Freeing Nivaka Page 6

  “Later,” he muttered, watching their friends approach.

  His father nodded and greeted the other workers. “He’s all right. Just got in a bit of a hurry, is all.”

  Alija tried to smile and pretend he wasn’t shaken to his core.

  How do I tell my father I’m planning to overthrow the governor? His mind shied away from the word “assassinate.” He’d just have to come out with it, but not until he could be sure of privacy.

  While his mother supervised the kitchen crew’s cleaning after supper, his father cornered him in the den after supper, and Alija could delay no longer. They’d been slacking in their duties, so she would stay until the work was finished—at least an hour.

  “Sorry I surprised you earlier,” Alija’s father said. “But you’re clearly planning something. What’s going on?”

  Alija frowned at the wording. “Is it that obvious? Do you think we’ve tipped them off?”

  “Is what obvious? Tipped who off?”

  Alija sighed and dropped onto the sofa. “You must have an inkling what it is.”

  His father settled onto the couch beside Alija. “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. I only guessed you’re planning something because I know you and I know your friends; you won’t take something like what happened to Kai without…” He trailed off, and his eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you planning?”

  Alija took a deep breath and fought the urge to pick at his fingernails. He’d stopped doing that when he’d reached the age of adulthood. He exhaled in a rush and met his father’s anxious gaze.

  “We’re going to kill the governor and all his guards.” His voice stayed stronger than he could have hoped, but he wiped his sweaty palms on his pants.

  The color drained from his father’s face, and Alija worried he should have kept the secret. He dropped his gaze to his hands, and he held his breath, waiting for his father’s wrath.

  Instead, his father whispered, “Tell me you have a solid plan. And weapons? What are you doing for weapons?”

  The air rushed out of Alija’s lungs so fast it made him dizzy. “Yes, we have a plan. And weapons.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, his father grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “And? What is this plan? How do I know you won’t get yourself killed? I need you around here.”

  “Look, there’s no guarantees, but we’ve spent a lot of time thinking this through.”

  He spent the next hour relaying the bulk of their plan, including the whens, wheres and hows as best he could. He explained how they’d found nearly a dozen weapons around the village and hidden them away, and how they were certain someone within the village had been helping them, though they didn’t know who it could be. When he’d finished, he sat back and waited for his father’s judgment.

  “Well, it sounds like you’ve thought of everything. I hope you succeed, and not just because I worry about your safety. If you do this, you’ll set us all free again, and we can get back to the way we used to be.”

  Alija looked up, startled by the emotion in his father’s voice. Tears shone in the older man’s eyes, and Alija swallowed a sudden knot of his own.

  Without warning, his father stood and left the room, leaving Alija alone to cope with all the fears and anxieties that revealing the plan had brought to the surface. Only four days remained before the darkest night of the month. Were they ready?

  13

  Delivery

  Ahren’s heart pounded as she carved the chunk of wood into a palm-sized fox and waited for her father to leave his workroom.

  Dalan had approached her after dinner one night and told her of the plan to overthrow Helak and had asked her to help them by delivering vials of poison to Wayra’s aunt Breda in Tavan’s kitchen.

  “Oh, why did I agree to this,” she muttered, jabbing the knife into the soft wood.

  “Agree to what?”

  Startled, Ahren dropped carving and knife and spun to face her father.

  “Sorry.” Valasa picked up the items and handed them back to her. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you making something special? You don’t usually get so flustered.”

  A guilty flush suffused her face with heat, and she examined the half-finished fox.

  “Not really special,” she mumbled. “It’s just not what I really want to be working on right now, but I promised it to Wayra for his aunt’s birthday.”

  He peered down at the carving. “Well, it’s coming along quite nicely. Keep working, and you’ll be done in no time, then you can get back to whatever project has you so distracted. I’ve got to go check on a few things. I’ll be back this evening.”

  He strode through the door without waiting for a response, and Ahren sank back into the chair, deflated. She waited until she was certain he wasn’t coming back for some forgotten vial of something and pushed herself out of the plush chair. Moving quickly, she slipped into her father’s workroom and closed the door.

  Sweat dripped from her forehead. This space had always made her uncomfortable, though she’d only been inside it a few times. It felt alive somehow, and though she couldn’t explain it, she wanted nothing more than to finish her task and get back to her room.

  She scanned the shelves, looking for the amber bottles Breda had asked for. She tucked the two vials in her skirt pocket and rushed out of the room and out of the house. She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the bench across from the north cistern. Breda’s brilliant red hair gleamed in the midmorning sun, but she didn’t look up.

  Ahren settled onto the bench beside the cook, ignoring the slender knife in the woman’s hand and the basket of apples on the boardwalk.

  “It’s a lovely day to sit outside,” Ahren said.

  “Yes, well, I needed a decent excuse to be here, didn’t I. It wouldn’t have worked if it had rained today. Is your brother sure about this? If they don’t go through with it, me and all my girls will get the axe for this.”

  “Yes, they’re sure.” Ahren sighed. “They keep saying how they’re sick of Tavan hurting and killing people unfairly, and how if they don’t stop him no one will.”

  “Well, he’s not wrong, I’ll give him that.” She leaned back against the bench. “He’s definitely not wrong.”

  The vials weighed heavy in Ahren’s pockets, an ever-present reminder of the reason for the visit. She shifted uncomfortably, trying to keep the glass from clinking against the bench.

  “Well, did you bring the spices I asked you for?”

  Ahren sat up straighter at the unexpected question. “Spices?”

  “Yes. The spices I need to flavor these pies up proper. Did you bring ‘em?”

  “Oh, uh, yes, of course.” Ahren dug the bottles out of her skirt and handed them to Breda, who deposited them into a pouch at her waist.

  “Now, sit here and keep me company while I peel these apples, will you? I hate sitting for hours by myself. You can help keep the bugs off.”

  “Of course,” Ahren repeated. She pulled out the fox and carved and chatted until it was time for the noon meal.

  14

  Rumors

  “Perfect. Tack it there.” Tavan smiled at the new map and dismissed the workers. “This will make it easier, I think.”

  He dipped his pen in ink and circled the problem area—that spot where so many of his men had met with disaster.

  “Ahem.”

  Tavan turned toward the voice, still grinning. “Good morning, Corlim. What do you think?”

  “It’s a good map, sir.”

  When his adviser didn’t smile and dropped his eyes to the floor instead of examining the map, Tavan’s stomach sank.

  “What news do you have?”

  “A scout, sir. He said he was part of the last expedition into the forest. He said they’re all dead, sir.”

  Blood rushed into Tavan’s face, and he swore. “Where is he? I want to know what they ran into that could take out almost fifty of my best men.”

  “He’s dead, sir. He collapsed
at the east entrance and died of his wounds less than an hour later.”

  Tavan’s eyes narrowed as he examined Corlim’s pale face. “What kind of wounds?”

  “Well, sir, he had several gashes across his chest and belly… Parts were hanging out that weren’t meant to see daylight. I don’t know how he stayed alive long enough to get here, truth be told.”

  The air rushed out of Tavan’s lungs in a huff. “Did he say who attacked? Is it the groundfolk? Their blades could certainly do such a thing.”

  “He said it was a creature, sir, not the little people.”

  Tavan swore again. “You’re telling me there’s a bear or a wolf or the like that’s taken out every man I’ve sent in that direction? Perfect.” A terrible idea dawned, and Tavan folded his hands. “We’ll set a trap, then.”

  Corlim paled further. “What kind of trap, sir? The men have tried setting bear traps and snares. This… creature… has avoided every single one.”

  “Clearly, the thing isn’t interested in whatever bait they’ve been using.”

  A confused look replaced the distraught pallor on Corlim’s face. “What do you suggest? They’ve tried every kind of meat we can get in this awful forest.”

  “Almost,” Tavan corrected. “They’ve tried almost every kind of meat. Whatever this creature is, it clearly prefers the taste of my men to any other meat available. We’ll set a trap with a handful of men and use them to distract the thing so an expedition can get past it and into the forest.”

  Eyes wide with horror, Corlim shook his head. “You want to use our soldiers… as bait?”

  “Unless you have another idea. Helak’s sending me the greenest, most untrained, cowardly excuses for soldiers he’s got. He’s obviously lost faith in my ability to find this thing.” He slammed his fists down on the desk, spilling the pot of ink onto the pages. “I have to do something drastic to find what he’s looking for, or I’ll be stuck in this miserable wood forever.”

  “I understand your frustration, sir, but are you sure this is the best way?”

  “No, I’m not sure. The only thing I’m sure of is that I want out of this village. I want to see the mountains again. Anything that gets me there is a viable option.” He stalked across to the map on the wall. “And let’s be honest. If I send those same men into this,” he jabbed a finger at the circle he’d drawn, “they’re all dead, anyway. We may as well use them to figure this thing out.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Tavan returned to his desk and dropped into his chair, returning his attention to Helak’s letter. He tossed the ink-stained pages in the waste bin and started over.

  The scratching of pen on paper filled the room until Corlim cleared his throat.

  Tavan glared. “Is there something else?”

  “Well, yes, sir. There is. I think there’s trouble brewing in the village, sir.”

  Tavan released a weary sigh. “When isn’t there trouble brewing? There’s always someone who thinks they can attack us and win. We prove them wrong, just like we did a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Yes, sir, but this feels different. I… it’s hard to explain. I can’t get any real information from anyone, but there’s a sense that something big is about to happen.”

  Head cocked to the side, Tavan pressed his lips into a firm line. “Are you listening to the daft old fools in the parks again? ‘The trees told me,’ and all that nonsense?”

  “No, sir. I hear whispers in the village, but I can’t get anyone to talk to me. It’s more what isn’t said. Even my usual informants have gone silent.”

  “Then I guess you need new informants. It’s your job to know what these simpletons are up to.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll work on it, sir.”

  Tavan dropped his gaze to his letter. “While you’re at it, figure out who’s going on the next expedition into the forest.”

  “Yes, sir. Are we still sending the next team west, like we said before?”

  “That’s fine. We’ve wasted twenty years already. Another month won’t hurt. Give them a week to get ready.” He dipped his pen in the pot of ink and continued writing his explanation to Helak. He had a messenger waiting to leave before sundown.

  15

  Time

  The days trudged by, and the agonizing hours turned Alija’s mind to moss and his legs to jelly. He picked at his meals; the anxiety churning in his belly wouldn’t allow more than a few bites of anything.

  We’re just doing what we have to do. The thought repeated again and again through the night. But no matter how many times he repeated it, the nerves turned to nauseating knots, and his legs shook every time he thought about killing the governor and his guards.

  I’ve never killed anything—not even a rabbit—I don’t think I can do this. But whenever such doubts arose, he returned his mind to the day of Kai’s beating.

  When the morning of the darkest night finally arrived, Alija forced down as much breakfast as he could. His father told him that new damage had been discovered near the northern entrance, and he hurried out the door, leaving Alija to eat alone in the pink blush of dawn. The solitude frayed his already-taut nerves to the breaking point, and he set out for Dalan’s house long before the midmorning meeting time.

  A wave of relief rolled through him when Dalan opened the door and Wayra and Kai both greeted him.

  “You look awful,” Kai said, laughing. “Did you sleep at all?”

  Alija stepped past his friends and dropped on to the plush sofa. “A little. You?”

  Kai and Wayra shook their heads, but Dalan flushed.

  “My father gave me a tincture to help me sleep,” he said. “I guess I should have had him send you some, too.” He flopped onto the couch beside Alija.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Wayra said, settling into the chair across from the others. “I wouldn’t have taken it, anyway. Your father’s potions always taste like rancid meat.”

  A surprised laugh bubbled up from Alija’s chest and erupted into uncontrolled guffaws. Wayra, Dalan, and Kai joined the laughter, and they giggled until tears ran from their eyes.

  “What’s so funny?” The booming voice startled Alija, and he fell silent, staring wide-eyed at the healer in the doorway.

  “Nothing,” Dalan said, trying to hold it together. “Nothing’s funny.”

  Valasa glanced at each red face, shook his head, and strolled out of the room. When he was gone, the friends roared with laughter once more.

  The sun crawled across the sky, every second stretching into an agonizing hour. The friends re-hashed their plan for the night, choked down a lunch of cold venison and root vegetables, and tried their best to sleep so they’d have the energy they needed for their late-night assault.

  Alija woke to inky blackness in the room and rolled over. He rubbed the grit from his eyes and stood. The pile of blankets had done little to cushion his nap, and his joints ached after the hours spent sleeping on the wooden floor.

  Shuffling in the suffocating darkness, he scooted his foot until it met a sleeping friend.

  “Hey,” Alija whispered, nudging the sleeping man. “I think it’s time.”

  Wayra moaned and sat up. “Hey, find a lamp or something. It’s black as pitch in here.”

  Alija reached for the table on his right. Groping in the blackness, he knocked the back of his hand against the lamp and fumbled for the flint, but before he could strike it, Kai’s voice rang out.

  “Don’t light the lamp. Let me open the curtains for some light. We need to keep our eyes used to the dark.”

  Sounds of movement reached Alija through the velvet blackness: the rustle of cloth, a thud when Kai bumped into something, and a soft curse in Dalan’s voice.

  “Oh, sorry,” Kai murmured.

  Linen rustled, and soft light suffused through the narrow window. Even without the moons, the stars and nearby homes gave off enough light to navigate the small room.

  Alija sighed and relaxed his shoulders.

  I can do this. W
e can do this, he told himself.

  “Ready?” Dalan’s voice shook ever so slightly.

  Alija nodded. “As ready as I’m gonna get.”

  “I think so,” Wayra croaked.

  “Let’s do this!” Kai’s eager excitement shone through, infectious and exhilarating.

  Some of Alija’s nervousness melted away at the grin on Kai’s face.

  The men strapped on their weapons using makeshift sheathes and lengths of rope.

  “Okay,” Dalan said when they were ready. “Let’s go over it one more time. They keep that side door unlocked for the guards to use, so we’ll use that entrance.”

  “Right,” Alija said. “I was in there this winter, repairing the table. That door leads into a little room where the guards have their meetings.”

  “We’ll split up from there and meet back up once we’ve cleared the house.” Dalan glanced around the room. “Be careful.”

  Keeping to the shadows, they crept around the outer edge of the Square, heading for the side door. A cold wind ruffled Alija’s dark cloak. He shivered and wiped the icy sweat from his face.

  When they reached the side of Tavan’s house, they pressed themselves against the wall in the deepest shadows under the eaves and waited.

  Voices drifted to Alija on the evening breeze, and he held his breath, frozen in terror. He cringed back against the building when the lamplight came within inches of his black shoes. His lungs screamed for air, but he didn’t dare to breathe until the guards had passed by.

  Dizzying relief flooded Alija, and he sagged against the wood-shingled building.

  Alija drew a deep breath. His hands shook under the strain of anticipation but he shoved the fear and doubt aside. He ran over the plan in his mind while he waited. They would enter through the guard room on the north end of Tavan’s house. From there, he and Kai would move to the left and check each room for the governor and his guards, killing anyone they found as quickly and quietly as they could.