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“I don’t need reminded,” I snarled, that heartbreak would never leave me. Which they both knew with how that subtle sorrow mixed with victory in Ryndle’s eyes.
“The third does not exist.”
“It does. It has to.” I tried to be firm, even if I was as disbelieving as my brother. “If we want any hope of stopping Dalyah, of stopping what is coming, the third holder of light is our only choice.”
They looked at each other, both clearly thinking me mad and doing nothing to disguise it. Truth be told, I might be mad, but we had no other choice now. Perhaps we never did.
With the gaze that passed between them, they knew it too.
Before I could get a chance to say more, one of Ryndle’s men came running around the bend, his face frantic as he bolted right to us.
“My Lord, my King,” he said, bowing to Ryndle and then to me.
“At least someone knows how to recognize their King–” I began, but Lyani stepped away from Ryndle, her fists tight little balls as she glared me down. That was enough for me to bite my tongue.
“What is it Midra?” Ryndle asked. Always the peacekeeper, my brother was.
“We have packed up the camp as requested, but we have a problem. We cannot find Ziah anywhere.”
“What?” Lyani’s anger melted into something else as she rounded on the messenger, all of the dread settling right back in my gut. “Did you check the low carriage, or the temple? You know how he loves to wander–”
“We found this.” Midra held out a piece of paper, the crinkled thing clearly torn from the Book of the Goddess that Ryndle required his army to read.
Lyani grabbed the paper, reading it quickly before swearing and passing it over to me.
My gut turned fluid as I read the words, realizing that yes, things could in fact get much worse.
‘I’ve gone to be strong, to be a warrior. You said he was important, and I know he is the one to show me how to fight. How to be what the Goddess wants me to be.’
“He stowed away in the queen's caravan.” The words felt numb. It was Ryndle who swore that time.
“What do we do? We aren’t supposed to go there yet.” Lyani was near panic. I would have tried to comfort her, but the rolling clouds were not promising that I would not get punched.
“True, but we cannot leave him, either.” I said, my eyes already drifting toward that far away spot on the map, the one that was still supposed to be out of our grasp. “Fate is playing her hand now, it seems.”
“You cannot be saying what I think, Vaelar. Going there now will start the clock,” Ryndle said, dismissing Midra before he heard too much. He might have already. “It isn’t time. We aren’t ready, and if you want us to find the third–”
“I don’t think we have much of an option,” I said, looking from the far away fortress to my siblings. “If Dalyah finds Ziah, if she figures out what he can do, then all of this will end in a way far worse than what we are anticipating.”
“So, we go to Turin? To the Runturin.” Lyani’s voice vacant, even though her storm clouds were clearing away.
“Yes,” I said, nodding as all of those nerves loosened, but not for the reason that they should. “After all, you don’t expect me to leave my mate there and allow her to destroy the world, do you?”
Chapter 54
The Boy
Ihad gotten used to the smell; to the violent aroma of blood, piss, and shit that was everywhere. It mixed with the salt tang of tears that no one ever stopped shedding. I was sure the aroma wasn’t as bad to the others, but to me it was trapped behind the black fabric I had been forced to wear my entire life, everything turning into a hot, smelly hell.
I was starving, thirsty, and felt as though I was slowly dying; much like the rest of them. If not for the water skins and bits of moldy bread they threw in twice a day some of the Catalysts might have died already. It was almost as if they were working to keep them clinging to life. Alive, but barely.
Cries echoed everywhere as I leaned against the side of the rocking wagon. The creaking scream of the old axles loud as I pressed my face against the wood slate, praying to the Sister for a bit of fresh air to take away some of the stink; some of the heat that I could not escape.
I must have fallen asleep, for the next thing I knew the doors to the wagon were being thrown open, the same black clad guards I had spent my life training with standing there, throwing in skins and moldy bread. I didn’t move from where I leaned against the side of the wagon, they couldn’t see my face anyway, they couldn’t tell how closely I was watching.
They couldn’t see me notice that the guard at the back wasn’t holding his sword as strongly as he should, or that the guard closest to me hadn’t even drawn his sword at all.
They were getting comfortable thinking that all of the Catalysts were too weak to fight. They had clearly forgotten that I was among them.
