White: Emala's Story (Ragoru Beginnings Book 1) Read online

  Mishar shrugged and signed to his brother. I want to go a little further. See what game is in the mountains.

  His brother scratched at his scruff and frowned as he turned his eyes toward the mountain. “You think the longhorn sheep have already dropped into the lower elevations? It is early yet.”

  The bitter wind is premature this season, Mishar returned and Vordri nodded his agreement.

  “Would you like me to accompany you?”

  Mishar felt a swell of affection for his sibling and shook his head. Korash will expect one of us to remain to help guard the territory. Inform him of my intent, brother, and to look for my return in a day or two.

  Vordri grimaced with obvious reluctance but inclined his head. Mishar held back a smile. Even after so many revolutions, his brother was still protective and still hated to let Mishar far out of his sight.

  Ragoru triads formed with blooded brothers among them were rare exceptions. He counted himself lucky that his brother hadn’t left him to form new triad bonds. Ever since he got caught in a huntsman’s snare as a rog, sacrificing his vocal cords in the process before his brother arrived to free him, Mishar was marked as undesirable. Upon reaching adulthood, he would have been abandoned to die alone without the comfort and support of a triad.

  If anything, Mishar and Vordri grew closer since the accident. He not only helped Mishar develop a communication system, but when they reached adulthood, he did not abandon his disabled brother. Vordri had been determined, from the time they came of age and left their parents’ den, that they would form their own triad. Neither one of them had the disposition to be a lead male and so it took many seasons of searching before they finally found Korash.

  Though Korash had struggled to put together a triad due to his unfortunate dark coloring, he’d initially been discouraged by his inability to communicate with Mishar. It had been bad enough that they nearly gave up and looked for another lead. Vordri had little patience courting the stubborn lead and hadn’t been interested in a male joining their family who didn’t automatically possess compassion for his brother.

  It had been Mishar who’d seen past Korash’s stubborn nature. Mishar and Vordri would have a chance at securing a mate if they were joined with a charismatic and attractive lead male, and Korash would possibly have a chance with a strong, unhampered triad. He worried for their success as a family. To Mishar, such concerns made him desirable and he’d insisted on having Korash as their lead despite Vordri’s reservations. It took time, and though their family was never blessed with a mate, despite their best efforts, they had grown into a closer and stronger family unit.

  None of them were young anymore, after so many seasons, and they had gradually grown content with their lot in life. They had a comfortable den and an established routine for the way their family operated. Only every now and then did one of them entertain a wistful thought of what life in their cozy den might have been like if they’d brought a female beyond the seven standing stones that marked the boundaries of their territory along a hidden valley at the base of the mountain.

  Vordri sighed. “Two days. If you are not back by the third morning, I’m coming out to look for you. Korash can grumble all he likes.”

  Mishar’s mouth dropped in silent laughter, only a rough huff of air escaping him as his shoulders shook with his mirth and he inclined his head toward Vordri. He had no doubt that his stubborn brother would do exactly that. Two days, he agreed.

  Vordri gave him one last long, disgruntled look, his ears laying back petulantly, before he growled out something indistinct under his breath and turned to lope back down the slope. Mishar watched his brother’s departure for several moments before turning his attention back toward the mountain. The mountains were always said to hold a certain wealth. Humans had mines in the mountains to bring metals up to the surface, some of which the Ragoru managed to acquire for their own uses when the mood struck them, but for his kind, the true wealth of the mountains came from the plentiful fatty game that would feed them through the winter.

  His tail brushed the back of his legs as his four hands flexed eagerly. Perhaps more than any of his triad brothers, Mishar loved the hunt. It was more to him than just a way to acquire food; it was also a sacred dance that was part of the very heartbeat of the world and the graces bestowed by the Mother.

  Mishar breathed in again, drawing in all the scents of the world around him, finding his place among them. He caught a peculiar note on an errant breeze that grabbed his attention and he opened himself to the call of the hunt. Caught within the spell of its hold he ran, the wind ruffling his mane and fur. The mountains were calling, and he would answer. He would bring back a rich hunt for his den and family. A triumphant smile curved Mishar’s muzzle as the mountain drew closer, its shadow encompassing him. Mishar was certain that when he returned it would be with a great prize.

  Chapter 5

  The mountains were harsher than Emala had anticipated. Yes, she knew that the trails went into the higher elevations where the winds were cold, and the powdery snow on the trails was a very real hazard, but the winter snows hadn’t yet set in. She’d anticipated a quick and easy pass over the trails. The sudden snowstorm descending upon her hadn’t been expected at all.

  It never snowed this early in the mountains!

  Within a matter of hours, her smooth ride became bumpy as Winter sank into accumulating snow. At one point the mare became stuck and Emala was forced to climb from the horse’s back, her own legs sinking deep into the snow, chilling her to the bone. Ignoring it, she pulled lightly on the reins and urged the animal onto firmer ground. After the third time having to pull the horse free, she shivered against the wind that cut through furs sodden from ceaseless snowfall.

  Panting, she leaned into the mare’s flank, attempting to warm herself the best she could by the sharing of body heat. Winter lowered her head over Emala’s shoulder, the animal’s ice-frosted nostrils blowing out a burst of hot steam close to her neck. Instinctively, she brought her mittened hands up to cup Winter’s muzzle, warming it and rubbing the built-up ice as it melted. The mare nickered gently as she leaned against Emala, seeking comfort. Emala patted the sleek gray neck and frowned at the darkness ahead of them, broken only by the flurry of snow swirling closer around them.

  They were both exhausted and needed to rest, but Emala was afraid of trying to camp on the unprotected trail where they could slowly freeze to death. Emala stared numbly at the endless white of the mountain. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She shivered, unable to move, caught in the awfulness of her situation, when a light appeared in the darkness. Emala frowned and squinted through the snow, desperately trying to catch sight of it again.

  The light flared again as if from a swinging lantern and she jolted, her eyes widening. She stared at the flickering light uncertainly. Someone was out there! Her fingers tightened around Winter’s reins. The last thing she wanted to do was call attention to herself. She was not only likely being hunted by Erik, but she had little doubt that there were others who would take advantage of her situation. Still, she couldn’t ignore the fact that if she didn’t find shelter soon, she wouldn’t likely make it to morning.

  She needed help whether she liked it or not.

  Licking her chapped, numb lips, she called out. “Hello? Is someone there?”

  The light paused and then seemed to grow brighter for a moment as if whoever held it suddenly took several steps in her direction. A male voice was barely audible through the wind, but she heard it! “Hello? Miss? Are you there?”

  Emala’s eyes teared up as she watched the approach of the gradually brightening light. “Yes! I’m here!”

  A massive furry form rounded a bend, and she squinted as the lamp rose close in front of her face. It pulled back just far enough that she was able to make out a man wrapped in thick furs, his eyes peering at her. He leaned over her and she could smell a hint of vodka on him, but not so much that it was alarming. His dark eyes widened with surprise as
his gaze roamed over her.

  “What in the name of the gods is a little thing like you doing out here all by yourself?” he muttered in surprise.

  “I was traveling to visit my family who live in a village on the other side of the mountain!” she shouted her lie against the wind. “I’m afraid that I wasn’t expecting this storm to come in and am now a bit lost!”

  “You must mean Myst Sanctuary Village. It’s one of the oldest colonial villages beyond the forest at the other side of this mountain, but I’d wager that it is the closest to Wayfairer Citadel on the most direct routes. We’re heading that way ourselves. You must have really gotten off the trail to be this far out. It is only because I was out hunting,” he slapped a belt at his waist from which hung several fat rabbits, “that I even ran into you. Makes my blood as cold as everything else on me to think of you freezing out here. You poor thing. Here, come with me to my caravan. We will get something warm into you and provide a good spot for you and your mare to get out of this snow and get some rest.”

  The man was so open and friendly, and his concern so blatant, that it dispelled Emala’s unease. He didn’t seem like some sort of ruffian. His coat was of good quality and his hospitality carried a note of honesty to it. She couldn’t find any good reason to distrust him and stupidly refuse his offer when her situation was as dire as it was at present.

  “Thank you. That is very kind,” she said around her chattering teeth.

  His laughter startled her with its depth and merriment. “Not at all. It is not often that we come across something so precious as yourself. I couldn’t bear to leave you behind in the snows. We’re just around this curve of rocks, this way. Mind your step.”

  Emala guided Winter around the bend with caution, keeping close to the burly form of her rescuer lest she became lost or fall off an unseen ledge. Not that he didn’t have a nice back and thighs from what she could see. She was concentrating so hard on his back that she didn’t hear his rumbled question until it had already passed.

  “Pardon? What was that?” she queried politely, her face flushing despite the bitter cold at being caught staring at a stranger’s backside.

  “My name is Alix, and who might you be?”

  “Jaryna,” she said. Though she didn’t regard the man as a threat, it didn’t seem wise to share her name when Erik would be seeking her.

  “Jaryna,” he said slowly as if tasting the name on his tongue. “You know that name reminds me of a tale of a sea sprite, a mermaid they called them in the before times, of a similar name as far as tales go.”

  Alix preceded to entertain her with his tale of a wily fish-tailed enchantress, who charmed sailors passing her rock, as they continued to walk down through the pass, his hand coming out every so often to gently steady her. His hand was warm and calloused, and its touch not wholly unwelcome as she became increasingly charmed and relaxed in his company. Although it had been some time since she’d enjoyed the companionship of a young guard, she was not inexperienced in the ways of intimacy. She toyed with the idea of perhaps passing a night of pleasure with the trader, or however many nights it took to get to Myst Sanctuary if he was open to the arrangement.

  Alix’s eyes crinkled merrily at her obvious regard. If she had any doubt that he might return her interest, it was quickly put to rest. He reached forward and took her hand in his as he steered her around some minor obstacles. “I confess that I am startled to see someone so delicate on these mountains alone,” he said with a warm smile. “Surely you are too young to be traveling such distances by yourself?”

  She returned the smile, laughing at the obvious flirtation. “I may be a bit short, but I just turned twenty. Old enough to make my own decisions.”

  His smile widened. “So you are. I do believe that your decisions are working quite well in my favor.”

  Emala grinned at the more obvious flirtatious banter. The more time she spent in his company as they made the arduous trek down the steep incline, the less seriously she took the man who seemed to be a natural-born charmer. The last of her wariness had faded away and she had no doubt that she could enjoy a few private moments as long as things did not become too serious between them. She just hoped that she didn’t do anything that would cause him to think she was leading him on.

  She wasn’t so unkind as to do that.

  Unlike the spoiled, pampered men in the Citadel who had their pick of women—even humble-born guards, guildsmen, and city merchants—traders spent so much time in the wilds where few dared to go that they often lacked companionship. It would be cruel to toy with him. She would have to be clear about her intentions.

  Her mother had wanted her to flee into the woods and find Ragoru mates as Jaryna once had herself. Emala wasn’t sure about that. Despite her mother’s insistence that the women of her family chose among each generation those who would journey to meet with potential mates in the northern territories before they’d been wiped out from the region, Emala didn’t know if that was a destiny she wished to embrace.

  As far as she was concerned, she had gotten away from the Citadel to carve out her own destiny. A peaceful life in one of the far-flung villages sounded really nice to her. She could settle with some semblance of civilization that she was accustomed to rather than live in the wilderness. She could live as she pleased in a village, and if she were inclined to take a husband, there would likely be men welcome to the idea, be he a merchant or another lonesome wanderer.

  How many times had she heard servants giggling about running off to find a husband among the outer village sanctuaries? The idea seemed absurd at the time, but now with this sweet, flirtatious man and her own freedom at risk, Emala could see the appeal. Still, she didn’t want him to assume that she was offering anything that she was definitely not. She wanted to find a good place to hide and live in peace, not a lifetime as a trader’s wife being hauled all over the continent and possibly dangerously close to the Citadel again or another like it.

  Emala wanted to sigh. It was best if she left that itch unscratched to avoid any potential misunderstandings. She would stick with a bit of harmless, friendly banter and take it no further. “Hopefully my decisions receive a better turn in my fortunes,” she rejoined playfully.

  He chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he led her through a thick copse of trees.

  The relief was almost immediate. Though the snow still fell through the branches, it wasn’t nearly as overbearing nor was the snow so deep and challenging to walk through. Within minutes, she saw a cheerful fire and several lanterns wink at her from the darkness long before she was able to make out the sloping form of the merchant wagons.

  Several individuals huddled around the fire looked up as they approached. She couldn’t clearly make out any of them beneath their thick fur coats and hoods, but they went still as if caught by surprise.

  “Alix, what have you there?” one of the men asked in a raspy voice.

  “A little lost one whom I’ve brought to join us at our fire,” Alix replied with a deep chuckle.

  Emala turned a confused look on him. Why did he speak in circles to his friends? Or perhaps it was just her who was baffled? Everyone else seemed to understand him well enough and broke into grins. The company was small, with two other men and a lone woman with unwashed blond curls confined in a simple cotton scarf. She strode up to Emala and pushed her face in close, her nose wrinkling as her eyes raked over Emala with the scrutiny of one examining livestock. A flutter of fear awoke in Emala’s belly and she drew back, but not quick enough before the wiry woman struck, her fingers wrapping painfully sharp around Emala’s wrist.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” she snapped.

  Alix’s voice rumbled with laughter. “Nici, don’t go scaring her. It is much easier when these things go without conflict.”

  “What things?” Emala asked. She looked up at Alix. The bear of a man, who had been so charming and easy to be with, didn’t seem quite so harmless anymore. It was as if a shadow had sudd
enly been cast over him. Then he smiled cheerfully, and she wondered if she imagined the threat. He’d been nothing but gracious yet she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong.

  “Nothing to worry about,” Alix assured her as he swept her beneath his arm. “Come and warm yourself beside the fire. Nici, see to the mare, please. Dres! Bring our lady here some food and a hot mug of cider. You will be well taken care of, Jaryna. You’ve met my sister Nici and that fellow there is her husband Dres. Over by the wagon is my cousin Nash. I am a merchant by trade, but kin out here is better help than what money can buy.” He laughed almost too loud and Emala responded with a weak, uncertain smile.

  Dres, a lanky man, from what she could see of his long lean legs poking out from beneath his coat, shot up and headed to the side of the wagon where they seemed to have some sort of portable kitchen set up. He didn’t speak to her. His eyes only shifted to Alix when he was mentioned by name.

  Alix’s hands pushed her gently down on a large rock facing the fire. She had to admit that it felt good to be warm after being stranded so long in the icy cold winds and snow. Leaning closer to the fire, she barely glanced up when a dented metal plate and mug were thrust in front of her. Accepting them with a whisper of thanks, she dived into the hot meal as if she hadn’t eaten all day despite her robust meal at the manor and the thick stew and bread in the village. Though it was only hours ago since the village, it already felt like days since she’d last eaten after fighting against the snow.

  The porridge was tasteless and runny but at least it wasn’t burnt. Emala was hungry enough that it took little effort to consume the contents of her bowl. The cider was another matter. She normally enjoyed the sweet and tart taste of well-made cider, but what they gave her tasted odd. Maybe it had gone sour. She set the cup down on the ground beside her feet after one sip and focused on her porridge. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Alix pick up her cup. He smiled and thrust it toward her.