Maylin's Gate (Book 3) (21 page)

She leaned forward until her knees pressed into Catalin’s. “Did he take something of your fathers?”

Catalin nodded. “He took a paperweight father kept on his desk. I asked him about it. He said he wanted something of father’s. He said the paperweight brought back good memories. My father would put us on his lap and tell us stories at his desk.” Catalin shrugged. “Brees would stare at the paperweight while lost in the worlds my father created.”

He fled Meranthia for a paperweight? That didn’t make any sense.

“He seemed desperate to reach Zen,” Catalin said. “I couldn’t convince him or the young lady traveling with him to stay.”

Catalin meant Keely. Keely, of all people, wouldn’t leave without a good reason.

“If Brees had stayed one more day he would’ve seen Aren. They could have spoken….” Fresh tears welled in Catalin’s eyes. The little sister who had watched the Broderick family collapse stared at Aren lying on the bed.

“Did Aren bring any of his belongings to Mara?”

Catalin nodded. “What few possessions he had.”

“Can I see them? Maybe he had something that might answer my questions.”

Catalin stood and crossed the room before returning a moment later with a burlap satchel. “Here, I haven’t looked through any of it yet.”

“I won’t take anything without your permission,” she said.

“I can’t imagine he kept anything sentimental. He’d drifted so far from the family.”

She placed the satchel between her feet and flipped open the cover.

A pair of clean-folded robes sat on top. Underneath the robes, a bone handle protruded from a burlap sheath. A second smaller pouch sat at the bottom.

She reached inside and looped her fingers through the drawstring. As she lifted the pouch from the satchel, the drawstrings tightened under its weight.

A sorcerer of Aren’s stature would carry a great deal of jewels. She pulled open the drawstring and peered inside.

Rubies, diamonds, sapphires, and emeralds filled the pouch. A fortune by anyone’s standard. She glanced at Catalin. “There’s enough jewels in here to live like a king for a lifetime.”

Catalin’s lips tightened into a thin line. “I don’t think Aren meant them for me.”

“They’re yours now.” She placed the pouch on Catalin’s lap and a metallic clink came from within.

She stared at the pouch. “That’s odd. Do obsith use coins?”

Catalin’s eyes narrowed. “Coins?”

She held out her hand. “Do you mind if I take a look inside?”

Catalin handed her the pouch and leaned forward.

She reached inside and slid her fingers through the jewels.

Something soft brushed her hand.

Cloth. And not the rough burlap kind. She grabbed the cloth and pulled it from the pouch.

A black folded armband made of felt rested in her palm.

Catalin’s eyes widened. “What is that?”

“It’s a felt armband,” she said. “Felt comes from wool. Wool comes from sheep. Do you have any sheep herders anywhere in Obsith?”

Catalin blinked staring at her with jaw open. “What?”

She smiled. “I think you answered my question.” She unfolded the armband and froze.

Three red symbols adorned the armband. Symbols from the same alphabet on her silver key. The same symbols etched into the ruins in Meranthia.

Goose bumps raced along her arms and legs. The answer to Brees’s unusual behavior washed over her like a desert sandstorm. Brees recognized the symbols. Maybe the shaman could read them.

With a trembling hand she held the armband high for Catalin to see. “Do you recognize any of these symbols?”

Catalin studied the symbols for several long seconds. The woman’s face gave away nothing. “I’ve never seen them before. I’m sorry. Should I?”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. I thought maybe….”

Her gaze drifted back to the jewel pouch. The metallic sound couldn’t have come from the armband. She reached into the pouch again sifting through the treasure trove of jewels. Her fingers touched something metallic and she pulled it free.

A gold key, twin to the silver key, gleamed between her fingertips. Symbols, like those on the silver key and armband, rode the gold key’s barrel.

“Catalin, have you ever seen this key?” Her words came out a breathless rush.

“I’ve never seen it. I —”

“Think,” she said. “Many lives could depend on it.”

Catalin stared at the key for a long moment. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember ever seeing it.”

“Did Brees know about these?” She held up the key and armband.

“If he did, he never said anything to me. I’m sure Aren wouldn’t have told him.”

Her thoughts switched back to the paperweight and her stomach swam. Why hadn’t Brees asked for her help? “Catalin, can I take these with me?”

She nodded. “I’m sure whatever use Aren had for them couldn’t have been for good.”

“Thank you. Catalin, can….” Her gaze drifted to Aren clinging to the edge of life. She needed a guide to Zen. She had to find Brees. But, she couldn’t ask Catalin to leave Aren.

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me how to reach Zen? I need to find your brother.”

“Have you seen the large star that hangs near the horizon at dusk?”

“Yes.”

“Follow the star. But, it’s not safe to travel during the day.” Catalin glanced at Aren and back again. “Sorcerers and shaman scout the desert. If they spot you, they won’t rest until you’re captured.”

She nodded. “We’ll be careful.”

“If you hurry you might still find him.” A sad smile appeared on Catalin’s face. “Tell him I love him.”

“I will.” She squeezed Catalin’s hands. “Thank you. I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

Catalin offered a weak smile and nodded. “Thank you Danielle. Thank you for saving me and my brother.”

Her gaze drifted downward. If not for her, every person in Mara might still live, but she couldn’t confess that sin.

“When I’m done in Zen, I’ll come for you,” she said. “You’ll come back to Meranthia with me and Brees. The desert’s not safe. Not anymore.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

Unlikely Savior

An ear-splitting boom shattered the silence.

Tara jerked upward still covered by blankets. Beside her, Jo’s arm moved in a blur cramming items into a lather pack.

Woolen blankets, a half-eaten loaf of bread, an extra lamp, and a worn book disappeared inside.

Jo, eyes wide with panic, glanced at her. “What are you waiting on?”

A second boom rattled the crate’s walls. The floor shook and the groan of shifting cargo reverberated.

She clawed at the blankets and tried to shake loose the shroud of sleep clouding her thoughts. “What’s happening?”

Jo buckled and secured a leather backpack. “We’re under attack. We have to leave now. Move.”

Three uneventful days at sea had lulled her into a false sense of security. She scrambled sideways and peered around the crate. “What should I take?”

A dagger appeared in Jo’s hand. “Nothing. I’ve taken care of it.” The girl spun and kicked the crate wall.

Brittle wood splintered and frigid air invaded their cozy space.

“On second thought, take the lamp,” Jo said.

She pushed the jumble of her auburn hair beneath a leather cap and raised the hood of her cloak.

Jo slipped through the opening and stood peering right then left. “Hurry.”

With her good arm, she scooped up the lamp and handed it to Jo before crawling through the open door. “Where are we?”

Another boom and the ship lurched. Cargo shifted and the ship creaked. The sharp hiss of spraying water came from the mahogany planks lining the hull.

“The ship’s sinking,” Jo said. “This way.” The girl stumbled forward and bounced from a stack of shifting crates.

Darkness consumed the cargo hold. Jo plunged ahead without hesitation.

She followed never taking her eyes from the lamp’s bouncing light.

The sound of scraping wood came from behind her. A crate slipped from the stack beside her and knocked her sideways.

She lunged forward bracing herself with her fractured arm. Pain flared and the crate shattered a foot behind her.

The thumping of Jo’s boots halted.

The lamp light reversed directions and moved toward her.

“Can you walk?” Jo said.

“I think so.”

Jo grabbed her collar and yanked.

She willed away the pain throbbing in her arm. Why did Jo care whether she lived or died? The girl owed her nothing.

Jo took her hand and guided her through a maze of shifting crates.

Her boots splashed through water flooding the cargo hold, and she clung to Jo’s hand.

Boots pounded and the trooper’s shouts came through the ceiling.

The ship groaned and heaved sideways. Hundreds of packed crates slid with the ship and slammed against the starboard hull.

Jo grabbed the ladder leading to the upper decks.

Her stomach sank and she reached for the seed of magic in her core. Thin wisps of black mist twisted outward. The girl’s gray soul thread, brighter than most, dangled before her. Tempting her. “No.” The word rolled from her throat rough and breathy. She wouldn’t toss away her hard earned humanity on a whim. Jo deserved to live.

She let the mist go and squeezed Jo’s hand while the ship rolled port side as if trying to correct itself.

“That’s it,” Jo said and pulled her toward the ladder.

Sea water sloshed over her boots while nearby crates toppled and crashed.

Jo knelt and snagged an object floating through the ankle-high water. “Here.”

She stared at the offered object, a menacing baerinese hunting knife, as she would a live snake. Her gaze shifted to meet Jo’s. “I don’t know how to use that.”

“Take it.” Jo thrust the blade’s hilt toward her. “It’s for your protection.”

She took the knife and let it dangle between her fingertips like soiled undergarments.

“Even if you don’t use it, that knife’s worth two gold crowns,” Jo said. “We can eat for months on two gold crowns.”

We? Like all the others, Jo would leave either through death or disappointment. “What should I do with it?”

“Slip it in your boot,” Jo said. “I’ll teach you how to use it later.”

She wedged the blade inside her boot hoping the edge wouldn’t slice open her ankle.

Jo took the ladder two rungs at a time and shoved open the trapped door leading to the deck above. The girl scrambled through the opening and disappeared onto the deck above.

She grabbed the ladder and climbed.

Jo’s head appeared over the opening. “It’s clear. Hurry.”

She charged up the ladder and took Jo’s offered hand before sliding onto the deck.

Thin wisps of smoke hung in the air.

Fire. Her flesh crawled.

Jo sprinted along the passage toward the stairway leading to the upper decks.

She followed willing her legs forward. Around her, smoke thickened and the sound of fighting came from the deck above.

The stairs appeared ahead and smoke curled up the passageway.

Jo paused before the stairs and gazed up.

Dead troopers clogged the foot of the stairway. Their flesh had burned away exposing charred scales.

Jo unsheathed a steel dagger and hopped over the dead troopers.

She stepped over the corpses and followed. How should she feel about the dead troopers? Anger? Remorse? She felt neither. Like the crates in the cargo hold, they simply blocked her path.

With blade out, Jo hurried up the stairway.

She followed Jo past dead troopers littering the stairway. Fresh air mingled with the scent of smoke.

Troopers shouted, draco screeched, and the hiss of burning wood grew louder. A moment later, the deck burst into view.

Jo froze on the landing as if unwilling to enter the fray.

She stopped beside Jo and gaped at the horror unfolding on the ship’s deck.

The wheelhouse stood in flames while the ship’s deck pitched at an unnatural angle. The bow stood a dozen feet above the sea while part of the stern disappeared beneath the waterline. Burning wood hissed sending steam skyward.

No fewer than a dozen shielded guardians crisscrossed the ship’s deck in the sky above. Twice as many draco archers fought Lora’s children for air supremacy.

“Look at them.” An edge of excitement touched Jo’s voice and the girl’s jaw hung open.

She moved a step ahead daring to edge away from the stairwell’s shadows.

Air, warmer than any since landing in Meranthia, touched her face. With the fresh air, the unmistakable scent of Meranthian spring hit her nostrils.