The Myatheira Chronicles: Volume Two: Beyond the Veil (83 page)

With his arm cleared from her neck she began to scream, frantic, shrill cries that echoed on the air, reverberating through the trees. The more noise she made, the easier it would be for Callum to find her. Paying no attention to her frozen and swollen fingers she lashed out with her fists at the man’s abdomen where he knelt, the blows having no effect on him. He laughed, swatting her hands away to tear at the laces of her bodice, a hungry, lustful gleam in his eyes.

From his boot he retrieved a smaller blade, sharp and deadly for what it was. Managing to loosen the laces, he cut across her midsection, easily tearing through the thin fabric of her chemise, blood trickling from a slash that appeared just above her naval. The sight of his weapon reminded her of something. A final glimmer of hope she had in getting away. The bracer. Uttae was a smart man. He knew the importance of having blades stashed which would be otherwise undetected by an unsuspecting enemy. If she could just get it free from its hiding place. It had to be done in a way where the man wouldn’t see. If he became aware of the weapon, he would disarm it, and she would be left helpless.

Lifting her arms above her head she brought her hands together, the left positioned against the top of the bracer adorning her right wrist. To her benefit the man was too focused on her body to care what her hands were doing. He tugged on her skirt to get underneath it, his weight released from atop her legs. In his haste he was making mistakes. Errors that might go unnoticed by any other woman, but she saw them all. They worked to her advantage.
Scream. Keep screaming or he’ll know something isn’t right
. Raising her voice again, she let the shrill cries ring through the woods. The dagger was almost loose. Although she felt nothing in her right hand, the tips of her fingers on the left retained a slight sensation of touch, slowly inching the weapon into its grasp.

There. She had it. The man’s weight was heavy on top of her, causing her body to sink into the moist soil and grass. He mumbled something, the words not reaching her in any semblance of coherence. She was bordering on hysterics. He was too close to her. His hands were all over her bare skin, maniacal laughter the only sound that cut through her thoughts. She needed to create an opening between their bodies in order to deliver the final strike. Wriggling in the mud she pushed herself back, sliding away from him, forcing him to move with her, somewhat off balance. Dagger clenched in her hand, she let it slip under, twisting her body one final time to create the gap she needed, piercing the blade through the center of his abdomen. His eyes opened wide in pain. Gathering her strength she plunged the tip deeper, the blade angled upward, wrenching it with a harsh jerk.

Blood poured from the wound, creating a grotesque warmth over her numb fingers. She laid there in shock, sobs racking her chest from under the weight of his dead body. Her head reeled at the thought of what happened. What this man almost did. In the frenzy of the moment, reality didn’t have time to sink in until it was over. Anguished cries were all she could muster, trembling uncontrollably. She knew what she needed to do but her body wasn’t listening. Callum needed her. She had to get out from under this man and find her way to the road. Her legs refused to move. The corpse felt as if it grew heavier with every second she laid there.

Someone was coming. They made no effort to conceal their approach, directed to her location by the sound of her breathless sobs. She needed to get away from there.
Think!
Why couldn’t she concentrate? Her dagger would be by the tree. If another of the men tried to attack, she could go for it. They hadn’t moved far from where it fell.

A sickening sound of flesh tearing accompanied the movement of her hand drawing the smaller blade from the man’s body. His weight was lifted from her in a sudden motion, tossed aside with nothing more than a strained groan from whoever had arrived. The action held no malice. She blinked to clear her vision, recognizing Callum’s face hovering over her, his hands urging her to her feet, frantically calling her name. In the back of her mind she heard his voice. For some reason it didn’t register. All she knew was that he was there. He was alive. But they weren’t safe yet. This man’s friends were all over the woods. She and Callum would have to fight through them before they could get on the road to the nearest town.

“Aiva! Gods, Aiva, talk to me!” he gasped, brushing the hair from her face to stare into her eyes. She could see him there, her gaze unfocused. He was looking her over for injuries, immediately taking notice of the blood-covered dagger in her hand. It answered his questions about what killed her assailant, though it spoke nothing of her condition beyond the obvious shock which had settled over her.

He pried her stiff fingers from the handle of the dagger, wiping the blood from the blade before securing it in the sheath of her bracer. The air was filled with the sound of cracking twigs, Callum’s motions becoming more frantic in his attempts to get her on her feet. “Aiva, they’re coming. I need you to stand. Can you do that for me? Please? Sweet Sarid, tell me you can hear me?”

Saying nothing, she pulled away from his grasp. Her dagger. She needed the other dagger. He was trying to give her something. A sword. Her sword? Had he found it? No – that wasn’t what she wanted. She couldn’t leave the dagger behind. Crawling on her hands and knees she searched through the grass until she caught sight of the blade embedded in the rich soil. There. She leaned back, struggling to fit it into the sheath at her thigh. Callum rushed to her side to help guide the blade into place, holding the sword out to her again.

The footsteps were coming closer. Heart pounding, she could feel the shock quickly shifting to anger. These men were scoundrels. Worse than scoundrels! They deserved the same fate she had dreamed of bestowing upon the men responsible for taking Shaelyn. Whatever pain she felt no longer registered to her senses. Filled with rage, she grabbed the sword from Callum’s outstretched hands. In a fluid motion she was on her feet, stance ready, eyes set on the trees in the direction of the road. Let them come. She wouldn’t be taken so easily a second time.

As the men stormed through the trees she made no attempt to count their numbers. They would fall easily enough. Clutching her sword tightly she charged forward, a loud battle cry splitting through the air. She wasn’t sure it had come from her until it faded away, the sound resonating in her head. Her blade met every sword, the clash of metal against metal followed by agonized groans with every mark she hit. Vaguely she was aware of Callum fighting at her side, their offense strong, cutting through the men with far greater ease than they had before. Determination flashed in her eyes. Parry. Thrust. The men were no match for them. No longer did she hold any hesitation to bring death upon these miscreants. Some people simply deserved to die.

In the back of her mind she wondered if this was what it had been like for her parents during the war. It had always been difficult for her to picture her mother and father so willing to strike down their opponent without thought of the life they took. She understood now. Although these men weren’t Ven’shal, they were evil. There was no guilt in destroying something so heartless. So vile! It almost brought her pleasure to see these men fall at her hands.

The road was in front of them. Somehow they had found their way through the trees. Callum bent over one of the bodies, retrieving a bow from the corpse, an empty quiver already strapped around his back. She recalled the arrow that struck one of her assailants before. The blow had been fired by one of their own weapons at Callum’s hand. He sought more ammunition, gathering what he could find. One of the horses left by the men stood in the road, prancing back and forth fearfully at the sound of battle. Callum grabbed onto the bridle, mounting the animal in a single leap, his hand extended to Aiva. She accepted without thought, sheathing her sword and allowing him to lift her into the saddle, positioning her to the front. His hands snapped the reins hard, the horse jerking swiftly into motion at a smooth gallop.

A mist was all that remained of the rain, washing over Aiva’s face as they ran, full-speed from the bodies left behind in their wake. It was refreshing. For the first time since leaving Dackdyn she could feel something. The rest of her body was numb but the rain – she could feel it, a reminder that she was still alive. They were victorious.

They rode for miles without slowing their pace. Distance was the best defense. In the clearing Aiva could see the sun brightening the sky along the horizon. Had they ridden through the night? She was losing track of time. A wooden sign posted into the ground ahead displayed the word Haverton. Upon seeing it Callum drew back on the reins, guiding the horse off the road. He lowered himself to the ground, hands quickly working to secure it to a tree, reaching to help Aiva down.

The moment her feet touched the grass she lost the last fragments of energy she had left. Deadweight, she slumped forward, caught in Callum’s arms just before her knees struck the ground. Careful not to let her fall, he guided her down, arms wrapped tightly around her. “Aiva, please. Talk to me,” he whispered desperately. “Why won’t you say something?”

There were no words to describe the way she felt. How could anyone expect her to put coherent statements together? Her head swam with the horrible images of that man on top of her. His hands sliding over her body. And that laugh! It haunted her. Resounding through every corner of her mind. Exhausted, she leaned into Callum’s arms, face buried in his shirt, her sobs muffled by his shoulder. He held her. Gently rocking back and forth in attempts to comfort her. She could sense he was distraught over the situation. He knew nothing of what transpired between her and that man in the woods. While she wanted to tell him that everything was okay and that she dealt the final blow before anything could happen, the words wouldn’t form on her lips. To say them out loud required her to admit that it was real.
It could have been so much worse…

They sat there for what felt like hours, saying nothing, only embracing one another in the soft drizzle of rain. When the sun began to ascend to herald the coming of the new day, Callum managed to tear himself away. Unsure of what else to do, he busied himself at adjusting the laces of Aiva’s bodice, doing his best to secure the ones that remained uncut. It was less than perfect. There was no time to spend at the shops in search of a new one. She would have to make-do with what she had. The chemise was destroyed. The shredded fabric hung haphazardly over the waistline of her skirt, soaked in blood. She couldn’t be sure if it was hers or her assailants. Perhaps a combination of both.

A new batch of tears flooded from her eyes to see the misery written on Callum’s face. Why did she always hurt him? Even when she didn’t intend to, somehow everything ended in torture. All he required was some word that she was alright and yet she withheld it.
Say something
. He would accept anything. Just to hear her speak. “I’m sorry,” she breathed. She didn’t know what else to say.

“Sorry?” he asked, a combination of relief and confusion evident in his voice. “What could you possibly have to be sorry for? This is not your fault.”

“You told me to keep going. If I had listened…”

“Hush, Aiva,” Callum took her in his arms again, tightly holding her against his chest. “There is no need to worry. We’re here now, right?” he gave a half-smile. The questions hung on the tip of his tongue. She could see in his eyes that he wanted to ask. Her hesitance left him unsure whether or not she was capable of answering. “You were incredible, Aiva. I almost didn’t recognize you. Your skill with the sword has improved vastly since you and I sparred last. It’s almost unsettling to think how easily you cut through those men without remorse. Taking a life is not usually… well, I expected you to be more hesitant.”

She looked at him, confused by the statement. Hesitant? How could she hesitate to rid this world of people like those men? “Do you feel guilt for ending their existence?” she asked, challenging him. “Should I feel remorse? Am I a bad person for believing that they deserved to die?”

“By the gods, no. I could never think you a bad person. I am merely… surprised. It makes me wonder what that man did which made you so hardened to their deaths.”

It was a trick. He hoped to get her to speak of what happened. Now was not the time. Not while she remained covered in blood and aching all over from the wounds inflicted upon her by the very man she wanted to forget.

She squinted at Callum. Her left eye hurt, the vision blurred. Every muscle in her body continued to tremble, worse than before, the shivers shooting through her spine with greater intensity. The illness was getting worse. Although she hated to admit it, she needed to get somewhere to rest. But they were so close! They could be in Targas by nightfall if she could just make it through the day. Just one more day.

“I want to see my father,” she replied quietly. “I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Disheartened at her unwillingness to speak, Callum nodded. He helped her stand, cautious not to move with too much haste. “You need a doctor,” he frowned. “If by the grace of Sarid our fathers are in Targas, will you let them look at you?”

“Even if they are not in Targas, I promise to rest when we arrive. Just please… I want to go.”

“That is the fairest compromise I think you’ve ever made,” Callum gave a half-hearted chuckle. Boosting Aiva onto the saddle he untied the horse, climbing up behind her to signal the animal into motion. Heedless of the angered looks he received from citizens along the streets in the city, he pushed the horse to its fastest speeds, wind whipping through their hair to mingle with the rain. Aiva leaned into him, grateful for his presence. Her agreement to rest when they reached their destination gave him renewed purpose in covering the road without pause. At the speed they travelled, he would have them there before dark. She could only hope nothing else would stand in their way.

.

Chapter Twenty-Five

By the light of day the road felt less ominous. Fewer places for thieves to hide. More traffic passed between the towns of Haverton and Targas. Merchants carrying their wares from one city to the next in search of new customers. When the rain stopped Aiva could sense the warmth of the sun shining down upon them, though it did nothing to ease the chill that had settled over her body. Her trembling worsened. The ache in her stomach increased until it was more of a steady, constant pain, like that of a knife being slowly twisted into her abdomen.

She could think of nothing but the agony throughout her body. It cast a haze over her senses, her thoughts distracted, unable to concentrate on the road ahead. Through the fog she was aware Callum had brought the horse to a halt. He was pulling her from the saddle, his strong arms lifting to keep her off the ground. Water. She could hear the gentle ripple of a river flowing along its course. It was coming closer. Her left eye was swollen, hindering her vision. She could see the bank of a small river coming into view, its water surprisingly clear given the murkiness of the landscape. Callum’s feet splashed upon entering the water, carrying her to a large rock situated just below the surface. It acted as a chair where he sat Aiva on top of it, staring at her in concern while the water rushed over her legs.

“We need to clean you up a bit before we reach Targas,” he stated calmly. His hand clasped hers, holding it under the water to carefully rub away the mud caked between her fingers. She watched him, dazed, somewhat fascinated by the process. From her position she could see him better than she had that morning. He looked miserable. And hurt. His shirt was sliced at different angles, the white fabric stained with blood. Through the dirt on his face she saw the unmistakable mark of a bruise along his right cheek, swollen and painful, reminding her of the purple and blue that had covered his entire body throughout their stay in Tunir. Dried flakes of blood sat in the creases under his nose and around his eyes, tinting the corners of his mouth. Scratches left red marks over the left side of his face, the skin agitated from whatever created the injury. It felt selfish of her to be wrapped up in her own wounds when Callum so clearly suffered the same. She just couldn’t focus. Her head swam, dizzy, leaving her unsteady and unable to think.

When his hand reached her face, she flinched at the sensation of his touch, a sharp pain radiating across her left cheek and into her eye. Callum winced at her discomfort. Despite her obvious pain, he continued his gentle cleansing, hands scooping water from the river to pour it over her head, softening the hardened dirt, making it easier to wipe away. Something on her face stung all over. She felt as if the skin was on fire. Flashes of images spattered her vision of being draped over the man’s horse, racing through the harsh foliage in the woods, thorns tearing at her skin. The marks had bled. She hadn’t seen it, but she remembered the sticky feeling of it along her face.

The river was soothing. Its gentle rhythm reminded her of the rain while at sea. How comforting it had been to sit there in the little cabin room, curled in Callum’s arms, listening to the sound. She smiled at the memory. The first smile she could remember crossing her lips since before the attack. Her left hand reached for Callum’s where he stood at her back, washing the mud from her hair, diligent in his efforts. Lightly she pulled him around in front of her. Cautious of her footing, she stood with him in the water, lifting her face upward to place a tender kiss upon his lips. He looked taken aback at first, quickly regaining his composure, arms wrapped around her in a loving embrace. She was safe there. It helped wash away so many of the bad feelings she had felt since the raiders carried her off.

“Everything is going to be alright,” she said softly, her fingers weaving through Callum’s hair. He reached out for her hand to gently kiss the back of it.

“I’m more worried about you right now,” he replied. “You are able to stand. That is good. I feared you lost consciousness not long outside of Haverton. We will be in Targas soon, though. You will have plenty of time to rest once we get there.”

“How far until we reach the city?”

“No more than two miles. I thought the river would do us both some good before we face anyone in town.”

“I think you’re right,” Aiva smiled. Her steps remained unsteady as she let Callum lead her out of the water to dry. Sweat along Callum’s brow told her that the heat was building. She felt nothing. Another shiver coursed through her spine, visibly rocking her body. Why was she so cold? And so tired! Her eyes drooped heavily. It had to be the lack of sleep from the travel of the last two days.

Wringing the excess water from her skirt, Callum examined Aiva to make sure her clothes were presentable. He tucked the tattered pieces of her chemise into the waistline of her skirt and under the torn fabric of the bodice. At first glance she looked put-together. Wet, but respectable enough, outside of the wounds. Shakily, she ran her fingers through her hair to clear away any tangles. There was nothing else to be done. The people in Targas would have to accept her looking the way she did. If anything, she would fit in. The townspeople in Luquarr were far from clean and well-groomed.

Back in the saddle she leaned against Callum, her excitement starting to return at the thought of reaching Targas. It was there in the distance. A rickety sign posted along the road announced their arrival, an invisible weight lifting from Aiva’s shoulders. She didn’t know if it was the town or the thought of rest that excited her most.

Callum slowed their pace, searching the buildings and shops as they passed to locate a place to stop. With a relieved breath he directed the horse to a post outside a smaller wooden structure, his hands motioning toward it with a triumphant smile. “We found the inn,” he exhaled loudly. “Let’s get you inside so you can sleep.”

Grateful for the thought of rest Aiva tried to help herself from the horse, feet stumbling ungracefully over the gravel. Callum caught her. Steadying her. She shivered from a sudden cold only she could feel, arms hugged tightly around her body for warmth. They had taken only a single step toward the door of the inn when she saw something in her peripheral vision. A man. He stood across the street outside what looked like a tavern, a soft green glow pulsing from his eyes. Their green light was fixated on her and Callum. At her notice, he took a step forward, the green sparking brighter, the familiar light registering in Aiva’s mind. She knew those eyes. Part of her was convinced she would never see them again, but there they were. Was she dreaming? Could it really be? “Gadiel?” she gasped.

Hearing the name Callum’s head perked up, his gaze shifted to follow Aiva’s eyes. The man was coming closer, every step solidifying her belief that he was their lost friend. Callum moved them away from the inn, his hands around Aiva’s waist for support, helping to cover the gap between them.

“By the gods, am I seeing ghosts?” Gadiel exclaimed. He rushed forward, reaching out to touch them as if afraid his fingers would pass through their bodies. “How is this possible? We thought you were dead.”

“We nearly were. It’s a long story which can be told later.” Callum left an arm around Aiva, extending the other to his friend in a welcome embrace. Gadiel accepted him, the look of astonishment and wonder never leaving his face.

He moved from Callum, his gaze softening into an expression of concern to see Aiva. In a gentler hold he took her in his arms, holding her against him as if she was a porcelain doll, worried she would break if he squeezed too tightly. “What happened to the Princess? She looks ill.”

“I have been telling her that for days and she refuses to accept it. Tell me, Gadiel. Is her father inside? He may be the only person capable of convincing her to seek help.”

Gadiel nodded, waving toward the tavern door without taking his eyes from them. “The General is with him. They are discussing a plan of action. We believe the pirates have taken the young Princess to North Pointe. We only just arrived in Targas last night. The intent was to send scouts ahead, however, with the night being that of Diqun, we set up camp outside the city and waited to send the scouts until morning. We have no word yet.”

The smile faded from Callum’s face, turning his gaze to the sky. “Last night? The veil completed? How could I have missed that? I should have paid better attention. I am a fool…”

“Callum, stop,” Aiva cut in quietly. She refused to let him beat himself up over something that wasn’t his fault. It was her insistence to keep moving which caused them to remain exposed to the night. “What happened last night could have transpired on any evening, regardless of whether Karana was witness or not. You said it yourself that such things are to be expected in Luquarr. Do not make things worse by adding blame upon your shoulders.”

“You traveled through the night?” Gadiel looked at them in disbelief. “Did something happen?”

Callum’s eyes fell on Aiva, his pain visible to see the injuries there on her face. “I don’t know,” he replied, a soft calm settled in his tone. “We were attacked by raiders. The extent of Aiva’s injuries remains a mystery.”

“I am going inside. You can accompany me if you like,” Aiva stated firmly. She wasn’t going to stand there and let him guilt her into discussing the topic in front of Gadiel. It was humiliating enough without having to explain it in more detail to someone who wasn’t present for the attack.

Her knees wobbled on her first step. Not a good start if she hoped to give the impression of health. Callum moved forward with her, his hand at her waist to keep her balanced. A loud thud had begun to echo through her head with the race of her heart. Her father was inside. She had dreamt of all the things she would say to him in this moment but for some reason her mind was blank. The scripted greeting felt empty. Once she walked through that door, words would cease to mean anything. She longed to look upon his face. To see him smile. Drawing in a deep breath she tried to prepare herself. A twinge of fear mingled with her happiness to think of how he would react to Callum.
He won’t say anything in front of the others
. That much she could count on. Repercussions of matters in the past would be dealt with in private.

Inside the door she was surprised to find the room less crowded than the tavern in Dackdyn. Targas was a smaller town, less populated. Her eyes swept the room in search of the two faces she and Callum had come to see. At her side she heard Callum inhale sharply, muscles tensed. Near the back, she followed his gaze to a far booth where three men were seated, heads bowed in toward one another, deep in conversation. Aiva recognized them instantly. Her heart fluttered until she feared she might pass out. Thade was seated to the outside, facing the door, pale and drawn, dark circles deep and uncharacteristic underneath his eyes. At his side Edric sat, staring absently down at the table. She couldn’t tell if he was even paying attention to what was being spoken between their father and the man situated across from him. Cadell. From where she stood, only the back of his head was visible, though she knew his posture. The poise he carried. The General was unmistakable.

Gadiel pushed through the door behind them, his quick movement catching Thade’s attention. His silvery eyes shifted toward the entrance momentarily. In his distraction he started to return his focus on Cadell before seeming to realize something was out of place, looking back to set his solemn, hopeful gaze upon Aiva. He was too far away for her to hear him speak though she could read his lips, forming her name upon them.

Instantly he was on his feet. Edric’s head shot up from its dreary pose, looking at his father in confusion. Words passed between them as Thade moved from the table, quickly followed by Edric and Cadell. “Aiva!” Thade breathed, rushing forward to catch her in his arms. “My gods, you are alive. I thought you were lost to me.”

“No, father,” she whispered, returning his embrace, ignoring the pain caused by his tight hold. She didn’t care if it hurt. Her father was there. They had made it. “I am a Levadis. You know we do not go down easy.”

He laughed quietly, pulling away to examine her. She hated how awful she must look. In his arms he would no doubt be aware of the chill on her skin. He wouldn’t be quite so easy to dissuade from the thought of illness as Callum.

Behind her she was aware of Callum still standing there, rigid beside Gadiel near the door. He made no move to cover the floor between him and his father, their eyes locked on one another, saying nothing. She watched them, fearful of what Cadell might do. How could he be angry at a time like this? Whatever accusations he held against Callum seemed trivial when reunited with a son he believed dead.

It was Cadell who broke first. A grimace cut through his stern features, arms outstretched toward Callum. “My son,” he said softly. “I thought I lost you, boy.”

The view of the reunion was interrupted by Edric’s figure finding his way to where Aiva remained wrapped in her father’s embrace. He joined in the joyous hug, the pressure from his arms adding to that already bearing down on her from Thade. It was hard to breathe, tucked between the bodies of her father and brother. All the terrible things from the last few months vanished in that instant. If only her mother could be there. She found herself longing to leave the mission behind and return to Tanispa.

Thade’s hand came to rest on Aiva’s forehead, his concerned expression deepening. “We need to get you off your feet,” he stated, clearly worried. “You are frozen through.”

“She needs a doctor,” Callum said from over his father’s shoulder, distracted from their embrace at the mention of Aiva’s condition. “I have not had a chance to determine what ails her exactly and she is not being forthcoming with information regarding her symptoms. All I know is that they are getting worse.”

“That sounds like my sister,” Edric smiled nervously. “I’m afraid to ask why she is dressed the way she is. We need to get her covered. It’s no wonder she is sick.”

“This is nothing compared to what she was wearing before. You’re lucky I convinced her to change,” Callum gave a half-smile, moving away from his father to stand at Aiva’s side. “All joking aside, she needs rest. Do you have a camp near here? Somewhere she could lie down? We were going to find a room at the inn, but if there is a place she could sleep where she would be close to her family, it is preferred.”