Exile (29 page)

“What is this place?”

Cadmar’s gaze swept the scene. His lips pressed together in a tight line.

“This is Segys,” Ian offered. “It is one of the two cities Emperor Rylan sent Yiloch to destroy. The ones that earned him the nickname of the Blood Prince.”

Indigo shuddered at the thought of the senseless slaughter. The man she loved had done this.

Ian swept out a hand out to indicate the burned area. “The fire got out of control on this side, burning part of the forest before the adepts managed to contain it. AhnSegys, on the south side of the river, was rebuilt. Segys was left like this, preserved by Rylan’s adepts as a warning to any who might dare to incite his wrath.”

Indigo felt a change in ascard around them and looked askance at Ian.

He shrugged. “I changed our appearance. Imperial soldiers aren’t much loved around here.”

“I can imagine.”

They passed through the dead village at speed, crossing the river into AhnSegys. The villagers, despite their altered disguise, watched them with open suspicion as they passed through. No one smiled or attempted to speak to them and Indigo, feeling a guilt she knew wasn’t hers to feel, was relieved to leave the place behind.

As dusk fell upon them once more, they found a spot away from the main road to set up camp and she decided to indulge her curiosity about her companions while they sat around the fire rather than spend more time fretting over their situation.

“How did you come to be in Yiloch’s company, Ian?”

Ian gazed for several minutes into the darkness beyond Cadmar who sat silent across from him. She was about to repeat the question when he looked at her.

“I’d been in Yiroth less than a month, hoping to earn a place in the palace, when Yiloch was exiled. I probably would have stayed if Adran and Eris hadn’t insisted otherwise. I didn’t understand their devotion to him. He terrified me.” He lowered his gaze, picking at a patch of grass. “I only knew Yiloch through rumors that abounded after the destruction of Segys and AhnSegys. I was relieved when he vanished. When his father imprisoned him,” he clarified. “I didn’t want to be part of his rebellion. Then he returned, thanks to you, and he took me with him to arrange the alliance with Caithin. My role in that was similar to do what I’m doing now. I was to disguise the entourage so we wouldn’t be recognized.”

Another long silence extended and Indigo waited, sensing that interruption might discourage him from continuing.

When his picking had dramatically reduced the patch of grass, he continued. “Along the way, we ran into a rogue imperial patrol and they picked a fight with us. I tried to show off, using my ability to create shields for our soldiers, only I overextended and blacked out. The illusion vanished and Yiloch was recognized. He managed to kill the soldier who recognized him, but he was furious. I thought he was going to kill me for a moment. A few minutes later, when his temper cooled, he asked me if I understood what I had done wrong. I did, and I respected him for coming back to talk to me about it. That’s when I started wanting to help him. A little peculiar, isn’t it?” An awkward smile flitted across his features.

She smiled fondly in return. “Not at all. He helped you grow, if perhaps a little indelicately. What about you, Cadmar?” She shifted her position to focus on him.

Cadmar met her gaze easily. “Like you, Lady Indigo, I have never sworn loyalty to Yiloch.”

She hadn’t expected that. “But you’ve acted in his service. You stayed behind in Demin to guide Caithin’s soldiers and healers to the rendezvous in Lyra. That was done at Yiloch’s bidding, wasn’t it?”

Cadmar grinned. He disappeared into the darkness with his dark skin, but his teeth flashed bright in the firelight. “Whether he asks or orders, everything he wants of me is done by my choice or no. Hax came to my village and trained in swordsmanship under me for a time. I fell in love with her. That was before Yiloch’s exile from Yiroth. When he turned against his father, she chose to join him. I followed her. He knows I love her and has never taken advantage of that knowledge. I respect him for that and I believe he could be a great leader, so when I am asked to help, I often do. He has offered me official status, but he never argues when I decline. For the respect he has given me, I can do no less than I do for him.”

She nodded. “He may not have your sworn loyalty, but he has you all the same, just as he has me.”

Cadmar eyed her for a minute and she waited for him to contradict her. Eventually, he nodded and said, “Perhaps he does at that.” Then he stretched out and closed his eyes.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

It took several days to reach the first Silik villages beyond the Denilik tribal lands. The Silik were a far more aggressive tribe than their southern neighbors, which explained why they owned much of the land on the banks of the Endwater, the major river that supplied most of the tributaries keeping Kudan alive. The Kudaness called the river Silgandveswyr, which translated roughly as Silgand’s tether. According to their mythology, Silgand, the Kudaness water god, resided in the oceans and maintained the river as a connection to his people.

Because of their notoriously aggressive nature, Yiloch had dreaded passing through the Silik tribal lands, but the army that continued its destructive trek north ahead of them had also decimated those villages, leaving no one alive. Careful searching discovered a few useful supplies well hidden in some of the huts and the river helped refresh them. The third Silik village they came to was silent like the rest, but there were no bodies. Though the churned sand and ransacked huts attested to the passing of the army, there was no sign of the Silik people who resided there.

After sending Ferin to rest in an abandoned hut and donning the wrap to shield himself from the sun, Yiloch began a systematic search for supplies. His efforts earned them a second, half-full water skin, which would be invaluable as they continued north away from the river, and a few food items to help keep their strength up. They were already rationing their supplies. Travelling through the arid lands of Kudan was hard enough without knowledge of edible plants in the region. With villages empty of people with whom they might have traded and the food and water scavenged by the army, it was becoming nearly impossible.

Yiloch dropped the few supplies in the hut where Ferin rested and left again. He wasn’t done yet. Heading out to one edge of the village, he began a wide trek around the perimeter. It was easy to find where the horsemen had entered and where they left, still heading north. That wasn’t what he was looking for.

The muscles in his legs were beginning to adjust to the added effort of walking in the soft mix of sand and rock. He finally understood the powerful legs the Kudaness warriors always had. Facing the heat without Ferin’s barrier, however, made the trek around the village far more arduous. Still, the adept needed rest or he wouldn’t have the energy to continue.

Yiloch stopped. Here, on the western side beyond the area trampled by horses, he found what he was looking for. A large number of people had travelled that way on foot. The villagers had abandoned their homes. Perhaps they received word from someone who escaped the slaughter further south. That was unlikely though, considering the army would have overtaken anyone travelling on foot, even a Kudaness warrior. The other possibility was that a suac here had foreseen the coming army and warned the village. Each tribe had many lesser priests of the Ithik Ani, but only one high priest, or suac. That meant only one village per tribe had a suac in residence. If the Silik tribe’s suac lived further north, it made sense that a warning might not have reached the southernmost villages in time.

Knowing that the villagers had deserted wasn’t a comfort. They would probably return, and the when of that return could prove critical for them. They needed supplies for their journey. In this situation, he would have preferred to trade for those supplies. The Silik might not take kindly to finding Yiloch and Ferin in their ransacked village helping themselves to whatever they needed. Still, they had to rest. There was no getting around that. They had to risk staying for a while or Ferin would fall to his exertions. The cumulative strain was wearing him down more than their short rests could restore.

The foreign army’s horses have to rest too
, he told himself on his walk back to the hut, trying to find some solace in the thought. The horses were moving faster though, and that meant that the army got closer to his empire every day while he fell further behind. Frustration welled in him, but he shut it off and stretched out on some blankets in the hut. He could fret over such things tomorrow if he wished. It would do no more good then, but at least it wouldn’t interfere with his sleep.

•

They started out at dawn the next morning. Yiloch hoped to leave earlier, but Ferin was faltering. In the early hours, it was cool enough that they could wear Kudaness wraps to shield from the rays of the sun and travel for a time without the barrier. They had done so for much of the trip, managing until almost noon before turning to Ferin’s power for protection from the heat. Yet, even with that effort, Yiloch could see that the adept was fading. It wasn’t the strength of his connection that earned Ferin his rank, it was his extensive knowledge of many different ascard skills in combination with his leadership ability. Unfortunately, few of those skills were strong enough to be of much help in this situation.

They weren’t yet out of sight of the village when a group of Silik warriors came along. The two parties spotted each other at the same moment, which meant it was much too late for Yiloch and Ferin to avoid them.

“Halt!”

The command was pointless. They had already stopped to await the dark-skinned warriors. Trying to outrun Kudaness warriors in the sand would be nothing but a waste of energy and a death sentence besides. Ferin let out of soft groan, his lips twisting into a dreadful grimace where he stood at Yiloch’s side.

“Why are you here, pale ones?” One Silik warrior, apparently the ranking individual in the group, faced Yiloch as they approached, having determined him to be the leader of the two intruders.

The rest of the warriors, fifteen in all, encircled them and one poked at the Kudaness wrap Ferin wore with the tip of the ornate spear he carried. Yiloch turned to scowl at another warrior who tapped the curved Kudaness blade he carried with the tip of his spear before turning back to the one who had spoken. Given the size of the group, they were probably scouting to see if it was safe to return. Having to abandon the village to begin with would put them in a foul mood. Finding two Lyran men passing through carrying Kudaness supplies and weapons would only add fuel to that fire. He would have to handle the situation with care.

“We planned to barter with the Silik, but the village was empty and we needed to rest for the night. We used one of your huts for shelter,” Yiloch explained in the Silik dialect, keeping his tone respectful. The explanation sounded reasonable enough, so long as one ignored the peculiarity of two Lyran men wandering the desert and clearly ill equipped for the journey.

The warrior’s gaze focused beyond them and he nodded. Before Yiloch could react, a spear burst through Ferin’s chest from behind. The spray of blood stood out in brilliant contrast to the pastel colors of the desert. Yiloch drew the sword and spun in a swift, graceful movement intended to ward off further attack. There was little chance he could defeat this many trained warriors at once, but he was willing to die trying. No one else moved.

Ferin dropped to his knees and the warrior who had run him through placed a foot against his back and pulled his weapon free. He then met Yiloch’s eyes, his dark gaze cold and emotionless as he stepped back to his place in the circle. Yiloch glanced down at his companion, seeing Ferin’s eyes gloss over seconds before he toppled forward on the bloody ground.

The world turned red around the edges of his vision when he looked back up at Ferin’s killer. He wanted to demand an explanation, but didn’t trust himself to speak. More than that, he wanted blood for blood. The warrior deserved to die. As far as he was concerned, they all deserved to die now. He could barely think past the fury pounding through his veins.

“You have now paid for your bed and whatever else you have taken,” the ranking warrior declared, his hostile tone daring Yiloch to act in vengeance.

Yiloch turned and stepped toward him. Ornate spears and curved swords lifted around the circle in warning and he paused. If he attacked in his wearied state, he would die. He would never see Lyra saved from the threat of the army from across the Rhuakine. He had to try to save his empire.

“Where are you bound?”

“Lyra,” he hissed, reaching deep within himself to find the restraint he needed to survive this encounter.

The dark warrior laughed, though the amusement never touched his eyes. “How did you get here?”

“Ilikah put me here,” Yiloch stated, not interested in trying to explain the real situation to men who considered use of ascard to be a form of blasphemy.

“If Ilikah watches you, then you won’t need these things,” the warrior said, reaching for the bundle that held their supplies with the point of his spear.

Yiloch knocked the spear away with the sword, part of him still itching to start a fight despite the bleak odds. “You took your price,” he snarled.

“Fair enough, pale one, take your baggage and go.” He swept his spear out to indicate the unwelcoming expanse of desert that lay beyond the village.

Yiloch hefted the bundle, not yet sheathing the sword, and walked between two warriors. He hadn’t gotten far when the leader called after him.

“You forgot something, pale one.” Yiloch turned to see the man nudging Ferin’s body with his foot. “You brought this. Take it with you.”

The other warriors laughed. Yiloch drew on ascard and swapped himself with ascard in the space next to the dark, tattooed warrior. It was a waste of energy, but his sudden disappearance and reappearance in their midst cut off their laughter and all their weapons rose to the ready. Yiloch met the man’s eyes, standing almost nose to nose with him.