Crown of One Hundred Kings (Nine Kingdoms Trilogy Book 1) Page 6

  The mother had been torn to pieces by something bigger and meaner. Next to the mother’s broken body lay another foxling, this one with rich red fur that almost absorbed the dried blood coating its hide. A few feet away was the mangled remains of a larger fox.

  Gutted.

  Drenched in blood.

  “Dragon’s blood,” I whispered. The pup had lost its entire family.

  I looked back at its green eyes watching me from the edge of that root and felt my chest split open with pity.

  “The mother and father are dead,” I called up to Oliver. “And a sibling.”

  “Then he’s lucky to be alive. Although he won’t stay like that for long.”

  A pang pierced my chest.

  “Tessana, we should go while we have the light. We need to find our way out of this hell.”

  He was right about that too.

  I leaned down and scooped the pup up. “He is apparently a she.”

  I dropped the baby girl into my satchel and began the climb to the top of the ravine while she yelped and clawed at the leather. My mud-caked boots slid on the slippery leaves, kicking up dirt and twigs. When at last I surfaced and faced Oliver, he looked pristine compared to me.

  Since it had been an equal amount of time since either of us had bathed, I could rightfully complain that it was unfair.

  He pulled a twig from the savage strands of my hair. “How will you take care of her? She won’t survive with us, either. At least if you left her, you wouldn’t have to watch her suffer.”

  Her.

  I lifted my chin and knew I would find a way. “She lost her family, Oliver. She has no one.” Reaching back into my pouch, I pulled her free. Terror made her little claws seize my hand and she clung to me as if her life depended upon it.

  I held her up for Oliver to inspect. “She’s terrified. We can’t abandon her.”

  He leaned in and his voice dropped low. “Look at those green eyes. She is something special.”

  “Isn’t she?”

  He laughed as she started to nibble on his outstretched finger. “We need to find her something to eat. The poor thing’s starved. But I can’t tell you where in this bloody nightmare we’ll find milk for the little beastie.”

  “Shiksa,” I whispered. He lifted a questioning brow. “That’s her name. Shiksa.”

  “That’s a pagan word.” The admonishment rang clear in his voice.

  “It means ‘little warrior.’ My mother used to call my brothers and me that whenever we fought.”

  “Your mother was pagan?” Oliver stood straight and took a step back as if I would infect him with the memory of my mother’s religion.

  “No,” I answered. “She wasn’t pagan. But she knew the language. She didn’t despise it as most do today. She saw value in the tradition.”

  “It’s dangerous to use a pagan word, Tessana.”

  I waved him off. “And who but you will hear me speak to a foxling?”

  He had no response.

  I tucked Shiksa back into my pouch where she whined and mewled. “We’ll find you something to eat soon, little warrior,” I whispered to her. To Oliver, I said, “Let’s be off, before we lose the light.”

  Oliver glared, but led us back in the direction we’d come from.

  We couldn’t find a single one of our markers. Oliver pulled the inaccurate map from his bag, but it was impossible to tell which direction we needed to go. Had we run toward the north from the south? Or had we started south and run west?

  We wandered around for the better part of the morning. Shiksa whined and howled until we found mushabooms to feed her. The pillowy root was soft enough for her to tear apart with those tiny teeth. We only found three of them, and she wasn’t quite satisfied when she finished, but she quieted down, licking her chops with her pink tongue.

  If only we had been that lucky. By the time the sun reached its highest point over the canopy of leaves, my stomach growled angrily and my legs dragged over the roots.

  “Is there anything left to eat?” I panted as we turned in yet another circle. We thought the road was west, but walking that direction had not proven productive.

  “No,” Oliver groaned. “Well, a little. But we better save it for this evening.”

  “We should have found the road by now.” I ran fingers through my matted hair, braiding the wild strands into submission.

  “This isn’t a forest,” Oliver added. “But an impossible labyrinth into Denamon.”

  I would have rolled my eyes if I’d had enough energy. “Just a little further,” I encouraged. “We’ll find it eventually. Something is this direction. It can’t be all trees until the end of the world.” Shiksa mewled in my pouch, arguing with me. “The road has to be here somewhere. There is more to this realm than this bloody forest. Eventually we’ll find civilization again.”

  Oliver and I stilled at the same time. Something snapped overhead, like a rope breaking from its tether. The rush of wind screamed through the woods as we waited for the something to appear. My hand fell instinctively to my belt, resting on my weapon.

  I screamed as a clever rope-trap swept up from the forest floor. One second we stood firmly on the ground, the next we were flying through the tangled branches praying to the Light that we wouldn’t knock our heads on the deadly things or each other.

  The air rushed from my chest and my stomach flipped until we stopped swinging. We hung there, next to each other, swaying back and forth and dangling upside down.

  We were pinned low enough to be an inconvenient length from the branches above yet too high to touch the ground below.

  Both of our satchels dropped to the earth in the chaos, just out of reach. I tried to keep my traveling gown from giving in to gravity and embarrassing me further while keeping a close eye on my pouch.

  My sword had also managed to come unclasped and lay in a pretty silver slash against the cluttered forest floor.

  “Dragon’s blood!” I screeched at it.

  Oliver reached for our pouches while I struggled with my dress, but even his long arms couldn’t quite reach.

  A voice came from behind me, sending a trill of fear over my skin. “And here I thought we were going home empty-handed.”

  Another voice answered from our side. “Luck was on our side today, Dravon. For we have not caught a simple dinner, but riches enough for many dinners.”

  “You will find nothing but empty pockets and worthless purses from us,” I answered. I tried to make out their forms, but it was difficult from this position. I twisted around but couldn’t hold myself in place. The most I made out was rawhide hunting boots and black leathers.

  Bandits, to be sure.

  Dragon’s blood!

  “Paupers then,” the one called Dravon laughed. “In the Blood Woods? Didn’t they tell you to come ready to pay the toll? Passage through our land is not free, lass. You either pay with gold or you pay with your life. We require one or the other.”

  “Or both,” his companion laughed.

  I twisted again, ignoring the pain in my ankles from where the rope dug into my skin. I could see them more clearly and was surprised to find how young they were.

  I had expected men like the ones we met in the tavern last night, bearded, bulky, and boorish. But these were young men, only a few years older than Oliver and I, well-muscled with cleanly shaven faces.

  “You can have neither,” I told them. “Cut us down so that we may be on our way.”

  They laughed at my brashness. I couldn’t blame them, but I figured it was better to be bold than afraid.

  Something cold and distinctly metal brushed over the bare skin of my calf. A sword. “The lady has asked us to cut her free, Eret.”

  “I did not ask,” I clarified. “I commanded.”

  Oliver muttered a warning under his breath, but my heart tripped as I tried not to stare at my satchel sitting just out of reach.

  “Unfortunately for you, my lady,” the one called Eret snarled. “We have forsaken
both king and crown so that we can live freely, meaning free from commands. Even from lost paupers wandering through our woods.”

  I tried to hide my gasp of surprise. “Rebels.”

  They snickered. “Who else did you suppose claimed the Blood Woods?” Dravon asked.

  I had not known the Blood Woods had been claimed. Nor did I know that the rebels had infiltrated this much of Tenovia. The information we’d built our plans around had been dated. Not much news traveled as far east as Father Garius’s monastery.

  This, specifically, would have been noteworthy.

  Despite my surprise I squared my upside-down shoulders. “I didn’t suppose anyone claimed the Blood Woods. I supposed they were as wild and uninhabited as always, left to the ghosts and savage beasts that have always occupied this corner of Denamon.”

  “Desperate times, m’lady,” Eret sneered. “The rebel army has made allies with the ghosts of the Blood Woods. We live in peaceful harmony among the vicious beasts and reclusive pagans. Some might even say we’re fighting the same war.”

  “And what war would that be?” My voice did not waver despite my panic. “As far as I know the realm is at peace.”

  “Then you do not know much, trespasser.” The man leaned toward me. “Where are you from that you don’t know of the whispers of war and conquests of the Rebel Army?”

  I clamped my mouth shut and shot him my most defiant glare.

  “And what have we here?” A new voice boomed.

  “Arrick,” the two men said at once. Eret moved back several steps and bowed his head low out of respect.

  I turned and shared a look with Oliver while the rope creaked from the branches above. The new man walked around us slowly. Until he hovered over me, watching intently.

  I felt Oliver start praying next to me. His low mumbles turned into familiar chants. Oliver only started his incantations when he was in particular trouble.

  “They claim to have no money,” Eret announced for us. “And that they did not know there was to be a toll expected of them.”

  “Is that so?” The new man, Arrick, murmured. He leaned down so that he could take stock of my face even while his remained hidden behind a hood.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, desperately searching for courage. When I opened them, I found myself staring into startling bright blue eyes framed by thick lashes. He pulled back at once and his face was covered in shadow again. “But alas,” his hand swept over my forehead, pulling at something dangling there, “I’ve found something after all.”

  He yanked and the chain around my neck snapped free. He’d taken the necklace I’d been wearing ever since Father Garius had returned it to me.

  White hot fury blinded me. “Give it back,” I demanded.

  He was silent for a minute, staring at the necklace now resting in his palm. Finally, he declared a steely, “No.” His haughty tone ensured his death.

  “Now,” I insisted.

  Ignoring me, he pulled his hood back so he could better inspect the pendants. With a quick turn of his head and flash of teeth, he smiled at me, although it looked all wrong from where I hung. “This is a very rare piece,” he noted. “Wherever did you get it?”

  “From the pits of Denamon. It’s cursed. You’d better give it back to me before your hands turn to ash and your manhood melts.”

  “What threats,” he grinned. He looked to his fellow bandits. “She’s a feisty one, isn’t she? If she hadn’t walked into your traps, I dare say you might have had a fight on your hands.”

  “Give it to me or you’ll regret laughing,” I hissed.

  He stared at me for a long while, taking in my upside-down features. Then, seeming to find me lacking in some way, he swept out his foot and kicked my satchel, then Oliver’s, over to his friends. “Take them both,” he ordered. “Who knows what other cursed objects we’ll find inside.”

  “I shall hunt you down,” I called after him as they started to walk away. “You shall rue the day you stole something from me!”

  Arrick glanced back with a smirk, his hood covering every part of his face but that bloody smile. “That shall be hard to do,” he laughed. “Since more than likely the savage beasts that roam these parts will find you before help does.”

  The three men disappeared into the shadows of the forest while Oliver and I hung helplessly in midair. I let out a scream of frustration that followed after them when I couldn’t.

  As soon as they were gone, Oliver stopped praying. I turned to him. “Now what?”

  But he had already started moving. His rope swung back and forth, creaking in protest, while he lifted his torso up until he could reach into his boot. He managed to grab a small dagger before dropping back down again.

  “Wherever did that come from?” I asked. It would have been nice to know he had a plan.

  “It didn’t seem prudent before.”

  “Prudent?” I couldn’t believe him! “He stole my necklace, Oliver! My satchel! Please explain the definition of prudency to me because clearly I don’t understand it!”

  He paused in his strained efforts to cut his legs free from the thick rope holding him aloft. “I could hardly fight off three men with a dagger of this size, while you hung there like a damsel in distress, now could I? Better to let them think they’ve gotten away with something so we can follow after them.”

  He had a point.

  I hated it when he had a point.

  “Fine,” I conceded. “But hurry up!”

  He gave me another weary glare before he got to work on his legs once more. In no time he’d cut himself down, landing with a thud on the blanket of leaves and mud below. In another few minutes he’d cut me free and I’d collected myself from the ground. Slower than I would have liked, I worked feeling back into my legs and cleared my head of the dizziness as my blood returned to its natural course.

  I leapt to my sword, which the rebels had left behind, and Oliver did the same. The blades appeared weak and poorly made. Which was the intention of the Brothers that fashioned them. And probably the reason the rebels hadn’t bothered to take them.

  “This was not how I envisioned our peaceful quest back to your homeland,” he admitted.

  “Are you ready, Oliver the Silent?”

  He nodded. “Your satchel is necessary. I shall do what I must.”

  “Then prepare to get bloody.”

  7

  Although we had managed to lose ourselves in the maze of the Tellekane Forest, we were not totally inept at tracking. The Brothers had been relentless in our training and our schooling had gone far beyond bookish learning.

  The Brotherhood of Silence was proficient in three areas of discipline: Scholarship, self-discipline, and weaponry, with an emphasis on espionage. Heprin was a peaceful country without a national army. Yet, the Brotherhood and their unyielding training ensured that the country was not entirely defenseless.

  And even if we hadn’t been proficient in tracking, it wouldn’t have taken long for us to catch up with the three rebels. They were not exactly quiet as they tromped through the woods singing their own praises.

  I moved with all the stealth I was capable of as I trailed Oliver closely. His nickname had been earned for a reason. Oliver had the uncanny ability to move without making a sound.

  The closer we got to the bandits, the faster my heart beat. My breath quickened, catching every once in a while as I attempted to even it out.

  This would be my first real encounter with combat. I had trained since the day Father Garius had taken over my charge. But I had never fought anyone that didn’t have my best interest in mind.

  We followed at a safe distance behind the rebels, carefully picking our way closer so we could strike. We moved deeper into the forest, sliding around trees as thick as houses and over snaking roots,

  When the temperature dropped enough to pull goose flesh from my skin, I let my nerves ring their warning bells in my head. Had we gone too far? Should we have made our move sooner?

  �
��Psst!”

  Oliver glared back at me, but I held my ground with wide eyes. “Enough!” I mouthed. I gave a pointed look at the men laughing at their good fortune in the distance. “We need to finish this,” I whispered. “Now.”

  He looked up gauging our surroundings, the thickening fog and the three rebels. He nodded once and we crept closer to our prey.

  We slunk between the trees, pressing our backs against the giant trunks before slithering around to swiftly move to the next one. My feet faltered as the distance started to take on a bizarre shape. Dark figures loomed as tall as the trees. Giants?

  The fog rose, blanketing the strange outlines from my view. I shook my head and moved forward. The men were stepping into the denseness as if they knew a secret passage. It seemed to be a doorway of sorts.

  Oliver rubbed his eyes, no doubt wondering at the strange sight.

  The three men were speaking to each other in lower voices now. “I’ll catch up with you,” the one called Arrick told them.

  The two other men said their goodbyes and stepped into the fog. Arrick bent down to refasten a buckle on my satchel.

  “Now,” Oliver ordered.

  And we made our move. Rushing forward with all the skill and stealth we’d been trained to use, we came upon the thief. Oliver stood at his left, while my blade tip touched the side of his neck.

  He started in surprise, jerking upright with my blade following easily. When he tried to step away from me, Oliver’s sword was there to stop him. I held my weapon at his throat and glared at the shadow where his face hid behind his hood with every ounce of hatred and frustration boiling inside of me.

  “I told you I would come for what’s mine.”

  His shoulders squared. “You look different from this angle.”

  I wanted to spit on his shoes, but instead I arched a brow and demanded, “My satchel.”

  His head dipped, focusing on his hip where the pack in question rested. “Did you know there is something alive inside?” I opened my mouth to protest, but before I could utter a sound he’d produced Shiksa. “Wherever did you find a fox this shade? I’ve never seen one so completely white.”