Текст книги "Bound to the battle god"

Автор книги: Ruby Dixon

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 19 (всего у книги 40 страниц)

39

Anger flares in my mind, and frustration. She wasn’t going to say anything? I jump to my feet—and then stop, looking at her terrified face. Sympathy replaces any anger. She doesn’t know him like I do, and it’s clear she’s scared she’s going to lose her family, her farm, or worse.

I put my hand over hers. “I’m going to get Aron—my Aron—and bring him in and then I want you guys to tell us everything, all right?”

She gives a quick, jerky nod.

Furious, I jump up to get my Aron.

A short time later, Vian sits down at the table in front of the fire, her husband's hand on her shoulder. Both of them look ready to faint at the slightest indication of rage from Aron. To my traveling companion's credit, he's calm. It's as if he expected this sort of thing. Me, I still feel slightly betrayed that we stayed here overnight and were friendly and they're just now deciding to tell us about the other Aspect that's looking to kill both of us.

I remind myself that Vian is mortal and poor and pregnant and worried and possibly starving. We're the enemy in her eyes, and she's making a great concession by telling us. It's clear from her husband's tight mouth that he didn't want to say a thing at all. Him, I can't like. For all of his obedience and terrified kneeling to Aron, he was ready to not say a peep about the other guy that came through a few days ago.

I kind of hate him for that.

Vian gives me another worried look. "Travelers stop by our farm all the time," she tells me. "At first we didn't think anything of it. They wore cloaks and they brought more rain with them. It's the rainy season anyhow, but there's been more and more ever since the Anticipation, and our crops have suffered. These particular travelers were a large band, maybe ten men, all armed. There was a wizard with them." She purses her lips. "And a man in a cloak. They asked to stay at our farm and for us to feed them, but times have been hard, and we didn't realize…" She trails off, then gives her hands a nervous twist. "We told them it would cost a drab a day if they planned to stay. That's when their leader took off his cloak and we realized…" Her mouth trembles and her eyes fill with tears.

"That it was Aron," I say, voice flat.

"Yes. With two eyes and no axe, of course, but it was impossible to mistake him." She stares down at her hands in her lap. "Once we realized our error and that we had been blessed by the god's presence, we gave them whatever they wanted, of course. We let them clean out our stores and take two of our woale. We had three, you know. It's just that…the only reason they left the one behind was because it was limping." She won't look me in the eye. "They stayed with us overnight and the god never spoke to us. Not directly. Until it was time to leave. Then he came up to us and said that we had been good hosts and he would reward us suitably. We thought he meant coin, compensation for what he and his men were taking. Instead, they beat Cathis and rode away, and he left the rain behind. It has been pouring ever since. It will not stop. Not ever." She picks at a string on her tunic. "I guess we were not good hosts after all."

Aron and I exchange a look.

"Lies," Aron says.

"Unless he's trying to make us think that, and he's actually something else." I eye Vian and her husband. "Uh, so while they were here, did they have sex?"

She frowns at my question, confused. "Do you mean the god and his devotees? He had a concubine that he shared with the wizard, but that was it."

Sharing? That dirty bird. I'm guessing the wizard is his anchor, like I am to this Aron. "I mean like…you guys. Did you feel overcome with the need to have sex?"

"My wife is very heavy with our child," Cathis tells me, outraged. "I would not dream of touching her while she is carrying."

I don't bother to tell him that I've heard that's not a problem, but I also don't care about him, secret-keeper that he is. Fuck him. "No orgies amongst his soldiers?" When they give me baffled looks, I sigh. "Okay, maybe it wasn't Hedonism then."

"It is Lies," Aron says again. "And he is heading to the tower as well."

"How do you know for sure?"

"Because I am him and he is me." He crosses his arms over his chest. "We are heading there ourselves, are we not?"

He has a point. But if we're drawing parallels… "So you're telling me that you'd share a hooker with your wizard, too?"

"Why does that matter?" He frowns at me as if I've lost my mind.

Oh, sure, it might not matter to him, but it sure as fuck matters to me. "No reason. Just that we're tied together until one or both of us dies, that's all. I need to know if I need to make room in the damn bed." And I cross my arms over my chest.

Aron's mouth twitches. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No! Don't be ridiculous."

"You are the one being ridiculous. And I am a god. If I wanted to fuck all of them, is it not my right?" He looks down his nose at me, so very arrogant.

"No," I say flatly.

"They would not refuse me." He looks over at Cathis. "If I asked you to give me your wife right now, would you?"

Vian hunches her shoulders. Cathis bows his head and puts his fist over his chest. "We live to serve, Lord of Storms."

Ew. "Don't be gross, Aron."

"I am a god," he tells me, as if I don't know this. "If I ask anything of a mortal, they will give it to me." He shrugs. "If I am in a mood for a fuck, I will take whoever and whatever I want."

"You arrogant sack of shit," I tell him, jumping to my feet. I ignore Vian's gasp. "I don't care if you're the sun god or the god of dirty brown assholes, but my life is tied to yours now. You need to have respect for me and my choices too! You…" My words die in my throat because his mouth is twitching with amusement, and his shoulders shake as if he's fighting back laughter.

Aron finds this all funny.

I smack him on his chest with my hand. "You are an arrogant asshole."

"The god of dirty brown ones, apparently," he agrees, laughter rumbling out of him. He grabs my hand before I can smack at his chest again, and holds my wrist, giving me a teasing look. "Speak the truth, Faith. Are you mad over the things that I have said just now? Or are you mad because you imagine me taking other lovers when you have staked your claim on me?"

"Oh bullshit," I say boldly. "I have staked no claim at all. You can sleep with whoever you want."

He arches an eyebrow as if he doesn't believe my words. Funny, I don't know if I believe them either. Sometimes I think all it would take is a word and I'd be on Aron like white on rice. Other times I want to cheerfully strangle him.

Right now is one of the latter times.

Aron leans in, my hand still trapped in his grip. Little sparks shiver through my skin at his touch, reminding me that he’s not mortal—as if I’d ever forget. “I remember what you have sacrificed, Faith,” he murmurs, expression intent. “And the only one allowed in your bed is me.”

With that, he releases my hand and leaves me wondering exactly what the heck he meant just now.

He turns back toward Vian and Cathis. “We will take the woale you have offered us, and any food supplies you can share. The rain will not return. I am not the Aspect of Lies, so this is truth I tell you. And we will pay you for any supplies you give us. Is there anything else you would share with us that can help? Remember that it is not just my life in danger on this journey, but hers.” And he gestures at me.

Vian’s wide eyes go to me, and then she shakes her head. “There is nothing.”

I have to believe her. Even if there was more information to be shaken out of her, it might take days to get her to admit it, and we don’t have that. Aron’s made it clear we need to get to the tower, and pronto. His urgency drives mine, because if a god is worried about something…well, we all need to worry.

But I look at Vian’s thin face, her arms (and belly) filled with children, and I think she has enough on her plate.

When we leave the farm, the sun is shining hot overhead, the air dry and rain-free. The roads are drying, thanks to the heat, and our woale—or land-hippo, as I like to think of him —plods along a rutted path, contentedly going about the speed of a bicycle with two flat tires. Our bags are saddled, and Aron and I sit atop the thing's wide back on a blanket that passes as a saddle. I sit behind him, clinging to his waist, because it feels as if any moment I'm going to slide off the thing's side. Aron lightly holds the reins and he sits atop the thing as if he's ridden woales all his life. Maybe he has. Maybe this is what gods do for fun.

The thing makes a gronking noise, shits all over the road behind us, and then pauses to eat some grass on the side of the road. Aron mutters a curse, tugs on the reins, and our woale reluctantly starts walking again.

"Remind me why we're taking this thing instead of walking?" I ask him, shifting carefully. My backside is hurting from the thing's spine and it's been less than an hour since we left. It's going to be a long day in the saddle—so to speak. "I imagine we could crawl faster than this thing's going."

Aron just snorts.

"I'm serious. I bet if I look behind us I'll see the farm still."

"It's not about speed, Faith. A well-trained woale will continue along a road all day and all night without stopping. They don't need to sleep or rest for days on end. They're useful for their stamina."

"Goody. So you're telling me we get to somehow ride on this thing through the night?"

"If we must. If we find someplace suitable, we'll stop and rest for a while." He doesn't sound bothered either way.

Must be nice. I hold onto his leather belt and grit my teeth as the thing lumbers along, swaying. I want to rest my cheek against Aron's back, but I don't want him to read more into my body language than he should. Resting against him would also mean pushing my boobs against him, and I'm still mulling some of his comments from the last few days.

Especially the one about how he could have me anytime he wanted. I think it's more arrogant bullshit, but he's also becoming increasingly touchy-feely and it makes me both breathless and confused. My thoughts start to migrate in a sexy direction and I carefully steer them back to the present, watching as Aron pulls one of the waterskins from the saddlebag in front of him and takes a sip, then offers it to me.

"Thanks," I say, surprised at his thoughtfulness. I take a sip—warm, yummy—and hand it back. "Cathis and Vian were sure grateful for the money, weren't they?"

"Of course they were. They should be grateful they kept their heads. The fact that we rewarded them for withholding information probably seems like it's too good to be true." His tone is sour.

I poke him gently in the side. "We didn't pay them for withholding information. We paid them for giving us supplies and letting us take the world's slowest mount."

Aron chuckles. "I have been on slower, if it makes you feel better."

"When?" I demand to know.

He shrugs. "I do not recall. Only that I know it is truth. Perhaps in the last Anticipation?"

I keep forgetting that this has all happened before. "Do you remember much about it?"

"Some. The memories are fragmented, I suspect because when all Aspects reunite, the individual is lost."

"Mmm." That's strange to think about—that the man I'm holding onto might not exist once this is done. I wonder if it bothers him to think about that, or if he's accepted it as fact. "So who won last time?"

"Won?"

"Yeah. Which Aspect won out? Hedonism? Lies? Arrogance? Apathy?"

He thinks for a long moment, considering. "Hedonism, I think. I know it was not Arrogance."

For some reason that makes me sad. It's hard to think that it's all the same person, just split into four different ways. That this isn't the real Aron, just some piece of him. I'm growing fond of the guy, all said, and I don't like the thought of him disappearing, or dying, or whatever happens when this is over. Not that it'll matter to me, of course, since I'll be home.

But I still think about it. "But it wasn't Lies that won last time, either?"

I guess I'm pretty transparent, because Aron casts a look over his shoulder at me. "If you are worried about confronting him, speak your mind, Faith."

"Well, seeing as how we haven't exactly been killing it on our own, yeah, I'm worried."

"Killing it?"

"Doing well? Thriving?"

He snorts, turning back to the road. "I think we are doing quite well. We have supplies and weapons. I have an anchor. You have a full belly and no plague. I see nothing wrong with our position."

Plague? He just casually throws plague out there? I bite back my horror and decide to point out the bigger problems first. "Vian and Cathis said that the other Aspect had mercenaries with him. Like ten. And a wizard. A motherfucking wizard. Aron, what do we do against those things?"

"We make sure that we remain aware of them and plan accordingly."

"How do you freaking plan against a wizard? You need to help me on that part because where I come from, the only wizards are racist assholes and can't actually do magic." I poke his side again, and I'm surprised when he shudders. Aron's…ticklish? What the heck? Why do I find that so ridiculous and yet delightful? "Maybe you should have hooked up with a wizard."

"Did you see any wizards volunteering upon my arrival?"

Good point. "I'm sorry you're stuck with me."

He grunts. "You have not been a bad companion, Faith. Do not vex yourself on that front. You have been adequate."

"You're killing me with all that praise," I murmur, but I am pleased, weirdly enough. That's a compliment, considering where it's coming from. "Still, what do we do against a wizard?"

“That depends.”

“On…?”

“On whether or not he is a true wizard or a pretender. True wizards are rare. Pretenders are far more common.” His tone is dismissive and clearly unworried.

Obviously I get to be the worrier of our party. “Let’s assume he is real. Just for giggles. What do we do then?”

“Try to stand behind him.” He chuckles at his own joke.

“Helpful” is obviously not in Aron’s repertoire. I frown at his back. “Wizard aside, they said the other Aron has troops. Like ten or twelve of them. Should we get mercenaries or soldiers for our protection? We’re only a day or two away from Katharn. Much as I’d hate to go back, I’d hate being dead a lot more.”

Aron shakes his head, idly flicking the woale’s reins as if it’s a lovely afternoon jaunt and not a ride into danger. “You worry too much, Faith. And before you prattle at me about how one of us needs to be concerned, remind yourself how many men I took down that first night we were attacked, and I was far more confused and disoriented then.”

My open mouth snaps shut. He’s got a point. He took down a half-dozen men in the blink of an eye and without a weapon. “I’m sorry to doubt you. This is all really new for me.”

“Troops are a distraction only, nothing more.”

I nod to myself, thinking. “You did say he was lies. Unless…they said he had a consort with him. You don’t suppose he’s Hedonism and just trying to throw us off?”

I’m not ready to confront any other Arons, but on my list, Hedonism is dead last. I don’t want to think about what that’ll mean for us, because it makes me get all flushed and awkward and things are already awkward enough.

“No, he will be Lies. Hedonism will be far more obvious. A consort does not mean anything. My cock works as well as any other mortal’s.”

Oh, I remember. My cheeks feel hot with just how much I remember. I change the subject quickly. “You think they’ll be setting a trap for us?”

He chuckles and glances back at me over his shoulder. “Undoubtedly.”

“Then we should practice weapons more, Aron.” I tap a hand on his arm. “Maybe we should stop early for the night and get some sparring in. Some swords, some staves, all the good stuff so I can be prepared.”

Aron just shakes his head, watching the road in front of him, and flicks the reins. If anything, the woale speeds up. Slightly. Like a gently caffeinated snail instead of just a regular snail. “Faith. You are trying to stall, are you not?”

I mock-snort. “Me? Not wanting to rush into danger and certain death? Psh. Can’t imagine why a girl would stall.”

“I will keep you safe. Do you doubt me?”

“Dude, you’re Arrogance. Of course you’re going to say that.” I ignore his bark of laughter that peals down the dirt road. “It’s just that…you’re a badass fighter. He’s you, so he’s going to be a badass, plus he’s got a wizard, plus he’s got mercenaries. All you have is me.” Just thinking about it makes my hands tighten on his belt. At what point do I trust him and at what point is his arrogance going to get us killed? I don’t have the answer, and that worries me. “All I’m saying is that we should practice some fighting when we stop, so I can help with the combat.”

“Faith. We could stop and practice for two years and it would not be enough.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, for Aron. “If Lies is meant to conquer Arrogance, then there is nothing I can do.”

The thought makes me sick. I’m not ready to die. I’m not ready for him to die. “I refuse to lie down and give up, Aron. Not without doing as much as I possibly can to stop it from happening.”

“No one is saying we are going to give up,” he tells me. “But perhaps our time would be better spent trying to think of a trap for them, since they will inevitably be setting one for us.”

“Fair enough.” It doesn’t make me feel much better, though. Aron’s life is tied to mine, and mine to his. If the other Aron decided that he needed a posse to protect himself…why aren’t we doing the same?

OceanofPDF.com

40

For two days, we ride the slowest mount known to mankind. Like Aron said, the thing doesn’t need to take breaks. It can keep plodding endlessly, and it does. It plods over hills and down the muddy path. It plods through fork after fork of road, and the farmlands turn to scrubby trees and distant gray mountains begin to loom on the horizon.

My ass can’t take the endless riding, though. It doesn’t seem to bother Aron in the slightest—not much does—but my mortal butt cheeks are sore by twilight on the first day. That’s when I learn how people sleep on a woale—we pause to sling two hammocks against the woale’s fat, rounded sides. It goes from one end of the saddle to the other, and for the first time, I see why the woale saddle has two pommels in front, and two in back (that have been digging into my ass for the last bajillion hours). The hammocks are slung from one side to the other and then, like the world’s ungainliest saddlebags, Aron helps me slip into one side and he gets into the other to balance me out.

At first, I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep, especially not with my head bouncing so close to the woale’s hindquarters, but the next thing I know, it’s dawn, my ass is one big aching bruise, and my stomach’s growling. While the sun is up, we ride on the woale’s saddle. When the sun goes down, we sleep in the saddle slings, and the time—and miles—creep past agonizingly slowly.

I’m mentally gearing up for another crappy night in the swing on day three when Aron abruptly stops the woale, and we grind to a halt.

I yawn at him. “Bathroom break again? I don’t really have to go.”

“No.” He’s all tension as he slides off the creature’s back, his body alert as he gazes off into the distance. “I saw campfire smoke.”

All of my sleepy exhaustion instantly vanishes, replaced by fear. “Where?” I whisper, sliding off the side of the woale and landing (okay, tumbling) on the ground next to him.

Aron catches me before I can fall on my ass and helps me to my feet. “Look to the tree line,” he tells me, pointing.

Heart hammering, I scan the trees. Sure enough, there’s a thin plume of smoke on the horizon that would be impossible to notice unless I was looking for it. He must have been watching the skies constantly, ever alert, and I feel like a bad companion.

“Is it them?” I ask, clinging to his arm in terror. We’ve been talking about this for days but it’s too soon in my eyes. I don’t want to run into them. I don’t want to fight. I sure don’t want to lose.

I feel like I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown.

“One way to find out,” Aron says, and then moves to the woale. I think—stupidly—for a moment that he’s going to get out a telescope or something, but he hands me the reins. “Wait here.”

I let out a terrified squeak as he slings his sword and scabbard over his shoulder and then heads into the woods. “Wait,” I hiss, afraid to speak too loud.

He doesn’t wait, of course. This is Aron. I’m left holding the reins of the woale, who doesn’t bother to lift his head from his feedbag. The damn beast could care less if death is imminent. Me, I care. I half drag, half lead the thing toward the side of the road and crouch in the bushes, breathing hard. It doesn’t matter that we haven’t passed anyone all day and the road has gotten steadily more deserted the closer we get to the mountains. I’m terrified of the men waiting to kill us. I’ve never had someone want to murder me before I met Aron, and now it seems everyone wants to kill us.

I should have never taken his hand that first day we met.

I frown to myself. No, that’s not fair. If I hadn’t taken his hand, what would have happened to Aron that first night? He wouldn’t have lasted an hour with one of those milquetoast cowering girls, and no one else was volunteering to be his anchor. And me? I would have been sacrificed on his altar the next morning.

Remembering that calms me. Aron’s kept me safe so far. I need to trust him. I do. So I hunker down in the bushes, clutch the reins, and wait for him to return.

Time passes.

The forest grows dark. Insects chirp, the woale craps on the road, and birds rustle the leaves. There’s nothing out of the ordinary in this night so far, and my frayed nerves ease a bit. My entire body flares with pain for a brief moment, signaling just how far Aron’s gone, but it fades almost as quickly as it arrives, and that tells me he’s coming back.

I hear his footsteps before I see him, which tells me that he wants to let me know he’s arriving. Aron’s too careful to clomp through the forest. I get to my feet just as his dark hair catches a beam of moonlight and gleams. He looks strong and resolute, his mouth in a thin line of displeasure, his mismatched eyes intense.

I don’t need to be a psychic to understand that expression. “It’s them, isn’t it?”

He moves to my side and gives me a quick nod. “They’re camping a short distance away. I counted twelve heads, including the concubine and wizard. There are four tents, one for me, and one for the rest of them. I wasn’t able to tell if the wizard was a true one or not, but they do have several mercenaries that are heavily armed. We’ll have to be careful.”

“What do we do?” I ask him, worried. “Can we avoid them? Hide? Wait for them to keep going north and follow farther behind? What?”

“We’re going to confront them,” he tells me.

“I was afraid you’d say that.”

“Faith.” Aron’s voice is calm as he puts a hand on my shoulder. The woale grunts and poops again, ruining an otherwise grim moment, but Aron’s focus is entirely on me. “This would have to happen at some point. I cannot avoid a confrontation forever. I must find him and defeat him.”

I know. I know he’s got to do this, but I’m not ready. But I grit my teeth and force myself to nod, because at least right now, they don’t know where we are. We’ve got the upper hand and we need to use it. “I’m just nervous. All right, then. What’s the plan?”

He turns and gestures at the forest. “I circled their camp to see the best defensive spot, but there’s nothing we can use to our advantage but the trees themselves. So, you’re going to climb one of them close to camp, and throw rocks into the bushes. His mercenaries will come looking to see what’s causing the noise, and when they do, I’ll take them out one by one until they’re a more manageable group.”

I gape at him. “That’s your plan? Throw rocks while sitting in a tree?”

“Did you have a better one?”

“No,” I sputter. “But—”

“But nothing. A simple plan is sometimes the most effective. If you are in the trees, you will be safer than on the ground. I did not see any bows and arrows, just swords. If they are climbing a tree, they will not be able to use their swords.”

“I thought you said you could handle mercenaries,” I remind him faintly. “You said they weren’t a problem, remember?”

“And they are not a problem,” Aron says calmly. “But I also do not want to risk you. As you have pointed out many times, you are not a fighter. I do not want you anywhere near battle where you might be taken unawares.”

I sigh. “All right. Tree. Rocks. It’s a good thing I played softball as a teenager.”

“Soft…ball?”

“A game with clubs and tossing balls. Forget it.” I wave a hand in the air. “I’ll manage. Let’s get some rocks.”

“And mud,” he agrees.

“Why mud?”

He touches my cheek, sending a shiver (and a spark) through my body. “This pale skin and hair of yours will stand out, even in the dark, if someone is looking for you. The mud will provide more camouflage.”

“This is sounding better by the minute,” I mutter, but I move to the woale, empty one of the satchels, and start looking for rocks. Even as I do, I keep thinking about that touch, how he caressed my cheek.

It was almost like he wanted to touch me.

OceanofPDF.com