thin fire. The pale flame offered just enough light to see by without burning much of what little air was available.

Though she could see the walls, she couldn’t see the ceiling and very quickly came to the other end. The pedestal the map had shown her was the chamber’s only décor, but it was empty. Crude writing covered the wall above it.

The runic script had been carved in deep and hasty writing with angry, illegible letters. At each crevice, flecks of the cave wall had been chipped away in the author’s haste. The channels that comprised the mysterious lines resonated with the only language that had escaped her since she’d come to Ourea. Flick squeaked and dug his claws into her shirt as she scanned the wall.

Someone behind her forced open the door, and a gray flame cast her shadow over the letters. She turned back to see half of Braeden’s face illuminated by the small fire in his hand. He glared around the room, unsmiling.

“We should go, Kara.”

“I can’t read this at all. Is this a yakona language?” she asked, ignoring him. The writing might be a clue to where the amulet had gone, and she needed to understand what it said.

“Yes. You can’t read this because the Vagabond never made it to the Stele to learn its language.” He read the wall with an expression of disdain.

“Oh.” She stepped back. “What does it say?”

“No.” He grabbed her arm and turned to the door, dragging her behind him. Flick twitched his ear across her chin.

“Braeden, what—?”

“We shouldn’t be here. There isn’t anything but evil in these caves.”

“That’s a little harsh.” A new voice ricocheted from the shadows near the door.

Rowthe growled from the hallway and whimpered. The door slammed shut with a loud thud that shook the walls and extinguished Braeden’s fire. He raced for the door, only to back up with slow steps as their visitor advanced.

A cloaked figure stepped out of the darkness and into the thin light of her violet-colored fire, pulling back his hood to reveal ash-gray skin that steamed with thick trails of smoke. Carden walked into sight, Kara’s fire flickering and casting deep shadows across his face. He sneered, and the gray skin around his eyes creased. Flick squeaked and ran down Kara’s side, into her satchel.