Crown of Smoke Page 2

  She jerks on her horse’s reins – such an uncharacteristic move – and angles the mare’s head back the way we came, riding in a wary circle that crushes more of the sultis, milky sap splattering across hoofs.

  “Rakel.” The Aphorain guard’s voice is muffled through his own mask. “Wait.”

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on here.” The next thing she’s sliding from her horse, tearing the cloth from her face. She starts to back away, eyes wild, like she might turn and bolt in the next breath.

  “Boy.” The word lashes out despite the cloth over my face. “Now’s the time to earn your keep. Be a hero and fetch your friend, would you?”

  The girl takes another step back. Three more. “You’re not seriously going to take orders from a stranger, are you?”

  The guard looks between me and the girl, his usually handsome – albeit still puppylike – face betraying his uncertainty. He swallows audibly. “Is that entirely necessary?”

  I could die of tedium. “It’s not star-charting, boy. Simply pick her up and tie her to her horse.”

  Now he holds up his hands. “I’m not… It can’t be me... You don’t understand. We have history.”

  “I understand more than you know.”

  But all the great lump does is stand there, dopey as a sleepy toddler.

  Then the Losian steps past him. In a few long strides she reaches the girl, lifts her from her feet and swings her over her shoulder as unceremoniously as a sack of barley.

  A lady who gets the job done. Commendable.

  “Hey!” the girl squawks. “Get your stinking paws off me!”

  “Here.” I hold up a vial of lilac-coloured liquid. “I’ll throw it to you.”

  The Losian snatches it out of the air with her free hand and eyes the Aphorain guard. “You too gutless to hold the horse, too?”

  The mare is skittish, forcing him to jog to catch her bridle in hand. The horse fights him, pawing the ground beneath her, only sending up more and more pungent sultis sap. “Calm, girl, this is for her own good.”

  I’d think that beast had more brain than any of them, as she settles enough for the Losian to swing the girl over the saddle.

  “Open the vial and wave it under her nose for a few breaths.”

  She does as instructed. Swift. Proficient. I’m beginning to like this one, despite her rough edges.

  “Keep going,” I urge. “It will kick in soon.”

  As expected, a dreamy look washes over the girl’s features.

  I allow myself a satisfied smirk. Didn’t even have to uncuff myself.

  With the girl subdued, the Losian recaps the vial. She looks askance out over the sultis vines. “What would happen if you got lost in here?”

  “You’d wander until your body could wander no more. As many have done.”

  “And then?”

  “You’ve seen what’s beneath. Rock and nothing much else. How do you think the vines get the nutrients they need for survival?”

  It’s the first time I’ve seen her formidable frame shudder.

  I recognize sorrow when I see it.

  The return of the girl’s memories seems particularly cruel. As is the usual way, she recalled things in sequence, oldest to newest. At the outset, she looked suspicious of all of us but the Aphorain. Then she relaxed towards the Prince. Then she began to talk animatedly of the Prince’s Shield, asking where he was, why he wasn’t with us.

  They all look stricken. I figure I may as well be the person to tell her the truth. She was never going to feel endeared towards me. This won’t render that any different. And it would be harsher to leave her chattering obliviously away about the Shield until the realization crept up on her.

  “He’s dead,” I say. No point in framing it differently. Even the finest perfumer cannot make rancid ingredients into a soothing balm. “He died at the palace.”

  She squints at me, in that same way she’s always done, as she tries to work out who I am and whether I can be trusted. “I don’t believe you.”

  Come sunset, the girl crumples forward in her saddle and gives a bone-chilling wail.

  Now she’s remembered.

  And for all I can tell, it’s the blow that finally breaks her.

  She rides silently in the middle of our group. Through unspoken agreement the others have positioned themselves around her, as if she were going try to bolt again at any moment. I almost tell them not to bother – anyone can see that her fire has been extinguished. But if their care helps us make good time, then so be it.

  The amber-drenched Aphorain rides beside her. He had draped a blanket around her shoulders when the cool of the foothills turned to the chill of the mountains. Every now and then he draws his mount in close and reaches out to straighten it.

  She doesn’t seem to notice.

  Or care.

  The moons both rise early, lighting the way, so we ride through the early part of the night. The weather isn’t kind, the clear sky brings a frigid chill and the wind forfends conversation. Which is good. I need to think. Whatever the Order is going to have me do once the Prince is delivered to safety, I must be ready. One step ahead. Always at least one step ahead. That was Sephine’s failing. She was too focused on the now, while other players manoeuvred around her.

  Just shy of midnight, we make camp in a depression between the rocky tors. The Losian sets about scraping a fire together, well-shielded in the ground lest the seemingly deserted mountains have eyes. The Aphorain helps me with the horses – the girl usually would, but she hasn’t moved an inch since dismounting. The Prince must be positively famished – for once he dishes out the trail rations of dried fruit and meat and roasted nuts rather than waiting to be served.

  We eat in silence, before each clearing enough of the pebbles away to hopefully get some kind of sleep. The girl wraps herself in her blanket and lies down, facing away from the fire. The others tried to talk to her, but they can’t reach her, not in grief like that.

  My words least of all could offer comfort, so I watch and wait for each of them to find their sleeping rolls. They’ve stopped asking questions of me each night, about where we’re going and how long it will take, too cold and bone-tired for curiosity.

  When the fire needs more fuel, I take up a stick of mourning incense along with the last of the peat bricks from my pack. We’re going to have to make it to our destination tomorrow, or it’s going to be a freezing night beyond.

  Only the Losian stirs when I rearrange the glowing embers to achieve the slowest burn. She opens one eye, but doesn’t otherwise move.

  Nobody else sees me lay the mourning incense beside the girl’s sleeping face.

  CHAPTER 2

  RAKEL

  It’s the ache in my back that wakes me.

  I must have been hunched tight in a ball all night. I remember drifting in and out of sleep, feet numb with cold, the scent of cypress and … something else. I could have sworn it was marjoram, used for the second stage of mourning – the time to cherish memories of those who’ve gone to the sky.

  I open my eyes. I wasn’t imagining it. A fine stick of grief incense lies not far from my nose. The expensive kind. Made with a high ratio of fragrance to powder.

  I’m not stupid. I know it’s a signal to keep going. To begin to move forward. Memories are blades and loss keeps them sharp, Ash said to me once. Losing someone you love is hard enough, losing them twice is a special kind of cruelty. After the sultis incident, there’s a part of me that wants to stay here, waiting for the cold to numb me for ever. Maybe someone has noticed.

  Barden and Kip are preparing the ponies for another day of trekking higher and higher into these Rot-forsaken mountains. Beyond the activity, Nisai sits at the edge of camp, burning incense in prayer. It takes a while for the scent to reach me; the colder it gets, the less I can rely on my nose. Ah. There it is. The same as the stick in my hand. Sweet of him to think of me even in his own grief.

  I can see why Ash was loyal to him. So, loyal i
s what I’ll be, too. If this Sanctuary that Luz speaks of lives up to its name, then I know Ash would want me to put one foot after the other until we made it there. Until the Prince is safe.

  Through, he’d say, taking my hand. The best way out is through.

  We mount up and strike out for another day of misery. Above us, the snow line beckons. I’ve never been this close to snow before. Even when I was with Ash in the Hagmiri mountains, so suffocating with their thick-canopied vegetation compared to the bare rock that now surrounds us, we didn’t climb this high.

  The rock formations up here are so different to the Aphorain landscape. We’re surrounded by grey stone in vertical peaks that claw at the sky. They’re all angles and shards, so different to the sandstone of the lowlands where the weather scours off every sharp edge. The temple in Aphorai City used to be the tallest peak in my world. These make it seem an anthill.

  I should be excited. Curious. Not just for the Sanctuary. But for a much deeper mystery.

  My mother.

  The few hours we spent at home in my village before setting out on this journey were supposed to have been joyful. Instead it felt as if a groundshake heaved the desert beneath my feet. I should be glad she’s alive. Should be relieved. The weight I’ve always carried on my shoulders, that my life was at the cost of another’s, has lifted. But it’s been replaced by a gaping hollow. The feeling of being unwanted. Abandoned.

  I let you live in the shadow of a lie, Father attempted to explain. For that I will always be sorry. I wanted to keep you safe. I wanted you to have your own life. When she told me she was leaving once you were born, and that where she was going she couldn’t take us, was forbidden to take you…

  I’d reeled at that. She didn’t have to leave? She wasn’t forced?

  He’d looked hopeless, like he was trying to find an impossible balance between blame and forgiveness. Yaita felt compelled to leave. I don’t know all of her reasons, but I know that she needed above all else to dedicate herself to a higher cause. The Scent Keeper let it be known that she had died of birthing fever, and that at Sephine’s mercy your mother would retain the honour of a priestess and be sent to the sky. I was sure I was the only one outside the temple who knew the body they burned on the funeral pyre was not your mother. Knowledge, I was told, that would see me – and you – endangered if it came to light.

  In the here and now, rain mixed with ice begins to sting my face. I can barely see two horse lengths in front of me.

  The numbness seeps back in with the cold.

  We’ve been walking for ever, I’ve been running for ever, and for what? More secrets. More lies. The answers I would have moons ago been so keen to find at the end of this journey no longer seem so important. Everything seems dull. Grey. Futile.

  I’m putting one foot in front of the other. I’m keeping going. But that doesn’t mean I’m all right.

  Barden rides close. He’s good at watching me like a hawk, but too clunky about it for me to not notice. It should be a comfort, having my friend here. But I can’t seem to feel anything. Just like this landscape – rock, snow and no signs of life – I’m empty.

  The cold days and colder nights we’ve been through blend into one frozen hell. The only change today is, as we move higher, the snow becomes more and more compacted. We’re soon forced to dismount to cross entire stretches of ice, our feet threatening to slide out from under us at each step, the usually sure-footed ponies scrabbling for purchase.

  I have no idea how long we’ve been walking, climbing, trudging higher when Luz holds up a hand, halting us.

  We’re a mere few paces from the edge of a cliff. The wind whips the hem of my robe, snakes bitter fingers through my short-cropped hair. I don’t try to stop it.

  Luz stands on the brink like it’s no matter, peering down to where the stone drops off into a ravine that makes the canyons near my village seem mere wrinkles in cloth. The bottom disappears in blue-tinged mist. I can’t for stink nor stench see beyond it, even though the blurriness in my vision since healing Nisai seems to have begun to subside. Or maybe I’m just learning to live with it.

  Ahead, the path all but vanishes. There’s only a thin ledge, barely the width of one of the mounts Luz purchased back at the border. It’s never been clearer why she chose mountain ponies.

  Now, she sweeps her gaze over us. “Single file only, my lovelies. Lead the animals. And if you don’t like heights, hide it. The beasts will respond to your fear more than they’ll fear the height itself.”

  Perhaps the truest words I’ve heard from those lips. I stroke Lil’s neck. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, girl?”

  My mare remains still. Ready. Warm and alive. More than I can say for myself.

  “Lostras, you lead?”

  Kip nods. She doesn’t even balk at the familiarity. She was the first to get used to the nickname Luz assigned her.

  “Next our Prince, then Lord Amber.”

  Barden scowls. Others are still not used to their nicknames.

  “Then you and Midnight, petal.”

  I don’t bother correcting her on Lil’s real name.

  “And I’ll bring up the rear.”

  I huff derisively, my breath clouding for a moment only to be snatched by the wind. “So you can let one of us find out where the most dangerous ground is?”

  “So it’s easiest for me to double back and fetch our Prince’s mount. I’ll be the only one who must cross thrice.”

  Oh.

  “But good to see you getting some of that bite back. I’ve missed being surrounded with vinegar fumes.” The last is said with one of her infuriating winks.

  We form a line, the others leading their mountain ponies, me leading Lil.

  Kip begins, taking it slowly but surely. Nisai follows, testing the ice with the heel of each of his crutches before letting them bear his weight. I wonder if it would have been better for someone to carry him. Then again, would I want someone else to have control of my fate like that?

  Near the halfway point, his crutch slips.

  I suck in a breath through my teeth.

  Then Barden is there, one strong arm steadying Nisai, the other holding his nervous pony back at a safe distance. The Prince gathers himself and focuses again on the path.

  Then it’s my turn.

  The ledge looked narrow from a distance. Up close, it feels even tighter. It’s barely wide enough for us, Lil’s flanks scraping the rock face when it leans close. I look back and notice the stirrup on her other side hangs over thin air.

  “Eyes to the front, petal!” Luz calls.

  And for once, I agree wholeheartedly with her.

  I keep moving, one foot after the other.

  Near the point where Nisai almost slipped, something unexpected reaches my nose. I’m sure I’d have smelled it earlier if it weren’t for how the cold distorts the world.

  There. A beast, like an oversized lion without a feathered mane, prowls the opposite side of the ravine. Its coat is pure white, hiding it almost completely against the snow, except where blood stains its muzzle. Guess it recently fed. Hope that means it’s not looking for another meal anytime soon.

  “Calm,” I murmur to Lil without looking back, hoping she doesn’t notice it. We take another step.

  Then Lil snorts, stamping at the ledge, sending splinters of ice tinkling down into the ravine.

  “It can’t get to you,” I tell her.

  But it’s a predator, and she’s a prey animal, and there’s death in the air. I can’t be stuck out here with her losing her head. She’d never willingly hurt me, but instinct is powerful.

  I look to Barden. He’s made it across. Back on solid ground, the Prince is breathing relieved plumes of mist.

  The way is clear. I take another step and flatten myself against a shallow depression in the rock face. “Go!” I command my horse.

  She hesitates, then skitters past.

  I glance back to Luz. Her pony gives a nervous huff but seems otherwise fine. And whe
n I look back to where the big cat had been there’s now nothing but a flurry of snow.

  With how much I trust my eyes these days, I’d think I had been seeing things if Lil hadn’t have spooked.

  “Keep moving,” Luz orders. “It’s probably on its way back to its den, but I’ve no inclination to test that theory.”

  I breathe in deep, exhale and take another step. I’m moving so slowly and carefully that I feel as much as hear it when the ice cracks. I try to shift my weight, but I’m sliding. I twist, only for my foot to skid out from under me. Then I’m coming down on my front, grazing my chin as the breath whooshes from my lungs.

  The realization comes to me, sudden and shocking: my legs are dangling over the edge of the cliff.

  “Rakel!”

  Barden’s voice. It comes from the other side of the pass and echoes around the peaks. Too far to lend a hand.

  I cast about. There’s nothing to grab to haul myself up, and I’m sliding, slowly, on the freeze-slick rock. Sliding towards the end.

  Somewhere in my numb mind, I wonder if that would be so bad. We must be close to the Sanctuary now. Nisai’s safe on the other side of the pass.

  Here, the fall looks so long, it would be almost like flying. And then it would be over.

  No more cold. No more emptiness.

  No more endless roads.

  No grief.

  Just nothing.

  Then, long fingers wrap around my wrist, blue eyes boring into me. “Don’t even think about it, petal.”

  With strength that belies her lithe frame, Luz lifts me back to the ledge. “My orders are to deliver you to our destination. I’d rather you not be a sack of frozen sludge scraped from the bottom of a ravine when I do. Now. Anything broken?”

  Bruises will no doubt be blossoming across my ribs from the fall, and my shoulder aches from being pulled back from the brink. I bit my tongue when I hit the ice – copper oozes in my mouth – and my grazed chin burns in the freezing air. “Couple of scratches, that’s all.”

  “Lovely. Now let us put this precarious moment behind us, no?”

  I stare blankly in reply.