The Omaja Stone Read online

  “Thank you, Your Highness.”

  Solange pressed a heavy pouch of coins into Jiandra’s hands before taking her leave. “For your expenses and needs while you travel. Gods guide you, my friend.”

  NINE

  Yavi and his brother watched with interest as the sorceress crumbled dried herbs in her hands and sprinkled them over the water in her scrying fountain. A wisp of strange greenish smoke spiraled up, which she inhaled, closing her eyes. She opened her eyes after a moment and peered down into the fountain intently.

  “Nothing. Blast!”

  She extracted a tiny object that looked like a claw or a bird’s beak from a jar and dropped it into the water. The smoke wafting up from the fountain changed to a purple hue. She inhaled deeply and peered into the water.

  “Now the vision comes.”

  Yavi and his brother leaned closer, listening for the sorceress to speak again.

  “I see a woman traveling north from Kingston, but I cannot see her face. What’s this? She’s wearing Lyren’s stone as a pendant around her neck. Conniving thief!” Gerynwid inspected the water again, closer. “Who is this woman? I’ve never seen her before. She’s traveling with two castle guards. She’s young, perhaps twenty years old, and she has reddish-brown hair. She’s wearing a peasant’s plain brown cloak and riding a bay horse. She doesn’t appear to be nobility, so why is she traveling with Solange’s guards?”

  Yajna spoke up. “The woman I saw walking with Solange behind the castle had brown hair and wore a brown peasant’s cloak. It could be the same.”

  “Perhaps.” Gerynwid watched the water. “In any case, she’s headed this way; she’s traveling the Caladian Road with swift determination. It’s a three-day ride to Caladia, so we shall track her progress. But why is she traveling this direction—on what mission? Unless the stone is somehow guiding her to the two of you—to us. Solange may have sent her. Curses!” Gerynwid pushed away from the fountain in irritation, then smiled as if a thought had occurred to her. “We will have to deal with her before she finds us. I shall send a welcoming party to meet her.”

  #

  “Either of you know how far it is to the next village?” Jiandra called over her shoulder. They had been traveling for hours, and it had grown dark. She and Otto were tired and hungry.

  “That would be Broomfield, still eight miles hence,” Brockriede replied. “Shall we stop for the night, set up camp?”

  “Yes, I think we should,” she called back.

  “There’s a bridge up ahead, so there must be a creek nearby,” Logsdon called out.

  They veered off the road and found a clearing near the edge of the creek, then stopped to dismount and set up camp.

  #

  Gerynwid hummed to herself alone at the scrying fountain that night, watching the young woman’s traveling party. “The fools stopped.” She turned away from the fountain and clapped her hands twice, loudly.

  A dark, shadowy wolf-creature slithered up the stairs and entered the tower room. It was unnaturally large and shaped like a muscular, mangy wolf. Its coat was pitch black, its emerald green eyes glowed menacingly, and its lips curled back to reveal rows of long, razor-sharp teeth.

  “My queen?” it growled, its saber-like claws making faint tapping sounds on the stone floor as it paced.

  Gerynwid gazed at the creature, her lips curving into a malicious smile. “I have a task for you, Savager. I shall explain. Take the others with you.”

  #

  The night air was chilly, but the starry sky overhead was lovely. Jiandra shared a loaf of Gracie’s bread with the guards, who ate it with some rabbit they grilled on a spit over a fire that crackled and glowed brilliantly orange against the darkness.

  “By the Gods,” Logsdon swore, mouth full. “That’s the tastiest bread I’ve ever eaten.”

  Jiandra smiled. “Yes, my sister is quite a talented baker.”

  “Is she married?” he grinned, breaking off a larger piece of bread.

  “Hardly!” she laughed. “She’s only thirteen.”

  Brockriede popped another piece of bread into his mouth. “Milady, what do you know of the assassin? Where did you get this tip you spoke of?”

  Jiandra opened her mouth to reply, but just then something spooked the horses. They stamped around skittishly and tossed their heads, whinnying and snorting.

  “Is someone there?” Brockriede called out gruffly, rising to his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword. Logsdon followed suit, and Jiandra stood up as well, grasping the handle of her dagger.

  Brockriede’s question was greeted with silence, save the sputtering of the campfire.

  Something moved in the shadows just at the edge of Jiandra’s peripheral vision; she reached up with her left hand to finger the Omaja stone, peering intently into the wooded darkness, listening.

  They leapt out with a strange catlike agility—a pack of enormous, pitch-black, wolf-like creatures. Their green eyes glowed in the darkness, and they growled low in their throats, baring needle-sharp fangs dripping with saliva. The guards drew their swords, crouching to face off with them.

  Heart pounding, Jiandra gripped the Omaja in her left hand. “Help,” she whispered under her breath to Zehu.

  Two wolves sprang forward and attacked Brockriede, who swung wildly with his sword, connecting. The creatures howled in pain, staggering back, but immediately crouched to charge him again. They leapt again at Brockriede, this time with a third one helping, and pinned him to the ground.

  Jiandra screamed and covered her mouth in horror as they tore viciously at his armor with their teeth. The largest creature trotted toward her with two others following him, and all three of them lunged. She stood still and gripped the stone. Protection, she told herself, cringing a little as the wolves smacked hard against some invisible shield and fell back, stunned and yelping.

  Logdson rushed at the wolf-creatures attacking his comrade. His sword landed powerful blows, sending the wolves tumbling back, howling. He ran after them, managing to slay one of them while the others retreated a bit.

  Brockriede struggled to his feet, limping. He raised his sword and shield, readying himself for another attack, but two of the three remaining creatures leapt past him to lunge at Jiandra. They collided full-force with her protection barrier and fell back, injured. Brockriede slashed at them with his sword, killing them.

  Logsdon swung hard and managed to wound the largest wolf-creature with his greatsword, and it scurried off into the darkness. He and Brockriede limped to Jiandra’s side, covered in sweat, breathing hard.

  Brockriede jammed the tip of his sword into the ground and leaned heavily on it. “What—what happened when those monsters tried to attack you, milady? How did you knock them back?”

  “It’s a, well, it’s a sort of…you see, I found this stone.” She held it up for them to inspect. “It has powers, such as healing.” She grasped Logsdon’s torn, bleeding hand, focusing healing power onto it. The wound sealed over instantly, and stared down at his hand, wriggling his fingers.

  “You’re a sorceress?” he demanded.

  “Well, no, I don’t think so.” She moved to Brockriede, grasped and healed his arm, then reached up to heal a large bleeding gash on his cheek.

  He gingerly touched his cheekbone, feeling for blood and finding it dry. A smile spread over his face. He and Logsdon stared down at the glowing purplish-blue stone she held in her hand.

  “Do you have any other wounds from the attack? I can heal them as well.”

  Brockriede indicated a large, gory bite on his thigh, grimacing in pain. “They got my leg, here.”

  She leaned down to inspect the wound. “Umm, pardon my, ah…” She quickly touched his thigh with her right hand, healing it, then turned to Logsdon. “What about you?”

  “They got my calf.” He positioned his leg so she could see, and she reached down to heal it.

  Logsdon grinned. “I think might have also injured my groin. About right here.” He lifted the edge of
his armor a bit.

  Brockrided slapped his hand away. “All right, that’s enough, Logsdon. Let’s get these carcasses cleared away from camp. Then milady can tell us how she found this stone.”

  #

  “My pet!” Gerynwid wailed, holding the wounded blackwolf’s head in her arms. “Here, drink this.” She poured a vial of glowing crimson liquid down his throat.

  “The woman possesses powerful magic, my queen,” the wolf rasped after swallowing the potion. “She has a protection shield that couldn’t be breached. Her guards killed everyone but me.”

  “Never fear, Savager,” she vowed through gritted teeth. “I will annihilate her.” She rose to her feet and stalked out of the tower room. As she descended the spiral staircase, Ujagar’s voice sang his agreement in her head: Dagger slice through her rosy flesh, blade slicing deep and slow…Feed my hunger, Sorceress! Rage pulsed rhythmically through her veins with the increasing intensity of Ujagar’s chanting, until she reached Yavi and Yajna’s quarters, and then it stopped.

  She threw open their door. “She knows the hidden powers of the stone. She used it as a weapon against my blackwolves.”

  Yavi rose to his feet. “What sort of weapon?”

  “A shield of some kind, apparently. Five of my blackwolves are dead. Do you know how long it takes to breed and raise a good blackwolf? Villainous wench! She almost killed the pack leader!”

  “We can track her down. We will take the magical stone,” Yajna swore.

  “No, you cannot simply ambush her, not with that stone around her neck. My blackwolves took her by surprise, yet she bested them easily. It’s too risky.” Gerynwid paced, trying to calm herself. She pressed her fingertips to her temples, struggling to collect her thoughts. “We will have to contrive a more cunning scheme.”

  TEN

  Jiandra and her guards rode past the wheat, corn, and cotton fields of the flat, open midsection of Villeleia until eventually the clustered houses of the outskirts of Broomfield came into view. Outside the village, an older came woman running down the road toward them, crying hysterically.

  Jiandra slowed Otto to a stop and dismounted. “Woman! What is the matter?”

  The woman stumbled closer. She had matted silvery-white hair, silver eyes, stained and tattered skirts, and her shoes were full of holes.

  “They took him! They took my son!”

  “Who took your son, madam?”

  “The soldiers! They took him to the stockade! They’ll kill him!” The woman crumpled to the ground, bowing her face to the dusty road. Her shoulders shook with violent sobs.

  Jiandra knelt next to her and placed a hand on her back. She glanced back at her guards. Logsdon wore a stone-faced expression, and Brockriede’s was obscured by his helmet.

  “Calm yourself, madam. I will help you find your son.”

  “No! You will take me to the stockade as well!” The woman pushed herself to her feet.

  Jiandra held her bone-thin shoulders to keep her in place. “I swear I will not harm you. I will help. Here, take my cloak. Draw the hood over your head.”

  As the woman complied, Jiandra looked back at her guards. “Either of you have a problem with me helping this woman? Speak up now.”

  Brockriede hesitated. “I—I have no objections, milady.”

  “What about you, Logsdon? You’re free to turn back now if you have any reservations about me helping a Nandal.”

  He shifted in his saddle. “We have a sworn duty to protect you, milady. What you do while we’re protecting you is your choice, I suppose.”

  Jiandra turned back to the Nandal woman. “Where is the stockade where they have your son?”

  “Near the guard headquarters in the square.”

  “All right. I’ll go and try to free him. If you wish to wait for me, hide in the woods here near this bridge. I’ll look for you in that area when I return. If you choose to keep fleeing, your son can either hide himself somewhere or go looking for you—I’ll leave it up to him.”

  The old woman nodded. “I will hide and wait for you here.”

  “What is your son’s name?”

  “Verlandis, milady.” A faint smile of relief softened the woman’s expression.

  Jiandra squeezed her shoulders comfortingly. “We’ll return as soon as we can.”

  She mounted Otto and set out for Broomfield with her guards following. As they approached the village, she slowed and turned to the men.

  “I know I’m deviating from our mission. But I won’t sit by and do nothing when an old woman is in such pain. So I repeat: if either of you are uncomfortable with me helping this woman, you are free to return to Solange now. You can tell her the truth; you don’t have to conceal my actions or try to protect me from her disapproval.”

  Brockriede regarded her solemnly. “I am staying with you and seeing you safely home, as the queen requested.”

  “What about you, Logsdon?”

  Logsdon shrugged. “I take no issue with it.”

  “What I am doing is bothering you, isn’t it, Logsdon? Admit it, for Pete’s sake.”

  He frowned. “Milady, I take no sides on the issue of the Nandals. No Nandal has ever crossed me, and I harbor no ill feelings toward ’em. On the other hand, I’ve never gone out of my way to help any of ’em either. Am I willing to take on the entire company of soldiers in Broomfield, on behalf of this woman and her son? No, but I’ll protect you as best I can, no matter what you decide.”

  Brockriede rested his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I say our best plan is to find the Nandal assassin quickly so we can put an end to this paranoia and the infighting amongst our countrymen. If you believe the assassin is in the area of Caladia, perhaps we should decide what we can do to help the old woman’s son, and do it, so that we may speed on our way.”

  Jiandra sighed. “You’re right. You two wait at a tavern, and I will go to the stockade and the son, try to convince the guards to release him to me. Don’t trouble yourselves on my behalf—I can’t be hurt or killed because the stone protects me.”

  “No,” Brockriede interjected. “I’m guarding you, not the tavern. I won’t allow you to go off alone.”

  “The stone will protect me. You’ve seen it work. Nothing can harm me while I wear it.”

  “I am going with you nevertheless. If you are going to help a prisoner escape, you will at least need a diversion or some sort of assistance. Logsdon can stay behind if he so chooses.”

  “All right, fine,” Jiandra agreed. “It’s almost dark. Logsdon, do you have any objections to our plan?”

  “In truth, I think you’re both taking a risk,” he grumbled. “But I’ll go along with it.”

  “You’ll stay at a tavern, and wait for us then?”

  “Aye.”

  #

  In Caladia, Gerynwid cocked her head to one side, watching the scene in the scrying fountain curiously, tapping her long fingernails on its rim.

  Yavi and Yajna entered the tower room. “Any news, Sorceress?”

  Gerynwid shook her head. “The woman’s behavior makes no sense to me. I hardly know what to make of it. Come closer, both of you. I shall teach you to see in the fountain so you can witness this madness for yourselves.”

  The twins were fast learners in the mystic art of scrying, and after the three of them had watched the Villeleian woman’s actions for a few moments, Gerynwid snorted, “As you can see, she’s a do-gooder, running around helping Nandals! Useless!”

  Yavi and Yajna did not join in her laughter.

  She caught sight of their stone-faced expressions. “I mean no offense, gentlemen, but who does she think she is, some sort of heroine, some ‘Defender of the Nandals?’”

  They made no response.

  She waved a hand at the fountain in disgust. “I find myself extremely disappointed. This girl is not worthy of concern. She’s too preoccupied with earning her laurel wreaths with the Gods to focus any effort into locating the assassin! All you two need do is sit here on your bums
. At this rate it’ll be years before she bothers to show up to capture you! Come, lads.” She cleared the scene in the fountain with a wave of her hand and moved toward the staircase. “Let’s leave this ridiculous farce for now. Svana will be serving supper in the dining hall.”

  ELEVEN

  The moon was high in the sky as Jiandra and Brockriede set out on horseback for the center of town.

  “What is your plan?” he asked as they neared the square.

  “I don’t know yet.” Jiandra drew her hood up over her head. “Let’s go examine the stockade, see if we can find this Verlandis fellow. If we’re asked, we’ll say I’m Lady Snowden of Cutterview Forest, and you are my guard.”

  Soon the stockade came into view, as well as the armed guards posted outside it. A spiked fence had been erected, corralling a sizable group of Nandals. A small mob of Villeleians was gathered outside the fence, bickering back and forth.

  “My crops will die in the ground without my Nandal workers! Release my hired help!” a tall, barrel-chested, red-headed man thundered at the soldiers.

  His comment was met with hissing and booing.

  Another fellow in the crowd raised a fist in the air. “No release for the Nandals! Soldiers, do your jobs! Rid our land of the filthy Nandals once and for all!”

  “I’ve brought five other farmers with me,” the red-haired giant roared. “Our farmhands had nothing to do with the assassination attempt against the queen. They were working that day, getting our crops out of the fields!”

  “We take responsibility for them,” one of his comrades chimed in. “If any of my workers commits a crime, I’ll hang him myself!”

  “You would defy the order of the queen?” the captain of the guard threatened. “You farmers had better learn your place and reconsider your loyalties.”

  “Here, here!” shouted others in the angry crowd. “Nandals go back to Nandala!” A group of guards on horseback used their shields to push the noisy mob away from the stockade a bit, ordering them to disperse.