Page 25 of Ashes of Xy (Blood of Xy #1)

Forever after, all Orval could remember of the start of that day was chaos.

Breakfast was water and bread, shoved into their hands first thing. They’d barely finished eating when they were hustled out of bed and told to dress; they could, the soldiers said to their protests, nurse on the road. Orval was fair certain none of these guards had children. Both Lara and Dalan were crying in their baskets before he and Amari had cleaned the babes and themselves and gotten dressed.

Carrying the babes in their baskets into the cold air, Orval had the impression that a crowd had gathered, but he was focused on getting down the damn steps without dropping Dalan. The cheering was startling but he had no chance to respond, for the guards kept them moving, almost lifting Orval and Dalan into the carriage. Amari and Lara followed and the door was shut firmly.

One bench was free, the other filled with boxes and crates below a mound of bundles and sacks, the whole surmounted by their noble robes piled on top.

Orval and Amari were still arranging themselves on the wooden bench, the babes between them, when he heard Winter arguing with Ussin just outside. The carriage door opened and Orval caught a glimpse of Winter’s tear-stained face as Ussin thrust in a basket before practically slamming the door.

With the new basket at his feet, Orval grabbed for Dalan as the carriage lurched forward. Amari had Lara in her arms, trying to comfort her.

“What in the name of the Lord and Lady is the rush?” Amari said as they rattled along.

“More to the point, why are we heading toward the Palace?” Orval tried to soothe Dalan as he looked out the small window in the door. “Another audience, maybe?”

Amari was trying to undo her dress, trying to juggle Lara. “I hope she can latch on,” she said.

“The horses can’t keep this fast a pace forever,” Orval said. “Here, let me take her, until you get settled.”

With both babes in his arms, Orval scrunched his nose and pursed his lips, making kissing noises at them. Dalan stopped crying, staring with wide eyes. Lara wasn’t fooled, her face scrunched up and fists flailing.

“Come, little one,” Amari reached out and took her back. “Let’s get some milk in that grumpy belly.”

Orval rocked Dalan, peering out the window as streets and people flashed by, noting the open palace gates as the carriage rumbled through and came to a halt. “Odd, what’s the Mage Guildmaster doing here at this hour?”

“There’s another carriage,” Amari was looking out her side as Lara nursed.

“And another mage,” Orval sucked in a breath as he saw the blindfolded horses. “Amari, I think—”

The carriage jerked forward and the world went white.

It lasted for seconds, the glare blazing inside his eyelids. Orval’s stomach flipped and his ears popped. The air he managed to take in was cold as ice.

“Orval,” Amari sounded shocked. Her eyes were wide, her brown skin ashen. “What was that?”

Both babes started screaming their heads off.

Orval cursed and placed Dalan in his basket. “Just a moment, little one,” he said as he got to his feet, careful to keep his balance as he reached up and pulled down the furred cloaks. He glimpsed the outside world as he moved and nearly collapsed at the sight. “Look out the window,” he said, almost gasping.

“The city is gone,” Amari’s voice held a note of sheer terror. “Orval, the city is gone! It’s just fields of snow.” She whipped her head around to look at him, clutching a crying Lara to her breast. “Cities don’t just disappear.”

“Amari, we need to think on the babes,” Orval said, growing steadier as he focused on the tasks at hand. Your cloak’s not enough in this cold, so let’s get you wrapped up and Lara seen to.”

It took some doing, but at last the furred cloak was wrapped around her from head to toe, even covering her legs and making a warm nest. “Looks like these damn things will be good for something,” Orval said as he arranged his own nest and brought Dalan into its shelter. “Sorry, my little man, but we menfolk have to look after our ladies first, you know.” Orval curled his finger and offered the baby his knuckle. Dalan grabbed for it and mouthed the skin, making sucking sounds as he slobbered.

Better than wailing, Orval figured.

“What do you think happened?” Amari had calmed and Lara was sucking strongly.

“A portal,” Orval said grimly. “A very expensive way to get somewhere quickly.”

“All the faster to see us dead,” she said.

“Perhaps,” Orval said. “Most like, in fact.”

“I’m frightened,” Amari whispered, her eyes filling with tears.

“Really?” Orval asked. “Just frightened? Because I am terrified.”

Her snort was more sob than laugh, but she smiled at him. Orval smiled back. “In truth, lady, I have no idea what to expect from the next hour. But this basket likely has some decent food, maybe a flask of kavage, if I know Winter. We have two babes to care for and ourselves to see to. We will deal with what comes far better if there’s food in all our bellies.” He reached his hand to her. “We are in this together,” he said.

Amari nodded, clasping his hand. Her fingers were cold, but warmed swiftly. “Together,” she said before releasing him.

Orval balanced Dalan and started to look through the basket.

“Do you suppose there is pease porridge?” Amari said, a light tease in her voice despite her tears.

“Why ever not?” Orval lifted his chin. “It’s warm and filling and cheap, you know.”

That time, her laughter wasn’t feigned.

A few hours later, Orval had had enough.

The babes were sleeping well enough, but Amari was clearly uncomfortable and well she should be. Orval banged on the side of the carriage and yelled out the window for Ussin.

Ussin rode up, keeping pace with the carriage, with not much more than his eyes showing under his hat and scarves. He nodded when Orval made his request, then urged his horse forward, yelling orders. Wasn’t long before the carriage was off the road and stopped.

“Thank the Lord and Lady,” Amari said wearily.

Ussin ordered his men to keep their eyes peeled, swords and crossbows at the ready. Some were stomping out a flat area in the snow, for use as a privy. One guard had set up a small metal stove and started a fire in the base.

“You first,” Orval said. “I’ll stay with the babes.” He grabbed her arm. “Don’t wander far,” he warned her.

Grim-faced, she nodded. When the door opened, she took Ussin’s hand to climb down.

“Stay in sight,” Ussin said gruffly. “I’ll give ya as much privacy as I can, but be quick.

Amari nodded and went off alone in the direction he indicated.

“You want help?” Ussin asked, peering in without meeting Orval’s eyes. “We’re stopping long enough for a hot drink and to see to the horses. Might want to stretch yer legs while ya can.”

Orval hesitated.

“They be well?” Ussin asked, nodding at the baskets with what looked like honest concern.

“They’re sleeping,” Orval said. “I’ll step out, but not far. I want to hear them if they rouse.” He winced as he went to stand; the leg had stiffened up on him. Ussin made no move to aid but made no comment. He closed the door gently once Orval was on the ground. “Keep the heat in,” he muttered.

Orval gave him a nod and took a moment to look around. Empty fields as far as he could see, with woods in the distance. The snow was deep and pristine, but the road seemed traveled. Behind him were wagons with what had to be their belongings. Their bed frame was strapped to the top of one, looking forlorn.

The warriors around him all seemed on edge, a wary eye on their surroundings even as they saw to themselves and their horses.

Amari came back, wrapping her cloak close. “All well?” she asked. Her eyes widened as she looked toward the front of the procession.

There was another carriage there, with two people emerging.

Following her gaze, Orval’s jaw dropped. “Rosalind? Captain Roth?”

“Privy’s there,” Ussin pointed. “Stay alert,” he roared and moved off, clearly wanting to avoid any talk. Roth helped Rosalind walk toward them.

“Lord High Baron,” Rosalind said in greeting. She looked exhausted and cold.

“I rather think that we can skip the formalities,” Orval said dryly, “given the circumstances.”

“Aye.” Roth’s eyes flicked to the guards nearby.

“Come,” Amari said to Rosalind, gently grasping the older woman’s arm. The two of them walked off together.

“There’s something you need to see, in our carriage,” Roth said.

“Not ‘til Amari returns,” Orval said. “Our babes sleep within.”

“Agreed,” Roth pressed his hands into his armpits.

Orval leaned against the carriage, the cold starting to bite through his cloak. He took his turn at the privy once the women were done. When he returned, limping, Rosalind and Roth had retreated to stand by the lead carriage. They were looking at him with grim expressions.

“Lara and Dalan are still sleeping, praise be,” Amari said. “But you need to go to Rosalind and Roth.”

Orval limped over, careful to watch his footing in the snow. Roth opened the door and Orval looked in.

“Aunt Xydell?” He could hardly have been more surprised.

She was stretched out on a bench and covered by a heavy blanket. Orval struggled into the carriage and put his hand to her cold, pale face. “Is she dead?”

Rosalind had climbed in behind him. “A near thing,” she whispered. “She fought them, you see, and they drugged her. Letheon, I suspect. Who knows when she will wake—”

“Or if,” Orval growled.

“Hey there, what ya be doing?” came a cry.

Roth turned and Orval lunged for the door, fearing the worst. But Amari was also looking back at the wagons.

Two guards were tussling with a lad, yanking him from between some of the crates. They backed off fast when the boy drew knives and slashed at them.

“Yfin?” Roth roared and charged forward, which was when Orval realized that the man had no sword.

Ussin shouted an order and the guards pulled farther back.

Roth fell to his knees before the boy, who was blue and shaking with the cold. “Lord of the Sun, lad, what are you doing here?” He asked as he took the blades from the child’s hands.

“Cap’n, I saw them grab ya and take ya,” the boy gestured at Ussin. “An’ the old lady bid me follow ya, said there’s honor in your sword. So here I be.”

Roth shook his head. “Lad, this isn’t a good place for you. You—”

“He’s here, he stays,” Ussin barked, holding his hand out for the knives. “He’d not have a warm welcome if I took him back.”

Roth handed the weapons to him and got to his feet, swinging his own cloak over the lad.

Ussin looked at the sky. “We needs get hot kavage in the men and finish up here quick like.”

Orval stomped up to him as best he could given the footing, shivering with what he hoped was anger. Ussin stared at him in shock, but could not be half as shocked as Orval himself as he felt himself glaring at the man. “If you’re going to kill us, do it now and spare us any more torture in that carriage.”

Orval heard the others exclaim with half an ear; he was focused on Ussin, who seemed honestly horrified.

“What?” Ussin gaped as every one of his men watched. “No! Those are not my orders.”

“Do I see supplies in those carts? Do I see a contingent of guards under Captain Roth’s command?” Orval demanded. “I don’t. We are being sent to our deaths.”

“There are supplies,” Ussin said weakly, spreading his hands wide.

“Doubtful. So if you are going to kill us, do it now.” Orval crossed his arms over his chest.

“None of that,” Ussin growled, his face reddening. “My orders are to deliver you all to the Keep of the Black Hills and return to Edenrich.” But we needs be back to where we arrived, for when the portal opens,” Ussin looked about, “to get my men safe home.

“There’s no welcome here for us,” he said, scanning the horizon. Then he caught himself and gave a big, false grin. “You’ll be fine, once we get you to the Keep. So hurry up with that,” he yelled at the soldier tending the stove. The water was boiling.

The guards all turned back to their tasks as Ussin stomped off between the carriages.

Orval huffed a breath as Amari came up behind him, pressing her shoulder to his. “Orval,” she whispered, and he heard horror and fear in her voice.

“Sorry,” he put his head toward hers.

“Kavage,” Roth said as he thrust a rough clay mug at Amari.

“Wait,” Rosalind reached over and took the mug before Amari could. She smelled the mug, took a sip, then nodded and handed it back to Amari.

“The men are drinking,” Orval said. “Ussin wouldn’t poison his own men.”

“Satia would,” Rosalind said quietly as she, Roth, and Yfin drank.

The pit in Orval’s stomach grew even as he gulped down his own kavage. His fear rose but he fought it down. “We would be warmer with us all together,” he said loudly. “And we could keep an eye on my Aunt.”

“Good idea,” Roth agreed. “I’ll fetch her.”

It wasn’t that easy, of course, but thankfully Ussin agreed with Orval’s decision. The guards help shift the boxes and Roth carried Xydell over, still wrapped in her blankets.

Orval stood and watched, knowing he’d be more hindrance than help. Amari was directing the guards and keeping them away from the babes.

Ussin came up beside Orval and stood beside him in awkward silence, shifting his weight from foot to foot. In the past, Orval might have said something to ease the man, but he remembered the fear in Amari’s eyes.

Ussin broke first. “Not that much longer now,” he muttered. “A few hours at most.”

Orval drew in air and let it out slowly, watching as his breath formed a cloud in the cold.

“You can see it there.” Ussin pointed. “Just the towers, on the horizon.”

The carriages were ready. Orval left Ussin standing there as he walked to his place.

Just before he climbed in, Orval turned to look where Ussin had pointed. He could just make out the tops of the towers against the glare of the snow.

The Keep of the Black Hills.