Broken Forest: Book One of the Daath Chronicles (4 page)

BOOK: Broken Forest: Book One of the Daath Chronicles
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Three deep breaths later, I continued tracking, recalling Calli’s every detail. I examined the footprints smeared on the grass. The large heavy prints of the captors and the faint small prints of my sisters, both crisscrossing each other in a rugged path.

“Find anything?” Derrick said.

“Not yet.”

“Time’s running out.”

I glanced at the sky. The suns were descending. Soon it would be night. My chest tightened, and I had to control my breathing again, pushing aside the fear of losing Jeslyn.

Wild strawberries spread in all directions. By the stream lay two wicker baskets smashed into splinters.

“Do you think she’s still…?” Derrick gripped the wooden emblem he always wore—a symbol of The Creator, three wavy lines, representing water, enclosed with a circle.

“I don’t know.”

I traced each step, imagining how the attack unfolded. I pictured the three men Calli described—how did she escape when Jeslyn couldn’t? I studied the dance at my feet—two had fallen, and then they’d stood. I spun to the left, following the vicious display. In one direction were Calli’s footsteps and two of the kidnappers while Jeslyn’s tracks led to where the woods began.

There, on a tree, swayed a red ribbon. I walked over and grabbed it from the branch.

“I gave that to her yesterday,” Derrick said and I handed him the ribbon.

He tied the cloth around his wrist. His jaw clenched.

The dead forest stood in front of us. I squinted past the long line of black and grey trees. “This way,” I said, and slowly we led the horses into the blackened woods.

Cherrywood, a once vivacious forest, had been torched last summer by a lighting storm. Some of the vegetation had started growing back, but not the trees. Beautiful oaks now resembled twisted iron. I stared at the tall black pillars, and my heart sank.

Wind passed through the forest, causing the broken trees to creak and groan. Crows screeched from overhead. A trio of ravens pecked a dead rabbit. Every sound made my pulse beat faster. Derrick pointed out a piece of cream fabric stuck on a briar bush. I inspected it, remembering the dress Jeslyn wore at breakfast. Pain and anger swallowed my fear, pushing me deeper into the woods, towards her.

I don’t remember fainting, but I must have, because I awoke in a sea of black. Was I still unconscious? No. The ground moved beneath me. My eyes were still adjusting to the dark, and I couldn’t see if I was alone.

It smelled awful, urine mixed with body odor. I covered my mouth with one hand and searched the area with the other.
Is this hay
? My fingers touched the thin, tough object. Yes, most certainly hay. I heard a rustle in the dark.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” On my knees, I inched my way towards the noise, my eyesight getting sharper. Fear pricked my skin, making me hot and cold at the same time. Where was my family? Where was Calli? What if Calli hadn’t made it home? What if she was dead?

Don’t think such things,
I thought.
Everything will be all right. I just need to find my way out of here.
I could hear men talking outside and thought I might be in a wagon.

Searching the rough floor, I grazed cold skin and jerked my hand away.

A hand snatched my arm.

“Get off me!” I yelped.

“Don’t scream,” said a young girl with haunting eyes, her face barely visible in the dark. Her hand tightened around my arm. I pushed against her.

“Let go of me,” I said.

“Shh,” she hissed. “Please, you must be quiet.”

“Why?”

The sound of metal grinding echoed around me.

The girl’s eyes swelled with fear. “They’re coming,” she whispered, and slid away, deeper into the darkness.

Light poured in from the open door and I shielded my eyes. A man stood in the sunlight, his face and body silhouetted.

“Quiet in here,” he said, voice thunderous.

“Who are you?” I said. “Where are you taking me?”

“I said,
quiet
!”

My voice lost itself, and I cowered against the wall.

“Any noise and I’ll see that you’re silenced.”

He didn’t wait for my response. The door closed, taking with it all the light. The girl with me said nothing, making the dark even more unbearable.

Pulling my knees against my chest, I closed my eyes and said the prayer for protection. Mother always said The Creator would protect us. I held onto her words, letting them comfort me. I was brave and only a few things terrified me, but my biggest fear of all was the dark.

Panic pricked my chest. I forced myself into distraction thinking of Derrick, pulling happy memories of him from my mind and letting them shield me from the blackness.

If I could pretend I was somewhere else, I would survive this.

The girl across from me coughed.

I followed the sound, scooting closer to her. “Do you know where they’re taking us?” I whispered.

“No, and you must be silent. Please.”

“I will, just a few more questions. I promise he won’t hear us.”

When she didn’t respond, I continued. “Where are you from?”

“Urima,” she said.

“Urima? How? That’s on the other side of The Valley of the Kings.”

“I don’t know…”

Urima was on the western shores of Tarrtainya and, due to the long valley, there were only a few passage-ways to it. It would take a normal caravan weeks, possibly months, to make the journey.

“Do you know why they took us?”

“No, but I heard one of the guards say they only had a few more girls to collect.”

“Collect? For what?”

An object banged against the side of the wagon, scaring me so that I lost my breath. The girl placed a hand over my mouth. I could just make out her fear-stricken face.

I nodded, but it was already too late.

The wagon door flung open.

“I thought I said no talking, girl.”

His dark hand reached for me, and I screamed, louder than I ever had before.

Silence surrounded us. No chirps, no big bellied frogs, nothing, not even the wind. Doubt taunted me. All my life I’d wanted to adventure outside of Lakewood. To go on a grand quest and become a heroic ranger. I’d pestered my father to teach me everything he knew about herbs, hunting and tracking. It seems luck has a sense of irony.

The trail we followed from the woods led to one of the main trade routes. Derrick guzzled water out of a canister while I assessed the road. Grooved into the dirt were big wagon tracks continuing north. Jeslyn’s footsteps disappeared next to one of them. I counted four wagons next to six horses. Calli described the men as ragged looking. I assumed they were Roamers, nomads passing through. I should have known they would be with a larger group. Roamers always travelled in packs.

“What is it?” Derrick’s husky voice cut through the eeriness.

“There are more than three kidnappers.” I pushed my flap of hair out of my eyes and sighed.

“What do you mean ‘more’?”

“The tracks we’ve been following end with these wagons. She must be in one of them.”

Derrick rubbed his forehead. “How many men?”

“Maybe ten, maybe twelve. I can’t be certain.”

Derrick’s face scrunched in horror. “Twelve men? We can’t handle that many.”

I refused to believe that. “We’ll surprise them. Set traps if we have to. We’re both skilled fighters, and I can take down at least three with my bow before they suspect a thing. We can do this.”

Derrick began pacing. The claymore strapped to his back bobbed with each step. “This is different, Avi. We should go back to the village and get help.”

I shook my head. “No, it will take too long. By the time we return here it’ll be almost two days. And what if it rains? These tracks will vanish.” I turned away from him and petted my horse, Brushfire, before climbing back onto the saddle.

Derrick’s shoulders slouched. “I hope you’re right.”

We rode hard and swift, pushing the horses to their limits and only taking brief moments of rest. By sunset on the second day, we had to stop.

“How could they be so far ahead of us?” Derrick said. “They’re in wagons!” He tied the horses to a large tree and we searched for water.

“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my scalp. “We should have caught up to them by now.” Every dung I had checked was old, none of it made sense. We were moving fast. Wagons couldn’t move faster than us.

A wolf howled in the distance. I shivered. A fog had rolled in with the setting suns, covering the bottom of the forest. I surveyed the tall pine trees and tried to pinpoint our location. We headed straight, north on the eastern trade route, which would bring us to—Raswood Forest.

“Derrick,” I said, pulling my long sword out.

Derrick arched a brow at me, then folded his arms and grinned. “Scared of a wolf are you?”

“We’re in Raswood Forest,” I whispered.

Derrick’s face paled, and in one swift movement, his claymore was out and pointed at a tree. “You could’ve warned me.”

Raswood Forest, one of the wild territories Father taught me about. Full of wild predators, including winter wolves—large white nightmares that hunted in packs and killed anything in their path. I’d rather face a group of Roamers than have to fight one of those beasts.

It was too dark to hunt, but we had to find food. The fanna we packed would only sustain us for so long. I thought we would’ve found Jeslyn and been back already. Where were they taking her?

BOOK: Broken Forest: Book One of the Daath Chronicles
10.43Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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