Oathbreaker (Legend of the Gods Book 1) Page 10

  Now, with Devon and Braidon unconscious, she crouched in the same clearing and stared at the silent trees. Alana hadn’t left her brother’s side since Devon smashed the demonic tree, but afterwards Kellian had ventured close enough to inspect them. Apparently several of the trees lining the clearing had dark faces etched into their bark. She expected them to reawaken at any moment, but there was little they could do if the trees threatened again. Between herself and Kellian, they could barely lift the massive hammerman—let alone her brother.

  Instead, Kellian had lit a great fire in the centre of the clearing, and together they had sat down to wait out the night. She must have fallen asleep, because she could already see the first light of morning creeping through the treetops.

  Her gaze shifted to Devon’s motionless figure. Sleep had softened the rugged features of his face, the furrows in his forehead vanishing, the scowl replaced by a slight smile. Beside his massive shoulders and muscular arms, her brother seemed but a child, precious and fragile. She cursed herself again for ever bringing him to this place.

  She flinched as a low groan came from across the clearing. Reaching for her sabre, she made to stand, her eyes going to the trees, before the sound came again. Across the fire, Devon shifted and sat up, his amber eyes blinking in the shadows. His gaze shifted from Kellian to Alana, before returning to his friend.

  “We beat the bastards, then?”

  Kellian chuckled. He reached down to pick up the warhammer and handed it to Devon. “You beat them, old friend.”

  “Good.” Taking the hammer, Devon placed it beside him and held his hands out to the fire. “No wonder I’m starving. We got anything for breakfast?”

  Alana’s heart lurched in her chest as another moan came from her brother. She scrambled across to him as he sat up, his brow creased with confusion.

  “Alana? Where are we—” He broke off as she smothered him in a hug.

  “I’m sorry,” she said at last, breaking away. She quickly wiped a tear from her eye. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine, I think,” he replied, rubbing his head where the vine had struck him. “What happened…” He jerked as he looked around and saw the faces on the trees, lit now by the light of day. “The trees!”

  “It’s okay,” Alana said quickly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “They seem to be…asleep,” she finished lamely.

  “Scared, more like,” Devon said gruffly.

  “Whatever they are, your breakfast will have to wait,” Kellian said, standing. He gestured at the trees. “I don’t know about you, but now you’re both awake, I’d rather not stick around in this place.”

  Alana nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

  There was no telling which direction they’d come from, but Kellian climbed a tree and was able to pick a path northwest towards the river. So long as they kept to that direction they would eventually stumble onto the road. It would take another day to leave the forest by those paths, but with Quinn and his Stalkers behind them, no one was enthusiastic about heading back the way they’d come.

  They walked on through the morning in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. When they finally reached the road, the four of them exchanged brief glances, relief etched into their faces. Turning to the north, they continued on, determined to escape the forest as soon as physically possible. Kellian dug into a small pack as they walked, coming up with a few strips of salted jerky. The scraps were passed around without speech. With Alana’s meagre supplies lost in the battle with the trees, there wouldn’t be any more food until they left the forest.

  The day dragged on. The sun rose high above the treetops, but its light did not penetrate beneath the canopy. Shadows clung to the path, and when they breathed there was ice in the air. As the sun crept towards the horizon, Alana’s breath began to cloud before her face. Shivering, she pulled her cloak more tightly around her, and marched on.

  Only as the light began to fade did Alana glimpse the first traces of the city that had once been Sitton. Fallen stonework, shaped by human hands, appeared amongst the trees. She glimpsed a wall to their left, its surface turned green by moss, then tripped as the path beneath her feet changed to stones, a groove worn into the rock catching her boot. Mounds of broken tiles lay amongst the trees, and as she looked more closely, she realised the path was now threading its way through former buildings, their roofs long gone, their walls crumbling.

  “Sitton,” she breathed.

  Up front, Devon nodded. “All that remains,” he murmured, glancing back. “I’ve come this way before. There’s a temple ahead. Its walls are mostly intact, they should offer some protection. We’ll camp there for the night.”

  True to Devon’s word, the temple was in better condition than many of the other buildings, though a massive tower had fallen across half the structure, burying everything beneath a mound of stones. The remaining three walls stood strong, offering their ancient protection from the elements. Devon led them to a doorway in one of the walls, its wooden arch long since rotted away.

  Alana paused in the doorway as the others moved ahead, her eyes scanning the interior of the temple. There was no sign of broken tiles or roofing material, and she guessed this section must have once been a courtyard within the temple’s inner sanctum. Several trees grew in its centre, their long branches stretching high above the height of the walls. She stared at their trunks but could see no sign of the demonic faces.

  Allowing herself to follow the others into the temple courtyard, Alana scanned the walls. Moss and lichen covered the stones, but she could just make out the old etchings in their surface—of lightning bolts and spiralling trees. The symbols meant the temple had once been dedicated to Antonia and Jurrien—the Gods of Earth and Sky.

  Kellian and Devon moved quickly about the courtyard, gathering branches and kindling for a fire. A tinderbox appeared from Kellian’s bag and within minutes they had a fire burning against the far wall of the courtyard. Taking her brother by the hand, they moved across to join them, savouring the warmth on their faces. Silently the four of them sat round the fire, eyes to the flames.

  “What were those things?” It was Kellian who finally broke the silence.

  Alana shuddered. Her skin crawled where the vines had touched her, their inexorable strength threatening to drag her to her death. She recalled the red eyes, glowing through the dark, the gaping maws opening to greet her. Shivering, she pushed the memory away.

  “Nothing I’ve ever seen,” Devon mused, his voice strangely calm. The hammer lay beside him, his hand rested on its haft. “Something evil.”

  “Really?” Alana snapped. She looked up to find the eyes of the other three on her. Her shoulders slumped and she shook her head. “Sorry. I’m just…” she trailed off, unable to put words to the terror that had lodged in her soul.

  “Afraid,” Kellian finished for her. His eyes flickered around the fallen temple. “Are we safe here, do you think?”

  “I’ve camped here before,” Devon answered, “when I travelled this way in the past. But those things…who knows how far their darkness reaches.”

  Beside her, Braidon shuddered. “I barely saw them. They knocked me down before I knew what was happening.”

  “Count yourself lucky,” Kellian murmured. His eyes flickered from Braidon to Alana. “Why did you venture off the path in the first place?”

  A shiver swept down Alana’s spine as she glimpsed suspicion in the man’s eyes. They had been behind them on the Gods Road—that meant they’d seen the Stalkers ride past. Reaching down, Alana took a swig from the water skin, buying herself time.

  “We stumbled from the path,” she said finally. “It was dark and the path was overgrown. I didn’t realise how lost we were until we found that clearing.”

  “What I don’t understand,” Devon said quietly, his eyes flickering down to the hammer at his feet. “Is why the vines fell back from kanker. Your blades barely cut them, but as soon as kanker touched them, they withered away.”

&n
bsp; The others looked back at him, unable to offer any answers. Alana was about to ask where the hammer had come from when her ears caught the soft whisper of noise from beyond the walls. Goosebumps tingling on her neck, she rose quickly, waving a hand to silence the others. Clutching at her sword hilt, she crept towards the doorway, eyes fixed on the shadows beyond, ears straining.

  Crunch.

  This time the noise was unmistakable—the sound of a footstep on stone.

  Chapter 14

  Behind Alana, the others rose, weapons in hand. Gritting her teeth, Alana drew her sabre. At the rasp of steel on leather, all sounds from outside ceased. Cursing softly, Alana slid closer to the temple’s entrance.

  She lifted her blade as movement flickered in the doorway, preparing to hurl herself at the unknown intruder. Before she had a chance to attack, a hunched figure stepped from the shadows into the light.

  Alana blinked, her feet almost tripping over themselves as she pulled herself up short. Soft laughter whispered through the courtyard as the figure took another step towards them. Firelight illuminated the withered folds of a woman’s ancient face. Blue eyes glowed in the darkness, and silvery hair hung around her shoulders. Green robes cloaked the woman’s ancient body. While she moved at a shuffle, Alana did not miss the glint of a sword hilt at the woman’s waist. Taking a hasty step back, she lifted her own blade and pointed it at the old woman.

  “Stay back!” Alana cursed inwardly as her voice shook.

  The laughter came again, quiet, filled with mirth. “Are you so afraid of an old woman?”

  “These are strange times,” Kellian said, stepping up beside Alana. “Trust does not come easily. Who are you?”

  “A priest.”

  “What’s a priest doing in a place like this?” Devon asked gruffly. He walked forward, kanker in hand, firelight reflecting from the steel head.

  “Looking for you,” the priest replied.

  Taking her blade in a two-handed grip, Alana advanced a step on the old woman, until the point rested on her chest. “Why?” she hissed.

  The blue eyes dropped to the blade, then back to Alana. The smile never left the ancient face. “You fought the Arbor,” she said quietly. Her eyes turned on Devon. “You killed one.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Devon growled.

  “The magic of the black trees clings to you like a cloak.” The woman continued as though the giant hammerman had not spoken. “You were fortunate to survive.”

  “The black trees?” Kellian asked calmly. “That’s what you mean by the Arbor?”

  The woman nodded, turning to face the innkeeper.

  “And what do they have to do with you, priest?” he pressed.

  “I hunt them,” the old priest said simply.

  Silence met her answer. Then Devon threw back his head and began to laugh. The booming sound echoed around the courtyard. When it finally faded away, the big man wiped tears from his eyes and looked at the woman. “You hunt them?” he asked. “And how does someone as old as you manage that?”

  The old woman had said nothing as the hammerman laughed, but now a smile of her own spread across her lips. “Like this.”

  Before anyone could react, the woman moved. Short sword suddenly in hand, she lashed out, catching Alana’s sabre just above the hilt. The shock of the impact knocked the blade from Alana’s hand, then a booted foot lashed out to catch her in the chest. Stumbling backwards, she crashed into Kellian and the two of them went down in a heap.

  Cursing, Devon lifted his hammer and swung at the old woman, but she had already slipped below his guard. He froze as the silver steel of her blade touched his throat.

  “Do you need another demonstration?” she asked into the sudden silence.

  Devon carefully shook his head. “I take your point.”

  The woman’s laughter bubbled forth as she sheathed her blade and wandered across to their fire. She sat down with a low groan, only then glancing back at them. “Well, are you going to stand there all night in the cold, or are you going to join me?”

  “Join you?” Alana snapped. Finally managing to disentangle herself from Kellian, she scooped up her sabre and leapt to her feet. “Why don’t you try me in a fair fight, you old hag?”

  The blue eyes flickered up at Alana. She froze mid-stride, reading the danger there. “Put away your blade, girl,” the woman said, her words like ice. “Before I take it from you.”

  Alana swallowed, suddenly lost for words. The threat in the woman’s eyes was unmistakable, and despite their obvious mismatch, she sensed it would be a mistake to attack. After a long moment, she pushed down her anger and sheathed her sabre.

  The smile returned to the woman’s face. “Good girl.” She nodded to the log beside her. “Why don’t you join me and tell me of the Arbor you fought? I would like to hear the tale.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, the four of them shuffled across to join the woman. Embers of rage still burning in her stomach, Alana took the seat across the fire from her. Kellian busied himself with his bag, pulling out a pot and a few stray leaves he’d collected from the jungle. Within a few minutes he had a pot of water bubbling over the fire. Tearing the leaves into smaller pieces, he added them to the pot to make tea.

  “There’s not much to tell,” Alana said shortly. “My brother and I got lost. We stumbled into a clearing, where they attacked us.”

  “But how did you survive?” The priest asked. She leaned forward, the firelight casting shadows across her wrinkled face.

  “We were lucky enough to hear their cries,” Kellian answered. “I helped Alana fight off the vines, while Devon destroyed one of the…Arbor.”

  “Yes,” the priest mused. “Its death lingers on you still, hammerman.”

  Devon shrugged. Lifting his hammer, he held it out to the flames. “It was no match for kanker.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as they alighted on the hammer. “I know that hammer,” she whispered. “Where did you come by it?”

  Devon glanced at his friend before answering. “It has been passed down through my family for generations.”

  A smile appeared on the old woman’s face at that. “The bloodline of Alan runs true.”

  To Alana’s surprise, Devon’s face darkened at the woman’s comment. The hammer slipped from his fingers and struck the cobbles with a sharp crack. Rising, he moved away without speaking, his eyes downcast. He vanished into the trees without a word.

  The strange woman stared after him, confusion on her face. She glanced at Kellian. “Did I say something?”

  “No, my lady,” he replied gently. “Only, his ancestor’s deeds have weighed on him his entire life. It is no easy thing, being descended from a hero.”

  “I am sorry to hear that,” the priest murmured.

  “It is his demon to battle,” Kellian replied. He trailed off a moment, before looking at the old woman again. “I’m afraid we still do not know your name, my lady.”

  The edges of the woman’s eyes crinkled as she laughed. “Forgive my poor manners,” she said. “I have not been amongst civilised company for a long time. I go by Tillie.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Tillie.” Braidon, silent until now, finally spoke.

  “And you, young man,” the priest replied.

  “Braidon,” he added with a smile, “and this is my sister, Alana. And Kellian and Devon.”

  “Pardon my interest,” Kellian broke in as he took up a piece of bamboo and began cutting it into pieces. “but why have you spent so much time in this forest, Tillie?”

  “As I said, I have been hunting the Arbor.”

  Kellian poured the tea into his makeshift bamboo cups and then offered them around the circle. Alana accepted one with a smile, before taking a sip. The tea tasted of rosehip and mint, and smiling, she took another mouthful.

  “But why you?” Kellian asked finally. “I mean no offence, but surely there were younger priests to undertake such a dangerous mission.”

 
Tillie laughed. “You do not pull your blows, young Kellian.” She shook her head, considering his words. “Perhaps I did not wish such youthful lives to be risked in such a dangerous task.”

  “A noble thought,” Kellian offered.

  Tillie grinned. “I did not say it was true though.” She trailed off, her face thoughtful. For a moment, Alana didn’t think she was going to speak. When the words finally came, they were soft, filled with sorrow. “There were others once who stood with me against the darkness. I’m the last of them now, though.”

  “That sounds lonely,” Braidon whispered.

  Reaching out, Alana gripped his hand, thinking of their own plight, their rush to escape the grip of the Tsar.

  As if summoned by her thoughts, the old woman’s eyes turned towards her. “And what brings the two of you into this forest, young Alana?”

  Alana swallowed, seeing again Quinn’s eyes, whispering in her dreams.

  Are you ready?

  “We’re passing through,” she said quickly, determinedly keeping the tremor from her voice. She looked around at the ruin of the temple, as though seeing it for the first time. “What happened to this place?”

  “Sitton was never a large city, but it once served as a waystation between Lon and Ardath, a safe port for ships to dock and resupply. It was destroyed during the final war between Archon and the Gods, when his demon was hunting the Sword of Light.”

  Kellian snorted. “That old myth?” he asked, laughter in his voice. “Surely you don’t believe the Gods were ever foolish enough to hand their powers over to a mere mortal?”

  “Who am I to question history?” the priest replied, her eyes dancing in the firelight. “Even so, there is no question that the God of the Sky met Archon’s demon here. The battle shook the very earth, and in the end Sitton was razed to the ground. Empowered by the demon’s magic, the forest grew up around the city overnight, spreading for leagues and cutting off the ruins from the rest of the world. Amidst that forest, the Arbor took root.”