Scars of Stone

1 Lefna’s full lips trembled, and even though she forced them into a smile, her watery eyes told all. Ryell could swear he heard a sniffle before she approached his table. With the late afternoon slowly shifting into an evening, the Jagged Swordsman was still quiet. Only a few patrons sat around the tables, and it seemed that the stillness of the inn seeped into Lefna’s thoughts, bringing fears instead of calm. “They’ll be fine, don’t worry,” he offered, but his own mind haunted him with unwanted images, and he fought to conceal his worries. He should have insisted on going with Kamira, no matter how many times she had objected. Or maybe he should have never asked for permission and simply joined the two of them as they departed. He clenched his fists in frustration. In hindsight, it was easy to come up with solutions, but the memory of Kamira’s unyielding expression when she turned down his offer left no doubt he wouldn’t have succeeded no matter what he chose. And Veelk, of course, would have sided with her, guarding her like a jealous dog. Thankfully, wrapped in her own emotions, Lefna missed his reaction. The last thing he wanted was to upset her more. “They were supposed to be gone for no more than four weeks!” She rubbed her eyes, smudging her tears. “They didn’t take enough supplies for a longer trip!” Ryell eyed her with interest. The mention of supplies was hardly a reason to panic, but the way she reacted told him of some other, unspoken worries. “I’m sure Veelk will hunt if they run out of food,” he replied, the first thought that came to mind. “Maybe that’s what slowed them down.” Lefna took a deep breath and gave him an appreciative nod. With a weak smile, she set a jug of ale in front of him and rushed away to tend to other patrons. With a sigh, he filled his mug. It was the Light’s blessing that she didn’t know where Kamira and Veelk had set out to. Ryell had seen the desert only from a distance, when his ship reached Tyorane and made its way north along the coastline. The memory of the endless, sunburned dunes stayed with him for a long time and made him believe the continent they’d reached was a harsh, unwelcoming place. At least he could seek a little comfort in the thought that Kamira had traveled through that land before, and she had Veelk to protect her, but that last realization made him close his fingers around the mug tighter than a reassured person would. The mage killer had too much influence on Kamira, keeping her away from the right path and from anyone who was willing to help her. Ryell hadn’t earned enough of her trust to pull her away from Veelk. He couldn’t help wondering what kind of a dark secret bound the two together, because a Tivarashan noblewoman wouldn’t have been keeping company with someone like Veelk willingly. She couldn’t have. At the same time, she never, even when they were alone, asked for Ryell’s aid. And then she left him in Kaighal, heading out into the desert alone with that cursed… His frustration grew, so he diverted his thoughts to Atissa. The mere memory of her gentle yet passionate touch and of the magic she was so eager to share with him eased Ryell’s mind. Several years younger than Kamira, at least from what he could tell, Atissa still had that air of innocence about her, even if it meant her actions at times were like those of a child. He couldn’t help smiling. Sheltered all her life, Atissa had never experienced the harsh side of it and hadn’t learned how to deal with challenges, but her actions were not malicious. But were they truly? The unpleasant memory of when she refused to help his people returned to him in an instant, and Ryell found himself thinking about Kamira again. She helped him without delay, without asking for any payment or even gratitude… He shook his head, trying to chase the image of the callous arcanist out of his head. She’d chosen to wander the desert with a mage killer, so he shouldn’t waste his time. Neither of the women who’d absorbed his attention in Kaighal was worthy of what he was offering, yet he couldn’t find the strength to walk away from either, bouncing from one to the other like a helpless trapped animal testing the limits of its cage. A muffled scream drew his attention, and once he recognized Lefna standing between the tables with her hand to her mouth and eyes wide, he followed her gaze. Two travelers walked into the inn. Veelk entered first, hunched and moving slowly, nearly staggering, and while he held the door open, Kamira stepped inside. Every detail of her state burned into Ryell’s mind as the inn’s imbued lamps lit up her face and revealed the dirt on her skin and parched lips. A limp distorted her smooth moves, and her arm rested in a makeshift sling. Ryell kept staring, but Lefna broke free of her stupor. Several steps and she was already back at the counter, filling a tray with a jug of wine, cups, and bowls of fresh food. Before Ryell blinked, she headed for the stairs, the tray and a key in her hands. “Bath?” She looked over her shoulder. Veelk shook his head. Once he let go of the door, he took time to help Kamira walk. “Maybe later.” Lefna climbed the steps balancing her burden, and Ryell looked after her in awe. The innkeeper must have been proud of his daughter, whose first thought was of serving her quests instead of asking questions or giving in to emotions. At the same time, she made Ryell feel useless. The way Veelk glared at him when they passed his table made it clear he would not welcome any help, and Ryell’s blood boiled. Tiredness aside, the mage killer was unscathed, not a single injury on his body, while the woman he was supposed to protect had suffered from more than one. Some protector he is! Ryell clenched his fists. Veelk paid no attention to him. He lifted Kamira and carried her up the stairs then muttered a few words to Lefna, who was already heading back. Then he disappeared around the corner on the upper floor. The patrons, who had so far silently watched their passage, returned to their drinks and conversation, and the Jagged Swordsman once more looked quiet and calm. Ryell hesitated. The need for news fought with the courtesy of allowing them to rest first. Lefna approached his table, her hand on his shoulder in a failed attempt to comfort him. “Better leave them alone. It’s been a long time since I saw Veelk in such a mood. Something serious must have happened on their journey.” “They’ve been attacked.” Ryell hadn’t expected to state the obvious. “No, it’s not that. They get in trouble all the time, and all you can hear is Veelk teasing Kamira about being too weak or too stubborn.” She shook her head, a glimpse of amusement brightening her face, likely at some memories, but then concern took over again. “Last time I saw him like this was when—” She covered her mouth with sudden realization. “When something really bad happened to them,” she said after Ryell’s insistent glare. “How bad?” If he could learn more about it, maybe he would understand what kind of power Veelk had over Kamira, and he’d figure out how to free her of the mage killer’s influence. A patron called out, and Lefna sent him a smile over the shoulder. “I have to go. Besides, it’s a nasty story. Father would kill me if I repeated it to patrons.” Before she rushed away, Ryell held her forearm. “I have to know.” As two men at the next table eyed him with barely concealed hostility, he let go. “Please.” The corners of her lips curved downward, but her nod was all Ryell cared about. “I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” With uneasiness, she hurried off to other tables, and he finished his ale with a pang of guilt. Forcing the innkeeper’s daughter to gossip about her patrons was below a royal guard’s honor, but at the same time, with the fall of Devanshari, he could hardly call himself such. If Lefna knew the story, it couldn’t have been a secret anyway, and when he learned the details, he would know how to speak with Kamira. A little discomfort for Lefna wasn’t a high price to pay. Reassured, Ryell relaxed in his seat, waiting for her return.