Belvedor and the Four Corners (Belvedor Saga Book 1) (16 page)

As she navigated through the surroundings, she came to a long fence and ducked down. The gate swung back and forth, creaking in the wind. A sign hung loose, reading
‘
The Field
’
.

As she peered down from her hilly perch, her shoulders slumped. The Healer’s District loomed below, washed in dim lantern lighting. Her lips curled at the replica of her own home. Arianna saw the same barracks gathered in bland rows in the distance and other familiar-looking buildings scattered here and there.

The Field and the pattern the buildings laid in made the only discernible difference between the two districts. In the Warrior’s District the roads coiled into themselves, all connected in some way. Here, the roads zigzagged and twisted in abstract designs. Nevertheless, the Blancoren Mountains formed a wide fence around the city, just the same.

She scanned the road, searching for any sign of the regulators but saw no one.
Maybe they already finished the headcount
. Curfew long since passed by now, so Arianna started down the single pathway from the Field to the city, no turning back now.

Drawing her cloak tight around her body like a cocoon, she swathed every inch of skin, trying to hide beneath the cloth. The buildings gave her no cover whatsoever, so she hurried through the open streets. Her crimson robes stood out dangerously against the new fallen snow, and she felt like a walking display of treason.

After what seemed like ages, a tall, meek building appeared in front of her—the Dining Hall. Swallowing her disgust, she ducked into the shadows of its walls. They presented the perfect cover for her to calculate her next move.

Arianna mapped the streets with her eyes, committing them to memory. Moments later, she heard a rumble of voices and every muscle in her body froze at the sound. The light of a lantern bounced towards her, threatening to chase away her shadows, as the voices grew more distinct.

“I’m telling you, Rod, I saw something just there. Look for tracks.” the grumbling voice said in a panic.

She heard a loud thump as faces came into view. “Those are our tracks ya idiot!” a regulator screamed. 

“Sorry, Rod. It’s just… you heard the general. And did you see Gavin’s bloody mess? His body was completely shredded,” he said in a low voice, scratching at his sore head.

“That I did,” said Rod firmly. “I still can’t believe the wolves got to him.” Arianna watched as he lowered his head, shaggy black hair covering his face.

“He was a good man,” said the other.

“Don’t worry. We’ll catch the wolf that did it,” growled Rod. Their voices grew fainter.

Once Arianna felt sure the regulators had gone from earshot, she peered around the corner. Seeing their sleek, black robes disappear into the night did nothing for the butterflies floating in her stomach.

Gathering her thoughts, she chose a path the exact opposite of the direction of the regulators. A couple of minutes later, more buildings stretched alongside her. Faint lights shone through glassed windows and brick lined the street. The constructions here looked grand, not meant for quartering the slaves, and a street-sign read ‘Supremes’ Way’ in gold lettering.
This must be where the elders live.

In her district, the roads created a pattern so that a slave never need pass near the elders’ homes. Unless bidden by an elder, a slave caught there would suffer punishment. Solomon escorted Arianna to his home once or twice during her younger years, and she remembered the splendor well. This street enjoyed the same grandeur that she had glimpsed in her past.

The homes gave a more gentle impression than the ones in her district, the roofs clinging to pastel walls like the rounded tip of a mushroom. Lavished with soft colored bricks of yellow, the homes had a welcoming appearance. The untouched snow at the wooden doorsteps and the steam billowing from the bricked chimneys gave a homey sensation that Arianna had felt little in her life.

She moved carefully, stopping only in the shadows as she wandered up the street. With no instated curfew, elders and regulators could leave their house as they please. She listened for voices as she tiptoed, trying to hinder the crinkling sound of the compacted snow under her boots, her mind whispering silent prayers as she walked. Squinting her eyes to see better, she saw silver-plated names on each door of at least fifty houses.

Wismere Theiss
. She studied the first name she laid eyes upon. No lights shone through the windows in this house as she sauntered by. A shudder moved through her body, sending warning signals to her brain. She moved on hastily, not wanting to linger in this forbidden zone. She scanned more names as she passed onward, looking for another path to take in search for Lessa.
Atellis Otten
,
Lavaden Lark,
Talis Churry
,
Chrystyna Rowlings
… Arianna’s eyes blinked in hesitation and then snapped back to the name—
Talis Churry.

Of all of the fairytales Talis relayed to her, and the many times he visited her and Solomon since the accident, he never once told her where he lived. Then again, it never once occurred to Arianna to ask. He bombarded her with too much to handle, so it simply slipped her mind. Now she stood there at his doorstep, her interest stirred. She left her curiosity about Lessa momentarily subdued by the real-life story of Master Churry.

A lantern in his home flickered in the circle window she crouched beneath. Smoke poured from the chimney, mixing with the fast moving clouds in the sky. She knew she should move on and cling to the hopes of locating Lessa, but somehow she had this man to thank for her life.

The temptation of Talis Churry’s home overwhelmed her. She felt drawn, and her head craned upward towards the window as she peered through.

The house looked even bigger on the inside, and Arianna’s eyes grew wide as she spotted Talis. He sat in a round, leather chair with his legs perched up as he warmed by a fire. His presence gave a welcoming feeling in these unknown parts, and Arianna relaxed a little. She longed to make herself known as Talis had become a dear friend.

She shook her head.
Solomon would know I betrayed him
. She chewed on her lip, mulling over the decision.
No, it’s too risky.
She sighed, resigned to her decision. As she stared on, she realized he slept, even noting the faintest snore through the thick-paned glass. She noticed a cup of steaming tea had been placed on the table, and her face lifted in a smile at the familiar picture. She wanted to know more.

Slinking towards the back of the rounded building, sure enough, more large windows came into view. She placed her fingers on the sill and stood up. This dark room contained only a desk littered with parchments and books. A study maybe?

She moved towards a soft, flickering light in the middle window and froze at the sight. She could see the reflection of her shocked face in the glass-pane, watching as her chestnut eyes froze open. “Lessa? But it can’t be,” she muttered. She closed her eyes tight and shook her head, trying to rid her mind of the image.
Surely my imagination is playing tricks on me.
She peeked open an eye in slow hesitation, frightened by her mind’s own trickery. The image didn’t sway. There lay Lessa Thur.

Arianna smiled with caution. It seemed her snooping paid off, but something about the girl seemed odd. As Arianna observed the sleeping beauty, she noted Lessa’s slow breathing.
Too slow…
Her head rested on a white pillow, and a thick quilt patterned in swirling greens, blues, and purples wrapped around her body.

Almost as if someone possessed her body to do so, Arianna pulled the windowpane open by the handle. She slid inside, careful not to make a sound. The light of the lantern flickered from the onset of the wind, casting a dim light which bounded off the walls.

The room looked simple except for the duvet and some paintings which hung on the walls. Yet, Arianna considered the room much more glamorous than any she had ever set foot in. She moved further in, and her muddy boots stained the lavender rug on the floor. 

She gaped at the pictures on the wall. They resembled the secret beauty of her utopia, their utopia. A myriad of colors played in some, while others depicted monochrome abstracts. Arianna’s lips pursed in a hard line as her eyes settled on the outline of the Blancoren Mountains. The black and white oil painting represented her exact feelings when she looked upon the mountains… dismay. Still, she could not deny the image its dismal beauty.

As she circled the room, she discovered even more pictures piled in a neat stack on a desk. A large oval mirror hung just above it. Arianna studied the frame in decorated silver. Stealing a look at her reflection, her expression turned solemn, and she wiped the dirt from her face.
I don’t belong here.

She turned away from the mirror and began thumbing through the paintings on the desk. She stopped cold on her fifth finding. A smile grew on her face at the familiar image, her dagger.

The painting held just as much fascination as the tangible blade strapped to her thigh. She noticed a signature in the corner with the same curly writing as the one on her letter from Lessa.
An artist and a ghost, who would have thought?
She laughed, replacing the painting back among the others.

After she felt her curiosity satiated, she turned back to observe the sleeping slave. “What has happened to you?” she murmured. She moved around to the bedside.

Lessa slept motionless, but her eyelids moved slightly as if she dreamed. A light sweat covered her forehead, and her fingers twitched every so often. She didn’t look like she could be awakened, but Arianna tried her luck anyways.

“Lessa, can you hear me?” she whispered near her ear. She placed a hand on her arm and shook her with gentle urgency. Her skin felt cold beneath Arianna’s fingertips.

Lessa never stirred.

Arianna heard a noise from another room, and her eyes watched the door. Thinking it Talis, she decided to take leave. In haste, she searched the room for some plain parchment and ink. She found some on the messy desk and wrote a quick, sloppy letter:

Dear Miss Thur
—
Slave girl of Healer’s District,

I have received your invitation, and I do readily accept. In fact, I was so eager to meet you that I followed your footsteps. Thank you for leading the way. I see that at the moment you are quite indisposed. When you return from your subconscious, I’ll be waiting there on Sunday… in our secret paradise.

In hopes that you wake soon and remember who I am,

Arianna Belvedor

Slave girl of Warrior’s District

An excitement rushed through her as she folded the letter and placed it under her pillow. She decided her time well spent as she clambered back through the window.

She glanced back for one last look at the ghost girl, and a pair of fiery eyes met hers instead. Arianna screamed, panic prickling her emotions at the presence of another intruder inside the young healer’s bedroom. Her hands flailed, and she fell back into the plush snow, knocking the lantern down with her. The glass shattered and the light blew out, leaving her surrounded in darkness.

She heard pounding footsteps as Talis burst through the door of Lessa’s room. Shaking with shock, Arianna crawled towards the side of the house just as Talis stuck his head out of the window. “Must’ve been those damn wolves again,” he said, slamming the window shut.

Arianna didn’t dare look back as she pushed her muscles to run as fast as she could towards the Field. Her mind reeled with the sudden events.
Those eyes.
She worried for Lessa who lay helpless in bed with some strange monster lurking about her room. She hoped Talis could care for her but doubted the old, fragile man could fight off the invader.

In mere minutes, Arianna reached the secluded entrance to the Vanishing Tunnels. She broke through the vine roots and entered the safety of the underpass, leaving the Healer’s District behind. Still, she didn’t feel safe with those eyes lingering in her mind.
Those horrible, blazing eyes.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Lessa’s eyes flew open as something soft tickled her face. She groaned as her hand instinctively reached for her pounding head.

“Lessa, you’re finally awake!” said Talis, pulling his head from the window of her bedroom. He was at the bedside in an instant, examining her.

“What’s going on?” she asked in a slurred voice that sounded dry and unfamiliar.

“You fell from a rather large tree in the Field,” he said. A hint of anger laced his words, but he kept it at bay. “You’ve been out for about two weeks now. I was really worried.”

Lessa turned her charming gaze on him, and his expression softened. He placed a hand on her forehead for a moment. “You’re burning up. I’ve been giving you some medicines. How do you feel?” he asked, worried. His eyes searched hers for any hint of pain.