Masquerading

7. Into The Wilds

LOOMING around them, in all its awe-inspiring colourful glory, was the Wilds. Greens so bright and vivid, yellows that almost glowed, oranges and pinks the likes which they'd never laid eyes on before. From the outside it had been quiet, as if a magical barrier held noise in, but sounds of life exploded as soon as they entered. Despite its beauty, they moved as one, crowded so close together their horses were touching. The place posed so many threats, from the creatures that lived there to the vines that hung down from trees.

Leif's mind was occupied by the severity of the implications of what had happened before they entered the Wilds. It shouldn't have been possible; Leif, nor any of his companions, knew of magic strong enough to allow control of an eerie creature. The chilling thought that Loricus had such a thing—and likely help from someone unknown—surged fluids from his stomach into his mouth.

"A thought has been plaguing me for some time." Kyden, at the front of their line, interrupted his thoughts. Leif could only see the tail of his mount, taken from a fallen Loricai soldier. "Why did the Princess not sing?"

The revelation almost stopped Leif in his tracks; why indeed? The question repeated in his mind; why hadn't she sung?

"Had the Princess sung, the Loricai soldiers would be imprisoned, and we would all be in the palace enjoying a gargantuan luncheon to celebrate the Princess choosing her betrothed."

"What's this about singing?"

Kyden gaped at Killi at the back of the group, "The royal family of Aradanas is descended from the Mermine." When this elicited no understanding, he sighed, "My father once told me that hearing a true Aradane royal sing was a thing of bewitchment, like the song of the mermaids that sailors follow to their dooms."

"The Princess' captors would have been caught in her enthrall," Killi mused, finally understanding. "Why didn't she sing?"

"She forgot!"

"Forgot?" Killi eyed Leif skeptically, ignoring the pained disbelief in his voice. "How does one forget they can drown entire ships by singing?"

"Princess Leyva doesn't sing," Leif sniped coldly. "She doesn't much enjoy imprisoning those she loves with her singing."

Leif bit his lip in frustration, feeling a sense of responsibility and disappointment take hold in the pit of his stomach. How had he forgotten?

"It doesn't matter," he said finally. "This vein of speculation will not help us rescue her. Kyden, do you see any indicators of which way they went?"

Long spiked leaves of fan trees brushed over their bodies as they followed Kyden through them. They had been one of Leif's childhood favourites for their shape, framing palace doors like crowns on urns. He absently caressed them as he tried to explain tracking in the jungle to Tavis. The inept lord had exceeded Leif's impression of him with how he'd endeavored—despite his inexperience with weapons—to not be a detriment on this journey.

His knowledge of healing was both the biggest surprise and benefit to the rest of them. Leif could not say he'd have thought to stitch Kyden's arm with strands of horsehair, or even known how to prepare the hair. It was apparent that Tavis had not spent much time learning how to be the archetypal lord, but he had spent more than enough time shadowing Miah's healers. Leif found it fascinating, and vowed not to dismiss the young lord again.

A terrified yell wrenched Leif's attention from Tavis and to the others. On the ground, Killi was doing everything he could to hold Kyden's horse up, its legs scrabbling for purchase on the edge of a drop. Kyden, however, was nowhere to be seen. Tossing his reins to Tavis, Leif leapt from his mount and peered over the edge. They would not save the animal, that much was certain looking at its broken leg and the incline of the drop. But Killi's strained efforts were keeping Kyden from being crushed under its weight at the bottom of the gully.