and then move towards it slowly. I can see a wooden shutter
open at the side of the building to let in air. I move around the
building slowly until we are out of sight and then turn to Alana.
“Stay low.” I crawl along the ground until I’m directly under
the window.
“Who else is involved?” That was Morrick’s voice
“Bellona?” Musa asks.
“No, she won’t. She hates her father.” Morrick seems
adamant on this point.
But Mirium seems to disagree. “Morrick, she is allied with
Lucian, and King Paulus could be also. We have to look at every
possibility.”
“What about Carew, then, since we have to look at every
possibility?” Morrick says smartly
“He has never been seen since.” Sadness fills Musa’s voice,
but it doesn’t sound genuine; it sounds forced.
Alana tugs on my arm and gestures back towards the huts,
but I shake my head and continue to listen.
“But he will be. I just cannot say if it is for good or bad.”
Mirium’s words are gentle. This must have been someone Musa
cared about or pretended to. “Lucian wants Sarajane alive so
King Paulus must not be with him, since he wants her dead,
but the images are foggy and unclear.” I freeze at Mirium
mentioning my name.
“Have you heard any more on the girl?” Morrick asks, but he
sounds like he couldn’t care less.
“Yes, Bellona has her, but she is alive.” Mirium pauses. “You
need to tell Marta, Morrick. It is her daughter.”
My heart stops beating and my body becomes rigid. They
can’t be talking about Jessica. That isn’t possible. I calm myself
and listen. Alana grabs my wrist, her eyes pleading with me to
leave.
“She is not my daughter. She is from a mortal man and none
of my concern.” Morrick’s voice is cold and hard. He’s talking
about my sister. Oh God, this isn’t happening.
Alana pulls on my arm again and I crawl numbly behind
her. Their voices start to fade. When we stand, I can’t even
speak, and Alana veers me off towards the sea. The wind is a
lot stronger the closer we get.
“Oh God, Alana, they’re talking about my sister.”
Alana grabs both my shoulders. “Calm down. We will think
of something.”
I look at her, shocked. “Are you going to help me?”
“I can’t come with you, but I can find out where she is.”
I nod my head several times. “Oh God, I can’t believe they’re
going to let her die.” I can feel the rage towards Morrick rising
in me. How could he? But I need to stay calm. If they won’t help
save her, I’ll have to do this myself.
“They said Bellona has her, so she would be in Saskia.”
I look at Alana, bewildered, and then I start to feel hysterical.
“I don’t even know where that is, Alana.”
“I will draw you a map.”
“This is not happening.” I grab Alana’s shoulder and shake
her. “Tell me this is not real,” I scream.
Alana’s face becomes stern and a look of determination
crosses it. Her words make their way through my fear. “Calm
down and think of your sister.” She’s right; this isn’t helping.
“Tell me what I need to do”
“Okay. Go back to your hut and act normal. Change into
you’re travelling clothes and arm yourself. When the settlement
becomes quiet, sneak out to the back of your hut. I will meet
you there.”
“And then what?” I ask, seeing too many holes in this plan.
“Just trust me, Sarajane.”
I follow her about four feet under the water. A large section
of the fence is cut out enough to let a person fit through. We
swim through it and come out the other side, but it makes me
wary of Alana. Is she the traitor? Did she cut this out so she
could move freely from Aquaterra? It doesn’t matter. I just need
to get to Jessica so I have no choice but to trust her. She runs out
into the desert away from the fence and keeps moving at a fast
she stops and I try to catch my breath.
“I can’t stay much longer, but in the next five minutes you
will come to an old building that looks like it is not used. Inside
is a horse, saddled and carrying water and food.”
“How do you know all this, Alana?” I ask, praying she isn’t
the traitor. I really like her.
“I just do.” She hugs me. “I can’t keep them off long. They
will question me the minute they realise you are missing. So at
best, you have until morning.”
“Okay, thank you.” I give her one more quick hug and follow
her directions to the old building. Inside, I find a horse saddled
and equipped.
We leave the beach and go our separate ways. I meet no one
and make it to my hut. Once I’m changed and armed with my
own dagger and Tristan’s, I just sit in the main room, waiting
for the settlement to go quiet. It feels like days. I sneak out as
Alana said and stand behind my hut. Alana is there. I hug her.
I know she’s breaking a lot of rules and taking risks. But she’s
all business.
“Here is the map. It is easy to follow. I will get you out of
Aquaterra, but you have to do exactly as I tell you.”
I don’t get to answer. We move from hut to hut, using them
as cover until we’re back at the sea. The fence that surrounds
Aquaterra runs a good mile out to sea, but Alana keeps making
her way into the water.
“We can’t swim that far,” I call to her.
“We are not swimming; we are diving.” She disappears under
the water.
Chapter Sixteen
Saskia
(Sarajane)
Once I’m on the horse I make my way towards the
mountains. Alana’s map is easy to follow. When I hit
the mountain, there’s a pass about three miles in that
will take me straight to Saskia. I kick the horse, pushing its
body faster and harder.
After a few hours of intense riding, the sun is starting to rise.
I know I don’t have much longer before they notice I’m gone.
I kick the horse again, willing it to reach the mountains in the
distance. The temperature drops the closer we get to them. I
can’t think about what I’m doing; it just terrifies me too much.
So I focus on Josh’s face. I think of his smile and kind words. A
sense of safety and peace washes through me.
“I miss you.” Thinking of him pushes me on and I finally
reach the mountains. We slow down, our pace almost at a
crawl, as the ground is uneven and rocky. Goose bumps pop up
all over my arms. I wrap my cloak tighter around me to shield
myself from the cold. The horse starts hesitating at every step
we take. At this rate it will take forever to reach Saskia.
I tug the reins. “Go faster.” He throws his head back and
sighs; a cloud of cold air leaves his nostrils. I kick his side. “I
said go.” He rears up, nearly throwing me off. I grip his neck to
keep myself on the saddle. My heart is pounding. Something is
spooking him. I look around me, but it is still dark in between
the mountain. The horse starts moving back slowly. I let him.
I’m not risking being thrown off again. I keep looking around
to see what is scaring him. Stones fall down the mountainside. I
squeal. The horse panics, moving back too quickly.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” I try to calm him, rubbing his neck, but he
is freaking out. He moves quicker, fumbling over his own legs. I
know he’s going to fall. I jump from his back at the last minute
and land awkwardly on the ground. I roll out of the way just as
the horse falls on his side. He would have crushed me if I hadn’t
moved. He is still kicking his legs wildly, his head thrown back,
showing eyes that are nearly all white, and as quick as he falls,
he gets up on his knees and then stands. He is facing the way
out and he races off.
“Hey, come back!” I roar after him, but he’s racing like his
life depends on it.
I stand on shaky legs and brush gravel off my clothes.
Looking around doesn’t help. I can’t see more than ten feet in
front of me. It looks like the shadows are moving all around
me. I move back slowly and hit the stone wall. How the hell do
I get myself into such stupid situations? Here I am alone, in the
dark, stranded.
“Okay.” I let out a deep breath and wipe my hands on my
trousers.
I start walking. Light shines in different areas wherever
the mountainside has collapsed, allowing sunlight to escape
through. It is now morning. I try to walk in the light as much
as possible. I know I’m being followed, but I can’t stop. I reach
the next area of light and bend down, pretending to tie my lace.
I slip the dagger out of my boot with shaky hands and hold it
at my side. The movements are strong up ahead, but there is
nothing I can do, only stay calm until I reach that area and
then run. This is the best plan I can come up with. The distance
starts closing in, and whatever is just a few feet away doesn’t
move, but I can feel their hungry eyes watching me. Shivers run
all over me; the hairs on my arm and neck sand up.
They slither out of their hiding places and surround me.
“Breathe,” I remind myself. Oh God, this was a bad idea. I grip
the knife. If I can take out the two in front of me, I might have
a chance at running. They circle and hiss around me. I turn in a
full circle to watch them as best I can. Now is my chance. I run
at the one that’s in front of me, sticking my dagger in its neck.
The exile crumbles to the ground. The rest seem frozen and I
run with everything I have. I can hear their howls behind me as
they take chase.
“Don’t look back,” I tell myself and then I look over my
shoulder just as one of them leaps off the side of the mountain,
taking me tumbling to the ground. I try to stab him, but he
hits my knife away and it clatters to the ground. I crawl back
and kick him in the face. He growls and reaches out with long
talons, tearing my cloak, ripping some of it off. I crawl on my
knees to get away. Then I’m pushed down, scraping my cheek
as he leaps on my back and rolls me over. His breath smells like
rotten meat.
The other exiles were cheering, but now they’re all silent. A
giant of a man is standing behind the exile. My eyes widen at
the sheer size of him. He looks like a warrior from some jungle
movie. He is definitely over seven foot tall with jet-black straight
hair that hangs down his back. His chest is bare and I’ve never
seen such black eyes. He places his hands on the exile’s head and
twists, snapping his neck like a twig. He pulls the dead exile off
me and throws him against the side of the mountain. I can hear
his bones crunch as his lifeless body hits the wall. All the other
exiles hunch farther down to the ground, looking afraid.
The giant looks at me then and speaks. “My name is Carew
Warrior.” I just nod, afraid if I speak I’ll say something wrong
and end up like the exile. “No others will attack you. You have
my word.” This guy could kill me in seconds
“What about you? Do I have your word?” My voice shakes
uncontrollably.
He inclines his head. “Of course, princess.” He reaches out
his hand and pulls me off the ground. He is handsome in a
manly animal way. I look around at the exiles. They are still
bowing low to the ground.
“Why are they following me?” I ask.
He turns, fixing the creatures with a fierce look. “You have
encountered them before?” The creatures look afraid. Good.
“Yes, one attacked me a few days ago.”
He shakes his head. “Our king will be very unhappy to hear
that. He will punish the one who attacked you, severely.” A grin
spreads across his face, making me squirm.
“It is dead.” The image of him throwing himself on Tristan’s
sword springs to mind.
Carew looks surprised. “You killed it yourself?”
“No, my protector did.” That sounds impressive.
He looks around, standing on alert. “And where is your
protector? I did not smell him.”
“Smell him?”
He looks at me angrily. “I asked you a question, princess. I
expect an answer.”
“Sorry, I’m on my own.” My voice is stuttery. His name is
niggling at me. I’ve heard it before. Then I remember Musa
saying his name. But I don’t mention it. I look at the exiles and
back at Carew. “Are you their master?” I ask. “Yes. Enough
questions, princess. You may pass.”
I gather my scattered cloak around me and walk past Carew,
and the exiles part for me. I turn around. “Thank you.”
His face falls a little as if no one has ever thanked him before.
Then it fills with hate. “Go before I change my mind.”
I run. I don’t stop until my lungs are burning, and then the
settlement comes into view, with a large castle sitting right in
the middle. That’s where my sister will be. I take off my tattered
cloak and sit a rock on top of it. I will come back this way
and can get it then. I forgot my dagger, but it doesn’t matter.
Tristan’s dagger is in my other boot.
Seeing Saskia from this point is amazing. The kingdom is
huge, stretching for miles, but I don’t have time for sightseeing.
I still have to get into the castle.
I move down the hill towards the settlement. When I reach
the village/city, everyone has taken to the cobbled streets,
bartering with goods. It feels for the first time that I have been
transported back in time. The smell of home baking tantalizes
my senses, but there’s still an undercurrent of sewerage seeping
through.
I move through the village with my head down, but I can’t
see the castle from ground level. I just know to keep moving
straight. Once I find the main square, I find the castle. There
are no walls surrounding it. It just stan
ds huge and daunting
before me. There are a lot of people moving towards the castle
so I join in with the crowd. As we get closer, I can see guards are
scattered everywhere. Four of them block the main entrance.
This could be a harder task than I first thought. The crowd
makes its way to the left of the castle. I follow until a huge wall
comes into view. Everyone seems to be moving that way. I break
off and move down the wall that is facing the castle. A side door
is slightly open. I can hear the hustle of a busy kitchen coming
from behind the door. Steam pours out into the street. I keep
my back to the wall, trying to slow down my racing heart. A
stout man with a washcloth slung across his shoulder comes out
the door with a large pot. He sloshes it down an open gully. No
wonder the place smells of rotten food and sewerage.
When he turns to go back in, he stops at the sight of me. “You
new?” he grumbles. I nod my head. “Get to work, then. The
pots won’t wash themselves.” He pushes me roughly through
the door while mumbling about how useless his staff is. I move
through the hectic kitchen, keeping my head down. I can see a
door just up ahead.
“You.” I stop as the man comes after me. “The pots are over
there,” he says through gritted teeth while pointing. I go to walk
away and he hits me with a wet cloth across the arm. It stings
like hell. I want to grab the cloth and hit him back, but I have to
act afraid, which isn’t too hard. “Don’t wear clothes like that in
my kitchen ever again.”
I nod. “Yes, sir.” I race to the pots and start scrubbing them.
They are stacked in rows on top of each other, all caked in
different foods. Hopefully he will leave or take a break soon;
then I’ll have my chance to escape. I wash the pots while trying
to keep an eye out. Steam rises from large pots on the stove and
flames jump from pans; the heat is hard to tolerate. Then I see
the man going out the door again with another pot. It’s now or
never. I make a beeline for the door.
Just before I reach it, a woman grabs my shoulder, spinning
me around “Are you dumb? Boss said to wash the pots so wash
them.” This woman is a bully. I can see she is enjoying this. She
grabs my arm when I don’t move.
“Don’t touch me.” She’s wasting my time. I push her away