Heir of Scars I: Parts 1-8 Read Online Free PDF Page B

thirteen years of age, Adria felt like a child again. She closed her eyes, and in self-loathing desperation, whispered a prayer to the faceless god of her father’s Sisterhood.
    “Girl, speak,” a man said, slowly and with an odd accent, and her eyes snapped open. He spoke Aeman. “Why do you… travel so far from home?”
    “Lost…” she whispered weakly. Then, a little stronger, “Sir, I am lost.”
    She heard the voice speak a little lower, in the strange language, and heard laughter from more than one place around her. Still frightened, she was now also angry at being mocked.
    Adria glanced down at her blade, then again noted just how far the arrows had sunk into the earth. Her own bow was strapped uselessly upon her back. Still, in their laughter, they were less than careful. She could make out the general location of three of them, at least, should she have to flee. But there might be more — she was almost certain there were.
    “From where are you lost?” The man continued. His voice, though accented, was steady. He did not have to search for words too long. “You have wandered miles from any village or Aeman road.”
    He had moved. By his voice, he should have been close enough for her to notice his movement, despite the darkness and thickness of the trees. These must be ghosts, Adria sighed. But … ghosts who rain arrows and laughter?
    Whatever they were, they obviously were moving to surround her — it was probably already too late to run. Judging from the arrows about her feet, this was almost certain. Still, the voice somehow calmed her a little. She was slowly regaining her control.
    “I am… from Highreach,” she managed. It was the only place she could think of at the moment that wasn’t the truth.
    “You lie,” the voice responded without anger. Closer, now … just a little to the left. “Your voice is not from Highreach, and neither are you. You’re from further north. Have you never noticed the difference in Aeman speech, even three villages away?”
    He translated some of their exchange again, and there was a little more laughter. They now certainly felt little need to keep from revealing themselves. They had stopped moving, and now Adria knew she was completely surrounded. Six or seven .
    But the man’s voice… He spoke the last phrases rather easily. Aeman was his first tongue, Adria could now tell, though the other came just as easily to his lips, and was more often used. She had a strange feeling in her stomach, a memory of sorts, stirring.
    “I don’t… travel often,” she admitted simply. She knew both Eastern Aeman and Western — the Heiland tongue — and was fully fluent in Somanan, even reasonably versed in Kelmantian. She knew several Heiland accents from various places. Had her wits been about her, she might have changed her voice, or at least thought of a better lie.
    They cannot learn who I am…
    The man laughed this time before translating for the others, and they followed suit.
    “Are you mad, girl, or do you have a wit?” The voice said, now with a more gentle mirth. “Often or no, you have traveled very far this day, it is plain to see, and for many days before. You are high blooded, and from the capital, or near there, but have not spent much time in a town since. The state of your poorly-fitting clothes, the hunger and thirst in your voice…. yes, you are lost, girl, but… with a purpose.”
    His body and his voice stopped as he reached a thick copse of trees four or five yards distant. She had never imagined a forest could be so thick with growth. Still she could not see him, but at least she knew where he was. She was still frightened, still angry, but she was emboldened.
    “I could hit you with an arrow from here,” she said, and straightened her shoulders.
    He laughed, translated for the others, and laughed some more along with them. She was beginning to think them all mad.
    “I don’t doubt it, were your bow already strung,” He chuckled.