The Ruens of Fairstone (Aeon of Light Book 2) (35 page)

Deet turns around and faces Miles as he continues to walk backward. “It doesn’t look great, Lord Marlow, but it doesn’t look nearly as bad as you imagine. Out of place at first, yes, but after a few seconds, it’s hardly noticeable. Now both of you, pay attention and the same rules apply as yesterday, no talking unless necessary.”

Pard leans into Miles and whispers, “But anyway, Cray and Hawke last night, that was still cool, eh?”

Miles forces a smile. “Cool, I guess, and cool to still be alive I’d say.”

“What about the tikba? You heard them; one may live around here in this forest. Maybe we’ll come across it if we’re lucky.”

“Those two don’t have a clue,” Miles says. “Sounds like they’re on a wild Fae hunt. Took them over a year for the so-called famous hunter to come across just one tikba. If that’s the case, I doubt we’ll ever see one in our lifetimes and especially in this forest. And if we do by the slimmest of chances come across one, it sounds like it will kill us before we can even rejoice in our luck. So I’d rather not see any tikba, and definitely not this tena tikba with fangs and the strength of four men.”

“
Ahem
!” Deet says, glaring at them, standing with hands on hips.

Pard innocently looks into the pines and scoots away from Miles. They both go silent and focus on the forest ahead and not on Deet.
 

A light snow falls as they enter the thick evergreens. A billow of black smoke rises in the air from a chugging train over a mile away. An hour passes, and they finally reach the tracks. More hours pass as they trudge their way north through the thick snow-covered path. The day is closing to an end, and the sun is setting.

“We need to find shelter,” Deet says.

“Where’s the closest town?” Miles says.

Deet looks at Miles as if he’s crazy. “After last night’s entertainment you still think it’s safe for us to go into a town and seek an inn?”

“It’s freaking cold out here. We’ll freeze to death. Besides, the entertainment didn’t include us getting captured or killed, so I think we made out all right all things considered.”

Deet glances down the train tracks through the long open alley of cleared pines, his deep exhale blows a misty cloud in front of his face and small frozen clumps of snow and ice lodged in his beard jiggle.

Pard stomps his numb feet to keep the blood flowing. “I’m down for another night at an inn.”

Deet sighs. “Pampered and spoiled, the both of you. Preta never complained like the both of you through the hardship.”

“Who’s Preta?” Pard says.

Deet ignores him and pulls out his map. He scans the surface with his finger then the surrounding features of the landscape with his gaze. He points at a small jagged mountain off to the right and then points on the map, dragging his finger and inch to the left. “We would have a two hour walk west through the forest to reach the next closest inn in Larin Town.”

Miles wiggles his body and his teeth chatter. He pulls down his scarf exposing his purple lips. “Well, let’s get moving, it’s not getting any brighter—or warmer.”

Pard crosses his arms and sticks his hands under his armpits. “I agree with Miles.”

Deet continues to scan the forest.

“
Well
,
are we
going?” Miles says, stomping up and down.

Deet folds his map and stuffs it into his coat. He flicks his head to the left toward the forest and sweeps a heavy snow-laden bough to the side and steps into the evergreens.

Miles rolls his eyes. “Thank goodness, so dramatic him.”

“Hey, Deet,” Pard says, “who is Preta, is she a tough warrior?”

“Never mind who she is—stay quiet.”

“You’re the one that mentioned her and made a slight at Miles and me, and now you aren’t even going to tell us who she is?”

“She’s my younger sister. Now no more talking.”

“So where is she? How old is she?”

“Didn’t I say no more talking?”

“Look, we’ve been quiet all day and my face muscles need to move or I think I’ll never be able to talk again they’re so stiff and numb. Besides, you really think Alexa and the others are in this forest in this cold and wading through the deep snow looking for us?”

“No, they’re probably waiting in the next town at a warm inn and drinking ale and eating stew waiting for two kids to show up, one of them being a rich lord, and the other one only knows his way around a library, both of whom haven’t experienced a day of hardship in their life.”

“Right, so then we can talk since they aren’t in the forest with us.”

Deet snorts.

“Are you going to tell us or what?” Miles says. “We’re trusting you and following you around and we don’t even know who you are except you’re an Iinian Army deserter.”

“You two wouldn’t last two days out on your own.”

“Oh, I think we could, I think you underestimate us.”

Deet chuckles. “Do you, Lord Star?”

Miles lowers his head and he frowns.

Pard shoves Deet in the back. “Hey, what the hell’s wrong with you?”

Deet stops.

“Can’t you tell that that bothers him? And now you insult him on purpose. Maybe we are better off on our own without you. I think tomorrow Miles and me will go our separate ways from you.”

Deet takes a deep breath and looks up through the evergreen canopy to the white sky. A stream of mist billows out of his mouth as if blowing out a thick cloud of smoke from a pipe.

Pard puckers his lips in anger and turns toward Miles and sets his hand on Miles’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to him. He’s a jerk and doesn’t care about anything but himself. We’ll be fine on our own.”

Deet turns around and faces the boys. “Preta, my sister, is a seeros like you, kid.”

Pard, expecting to hear anything but that, his face goes blank as he processes what Deet just said.
 

Miles furrows his brow, and confused, looks at Pard and then Deet.
 

“It’s true,” Deet says, slowly nodding.

“She’s like me?”

“Yes, and she’s more than just a seeros like you, she is your sister.”

Pard’s and Miles’s jaws both drop at the same time.

“Yeah, hearing that usually has that effect.”

Miles points from Deet to Pard. “So you’re Pard’s long lost brother or something?”

Deet chuckles.

“No way,” Pard says, “that’s impossible.”

“I’m guessing you know nothing about what you are, kid, you and your seeros light thing.”

Pard shakes his head. “Not really.”

“Well, here’s the quick and dirty. At least from what I heard or put together. A wonky light that leaves a set of six children on their eighteenth birthday chose you. This light comes together and forms one, then again breaks apart into six equal pieces in a cycle every eighteen years. Which once it’s inside of the child all kinds of strange things happen in your body after the age of thirteen. This light makes you do and be able to do all kinds of crazy things, like talk to animals, uncontrollably electrocute cats, and cast spells, though the spells part needs to be taught by someone who knows what the hell they’re doing, like an older adult seeros. The light that broke into six pieces, it entered five other kids other than yourself, and you have a special bond, and they’re called your seeros brothers and sisters. My sister is also your seeros sister.”

“How do you know all of this?”
 

“Because similar individuals like Alexa and Eeva, also from the Acue, came to Brenton.”
 

“Waighton,” Pard says, “Preta is who they were after when they destroyed the town.”

“Yes, but at first they were hunting a seeros boy named Glynn and almost captured him, but instead, they killed him and his light left his body and entered my sister upon his death. Then they tried to apprehend her, and in the process they killed and destroyed everything I know and care about. We, like you are now, were on the run from the Acue, but everything went wrong when we got separated and the Dregs captured me. And now I’m in Bastin with you, and she is—” Deet lowers his head and shakes it. “I have no idea. She may still be on Brenton, or in Iinia, or worse. Anyway, I came across a map on a dead Acue last year with yours and Glynn’s name on it—and you both are the same age. Anyway, you also have an aqua-blue light like my sister. If you noticed, Alexa’s light was orange, and I also saw another seeros with a purple light. And I do care, kid, I just want to get home and find my sister to protect her, but I guess protecting you for the time being will have to do. Which is why I’m hard on the both of you, because I don’t want to repeat the bad things and mistakes I already went through with Preta. If we aren’t careful, they will find us.”

“Sorry,” Pard says, “that you don’t know where she is, or if she’s alive.”

“Me too,” Miles says through his chattering teeth. He gives Deet a hopeful smile. “So to the town and an inn?”

Deet steps off the path and enters the trees. “And Lord Marlow, the face doesn’t look that bad.”

ESEN’ER

Pard slows his pace and stares at his boots as they crunch through the snow.
Deet’s sister is like me, a seeros.
He glances up at Deet as he continues to make a path through the thick pine boughs, and Pard feels a newfound fondness and connection to him. Pard is no longer alone with the light growing inside of him—Deet understands this and will accept him.
Maybe I can help him find Preta and meet her someday.
Pard smiles.

Deet jerks to a stop and crouches behind the base of a wide evergreen and motions for Pard and Miles to do the same.

Pard stoops over, pressing his side against the rough bark. He pokes his head out from behind to glimpse what Deet is looking at.

“What is it?” Miles whispers.

Deet waves his hand. “
Shhh—
”

Miles glances at Pard. “What’s gotten into him?”

Pard shrugs.

“Both of you, stay here,” Deet says, “stay quiet and stay hidden. I’m going up ahead to check it out.” Deet stands and creeps forward while bent over. He draws his pistol and holds it out in front of him.

Pard scurries up to where Deet initially stopped, and Miles crawls next to him.

“What do you see?” Miles says.

Pard squints, and a small circular clearing is ahead in the pines. The dim glow of a fire pierces through the trees, and a thin streak of white and yellow smoke snakes into the air. “Looks like a camp.”

“Who the hell would camp out here in this cold?” Miles says. “That’s crazy.”

“I don’t know.”

Miles draws his dagger with shaky hand, from the cold or from fear, Pard can’t tell the difference. “Should we wait here? What if Deet needs help?”

Pard scans the ground and eyes a thick, knotty stick. He rips off his mittens, stuffs them into his pocket, and snatches the stick tight. Then he looks at Miles, telling Miles the answer to his question without words.

Miles moves forward through the trees and toward the camp.

Pard follows close behind.

“Ah!” Deet yells. “Oh, shit!”

Pard and Miles both flinch at the same time and give each other a quick questioning stare to determine what the other is thinking. They both clinch their teeth tight, and their faces transform into a ferocious scowl. They spring forward, yelling and screaming and waving in full on attack.

Pard swings his stick wildly and a pine bough grabs the tip. Not letting go, and his feet locked in the deep snow, Pard’s body whirls around in a half-circle. The stick rips out of his hand, and he tumbles to the ground and his body rolls three revolutions until he comes to a stop, falling into a tree well. He grimaces and groans.
Get up!

Miles, dagger raised above his head and mind fixed on his barbarous, raging charge, doesn’t notice Pard fall, and he continues running forward at full speed, ready to slash anything or anyone that comes across his path.

Pard scrambles out of the deep snow hole and gets to his feet. He shakes his head with a quick snap to get back in the moment. He wipes the snow off his face and spits out the fuzz of his mitten.

“Ah—!” Miles yells, but this yell differs from his ferocious battle cry. This yell is that of surprise and fear totally overtaking one’s mind and senses with the only thing that matters is one’s own survival.

Pard grips his stick and springs forward and races toward the clearing. The fire draws closer, and a faint cloud of smoke lingers over the campsite. He skids to a stop and his mouth drops and his eyes widen.
Tikba.
In front of him, right before his eyes, a creature at least seven feet tall, head transforming from a man to a creature something resembling half-man and half-horse. Two deep scars cross and extend over its right eye down to mid-cheek. The left eye solid black, its right eye is solid white with a blueish tint. Spiked fangs grow and poke out of its mouth as it flings off its charcoal wool sweater before it bursts to shreds from its massive expanding chest. The tikba’s bare back is wide and imposing. He turns his front away from Pard and faces Miles and Deet, who slowly back away. Bulging striated muscles grow even larger, covered by short brown hairs. The creature wears baggy light-brownish wool pants and black boots.

Deet raises his pistol, and the Tikba leaps ten-feet in the air, rips a thick pine branch off a tree and whips it straight at Deet.

Deet’s eyes widen, and he dives to the right as the branch slams into his arm and shoulder. He groans and drops the pistol. The deep snow swallows the revolver whole and its mouth collapses in a fluff of white.

Miles stands frozen with the dagger held out in front of him, staring at it and chanting, “Rifle, rifle, rifle,” as if wishing one would magically appear in his hands, the same as Hawke had warned.

The tikba’s boots crash back to the ground in an explosion of snow. He huffs and puffs out two long streams of steam. Then snot shoots out of its nose. He sticks out his head and arches his back ready to charge Miles. His thick mane bristles, and in the center, three golden spikes stick out amongst the brown.

Pard, now himself overtaken with fear, but his fear is a different kind of fear, his fear is that of losing his only two friends he ever had, and he ignores what the menacing tikba may do to him and charges forward waving his stick.