267. Ayla
267. Ayla
Ayla had promised herself she wouldn’t interfere in the tangled mess between Eude, Hudde, and Marianna. But watching Marianna suffer because of the twins made her blood boil. Their carelessness had finally driven Marianna away. Ayla had begged her to stay. She had failed. But that didn’t mean she was ready to give up.
Kerra—panting in the heat—was sprawled across a pile of pillows, looking pitiful as she watched Ayla pace, biting her nails and muttering under her breath.
Ayla liked Marianna. They were friends now, along with Eluvene. Real friends—something Ayla had never had. She cherished it. The laughter, the whispered conversations, the freedom to talk about things she’d never dare bring up with Rhobart. Marianna couldn’t just leave. Ayla would beg if she had to.
She was still pacing when Rhobart ducked into the tent they shared with Tizgar and Gorn.
“Tell me you convinced her to stay,” she blurted the moment she flung herself into his arms.
Rhobart caught her gently, cradling her hands in his. He pressed soft kisses to her trembling fingers. The balm Milton had given her was working—slowly, the spasms left behind by the dark magic were becoming a distant memory.
“I didn’t speak to her,” he admitted.
“But you promised!” Frustration cracked in her voice.
Rhobart leaned his forehead against hers. “T’xoria, listen to me. I don’t think she’ll leave.”
“You don’t?” Her voice wavered. “Why not?”
He shrugged slightly. “Just a feeling.”
Ayla breathed out, shaky but hopeful. Rhobart’s instincts were rarely wrong. If he said Marianna would stay, she believed him.
He kissed her temple. “Varan wants us to head for Ishtar tomorrow.”
“The sooner we reach Ishtar, the sooner we leave for Korinus,” Ayla murmured.
One artifact remained. One step closer to finding Uzriel. One step closer to ending the Orcs and Beliar. One step closer to a real life—finally—with Rhobart.
“Varan said we should leave the horses behind. They’re not made for the desert. We’ll travel on thaldrakes instead. I’ve already arranged for a stable to care for the horses.”
Thaldrakes. Ayla had only seen them once. Towering beasts, revered and graceful despite their size. Sinewy bodies wrapped in sun-hardened hide, long crescent horns spiraling back like shields against predators and the desert’s lingering spirits. Their wide, sledge-like feet let them glide over shifting dunes, blending into the sand with their pale, earthy tones.
“I’ll take Kerra to the thaldrakes so they will get used to her scent,” said Rhobart.
The sky was still dark when Varan’s caravan began its slow, deliberate march southeast toward Ishtar.
Forty-one thaldrakes moved in near-silence—some bearing riders, others stacked with massive bundles of leather, crates tied with rope. Salt bricks, dried meat and fish, silk, spices from the Southern Islands—their backs carried the weight of the desert’s trade, shaped like offerings carried to the sky.
Ayla and Rhobart rode together, Kerra padding along beside the thaldrake’s flanks. Close behind, Eude and Marianna rode side by side. He sat behind her, his arms around her. He whispered something into her ear, making Marianna laugh.
Behind them rode Hewe and Hudde. A muscle twitched in Hudde’s jaw, betraying his anger.
Marianna and Eude had disappeared the previous day and night, returning just before the caravan left—hand in hand, smiling. Hudde had searched for them, worried that something had happened to them, but to no avail. And when they appeared, unscared, he refused to speak to either of them. Ayla didn’t need to be a Seer to know that something had happened between the three of them and had upset Hudde.
The caravan moved fast, since Varan wanted to reach the next oasis by nightfall. The thaldrakes could walk or run for hours without needing rest, only an occasional stop to snack on tough-skinned cacti, replenishing themselves.
By midday, the caravan passed the ruins of an ancient city. A ghost of what once was. It was said the Great Desert had been a lush forest long ago—until greed stripped it bare. The humans who built their shining city had cut down the forest to make way to their new home and to use the wood. That was their doom. The rain stopped. Rivers dried. And the desert claimed everything.
Now, wild beasts prowled among broken columns. Bandits, too. But Varan’s men were trained for that. The thaldrakes, more than muscle, could sense danger long before it showed its face.
By nightfall, they reached a small oasis. Less grand than Lago’s, but welcoming. The men moved quickly, unloading the thaldrakes and setting up tents. The women prepared dinner. The beasts drank deeply, munched on cacti, then curled around the camp in a protective ring—an ancient instinct that had never faded.
After the meal, Ayla sat cross-legged beside Marianna, patiently showing her the braiding styles preferred in Nordmar. Marianna was determined to style the twins’ hair herself.
Later, Ayla said quietly as she sank beside Rhobart on the rug in front of their tent. “She’s in love,” she said quietly.
“Who?” he asked, pouring her tea.
“Marianna. With Eude. And Hudde.”
“They’re going to break her heart,” Rhobart said evenly.
“They already did.”
She fell silent and took a sip of her tea. Then, softly, added “I want to ask Marianna if she knows where my sister is.”
Rhobart turned to her, brows lifting. “You have a sister?”
Ayla nodded slowly. “My mother mentioned another daughter. She never told me her name. But I’ve been thinking about her lately.” Her voice cracked. “I’m afraid I killed her. When I buried the Cursed Castle under the avalanche of rocks.”
The next chapter will be ready Friday