Chapter 13
Marley called upon Zeph to assist as he used one of his runestones to impel the wind’s aid. And although she voiced her dismay at his plan, reminding him of Ymarii’s summons, she complied. So, in a bone-jarring gust, they sped toward the camp to be deposited onto the bank of the stream.
“I think I like the Paths better,” Kestrel whispered, as she rolled into a crouch next to the vortryl.
Marley grunted and put a finger to his lips. Sounds of struggle broke the predawn quiet. He turned to the girl, gauging her willingness to take his orders.
Finally, he sighed and said, “Give me to the count of three hundred, then bring that bow of yours and that eye. But until then, attempt to call back your Yanzul.”
Kestrel frowned, her voice incredulous, “My what?”
Marley rolled his eyes, shaking his shaggy head. “Try to get the owl creature to help us again.” He quickly chanted a rune and disappeared, only to reappear at the treeline near the camp.
He hoped against hope that Kestrel’s impetuous actions and foolish bravery, along with her new ally, mitigated the Fate’s cast. Essence-fire loomed ahead, a single flame, bright and steady. Taking in the situation at a glance, Marley sensed the moments clawing at his back.
Jayf stood next to the wagon, bound in green shoots from topknot to toes with a fistful of leafy green shoved in his mouth and the dull gleam of silver about his neck. And within the clearing, Moira knelt.
Her shirt ripped at her shoulder and bodice, the cloth stained crimson from a bloody lip and gash on her cheek. A rope looped about her throat grew taut as an academy man pulled at the other end, tied to the bridle of his horse. Blood streaked the left half of the man’s face and the white cornea of a newly healed eye glared in wild, blind fury about the camp.
The runesmith felt the gasp, rather than heard it, and knew three hundred breaths had come and gone. Marley signaled for her to creep forward.
When close enough to whisper, she hissed, “Have a care, another lurks. That is the hound, Mason, holding the rope. But...” She shook her head, confusion drawing her brows together. “I just pierced his eye, yet it already bears a healing scar.”
Marley nodded. “On the count of three, shoot him. I will sever the rope at the same moment.”
He didn’t wait for a response and didn’t want her to have to think about what she had to do. “One… Two… Three.”
His fingers barely moved as he drew a simple rune and spoke a single word. The tether holding Moira crumbled and Kestrel’s arrow flew straight and true. But in that moment, before hitting Mason, it disappeared in a puff of white smoke.
Marley glanced up as the Yanzul swooped out of the sky. It risked injury to itself as it zigzagged through the trees. Its beak sundered the head of the second weaver, Chet, before he could scream. The owl creature then rose out of the woods with an eerie call to settle in the clearing by the creek.
Moira, now free, tried to roll away as Mason pulled back on the horse’s reins; his mount reared and came down with a solid thunk to her head. She crumbled, blood seeping through her hair to pool in the grass.
Mason wheeled his horse. He growled over his shoulder, “I’ll taste you yet, witch,” and whipping the animal into a gallop, rode off.
Kestrel fell to her knees, her keen of grief splitting the dawn. But another rune sped off Marley’s fingertips. He named it with a growl and a rainbow of sparks sizzled around him until they coalesced into a web of lightning. They both watched while Mason, now covered in the glittering maze of energy, wove through the trees.
“Will it kill him?” Kestrel asked, turning back to Marley, her face a mask of pain and disbelief.
“Essence-weaving can lead to death, but you cannot outright kill with it,” he said from Moira’s side, her head and shoulders cradled in his lap.
His voice shook as he chanted a rune of healing. Golden sparks made of his own deepest life essence coalesced about his fallen friend. But even as he cast, he knew her heart no longer beat. The rune dissipated into the air and as Kestrel came close, the tears that pooled in his eyes fled down his cheeks to hide in his beard.
Kestrel stared down at Marley, her mah cradled in his arms. She wanted to cry, no, to howl. She wondered if the runesmith could somehow stop time and make everything go backward… if they could do this night again.
“I need to take my mah back to the clans.” Her voice sounded small and lost to her in the predawn stillness.
Stonebender gave her a quick nod but said nothing until he gathered Moira in his arms and gently lifted her. “Please take down the backboard.” The sheen of grief glittered in his eyes.
A shiver shook the paralysis out of her muscles, and Kestrel realized she still stood where her mah fell. She rushed past Marley to the back of the wagon and, releasing the clasps, let the backboard fall.
While he was in the wagon, she looked about the camp for the first time since… since her life changed so irrevocably. Jayf stood away from the wagon. He wore the collar she saw Mason toss to Chet earlier. Kestrel wondered if they would find the key or if Marley could break the lock with his craft.
She wandered over to stand next to Jayf, her gaze following his to settle upon the Yanzul, resting in the grass. Marley soon joined them and the three stared out into the morning, each weighed down by the grievous night.
“She knew.” Kestrel blurted out when the silence became deafening, accusation tingeing her voice.
“Your mah was a dream-dancer. She lived on the edge of possibilities and probabilities.”
Kestrel’s eyes teared up and guilt prickled at her spirit as she wondered what if she had stayed at the camp? “You knew too.”
Stonebender grimaced and shrugged. “I did as she asked. Your mah gave her life to keep you and the clan safe.” He sighed, pulling his fingers through his beard. “I hoped I could stop them before they reached camp, but no matter which way the stones landed… the choices demanded consequence.”
“Will you help me get my mah body back to the clans?”
“If we take her back to the caravan in Four Corners, we will throw ourselves into Lord Norfall’s embrace once more. And there are at least four... no five, including Mason, so five academy men still about.”
“Then what will we do?” Her voice cracked with despair.
“We continue south. This track we follow forks before we have traveled the day. There is a secluded, you might say guarded, vale where the merchant road divides. It is a sacred place... for those in need. We will stop there and perform the rite of release for your mah.”
In the light of the night’s occurrences, the warmth of his hand on her shoulder gave her little solace. But she knew he was right. Although young, she shared in the clans’ belief that sacrifice was the highest gift. And to squander such a gift, a base sin.
Tears wet her cheeks, but alarm sharpened her voice as Kestrel turned to find the dragonkin gone. “Where’s Jayf?”
They searched out from the camp and found him back in the woods. He stood amidst twigs and leaves and broken branches, examining the remains of the weaver, Chet.
Kestrel backed away, and Marley suggested she tend the horses. But instead, she gritted her teeth and stepped up next to Jayf, determined to be there, this time, for her friend. The dragonkin looked up at her and Marley, his eyes so dark Kestrel couldn’t see the blue and green swirls, his voice not much more than a sorrowful moan.
“I couldn’t save her. I was just coming out of dragon sleep and he knocked me down and put this on me.” He tugged at the collar circling his neck. “I tried to go to the Paths, but my way was blocked, this… this collar is anathema to the Dragon Paths and as long as I wear it, so am I.”
Marley frowned. Wading into the brush, he pulled a small bag from the dead man’s belt. He emptied the contents into his hand. The key not there, he let the assorted coins and trinkets fall over the corpse and looked back at Jayf.
The dragonkin stared out at the Yanzul once again. “Do you think the creature somehow has it?”
Marley crinkled his brows and said, “Kestrel said the hound, Mason, gave him both collar and key. Perhaps, if he wore it around his neck on a chain… Or it might be with the head.”
Jayf’s glance swung between Kestrel and the Yanzul. “I shall try to mind-speak with the creature, although it was not receptive to my earlier overtures and I am sure it not only heard me but understood.” With a sharp nod at the two of them, he strode out into the clearing.
“Let’s get the horses hitched. The quicker we put distance between here and the road north, the better.” Marley said, motioning for Kestrel to follow.
It surprised them when Jayf returned after only a few moments. Although he still wore a look of sorrow, Kestrel felt an air of expectancy about him as he spoke.
“You were right about the owl creature. She allowed me to take the key where it lay twisted in hair and flesh. Although she wouldn’t speak to me, I had a deep impression that she wanted to communicate with Kestrel.”
With a deep, shuddering breath she looked over to where the Yanzul lay, the creature’s large golden eyes seemed to bore into her.
“I’m glad she helped, but… I am not ready for this. I can sense her presence. I called out to her in my thoughts, when Mason and Rollan captured us and she came. I can feel that she does not intend to harm me, but she… she wants more.” Kestrel opened her hands, her arms spread wide, not trying to stop the tears that slid down her face. “I am empty. I can’t speak with her today… not yet.”
“Slow down, child, no one here is going to make you talk to it.” Marley’s gaze swung from Kestrel back to the Yanzul.
“It is she,” Kestrel and Jayf said at the same time.
Marley stepped back with a quizzical glance at the two. “Jayf, if you will, stop by the water and rinse the grim from the key and let the creature know Kestrel’s decision. We’ll hitch up the horses and when you return, I’ll remove that abomination from your neck.
Jayf bowed slightly and with weary steps headed toward the Yanzul.