Hunted: The Warrior Chronicles #2 (3 page)

After the sword was passed over, Rohnan left, trotting his horse perfectly. His balance and ease on his animal, even sitting bareback, made it look like he’d been doing this all his life even though it must’ve been a more recently acquired skill. They hadn’t ridden horses in their village; they’d been too expensive, and not needed.

Rohnan had always been a fast learner, though. There was very little he couldn’t learn and master in a short time. Shanti had always thought she was the same, but the bloody animal beneath her was making a mockery of that idea.

“Okay, we’ll head in the direction of the closest town.”
Shanti said to the man. She kicked the sides of her horse. It pawed at the ground, not moving.

“A leader is one who knows the way, goes the way, and shows the way.”
The man leaned forward slightly. His horse started trotting north. Her horse moved with it, still ignoring her but apparently content to be heading out in company.

When they reached a small but well-traversed trail, they slowed to allow the horses to find their footing. She felt a blast of elation radiating from Rohnan. She grabbed the horses’ minds around the camp and
wrenched
. A couple of horses screamed and the sound of hooves thundered in the distance.

“That is definitely going to wake someone,” Shanti said as a new urgency filled her.

Rohnan was soon with them, pushing his horse as fast as he dared in the dark on the rough terrain. “I’ve set the horses loose before,” he said. “It took the Graygual a while to properly investigate, and longer to collect them. They were in no real hurry.”

“Was that before or after the Superior Officer settled in?”

“Before. We’ll have to hope he’s not as good as the rumors suggest. Can you identify him? Kill him now?”

“There’s no point. I’d know the higher level officers by their sharp intellect, but I didn’t map out the Superior Officer’s mind. I wouldn’t be able to tell which is his. I can’t kill them all from this distance, either.”

“Then we’d better hurry.”

“Yes, Rohnan. Thank you,” she said sarcastically. “That was the one part of my plan I had forgotten about—hurrying.”

“Did this Mountain Region have many with the
Gift
?” Rohnan’s emotions were colored with humor. “If not, how did you have any friends? A person taking you for face value, without the help of knowing your true feelings beneath, would surely want to beat you senseless.”

Panic bled into Shanti. “How did you know about the Mountain Region?”

“The rumor was that the violet-eyed girl helped a place called the Westwood Lands liberate a city taken by a faction of Inkna. She—you—were believed to be with them. I understood that city to be somewhere in the Mountain Region—more of a remote location. Was that incorrect?”

“Then they are marked.” Shanti’s throat tightened as panic and anxiety dripped through her like acid. “If their name is known, in connection with me, Xandre will want them destroyed.”

“Xandre will put them on the list, Chosen, but he’ll be in no hurry to carry out the destruction. They’re far to the north in the middle-land, are they not?”

“But if the rumor is that I’m still with them…”

“Speculation was that you were heading east, even in the taverns. Many think you will pit yourself against this newly proclaimed Chosen. Many believe that you are still alive. Some even claim you are a deity.”

Shanti snorted, remembering what Tauneya had said. “Madness.”

“No, Chosen. Hope. In a land where women are ever becoming the victims, and men are dying to protect their families, it is a strange thing hearing of a lone woman causing this much trouble for a tyrannical leader. You are a beacon of hope, now. The violet-eyed girl who has not only avoided the Being Supreme’s clutches, but also defeated a small army of Inkna? You have become a story, a legend. There are few heroes in this land anymore, and those that exist don’t tend to last long. Yet here you are, rescuing the Ghost who has haunted the Graygual’s steps. Hope, Chosen, is the most powerful weapon a person can yield. Hope creates miracles.”

“Hope also gets people killed,” Shanti said, feeling a weight settle in her gut. She barely had any left herself—had lost it more than a handful of times, if truth be told—she couldn’t fathom being what Rohnan suggested. She didn’t think she could live up to the expectation. Especially now that her title had been stripped from her.

A lone woman, indeed. What they didn’t know was that she was also lost. Directionless. Running back to Cayan with her tail between her legs because she had no idea what else to do. Hope couldn’t rest with her—it had to rest with him. Otherwise, the journey was over.

T
hey arrived
at the Horse ’n Pony as light flared through the dawn sky in streaks of pink and gold. A pristine sign hung above the closed, green door with a thoroughbred-looking horse and a fat little pony beside it. Shanti thankfully slid from her horse’s back and tossed the lead to Rohnan. The graying man sat straight and complacent, looking out over the cobblestone street as shopkeepers went about opening their stores down the lane.

“You might see if he has some decent clothes for you to wear. You don’t fill those out,” Rohnan taunted.

Despite the dirt and mussed, white-blond hair, Rohnan’s face seemed just as fresh and youthful as she remembered. High-cheekbones and a straight, narrow nose set off a strong jaw. He could pass for a noble in most of the cities and towns she’d passed through. He would, and probably did, have women of all ages swooning as girls followed him around begging for his attention. Currently his shapely lips were half-curved into a sardonic smile, something he did often. Smile. And jest. Make light of the desperate situation in which they always found themselves.

“Did I teach you your charm, Rohnan? Because if so, I did a terrible job.”

His mouth turned into a full smile showing even, white teeth. His mental tone was haunted, though, despite his glittering eyes. He was making the best of the situation, just as she was. “No, Chosen. I’ve had to learn to charm my way into women’s beds, or else where would I sleep?”

“In the bushes and gutters, like me,” she grumbled, turning toward the Inn.

The door opened on well-greased, maintained hinges. A tall, empty desk greeted her. To the right, a staircase led up to the second floor. Beyond the desk and out through an arched door the room opened up. She could make out a few tables on the shining wood floor. It was probably the common room where entertainment would come during busy times, where patrons ate, and where a thirsty traveler could find libation.

She wanted nothing more than to take a bath, drop down at a table, and drink until she couldn’t remember her name.
Another life, Shanti. The next life, perhaps, the Elders willing.

She passed the unoccupied desk and stepped through the archway. Two sleepy men sat at separate tables, eating bowls of porridge and sipping on mugs of something steaming. Each had a full leather sack strung over their chair-back, or resting at their side. One was newer than the other, but both identified the men as traders off to an early start. They probably had a long journey ahead of them.

One of them glanced up and caught her scrutiny. His muddy brown eyes took in her appearance before a scowl spread over his brow. She ignored him and continued to the bar where a portly man walked out with a clean, white apron. His gaze traveled a similar path as the traders’ had a moment before. Disapproval radiated from his mind, but he didn’t scowl. Instead, a seller’s smile spread across his face. “Yes, ma’am. What can I do for you?”

He spoke in the language of the traders, a hacked-up common language, of sorts, spoken by travelers and wanderers, and ignored or unknown by the hierarchy. The language itself spoke of low class. Many of the more successful traders would use, instead, the language of the region they were in, speaking with richer patrons within their comfort zone, knowing all the major dialects as a business tool.

As Shanti was still dressed like a whore, and had fair skin denoting her foreign status, he’d obviously thought she resided at the lower end of society. A place she’d grown familiar with over the last year.

“I’m looking for Claude,” Shanti said in an even voice as she kept her gaze lowered. The light wasn’t bright, but it would be enough for him to make out the color of her eyes.

The man spread his arms to the sides in a welcoming sweep. “And you’ve found him. Welcome. How can I help?”

Shanti lowered her voice. “Esme sent me. I need the map. And I’d love some clothes fit for a male traveler, if you have them.”

Claude’s smile turned brittle. Wariness crept into both his gaze and mind as his eyes flashed to the occupied tables. He turned to the shelf behind him and grabbed a mug before placing it on the counter and pouring steaming liquid from a clay pot. He leaned against the bar and brought up a pure white cloth to wipe down a pristine spot of wood in front of him. In a voice that carried, he said, “Well, ma’am, we don’t have any rooms just at the moment. Maybe I can water your horses while I check to see when one might become available?” Caution and expectation lanced his thoughts, but not suspicion. Wariness lurked in his gaze.

“Yes, that would be fine,” she said, playing along. “Though I am in need immediately. If you can’t find anything, I will be on my way.”

“Fine, fine. That’s fine. I’ll send my boy out of the barn to see to those horses while I check in with the Missus.” His head jerked toward the archway.

“I’ll wait outside, if you don’t mind.” Shanti turned without another word and made her way back through the room with a stiff back and high chin. She’d been refused lodging often in the past year. When a dirty, raggedy wanderer didn’t have money, innkeepers didn’t have patience. She knew what it was like to be rejected a warm meal or bed and forced back outside in the pouring rain. Her walk from the room could sell “down on one’s luck” to even the most ardent disbeliever.

She emerged from the door and jerked a thumb to the side of the inn. “Barn.”

Rohnan kicked his horse forward, leading Shanti’s horse as he did so. The older man followed without prompting or complaint. They waited in silence as light crawled across the ground. The chill air began to warm up, welcoming the coming day. Impatience radiated from Rohnan, though his face remained passive.

Some minutes later, Claude appeared in his white apron with a hurried step and bundle of clothes. He wasted no time with pleasantries as he reached them. “Clothes will be big, but it’s the best I could do. The map’s in the middle. Get out of town before you open it.”

“Thank you, Claude. Do you have saddles? I can pay for them,” Shanti said quietly.

Claude couldn’t help himself from gazing down at her clothes. He jerked his head away as embarrassment whirled in his mind. “No need. We help each other.” He moved to the murky gray in the back of the barn. When he returned, a teenage boy was beside him. They each held a worn leather saddle. They waited only long enough for Rohnan and the old man to dismount before quickly saddling up the horses. To Shanti’s surprise, her horse didn’t growl or bite. It stood still with only a few stamps of a foot. The boy saddling the animal gave it furtive glances, as if knowing it was temperamental. Shanti couldn’t blame the lad.

When they were finished, the man glanced out of the barn opening before wiping his hands on his apron. “Get gone, now. This town is always flooded with the Graygual army come mid-morning. That lot have gold—they keep the place clean and organized. Quite a change from the normal lot. But they police it, too. They’ll stop you and ask about your business. They don’t like outsiders around here—they have something of value in that camp down in the valley.”

“Is that camp set up just for that purpose—protecting something?” Shanti asked as she stripped quickly and donned the fresh clothes. She handed Tauneya’s clothes to Claude. “Can you see that Tauneya gets those back?”

“Tauneya—oh yes, of course. Then you’re not a…” Claude rubbed his nose instead of finishing the question. Instead he said, “The word is, they’ll be there for a while. Want to train up some snatchers or some such. Inkna. Those mind-weapons the Graygual have. That’s what I hear. Men come and go all the time from there—up here to drink sometimes. They don’t say much, but I listen as best I can. They might act right, but they are policing matters they shouldn’t be troubled with. They think they run this place—tell me how to run my business, send performers away for being too coarse, tell me what’s what.” He shook his head and glanced back out the barn door. His gaze refocused on Shanti. “Watch yourself. If you’re running, you’d better run fast, because they’ll kill you if they catch you.”

“They’ll do much worse than that,” Shanti mumbled, opening her satchel. She took out a handful of gold and forced it into his hand. “Thank you for the help.”

“Oh my—oh no, m’lady. No, indeed. This is too much. Even if I were to charge—which I’m not, mind. I’m—”

“I have it to give. Help someone else with it if you won’t keep it.”

Claude bowed, clutching the money between his aging hands. “Thank you. Thank you, m’lady. Tauneya said she’d find someone to help if she was patient—thank you. I didn’t believe her. You understand—her god isn’t even real. But—thank you! I’ll make sure this goes to those who need it most.”