Rise (7 page)

Rolling my eyes at his back, I hurried to catch up with him. “That’s not what I meant.” After walking in silence for several minutes, I hesitantly asked, “Can you tell me why my hands hurt?”

He stilled. “Do they hurt right now?” His voice was tight with concern.

“No,” I answered, almost running into him.

“When’s the last time they bothered you?”

“Right before the
brunbjorn
attacked.” I thought back to the incident. The pain had become intense during the encounter. However, I’d been so concerned with not being the animal’s next meal that there hadn’t been time to dwell on it.

The assassin continued walking, not saying another word.

“Are you ignoring me?” I kicked a small rock, sending it flying to a nearby tree.

Anders glanced over his shoulder, raising his eyebrows and pointedly looking from me to the tree before saying, “I just figured the answer was rather obvious and you’d be able to figure it out on your own.”

“I get that it has something to do with being a Kriger.” Bending, I plucked a rock small enough to fit in the palm of my hand.

Anders spun around and grabbed my arm. “If you throw that at me, I’ll gut you.”

I yanked away. “I just wanted something to hold on to.”

“Oh.” He turned and started walking again. “Well, don’t assault anymore trees either.” I rolled my eyes. “And don’t roll your eyes at me. It’s rude.”

“How did—”

“The pain you feel occurs when you’re in danger,” he said, cutting off my retort. “The power within you is seeking its weapon.”

Again, at the mere mention of my weapon, my body hummed. “How do you know so much about all of this?” I rolled the rock between my fingers, easing my nerves.

Anders sighed. “Can we please travel in silence? All of your questions will be answered when we arrive.”

“Why can’t you just tell me what’s going on?” I asked, squeezing the rock. It started to warm.

He halted and turned to face me. “Do you ever stop talking?” He pointed his finger at me. “You’re impossible.”

His dark eyes and the fury lines in his forehead should have frightened me. Yet, the rock somehow sapped the panic from my bones. “Why? Because I ask a few simple questions trying to understand what’s happening to me? I’m not the impossible one. You are.” I pushed around him and continued walking, hurling the rock as far as I could into the trees. I’d never met anyone who grated on my nerves as much as Anders did. It was infuriating, annoying, and exasperating.

“Kaia,” Anders said from behind me. It was the first time he’d used my name.

“What?”

“You’re going the wrong way.”

Surveying the surrounding area, there weren’t any trails. “Well, which direction are we headed?” I folded my arms against my chest.

“That way.” He motioned to the left, the corners of his lips pulling up ever so slightly. “There’s a cave thirty feet ahead. It’s small, but it’ll offer us some protection for the night. And seeing as how I haven’t slept in two days, I’m rather tired.”

I trudged off in the direction he pointed, navigating between several trees to a cluster of boulders covered with bright green moss. Anders went around the side to a narrow, dark crevice between two of the boulders. Turning sideways, he shoved his way into the darkness.

“That’s a cave?” I asked, reminding myself that the assassin wouldn’t kill or harm the last Kriger. After all, he needed me.

“Sort of,” he called out. “Before you come in, grab some branches and pine needles so I can light a fire.”

Within five minutes, I’d managed to pick up an armful of fallen branches. After shoving them through the opening, I crawled on the ground and collected two handfuls of pine needles and squeezed inside the cave.

“Here.” I stuck out my hands, not able to see a single thing since my eyes hadn’t adjusted. Anders’s fingers touched my stomach, and I squealed with surprise.

“Sorry,” he murmured. His fingers fumbled down my arms to my hands. He took the pine needles and quickly withdrew. “Can you move away from the opening so I can see?”

I scooted over and gingerly sat down. A few moments later, there was a spark, and the fire took. Anders knelt on the other side of the flames, avoiding me. He wasn’t kidding when he said the cave was small. It was barely large enough for the two of us to sleep in. I removed my boots and rubbed my sore feet.

“Hungry?” he asked, his voice hoarse. I nodded. “I’ll find us something to eat. Stay here.”

After he hurried from the cave, I removed my knit cap and massaged my scalp. I wanted to arrive at our destination tomorrow so my questions could be answered. Who was Vidar, and how did he fit into all of this? How did Anders, an assassin, end up helping the Krigers? Why was I the only female Kriger, and how did I come into my powers early? And above all lingered the question I feared the answer to—did I have a nightmare about Morlet, or did he somehow communicate with me? The image of him standing before me in that eerie, black cloak was seared into my mind.

A short time later, Anders returned carrying a small jackrabbit. He’d already skinned and tied the animal to a stick. He sat across from me and began cooking it. The shadows from the flames flickered on his face, making him look foreboding and harsh—every bit the assassin he was.

“When I met you in the Town Square,” I said, “what was the black jar I gave you?”

He kept his focus on the jackrabbit. “Does it matter?”

“No, not really.” Was it poison? Medicine? Or something else?

“You didn’t give me anything,” he said. “You simply delivered something that was already mine.”

Why couldn’t he just answer a simple question? Why did everything have to be so complicated with him? Fine, if he didn’t want to converse civilly, I would ignore him.

Once the meat was cooked, he handed me my portion, and I devoured it. After licking my fingers clean, I turned my back to Anders and lay down. There wasn’t enough room for him to do the same unless he put the fire out and removed the ashes. At this point, I didn’t care. He could fend for himself. Why should I be polite to him when he was barely civil to me?

Anders sighed. “A sleeping potion.”

“Excuse me?” I didn’t bother to look at him. The wall of the cave was right in front of my face, making my voice echo in the small area.

“You asked what was in the black bottle, and the answer is a sleeping potion for my darts.”

I remembered seeing darts embedded in the
soldats’
necks when Anders rescued me. “Deadly?”

He grunted as he kicked dirt onto the fire. The warm blaze on my back faded away. “It can be,” he answered.

“Is the apothecary involved with the secret organization that aids the Krigers?”

“No,” he replied. “He is simply my supplier. That is all.”

I kept perfectly still as Anders situated himself next to me. “How come—”

There was a small prick on my back. “I’m sorry,” the assassin whispered. “But I’m tired, and you enjoy talking far too much for my taste.”

My eyelids felt like lead, and then blackness engulfed me.

“Wake up,” a soothing voice whispered in my ear.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, pretending to still be asleep, too exhausted to walk again all day.

“I can feel you’re outside the capital’s walls, but where? The Forest of a Thousand Lakes is large, and I don’t want to spread my resources thin searching for you.”

My eyes flew open, and I bolted upright, finding myself on a soft, feather mattress, wrapped in silk sheets. Heavy fabric was draped above the bed and tied to each of the four posts. Soft wallpaper covered the walls, and several paintings framed in gold hung on them. A roaring fire in the hearth heated the room.

The mirror next to the bed revealed dirt and grime covering the side of my face, and my hair stuck out in all directions. I still had on the same clothes. Standing behind me was a black-caped figure. Twisting around, I came face-to-face with Morlet holding a small tray laden with food. It seemed like such an odd thing for a king to do. Almost
…
ordinary.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot,” he pleasantly said. “Let’s start over, shall we?” He sounded calm and cordial.

“Are you really communicating with me in a dream?” I demanded, wondering how his magic worked.

He chuckled. “I bring you food because you appear to be starving and instead of thanks, you question me. You are an interesting one.” He sat on a plush, red velvet chair next to the bed and slid the tray of food toward me.

Unable to resist, I grabbed the spoon and devoured the stew. The meat melted in my mouth, and the vegetables tasted divine. After scarfing down every last morsel, I pushed the tray to the end of the bed and sat cross-legged, facing him.

“You have questions,” he mused.

“I do.” Even though it seemed impossible, I knew this dream was somehow real, that I was with the man I was supposed to defeat—a monster that set people on fire and murdered hundreds for his own pleasure. This was the reason I existed. And here we sat, facing one another in his bedchamber. If only he would remove his cloak so I could see the man underneath it.

“You’ll need to refrain from asking anything tonight,” he kindly said. “I brought you here, so I will ask the questions. If you cooperate, the next time we meet you may ask me anything you wish. Understand?”

“No.” There was no way I was going to play along with him. “I want to know—”

“I’m asking the questions, not you,” he said, his voice instantly harsh. He tilted his head to the side, and light illuminated his chin and nose, revealing a fraction of the man beneath the cape. When he realized I was staring at him, he moved his head, once again concealing himself in the shadow of his hood. “Where are you?” he demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm,” he said, drumming his slender fingers on the arms of the chair. “Do I need to torture a child in front of you in order for you to cooperate?”

It sounded as if he was discussing what to have for dinner, not threatening me. “I honestly don’t know where we are.”

“We?”

My breath caught as I realized my error. “You and me,” I quickly answered, trying to play it off. “Is this the castle?”

He leaned back on his chair, observing me. Since I couldn’t see his face, I had no idea if he bought my excuse.

“When you wake up, where will you be?” he calmly asked. “In the forest?”

“Yes.” I was afraid if I didn’t tell him something, he’d make good on his threat. Since he already suspected as much, this truth could do no harm. Besides, I’d never be able to watch a child be tortured.

“How did you get out of the capital?” he asked, leaning forward. “I sealed the gates.”

I needed to tread carefully. “It was late at night, and
soldats
were after me. I ran until the wall was in sight.”

“Go on,” he encouraged.

“I’m not sure what happened,” I lied. “One minute I was inside the capital, the next, I was standing on the other side of the wall.” At first, I considering telling him that a citizen had helped me escape, but there was no reason to doom an innocent person. And under no circumstances could he know that blocks in the wall came loose. There needed to be a way to get back inside.

“And then you ran into the forest?”

“Yes.”

He crossed his legs. “There’s something you’re not telling me. I can feel it.” His voice was soft and seductive, making my head swim.

Wanting to change the subject, I stood and examined the room. Twelve paintings hung on the walls, each depicting a weapon of some sort. One in particular felt as if it had a life all its own. Moving toward the long, wooden pole, the elegant but deadly looking weapon mesmerized me. It appeared to be about five or six feet tall with intricate carvings along the entire length of it.

“I always wondered why I never found all twelve Krigers. It never occurred to me that one of them could be female. It’s clear you’re a Kriger. Not only can I feel your power, but you’re drawn to your weapon. That’s a bo staff.”

Forcing myself to look away from the painting, I felt the compulsion to touch it instantly vanish. Turning my attention to Morlet, my head suddenly felt like someone was squeezing it, and my eyes grew heavy. “I’m in a cave,” I murmured against my will.

Morlet tilted his head back, revealing his callous smile. “I’d like to be friends,” he purred. “What’s your name?”

“Kaia,” I responded, unable to stop my mouth from speaking. Forcing myself to look away from the king, my head immediately cleared. He chuckled. I moved to the bed and sat down, not sure where to look in order to keep my wits about me.

“You’re stronger than the others,” he mused. “I wonder why.”

Clasping my hands together, I bit my tongue to try to wake myself up in order to break my connection with the king.

“Since you’re being honest with me,” Morlet said, interrupting my thoughts, “I’m going to tell you something personal about me.”

Curiosity overruled practicality, and I unclasped my hands, waiting for him to continue. The only information I knew about the king was whispered stories told by my father or the few people I’d come across who were willing to speak. Those stories were violent nightmares of terror, destruction, and death.

“My name is Espen,” he revealed.

The words dangled in the air, teasing me. “I thought it was Morlet.”

“That is the name most people know me as,” he said, uncrossing his legs under his black cloak. “Morlet Forseve—the dark force. My birth name is Espen, although no one has called me that in years.”

“Then why did you tell me?” Did it make a difference what his name was?

“Because someone should know.” Scooting to the edge of his chair, he said, “You’re going to change everything. You will either be the death of me, or set me free.” He reached toward me. “Why do I feel us losing our connection?”

“I don’t know.” The air around us shimmered.

“There has to be a reason I can only communicate with you at certain times. It’s like there’s something preventing me from linking to you.” There was desperation in his voice that I didn’t understand. “Find out what’s blocking my ability to sense you,” he pleaded as my body faded away.