Asunder: A Gathering of Chaos Cameron Hopkin (read a book txt) 📖

sighed inside. He did not know how to repair his relationship with the boy. It had never been good to begin with, and maiming his eye had complicated things in ways that he wasn’t sure he understood. Kest was attentive, concerned with his opinion, and far more obedient than he had been before. In fact, the boy behaved as Gamarron had wished he would from the start. He was a perfect tool. Except...

Except fear ran through the Beast Rider’s every movement now, a cringing subservience that destroyed the wild vitality that Gamarron had admired so much. It was hard to look at what he’d done to the boy, and so he kept their interactions to a minimum, giving only the necessary commands, never engaging Kest as a person. He could feel the boy’s confusion and hurt at being kept at arm’s length now that he was compliant, but neither of them spoke of it. Gamarron feared that in bending the boy to his will, he had broken what had been best in him.

It’s past time to address this. He put on a gentle smile as Kest sat next to Nira by the fire. “Were you able to catch enough frogs for the zephyrs?”

Kest was the only one that the temperamental beasts allowed to care for them, and he’d kept them fed by hunting small game. If he did not, Kest said, the evil-minded things were likely to attack them in the night. Most zephyr riders had to wear heavy leather and keep both dried meat and a cudgel at hand if they wanted to reach their destination; only the boy’s continued care kept them docile.

Nodding, Kest spoke to the dirt at his feet. “Plenty of frogs. They’re well-fed for now. I’d catch more for morning, but I don’t have any way to hide them, and the zephyrs would just eat them all here in another hour. Greedy things.” It was the most words he had said to Gamarron since they left the city. He sounded flat and distant.

“Thank you for caring for them,” Gamarron said softly. “Trekking across the wilderness isn’t what I had planned, and it would take five times longer if you hadn’t had the foresight to grab those zephyrs. It was well done.”

The boy shifted in his seat and shrugged uncomfortably. “It wasn’t foresight,” he muttered. “I just saw them and… it was the only option.”

“You couldn’t have managed the option of a couple of saddles while you were at it?” asked Nira with a crooked smile. “Some parts of me are a little less grateful for the ride than others.”

“Stop riding like a sack of tubers and you won’t need a saddle,” Kest replied with a hint of tartness.

Nira snorted and fed the fire another branch. Gamarron was gratified by the friendship he saw growing between them. There was damage in Nira he couldn’t quite see, and he hoped they might bring each other a measure of healing that would mitigate the evil he had wrought on the boy.

“Did you happen to look in on Guyrin?” he asked.

Kest nodded. “He’s fine, I think. Asleep as usual.” He looked into the underbrush, seeking after Renna. “How long since Mistress Renna gave him the medicine?”

“Only a few hours,” Gamarron replied reassuringly. The Weaver was responsible for their unwilling guest, much to her displeasure. She kept the volatile young man asleep by feeding him a tincture of her own make. They had to tie him to his zephyr and coax him to eat and defecate during a few minutes of woozy consciousness each day. Gamarron had great hopes for the chaos wielder, but given how violent and paranoid he’d been when they first met, keeping him drugged was the only possible solution in the short term.

“Okay, grandpa,” said Nira suddenly. Her tone was jovial, as it often was with him – she seemed to think him a kind and wise old gaffer – but her eyes were serious. “It’s been a nice ride in the predator-infested forest, but I want to know where we’re headed.”

“Of course,” said Gamarron, hiding his reluctance. He didn’t really know why he kept defaulting to secrecy with the others, but he did it again and again, even when he had no reason for it. I’m accustomed to doing things on my own. Explaining things feels like a waste of time. It was a terrible excuse, and he knew it, but the urgency and rage within him did not respond to logic. “We’re going to Far East.”

The girl’s eyes bulged. “I’m not exactly popular there. Assassins, remember? I don’t think the governor will be happy if we show up on his doorstep.” She rubbed at her arms, shivering. The women had told him the tale of their encounter with the governing council and their secret Naga ambassador. She had good reason to fear.

“The governor will never see us,” he assured her. “In truth, I misspoke: we are going past Far East, not into it.”

Renna came back bearing a lumpy sack, a bundle of sausages, and the large turtle shell they were using as a pot since Kest had caught its owner. She handed the bag to Gamarron wordlessly and tromped off with the shell toward the stream. Nira frowned after her as Gamarron reached into the sack and pulled forth a tuber. He found a sharp-edged stone near his feet and began to scrape off the manioc’s tough skin.

“There’s nothing past Far East,” Nira protested. “Not even little villages. Just jungle and Naga. You can’t take us out there.”

“That’s why he’s taking us out there,” Kest broke in, eyes on the flames. “He wants me to find the Naga’s hidden city.”

Nira looked to him, aghast, her mouth flapping wordlessly.

Gamarron held forth a hand in a placating gesture. “I know, and I am sorry. I’m certain you would rather avoid the creatures. So would I, if I could. I intend to leave everyone in our camp once we’re close and have Kest and myself do the