Sky of Wind by Emily Deady

Chapter 4

Leaning into the swirling wind, Sol kept his arm on the stumbling Neven as they pushed through the dark forest. He couldn’t tell if the wind was creating their path, or if the protective bubble of air was following his lead. Either way, they were moving as quickly away from their pursuers as they could.

Sol kept his ears alert for any sound of danger from those behind them, or aid from those ahead of him.

The low rumble of an owl’s hoot made its way under the higher pitch of the wind’s whistle.

Sol veered toward the sound, adjusting the angle of their path.

He hoped it was a signal from his correspondent, but perhaps he was blindly following the sound of a forest owl.

The owl hooted again.

Sol continued toward it with confidence. The forest was alive with activity, and no wild bird would reveal its location in such chaos.

“An eagle’s talon,” a voice hissed through the wind.

Sol instantly stopped, glancing in every direction for signs of the speaker. “Cannot stop the flow of the river,” he responded into the shadows.

“Sol, here,” the voice sounded above him.

Sol looked up to see a hooded figure sitting in the branches of the tree above him. “Lady Robin?” he asked. It was too dark to make out any features.

“You’re not alone?” The voice sounded like a woman’s, but she did not answer his question, nor did she deny it. As she spoke, she threw a soft object from the tree.

“A fellow prisoner,” Sol explained, deftly catching the object despite the darkness. It was a bundled rope ladder, still attached somewhere above his head.

“Quickly,” she urged. “Quietly.”

Sol shook out the ladder and gestured to Neven to climb it first.

Once they stopped moving, the wind continued to circle them, slowly losing its power. Sol breathed his thanks to the quieting gust. He had never seen magic respond in such a way, but his mind was too worried about their pursuers to examine the anomaly.

Sol followed his companion up the ladder and helped Robin draw it quickly back up into the tree. From what he could see in the darkness, they were crouching on a small platform that had been built into the branches of the tree.

As soon as he had taken in his surroundings, he reached behind Neven’s head and fumbled to quickly unclasp the gem tied around his neck.

Neven exhaled audibly.

Sol tucked the gem into his pocket, knowing exactly how it felt to remove the hated device. The chaos magic in the gem was physically painless, but it separated a person from their magic, muting more than their voice.

“We’ll wait here until it’s safe,” Robin whispered.

“Hopefully that won’t be hours,” Neven breathed.

“Or days,” Sol added.

“I have so many questions, young man, but tell me. Are we going somewhere better than our previous destination?” Neven said.

Sol could feel Neven’s gaze on him in the darkness. “In good time,” Sol responded, his voice barely a whisper. “We are still in danger.”

Neven nodded, leaning back against a thick branch behind him.

Sol remained alert, crouching over his toes. Scanning the forest around them, he approximated where their pursuers would come from, and calculated which directions appeared best to use as escape routes.

The sounds of the forest slowly played out around him, occasionally interrupted by a shuffle from Neven or a breath from Robin.

Exhaustion gnawed at Sol’s mind—as did the myriad of questions he wished to ask Robin—but he could not relax even if he tried.

A short time later, the sound of footsteps broke through the forest.

Two Quotidian soldiers walked toward them, carrying a torch which lit the forest around them.

Sol stopped breathing completely, muscles tensing in readiness.

The soldiers walked warily, even gazing up into the trees as they searched.

The distant sounds of a scuffle attracted their attention and the soldiers immediately broke into a sprint, running toward the sound.

Sol caught a hint of a smile on Robin’s face as the torchlight faded away. He leaned his head back against a tree branch behind him, allowing only his neck to relax. His eyes remained open throughout the night, watching for any sign of danger and catching every shade of dawn until morning came.

“We should be safe to move to a more secure spot,” Robin finally broke the hours of silence.

Sol nodded, dropping nimbly out of the tree after her. His joints and muscles complained as he landed on the firm ground. He stood tall and stretched out the aches and numbness in his feet and joints.

As Neven followed them out of the tree, Sol took a moment to look up at their hiding place in the light. The small platform was skillfully hidden between the twisting trunk and draping leaves. He subconsciously nodded his head in approval as he realized why the soldiers had not seen them in the tree hours before.

Robin led them further into the forest. Though she followed no set path, she navigated her way with confidence and ease.

Sol appreciated the thick cover of the trees overhead, which blocked the rising sun and its heat. His mouth was dry and his stomach rumbled, but he ignored the discomfort.

Sooner than he expected, Robin led them into an open glade.

Sol stopped at the edge of it, carefully noticing his surroundings with a quick glance. The first thing to catch his attention, however, was the enticing smell of freshly roasted meat. Two men sat near an open fire, tending to food which sizzled temptingly on a spit. Behind them, a woodman’s hut nestled under the trees at the far side of the open area. Beneath a large, low tree in the center of the glade, a woman sat fletching an arrow.

Robin had walked confidently into the open area, approaching the two men at the fire.

“Lane and Fletcher?” She asked immediately.

“Sleeping.” One of the men gestured toward the cabin behind him.

“Willa?” Robin continued.

“She made it back just after dawn. Took a small sleep then set out to do a round,” the second man answered.

“A success?” the first one spoke again.

Robin nodded, her shoulders relaxing in a smooth motion as she slipped off her cape. “We did it.” She turned to Sol, her smile triumphant. “Not that I had any doubts, of course,” she hurried to add.

Sol stiffly returned her smile. This was indeed a success, but so much more remained to be done. “Thank you, Lady Robin.” He dipped his head in a quick bow. “It is an honor to finally see you with my own eyes.”

“Please, I no longer accept the title of lady,” Robin replied. “Call me Robin.”

“This would not have been possible without you,” Sol insisted.

“You would have found a way,” Robin replied. “It was my honor and duty to assist you. Please, you must be hungry. Sit and eat.”

“I, too, would like to thank you,” Neven interjected, following her direction and seating himself by the fire. “But I still do not know what is happening here.”

Robin looked at Sol, a question in her eyes.

Sol broke the contact, appreciating that she let him choose what secrets to share. He turned to his companion. “Neven?” He extended his hand. “I’m Sol.”

Neven leaned forward to shake his hand. The older man’s grip was firm despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

“I am sorry that our meeting takes place under such unfortunate circumstances,” Sol continued. “I hail from the western side of Istroya. I gathered you are from the northern port?”

Neven nodded. “Unfortunate circumstances. That’s putting it lightly. No one wants to be chosen.”

“I was not chosen,” Sol responded slowly. “I chose to be chosen.”

“You must be mad,” Neven said. “Though that much has been made clear, of course. Attempting an escape?”

“Our fate was already worse than death. What more could they have done if we’d been recaptured?” Sol responded.

“But you didn’t have to be chosen at all. Why volunteer for such a position?” Neven turned to Robin. “Not that I am ungrateful to be included in the escape, of course. No offense, my lady.”

“It’s Robin. None taken.”

“I am not so naïve as to think this escape was planned around me,” Neven said, turning his attention back to Sol.

“Your assumption would be correct,” Sol responded. “But I am glad that my plan could benefit you nonetheless.”

Neven nodded.

“Come, let us eat,” Robin said, seating herself around the fire.

Sol instinctively walked to the other side of the fire so he could keep an eye on the area behind his companion’s backs.

“Ulli, Nele,” Robin said, indicating the two men already seated. “Sol. Neven.”

Sol nodded a greeting as Ulli handed him a sharp stick loaded with crispy chunks of roasted meat. His stomach grumbled in anticipation, and he breathed gently on the still steaming food.

“And you are?” Neven directed his question to Robin.

“A member of River’s Talon,” she replied, casually.

Sol noted that she did not introduce herself as the leader of River’s Talon, but he did not press the matter. She could present herself as she pleased.

Neven’s eyes went wide, and he blinked rapidly, dipping awkwardly into a bow from his seated position. “My life is at your service. And not just because I owe it to you.”

Robin shook her head. “Sol is the one who risked his life to save you. My team merely created a distraction.”

Neven turned back to Sol. “How did you access your magic?”

Sol tugged the counterfeit gem from his neck. “It was a fake.”

“This entire time?” Neven asked in disbelief.

Sol nodded. He wanted to toss the gem deep into the forest, never to be seen again. But life had taught him to waste not. He shoved the gem into his pocket, out of sight.

Neven smiled, relaxing back onto his wooden stool as though he felt safe for the first time. “What is next? Can I aid you?” Neven turned back to Sol.

“Perhaps,” Sol replied, looking at his companion more closely than he ever had. Only four people in the world knew his plan, and one of them was Robin. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Neven, he just wasn’t about to share every detail with a near stranger. Even if he and that stranger had endured a grueling six weeks of captivity together. “My plan is to strike Gareth at the root of his power, creating a drawback that might give someone else a chance to win against him.”

Neven looked up. His mouth was full, but he had stopped chewing. After a lengthy pause, he swallowed heavily. “I would say you were mad, but I’ve already said that. And I would say it’s impossible, but somehow I’m here and not on my way to Chendas. So I suppose I shall say nothing at all.” He took another bite from his skewer.

Sol turned back to Robin. “You wrote that you could provide weapons and food for the next length of my journey?”

“Of course,” Robin said. “But we have time for all that. Eat.”

“I intend to leave before the night has set,” Sol replied. He took a large bite of meat. He needed to eat so he could finish preparing for the next part of the journey.

“You are exhausted. Surely you can rest for a few days,” Robin said.

“We are already short on time,” Sol spoke over the food in his mouth. “And I cannot endanger you by staying any longer. They will be searching this place.”

Robin raised her eyebrows. “No one can find this place.”

Sol pursed his lips. His eyes darted around the peaceful glade, but he held back any words of criticism. Robin had aided him at a peril to herself and it was not his responsibility to tell her how to manage her home and people.

She smiled at him condescendingly, as though she could read the thoughts in his mind.

“Except, perhaps,” Neven interjected, continuing his previous line of thought and drawing Sol’s surprised attention. “I would say one thing more. I wish you luck, Sol. And if I may aid you, tell me and I will do so.”

“My thanks,” Sol replied. He had no grand illusion of even surviving his quest. “Stay here with the River’s Talon and regain your strength.”

Neven tilted his head slightly back, observing Sol. “You have given me a new life. I cannot return to my family in Istroya. At least allow me to help you defeat Gareth.”

Sol returned the man’s gaze, thinking through his next words. He had no desire to risk another’s life, nor would he let another in who might be a risk to his goal. “I must travel to Chendas and watch . . . the activity of our enemy, among other things. I will alert River’s Talon should I need aid in the final action.” Sol looked down, stuffing his mouth with the remainder of his meal.

“Sol.” Robin’s voice was somber. “Come, let us look at the weaponry we might give to you.”

Sol stood, concern knotting his forehead. He was eager to avoid more questions, but certain that he was about to hear bad news.

“Some things have changed since our last communication,” Robin said, her voice low as she led him away from the fire.

“You were unable to discover the location?” Sol guessed.

Robin shook her head. “My weeks in Chendas were not fruitful, however . . .” She held up her hand, stopping Sol from speaking. “Because I discovered our target is not in Chendas.”

“That’s impossible,” Sol responded, his voice calm and quiet despite the consternation he felt. “Every report said the chosen Majis are transported to Chendas.”

“Were.” Robin cut him off. “Were transported to Chendas. Gareth recently moved operations to Falqri, and as far as we know, the receptacles as well.”

“Then we go to Falqri. It should be easier to search a fort than a capital kingdom.”

“It’s not that simple,” Robin sighed. “We’ve been building up our allies in Chendas for years. We have no stable contacts in Falqri yet because it is so remote. Although I might have a full recruit there soon. It’s too soon to risk your identity by alerting him, though.”

“I thought you had a hold in all five of the kingdoms?” Sol said. He’d made it this far, he wasn’t about to give up.

“We had a cypher there.” Robin sighed. “She was ratted out in the aftermath of Aizel’s escape.”

Sol felt his body deflate. Surely it was merely the exhaustion. His plan was fruitless if he could not get inside the fort. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sure if his words were for himself or for the loss of Robin’s comrade.

“It not only affects access to the fort, but it deters entry into Falqri as well.”

“Aizel?” Sol’s head shot back up as Robin’s earlier words finally registered in his mind. “You know Aizel? She’s alive? And she’s here?” He looked around, half expecting his childhood friend to walk out of the hut they were whispering in front of.

Robin nodded. “Not here, here.” She pointed to the ground at her feet. “But here in Iseldis, at the palace.” She pointed behind her, toward the forest.

“And what of Celesta?” Sol asked, feeling relief and concern at the same time. “They came for her soon after Aizel disappeared.”

“Celesta is alive and well. She spent a nasty few weeks in Gareth’s dungeon—”

Sol clenched his fists, anger rushing from his head to his tensed feet.

Robin immediately placed a calming hand on his arm. “But she’s recovering now, and happy. I saw her with my own eyes. She’s resilient.”

“She’s a child. She shouldn’t have to be resilient.” Sol’s voice was uncharacteristically Sol was not placated. “Surely Iseldis is treating them no better? Can we not find a way to release them? Would that give us time to find a new cypher in Falqri?”

“That’s not all, about Falqri,” Robin responded slowly. She stepped inside the hut, holding the door open.

Appreciating the additional privacy, Sol followed her inside.

“The northern border is surrounded by steep cliffs,” Robin continued. “And the only passes through are guarded by Gareth’s men. It would be certain death to cross over the cliffs and desert in the heat of greenreign. The faster way to the fort is by sea. Which brings us back to Iseldis.”

Sol crossed his arms. “Aizel and Celesta.” His voice was close to breaking. He thought he’d mastered the art of not getting too close to someone. Then Aizel and Celesta had been taken. They were as dear to him as his own younger sisters and brothers.

“Sol, they’re safe,” Robin said. “Safe and well. They are guests at the palace, not prisoners.”

Sol felt relief, but his body was no less tense. “We can access Falqri by sea, then.” Sol directed the conversation back to something less personal.

“Yes,” Robin responded, her voice crisp and high. “If we can get you on a ship sailing from Iseldis, which is possible but will take some preparation.”

Sol nodded. He would do whatever was necessary to get to his destination, and he trusted Robin to know the ideal means of doing so. His mind was having trouble grasping the particulars of the new plan so quickly, so he distracted himself for a moment by glancing at the multiple longbows which lined the wall of the humble cabin.

Following his eye line, Robin stepped to his side. She looked between him and the various bows, then grabbed two from the wall. “You could save a considerable length of time—and see that Aizel and Celesta are safe—if you went straight to the palace and asked for their aid.”

Sol accepted the bow she held out to him. It was nearly as tall as he was, though it was unstrung. “You said I could ask for their aid, not we could ask?”

Robin took the bow from his hands and swung one end of it behind her foot, leaning into its curve as she harnessed its power and deftly slid the string into its proper notch. “I am not welcome in the palace.” Her voice was unconcerned, but Sol did not miss the way she avoided his eyes as she said it.

“I am not afraid to enter the enemy’s house,” Sol responded. “But would it not be less risk to find a local shipping merchant?”

Robin handed the strung bow back to him. “Iseldis is not dangerous for you. Their son, Erich, was recently attacked by Gareth, so I have good reason to believe they are no longer allies with Chendas.”

“That alone does not make them an ally of mine.” Sol lifted the bow, testing the weight of its pull. It was heavy, but years spent working in the sea had given him considerable strength as well. He drew the string back to his chin, holding it there for a moment.

“The Sirilian family appears to have allied themselves to you, however,” Robin replied. “That same son, Erich, wed Aizel a sennight prior.”

Sol quickly released the tension in the bowstring, he knew better than to let it fire without an arrow, and guided the string back into place with his hand despite the biting pain in his fingertips. “You said she was not a prisoner. Aizel would never stoop so low as to marry a Quotidian prince. What kind of chaos did he weave over her?”

“The magic of love?” Robin’s mouth curved into a small smile.

Sol did not try to hide his scoff. From everything he knew of Robin, she was not one to rely on sentiment.

“Your best option is to ally with Iseldis. It will be the swiftest route to Falqri, and offers the most effective means of support.”

“I have you,” Sol responded.

“And I will be here to support you, but the strength of an entire kingdom is far more powerful than that of a handful of outlawed men and women.”

Sol handed the bow back to Robin. “It is very powerful, but I have no skill with an arrow. A dagger or spear would suit me better.”

Robin returned the bow to the wall and opened a chest on the floor below it.

“I thank you for your thoughts,” Sol said, returning to their more important conversation. “But I have no wish to be reliant on Quotidian men.”

Robin handed him a sheathed dagger. “I am Quotidian, and you seem to have no issue with my support.”

Sol accepted the dagger, happy for the excuse to drop his eyes from her face. He would go to Iseldis if it truly was the best option. “But only to ensure that Aizel is not being held there against her will.”