Lives of Kings (27 page)

That was until we started bouncing around the unpaved roads, and the smell of meat in the sandwiches cooking in the sun made me nauseous.

Rosario had a huge van that looked to be from the mid-seventies. While roomy, it was bereft of any safety measures like seatbelts, and the only air conditioning was the open windows.

It felt like we were going on safari. Thirty minutes outside of the city all there was around us was desert as we headed inland. Then the roads turned to dirt and gravel as they wound around what could have been mountains. Several times I had to grip the handles and do my best to not look out the window since the drop from the cliff and the incline of the car stopped making any physical sense to me.

It also didn't help that I sat at the very back of the car with Michael, whose weight shifted with the car's angle, and as he slid across the faux-leather seats I worried he would tip us over. The back of the car, inexplicably, smelled like gasoline. Seth and Kian took up the middle row, while Garrison sat at the front with Rosario, pretending he could speak Spanish.

“This is crazy!” Michael yelled to me.

I nodded, doing my best to keep myself steady and not feel even sicker than I was. Between the sound of the wheels on gravel, the engine, and the wind coming through the windows, I could barely hear myself.

“Do you think we're going to stop for a break?” I yelled back to Michael.

“What?”

“Break!”

“Oh,” he replied, “no thanks.”

I sighed and pushed myself into the corner to keep from moving as much as possible. My stomach reminded me what I had for breakfast and why filling up on eggs had probably not been a good idea.

Another few hours passed. I would have loved to look out the window but the sun heated my skin and made my nausea worse.

“Hey!” Michael tapped my shoulder. I turned. “You don't look so good.”

I nodded. Opening my mouth was a risk at this point, so I clenched my jaw shut.

“Carsick?” Michael yelled.

I nodded again.

“Yeah, riding in the back of these things can be a challenge,” he said. “They use them a lot in the outback. Easier to get where there are no roads.”

I smiled politely, not really wanting to talk.

“So how long have you and this guy been together?” he asked, pointing a thumb toward Kian. “Didn't he tell me he kidnapped you or something?”

It was a good thing I had no answer, because at that moment I just couldn't sit back anymore.

“Stop the car!” I yelled.

I had to scream loudly for them to hear me all the way at the front.

Rosario hit the brakes. I jumped across Kian's legs to pull the door open and run only a few steps before throwing up all over some rocks. At least I missed my shoes.

I heard footsteps behind me as my friends jumped out of the van. A hand moved my hair away from my face and rubbed my back. I could tell from the shoes that it was Kian.

“Gwen?” Garrison called. “Is this one of those things where you want our help, or would you rather … do it alone?”

I wiped my face on the bottom of my shirt. “Alone.”

“Got it.”

“Miss?” It was our driver this time. I couldn't imagine Rosario would mind stopping if the alternative was my breakfast all over his back seat.

“Yes?”

“We're almost there,” he told me. “Twenty more minutes.”

Wonderful. I almost spared myself the humiliation. I hadn't been keeping track of the time because it seemed like so long, but I guessed the sun had been very strong for a while. It must be mid-afternoon by now.

As far as the eye could see, mountains, valleys, and a lot of rocks covered the landscape. The fresh air on my face made me feel better. I took a few deep breaths but ultimately just wanted to get there already.

It must really be in the middle of nowhere. I could see what seemed like hours into the distance, yet I couldn't see any town within twenty minutes' drive.

“Okay,” I said to no one in particular. “Let's go.”

We climbed back into the van, everyone except for Michael. He stood out on the rocks, bouncing up and down on his heels like I had seen him do in Oregon.

“Michael?” Seth called.

When he turned he wore a puzzled look.

“What is it?” Seth asked as Michael did a few last bounces then jogged back to the car.

“The earth here is all messed up,” he said. “It's very weird. The rocks are such weird shapes and all arranged strangely.”

Rosario was watching him in the rear-view mirror. He turned before starting the motor. “Many earthquakes,” he said. “Many landslides. The villages here build on old villages, and those were built on old ones, too.”

How morbid.

“Why do people stay here?” Garrison asked. “If it's so dangerous?”

Rosario shrugged. “This is their land. Their ancestors have lived here, and now they do.”

It was a simple enough answer. We of all people should have been able to understand the importance of that. Maybe that was why no one commented on the counterintuitive nature of living in such a dangerous region.

Instead, the next twenty minutes were spent with me nearly shoving my head out of the window like a dog as I tried to convince myself that I didn't feel sick anymore.

The village was exactly as I had expected. Low, sprawling, largely a mix of semi-modern construction methods and archaic-looking huts with grass thatch as a roof. While the roads weren't paved, there were some cars. Though the ones that we saw looked overstuffed with people hanging on to the doors, the roof, and sitting outside of the windows. Livestock wandered up and down the road. Chickens were everywhere.

We had left our luggage in the hotel in an effort to fit in as tourists in this small town, but I couldn't see anything touristic. There were no foreigners in sight, and as we approached the town square, my anxiety grew.

The van rolled through the street, and people turned their heads to stare. Finally, we reached a main square, or something that looked like it. In a wide roundabout, flanked by a church, a market, and what looked like an official government building, Rosario stopped the van. I was only too happy too climb out and take a deep breath of fresh air. I didn't even mind the sticky dirt and dust.

“When should I come back?” Rosario asked.

The notion made my stomach turn. We all looked at each other.

“Give us a week?” Seth asked. The question was directed at us, not Rosario. Considering we had no idea what we were actually here to do, a week seemed okay. We nodded.

Rosario, however, looked hesitant. “Are you sure you want to spend a week here?” he asked. “There's not much to do.”

“We're sure,” Garrison replied. “Thanks. We'll meet you here at this time in a week.”

Rosario shrugged. “Okay,” he called as he pulled away.

When the van left, we were forced to face the village. My skin prickled with the feeling like I was being watched. And I wasn't the only one. As we walked into the market, hoping to ask for directions, my friends looked over their shoulders, too.

This late in the afternoon, the streets weren't really packed, yet with every person, from the old ladies sitting on folding chairs outside a shop to the kids who stopped playing in the streets, once they saw us made us feel very observed. The small town seemed crowded when everyone you passed stared at you.

Before we even made it into the market, a man came forward from a booth to intercept us. I assumed he was probably the only person in the area who spoke English since no one else tried to approach.

“Hello, friends!” he said. He smiled, but his eyes were curious, bordering on suspicious. “How can I help you?”

It was as if the entire village was a store, and this was the customer service.

Garrison tried at first in Spanish, and then gave up. The man listened to him patiently, not interrupting. Finally, Garrison sighed. “We're looking for somewhere to stay,” he said.

“Certainly, my friends,” the man replied with grand gestures. He pointed to the other end of the market with both arms. “Down the road, always straight, you will find the best hotel in town.”

Probably the only hotel, but that was okay.

“Do you need tour guide? Do you have plans here?”

The question implied asking if we were here to do something bad.

“We're on vacation,” Garrison said. “We're interested in your history. The museums.”

“Oh,” the man said. He looked as if he was about to have some bad news for us. “The museum is closed today, my friends. You can go on Monday.”

“Monday?” Garrison asked. “Why not tomorrow?”

“Because tomorrow is Sunday,” the man said, as if that was obvious.

Garrison sighed again. “Okay, thank you.”

Despite answering all the necessary questions, we still had to sidestep the man in order to get past him. Every eye in the market was on us, with sellers of everything from nuts to honey to hats looking at us like we were the main attractions in a roadshow. They must not get many visitors.

I was beginning to understand how the Godelan could have hidden their names here. Apart from the violent earthquakes that make the land vulnerable, nothing seemed to change. Ever.

We never would have known the stout building at the end of the strip was a hotel if someone wasn't outside ready to receive us. Though isolated, I assumed a lot of people had cellphones, and our friend from earlier had called ahead. An elderly woman showed us to a big room on the second floor. She didn't say a word the whole time, just led the way to an open room with six single beds lined up like in a hospital. She handed Kian one key, then left.

“What a warm welcome,” remarked Garrison.

“It's okay, we won't be staying long,” Seth told him. “I don't intend to wait two days to go see if what we're looking for is even here.”

“But how will we get in?” Michael asked innocently. We looked at him. “Oh. Right.”

At least our one room, which I was beginning to suspect had been used as a kind of hospital room at some point, had big, bright windows. It allowed us to spend some time surveying the market and neighbourhood without being ogled.

I was fidgeting. The feeling of something crawling up the back of my neck was driving me nuts. I took the bed farthest in the corner just to avoid the feeling of always being stared at. It didn't help.

“I don't like it here,” I said.

“What's not to like?” Garrison asked sarcastically.

“But it feels right, doesn't it?” Seth asked. He had a way of making confirmations sound like questions. “It's like Gwen said — they put the names somewhere we wouldn't dare touch. Did you see the hills on the way here? We move one rock and the whole place will cave in.”

Exactly. Any magic here would have to be lighter than a whisper or we'd risk killing everyone who still lived in this valley, or in the valleys around it. I had no idea how many people were even in danger, let alone how I could avoid causing some kind of disaster.

“But they don't know we're coming, so we can take the names and not have to do anything, can't we?” Seth said.

Again, the certainty in his tone overshadowed his words. I sat still as the three of them discussed how we would break into the museum. The general consensus was that it didn't seem like the kind of place to have high tech alarms.

I didn't even realize I was listening for something outside the room when I heard footsteps coming up the narrow stairs outside our door.

“Shh!” I said suddenly.

Everyone quieted. The footsteps got louder until the woman who had shown us our room knocked and came in without any further invitation. She left clean towels on a cabinet and was about to leave when Garrison stopped her.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Where can we find something to eat?”

“Market,” she said simply before closing the tall double doors.

Garrison walked to the window again, looking down at the market. As the sun was beginning to set, people were lighting torches.

“I see grills and I see meat,” he announced. “Tonight, we eat like kings.”

His sarcasm didn't bother me since I was used to it, but the words hung around in my ears as if a part of me knew they had another meaning. My last memory flashed before my eyes, and suddenly my heart felt more restrained than ever as I tried to take a deep breath while I gathered my thoughts.

I closed my eyes, kicking myself for getting too wrapped up in myself to notice what the past was trying to tell me. Again. I had been so focused on seeing Kian as a child in my dream that I hadn't taken note of anything else.

“Seth,” I said, dreading my words or his reaction to them. “What if you're not the only king we have?”

“What?”

Everyone turned to me.

“How do the names work? Is it only the king who can control the Godelan?”

Seth looked at me as if I were crazy. “Of course,” he said. “They swore their allegiance to the king. I am the High King. King over them, too.”

“And what about your queen?”

It took him a while to understand what I was hinting at. When I finally saw realization dawn on his face, he shook his head before any words came out.

“Moira wouldn't do that to us,” he said. “She is vain, but she is not a traitor.”

“You banished her,” I reminded him. “She's power-hungry. She always wanted the throne. What if she could make a deal with the Godelan — protect them from us in exchange for immunity.”

“She would not betray blood,” Seth said. “We're family. This conversation is over. Let's go eat.”

He grabbed his bag with a force that suggested he was angrier than his tone let on. Regardless, everyone followed him out in silence.

I did my best not to huff. As much as I still saw him as my equal, a teenager on this crazy mission to save the world, there was a part of me that responded to his authority. I was as much under control of the king now as I was two thousand years ago. It was hard not to stomp my foot.