Priestess

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

“We may as well move on. If we stop, we’ll have nothing but mud for a bed and rain for a blanket. At least this way, we’ll make to Ahdlyn by morning,” Jarrer said.

Ara hunched her cloak higher over her shoulders. There would be no dry wood for a fire. No hot meal or warm blanket. Even with her cloak, she was sodden. She shivered violently.

Lightening flashed, revealing harsh shapes against even harsher shadows. On neglected fields, makeshift tents made of blankets or patched together clothing littered the ground like refuse. Any fires that had been burning were long since doused by the downpour, the inhabitants seeking what shelter they could inside.

As morning drew closer, the clouds fled. Ara shook the rain from her cloak. A frail woman ventured into the predawn cold, bucket in hand. With a start, Ara realized she hadn’t seen a grown man for three days. Had they all been drafted?

Lodan shook, spraying water everywhere. “We must find some food for you, dear one.”

Ara swallowed at the sudden moisture in her mouth. As they’d entered the more populated areas, game had become increasingly impossible to find, and no one would sell them supplies. They’d taken to eating only a noon meal to stretch out their provisions.

Bomin rubbed his tired eyes, “It’s a good thing we’re nearly there. Much longer and we’d be in no shape to fight.”

Ara knew he was right. Her soul—like her stomach—felt sunken and hungry. Nearer the city, refugees clogged the road, fleeing from the very fight Ara and her companions were heading towards.

“Not much longer and we’ll see the city.” Jarrer didn’t seem happy about it though. Instead, he only grew more withdrawn.

Ara sat up a little straighter, straining in her saddle. She’d dreamed of seeing Ahdyln ever since she was a little girl. Returned soldiers spoke reverently of the Queen’s Mountains rising out of the midst of the plains. The likeness of the first Queen, Ahdlyn, carved into the largest, center mountain.

As the sun crested the horizon, its light casting everything in gold, the city came into view. It was enclosed by a fortress wall. But the city must have grown, because a newer, wider wall had been also been built.

It was breathtaking.

But then the wind picked up, carrying with it a hint of decay. Death. As they crossed into the city, the smell was worse. Buildings that were at a distance golden and full of life, hunched hopelessly—like cast off refuse littering the ground.  

Lodan’s hooves clamored loudly on the cobblestones. The tiny hairs on Ara’s arms stood erect. Her Gift’s warning sounded.

“Don’t look Ara,” Bomin warned.

It was too late. She’d already seen the dogs tearing at a corpse between homes. From inside the houses, filthy sunken faces flashed, growing in numbers by the moment. Danger, her Gift warned. Taking great care, she checked her Gift Shield. “Surely they won’t hurt us.”

Bomin shook his head. “These people are more animals than men.”

Jarrer’s narneck shied as a figure darted across their path. “We are in great peril here!” he hissed.

Ara felt a stir of air in front of her. An arrow thunked into the doorway beside her. She watched it quiver. Is this how the corpse in the street died? If these men were given the chance, they’d kill her too.

“Back!” Jarrer said.

Lodan pivoted and galloped back the way they’d come. Clubs and rusty weapons in hand, a large group of dangerous looking men rushed from the buildings.