The Adani Chronicles: Birthright

Ryn woke hard with a knot in her stomach, a few hours after falling asleep. She sat up quickly, examining the darkness of her room in an attempt to locate anything amiss, scratching her head distractedly. Her brain itched. Nothing seemed to be wrong; the room was warm and quiet, the embers of her dying fire still glowing dimly in the fireplace. There was no sense of immediate danger, nothing that gave her pause inside these four walls.

Still something, something wasn’t right. She scratched her head again and threw off the covers. Dressing quickly and pulling back her sleep-mussed mop of hair, she grabbed her staff and left her room, navigating the inn’s few corridors until she stepped out into the fresh night air. All seemed well; the homes and buildings around her were dark and quiet, the wind rustling through the nearby trees. She sucked in a deep breath, letting the bracing breeze chase away any remaining sleepiness, trying to hone in on what was bothering her. But even out here, all seemed quiet—

The punch of adrenaline hit her just before the ear-piercing scream did. She was running before she quite knew what she was doing, headed toward the city walls. She knew that sound—unfortunately, so did the guards, and a wild animal—a lynx—that close to town was as likely as not to get shot just for being there.

The fuss caught her eye as the walls came into view; several guards above her and to the left were talking in low, urgent tones, and an archer was running toward them across the rampart. It didn’t take a scholar to realize what was happening, and Ryn shouted her alarm even as she took the steps up to the wall by twos.

“Wait!” she bellowed, reaching the top and not stopping. The guards had seen her now, and were gathered in a knot with their weapons out. Their expressions ranged from wary to outright dangerous, and Ryn slowed as she neared, noting that the archer’s attention was on her as well. “Wait, please, don’t shoot!”

The highest-ranking guard’s eyes narrowed. “Shoot what, lass? The crier hasn’t given news of what the threat is yet.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I heard the sound.” The archer moved, as though he’d just remembered why he was there, and Ryn dashed in front of him—a near-suicidal move at the best of times, and this man had an arrow nocked already, but she barely cared. “Don’t!”

The archer glared and made to shove past her, while the one who’d spoken before asked, “Ain’ no other way, lady. We don’ like killin’ them neither, but this un’s too close to town. We gotta keep ’em scared of us, or they’ll—”

“He’s mine!” she shouted, standing her ground. Blanket silence met her words, looks of pity and wariness transforming into suspicion instantly. Lynxes were rarely even seen, much less tamed; in their eyes, she was either a liar or a sorceress.

“Your’n, is he?” the commander’s eyes narrowed severely.

Ryn swallowed. “Just...let me go to him. I’ll take him away from here and you won’t have to deal with him again.” She patted the air in a conciliatory gesture. They appeared unmoved, so she let some of her fear show on her face. “Please, we mean you no harm, we are just passing through town and I left him outside the walls to avoid any alarm.”

“Then why is he here now?” the archer asked, voice low and threatening.

“Something must have gone wrong.” Ryn looked back to the leader. Large he may be, but the man obviously wasn’t a bad sort. Just doing his job, he was. “Please let me go.”

After a moment of consideration, the big man lowered his sword and nodded. His guards did the same, and Ryn shot off toward the side. She vaulted over it, managing to catch a couple of handholds on the way down so that the impact, though jarring, didn’t leave her broken and gasping at the bottom. She hit the ground running, and barely saw his large shadow before Kota was there before her. He nudged her face with his nose and mewled in his throat, pawing at her and rearing backward any time she tried to soothe him.

"Kisa,” she murmured, reaching for him, but he dodged her again, clearly wanting her to follow him. “Kota, settle. What are you doing here? What’s wrong?”

“Ryn?” The shout came from atop the city gate, not far from where she knelt, and she recognized the voice.

“Down here, Evin,” she called back, moving out of the trees and into the light, keeping Kota behind her in case the guards decided to change their mind about the lynx’s safety. “Something’s wrong with Kota.”

“Perhaps the same thing that is wrong with my brother,” Evin responded, worry clear on his face even from this distance. Ryn felt a ball of anxiety coalesce in her stomach. “He’s gone.”

She took a deep breath, trying to figure out Brandt’s angle here. It would make sense that if Kota had seen the elder Prince, he would come fetch Ryn as quickly as possible—but she didn’t like what that implied. Did Brandt really intend to take on the Beast by himself? How?

Better yet, why?

“Settle our account at the inn and get our things,” Ryn called up to Evin. “Kota and I will wait down the road a half-span or so.” Here, she looked to the big guard. “Will that satisfy you, sir?”

He nodded, and she turned, clicking her tongue at Kota. The lynx, apparently glad to be moving in the right direction, bounded ahead of her, down the road. Evin disappeared from the wall, presumably to do as she had said, so Ryn went to the spot she said she’d be and waited.

Brandt moved as quickly as he dared through the pitch-black night. The moon was new, the sky clouded, so there was no light at all from the heavens, and he traveled in near-complete darkness.

How appropriate, he thought. Appropriate that he be in the dark figuratively as well as literally, for he really had no idea what he was doing now. He knew only three things. The first, that the quest must be completed: the amulet must be recovered from the Beast in his lair—or he must wrench from the creature an account of its whereabouts and then go somewhere else to retrieve it. The second, that Evin must be left behind: this entire journey had been a mess, and his brother was closer than ever to finding out about his own identity in all the wrong ways. Brandt could not stomach the thought of Evin being told by a monster, or worse, taken by Râza or one of his brutes. The lad would be safe in Retwood.

He won’t stay there, a voice whispered in Brandt’s mind, one that sounded suspiciously like his common sense. You know your brother, he’ll come after you.

He ignored it and kept moving. The third thing he knew, beyond all doubt and with all certainty, was that Râza knew what Evin was to him. He had hoped otherwise, tried to convince himself they were being hunted by the Val’gren simply because they were the last two remaining Princes of Laendor, and their ransom would be substantial indeed, tried to deny the truth that stared Evin in the eyes that night they had stood against Râza’s hunting party.

Those blood-red eyes had sparked with recognition upon seeing his younger brother, and nothing had ever scared Brandt so badly.

Râza knew Evin was his son, and suddenly, the quest itself had become secondary; a nuisance, a chore to be completed before Brandt could get back to the real business of protecting his brother.

The implications of Râza knowing Evin were immense and terrifying. How long had the monster known? Had Evin been observed before they even left Sannfold? Had Râza’s agents ever been close to him, seen him, touched him?

Had this entire quest been a giant trap to lure in his brother?

He did not know, and frankly thought it rather far-fetched—it had been Gunnar’s quest originally, after all—but that did not matter; it was possible, and so he intended to keep Evin as far from the jaws of the trap as he could. The Beast’s Lair was an eight hour walk north of Retwood. He would travel there and arrive by morning, perhaps just as his companions were waking. While they went about their business and began suspecting his absence, and then worrying and searching for him, he would be completing his task, recovering the amulet. By the time they mounted a search, he would be on his way back and perhaps run into them on the way.

Evin would be furious, and Ryn would quietly seethe, but the task would be done and they could make for the hunting lodge in Wellys at all speed. Brandt would get Evin back into the safety of their most isolated and well-protected family home, and then he would tell him the truth, with Mother by his side. They could tell him carefully, gently as possible, and give him time to absorb and process it before going back to Sannfold and presenting the amulet to Uncle Eirik.

He nodded to himself. Yes, that was a good plan. It was definitely the best he could hope for at this point.

On he walked, navigating by the sparse light of the stars and keeping his goal in mind. The sky began to lighten as he drew closer to the entrance of the Beast’s lair, and he hoped that this day would see the end of a creature that had terrorized Retwood for years. Once upon a time, the townspeople had thought to do something about it, but the war party consisting of every able-bodied male and some of the females had been decimated entirely. It had nearly destroyed the town. So now, they kept watch, but did not make any particular challenge to the Beast, for the creature was formidable beyond telling.

Brandt was going to take him on single-handedly.

Son of Signy, he congratulated himself. This is either the bravest or the most dimwitted thing you’ve ever done.

The entrance arrived almost as suddenly as the dawn did, a yawning cave mouth that was unnaturally dark just beyond its rough stone arch. The contrast was so great between the inside of the cavern, dark and cold that seeped into his bones, and the warmth of the sun rousing the birds to sing cheerily in its dappled light, that Brandt just had to stand and wonder at it for several full minutes.

What am I doing?

At last, he pulled himself from his reverie, gathered his courage, and moved from the light into the dark.