Page 13 of Winds of Destiny

Turo

It feels wrong to leave Cam’s side, even though I know he doesn’t want me there. That’s clear in a hundred little ways—how he ignores my attempts to meet his gaze, how he angles his body away from me at all times, how he raises his voice as we greet the Dellians at breakfast, then banters exclusively with his new “husband” before we’ve even passed through the city gate. He wants nothing to do with me, and while we’ve fought before, I worry that, this time, I might not have time to make amends before I lose my chance.

You would think that would make me want to stay by his side and press my attention, but no. Push Cam, and he’ll push back twice as hard. Bruise him, and he won’t be satisfied until you bleed. He needs space, and if I don’t give it to him, he’ll enforce it by distancing me in ways that hurt even more. Cam can speak in a way that’s so cutting that you’ve lost your tongue by the end of it.

So, as much as I hate it, I know I need to let him have some distance from me. His Dellian escort will watch after him in my absence.

They’d better, or I’ll cut every one of their throats, marriage be damned.

My excuse about going to look for tracks isn’t even an excuse. I need to know where those chariots are headed. They didn’t appear out of nowhere, but I saw no sign of them when I tracked a less mobile group of predatory bandits south, and I should have. So where were they hiding, and how did they know when to strike?

Finding tracks is easy enough. The attack on Doric and the Dellians was only three days ago now. It seems impossibly recent. I look at the crushed grass, green and gold and purple bent under the weight of rolling wheels and stained here and there with blood. The largest chariot, the one with the fucker who’d come after Cam, is the one I follow away from the scene. I have to head perpendicular to the direction Cam is going right now, but I’ll be able to catch up soon enough.

There’s a trick to making it through these tall grasses without leaving a trail. It’s simple enough—as long as you never stay in one spot for more than a few seconds, the grass will spring right back up after you’ve passed through. That’s less true for heavy chariots, and the lions’ claws have left gouges in the dirt that make it easier to follow their marks—for now. But in a week? I’d see nothing but smooth grassland, untouched by the passage of men and their devices.

Still, I crouch low as I go and keep a dagger in my hand, just in case I meet up with something I’m not expecting. It pays to be cautious— it’s hard to be too cautious, Turo . Doric told me that over and over during our time together. You can’t be too cautious, too prepared, or too well-trained. Do it again. Faster, harder—better, boy! You’re to be the eyes of the king and the sword and shield of the prince! Prove you deserve to be here! Go again! Again!

I shake my head. Doric was a hard man to learn from, but I never held that against him. He knew better than most the challenges facing our city, and he made sure I knew them, too. If I had to learn some of them with the help of the switch, so be it.

I follow the tracks farther east for another hour, stopping only to drink water and climb the nearest berm to make sure I can still see where Cam and the Dellians are plodding along in the distance. Those rams hauling their wagons are sturdy, but they’re not creatures meant to speed over the waves of the plain. That’s good.

Will Cam have to learn to handle them once he gets to Huridell? He’d better, just to be safe, in case he ever needs to make use of them. I’ll have to ask Kai to see that it happens. It feels strange to think of Cam in terms of other people, but that’s another painful reality I need to adjust to.

Get your head back in the hunt. Focus. I turn my attention back to the ground and keep going east. It takes another hour of tracking for the evidence of the chariots to finally vanish, and that’s only because the ground has become too marshy for even fresh tracks to last. But how? Where have they gone? As far as the inland sea? Lions might be able to swim, but those big, heavy chariots likely can’t float. Or if they can, they’d be the most ungainly rafts ever. So what happened here?

I don’t know, but it leaves me with a terrible feeling of uncertainty. I lean in toward the marshland, pick out a puddle, and, after plucking a long blade of grass, dip it under the surface of the little pool. Perhaps it doesn’t stay marshy in this section. Perhaps there’s more solid ground beyond this little stretch—

A scaly, wedge-shaped green head pops out of the water like a fish, snapping its fangs at the end of the grass and neatly severing the tip. I drop the stalk and immediately backtrack until there’s solid ground beneath my feet again, but that’s not far enough to stop the beast. It follows me onto the land, coiling for a strike and leaping straight for my face.

I dodge to the side, pull my knife, and cut off the last few inches of the viper’s tail as it flies past me. Blood sprays my face, and I wipe it off fast. I’ve never seen a water viper strike so aggressively before. I shouldn’t be seeing a water viper here at all ; they don’t like fresh water, they’re coastal creatures. What the hells…

I’ve injured this one badly enough that self-preservation instincts take over. It flees into the grass, but another two are already coming out of the water. One is red, one is orange, and both are pursuing me just as aggressively as the first did. The closest strikes low at my boot. Fine, it won’t bite through the leather. I ignore it and parry the other’s knee-level attack, swiping it to the side with the flat of my blade and following up with a hammer-like chop to the middle of its back.

It isn’t until I feel the tension of coils around my calf that I realize my mistake. The viper didn’t stop at biting at my boot—it’s climbing my body, searching for a soft spot to sink its fangs into. I swipe my blade down toward my leg, hoping against hope I’m fast enough to stop it from biting me.

“Mew!” A little black cat small enough to sit in my hands appears at my feet. It leaps up and bites the viper just behind the head a second before it can sink its fangs into me. The creature writhes and twists, curling backward in an effort to tangle my savior, but the cat is nimble and dodges its coils. It bites down so hard that it severs the viper’s neck, and, a few seconds after that, the pest finally stops moving.

The cat saunters over to where I’m standing, enervated and dumbfounded at once, and drops the decapitated head at my feet. “Mew.”

“What are you doing here?” I murmur as I bend down to pet her, my heart easing despite myself.

I never know when this cat is going to turn up—she’s never shown her face in Zephyth, but I’ve seen her all over the continent during my travels. I’m not sure why, and I don’t know that it’s a mystery I even want to solve. Something about her tugs at my mind, leading it into dark places full of memories better left forgotten.

No, I don’t need or want to dwell on this little cat’s origins. I’ve never told anyone about her: not Doric, nor even Cam. She’s something just for me, and the way my life is going I’m going to need all the distractions I can get once Cam…once he…

The cat makes a meep sound and butts her head against my fingertips. I scratch behind her ear and under her chin, enjoying the feel of silky fur against my hand and the way she nuzzles at my palm. It’s easy, simple affection, and I’m grateful for it. “You be careful,” I tell the cat. “No wandering into the marshes and ending up as a viper’s dinner.” For either of us.

She meows and rolls onto her back, baring a furry belly. I pet her for exactly three seconds there before she claws me, gets up, and stalks off into the grass. A moment later, it was almost as though I’d never have known she was there in the first place .

I shake my hand, inspecting the three small, bleeding scratches on the back of it with a sigh. “Of course,” I mutter, then climb up and look out over the grasses again. I scan the horizon, but I can’t see Cam anymore.

I can’t see Cam.

My heart is racing before my mind realizes that I’m panicking. I know there’s no real reason to be afraid, not when he’s surrounded by Dellians and I can’t find any trace of our attackers the other day, but logic doesn’t calm me. Only one thing will do that—seeing Cam for myself. It’s time to run.

There’s a particular lope I learned as a boy that lets me eat up the distance without making my lungs feel as though they’re about to burst. It’s not stealthy, but I don’t care about stealth right now. I care about getting Camrael back where he belongs, squarely in my sight. He won’t appreciate it—he never has, not even when we aren’t fighting—but his appreciation comes second to ensuring his safety.

I run, breathing steadily, pumping my arms and stretching my legs. My armor is lightweight, and my sword is strapped across my back to keep it from banging against my thigh. I catalog everything I see as I run: grouse in grassy tunnels ducking out of sight as soon as they spot me, dun-colored, short-snouted lizards on the hunt for eggs, and hordes of multicolored mice. There are even a few fruiting bushes, not common this far south, but I don’t want to spare the time. Cam and the Dellians have set a fairly rapid pace—probably Cam’s doing—and it takes a focused effort to recover my lost ground.

By the time I catch up with them, the sun is on the far side of the sky and they’ve stopped the wagons in the bottom of one of the shallower ruts. It’s a bit early for making camp, but glancing back, I see that Zephyth’s spires are still just within view. This is probably a deliberate choice on Kai’s part, a way to give Cam one last evening with his home. It’s the sort of thoughtful, compassionate move I would expect from Cam’s proxy husband, damn the bastard. I appreciate his thoughtfulness for Cam’s sake, but I’m not about to start liking him.

“Back at last!” Rusen—of course it’s him, twice as loud and obnoxious as any of the other Dellians—calls out as I enter the camp. “You look like you’ve been busy, Lord Turo. Very…” He smirks and wipes theatrically at his brow. “Sweaty. Nice run, then, huh?”

“Vigorous,” I reply, not bothering to make eye contact with him. I only have eyes for Cam, but apart from a brief glance my way as I entered the little circle they’ve set up, he’s ignoring me completely. Still furious, then.

Great.

They’ve done a decent job with the camp, at least. There’s no breaking out the tents yet—several of the Dellians have waxed poetic about how nice it is to be able to sleep under the stars without the cold biting into their bodies—but the bedrolls are down and there’s a fire going. It’s giving off very little smoke, which means that someone knows what he’s doing.

“And did you learn anything while you were running all over the place like a newborn lamb?” Rusen asks, apparently not liking that I’m ignoring him. “Spy any enemies hiding out there? Fight a lion or two?”

Several of the other Dellians chuckle. Kai stays silent, watching me—he’s waiting for a report, I realize.

I address him directly, still ignoring his abrasive second-in-command. “I followed the chariot tracks as far inland as I could. They disappeared into marshland after a few miles, though.”

Kai frowns in thought. “Are you sure they didn’t turn off?”

“Not that I could tell.”

“Is it common for the edge of the marshland to shift?”

It’s a good question. He’s smart, which he’ll need to be to keep up with Cam…who’s still ignoring me. It hurts more than it should. I’m the one who took a step away first. Too bad I didn’t bring my heart with me. “It does happen, but we haven’t had any rains over the past several days. There’s no good reason for the tracks to stop there.”

“Could they have sunk the chariots and gone off in some other direction?”

“It’s possible,” I concede, “although why they’d give up perfectly good equipment like that is beyond me.”

“Easy,” Rusen says. “We whipped them at their own game, and they decided to cut their losses and retreat in a way that’s less easy to track. Or they lost control of their lions—bloodthirsty Antasean beasts. Chariots would be of no use without them.”

“Did you take the time to look at them?” I ask, irritated that I have to deal with Rusen when Kai is right there. “Those were heavy-duty war chariots. A lot of money and effort went into making them. That’s not the sort of thing you simply discard—and they wouldn’t have left them there, anyhow.”

“Why not?” one of the other men asks.

“The water was teeming with vipers.”

That gets a reaction from Cam. “Water vipers so far inland? Are you all right?” he asks, then immediately looks like he regrets it. Obviously I’m all right, but I’m warmed by the fact that he asked.

“Fine, but they’re out of place, and it’s making them aggressive.”

“How can they be out of place?” Rusen asks. “They’re water vipers —it’s right there in the name. I think you’re making excuses.”

“I think you’re a piece of—”

“I agree with Lord Turo.”

Every eye turns to Kai, even Cam’s. “Those chariots were fine work,” he goes on. “I know that even my prince would think twice about discarding such an effective weapon. We don’t have a good answer for where the Kamorans went, which means we need to keep a sharp lookout as we travel and stay away from the inland sea as best we can. We’ll take watch shifts, three hours apiece, until we’re safely inside the Gate.”

He looks straight at me. “I should have asked this before, but are you going to be all right returning to Zephyth on your own? Would it be better if we gave you an escort?”

I’m surprised he’s thinking of me at all. “I’ll be fine on my own,” I reply.

“Naturally,” Cam mutters under his breath, his voice full of disdain. “Since ‘on your own ’ seems to be your preference.”

Shit. I’ve still got a lot of work to do to lessen his hurt. I love him—it shouldn’t be so hard to remind him of that. I wouldn’t leave him if I hadn’t been directly ordered to by the king.

I’ve got a few weeks to try and improve things with Cam. Surely I’ll break through to him at some point?

If I don’t, I might have to accept that the price of my choice is a broken heart that will never heal.