Veiled Innocence (Book One, The Soul Cycle) (34 page)

When Vishka actually paused a few feet in front of him, he nearly collapsed with relief.

He bent over, willing his wobbly legs to hold him up, and breathed deeply. With each breath, his side felt like it might split in two, and h
e groaned. “Don’t you ever tire
or grow hungry?” he said between breaths. 

Vishka stood perfectly still, an unnerving ability of hers, with her head cocked to the side as she studied a hazy mountain in the distance. She tilted her head slightly, listening for something his human ears could not pick up. 

“Tch. Fine. Don’t answer me. You haven’t said a word this entire time. Why should I expect different now?” He glared at her and gingerly straightened his spine, stretching his arms over his head to loosen his taut torso. 

She muttered something in a foreign tongue and said, “We’re close.” She pointed in front of her. “That mountain is where the Dracor took her. She’s still alive.”

He leaned to the right and stretched his thigh. “How do you know?”

“I can hear her heartbeat.”

Rowan nodded. This was good, far better than he had hoped for, and the fear he had kept silent faded a bit. But he couldn’t ignore the uncomfortable grumbling in his stomach. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. “I don’t know about you, but I have to eat. May I suggest we take a break to rest and sate our hunger? And by
our
hunger, I mean
my
hunger.
”

He looked up. Vishka was gone.

Brows furrowed, he glanced around him. Where did she go? “Unreasonable hag.”

Something smacked him in the back of the head. “Ow!” His hand flew to his head, and he whirled around to find an enormous golden ball with red spots lying at his feet. He
kneeled
to examine it.

“I trust yo
u’re acquainted with moon fruit.
”

Rowan fixed Vishka with a sharp lo
ok. She
was sauntering toward him with an armful of the bulbous fruits. “Yes,” he growled, snatching up the fruit. “But couldn’t you have just handed it to me like a civilized human being?”

“Oh, now how much fun would that be? Here.” She shoved another fruit into his hands, along with a hefty tankard. “Eat. Drink. Do whatever mundane things your mortal body requires. But don’t take too long. We haven’t much time.”

She leaned against a tree while Rowan plopped down on the ground and greedily devoured the fruit. It was tangy and sweet at the same time. Thick, red juices dribbled down his stubbled chin. He’d had moon fruit before. It grew sporadically in patches throughout Dreaka’s Forest. Growing up near the wood
s
, his mother had always kept a basketful on the table.

They ate in silence, passing off the tankard but never once talking. After about an hour had passed and the food had settled, Rowan stood up and stretched. Though sore, he could feel some of his strength returning. “That was actually kind of wonderful,” he said, taking a huge breath of air. “I think I’m good to keep going.” 

“About time,” Vishka said. Then she was gone again. 

Rowan swore under his breath and sprinted after her. He wanted to find Lianora as badly as Vishka, but he couldn’t ignore how his body ached every time his feet hit the ground. 

He heard his father’s voice in the back of his mind.
“You’re wea
k, a
pathetic excuse for a soldier, and the poorest Black Knight I ever saw.”

Rowan gritted his teeth.
I am not weak. I am
the
Black Knight of Accalia.

He pushed t
he pain to the back of his mind
and willed himself forward. After a few minutes, his legs didn’t feel so heavy anymore as they adjusted to the ludicrous pace Vishka was setting. And yet for all his effort, he could not catch her at a dead sprint.

The sun was starting to arc
h
toward the horizon when they finally
came to the base of the mountain, taking only a few short breaks in the meantime. Vishka stared up at it, without so much as a sweat to show for their run. He bit his tongue, his fatigue fueling his irritation. “What now?”

He tilted his head back. The mountain’s peak was shrouded in clouds; Rowan had never been that close before. As a child, he had dreamed of climbing this very mountain, but it was one in a long series of dreams that never came to fruition. Not with life in the military. Not on Orris’ schedule.

Rowan narrowed his eyes and scowled at the ground.
Gods, please don’t let it be him. 

“Did you hear me?” 

He turned as Vishka placed her hands on her hips and cocked an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I – I’m sorry. I did not,” he said, wiping the sweat off his brow with his tunic.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I said, are you fit to climb, or shall I go alone? The last thing I need is for you to fall off the mountain.” She grinned. “Then again, perhaps that’s not such a bad idea. One less thing to worry about.”

  Rowan ignored the barb
and turned away from her. He couldn’t hide the grimace on his face. She needed to know. If they were truly going to be prepared for what they were about to face, she had to know.

He took a deep breath, steeling
himself
, and started to turn around. “There’s
something I need to tell… you…”

Vishka was gone. 

A stray pebble clattered down the mountainside and rolled past his foot. 

“What are you waiting for?” Vishka cried from above him. “An invitation from the Dracor?”

He looked up. She was already a good hundred feet ahead of him, steadily edging her way up.

Rowan gritted his teeth and stalked toward the mountain. He felt along the rock, trying to use the same placements she had.

Not having the slightest idea what he was doing, he took a deep breath, hoisted himself onto the rocks, and began to climb.

***

WHEN HER EYES FIRST
opened, Lian spooked at the tall shadow standing next to her.

She had been covered in a blanket made from some animal’s hide, but her skin felt cold and wet beneath its warmth. Though the sun shone brightly outside, it did nothing to chase away the inner chil
l of the cave. The air was damp
and smelled of roasting meat and moss.

“Where am I?” she mumbled, blinking swollen eyes. Her head was pounding so hard that her mere voice sounded much too loud, and every second she was awake she noticed more and more just how much the rest of her body hurt. Images poured through her mind, of being pinned to the bottom of
the river by long, black claws;
of diving
in and out of foamy white water;
the freedom of falling over the edge of
the waterfall into the open sky;
of flying and feeling like
the world didn’t matter anymore.
She vaguely remembered sw
eeping in and out of the clouds
and
sailing over the vast forest before at last blacking out. 

Maybe she had only dreamed of flying. Maybe she really was dead, and this was Purgatory. 

The shadow grunted
,
and she
startled
. She had forgotten about it. It placed a chipped brown bowl beside her head. It was filled with slivers of flaky flesh and larger bits of a thicker meat. She squinted, not quite sure what to think of it. It smelled fresh enough, and smoke still lingered from it having recently cooked over a fire. A tankard soon followed the bowl.

“Eat.” The shadow’s voice was low, grating, and very much menacing. 

She shivered. “Am I dead?” She watched as the shadow stepped away from her and back into the darkness. “Are you Death come to take my soul to the other side?”

“
If I was,
I wouldn’t be bothering to feed you
,
now would I?”

She
closed her eyes and sighed, not sure whether she was relieved or disappointed. She hurt too badly to care very much one way or the other. On the other hand, she was surprised she was even conscious. The weight of the crystal pressed against her bosom. She recalled
how her bruises had disappeared
and her near-fatal illness had magically vanished after only a day.
It’s healing me, I’m sure of it.

Bracing herself, she gritted her teeth and carefully slid her elbows closer to her head. She took a deep breath and pushed her weight onto her elbows. Pain exploded along her back
,
and she cried out, falling limply to the slab and nearly knocking the bowl and tankard onto the floor. A large, calloused hand flew out of the darkness to steady her.

“Watch it,” the shadow snapped. 

It was a man;
that much she could be certain. But who would be up here, in the middle of the wilderness?

“
S
orry,”
she mumbled.
She wanted to ask who he was and how he had come to be there, but the sharp edge in his voice made her reconsider.

“Here.” The hand reached into the bowl and handed her a bit of meat. “Open your mouth.”

She eyed the meat and did as he said, lowering her jaw as far as the pain would allow. He dropped the meat into her mouth, recoiling immediately as if repulsed when his fingertips touched her lips, and she caught a flash of raised flesh. She chewed and swallowed the meat, which to her surprise tasted quite good. The hand kept feeding her this way in silence. Each time the arm came into the light
,
she noticed more and more scars, some larger and more gnarled than others. 

“You have a lot of scars,” she said. 

The hand paused midair. “I’ve seen many battles.” His voice was guarded. He deposited more food in her mouth, this time flaky, like fish. It was the best thing she had tasted in days.

She didn’t know what to say
,
and neither of them said more.

When she was done with the food, he removed the bowl and put the tankard to her lips. Fresh water rained out over her tongue, and she greedily drank until it was empty. When he removed the tankard
,
she said, “Thank you.”

He retreated into the shadows and grunted in reply. 

“
I’ve seen many battles.
”
She wondered what so
rt of battles this man had seen and
how he had found himself in the forest. The wild pattern of scars on his arms and hand raced through her mind. 

It hit her without warning, a memory she had buried so deep she had forgotten it had ever happened.
“
But you’re not actually a real lady, are you? You’re just the Arch Duke’s bastard child.
”

That voice… S
he knew it from somewhere. It se
emed like such a long time ago.

Cold recognition washed over her. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

In the darkness, two orange eyes burned. 

***

ROWAN DIDN’T THINK HE
was going to make it.

Every muscle in his back felt like it had been pulled and twisted beyond all human capacity, and still he lugged himself up the mountain. He couldn’t even see Vishka anymore. She had pulled ahead of him and disappeared once again.
Insufferable woman.
He gritted his teeth as he stretched for another placing. 

“Hurry up
, weakling
,” Vishka said. “You move at the pace of a turtle. I thought you were not yet twenty? I’m over a thousand years old, and I move faster than you.”

He growled. “
That’s… because… y
ou… don’t… age… wench.”

He was so caught up in his rising anger that when his foot slipped, he nearly lost his bearing completely. He swung from one arm, his feet dangling in the air. He glanced down. It
had to be at least two or
three hundred feet. If the fall didn’t kill him, he would be far too broken to be of much use. Panic set in
,
and he grappled with the mountain, struggling to regain his footing. His f
ingers were slipping one by one.
H
e frantically tried to find something to grip with his free hand
,
but each time there was nothing large enough to grab on to. 

I’m going to die
up here on this mountain. I’m never going to get the chance to really live. Lianora. Gabriel. I’ve failed them. I’ve failed as a knight.
He felt his fingertips slip, and there was a moment where he hung in the air, as if weightless, before he started to fall. 

He closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact.

Maybe it will be quick.

Suddenly, he wasn’t falling anymore. When he opened his eyes, a delicate hand was fastened around his wrist. “
I decided it’s better I keep you around
,” Vishka said, hauling him over th
e ledge and onto a narrow path. “That way I can poke fun at you.”