Green Wild (Thrones of the Firstborn Book 2) Read online

  She straightened her spine and forced herself to release Seandri. He caught at her hand as she pulled away. “Jer, you’re fine—”

  But she shook her head and stepped away from him. She’d hurt him more. She’d pull him in. All she had to do was walk out, walk back to her inn, and she’d be fine. She had to do it, before she lost control of her mouth again and triggered something terrible. Before she ruined everything.

  Seandri let her go, but Yithiere caught her arm. “What is it?” he demanded.

  “You’re right,” she began. “They’re all—” And she caught herself. “I need to get out of here.” She knew, distantly, that she should mount a summoned steed again, whirl it around dramatically and canter out of the inn. Her departure should be victorious. Stumbling out like she’d become ill was ignoble and damaging.

  But setting Yithiere to kill them all would be more damaging.

  She made it to the street, the sound of the Justiciars’ laughter cutting through the noise of the crowd to sink into her brain. She covered her ears and ran.

  Chapter 10

  The View Through a Heart

  TWO DAYS AFTER the storm, Kiar finished reading the books she’d borrowed. Well. She finished rereading them. She finished the first time huddled in the farmer’s barn, sitting against a dairy cow’s stall and reading by Logos light. By four days after the storm she’d studied them enough that she knew there was no point in going through them yet again.

  That meant she had nothing to do but brood about unpleasant things, and play with the Logos. Boredom was an unfamiliar experience for her, but riding by endless fields of broccoli and cabbage day after day introduced her to the idea.

  Twist hadn’t caught up with them yet, which was... annoying. That was the best word. Troubling, worrying, nerve-wracking, why hadn’t he found them? Was he all right? Would he bring her more books? Had she finally utterly alienated him?

  Annoying. That was definitely the word.

  Thinking about the enemy was no better. She kept seeing the way the armored andani’s eyes had changed, and wondering if it was still inside her somewhere. No, those weren’t good traveling thoughts either.

  Even Lisette wasn’t as companionable as Kiar would have expected. She had the uncomfortable suspicion that both Lisette and Tiana were chatting with the fiend, which made her feel peculiarly left out. She didn’t even want the damn fiend in her head, and he wasn’t good for her friends, either.

  The books were useless, too. They kept her busy but they didn’t provide a single answer. The Light of the Firstborn was mentioned occasionally, as something that would come ‘someday’ when Ceria had ‘urgent need’.

  It was nice, she thought in irritation, to know you were living in prophesied times. It would have been nicer if they’d told her where the Lights could be found.

  “The road is turning here,” said Tiana, stopping her mount. “Slowly, but really turning. I can tell. Where’s a map?”

  Kiar dug around in her saddlebags for the map she’d acquired when they bought their remounts the day before at a horse fair. They’d picked up a pair of adventurous stable girls there, too, because, as one of the stable girls had said acidly, they were all rubbish at doing more than basic horse care. “Yes,” she said, unrolling it and looking. “You’re right.”

  “The pull isn’t turning.” Tiana pursed her mouth.

  Kiar gazed at the fields of, oh, look, it was cauliflower now, and then studied the map again. “There’s a river ahead,” she explained.

  Lisette leaned over from her horse to look at the map and said, “I know where we’re going.”

  “Good,” said Kiar. “I’m glad somebody does.” She scowled at the river. “We have to stay on the road unless you want to ford the river, Tiana.”

  “What if we miss it?” Tiana put a knuckle to her mouth to chew on it.

  “Then it’s very close and we’ll be able to find it by sweeping the area. Do you think we’re close?”

  “I don’t know,” wailed Tiana. “How would I know? I just know I’m being pulled, and if I think about it too much I get confused. I have to shut down and just drift.”

  “I think we’re going to Fel Dion,” continued Lisette, talking determinedly as if nobody else had said anything. “The forest of Fel Dion, I mean. It’s associated with Atalya in some old stories.”

  Kiar looked down at the map again. It was in the right direction, but almost all the way to the northwestern coast. “There’s a lot of land between here and there. A lot of estates. Tons of shrines to Atalya, if we’re assuming we’re looking for a place dedicated to her.” Atalya worship wasn’t centralized like the worship of Niyhan and Keldera. Instead local priestesses organized village festivals and trained the heirs to their shrines.

  “I’ve been remembering stories all day,” said Lisette stubbornly. “I’m sure that’s where we’re going.”

  Kiar shrugged and folded the map again. “Well, it’s unlikely to be farther unless it’s under the ocean. Let’s at least stay on the road until we cross the river, Tiana.”

  Tiana sighed, but nudged her horse into motion again. Berrin rode up to join Kiar and Lisette saying, “I beg you’ll forgive me, but I hope you’re wrong, my lady. I’ve heard bad things about Fel Dion.”

  Lisette looked at him in surprise. “There are stories of a place sacred to her deep within the forest. Legends I read as a little girl. She emerged from the wood when the world was young to guide us. She protected the innocent who came there. And there’s a story about a sleeping prince who—”

  “Every forest has that story,” interrupted Kiar. “That orchard the other day probably had that story. Roots of trees are a good place to hide things, even princes.” She’d found a fiend hiding in a root hollow once. It hadn’t been a dream come true.

  Lisette’s brow furrowed. “Really? Oh. But we’re headed straight for Fel Dion, if you look at the map.”

  “The stories I’ve heard are definitely about Fel Dion,” said Berrin. “And of more recent origin than the nursery tales, and from closer to the forest. Dark stories that imply dark and deadly things.” He paused for effect. “Human sacrifice, for example.”

  Kiar snorted. “That’s a step up from simply stealing children, which is what I heard about Fel Dion. I never believed it.”

  Berrin shrugged. “The stories always reference one particular legend. I could tell the tale, though a storyteller I’m not.”

  “Please,” said Lisette earnestly.

  Kiar noticed a twinkle in Berrin’s eyes before his dark brows swooped down to hood his eyes. “Here is what I’ve heard, from the village of Sinethca, on the edge of Fel Dion. Once it was a flowered meadow where Atalya held court with her handmaidens. But when a great fiend came out of the forest and carried her off while her handmaidens fled, she cursed them, binding them to the meadow until she pardoned them. One by one, they took husbands among the heroes who came to rescue Atalya, and for one reason or another, none ever ventured deep enough into the forest to find her. That’s how the village came to be. But for Atalya herself, she was imprisoned by thorny branches and plaits of children’s’ hair, and guarded jealously by the fiend or his servant, a giant raven. She convinced the thorns to soften themselves with blossoms, and the knotted hair to smooth itself out, but she couldn’t escape the raven’s gaze, for it loved to look at her shining hair. Finally, she sheared her hair and used it to adorn a mannequin of herself. Thus hidden from the raven, she fled the forest. She passed through Sinethca in the night and did not stop to pardon her handmaids, because she didn’t approve of the way they settled.”

  Slater, riding close at hand, said, “I heard she did stop but they didn’t recognize her without her hair, and laughed her out of the village.”

  Berrin gave the other soldier an unfriendly look and continued without acknowledgement, “Later, the fiend brought the mannequin of Atalya to life and sent it to torment the villagers. And so it goes to this day. The fiends of the forest steal children,
eat them, and don their skins to torment the family of the lost child. And the villagers punish any fiend they can capture.”

  Slater said, “I thought Atalya herself asked them to hunt down the mannequin and destroy it, and others like it?”

  Tiana tore her gaze away from the road. “That doesn’t sound very much like the Atalya I know about. I was always told Atalya had golden hair.” She sighed and touched her own black-brown hair. “And I read that she made dogs by distilling everything good out of the wolves in a forest. And that she was the first tamed falcon on a prince’s arm.”

  There was a speculative silence for a moment and then Lisette said wistfully, “Atalya has always been my favorite of the Firstborn. When I was little, I used to wish she’d come play with me. She always seemed so... sweet and gentle.”

  Berrin said, “Hah, and that’s why we chased her when we were little. Well, my sister pretending to be her. No offense to your ladyship.”

  Indignant, Lisette said, “You chased her? To do what?”

  Berrin shrugged and grinned, unabashed. “Rub mud in her hair, usually. What else do you do when a girl runs from you in the spring and you’re eight years old? That’s what we thought the point of Maidrunning was.”

  “You—you—” Lisette struggled to find words, her face flushing. Kiar hid a snicker behind her hand.

  Then the world yawned around her and her amusement vanished. The Logos twisted and snapped, like the ache of an unexpected cramp.

  Slater noticed and moved closer to steady her. She muttered, “A sky fiend, somewhere close. I think it just arrived.” She closed her eyes and focused herself as best she could. “We should deal with it, before it serves as a gateway for other enemies.”

  Tiana moved her healing arm restlessly., “This is ridiculous. Distracting us is as bad as stopping us, if he does it enough.”

  Kiar frowned. “We can’t let more of them just wander the countryside if we can stop it. The soldiers are bad enough but if he releases something like the plague beast...” She shuddered and tangled her fingers in Spooky’s mane. “Better we strike now.”

  “I’ll do it, stormy weather,” said Cathay abruptly. He’d been so quiet during the earlier discussion of Fel Dion that Kiar had assumed he was asleep. “I’ll take Kiar and a few of the guards and deal with it, and then we can catch up.”

  “And what if it’s another ambush?” asked Slater.

  Tiana hesitated, looking at Cathay. Then she shook her head. “Kiar’s right. So is Slater. Temporarily splitting up won’t help. I just...” She shook her head and passed her hand over her chest. “I’m sorry. Can you tell where?”

  Kiar whispered to the Logos, and then said, “On a huge rock left behind by ice, a galloping from here in the direction of the Citadel.” She made a face. “Cabbage grows around it.”

  Tiana’s shoulders slumped. “I’ve been trying not to think about the cabbage.” Begrudgingly, she turned her horse, and then urged him into a run. Spooky stomped his feet and shook his head, and Kiar let him have his head until he’d taken the lead from Tiana’s Moon. Then Kiar led the way down the road and between fields until they arrived at the source of the Logos quivering.

  They dismounted at the edge of the cabbage field, leaving the horses with a pair of guards and the new stable girls. The stable girls immediately started fussing over the horses and one of them said loudly to the other, “They’ll need a bit of a rest now.”

  Tiana paused at Kiar’s side, Jinriki naked in her hand, and said quietly, “Jinriki wants to examine one while it’s actively connected to the other world. He wants to see if he can understand how to cut the connection permanently. He wants to free them if he can, from Ohedreton, and from their madness.” She hesitated. “He said you’d know what he meant.”

  Kiar did. She knew exactly what he meant. She chewed her lip, thinking about Jinriki’s ulterior motives. “Do you want another one around?”

  Tiana shrugged. “I don’t know. They scare me right now. But... they used to be like Jinriki, like the Secondborn in stories. This is a horrible fate.”

  Like the Secondborn. Kiar’s gaze dropped to the blade in Tiana’s hand, and thought about that. It was more flattering to fiends than she liked, and more frightening. Jinriki alone was proof that encountering something out of stories wasn’t anything to be wished for.

  Carefully, she said, “I don’t trust him, Tiana. The fiend you fought the other day, the one he was so determined to destroy that he ate it—it was one of the ones he released—”

  “I know,” interrupted Tiana, her fingers white-knuckled around Jinriki’s hilt. Her gaze searched Kiar’s face in a scared, needy way that made Kiar want to hug her tight and put a shield around them both. “I know he’s not.... safe. But he’s on our side. He’s trustworthy that far.”

  “I don’t know if he is. He’s wild and chaotic and selfish, Tiana.’

  Tiana’s face closed off. “So am I, if it comes to that. Believe me. You trust me, don’t you?”

  Kiar didn’t know how to answer. She was silent for a moment, maybe too long. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  “Consider it logistically,” said Tiana, and Kiar could tell Jinriki prompted. “If we can destroy whatever binds them to Ohedreton’s world, at the very least we’ve cut off a method for moving troops around swiftly. We may even gain more; if they return to their senses, they will obey Jinriki and swell our own ranks. And they need not travel with us to do so. They could serve as messengers...” Tiana shook her head. “Can’t you just talk to her directly?” She paused and scowled. “He says you’ve never touched him. That doesn’t matter with those trained to obey but he can’t do that with you.”

  “Good. I’ve seen what he’s done to people who touch him,” said Kiar dryly.

  Tiana glared down at the blade. “He’s behaving now. But I don’t blame you.”

  Kiar sighed and rubbed her nose. She looked at Cathay and Lisette, both close enough to hear. Lisette was grave, expressionless, while Cathy only shrugged. Kiar said, “I do understand what he wants, anyhow. I’ll see what I can do. It’s better than him eating another one. That can’t go anywhere good.” She turned and regarded the fiend’s den.

  A huge stone jutted out of the other side of the cabbage field, twice the height of a man at its peak, and half again as long. It was gently rounded except the top, where it hollowed and rose like a giant soup spoon.

  “There’s something in there,” said Cathay. Kiar could just make it out, some sort of creature flattened against the surface of the rock.

  She glanced around, her senses twanging. “No eidolon folk yet, I think.”

  Tiana said, “What should we do? Jinriki says we have to follow your instructions and, once you have it controlled, he’ll investigate curing its madness.”

  Kiar blinked. Suddenly everybody was looking at her. “Um. I’d like to uh, interact with it on the ground. Maybe if we can get it down and over to me?”

  Tiana nodded, and Slater barked out instructions to his men. They spread out in a circle around the big stone. Kiar added, “It hasn’t attacked yet so... I don’t think it’s ready to fight. They don’t seem to be aggressive when they’re... um... serving as a door.”

  From the other side of the stone, Cathay said, “I’m going up.” A moment later, he bounded up the side of the pinnacle, emanations supporting and balancing him, and eidolon claws gripping the stone. “Ugh,” he announced. “It’s part human.” He poked at it with his sword. “Move it, fiend. We’re not any worse than what you’re already doing.”

  Nothing happened. Then an arm swiped at Cathay, pushing his sword away, and the creature yowled. The sword swerved as Cathay leaned back away from the stone, twisting with an almost inhuman grace “Some talons there. You’ll want to reach it before it reaches you, Kiar.” He made a shoving motion with his free hand, and the yowl turned into a squeal as something skittered off the top of the rock.

  It was a warped lion, with the nose and eyes and arms of man. Tho
se human hands were tipped with translucent ivory claws that Kiar saw all too well as it staggered towards her, unable to walk like a man or a cat. Slater said something and the guards circled behind it, their own swords unsheathed but still. It stumbled to a halt, its head turning slowly. It growled at the armed men behind it and then turned back to Kiar, who held no weapon at all. Its sleek golden hind legs crouched and its tail twitched, which was cat enough to be creepy.

  Kiar shifted her weight, bracing herself. She muttered to the Logos, staring at the sky fiend. Fingers of air stroked the monster’s fur in response. She searched for what she thought of as the soft spot, the place where the eidolons would be born when it was ready to birth them.

  It flattened its ears further and slitted those human eyes. Then, like a striking snake, it leapt.

  Even braced, Kiar was caught off-guard. She ducked instinctively, putting her arms over her head. But even as she ducked, she searched: looking, looking. There it was, on the sky fiend’s belly. It was soaring over her, right there. She straightened up so fast that she almost lost her balance. Windmilling her other arm, she stretched out and her fingers just barely brushed the soft spot. But just barely was all she needed.

  Her fingers sank into the cool space beyond the fiend and she opened herself to the world on the other side. When she opened her eyes, she stood on a plateau in the eidolon world. She could feel the invisible substance of the fiend around her left hand and knew that once again, she was somehow in two places at once.

  She turned. Above her loomed an enormous silhouette of Tiana, streaming with blue light. She drifted closer to it, wondering why it was here. She’d seen it on her previous peeks, but never so close. The plateau was otherwise barren, as if the light had scoured away all the strange vegetation and mobile life forms she’d encountered on previous visits. The intense light reminded her of the skies of Ceria. It was beautiful.