Glissanda Read online

  The woods grow dark long before the sun actually sets; damp and chill settles in quickly. I’ve forgotten how cold autumn and winters are back in Nadir, having spent the last in warm and humid Nuimana. I fasten the front of my leather jacket to keep the warmth in, glad I’ve got a spare woolen cloak in one of Pearl’s saddlebags.

  The night passes without incident, but seems to stretch out forever. When daylight finally fills the trees again, and Catriona has determined all to be clear, we find a spot to stop and rest. I’m too tired to even undress, curling myself in my bedroll and falling asleep straight away.

  I awake in the evening to find the others have chanced making a small fire to heat some water for coffee. I start to ask if this is wise, then Leif hands me a hot, steaming mug of the stuff. The scent of it makes me hold my tongue.

  “Good news,” Catriona says. “I was poking around while it was still light enough, and it’s just as I thought. All the tracks passed by here only a day or two ago. Heading toward the main road. So, we’re right on their tails.”

  With that encouraging update, we’re off again after a quick bite to eat. It soon appears this night is going to be just as uneventful—and long, cold, and boring—as the last. All the better; we’ll reach the main road tomorrow and hopefully further signs of the others.

  To keep us awake, Leif has been telling a story, one from his return trip to Nadir months ago: the ship’s crew had pointed mermaids out to him in the waves of the sea, but it was a trick, of course—the “mermaids” were swaths of loose seaweed. But he’d played along … I smile as he tells the story with his usual hilarity.

  He starts in on another of his tales, his smooth voice making me drowsy.

  Until Catriona’s loud shushing sound jerks me wide awake.

  She silently points into the trees where a small light—a fire—is visible.

  “Should we backtrack, go around?” I whisper.

  She shakes her head. Listens. She dismounts from Hazel. “I want to sneak in for a closer look. I have a funny feeling about this.”

  “But if it’s Loyalists we don’t want to be anywhere near!” My voice is a loud whisper. She motions with her hand to keep it down.

  “I’m not sure it is.”

  “How’s that?”

  But she simply shakes her head, starting toward the fire with light footsteps.

  I jump down from Pearl, following.

  “What are you doing?” Leif’s voice is in my ear, his hand on my shoulder pulling me back.

  “Going with her.”

  “Then I’m going too,” he says.

  “I’ll stay here and … um … keep an eye on the horses,” Tui mutters.

  The three of us silently make our way toward the firelight. Soon I can hear voices—men’s—but can’t make out their words.

  Then another voice rings out into the night, a woman’s voice. Not just any woman’s voice: Imogen’s.

  The three of us stop, stock-still. “We’ve found them!” My heart leaps at our success, and I start walking toward the small camp.

  Catriona grabs my arm. “Wait! I’m not sure we have. I don’t recognize any of the voices except for Imogen’s. Something’s strange about this.”

  We listen for another minute; we’re still too far away to make out any words. We move closer, step by careful step. The night is completely still and silent. If any one of us steps on a branch …

  No one does. We’re only yards away now and their words carry to us clearly.

  Imogen: “Oh no, I couldn’t.”

  Man: “Oh, but you’ve little choice now.”

  Second man: “That’s right. Can’t let you run off on your own now.”

  Imogen laughs. “You needn’t be concerned. I’ll be just fine. The others will be back for me.”

  First man: “Nonsense. We’re not leaving you out here on your own.”

  Imogen: “Trust me, I’ll be fine. I wouldn’t want to slow you fellas down on your way to the Bastion. I’m sure the King is anxious for your … support.”

  Second man: “Where’d you say you were going again?”

  Imogen: “I didn’t. But nowhere you know of, I’m sure.”

  First man: “You’d better keep on with us then. These woods are no place for a lady on her own …”

  I snort and step backward. CRACK. My foot comes right down on a twig; the sound reverberates through the trees.

  “Let’s go!” Catriona hisses. We turn and walk away as quickly as we can, not stopping until we’ve reached Tui and the horses.

  “What’d you—” Catriona slaps her hand over Tui’s mouth to quiet him. We’re all listening, I’m struggling to hear the footsteps coming toward us over the wild thumping of my heart.

  There’s nothing. The wood remains quiet. An owl hoots—I nearly jump. Then silence again.

  Catriona finally removes her hand from Tui’s mouth. “What was that all about?” he whispers loudly. “Who was it?”

  “Not good,” I begin. “It was Imogen—only Imogen, no sign of the others. With a group of Loyalists, from the sound of it. They’re not letting her go.”

  Leif has started pacing; I can tell he’s furious his aunt is being kept against her will. He stops. “We’ve got to help her. I certainly can’t just leave her with those bastards. I’ve got no choice.”

  I don’t know how to reply. We can’t just march up … and snatch her away? How absurd, dangerous, and utterly foolish.

  “Let’s go get her, then,” Tui says.

  “Hold up, you two! Are you actually serious about this?”

  “Raven’s right, guys,” Catriona puts in. “There’s no telling what these Loyalists are up to. You know what they’re capable of. They’re crazy.”

  The moon has cleared the top of a tree and Leif is suddenly awash in the silvery light. The look on his face makes me take a step back.

  “Screw ‘em. I’m helping my aunt.” I can hardly believe it as I watch him turn on his boot heel and start marching toward the Loyalists.

  “Leif! Wait!” He takes another three long strides, then turns back to me.

  “You’re not stopping me, Raven. I will not let these bastards get the upper hand.”

  “But, Leif—I have a terrible feeling about this. I simply don’t think we should intervene. Imogen’s a fighter, she’ll get herself away. Let’s continue on, the others must be very nearby. Besides, we need to find out what happened.”

  Leif’s shaking his head. “No way. There’s no way I’m leaving Imogen with those creeps. I know she’s tough … but if something terrible happened to her and I didn’t do anything, I’d never forgive myself.” His voice is seething. I’ve never seen such fury on his face, not even during our encounters with King Araroa.

  I study Leif’s face for a few moments longer. I can see there’s no chance of him backing down. And I certainly can’t let him rescue Imogen on his own.

  “Fine,” I say. “But let’s wait until dawn. The men will surely be asleep and we can grab Imogen then. Maybe even without notice.”

  Leif considers my idea, and I can see him relax, just a bit. “Probably best,” he says, then walks back over to George, grabs his water bladder from his saddle, takes a good, long swig.

  “All right then,” Catriona says. “I guess we wait.”

  We take turns keeping watch, but I don’t think any of us gets a minute of sleep. And when the stars dim with the coming dawn, it’s not with the relief I normally feel … it’s sheer dread.

  We mount our horses, and make our way to the camp. When we get close, we see the men have no horses themselves, so we’ll be able to make a quick break for it when we’ve got Imogen. Leif and I dismount, then sneak the last hundred yards toward the camp on foot.

  The fire is out, there’s only a thin stream of smoke rising. The men are flat out too, with the distinct, sickly sweet smell of spirits in the air. Imogen is lying between two of them, with four more sleeping on the other side of the fire.

  “I guess we sho
uld just try to wake her?” Leif gives me a questioning look.

  I shrug my shoulders. “This is your game, friend.”

  His mouth twitches into a half-grin, then he moves toward Imogen.

  I stand a few feet behind him while he taps her on the head softly.

  She sits up, looking around wildly. “What the …? Leif?”

  Unfortunately, the man next to her wakes too. “What’s going on? Who’s there? Who are you?”

  Leif grabs one of Imogen’s hands, tries to pull her up. She resists—she must still be groggy.

  “Leif—wait!” She’s shaking her head.

  I don’t understand why she’s hesitating. She’s blowing her chance to get away …

  The man on the other side of Imogen sits up, grabs her other arm.

  “Let’s go. Now!” Leif pulls her up, successfully this time, and drags her away; the man is forced to release his grip on her arm. The men are starting to rise, but they’re bleary and hungover and can’t quite figure out what to do first.

  We can—we run, dragging Imogen with us back to the horses. “Get on!” Leif hisses, mounting George. “I don’t know what’s going on but … just get on!”

  I try not to be alarmed at the look she gives him—not one of thanks, but of extreme irritation. She glances back to the camp, where the men are starting toward us, and climbs atop George behind Leif.

  We kick the horses into a run and don’t slow until miles are between us and those Loyalists.

  “Leif, stop please,” Imogen says when we’re nearly to the road. He does as she asks.

  We all dismount, thirsty and hungry and exhausted from lack of sleep, and on edge from the rescue.

  Imogen stands, hands on her hips. “Why, pray tell, did you do that?” She looks from me, to Leif, then back at me, eyes flashing sparks.

  “What do you mean? You were in trouble … weren’t you?” I ask.

  She laughs, following with a sound of distain. “No, I most certainly wasn’t. I was spying on those men. I was about to get the information I needed. And then you lot came along and spoiled it all.”

  Chapter 7

  “I’m so sorry. I guess … we screwed up.” It’s all I can think to say.

  Imogen snorts. “That’s putting it mildly. We’ve been tracking those Loyalists for days. Tricked them into believing that I was a Loyalist too. They broke off from their larger group, the ones heading back to the Bastion. But now I’ll never find out what they’re up to, will I?”

  Leif and I look at each other; I doubt his face is redder than mine.

  I turn back to Imogen. “No. It’s just that … we thought you were …”

  Her face softens, a tiny smile forms on her lips. “I must admit it’s nice knowing you’ve got my back. My group was watching me the entire time however. But I suppose you wouldn’t have known that.”

  “No, of course not. But it was foolish of me to assume they weren’t nearby.”

  “They’ll probably catch up to us any moment. They’re not on horses but my men are fast. Speaking of, how’s Nile and the others?”

  “They’re fine. They’ve reached the original camp. Staying put until we send further word. And I made clear they were not to move under any circumstances. Which—by the way—I thought was the plan when I left to go to check on Baldachin? That you would all stay in the Zenith camp until I returned?”

  Now it’s Imogen’s turn to flush red. “Yes, that was what we discussed—”

  “They why did you decide to move the camp?” I take a step closer to her, my lips pursed. She’s taller than me but my look causes her to sink down a few inches.

  “Because …” She hesitates, then straightens herself up again. “Because you left me in charge and I thought we should move closer to the Bastion. With Baldachin gone, I was assuming you’d want us to be ready.”

  “For?”

  “For confronting Araroa, of course.”

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

  “I am?”

  “You are.” I fill her in with what we’d learned in Greenhollow and Alderwood of my family, finishing with my plan to head off the Loyalists at the Port.

  She sighs, an exhausted sound. “Well, that certainly makes this more difficult, doesn’t it?”

  “It certainly does.”

  She looks past me, into the trees. Thinking. Then she grins, looking back at me.

  “I think it’s the perfect opportunity, really.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Listen, it’s time, Raven. We remove old Araroa from power and you’re in at last. Those Loyalists—the ones putting Woman King Raven Araroa’s family in danger? Those are the true treasoners. We—you can punish them. Severely.” Her emerald eyes flash with excitement as she speaks these words.

  I’m definitely not feeling the same. I don’t know if I’m ready to rule Nadir. I don’t want to start a war—what Imogen is really suggesting. People will die. Good ones. Even the Loyalists have families they love, and who love them. Mr. Willow, for one example.

  I glance over at Leif. As I suspected, his green eyes are flashing with excitement just as Imogen’s are. He smiles at me, a huge one, winking when our eyes meet. I know this fact too: he’s been waiting for this his entire life.

  Me? The thought of how fast events are happening is making me dizzy.

  Before I get the chance to reply, there’s a commotion in the woods near us. Four Treasoners emerge, each well-armed. I recognize Hamish, Ben, and Rosie’s brother Callum, and a fourth whose name I don’t know. They surround Imogen, eager for news. One of them hands Imogen her sword.

  As she belts it back on, she describes our futile rescue attempt. Their faces fall, disappointed at the lost opportunity for valuable inside information. At least they are smart enough to hold their tongues, although I regret the whole thing now myself.

  “Well?” Imogen asks, returning back to our conversation. “Shall we keep on to the Bastion? Shall we help those who’ve been torn from their homes return?” She flashes a classic Phineas smile. “Shall we see you seated on the throne that truly belongs to you?”

  My heart has been speeding up as I wrack my mind to come up with a good answer for her. The back of my neck is damp, even though the morning is still chilly. I wipe my sweaty palms on my thighs. The only words that come to mind are the ones saying I’m not ready for any of this.

  I shake my head. “No. It’s not time for that yet—to confront Araroa, to fight the Loyalists. If we fail, if Araroa wins, my family will be killed. I’m certain of that. I just want to see them safe, then we can discuss further options. I need you, Imogen, and your men to head straight to the port with me to meet with the Loyalists holding my family. And we’ve got no time to lose—they’ll surely arrive within days.”

  “It might be too late already.” Imogen’s not smiling now. Her eyes have gone steely.

  I put my hand on Fortissima’s cool hilt at my waist; as always, she gives me the strength to continue. “It might. But we’ve got to try.”

  Imogen sighs. “I don’t agree. But your word is final, and I will follow it.”

  “I know you don’t. But thank you for … for your loyalty, Imogen. It means a lot to me, that you understand how important it is I see to my family first.”

  “That, I do understand, m’lady.” Imogen turns to the others, giving the command to carry on toward the port.

  Imogen and Catriona speak briefly about the best route to take, and they both agree it will be to head for the north of the Bastion, then straight to the port from there.

  I mount Pearl’s back, then look over toward Leif, who I’m certain has been avoiding me while we’ve readied to continue. He senses my gaze, and returns it. The emotion I find in his eyes is impossible to miss. He looks away, straightens his hat, and orders his horse to move on. I’m too shocked to give Pearl the same order, at least right away.

  It’s a look I’ve never, ever seen on his face. Disappointment.

  W
e track our way toward the Bastion, keeping to the trees, riding parallel to the road. I’ve never felt safer, traveling with so many sworn to protect me … and able to.

  If it weren’t for the fact that Leif does not speak to me the entire day. That’s fine, I’ll give him space to brood. It’s still not changing my mind any.

  We’re all shattered when we finally stop after dark, and can only manage to stuff in a few crumbs of stale food before sleep beckons. Still, I’ll never rest until Leif admits to me what’s on his mind. He’d curled up away from the others, but I followed and lay down right next to him.

  “Raven. I’m tired,” Leif mumbles from inside his bedroll. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

  “I’m tired too, Leif. Mostly I’m tired of your cold shoulders. What’s going on?”

  Leif sighs, pulling the blanket down. His face is inches from mine.

  “I think you know.”

  “You’re right. I do. You’re disappointed that I’m not going to confront Araroa.”

  “You got it.”

  “That’s really not fair.”

  Leif leans up, resting his chin on his hand. “Not fair? To who? Don’t you see that this is not about you any longer? That—and I really do hate to say this, but it’s true—there’s a lot more at stake than just your family? You’ve got thousands of supporters, Raven. You know that—people who’ve sworn their lives to you, to protect you and what you represent … a new Nadir, our kingdom as it should be, under the rule of a Woman King. And you’ve taken the oath to them as well. You’ve got to fulfill it.”

  I sit up, throwing my blanket off. “Are you serious? I’m not going back on my oath. Just the opposite: I’d be putting these people in danger—mortal danger—if I agreed to Imogen’s crazy plan to attack the Palace now. And going back to your first statement, no. There’s only my family at stake. They’re the most important people in the world to me, and I include you in that group of course, and without them … well what would be left?”

  My voice has grown in volume and my words echo into the crisp night air. A light breeze blows past us, bringing with it the scent of damp leaves and moss. Distinctly autumn-like. Then the air is still, and there is only silence, around us, between us.