Brightly Woven Page 3

  “Information that said they would overtake Cliffton and wait out the two-month deadline before invading the rest of Palmarta,” North snapped, catching my hands. “Listen to me! Saldorra is taking over the western villages and blocking all communication between them and the capital so the Wizard Guard and the queen won’t know their soldiers are invading from the west. Auster isn’t responsible for killing the king, and if I can convince the wizards of that, they’ll call our own war plans off! That’s why your father told us to go, because we can tell them! I have the proof they’ll need to believe us—letters, maps, everything. I need you to come with me, though, in case something happens and I can’t get there myself. I need you.”

  I shook my head, struggling to pull away. The wind was picking up around us, howling through every crack and crevice of the mountain pass.

  “You’re a wizard,” I cried. “Can’t you do anything?”

  “There’s nothing you or I could do against that many men,” North said. “Any sign of rebellion and they’ll burn the village to ashes. Westfield already suffered that fate, and I won’t risk more innocent lives.”

  “You mean your life!” I cried. “You won’t risk your life!”

  I cast my eyes to the familiar landscape below. The villagers remained huddled together as the soldiers continued to rip through the streets, taking livestock, blankets, anything of value. There would be nothing left in a place that already had so little.

  What were wizards if they couldn’t protect the powerless? I had heard the story of their inception thousands of times, in temple and at home. In the great competition deciding which goddess would have authority over men, Astraea had granted the chosen people of our country, Palmarta, the magic to defeat the evils of the world, while her sister, Salvala, had merely given swords to her people, the citizens of Auster, Saldorra, Ruttgard, Libanbourg, and Bellun. When only the wizards were capable of defeating the wicked dragons and sinister men, they became Palmarta’s champions. Their purpose was to protect us, even against the worst of odds.

  “You said before that you had no choice,” North said. “But here’s one right in front of you. You can go back down to your people and suffer quietly with them, but if do, you really will be trapped there, with no relief. It’ll be at least a month and a half before I get to the capital, and longer before the Wizard Guard can come to help you.”

  “Trapped with them or trapped with you—” I began.

  “Not forever,” he said. Something hard and unbearable had wedged itself in my throat. “If you help me get to the capital, I swear on everything good in this world that after we deliver the information, I’ll take you anywhere you want to go. It will be your choice.”

  It was happening too quickly, with no time for good-byes, for lingering last looks. Was it possible that only yesterday it had rained for the first time in years, that people had been singing and dancing instead of crying and screaming? Now the rain was gone again, leaving behind only a fine gray haze, and the only thing left for me was to go with the wizard.

  It was a cruel twist of fate, I thought, finally to have the chance to see the world beyond Cliffton but only in the worst, the most terrifying of times.

  “Why did you pick me?”

  North picked up my bag and loom, helping me to my feet.

  “Why me?” I repeated over the deafening wind. “You could have had anyone!”

  “Yes,” he said, taking one last look at the village below. “But I only need you.”

  The sun hadn’t fully arched into the sky when we found the first soldier. I don’t know why I hadn’t expected to find them lurking up in the mountain passes, waiting to see if they could catch an escaped villager or a traveler trying foolishly to enter the valley.

  North saw him a moment before I caught the flash of the arrow tip, strung on the scout’s bow. There was a chance the scout hadn’t seen us at all, but North yanked me back against him. For a moment, I thought he meant to use me as a shield, but the force of it sent us stumbling behind the nearest rock formation in a tangled heap. I pressed my hand against my mouth.

  I glanced around one side of the rocks, searching for some path I recognized. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw North rise to his knees, his green cloak in one hand.

  “Don’t you dare!” I hissed. “If you use magic against that scout, you’ll call the rest of them to us.”

  “It’s the only choice we have,” he said. “We can run for it in all the confusion.”

  “What’s so confusing about a wizard using magic?” I asked. “They’re likely looking for you, and if you do this, you might as well paint the targets on our backs.”

  “If you’re going to knock down my suggestion, you’d better have one to replace it.” The irritation was plain on his face.

  I glanced around the side of the rock again. The path we were on was one Henry and I had used many times before, but instead of going left, toward the caverns, North had taken us right. We needed to get back to the caverns unnoticed.

  “Can you distract him?” I whispered. “Just for a moment? He needs to turn his back on us.”

  “Oh, so now you require my services?” he asked humorlessly, and brought up the same yellow cloak I had mended the night before.

  “Not too much,” I warned.

  The gust of wind that emerged kicked up the loose rocks and dirt, and the scout staggered backward. He didn’t turn, but it was all the distraction we needed. I grabbed a fistful of North’s cloaks and dragged him after me. Our boots slid against the mud as we ran, and I didn’t dare look back as we cut through every rock formation and crack in the earth I could find. I thought I heard the call of a horn behind us, and North’s arm tensed as he tried to slow me down. It was the only way we could slip out unnoticed, though we would waste hours crawling through the caverns.

  The wizard had some difficulty sliding down through the cavern’s entrance, and in any other situation I might have laughed at the way his feet struggled to find purchase against the slick rocks.

  Henry and I had used the caverns as a way to escape the heat. We had spent days down in the darkness, feeling our way when our eyes failed us. Once, I had hoped to find a hidden pool of water, like the one in my storybooks—but now all I needed was a safe route to the northern road.

  There was a thud behind me, followed by a string of curses so violent it made my ears burn.

  “Careful,” I whispered, glad for the darkness that hid my smile. North crept up beside me, one gloved hand clutching his forehead, the other still holding our bags and my loom.

  “Rotting good path you’ve found us,” he whispered furiously. After that, there was nothing but the echo of dripping water to mark time.

  I wished someone had thought to pack me a pair of gloves to keep the rocks from cutting my hands. The skirt of my dress was soaked through with the rainwater that had collected in the cavern overnight, but I kept us moving downward, deeper into the water.

  “We’ll be swimming soon,” North said. “You should have just let me use magic—!”

  “Here,” I cut him off. My hands had found the gap in the dark stone I had been searching for. I pressed my body between its narrow walls. The exact moment I caught the first hint of sunlight, I felt for North’s arm to make sure he was still behind me.

  The path had widened, giving me a clear view. I scanned the rocks above, searching for a glint of metal or scarlet. When I was sure it was safe, I pulled us both free from the darkness.

  Once he saw where we were, North tried to take control of the situation, turning to run in the very same direction from which we had come.

  “North!” I said, as loudly as I dared. “This way!”

  He kept his eyes on the path before him.

  “We just came that way,” I said. “Honestly, do you have no sense of direction whatsoever?”

  North bristled. “How was I supposed to know? The mountains are all the same! For all you know, my way could work, too.”

  “The West
wood road runs west to east, not north to south, wise one,” I whispered, checking to make sure no one was within earshot. “It’s the main road to the eastern coast. If we want to get out of these mountains, we need to find it.”

  “And how in the seven hells would you know that?” North asked, blocking my path with his arm. “You said you’ve never left Cliffton.”

  “Because one day I wanted to take that road out of Cliffton.” I shoved his arm out of my way. “Unlike you, I actually bothered to learn how to read maps and what roads lead to where.”

  North was quiet for a moment. “So…if one wanted to, let’s say, go to Dellark…how would one do that?”

  “Just be quiet and follow me, all right?” I shook my head and began to pray as I started down the path.

  By the time we broke through the Sasinou Mountains’ endless maze of sharp brown stone two days later, my feet had gone numb and my back was hunched under the weight of my bag. North had found a way to throw the loom over his shoulder, for which I was grateful. I wasn’t sure I could carry anything else.

  I leaned forward, trying to balance the weight of my bag with the lightness in my head. It was a mistake. My vision spotted with black and colors. Henry had told me once it took him and his father two days to reach Dellark, but I had hoped to get there faster.

  The path down into the valley was steeper than I had originally thought, and I was forced to take small, steady steps in order not to fall the rest of the way down. The frame of my loom rattled and railed within its tight restraints; it was the only sound I could hear above my harsh breathing.

  The sun was sinking behind us, the lingering heat on our backs no more than a painful reminder of what I was leaving behind. I had no eyes for the red flowers growing amid the tall grass or the river winding lazily across the land.

  “Are you sure I can’t carry your bag for you awhile?” North asked, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Your loom doesn’t weigh much at all.”

  I whirled around so quickly I nearly lost my balance. North saw, of course, and his hands flashed out to steady me. His fingers weren’t on my arms for more than a moment before I pushed him away as hard as I could.

  “Don’t touch me,” I said. “You want to help me? Go back and force the soldiers out of Cliffton!”

  He tried to pull the bag from my shoulders, but I held on to it.

  “Syd,” he said calmly. “Be reasonable. I know it’s heavy. Please, let me take it for a while.”

  “Are you hard of hearing?” I asked, the words coming out in a furious storm. “Leave me alone!”

  North held up his hands in surrender, and we spent the next few hours in silence, with only the sound of the bugs in the tall grass and the dim lights of a distant city to guide us. The moon was under a cover of clouds, which didn’t make navigating through the fields any easier.

  With my eyes on the city ahead, I didn’t see the hole at my feet. I did, however, feel it as my body careened forward and the ground rushed up to meet me. My chin came down hard against the ground as my fall knocked the air from my lungs. I wasn’t sure how long I was on the ground, but I couldn’t pull myself back up, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

  North’s heavy boots came shuffling toward me.

  “Don’t,” I protested weakly.

  His hands lifted me to my knees and released me just as quickly. He removed the bag from my shoulders and placed it over his own. I felt better immediately, but it didn’t stop the hot tears that spilled onto my cheeks all the way to Dellark.

  Somewhere amid all his ramblings, North had mentioned that Dellark was a major port on the river. I saw several wooden ships, but mainly I saw bridges, dozens of them, maybe even hundreds. The bridges over the river were wood, rising and falling with the passing ships. Those that rose over the streams branching from the river were smaller, built from the same old gray stone as the buildings. It was an intricate network—a maze, truly.

  Above us, the purple banners of Palmarta were flapping in the evening’s breeze. North and I crossed two of the larger bridges before I stopped outside a grim-looking tavern. The sign hanging above it had rotted to the point that the wording on it was indecipherable…but I had to stop. If I moved one more step, I was sure I would collapse.

  “I have a little money if you want to sleep inside tonight…,” he began.

  “Here,” I said.

  “Fine.” North pushed the door open, his dark hair hiding his face. He looked filthy, but I probably looked worse. It only made me despise him more.

  North dropped our bags down at the only free table and headed straight for the large blond man behind the bar. I dropped down into my chair and rested my head against the table. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t throb with exhaustion. Barely able to keep my eyes open, I hardly noticed the uproar of laughter and song. On the wall opposite me were two portraits, one of the king when he was still young and beautiful, and the other of the fair-haired, blue-eyed Queen Eglantine.

  My eyes drifted shut against my will, but I couldn’t slip into sleep. The smell of a pipe from across the room instantly recalled dinners at Henry’s house, his father puffing rings of smoke to amuse the twins. Was it possible…?

  I brought my head up to see where the smoke was coming from, looking past North at the bar, around the animal heads and dead fish mounted on the walls to a far, dark corner. The man smoking the pipe wore a pale overcoat and a hat that covered his eyes. It wasn’t Henry’s father—of course not—it was just my stupid mind playing tricks. As if sensing my gaze, the man leaned forward in his seat and gave me a slight nod. For a moment, it looked as though he would stand.

  A plate slammed down in front of me. I glanced at the shreds of meat and pile of vegetables and pushed the plate away.

  “This is all he had left for the night,” North said, settling across the table. “Sorry it’s not much.”

  He had his own plate, strangely less full than mine, and two pints, both for him, I realized. He downed one in a single swig and reached for the next.

  “You know,” he continued, “I get that you’re angry. I know you don’t want to be here with me, but you not eating isn’t punishing me. You can starve yourself all you want, but it won’t do anything other than slow us down.”

  “Why did you bring me, then, if you knew I was only going to hold you back?” I asked.

  North glanced up at the ceiling.

  “Tell me,” I said, leaning back in my chair.

  “I don’t know. Perhaps I thought that burning hatred in your eyes would give way to some faster walking?” North stood up to refill his pints. “I just wanted a lovely assistant?”

  “Don’t you mean slave?” I called after him.

  He glanced over his shoulder. “Assistant, though, if you’d prefer…”

  He was right not to finish that thought.

  I waited until his back was to me before I looked down at my plate again, my heart fighting with my stomach. I would eat it, I thought, but only because I needed to be strong enough to keep going tomorrow. We still had an entire country to cross.

  Looking up to make sure he wasn’t watching, I brought a spoonful of vegetables to my mouth and didn’t stop eating until the plate had been cleared. And even then, I was still hungry.

  North had had only four pints, or at least four pints that I had seen, when he lurched forward in his seat.

  “Syyyyd,” he whined. I turned my head away sharply, disgust settling in my stomach like a rock. The man in the pale overcoat was still there, hours later. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, trying to dodge his gaze.

  An hour later, the tavern still throbbed with life and offkey ballads, but my head just throbbed in pain. And North? He was singing at the top of his lungs in the midst of them all. His usually deep and melodic voice was hoarse by the time he collapsed back into his seat. Another man sent an appreciative pint his way, which I promptly poured out at his feet.

  It was like watching a man transform into some kind of be
ast, I thought. North’s unshaven face, usually lit with a carefree ease and an uneven grin, had taken on a pinched expression. The dark eyes that I once had thought kind, even intelligent, were glassy and framed with red. The sharp angles of his high cheekbones flushed pink with fits of laughter, which rang out loudly and unevenly over the deafening clamor.

  “Syd, Syd, Syd,” he said, shaking his head.

  “What?” I asked flatly. “Can we go up to our rooms yet?”

  “Rooms!” He laughed. “What makes you think I got more than one? I’m not a money bag, you know.”

  I sucked in a sharp breath. “That is completely inappropriate! It’s—It’s not proper, but apparently you wouldn’t know that. You wouldn’t know a moral if it slapped you in the face.”

  North leaned back in his chair, whispering conspiratorially to the man sitting behind him. “Not proper, she says. After everything we’ve been through!”

  The other man shook his head, as if he had been privy to our entire story. “You’ve caught yourself a cold fish, my friend,” he said, and the other men and women at his table laughed.

  North rocked forward in his chair again, narrowly missing my foot. He leaned—fell, really—across the table, reaching for my hands. I snatched them away immediately. The heat was rising in my face, no matter how many steadying breaths I took. I could hear my father’s voice in the back of my mind, whispering an old proverb. Of all things in life, forgiveness is the most difficult. If we can forgive, we can let go of the insidious anger that moves our souls to grief.

  It was the most difficult—too difficult.

  “Give me the key,” I said. “I’ll go upstairs by myself.” All I really wanted to do was weave myself into a mood that resembled calm. North dug around in his pockets for the key.

  He waved the thing through the air with great fanfare and ceremony before placing it in my hand. I closed my fist around it, wondering if I could lock him out.

  “If you want, Syd, you can share my…my…” North’s voice trailed off.