Echoes of the Raven (The Eldrystone #2)

5. CHAPTER 5

5

VALERIA

“Why did I agree to this?”

Gaspar Patrach - Romani Diviner - 21 AV

R ífíor walked out of the alcove, his back stiff, his every move deliberate. Anyone else watching him would have thought he was calm, unaffected, but I knew better. I knew by the straight line of his shoulders and the slight twitch of his fingers that he was fuming.

Maybe I should be afraid. Calierin will probably be back soon to administer a different kind of torture. But despite the possibility, all I feel is satisfaction. I can see he’s not impervious to my jabs and insults, though he hides the bulk of his emotions all too well.

I don’t know the measure of his wounds and what caused them, but I know they’re there. With the full power of my blackened heart, I want to inflict deeper wounds, and then pour salt in them. I wager my refusal is a valiant effort—not that I believe it’s enough to even the score. He hurt me to the center of my soul, as deeply as he could.

Father, why did I doubt you?

If I had listened to him, I could have avoided so much pain. Even after Esmeralda’s betrayal, I remained a fool. Jago tracked her down and delivered her to me, and in my stupid heart all I could do was forgive her and let her go. I should have known then that no one can be trusted. No one.

But I needed one more lesson to finally learn, and Bastien was the perfect maestro for the task.

I clench my jaw and fists. I want to rage and punch the walls, but before he left, Rífíor tied me to the filthy cot to which I’m confined at all hours unless Calierin pays me a visit.

There’s an ache deep in my bones that makes me want to surrender. I’ve spent many hours fighting my bindings to no avail and eating the scraps they bring me on a bent metal plate. I’m weak and drowsy, and it doesn’t take long for a restless sleep to sink its claws into my mind, taking me away into a deeper darkness than the one surrounding me.

Moments later, I’m jolted awake by a sudden scrape near my bed along with the pressure of a heavy hand over my mouth.

“ Shh. ”

Shaking my head from side to side, I struggle, but the pressure only grows more intense as well as the shushing.

“Settled down, ni?a,” a familiar voice whispers.

I blink, willing my gaze to focus on a weathered face, dark beard, and pointed ears. Bright green eyes peer at me, and I finally recognize him.

“That’s it. You know who I am, don’t you?” he asks.

I nod, uncertain.

“I’m here to help you, so keep those lips tight.” Slowly, he removes his hand.

“Gaspar?”

El Gran Místico, the Romani fortune teller who helped me escape Alsur, Don Justo, and Bastien.

“’Tis I,” he replies as he works on my bindings, quickly releasing my wrists and ankles.

“How are you…?”

“No time to explain. Let’s get outta here before we’re found. ”

Once all the ropes are undone, he helps me to my feet. “Can you walk?” he asks as I sway on my feet.

“Yes.”

“Follow me. Quiet… like your life depends on it, ‘cause it does.”

I weakly shake my head and try to muster the strength to do as he says.

He leads me out of the alcove, and we step over a fallen figure and continue down a long dark passage, illuminated by torches sparsely affixed to the wall. I trip on the length of my dress and stumble a couple of times, but I manage to keep my footing. We come to another alcove, this one connected to three other passages.

Gaspar takes the one in the middle, his steps fast but silent. My feet are bare and cold, the heeled shoes I wore to the party long gone. At least it’s easier to move stealthily this way.

Wait, no! Something is wrong.

My mind reels with questions. How is El Gran Místico here? Who told him where to find me? Why is he helping me? None of this makes any sense. I come to a full stop, realizing that this is just another trick from Calierin, another espiritu-induced hallucination. Gaspar isn’t really here, and he isn’t leading me to freedom.

He turns to look at me. “What’s the matter, Princess? Need me to carry you? I’m not a young lad anymore, but I can try.” He attempts to wrap an arm around my waist.

I resist him, glaring at him with suspicion. “You’re not really here.”

He frowns, and it’s clear he thinks I’ve lost my mind. “’Course I am.” He takes my hand and squeezes it. “See, flesh and bones.”

Shaking him off, I take several steps back. “I’m not going anywhere with you. Your tricks won’t work on me anymore.”

“What did they do to you, ni?a?” There is a pitiful look in his eyes.

Tears come to me unbidden at the sight of his compassionate expression .

“I know it may be hard for you to trust anyone right now,” he says gently, “but you have to trust me. Promise you I won’t lead you astray.”

No. No. No.

I can’t trust anyone. The Romani betrayed me already. Esmeralda turned me in for a bag of gold after acting like my friend. But if Gaspar is the product of Calierin espiritu, how is she able to project him into my mind? She’s never met him, has she?

“C’mon.” He grabs my elbow and starts pulling me along.

“No!” I try to get free, but I’m too weak.

“Hush, girl!” he admonishes. “They’re going to hear us, and then we’ll both be trapped in these damn catacombs.”

“Who goes there?!” A deep voice comes from behind us.

“Saints and feathers!” Gaspar exclaims. “Look what you’ve done. I’m getting out of here. I suggest you follow me if you know what’s good for you.” He turns and hurries down the dark tunnel.

I stand there, frozen, unsure of what to do. I glance over my shoulder and notice the warm light of a torch moving closer.

“Who’s that?” the male asks, a veilfallen.

I make a split-second decision. Whether or not Gaspar is real, he is the only one offering to lead me to freedom. I have to follow him. Picking up my dress and holding it in trembling arms, I rush into the darkness ahead. I think I see Gaspar in the faint light of the infrequent torches. As my feet touch down on jagged rocks, the soles tear, and I struggle to muster the strength for the next step.

“Stop right there,” the veilfallen calls.

I come to a fork, and I have no idea which way Gaspar went. I look right and left, squinting at the darkness. Suddenly, a hand grabs my wrist and pulls me to the right.

“This way,” the Romani hisses.

And then we’re running, El Gran Místico pulling me along, nearly dragging me, and it’s all I can do to keep up. When my legs finally give out, and I fall to my knees, Gaspar picks me up, throws me over his shoulder, and keeps going.

I bounce up and down as he runs forward, my ribs aching as they hit his shoulder. He is surprisingly fast, a quarter fae if I remember correctly—his talk about not being a young lad anymore merely a jest.

I pick my head up and look back. That veilfallen is still after us, and he’s getting closer. A full fae, I’m sure, quite faster than Gaspar, and not encumbered by an awkward load.

Suddenly, the dank walls that have surrounded me for days fall away. A cool breeze stirs my hair.

Gaspar sprints ahead, leading us past a row of trees before veering sharply to the right. The veilfallen isn’t fooled though. He stays hot on our heels, closing in with each passing second.

“Set me down,” I say. “We need to fight him.”

But Gaspar keeps going, runs around a freestanding, broken wall, and screams, “I got her!”

Something slams against my back, driving the air from my lungs. Gaspar topples forward, and we go tumbling over the ground. I roll over him. He rolls over me, and we keep going. When we finally stop, the veilfallen male is also there, the one responsible for sending us sprawling. In one swift move, he springs to his feet and looms threateningly over us, a dagger raised.

“You’re not going anywhere,” he growls.

The male is as wide as a barrel. He is bald, which makes his ears appear even pointier.

Someone else stands behind the veilfallen. Carefully, he takes a step forward, raising a weapon over the veilfallen’s head.

Gaspar lifts his hands and begins to speak louder than necessary, likely to drown out any sounds from what I presume is his companion. “All right, all right, we surrend—”

The veilfallen senses the other man’s presence and begins to turn .

Thwack!

The weapon strikes our pursuer across the side of the face and knocks him to the ground. We watch the veilfallen try to stand, but our defender swings again and slams what turns out to be a wooden staff against the back of the veilfallen’s head, knocking him senseless at last.

I stare up at our champion with gratitude, and as a ray of moonlight cuts through the canopy above, I realize who he is.

“Jago!” I don’t know where the energy comes from, but I jump to my feet and wrap my arms around his neck. I pull away and hold his face between my hands. “Are you real?”

He frowns. “Of course, I’m real. But let’s go before more veilfallen come.” He offers a hand to Gaspar. “Are you all right, man?”

Gaspar takes the offered hand and nods.

Between the two of them, they practically carry me away, cutting through dense trees. My feet barely touch the ground, and I feel as if I’m floating. My head lolls, and my eyelids droop with exhaustion. The forest blurs, and I realize it’s all been another hallucination. I’m just a ghost in Calierin’s dreamscape.

I’m barely aware of being lifted and placed back on my filthy cot. Jago speaks in a tender voice and wipes my forehead with a wet cloth.

“You’re all right, Val. Everything is all right.”