Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) (41 page)

Ancel retched, breaking off from the memory. Struggling to his feet was an agony-filled exercise, his body feeling as battered as if he trained nonstop for an entire day. Step by painful step, he teetered to where his friends huddled with their backs against Randane’s granite wall where it curved away into a long expanse with towers dotting its length. If their appearance was any judge, they all resembled disheveled beggars. At least the river had taken care of most of their smell. And, blessedly, they were alive.

Ancel looked toward the water pouring from the tunnel into the river below. Each splash of anything large enough to be a small person brought hope. Not one turned out to be Kachien. With every disappointment he sunk further into himself.

Mirza was the first to speak up, his voice cracked and hoarse. “So what do we do now?”

“Find this boat of hers and cross the river,” Danvir said, his white-blond hair plastered to his cheeks much like Ancel’s dark layers felt.

Seeing his bear-sized friend hug himself and rub his arms made Ancel even more aware of the chill. Another too cold summer day. Ancel surveyed the land around them. “I doubt it’ll be that easy,” he said.

The bloated waters of the Kelvore River carried on for miles before dwindling around a curve. Stunted trees, marsh reeds, humps, and hills provided more than adequate hiding places. Besides the threat from flooding, there was also the threat of discovery.

“I’d say go to the ferry, but that area’s sure to be watched,” Mirza added. Red bled into his shirt from his hair—an oozing head wound that caused Ancel’s heart to skip before he realized it was the dye.

“Of course, it is watched.”

Ancel’s heart leaped at Kachien’s quiet voice. Danvir and Mirza started while Charra whined.

Soaked to the bone, she threaded along what was left of a thin embankment of rock and sediment as if the slippery formation was the most stable surface in the world. Her long, golden hair hung in wet strands about her face, and her dark breeches and shirt clung to her body. Rents in the fabric revealed her tan skin. Not even her tattered cloak could dispel her serenity or her beauty.

“You three are lucky there are no guards in the tower above you. If there were, the entire regiment would be here with the noise you have made.”

Ancel snapped his mouth shut. He made an effort not to glance up at the tower. Hopefully, if his features were as dirty as his two friends, the muck hid his blush.

With a dainty leap, Kachien flew over a break in the rock, landed on the riverbank, and joined them. “The boat is hidden along the wall there under those reeds.”

Resisting the urge to touch Kachien, Ancel followed her gaze to the plants and trees in question. They looked as normal as any other, if a bit more disheveled from the weather. “What happened in the tunnel?”

Kachien shrugged. “I used the Forms to destroy the walls and build another path for the water and the rats to follow.”

“You’re an Ashishin?” Mirza and Danvir blurted all at once before covering their mouths.

“Keep your voice down!” Kachien warned. “No, I’m no Ashishin.” She looked away from the recognition on Ancel’s face.

Ancel remained quiet. Now he knew why she’d avoided his question about if she could touch Mater. He also understood her fear for him. Her emotions were written plainly in her eyes. She lacked the control. That’s why she had to kill when she helped them escape. She was a Deathbringer. What she must have suffered tore at him while at the same time the horrific things he imagined she did gave him pause.

“You sure that didn’t let them know where we were?” A slight doubt creeping through his insides, Ancel placed himself between Charra and Kachien.

Kachien didn’t hide her pained expression. “Maybe. But it was the only way for us to escape. We will not be here when and if they do come.” She walked a wide arc around Charra and headed to the hiding place she mentioned.

“What’s with you three?” Mirza glanced from Kachien to Charra to Ancel.

“Nothing.” The secret was hers to reveal. Her hurt look at his wariness bothered him. If she lacked the control to decide who to kill she would have murdered them long ago. Besides, why would Teacher Galiana trust someone who was this unstable? Exhaling deeply, Ancel tried to shake his uneasiness. “Let’s go.”

They followed Kachien, staying close to the wall. Rain beat down on them, and the constant grumbling of thunder and the dark clouds skittering across the sky showed no signs of letting up. Although Ancel was sure it must be afternoon by the now, the dim light made the time of day seem more like evening.

Kachien wasted no time in sloshing through mud and water pooled near the reeds and small trees. Without waiting for help, she began to drag the well-crafted covering of branches and leaves away. Soon, a small rowboat not big enough to carry all five of them became exposed.

“The guards should still be occupied trying to capture what I left them. But to be safe, when we lift the boat to the river, stay close to the wall. We will follow the tide. When we are hidden from view of the city’s towers, then we will cross.”

“What about Charra?” Ancel asked.

“He will swim.”

Charra was a strong swimmer, but he hated water. Convincing the daggerpaw could become an issue, but Ancel could see no other solution.

“There’s one small problem,” Mirza said as they bent to pick up the boat. “How do we get across against the current?”

The Kelvore River, usually three quarters of a mile across, had swollen to almost twice that size. Muddy brown water swirled around hidden rocks before rushing off farther south. The roar of the rushing river was only drowned out when thunder pealed. With the current’s ferocity, crossing would be near impossible.

“Let me worry about that,” Kachien said reassuringly. “There are three paddles in the reeds. You will help keep us straight, but I will do most of the work.”

None of them bothered to ask how. They already knew. Instead, they concentrated on their footing across the muddied ground.

“What about the cost?” Ancel said from his position at the hull.

Danvir had the middle, supporting the majority of the weight on his beefy shoulders.

“You have nothing to worry about there. I can maintain until an opportunity comes.” The brief closing of her eyes and her reluctant tone said Kachien didn’t relish the thought.

“What cost? What’re you two talking about?” Mirza said, his voice strained and taut.

“You can tell them.” Resignation inched into Kachien’s tone. “They deserve to know.”

As they set down the boat where they’d sat moments before, Ancel told them about what Kachien’s people, the Alzari, believed, and how they handled those who could touch Mater but lacked control. His two friends gave her wary looks and tried not to be obvious about the space they kept between her and them.

“Are you safe to be around?” Mirza finally managed.

“Safe enough. I decide who needs to die to appease the essences. Here in Granadia, there are more than enough enemies. I will not be driven to madness and harm you.”

Mirza and Danvir’s worried expressions smoothed. Danvir went off to get the three wooden paddles as Ancel, Mirza and Kachien eased the rowboat into the river. Kachien held a tether in one hand.

“Ancel,” Danvir began when he returned, and they climbed in one by one. “I know he’s strong, but can Charra swim against this current?”

“Make sure he stays close,” Kachien said before Ancel offered a reply. “If he does, he should be fine.”

They all looked at each other but said nothing. Kachien leaped into the boat last. From the riverbank, Charra growled.

“Follow,” Ancel commanded.

Charra whined and leaped after them as they pushed off from the shore. He landed with a splash and paddled beside the craft.

They kept as close to the bulwark as they dared. Danvir sat in the middle as the counterweight to Ancel and Mirza at the ends. Kachien took up a position near Mirza, her eyes focused ahead. The first few hundred feet went smoothly. When they reached the sewer exit, they worked hard to stay as close to the city’s walls as they dared. The sewage roared out as they passed, and the swirling currents from its collision with the river careened the boat, sending the bow high in the air before the vessel crashed back down, and the stern lifted from the water.

Ancel frantically switched his paddle from side to side in order to help prevent the craft from capsizing. He considered shouting to help them work in concert, but not only would that prove fruitless with the water roaring around them, there was the risk of alerting a guard. He struggled on, the pain in his arms and legs a dull throb. When at last they passed the danger, he blew out a deep breath. Allowing his shoulders to sag never felt so good.

His relaxation was short lived as the speed at which they traveled increased. They were pitched to and from the stone edifice without mercy. Keeping the boat on course became more difficult than he could have imagined, and he resorted to shorter strokes as the waters conspired to slam them into the stone. Luckily, the city’s bulwarks shielded them from the wind that howled as if possessed by some wraithlike creature, venting its rage at the fact they didn’t have to deal with its swirling eddies and the treacherous waters at the same time.

Occasional spray and the rain tempted Ancel to wipe his eyes. He resisted. Instead, he focused on the task at hand and his friends in front. The muscles on Danvir’s back and arms threatened to burst through his dirty silk shirt. Ancel’s shoulders, back, and legs burned even more than before. Mirza’s red head bobbed this way and that as he worked. Kachien simply watched.

Foot by foot, their speed grew until they hurtled by stone and debris alike. Charra somehow managed to keep up with them. At any moment, Ancel expected the river’s fury to smash and break them against the wall. But as if by Ilumni’s good grace, they avoided their demise, often only by inches. Ancel managed a glimpse of Kachien. Her forehead was furrowed in concentration and her eyes narrowed. He was certain whatever she did had to do with Materforging.

His arms feeling as if they would fall off at any moment, Ancel battled on. Legs wooden, breathing ragged, back aching, and hands raw from the constant fight with the paddle, he lost track of time. The only things that existed was their craft tipping toward the wall, his strokes to push it away, then his work on the opposite side so they wouldn’t be swept out into the middle of the river.

Without warning, they passed the bulwark. Moments later, the river flung them around a sharp bend. Icy wind whipped into them like frozen daggers. The front of the boat turned and it keeled to one side. At the dizzying speed they traveled, the craft twisted the opposite direction, toward the foaming violence at the river’s center, yawing listlessly. There was no way to stop the movement. They were going to flip over.

We’re going to die here.

Just as abruptly as the wind began, it stopped. The boat lurched upright.

“You no longer…need to…paddle,” Kachien said, an edge to her voice as if she’d fought a great battle.

Ancel hissed at the sight of her haggard, pale face. He wanted to reach out to her and stroke away the wild strands of hair from her cheeks, but his arms were too heavy to lift and his legs too numb to move.

Then, the impossible happened.

The craft veered out into the river. And was not swept away. It sped along as if the day was a calm, sunny one, and they were out on a leisurely boat ride. The oncoming water never struck them with more than a gentle lap. They cut across the river’s heart like a sharp blade through silk.

Ancel stared, his mouth open. Danvir plopped down into a sitting position. Mirza cackled, his head thrown to the sky.

And somehow, next to them swam Charra, his golden eyes focused on Kachien.

Ancel looked back behind them. A fog had risen along the riverbank they just left. The gray, cloying mist spread down the entire length of the city and up, obscuring the wall and its many towers. Faded orange light marked where torches dotted Randane’s fortifications. Ancel almost whooped.

A ragged gasp came from Kachien. Her face had grown even paler. Her chest heaved the same as when a farmer stuck a pig and allowed its blood to drain until the animal died. Spittle bubbling at her lips, sweat pouring down her face at such a rate not even the constant deluge of rain could hide it, she stared straight ahead, her body rigid. Her breaths came harder and faster.

Ancel pined to go to her, but if he moved, he would upset the boat’s current balance. He forced himself to hold his position and watched, his hands clenched, his eyes moist, and his heart feeling as if someone stabbed him.

The boat struck the far bank. Kachien flopped to one knee in a boneless heap.

Ancel tried to yell, but the words he uttered were a dull croak. “Help her.”

CHAPTER 33

Early the next morning, Ryne and Sakari emerged from the Sang Reaches and entered Astoca. They crossed the wide Tantua River, which meandered through the Mondros Forest miles to the east, before it split into several smaller tributaries forming the Sinking Swamps and the Great Rainbow Lakes to their immediate south. Skiffs, fishing boats, sleek river dancers, bulky ferries, and the occasional warsailer traversed the Tantua’s murky waters. Most headed in the direction of Castere. Ryne skirted the swamps, and they soon arrived at the citadel built between the Rainbow Lakes.