Torn: Bound Trilogy Book Two (10 page)

A bemused expression crossed Bernard’s face. “Did my blessed mother just say ‘damn’?”

“Probably not the first time she’s paired it with Aren’s name,” I said, and Bernard snorted.

“So we’re going?” Florizel asked. “Soon maybe?”

“Sounds like we might be.”

A shiver rippled over her gray hide, and she pawed at the beach. “We’d have to fly,” she said, and her lips twitched in a horsey smile.

I looked up into the clear blue sky. “I know. God help me.”

T
he horse fought
me until we left town, only accepting my authority after we’d gone some distance at a hard gallop. Perhaps he was simply too tired to fight anymore.

The main road served us well for a time, but I turned off onto a smaller one heading north before we ran into any other travelers. As we rounded its first curve, voices came to us from the main road, shouting over the noise of pounding hooves. The horse tried to go back, and I turned his head forward. We kept on, still moving more quickly than I suspected he liked.

The small road led to another which was little more than the ghosts of wheel-ruts in the earth, with grasses and tiny shrubs springing up between. It looked quiet, and it led away from town. That was all I needed at that point. The path twisted and turned between massive boulders and around marshy dips in the ground, leading ever deeper into what I recalled my maps showing as a massive blotch of trees. Not much help there.

We didn’t stop to rest until the sun shone high overhead. The horse took a drink at a small pond fed by a brook that was barely a trickle even at this time of year, then stepped into the water to snap at an early frog and chew on the tops of lily pads. Not a dietary preference I’d seen in a horse before, but if he could look after himself, so much the better. I kept him tied on in case he decided to wander, and closed my eyes for a moment’s rest.

When I opened them again, the light had shifted. I cursed under my breath. I’d slept too long. I couldn’t regret the dream I’d been having about Rowan, though, except to wish it hadn’t ended so soon. I collected the horse, tightened his saddle and adjusted the bridle, and rode on.

The path disappeared completely, but I had no desire to turn back. Though I’d never developed any magical skills that would help with finding my way through the woods, I knew a few things. Mosses grew more heavily on the north side of rocks and trees, and the sun traveled east to west. We continued north and west, going around steep rises and boggy hollows, weaving between the trees. I considered taking flight to get an aerial view of the land around us, but couldn’t risk being seen. A mountain eagle here would be a clear give-away of my location, and would be far too visible in the clear blue sky.

The light dimmed as we moved into an older part of the forest, where pines ten times my height branched high up to filter the sunlight. Few other plants grew in the shadows between the widely-spaced trunks, leaving plenty of room for us to pass. It made for easy riding, but the quiet woods felt wrong. Eerie. A few birds chirped overhead, but I suspected prey would be scarce if I decided to change and hunt later.

Pine needles covered the forest floor, dulling the sound of the horse’s steps. We went slowly and carefully over the unfamiliar ground, but made good progress.

After a while, everything began to look the same. Still, I was certain we were still heading the right way, though we had to adjust course frequently to avoid trees and bounders. I brushed my fingers over a strip of moss decorating the side of a tree and turned slightly to my left, correcting to travel north-west past a gigantic willow covered in strange purplish leaves, the only one of its kind in the otherwise all-pine forest.

A quarter of an hour later we came to the willow again.

I dismounted and tied the horse to a low branch so I could look around on foot. A closer-set pair of trees to my left caught my eye, and I went to take a look at them. I judged direction based on the moss on one, and walked to the other.

The moss pointed in a different direction.

So much for that plan.

The light in the woods was fading further, and I decided I had no choice but to fly. I made the horse comfortable near the willow, the only potential source of food besides pine bark and moss. He stripped buds off the slender branches as I moved a good distance away to undress and transform.

The forest was easy to navigate until I reached the canopy overhead. I forced my way through, climbing and breaking branches that left tiny droplets of sharp-scented sap on my feathers. Above, the sky was pink and fading to purple, with a few stars showing themselves in the east. I pushed off toward them and flew higher. The pine forest stretched below, broken by the brighter branches of the willow tree and parted by a wide and shallow river. I followed it upstream.

A freezing gust of wind ruffled my feathers, and I cursed Severn for not having the courtesy to wait until later in the spring to upset things. Night darkened the landscape, and a curious owl flew too close, so silent that I didn’t notice it until it was nearly on top of me. I whipped my head around and snapped my beak at it, and it veered off into the darkness.

I was in no mood for company.

I continued up the river, and a flash of light caught my eye. Another joined it, then a series of four, all together, remaining lit. Windows. I changed my course to investigate. If it was a town, I would stay clear. But I didn’t recall any on the maps, unless I’d strayed farther off-course than I suspected. Something else, then. Something uncharted. Maybe even something useful.

The forest thinned beneath me and the silhouette of a long building with tall spires at each corner stood stark against the twilight sky. I circled it at a safe distance, coming closer with each pass. In my poor night vision it looked to be an ugly thing, constructed of dark stone that could have sprouted from the ground, brick by massive brick. The spires rose high over the surrounding forest, and the slate-shingled roof slanted sharply up toward a row of ornate iron spikes that ran along the top, like the spines on the back of a dragon. A few dark outbuildings surrounded the massive structure, all surrounded by a high stone wall.

It was impossible to see into the narrow windows, and I didn’t dare pass over the outer walls of the property, not until I knew what this place was. I turned back and saw that the lone willow among the evergreens wasn’t too far away. I’d return with the sunrise to investigate further.

Though the trees sheltered us from the wind, the night was still too cold. I changed for long enough to remove the horse’s saddle and secure my blankets over him, then slept in eagle form, roosting high in the branches. Nothing moved in the woods all that night, and I managed a few hours of broken sleep.

I ignored the damned moss in the morning and trusted my instincts instead. We reached the strange building at sunrise—or at what would have been sunrise had the sky not filled with heavy clouds overnight. They hung low and dark, and lightning flashed far to the east as we reached the edge of the thick forest.

The horse snorted as I tied him to a tree next to a pitted and poorly-kept road.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll try to come back soon. We may need to leave in a hurry.”

When did I start talking to horses?

Rowan’s influence again. I closed my eyes to try to remember the feel of her magic, the sound of her voice and the touch of her lips, but she felt so far away. It was for the best, really. Perhaps I could forget her entirely until this mission was over.

A memory of her laughing eyes flashed through my mind, and I decided to keep her with me.

A rooster crowed as I transformed and flew to the top of an elm that reached over the thick stone wall of the compound. The main building was indeed unusual, but less hideous in the light. The long, tall building had a spire-topped tower in each corner and narrow buttresses along the sides, and all of it dotted with statues of strange creatures. What had seemed at night to be rough and rugged stone turned out in daylight to be ornately and carefully carved. I wouldn’t have called it beautiful, but it was certainly impressive.

I’d never seen anything like this, not in real life. But a memory of an old story book simmered deep in my mind, one that I couldn’t quite reach while in my eagle body. Something important, something having to do with the town I’d just left.

A small, thin man, clean-shaven and dressed in a rough, brown cassock emerged from a side door of the main building and came toward the wall. I shrank back, though he didn’t appear to be searching for me. The frigid ground didn’t seem to bother him, though he wore nothing on his feet. A flurry of clucking and crowing greeted him as he stepped into a wooden outbuilding, carrying a pail in one hand.

“Yes, yes,” he called, and closed the door behind him.

Lightning flashed, closer than before. Thunder boomed a few seconds later, and somewhere behind me my horse let out a nervous whinny. The rooster crowed again. The door to the outbuilding opened, the rooster was unceremoniously turned out to make his noise in the open air, and the door slammed shut.

At least the man hadn’t heard the horse.

Lights moved about behind the heavy, leaded windows in the large building, but still I could see little else. I studied the robed man when he appeared again to return to the side door, and forced my eagle’s brain to make connections it wasn’t designed for. Brown robes, rough material, belted with a green rope that hung down nearly to his knees, otherwise unadorned. A deep hood hung down his back, which he didn’t pull up against the cold. I searched for the word that would have been immediately available to my human mind.

Ascetic.

A religious order. Still that deeper connection niggled at me. I gave up and returned to the horse to change and dress. At times my eagle brain seemed deeply connected to my humanity. At others, it was absolutely useless at recognizing things it hadn’t seen with its own eyes.

The horse startled, eyes white-rimmed and feet shuffling, when I landed and changed in front of him. He reared when I tried to quiet him, but I managed to dart in and release him from the branch I’d tied him onto. He calmed, appearing comically surprised as he recognized me.

“Well, you’re no good to me if you kill yourself,” I told him as I dressed.

Dragonfreed Brothers
. The answer clicked into place, but seemed impossible. They had been mere legends even in my father’s time, stories once based in fact but embellished over the years to make them something that resembled the truth no more than Rowan’s beloved fairy tales did. These men had to be something else. If the order did survive, it was as a harmless shadow of the dangerous assassins I’d heard about.

Still, I would approach with caution.

The sound of galloping hooves drifted toward us from the road, approaching the heavy iron gates at the front of the building, and I crept closer to watch. A quartet of horses passed not far from me, puffing and blowing, lathered with sweat. Their riders looked little better off, harried and unkempt-looking in spite of the scarlet-and-gold uniforms they wore.

One reached out and pulled a heavy, tasseled rope that hung from the gate. The horses paced as the men waited for an answer. He pulled again, harder, and an ornate wooden door swung open at the front of the building. The man who appeared was taller and broader than his brother who had fed the chickens, dressed similarly but with a white rope at his waist. Grey stubble covered his broad jaw. He raised his eyes to take in the scene before him, but did not hurry to open the gate. His steps were slow, measured, composed.

“Come on, man,” a rider called. “We’ve been riding since midnight.”

The lead rider glared at the speaker and motioned for him to be silent. “My apologies, Brother Phelun,” he called. “My companion is out of sorts.”

The ascetic tilted his chin upward. “And what is so urgent that it has brought you here, riding so hard? Plague? Flood? War?”

“A message, brother, from the king.”

The monk raised one thick, silver eyebrow. “Is it, now? I thought he’d disappeared some time ago.” He looked down at his keys as he flipped through them, then slid one into the lock on the gate. “Has Ulric returned, then?”

I couldn’t help liking the man just a little for his obvious lack of fear in the face of Severn’s men.

The lead rider frowned. “From the regent, then, though it’ll not be long before he’s king. Will you speak to us?”

The monk offered a reserved smile. “Of course. Please, do come in.”

The riders passed single-file through the gate and rode directly around to the back of the building, while the monk went back through the wooden door, his pace unchanged.

I leaned against a tree and waited, but there was no sign of the men, or anyone else coming out of the building. I considered leaving, but there was too much I might learn here.

The wind picked up, and a light snow began to fall. At least the lightning had moved off for the time being, but I shivered.

An hour or more after they entered the building the riders reappeared, accompanied by the one they’d called Phelun. Another of the brothers brought their horses around, and the riders mounted.

“We’ll be in touch if we see or hear anything of the fugitive,” Phelun said.

The leader nodded. “We’ll have someone come back to check on things, of course.”

A mysterious smile flickered over Phelun’s face. “I think we can handle anything that comes our way.”

The rider’s expression hardened. “I have no doubt, brother. But we have our orders.”

“I’m sure. You are welcome at any time.”

Phelun let them out, but instead of locking the gate, he stepped through, closed it behind him, and pocketed his keys. He closed his eyes and turned his face toward a patch of sun that broke through the storm clouds, spreading his arms out as though to gather the weak rays to him. When he opened his eyes again, his expression was serene.

“If you’re here, you can come out,” he said. “I would speak to you, Aren Tiernal, before they get their hands on you.” His voice was low and smooth, and his words came with a strange and unhurried cadence. He walked a few steps farther down the road, away from the safety of his gates. “The Dragonfreed Brothers are no friends of Severn, or of those who would do you harm. You will be safe here, if you wish to rest. All we ask in return is information.”

He appeared harmless. But then, the man stood in the middle of the road in his bare feet, unarmed, open and waiting, knowing what I could do to him. Perhaps the more far-fetched stories of their skills weren’t inaccurate. It would be best if I moved on.