Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy Book 1) Page 5

  This forest was considered haunted for a reason. The growl of something fierce and feral chased us as we pushed forward, holding tightly to each other’s hands. Something brushed at my back and I let out a yelp. My boots grew heavier as mud caked the soles and clung to the hem of my gown.

  Damn being a girl. This was why the Tenovian men shut their women away at night. We made terrible runners with our layers of fabric and impractical shoes.

  If I ever made it to my kingdom, my first order of business would be to have all the dresses, petticoats, and corsets in the realm burned to ash. We would wear trousers like men.

  “Dragon’s blood!” Oliver hissed when he nearly collided with a tree the width of a Heprin cottage. He stumbled to a stop, still clinging to my hand. “I think we lost him.”

  I wheezed, the cool night air stinging my lungs with every inhale. I glanced around wildly but could only see a few feet in front of me. The night was oppressive beneath the forest canopy, as thick and blanketed as anything physical. “How can you tell?”

  “I can’t,” he panted. “But I’d rather take my chances with him than die by running headfirst into a tree. Not very dignified, is it?”

  “No, rotting in jail is infinitely more distinguished.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Exactly?”

  He ignored my sarcasm. “Now what?”

  “What do you mean, now what? We’re in the middle of a spooky forest with no hope of finding the road again in the dark. We just ran away from a Tenovian constable because we don’t have travel papers and are therefore in this country illegally. And what little hope there was of a hot meal has been extinguished. I suppose the only thing left to do is lie down and die.”

  “Well,” he huffed. “You’re awfully grumpy.”

  I decided not to answer him. Instead, I counted to ten.

  The bushes shivered nearby.

  “What was that?” Oliver yipped.

  I found myself squeezing his hand. “I don’t know,” I whispered. “A squirrel?”

  “An owl perhaps. They’re night creatures.”

  The bushes moved again, a violent shaking that started at the bottom and quivered to the very top. I squinted into the darkness but could only see a vague outline of the towering hedge. “Maybe it’s our constable?”

  Oliver nodded and his entire body jerked with the movement. “He’s found us,” he squeaked. “He’ll drag us back to jail and lock us away for the night.”

  “And he’ll have a hot bowl of soup waiting for us. And a bath.”

  “I don’t think they have baths in prison,” Oliver argued.

  I squeezed his hand even tighter as we waited for the rustling to become something more substantial.

  In hindsight, we should never have stopped running. But I blamed fear for freezing us in place. Fear and morbid curiosity.

  Suddenly the hedge split in two. The towering branches cracked straight down the middle as if struck by lightning. A great wildebeest burst forth, snorting at the ground and tossing its twin horns in the air. It stamped its feet and bucked its leathery hide. Beady red eyes glowed in the darkness, trained on us, before it lunged with a gurgling shout of hunger.

  We stayed frozen for one second longer, just long enough for us to picture what death would be like beneath those thick, twisting horns, too surprised and terrified to do anything. I let out an ear-splitting scream—or possibly that was Oliver—and we took off running again.

  The wildebeest had no trouble following us through the treacherous forest. Its hooves were better suited for the knotted roots that rose from the ground like the rocky cliffs against the Crystal Sea. It snarled and grunted as it chased us deeper into the twisted abyss, its thick hide bouncing off the rough bark without feeling. Our saving grace was that the predator was as wide as it was tall and couldn’t always fit through the narrow spaces between the trees like we could.

  My lungs began to ache, and my throat burned. My feet dragged as mud collected on my boots. I was fit from eight years of endless temple chores, but it had been a long day and we’d already been running for quite some time. Making progress took every last ounce of strength.

  “We need to do something.” I squeezed Oliver’s hand. “We need to go up!” If we hesitated even once, the beast would impale us for our indecision.

  Oliver and I let go of one another’s hands at the same moment. We leapt for the lower hanging branches of a massive tree. My fingers slipped against the slick bark, but I dug my nails in and planted my feet against the trunk. The mud that had been slowing me down now worked to adhere my feet to the slippery trunk.

  I used my last bit of energy to pull my legs up and wrap them around the branch. I had just arched my back when the beastie charged beneath me. My hanging gown rustled from the wind produced by the force of his charge. I thanked the Light that the feral creature was too short and fat to jump.

  The wildebeest charged into a neighboring tree, its pointed horns making a great crack as it hit the solid trunk. Undeterred, it pulled them free and stampeded back toward us. Oliver squealed when the deadly horns brushed his back, tearing a hole in his monk’s robe.

  I almost laughed at the quickness with which he scrambled higher, clambering around the branch with strength and skill I didn’t know he possessed. When I heard the snuffing and scraping of thick hooves as the beast prepared to rush us once more, I followed Oliver’s example.

  It wasn’t easy to haul myself around the branch, especially when my feet kept tangling with the long hem of my dress. But eventually, I managed to stand upright, hugging the bark of the thickest tree I’d ever seen.

  The wildebeest snarled at us. He charged again, bursting forward with more speed than I’d thought him capable of. His flat, bulbous head ducked low and his curled horns led the way as he slammed headlong into our refuge.

  My fingers dug into the bark until they ached as the tree trembled from the force of the impact. One of Oliver’s legs slipped off his branch and he flailed dangerously, waving his arms in wide circles in an effort to steady himself.

  “Higher!” I yelled over the snarling beast.

  We scrambled to climb the jumble of branches while the wildebeest retreated for better momentum.

  “What is that thing?” Oliver yelled desperately.

  My traveling boots were meant to walk long distances, but their soles had been smoothed over the last two weeks. I struggled to find footing. My fingers burned and panic seized my chest.

  “A wildebeest,” I panted, clinging to the tree just as the damned creature hit it once more.

  “A bloody wildebeest?” Oliver yipped. “And what will he do if he manages to knock us loose?”

  I swallowed roughly. “Smash our heads with his hooves.” I dug the toe of my boot into the seams of the rough bark. “Drag us back to his lair and gnaw on us for days.”

  “Dragon’s Blood, Tessana!” He briefly threw a hand up. “Did you intend to have me murdered before you set out? Or is this a spur of the moment decision?”

  “Stop being dramatic.” Just as I finished speaking, the wildebeest smashed into the base of the tree once more, managing to make the immense trunk rumble and shiver.

  We settled on a wide, flat branch that allowed us to sit together with our backs pressed against the trunk. The branch curved upward and created a bowl of sorts, nestling us inside. We pulled off our packs and held them tightly in front of us, hugging them to our chests and leaning against each other.

  “Did you ever imagine life outside of Heprin?” I asked him.

  He stared up at the still rustling branches as all sorts of creatures hurried for the safety of other trees. “Never.” His pause held weight. “I never wanted to leave Heprin. What would have been the point of imagining a life beyond it?”

  “Are you angry with me, then? Mad that you were forced to accompany me?”

  He shifted deeper into the cradle of the wide branch, resting his head against the ebony surface. “I’m afraid if I say no,
I’ll be shaken from this tree and made the next meal of that thing down there. Ask me again in the morning. When I’m not so concerned with smashed brains.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. It wasn’t quite the answer I was looking for. But it wasn’t the answer I wasn’t looking for either.

  As terrified as Oliver was, he fell right to sleep. Soon, his head lolled to the side and soft snores rattled in his chest. I leaned into his warmth and tried to ignore the chill sinking through my muddied cloak.

  I decided to let Oliver sleep while I kept watch. There weren’t just dangerous creatures on the ground to look out for; the trees could be treacherous, too.

  While we traveled through Heprin, we’d been able to camp by the roadside or find refuge with a friendly family willing to house travelers for the night.

  We would have none of that now. No warm fires. No hot breakfasts before we went on our way. There would be no more comfort or care until we crossed the border into Elysia.

  I calculated how long that would take. If we were still on the right track… if we could find our way out of the woods in the morning... if we survived until morning…

  Weeks.

  We had weeks, maybe months, of travel ahead of us.

  Even then we would have to figure out how to get through the Marble Wall and survive the Diamond Mountains. And all the while, we would have to keep the crown a secret. We would have to go unnoticed until we reached the only place the crown would ever be safe. Even if I wasn’t.

  The journey ahead of us seemed impossible.

  A chill slipped over my spine as I peered into the darkness. Much like at the tavern we’d just fled, I felt eyes on me again. Some instinct warned to be extra careful, warned that this journey was not quite the secret I hoped it would be.

  But it was useless. For all my paranoia and fear, I couldn’t see beyond my feet. The darkness of the forest was too oppressive. I blinked at the surrounding branches, but nothing made itself known. If something watched us, I hoped it was as blind as I.

  Eventually even the wildebeest gave up. The tree stopped shaking from its relentless charges and it wandered away.

  Quiet descended on the Blood Woods, broken only by Oliver’s gentle snores. I tipped my head back and stared at the obscurity overhead. It took several minutes before I was comfortable but eventually, I managed to relax.

  Whatever dangers awaited us would have to come tomorrow. My eyes grew heavy and I closed them without meaning to. I promised myself that I would rest for just a minute…

  Screeching ripped through the air. I blinked awake, confused and disoriented. A raven sat at the end of the branch we had slept on. Black wings stretched and took flight as soon as my gaze landed on it. It disappeared into the weave of red leaves and clustered branches with a single caw.

  More screaming pulled my attention back to the forest floor. Someone was in trouble. Someone little. A baby. Hazy light trickled through the canopy. I had slept through the night. The baby screamed again.

  Panic curled in my gut and spurred me into action. My elbow found Oliver’s ribs. “Wake up!” I demanded.

  He muttered something in his sleep and when I leaned forward to retie my boots, he slid behind me, banging his head against the trunk.

  Still, he did not wake.

  I shook his leg. “Wake up, Oliver!” I dug my fingernails into his thigh. “Wake up!”

  He opened one eye. “What is it, your royal highness? Do you need your chamber pot emptied?”

  “First of all, you would make a terrible servant. You should never go into the business of changing chamber pots.” His second eyelid lifted, and he gave me a sleepily sardonic smile. “Second of all, our services are needed. So move your skinny arse!”

  “Our services?” He came more fully awake.

  The screaming rent the air once again and I twirled my finger, indicating the sound.

  “Oh.” He scurried to his feet, trying to step in either direction without success. “Oh.” I handed him his pack so he could secure it to his body. “What is that?” he asked again after listening for a minute.

  “I think it’s a baby. Or a small child. Either way, it sounds as if it’s in a great deal of pain.”

  Jumping down, we checked ourselves again to make sure we had everything, then took off toward the cries.

  We moved as fast as we could without knowing exactly where we were going. Unfortunately, the sounds took us deeper into the forest, instead of out of it. We tried to put up quick markers so we could find our way out again, but we didn’t take enough time to make sure the task was done properly. With every second, the cries became louder and more pronounced.

  The broad trees and snarled roots were easier to navigate during the daylight, but not by much. We picked our way over the rough terrain. With every minute, my chest squeezed tighter and tighter.

  What if a beast carried the baby off before we could get to it?

  What if the baby was already being carried off?

  What if the same wildebeest from last night had at last found something to feast upon?

  “Tess, what do you think it is?” Oliver panted.

  I felt him slow behind me and prickled at his sudden reluctance. Glancing back at him, he looked much more alert than at first. His normal cowardice had finally woken. “A baby,” I hissed. “One that is in trouble. We need to move.”

  Oliver’s uneasy glare bounced from tree to tree. “You don’t think…?”

  His hesitation bit into my resolve. “What, Oliver? I don’t think what?”

  “Dragon’s blood, Tess! We’re in the Blood Woods. If there’s a baby screaming, why are we running pell-mell toward it?”

  His question stole some of my courage. What baby would be left alone, or worse, in the Blood Woods indeed? The child in question screeched as loudly as ever, shattering the sudden fear that held me back. I began to move again. “It needs us, Oliver. We are not the kind of people that sit idly by while injustice brews.”

  He didn’t follow me. Even after my rousing speech.

  I allowed one more minute to spin around and pin him with my most serious frown. “Oliver the Silent, don’t be a coward!”

  His eyes narrowed, but he took one step forward. “I hate it when you get your way.”

  “And I hate it when I have to resort to insults to get your cooperation.”

  “I’m not a coward,” he grumbled even while he picked up speed. “I’m intelligently careful. Unlike some princesses I know.”

  “All right, Oliver the Careful, you’ve stated your case. If death awaits us, I shall allow you to be right.”

  “I accept your apology,” he countered.

  I held his gaze, acknowledging that he was, in fact, right. We had no idea what hid behind the next tree, let alone what evil thing could force a baby to make such a horrific sound. Still, I had to do something. And I was grateful for a friend that would do that something with me even when he knew better. I grabbed his hand and we sprinted.

  Finally, we came to a ravine. We peered over the top and found the source of that horrid sound lying at the bottom of a muddy gully. Pushed to the far side, a trickle of a stream was nearly buried beneath wet leaves and exposed roots from towering trees.

  Oliver grabbed my forearm in his crushing grip. “Tessana,” he growled. “That is not a baby.”

  6

  “It is a baby!” I protested. “Just not a human baby.” My feet carried me forward and I half-slid down the side of the embankment, kicking up dead leaves and dirt.

  “Tessana!” Oliver cried. “I’m not helping you!”

  “Up the hill or with the little one?”

  Oliver thought about it for a moment. “Neither.”

  “Very well,” I sighed. “Then I’ll be forced to send you back to Father Garius. You can explain to him how you failed your assignment.”

  “Don’t be daft.”

  My blood flashed with frustration. I hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday’s meager breakfast, and
I was far too tired from sleeping in a tree to find anything about this situation funny. “Push me, Oliver. We shall see just how mad I can be.”

  He wisely shut his mouth.

  The little thing fell silent as well when I stood over it, too terrified to make a sound now. Not a human baby, but a white fox kit. Its snowy coat stood out starkly against the dirt and gloom of the forest around it. It cowered in its den, almost hidden in the grooves of a large root. Startling green eyes watched me as it shivered in its nest. I could see its small heart beating rapidly against equally tiny ribs.

  I held out my hand and it sniffed the air before lifting its muzzle again and letting out a howl of fear. I squatted down and shushed it.

  “There now, wee one,” I whispered. “I mean you no harm.”

  It couldn’t understand me. It was a fox after all. But it responded to the gentle tone of my voice. It stopped its wailing and inspected my hand again. Sniffing the air with its tiny pink nose, it pushed against my fingertips before sinking little teeth into one of my knuckles. Its baby teeth tickled, and I laughed at its desperate attempt to protect itself.

  “What a fierce one you are. Are you hungry?” I asked. It scooted forward, revealing more of its little body and beautiful white fur. In answer to my question, it sunk its teeth into the tip of my finger, gnawing as ferociously as it could. “Where’s your mama?” I let it nibble while I looked around the clearing at the base of the ravine for clues.

  The feisty pup kept chewing on my finger until I retracted it. I stood up, feeling uneasy. A mama wouldn’t leave her pup on its own like this. The kit moved to the edge of its den, following me without quite leaving its home. Its squeaking yips punctuated the quiet.

  “Is it by itself?” Oliver asked from overhead.

  “As far as I can tell,” I called back. “It’s just a little thing.”

  “That’s too bad,” he sighed. “It shouldn’t have to suffer in this godforsaken place.”

  I agreed. Beside a tall patch of winding roots, blood dotted the bark, growing thicker the farther from the den I walked. Finally, I found the carnage.