Forest of Ruin (13 page)

T
hey'd been on the road since the fiend dog attack. They'd set out that night, ridden all day, and then taken turns sleeping in the wagon the following night. Now it was day again, and Ronan wasn't happy.

“He said it was a day's ride,” Ronan grumbled. “We are on the second day.”

“I know.”

“He says we had to divert to avoid the towns, but he didn't add that to the estimate of time, did he?”

“I know.”

He looked over. “And you'd like me to stop complaining about it.”

“Not truly.” Ronan was only saying what Ashyn was thinking. Her grandfather was eager to get her to the dragons—it
was the culmination of a life's work and dreams. Was she surprised he'd misled them about the distance?

“I understand you wish to return to Jorn and Aidra as quickly as you can,” she said. “If you want to do so, I understand, as I always have.”

A flash of emotion. Then his face hardened. “My brother and sister will be fine for a little longer. You need me more than they do. But I'm hoping it'll be a brief delay.” He peered out at the landscape. “Our destination had better not be in the North.”

“It is a fortnight's ride to the North,” Ashyn said. “Edwyn would not expect to get us that far before we revolted. We seem to be heading toward the steppes.”

“Which border the North.”

Ashyn shook her head. “The steppes begin a four-day ride from the imperial city. We were already to the northwest and . . . And you do not wish a lesson in imperial geography.”

He shrugged. “I'm happy to listen if it will distract you from worrying about Moria.”

“I'm not—”

His look cut her short.

“I'm trying not to,” she said.

“I know. So if it helps to talk about anything else, I'm happy to listen, Ash.”

When she said nothing for the next hundred paces, he drew his horse up closer to hers and said, “I ought not to have mentioned Moria.”

“It doesn't matter. She's never far from my mind. Moria and Daigo and Tyrus and the children of Edgewood and
Fairview and . . .” She turned to look at him. “Am I doing the right thing, Ronan? They're back there. All of them. And I'm riding this way to do something I'm not even sure is possible, and I don't know if I'm doing it because I believe it's the best choice or because I feel useless otherwise. I want to find Moria, but Tyrus and Daigo are better equipped for that, and all I did was get Guin killed and nearly get you killed and—”

“You had
nothing
to do with Guin's death. If anyone could have handled that situation better, it was me. As for the arrow in my neck, I'm the one who told you to run, and if I had the chance to do it over, I'd still do the same, because clearly Dalain Okami was not the ally he claimed to be if he let his men try to kill me.”

“But am I doing the right thing, Ronan? Are
we
? I know you want to get back to your siblings, and I've not brought that up, no more than you've brought up Moria, but we're both thinking it, aren't we? That there's someplace else we need to be, and this path is taking us further from it.”

“I know.” He cast a grim glance back at the others.

“Do you fear they wouldn't let us leave?” she whispered.

“I could leave. But you are not simply the person Edwyn believes can awaken his dragons, Ash. You're his granddaughter. He's not about to let you run off with a thief.”

“He doesn't know—”

“I'm quite certain he realizes I'm no warrior. And a young man who can wield a blade but is not a warrior is a criminal. He knows what I am, and he's not pleased that I've planted myself at your side.”

He went quiet then, as if falling into his thoughts, and
after a moment, she ventured, “If you think he realizes you are casteless, I cannot see how that would matter. He's not from the empire. The North historically does not have castes in the way we do.”

Ronan said nothing.

“I'm sorry for bringing up that, too,” she said. “I do not wish you to regret having told me your secret.” One of them at least. She could tell when he'd confessed that there'd been more—some darker secret. But when she'd pressed, he'd been past talking.

“I don't,” he said. “And it's not that. It's true I don't particularly want him to know I lack caste, or it will give him more cause to drive me from your side. But more than that, I'm simply frustrated with the entire situation. If we
were
to leave, we'd need to sneak away.”

“Do you think we ought to?”

“I think we will not get the chance before nightfall, and we should be at our destination by then, so the point is moot. Let's see these dragons. Find out if this can be done quickly and, if not, we'll discuss our departure.”

T
hey did indeed arrive at their destination before sundown . . . the next day. The horses had tired, and Edwyn had apologized for the delay, but they'd needed to make camp for the sake of the beasts. Ashyn would never argue with that. If Ronan disagreed, he'd wisely kept it to himself.

Already today they'd stopped briefly for a midday meal, and when they had, Edwyn had sent two of the women on ahead to “tell the others and begin the preparations.” When Ashyn had asked what that meant, he'd only smiled enigmatically and said, “Patience, child.”

They had not gone overly far when they stopped again. Ronan grumbled under his breath as he and Ashyn both gazed out over the landscape, seeing nothing that would explain their halting. Simply another delay, they presumed.

“We have arrived,” Edwyn said.

Ashyn looked out again, as if she might somehow have missed a dwelling. To the west was a distant hill. The rest was flat, grassy land. There seemed nothing for a quarter day's ride in any direction.

“Well?” Edwyn said. “Ronan? I may be old, but I've clearly heard your grumbling about the distance. Perhaps you'd like it to be farther?”

Ronan grunted and slid from his horse. When Ashyn tried to do the same, he stopped her with a raised hand, then said to Edwyn, “Show me where we're going first. I do not like the looks of this.”

“There,” Ashyn said, pointing at the hill.

Edwyn smiled, pleased. Ronan only looked confused.

“Does not the hill look odd?” she asked.

“If you're saying it isn't a hill at all, but concealing some building, then I'd say you share some of your sister's imagination. Look at the ground, the way it's split and scarred all along here. I'm no scholar, but clearly there was some sort of break or eruption ages ago. That strangely shaped hill is the result.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Which makes it unusual. Which means that is why we've stopped.” She glanced at her grandfather. “Is it some sort of sacred place?”

He smiled. “You might say that. Shall we ride closer?”

“Could you not have mentioned that
before
I dismounted,” Ronan muttered as he got on his horse again.

Edwyn ignored him, and the three of them rode off with Tova and two of the warriors, leaving the rest of the party behind. As they drew near the hill, Ashyn realized it was more of a small mountain, seeming to have erupted from the very
earth. The rough, barren rock was made of layers, some of the top ones overhanging lower ones, which gave the formation its very odd appearance.

Edwyn dismounted and walked to an area where the layers overhung the most, leaving a cave-like dip in the side. It was not a cave, however—Ashyn could see the rear wall of it, which did not extend more than a dozen or so paces. Edwyn continued to a corner hidden by the shadow of the overhang. And then he disappeared.

Ashyn scrambled off her horse and jogged over with Tova at her heels. She expected to see there was indeed a cave entrance. Instead, she saw a solid rock wall.

“Around here,” Edwyn called, seemingly from inside the mountain itself. Then his hand appeared, and she followed to see the solid wall was an illusion, created by shadow and the jutting rock. Squeeze past that jutting rock and there was indeed an opening, enough for a man to easily pass through.

She was about to step when Ronan caught her arm. He tugged her back.

“Move aside.” Then he paused and squinted through at Edwyn. “I mean, would you please allow me to go first, my lady, to ensure your safety?”

As he passed her, she murmured, “I must admit, I do rather like the sound of that better.”

He grunted and continued past her into the cave. She glanced at Tova, who made it through the gap with his fur just brushing the sides.

Ashyn continued behind Tova and Ronan as they followed Edwyn, who now carried a lit torch. The passage was narrow
and winding, as if hacked from the rock itself, and soon they were in near darkness, the torch flickering, the air thin. Then Edwyn stopped, and they were in a small room with no doors. No exits.

Edwyn reached up and grabbed what looked like a chunk of rock. When he pulled, there was a click, and he pushed at the wall. A door-shaped piece opened.

Edwyn walked through. Ashyn started after him. Ronan rocked forward as if to stop her, but only motioned that she should take out her dagger. She did, as she stepped into . . .

“Oh!” she said, stumbling back as she came face-to-face with a skull peering from the dirt. A human skull. An entire skeleton, actually, embedded in the wall.

Edwyn let out a word in a foreign language. It sounded like a curse.

“My apologies, child. I'm so accustomed to it that I never thought to warn you.”

“You're accustomed to corpses hanging from walls?” Ronan said as his gaze traveled across seven bodies, in various states of decay, all upright, as if they were part of the walls themselves.

“It's to discourage anyone who manages to get that hidden door open,” Edwyn said carefully, as if trying not to snap at Ronan. “The locals are very superstitious. In their lore, there is a demonic spirit that lures people into caves and underground caverns, devours them, and hangs their bodies for decoration.” He waved at the corpses. “Like so. Now I'm afraid this next part is a little unsettling. Ronan? Would you help me remove these three bodies? They're tied around the necks and limbs. Ashyn? You may wish to turn away for this.”

Instead, Ashyn stepped to the nearest skeleton he'd indicated and began unfastening the ties. It was not, admittedly, the most pleasant task, but these three bodies were dry and mostly mummified.

Once all three were removed, Edwyn had Ronan set them aside. Then he opened the doorway they'd been covering. He walked through first with the torch. Then Ashyn and Tova. Ronan came through last and then Edwyn raised the torch and—

Ronan breathed a curse. It was one Ashyn had heard from him before, and would never repeat, given that it was a very impious reference to the goddess's anatomy. Under the circumstances, he could be forgiven for it. Even Ashyn whispered, “By the ancestors,” under her breath as she stared at the cavern before them.

Ronan sheathed his sword and walked to a pile that glittered in the torchlight. He dug in, lifted his hands, and watched the gold and silver and red and blue sift through his fingers. Then he shook his head, dumped the remainder, and wiped his hands against his trousers as if they'd been contaminated.

“It's a trick,” he said. “An illusion.”

“Did it feel like an illusion?” Edwyn asked. “Look closer. I have a feeling you're quite adept at telling real from fake.”

Ashyn stared at the pile. Golden coins and necklaces and armbands. And jewels. Every color of jewels. It wasn't simply one pile either. More stretched into the darkness.

“Go on,” Edwyn said. “Taste it or scratch it or whatever your sort do to distinguish real from counterfeit.”

Your sort
. Ashyn tensed, ready to jump to Ronan's defense.
But Ronan stared at the pile, and in his face, Ashyn no longer saw the brash and audacious young warrior-thief. She saw a casteless boy risking his life for a few of these coins, dreaming of a pile a tenth this size, of what it could buy, the life it could buy, the freedom to tell his family he was done with thieving and conning.

The whole pile? That was not merely freedom for his family but from the stain of his ancestors. With one of these piles, he could buy caste.
Warrior
caste. Buy back his birthright. Bequeath a better life to his children and his siblings.

Ronan took a handful of gold and jewels, and he did not test it. He simply stared at it, his eyes dark with hunger and need and longing. He rose, still clutching that small cache of treasure, and he turned to her, with that same look on his face. Hunger and need and longing. He stood there, hand extended, offering it to her. Then he snapped as if from a trance and threw the gold and jewels aside so hard the echo pinged through the cavern.

“Let's go, Ash,” he said, pulling out his sword with one hand while propelling her toward the exit with the other. “I'll not be tricked like this. I'll not.”

“Ronan . . .” She caught his hand and he pulled away, as if burned. Then he shook his head sharply and took her by the arm. Beside her, Tova whined, unsettled.

“Come on, Ash. He's setting a trap with his magics, and I'll not see you hurt.” A glower Edwyn's way. “I'll not.”

“Not see
her
hurt?” Edwyn said, his voice soft, his gaze locked hard on Ronan's. “It's not her you're worried about, boy, is it?”

Ronan's grip tightened on his sword. “It's always her. She is the reason I'm here. To watch over her. To look out for her interests.”

“Because she's a mere girl and cannot be expected to do so for herself?”

“Do not twist my words against me, sorcerer.”

“I'm no sorcerer, boy. I am what they call in the North a cunning man, meaning I have devoted my life to the mysteries of our world, in particular dragons. That is all.”

“Enough,” Ashyn said. “Please.” She took Ronan's hand again. This time he didn't flinch, but let her lead him to the side of the cavern, while turning so he kept his eye on Edwyn.

“I don't know if it's magical or real,” she said, her voice lowered to a whisper. “But I'd not be swayed by gold and jewels. You know that. They mean nothing to me. If he truly sought to tempt me, he'd have a vast library down here, with every book I've dreamed of reading.”

Ronan's gaze shifted to Edwyn. “It's not you he tempts, Ash. He knows what I am. He said as much. He mocks me with this, and he thinks to entice me into proving I cannot be trusted. He hopes I'll slide jewels into my pockets. That I'll be unable to resist. And then he can say I'm no warrior and place his own man at your side.”

She lowered her voice further. “You think that's what he wants? That he has some motive and seeks to replace you?”

“He seeks to replace me because he finds me unworthy of his granddaughter. Unworthy as a guard. As a friend. Certainly unworthy as—” He swallowed and straightened. “I won't fail you, Ash. Even if this was real. Even if it could buy . . .” His
gaze slid to the piles and he recoiled, as if the very sight of the riches was poison.

“Don't,” she whispered. She clutched both his hands and leaned toward him. “I know what this would mean to you, and you do not need to pretend otherwise. I don't care if you sneak jewels into your pockets, Ronan. If they're real, I'll do it for you.”

“No. Never—”

“But I
would
, and I would defend you if you did, and I could not see it as any betrayal of your loyalty. So stop thinking that.”

“I want to leave,” he blurted. “Now. I don't like this, Ash, and we've no time for it. Moria is out there. Tyrus is out there. My brother and sister—”

“Then we'll arrange for you to go.”

“No.” His eyes widened. “That's not what I mean. I won't leave you. I'd never—”

“Ronan? Shhh. It's all right.” She leaned as close to him as she could, raised on tiptoe, and he went still, breath catching as if she was about to kiss him. But she only whispered, “If you wish to leave, we'll leave. When we can. I've said that and I mean it. For now . . .”

Ronan swallowed. “Hear him out.”

“Please. If you'd rather go back outside and wait—”

“No.” His chin lifted, the old Ronan sliding back. “Let's get this over with.”