“Not strange at all,” I say slowly, suddenly realizing where I’ve seen her armband before. “The drawings inLegends of the Dawnby Octorran Gillam. Your golden armband is no mere piece of jewelry.”
Chitai backs away from the fire, blades again in her hands. She pins me with a fierce gaze. “Yes, it is. When I wear it on my right arm.”
I say nothing but pointedly stare at the stylized gold band reflecting the firelight.
On herleftbiceps.
“And on your left arm, uncovered?” I challenge her to say it.
And if she won’t? I will.
She studies me, then throws back her head and laughs. “Yes, Soli. On my left arm, uncovered, it means I’m going to war.”
Elianna gasps. “No. It’s not possible. They’ve been dead and gone for over eighty years.”
Trick is staring back and forth between us, like he’s watching children playing at stickball in the street. “What? What’s not possible? Who’s gone? How about filling in those of us who don’t read obscure texts all day long?”
“Tell them,” Chitai demands, her obsidian gaze on my face.
So, I do.
“Chitai is a warrior of the Dawn. And if that armband were a declaration of war againstus, we’d all be dead.”
The warrior tribes of the Dawn, the elite fighting forces of the Desert of Sharnon, guard their history and prophecies with steel and blood. Thus, much of what we think we know about them is merely hearsay, rumor, or myth. However, the histories of the Valourian kingdom tell how the Dawn’s ferocity helped save the capital city when all hope was nearly lost on three separate occurrences during the past hundred years. This is said to be the origin of the saying: It’s always darkest before the Dawn.
—Legends of the Dawn, Octorran Gillam
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“Not true,” Andras snarls.
“Definitely not,” Kaelen growls, but he not-so-subtly moves to stand between Chitai and me.
Chitai smirks at them. “If I’d wanted you dead, you’d never have seen me coming.”
“How?” I stare at her, wondering how I didn’t recognize the armband before. True, I’ve had a lot on my mind, but the design is so distinctive. “How are you real?”
“The Dawn?” Neville backs away, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “Begging your pardon, Lady Soli, but that’s not possible. The Zhagarn and Fell wiped out the tribes of the Dawn more than half a century ago.”
Trick suddenly starts laughing. “Oh, come on. The Dawn aren’t real. They’re just the bogeys people scare their children with. ‘Go to bed now, or the Dawn will get you.’”
“We never stole children,” Chitai says, her voice deadly. “Watch your words, thief. I’m no Sylvan, to get tangled up in slights to my personal honor, but I won’t stand for lies about my tribe.”
“Which tribe?” I try to remember reading any tribe names, but no. None were named in anything I read. “Gillam said—”
“Gillam was a fool. My mother’s mother allowed him to travel with our clan for a moon’s time and told him whatever nonsense she felt like making up. If he told stories about us, they’re filled withfoolishness and lies.”
“But the armband is exactly like his drawing,” I point out, nudging Kaelen aside. “Maybe he picked up more than your grandmother realized, just from observation.”
She shrugs. “Perhaps. Does it matter?”
“But how—”
“Enough. I don’t feel like answering questions tonight, and we’ve heard enough from Andras Al’Sylvan. I may tell you more on the journey. Leave it at this: I have cause to help rescue the goddess. The Burning River grows fouler every year, and the Degradation is spreading into the Desert of Sharnon, our home. Even the Oasis of Aurora will be threatened within the decade at this rate, and it’s the source of much of our healing plant life.”
“Why were you in Pallanhold?” Kaelen demands.
She cuts her gaze to Elianna. “We, too, had heard of the sorcerer determined to rescue Artemisen. Your secrets are not kept well, riverlanders.”
