Night of the Storm: An Epic Fantasy Novel (The Eura Chronicles Book 2) (19 page)

THE RAIN OVER OREN BEGAN
to lessen for the first time in weeks since that horrifying night Queen Aria’s palace was sent crashing to the ground.

The fog, a mixture of green and gray, was thick as ever and smothered Oren like a blanket.

Queen Aria tightened her hood, and still, her face got wet from the soft droplets of rain on that cool evening. Her leather boots splashed in puddles no matter how careful she was to avoid them.

A troop of armed Tryan guards followed at her sides and behind as she walked the streets that were in danger of becoming flooded.

              The series of winding stone roads and alleyways were abandoned. The sun hadn’t shone in days.

Horrible deaths, mysterious illnesses, crime, starvation were all that seemed to fill Oren as of late. The cheery city was nothing more than a shell of its former glory.

News of a plague had drawn Aria from the palace. Against her advisor’s judgment, she wanted to see for herself. She was tired of reports. Aria needed to help her citizens, not sit in her comfy palace hoping someone else would do something.

If only she had someone there that could guide her. Her parents would have known what to do.

From their windows, Tryans watched her walk by, some brave enough to step out into the heavy rain to get a better look of their Queen.

Aria offered a reassuring smile, knowing that she was lost as to what she would actually do to keep the Orenians alive.

“Watch your step, my Queen,” one of the soldiers warned.

Aria paused. Her eyes went to the crack in the road. She’d discovered that many of the roads had been damaged by the quakes.

Cottages and shops had been toppled and even though Aria had teams of men sent out to repair those homes, the people were still on edge.

It was apparent that Oren was under attack.

It was just one that no one seemed to know how to fight.

When they reached the home of the latest infected family, she paused before the door. She looked back at her men, who she knew were fearful of contagion.

Sucking in a deep breath, Aria knocked on the door.

Inside, she heard someone run loudly down the stairs. The door was ripped open and before her stood a tall young man that looked to be in his late twenties. He wore a tattered, blood-soaked tunic and wool pants. Glossy, red-rimmed blue eyes looked at her. Even his Tryan glow was dimmed.

Oily, stringy black hair hung to his shoulders. From the smell of him, he hadn’t bathed in ages. Sweat beaded on his pale forehead, saturating his cheeks and neck as well.

Aria’s throat went dry as she began to speak. “Mr. Triston?”

Her eyes widened at seeing the blood that dripped from his hands. Aria was not a warrior monarch like her son would be; she had never seen a battle. The sight of blood turned her stomach.

              He wiped his hands on his already soiled tunic. “Aye, Queen Aria,” he replied, his voice quavering. “I ‘poligize for the mess.”

Aria swallowed hard when he lowered his face. She could see the tears trailing down his cheeks. It was obvious that he’d tried to hide them from her. 

Mr. Triston wiped his chin on his shoulder and turned towards the stairs. “This way.” He motioned for her to follow.

The darkness inside that door was intimidating, and Aria feared what she was about to walk into.

Aria looked back at her men once more. “Stay here,” she ordered. Despite standing in the rain, she could tell they were grateful for her orders.

Aria entered the small cottage. Her hand shot up to cover her nose and mouth when the putrid smell of decomposing flesh hit her. Her stomach churned, but she followed closely behind.

“My ma and pa died first,” he explained in a whisper. He glanced over his shoulder as he headed up the old staircase. “My wife died this morning.”

The old floorboards groaned beneath their weight. “I haven’t had a chance to clean out her room yet. I’ve been too busy caring for the girls.”

She followed him up to a narrow hallway. There were two doors, and he went straight to the one on the right. Light shone from the uneven doorframe.

The door creaked open. The horror Aria witnessed cut straight to her heart, nearly crippling her.

Hot tears stung Aria’s eyes as she looked in to see two little girls laying in a bed that was low to the floor.

Holy Elahe. Help us.

The two little ones laid there with their eyes closed. Blood stained their pale white cheeks and the corners of their dry, crusted mouths. The smell was repugnant, but the sight was heart wrenching.

“Carrie,” he called, and the girl on the left stirred. “Suessa,” he added, and they both opened their eyes and tried to sit up.

Such a task was taken for granted as Aria realized that the two girl’s eyes were sealed shut, blood seeping from their tear ducts.

“Oh my,” Aria croaked, covering her mouth. The line in her forehead deepened. “What has happened to them?”

He shook his head. “Same as the other folk that died last week. Something’s got a hold of my entire family. I’m shocked that I’m still able to care for them,” he paused, his voice growing hoarse. “Something’s killing my babies, Queen Aria. It isn’t right for a man to bury his entire family. To bury his children who haven’t had a life of their own yet.”

“Who’s that with you, Papa?” Carrie asked. Her bloody eyes tried to see. “Is it really the Queen?”

“Yes, girls. The Queen has come all the way from the palace to see you two.”

“Oh, Papa!” Suessa squealed before going into a fit of coughing that shook her entire body. He knelt down at her bedside with a cup of water from the side table. She wheezed and tried to catch her breath.

Mr. Triston put the cup to her mouth, and she took a tiny sip. When the coughing fit finally ceased, she tried to speak again. He wiped her mouth with a dirty rag. “Is she wearing a pretty dress?”

“Yes, Suessa.”

“With gold trim? Like at the fair?” Carrie asked.

Suessa’s bloodshot eyes sparkled. “And shiny gold shoes?”

Mr. Triston looked at Aria in her muddy leather boots and plain black cloak. “Yes,” he answered, his tearful eyes not leaving Aria’s. “She is wearing a gold gown and gold shoes for you girls.”

“Oh, Papa,” Carrie smiled. She tried to wipe her eyes with her sleeve. “Can we play with her?”

“Please. Please. We feel all better.” Suessa went into another coughing fit. She nearly choked on the red phlegm that splattered onto the dull gray quilt.

Aria’s jaw hung. Her eyes widened in horror.

Enough.

Her heart broke at seeing those girls in that state. She ran down the stairs and out of the house as though something chased her. She was grateful for the rain that poured once more. It washed away her tears as she faced her men.

“Send for the palace physician, a healing fairy, and an herbalist.”

Aria balled up her fist, her eyes fixed on the desolate city street before her.

“Send for them all.”

THE SOUND OF SOLDIERS
woke Jaiza. Her eyes opened to the jungle canopy. It was dawn, and traces of sunlight beamed through a ceiling of thick leaves.

Jaiza’s senses were heightened, so much so that the sound of the soldier’s boots broke her from her slumber. Her body tensed, the blood draining from her face.

How close are they?

She activated her Accuracy—a trait common to humans, but useful in situations such as this. Usually, Accuracy was used for making precise shots with her bow and arrows, but it had its other uses.

The trees became a blur, as her sight extended far ahead. Tall soldiers, clad in Avia’Torenan armor of gold and bronze, patrolled the wide merchant road a few yards away from where she and Risa slept.

Jaiza gave Risa a gentle push.

“What?” Risa yawned and opened one eye to peak at Jaiza’s face. “It can’t be time to wake up yet.”

The soldiers stopped near the sign stuck in the ground to have a drink.

Turning her gaze to Risa, Jaiza’s brows furrowed.

“Soldiers,” Jaiza whispered. “I can see them with my Accuracy.”

Risa shot up from her spot on a bed of leaves, holding her breath. Her eyes widened.

“Calm down. They aren’t that close, but close enough to make me uncomfortable. We better get moving.”

“How many?”

“Eight.”

Risa let out a long breath and laid back down as if eight soldiers wasn’t much of a threat. “Maybe we should wait until they are farther away,” Risa suggested with a half shrug of her shoulder. “I was dreaming of Mother’s winter porridge. You know, the kind with chopped pork.”

“No,” Jaiza said, her eyes glazed over as she used more energy to focus on the soldiers. “I want to keep to the Parthan River and put more distance between the soldiers and us. If we are quiet, we can avoid detection.”

“Couldn’t we just sleep for a bit? That would
also
avoid detection,” Risa said as she picked long blades of grass out of her braided blonde hair.

“What if one of them decides to come into the forest to relieve himself?”

Sighing, Risa nodded. “Fine.”

Risa pushed herself up to her feet and started gathering their scant supplies.

The rushing waters of the Parthan River returned as Jaiza deactivated her Accuracy.

“I’m tired of running.”

“I am too,” Jaiza said as she stretched her arms. “But we can’t stop until we get there. I promise we can rest then.”

“But we’ve been running all of our lives.”

Jaiza noted the sound of fatigue in her sister’s voice. “We can’t afford to stop now. Lilae needs us, and we need her.”

“I know. But, what if Lilae is dead?”

“Don’t you
ever
say that again,” Jaiza said through clenched teeth.

Risa waved her hands. “I’m just saying. What if she’s gone?”

“She’s not.”

“I’m sorry,” Risa said, sucking her teeth. “I’m just tired. I’m hungry. My feet hurt. This stab wound still itches.”

Risa scratched her belly through her clothes. The wound had healed, but Jaiza told her it was just in her mind, reminding her of her one moment of weakness. They shouldn’t have been taken that day in Lowen’s Edge.

They should have protected Lilae.

“Haven’t you learned anything? I’ll never complain again as long as I am free.”

Risa wrapped her arms around Jaiza. “You’re right. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re scared.”

“I am. I don’t like feeling like this. I just miss Mother, Father, Lilae, and even Delia.”

“I’m scared too. But we are strong. We can do this.” Jaiza stroked Risa’s cheek as they pulled free from their embrace. “You better not let that tear slip.”

Risa bit her lip and sucked in a breath. She shook her head as if shaking off the sadness.

“Are you kidding?” Risa forced a smile. “Risa, daughter of Pirin, does not cry.”

Jaiza searched her wet eyes and nodded. “Good girl.” She picked up the stolen sword, missing her bow and arrows. They were lucky that their father, Pirin, taught them to fight with more than just their weapon of choice.

“Let’s go. We’re close to the Goblin City. I just know it.”

Risa nodded and pulled her pack on. They began their trek along the side of the river when a piercing scream filled the jungle.

Jaiza put a hand on Risa’s, stopping her. Her blood ran cold.

A woman in trouble.

Risa’s eyes met hers. “It’s not our business—” She started to shake her head when the scream came again.

Terrified.

Desperate.

Jaiza closed her eyes, sighing. She couldn’t turn her back on women in need. She rubbed her temples and took in a deep breath. As she opened her eyes a thought came to her.

What would Lilae do?

They both knew the answer and drew their swords.