Fan Fiction ❯ Spirit of the Dragon ❯ Onward ( Chapter 22 )

Chapter Twenty Two

An unexpected breeze sent broken rays of light whirling through the treetops. Crowe was already fond of these giant redwoods. They were unlike anything back at home. If there was one reason to stay in this foreign land, it was the scenery. Eventually one grew tired of muddy flatlands and dreary lagoons and storms that never ceased. It was burdensome on the spirit.

Maybe if Acanthus came to visit Gardroth, he could understand her people's grudge. Stewing from day to day in a depressing environment was bound to effectuate hatred. Bitter thoughts are most dangerous when left alone to fester.

"Do you know how far it is to Betony?" Crowe was in her usual location: at the center of the procession, alongside Lord Oxalis.

"We should reach it by sundown, if I am not mistaken."

"I see…"

He must have heard the worry in her voice, because he said to her: "Acanthus is strong. I am certain he will survive whatever fate befalls him."

"I hope you're right…" But Crowe felt no better. Well what if Ronori befalls him? Ronori was a gentle lover, but war brought out the worst in him. She had watched him kill, and had watched him overkill. He's smart, though. He knows how valuable an unharmed Crown is. Of course, Ronori was never one to weigh actual value against his own agenda. Crowe groaned inwardly. She wished the cavalry would hurry. But they could not go into certain battle on steeds near dead of heat exhaustion. Xethia be with him, or whatever god this kingdom worships…

They did not make it to Betony by sundown, and Crowe was on the verge of tearing hair out of her scalp just to mollify her anxiety. She sat upright by one of the dozen campfires while impatiently cooking deer meat on a stick. She was so out of sorts that she did not notice the game turn to charcoal. Her stick was on fire when Oxalis drew attention to it.

"Jeqk! Piece of sherzy!" She withdrew the stick and pounded it against the ground. All that remained of her dinner was a sizzling clump of blackened brisket.

Oxalis tried to hide his amusement, "Here, milady. I have some extra."

"Thanks." Crowe grumbled, and took it from him. She only ate it out of courtesy. She was too stressed to enjoy her meal.

"We will be there promptly tomorrow morning."

"You said we'd be there by nightfall."

"I was wrong."

Crowe sighed. She didn't know how she would get any sleep.

After the company set out their bedrolls and curled up around the fires, Crowe sat cross-legged in the dirt, listening to the snores of noblemen. Once again she became nostalgic for her days as a duxess. She could almost see Verrick, dreaming like a baby with that stupid grin on his face.

She looked up at the stars. When was the last time she had stared up at the stars? From beyond the mutterings of dreaming souls came the soft whickers of horses, and beyond that the chirps of nightbugs. The summer heat was pleasant now, and she was finally starting to relax when the scuffle of dirt made her glance back towards the fire. Lethris? She thought everyone had gone to sleep.

He sat at an angle across from her, so that the fire highlighted the hollows of his bony face.

"Crowe." In that empty tone, "I see like me you have fallen subject to apprehension."

"I didn't know you and the Prince were so close." Crowe said carefully.

Did he suspect her suspicions? "He is the future ruler of my kingdom. Surely anyone in my position would be concerned."

"Surely."

He almost looked thrown off by her callousness. Then perhaps it was abrupt, but she didn't much care: "Why are you here, Lethris?" He did not strike her as the kind of man to make small talk.

He smiled, but it was an empty smile. "I only wish to warn you, Crowe."

"Warn me?" Fine, she would play along.

"There is…talk, fair lady. Some of the knights were a little bothered by that spectacle this morning."

Crowe shot him an acid glare. "What do you mean, `bothered'?"

He shrugged. It was a movement that made his shoulder-length hair fold and fall into place again. "Drunesmerrians are none too fond of witchcraft."

"No one is." Crowe snapped. "And that includes 'blackbloods'."

"Ah, so you will use my words against me. I tried to apologize-"

"Listen, Lethris." She didn't bother to hide her annoyance. "I don't like games. So I'll come out and say it: I don't like you and you don't like me so let's just stay out of each other's way until we get to Betony, alright?"

He blinked. Was he alarmed? She couldn't tell. "What a dreadful thing to say, Lady Crowe. If you are upset about my putting you into a position that made you demonstrate your hazardous--a-hem--powerful abilities, then I can only apologize and thank you again for saving the day."

Crowe glowered at him.

"Listen…" He went on, "Perhaps it is your homesickness that is feeding this paranoia of yours. Might I suggest going home with the Gardrothians? After all you have done, I find it doubtful that many would try and stop you…"

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" It was taking all of her willpower to keep from hitting him.

"Was that offensive? I am only saying that no one would blame you for going back." The faintest of an emotion threatened to rise, but he tamed it. "How does that expression go again? `Leave a wolf in the forest and it hunts to kill its prey; lead a wolf to the city and it hunts to kill its prey.'"

"I hadn't heard that." Crowe said tersely. "How enlightening."

"I am only telling you to watch your back." Lethris sounded innocent enough, but she knew what he was really saying, and she didn't like it one bit. "There are a few people who are not so trusting as I am." With that he rose, and his figure faded into the darkness.

Crowe scowled for a time after, watching the fire crackle and burn.