Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Read online

  In the shadows he saw Nierne sag against the wall, her head lolling to the side. He had forgotten about her. She had traveled as far as he had, but she did not have the stamina he did. He should have stopped hours ago.

  “We need to rest. Nierne is exhausted.” Lore placed a hand around Nierne’s waist and pulled her to his side. Her head fell across his shoulder.

  A fireball erupted inside Caleb, consuming him until all he could see was red. He wanted to pull Lore away from Nierne and dump the man on the ground.

  He breathed slowly through his nose and the jealousy faded, replaced with a bone-draining fatigue. “We can rest for a couple minutes. But morning is almost here and we are near the gates. I want to push on until we are out of the city, then we can rest.” He looked at Nierne. “Can you make it?”

  She nodded and staggered back up. “Yes.”

  Lore kept his hand on her waist. Caleb drew his lips into a thin line. Get your filthy hands—

  Caleb spun around. “Let’s go.”

  “But—”

  Caleb ignored Lore and started back down the alley. Red streaks spread across the sky above, and the darkness faded. One by one, the lamps were put out. After a couple more blocks, they reached the western gate. It was smaller than the main eastern gate, but taller than the surrounding two-story buildings. Already a crowd was forming at its base, waiting for the gates to open. Another crowd would be outside waiting to get in. Perfect time to leave.

  Caleb stopped beside a booth. Blue and white striped canvas hung above the stall. Clay pots lined the wooden counter, ranging from the size of his fist to a large melon. He could hear someone inside the booth.

  A gatehouse stood about fifty feet away, next to the gate. A man stood beside it, dressed in black with a yellow sash across his chest. A long, curved blade hung at his side. His gaze moved back and forth across the crowd.

  Caleb moved back into the shadows. He turned and faced Nierne and Lore. “Nierne, put your hood on.” Nierne nodded and reached for her hood. They didn’t need to attract any unwanted attention. And her hair would do just that.

  Lore folded his arms. “What’s the plan? If I were the captain of these Keepers, I would have a man stationed at every gate, checking the crowds.”

  “Yes, and I already spotted our man, the one dressed in black next to the gate.”

  Lore leaned over and looked. “Yes, I see him.”

  “Here’s what we’re going to do. You two will join the crowd out there waiting for the gates to open. Act like you belong here. Don’t stare at the Keeper, don’t make eye contact. Shuffle your feet, like these people are doing. And Lore, if you can cover your head, do so.”

  “What about you?” Nierne angled a look at Caleb while Lore untied the white scarf wrapped around his middle and brought it up to his head.

  “The Keepers are searching for me, not for you two. I will find another way.”

  Lore finished wrapping the scarf around his head until all that could be seen of him were his eyes.

  Caleb nodded, impressed. “You wrap your head like the nomadic tribes of the Great Desert. Who taught you to do that?”

  Lore paused, his eyes fixed on Caleb. “My contact here in Temanin. But I’m afraid I cannot give you his name. I gave him my word I would keep his identity a secret.”

  Caleb’s mind filtered through all the information brokers he knew, curious who Lore had worked with.

  Nierne frowned. “I don’t like us splitting up.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I know how to blend in with a crowd.” Caleb glanced past Nierne and watched the Keeper. “He will never know I was here. You two will make your way through the gate when it opens.” He brought his gaze back. “I will meet you on the other side.”

  “But what if you’re captured?”

  The concern on her face caught Caleb by surprise. When was the last time someone had been concerned about him? Corin had cared about him getting the job done and not being caught. Ailis had cared about what their relationship gave her. “Then I will have to deal with that. I don’t want you involved if that happens. That is why we are splitting up. If I’m caught, you and Lore will need to head to the coast and find a ship to Thyra.”

  The sky brightened and the haze of morning dissipated overhead. Far off, the long, low tones of horns sounded. Caleb glanced back at the gate. “It is time. The gates will be opening any moment.” He turned and looked at Lore. “Take care of her. There is a road sign posted not too far from the gates near the dunes. I will meet you there.”

  “And if you don’t show up?” Lore said.

  Caleb paused. “If the sun is high in the sky and I haven’t reached you by then, leave. It means I’ve been caught.”

  The horns blew again.

  Lore gave him a curt nod. “All right. Meet at the sign.” He glanced between Nierne and Caleb. “May the Word watch over us.”

  That was new.

  Lore and Nierne left the shadows of the alley. Caleb watched them. They joined the ever-growing throng pressing toward the gates. The gates eased open. Another Keeper stepped out from the gatehouse and joined the first Keeper. Both men moved their heads back and forth, searching the crowds.

  Now it was time for him to play his part.

  Caleb turned around and headed back down the alley. Years ago he learned that people’s prejudices and assumptions were his greatest ploy. The Keepers would be expecting someone who looked like a young, arrogant nobleman. He would become someone else.

  He went back a block to where a clothesline hung. A couple tunics, brown pants, and robes still dangled from the line. Good. No one had come out yet to retrieve the clothing.

  He chose a long faded brown robe and a light colored scarf. He pulled out his pouch and took a copper coin and tied it inside one of the other robes. With luck, the owner would find the money ample recompense for the missing clothing.

  Caleb hurried to a dark corner where two buildings buttressed up against each other. He pulled the robe on over his dark clothing. Then he took the scarf and wrapped one end around his head, the other end across his face, and tied the corners of both just above his right ear. All that could be seen were his eyes. But that still would not be enough. He needed to become someone different than Caleb Tala.

  At least he smelled different. The scent of dung still clung to his hands and boots. That would help. He looked around, but the corner was empty. He would have to improvise when he reached the gates.

  Caleb left the alley and walked along the street, his body bent forward. After a couple blocks, he reached the western gates. People were still making their way in and out, a congestion of humanity. The two Keepers stationed by the wall twisted their heads back and forth.

  Nearby, booths opened for the day. The closest one had fresh dates set out in ceramic bowls. Caleb pulled another coin out and handed it to the merchant behind the wooden counter and pointed to the dates.

  “Do you have something to carry them in?”

  Caleb shook his head. The man reached down behind his counter and retrieved a square of cloth. “That’ll be an extra copper.”

  Caleb fished out the coin and handed it to the merchant. The merchant measured out the dates and tied them up in the cloth. Caleb took the package and tucked it inside his robe.

  He headed back to the side street and watched the crowd. A smile slowly formed across his lips. If he kept his head down, he could probably pass without them seeing him. But just to be safe . . . He watched the crowd for a family he could join or a wagon he could follow.

  Ten minutes went by. Then fifteen. He could wait all day; he had the patience. But Nierne and Lore were wait—

  Someone bumped into him. Caleb caught himself and turned. The man was dressed all in black, his dark hair wavy and thick. He was almost as tall as Caleb, his face full of aristocratic arrogance. A dark skinned Hont stood be
hind him, dressed in a short white tunic, exposing the man’s muscular calves and arms. Probably his bodyguard.

  “Watch it, you —” The man finished with a foul word related to a dog.

  Caleb turned his gaze downward and bobbed his head in abject submission, all the while laughing inside. The nobleman had no idea who he was addressing. Or how he was going to help Caleb escape Azar.

  A wagon came rumbling along just as one of the Keepers gave a shout. Caleb fought the grin tugging at his lips. He left the man and, like a sand viper crossing the sand, smoothly made his way through the crowd, over to the wagon, keeping his head down.

  The Keepers shouted again. From the corner of his eye he watched them part the crowd and make their way over to the nobleman. The wagon kept right on rolling, Caleb with it. He placed a hand on its side, his whole demeanor projecting the image that he and the wagon belonged together.

  The nobleman shouted behind him. The Keepers shouted back. Caleb could not make out the words, but he could well imagine the scene in his mind: the nobleman threatening the Keepers, the Keepers threatening back.

  They approached the gates. People pressed in close, bumping into him. Caleb kept his head down and watched his step, his hand still on the wagon, letting it guide him through the gate. The driver didn’t seem to notice the extra passenger attached. He passed under the shadow left by the archway. A moment later, and he was outside the gates. Now free, the crowd scattered like a river bursting from a dam.

  The wagon angled south. Caleb let go and kept going west. Sand kicked up by the throng of travelers flew into the air, creating a whirlwind of dust. He pulled the lower half of his scarf closer to his mouth and nose and moved on.

  Heat waves shimmered above the brown hills that surrounded Azar. The sky was a pale blue with not a cloud in sight. Tufts of brown grass and dry, brittle bushes covered the landscape. A hare darted out from one of the bushes and bounded away.

  The heat of the desert slowly seeped into his clothing. It felt good now, but by mid-afternoon? Unbearable. He could handle it, but what about Nierne? She would need more than the cloak he had provided for her. That pale skin of hers would burn in the hot desert sun.

  Down the road, he spotted a caravan near the signpost he’d said he would meet Lore and Nierne at. A single tree grew a couple feet away. Beneath the tree were camels laden with heavy bags and bright blankets draped over their backs. Nearby were men dressed in long robes and headscarves. A couple women were filling waterskins at the well and three children ran around.

  Caleb squinted against the sun. Where were Lore and Nierne?

  He continued along the road and approached the caravan. The men looked up and nodded to him. He nodded back. He walked past the tree and camels.

  Lore and Nierne stood about twenty feet away, both with their heads covered. They seemed to be in deep conversation. Slowly he drew near.

  “You hate him, don’t you?”

  Nierne’s voice.

  Caleb stopped beside the last camel. They hadn’t spotted him yet. Probably thought he was part of the caravan.

  Lore looked down, then toward the hills. “I watched Caleb kill the lord I had loved and served since I was a young man. I watched my lord bleed out on the floor, and I could do nothing about it. I have killed before, to protect others. But only as a last resort, and with regret. What Caleb did was different. He is a murderer. I cannot forgive him for that.”

  Caleb stood as if chiseled from stone. He had never viewed himself through the eyes of another. It hurt. No wonder they hated him, distrusted him.

  “I understand.” It was Nierne’s turn to look away. “I also watched a man I loved killed.”

  She did? Caleb stared at her. He had never thought about Nierne loving a man before. Weren’t scribes above such things?

  Apparently not.

  So who was the man she had loved? How had he died? At least he hadn’t killed the man, or at least he hoped he hadn’t.

  Lore looked Caleb’s way, but didn’t seem to notice him. The camel slowly chewed its cud beside him. Nierne rubbed her forehead with the tips of two fingers.

  Would they want him if he were just traveling with them? If they didn’t need him to reach Thyra? He had always been needed before. But now?

  Caleb scowled. He wasn’t one to dwell on morose thoughts and he wouldn’t start now. There were things to do, and a long trip ahead of them across the Great Desert. Who cared if they liked him? He had a job to do.

  He left the side of the camel and approached Nierne and Lore. They turned and recognition dawned on their faces. He did not let any emotion show. But deep inside, in a place he had kept locked up for years, he knew the truth . . .

  He cared.

  He cared if they liked him.

  “You made it.” Relief laced Nierne’s voice.

  “Yes. It wasn’t that difficult.”

  “Still, I wasn’t sure . . .”

  She’d been concerned. About him. Something deep inside warmed. “We have a long trip ahead of us.” Caleb pointed down the road. “There are some ruins nearby where we can rest tonight. A river runs by it, so we can also wash up and drink.”

  Lore nodded. “Sounds good.” He started down the road. Nierne followed. Caleb took a couple steps, then stopped. He looked back. Azar stood tall and glorious, with people flowing in and out of the gates. Black banners bearing the head of the wolf fluttered in the wind along the walls.

  A small ache opened up inside him. He would never see Azar again. He would never walk along the halls of his family’s palace, or stand on the balcony on a hot summer’s night, or hear the horns welcome those outside the gates each morning. He was an exile now.

  He would never come home.

  Chapter

  4

  Rowen lay in the dark bowels of the ship, curled up on the floor, her hands bound behind her by iron manacles. The metal bands dug into her wrists and rubbed the skin raw until it was healed by her Eldaran power. For weeks she endured this cycle, over and over until blood was permanently crusted around her hand.

  The air around her was stale and cold, and filled with the scent of ship life: a cross between sweat, urine, and salt. Her hair, long since fallen out of its usual braid, lay in a matted mess around her face and across the floor. Slips of light shone between the wooden boards above, leaving patches of light across the ground. Shadows passed, followed by the clap of boots.

  She ignored the activity on the top deck. Instead, she stared at the shadows inside the hold where the ship’s cargo was stored: crates and boxes stacked on one another and tied to the sides of the ship. It was the same view she’d had for the last few weeks, chained here like an animal to the bottom of the ship.

  An ocean swell rocked the ship. Rowen brought her knees in toward her chest. A shout went up on the deck above. She turned and looked up. Bits of dirt fell between the cracks and across her face. She blinked and shook her head, then looked again. Sailors ran across the boards. More shouts.

  Strange. Usually there was very little activity. Something stirred inside her. She lifted her head and watched the sailors move above her. One called out, “Land ho!”

  Land. The word brought a rush of life. Land meant sun and sky and firm ground. Rowen struggled until she was sitting upright. She shifted across the floor, the chain from her manacles clattering behind her. She reached the side of the ship and leaned against it.

  The sun. She closed her eyes. She had missed the sun the most down in this filthy place. Soon she would be able to stand and move around. She would no longer be at sea, and no more sickness—

  Her stomach plummeted and a cold sphere filled her chest. Rowen sat back and opened her eyes.

  She would finally meet the Shadonae.

  Visions of pale men in long, dark robes filled her mind. Beings with the power to kill with just a touch of their hand. Beings the ent
ire world feared.

  The cold sphere expanded. Word, what can I do against such men? I have no weapon, no power that can stop such people. I can only show the truth.

  No voice answered her. Only the harsh patter of boots overhead and someone yelling for a rope.

  For one heartbeat she imagined disembarking from the ship and making a run for it. Across the pier onto the beach, and then away. Let someone else save the world. Someone stronger, more powerful than she.

  The image died. Rowen stared again at the shadows across the hold of the ship. No. No running. No hiding. When she first agreed to come with Nierne back to Thyra, she knew, deep inside, it was her destiny to meet these Shadonae. This was her long, dark road . . .

  And it was time to meet its end. Once her confrontation with the Shadonae was over, she would be free. Free to be with Lore.

  Rowen lay her head down. Hope mingled with the coldness inside her chest. She missed Lore. He was her closest friend and more. Lore was a part of her, her bondmate.

  His face filled her mind: The way his hair would fall on either side of his temples, the bits of grey amongst the sand colored strands. His eyes a strange green blue. His hands, strong and calloused from the sword. The first time he touched her. And the first time they kissed.

  The ship shifted. Rowen blinked and sat up. Sailors ran back and forth along the deck above, calling out instructions.

  She listened, then let her truthsaying senses spread out for the first time since Velyni took her back in Azar. She briefly touched the sailors’ consciousness. Some were excited. Others were uneasy. Most were simply relieved that they had arrived. She drew back in and waited.

  Minutes later, a small orb of light appeared in the darkness. A sailor walked amongst the crates, making his way through the hold, holding small lamp out in front of him. He bypassed the cargo and made his way to Rowen.

  He stopped just past the last crate, a couple feet from where she lay. He stared at Rowen, his eyes just as dark as his hair. He was not the sailor who had been taking care of her all these weeks, bringing her food and releasing her from the manacles for use of the bucket.