“I’ll try it,” Taren replied, “But in case someone sees me on that side of the wagon, I want to be ready to get out of here…has Ky’ara said anything about being done with the horses?”
“No.”
“Can you feel whether she is anxious still? If they’re almost done she may feel a little more calm…”
“No.”
Joran could practically feel his teacher’s impatience at the answers, even with the thick wood between them. Months of training together day in and day out had attuned him to the Keeper’s moods even more than Ky’ara’s…if only because she constantly blocked him out. They waited in tense silence for half a minute, and then Joran heard Taren walk around to the front of the carriage. He heard some scraping noises and a muttered curse…apparently Taren wasn’t very happy with the lock. This thought brought a quick smile to his face—at least this time Taren’s anger was not his fault…well, not entirely.
Moments later the door swung open and Joran blinked to reacquaint his eyes to the daylight. The carriage was so dark inside that even though he’d only been in it a short time, he felt a little disoriented by the sudden change. Taren held the door as the young Keeper slipped out and then carefully swung it closed again. They both snuck around the other side of the carriage and from there to the backside of the stables.
‘Joran?’ Ky’ara’s voice sounded inside his head and he jumped. He should have been expecting it, but his nerves were wound so tightly that the unexpected contact startled him.
‘We’re behind the stables,’ Joran responded, ‘Are the horses ready to go? We really need to get out of here before they discover I’m gone.’
‘We’re leading them out right now…meet us by the gate. We’ll have to hurry—that stablemaid just left and I can bet she won’t keep quiet when she finds the guards in whatever state Taren left them…’
Joran agreed silently, and then relayed the information to Taren. His teacher just shook his head and sighed exasperatedly. He didn’t have to say it—Joran knew he was frustrated that Ky’ara hadn’t done something to keep the stablemaid from returning so quickly. Taren was efficient. He would have knocked her out or locked her in a closet. But Ky’ara cared too much about people—she wouldn’t have wanted to hurt the girl, no matter how temporarily.
“You probably shouldn’t mention it,” Joran warned him drily as they rounded the corner and saw the others waiting for them.
“She needs to know that putting our mission at risk so one girl can avoid a headache is incredibly foolish,” Taren replied curtly.
He didn’t have a chance to reprimand her though. As soon as they came within a few yards of the horses, a piercing scream echoed from the courtyard. Taren mumbled something under his breath and motioned for the others to go, then pushed Joran toward the boy’s horse and leapt onto his own. They trotted out of the courtyard, then moved to a canter and then a gallop as shouts broke out behind them. Joran spared a quick glance behind and then nearly lost his seat as he had to veer right to follow Taren down an alleyway. Already a few of the guards had mounted to ride out after them.
There weren’t many people in the streets this time of day. The few that were quickly cleared the way when they saw horses—and even more quickly went indoors when they saw soldiers. No one wanted to get involved in anything to do with soldiers. They turned down another street and Joran heard the sound of crashing and cursing as some of the pursuers failed to make the tight corner. One of the soldiers made it through the chaos of injured and rearing horses. Joran saw his chance—if he could stop this one pursuer, by the time the others caught up it would be too late to see which way the fugitives had gone.
He slowed and turned his horse to the side as he reached into his boot for a knife—belatedly remembering that the soldiers had searched him and removed his weapons before tossing him in the prison-carriage. Changing tactics, Joran grabbed the short sword hanging from his saddle and kept turning till he faced his opponent directly. He noted the man’s expression of surprise with satisfaction. His first swing nicked the soldier on the arm as he rode by, but failed to unseat him as Joran had hoped. The man recovered more quickly than Joran expected, and as he yanked on the reins to continue circling, he caught a glimpse of one of the other soldiers. The man was standing where he had been thrown from his horse during the earlier fracas. He was holding a crossbow.
Before Joran could react, something slammed into him, forcing his horse sideways and throwing him low against its back. A bolt buzzed past—right where his head had been moments before.
“Go!” he heard Ky’ara shout at him. She was what had run into him, knocking him out of the way. Now she turned to face the injured soldier, disarming him easily and rapping him on the side of the head with the flat of her blade. Joran missed what happened next as he pushed his horse forward as she had directed. But as he galloped through the street after Taren and the others, he heard her utter a soft cry of pain, and a crossbow bolt whizzed past.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked.
‘I’m fine,’ she replied tersely, ‘it’s just a scratch. Keep going, I’m right behind you.’
They caught up to the others and passed the outer gates with little trouble—the soldiers who had come for Joran had likely been the same ones who had been stationed there. Small towns rarely had enough soldiers for law enforcement and guarding the wall.
The sounds of pursuit faded into the distance, but Taren didn’t stop until they were well under the cover of the trees and off the main road. When Ky’ara pulled her horse up next to his, she was startled by Taren’s expression—he looked furious.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, “I’m barely even scratched. If my normal rate of recovery holds then this’ll be healed by morning tomorrow.”
Taren just shook his head. “You shouldn’t be throwing yourself into danger like that! You’re too important to be risking your life in stupid little skirmishes.”
“Skirmish?” Joran said, “That wasn’t even a skirmish, more like a mild tussle.”
“Nonetheless she should NOT have been involved in it,” Taren replied, his anger simmering now that the moment was past. “What were YOU thinking? Turning back like that was a stupid thing to do.”
“Taren,” Ky’ara interjected before Joran could reply. “It wasn’t his fault. How could he have known I was going to stop for him?”
Taren looked between the two of them and sighed. “I think I’ve neglected training you properly in how to use your link…it just came so naturally to Arys and I, I’ve assumed that it would be the same for you…”
“What do you mean?” Ky’ara asked. “We’re linked so closely we can speak inside each other’s minds.”
Taren nodded. “I know. Your link is not the problem—you are.”
Joran burst out laughing as Ky’ara narrowed her eyes dangerously and Taren backtracked hastily.
“Perhaps I didn’t phrase that quite right.”
“Perhaps,” Ky’ara remarked drily.
“But,” Taren continued, “You have to admit that you close yourself off too much—you shouldn’t do that, particularly with Joran. Even if you’ve tried to compartmentalize your link and only block part of it—it is messing up the bond between you when you keep him out. Your Keeper is supposed to protect you. He is supposed to know what is going on with you emotionally so that he can use that to determine how best to keep you from harm.”
“I can keep myself from harm well enough,” Ky’ara interjected, but Taren continued as though she had not said anything.
“There is a reason the link works the way it does, and you blocking him completely undermines it. His first instinct should be to protect you, not himself.”
Joran looked ashamed at the implied rebuke. He should have waited till Ky’ara went first so that he was between her and the crossbow. That was one of the first things Taren had taught him—stay between your druid and the danger. If there is no immediate threat, then you can begin thinking about how to ident
ify and neutralize future risks—which was what he had been trying to do initially. Turning back wasn’t what was stupid. He was. If he had been using his head he would have remembered that his knives were gone, and would not have made the mistake of turning back. And if he’d had his knife it wouldn’t have been a mistake.
“This isn’t about us, is it?” Ky’ara was saying, “Deep down you are still irritated about Arys hiding things from you—you couldn’t read her emotions clearly that last little while before she sealed you, and now you’re upset because you think I’m treating Joran the same way.”
Taren’s mouth tightened and he turned away. Joran did not know how to respond.
* * * * *
Ky’ara regretted the words the instant they passed her lips. The pain she saw in Taren’s eyes the moment before he turned away had instantly erased any irritation she had at his overprotective impulses. She reached towards him, and then drew her hand back uncertainly. She didn’t know quite what to say.
A moment later they started riding again, Sukylar leading the way with Taren just behind. Lauryn dropped back to talk to Joran—their hushed conversation had the feel of an apology. So Ky’ara found herself stuck in the middle with nothing but her own thoughts for company.
She should not have said what she had, but on a certain level she felt like it was accurate. Much as Taren complained that she was closed off from people, he was even more so. As far as she knew, he had never spoken to anyone about his family or anything personal from his former life…other than when he had told her about Myrnai last year. Ky’ara was willing to bet that had a great deal to do with the woman who had been so close to him she had shared his very emotions and then banished him to the future with no warning and little explanation for her actions. To have lost every relationship he had, so suddenly…and particularly the one that mattered most. It must hurt him a great deal to have had the Link and then have it wiped away with such finality. It would be difficult for him to see her and Joran take their bond for granted.
She sighed and pulled forward to ride beside the Keeper. “I’m sorry, Taren,” she murmured. “I didn’t mean what I said.”
“Yes, you did,” Taren replied softly, “But you’re right—I don’t want Joran to have to go through being pushed away like I was. It’s the worst feeling in the world—to be shut out by the one person you are supposed to be there for.”
Ky’ara contemplated this, and then nodded. “I’ll make you a deal,” she proposed. “You tell me about your family and I’ll do my best to stop keeping all my emotions locked up inside.”
If he was surprised by her request he hid it well. His face still indifferent, Taren finally nodded his agreement. “There’s not much to tell,” he said. “I was the fifth of nine children. My younger brothers were all closer to each other in age and my nearest elder brother was almost four years my senior. My sisters were both older and already married by the time I left to become a Keeper trainee…I hadn’t seen any of them for years when Arys sealed me.”
“So you were always the odd one out,” Ky’ara said it as a statement, not a question.
Taren shrugged. “It’s easy to get lost in the chaos with that many kids…but we all spent so much time tending the sheep and feeding the pigs I hardly had time to feel isolated. I certainly wasn’t left out of the work.”
Ky’ara choked on the sip of water she’d just taken. “You were a sheep herder?” she asked incredulously, once she had recovered enough to speak.
“Shepherd,” he said mildly, “I believe the correct term is shepherd—though we had some pigs, a few chickens, and a cow too, so I suppose herdsman or even just farmer would be more accurate.”
Ky’ara’s lips twitched into a smile. His voice never changed tone, but she knew him well enough to know that underneath the serious manner he was teasing her.
“No wonder you don’t like to talk about it…” she murmured, giving him a sidelong look. She glimpsed his fleeting smile as one side of his mouth lifted ever so slightly in response to her banter.
“I find it easier to move forward if I just let go of it all,” Taren murmured, looking straight ahead. “I did love my family…my youngest brother had just entered Keeper training when Arys and I went back to Eléirathös that last time…I don’t know what happened to him when the city fell. I don’t know what happened to any of them…that is what makes it hardest, I think.”
Ky’ara nodded, she knew how he felt. She had wondered for years about her parents’ death—just the minor uncertainty about the origins of the fire that had killed them kept her awake some nights, speculating. How must it feel to not know anything?
“Have you—when we were in Doraicolé, did you try asking Myrnai?” she found herself saying, feeling slightly apprehensive about discussing her with him.
He nodded. “She didn’t know either—she said she tried to locate my family, but it was dangerous to make open inquiries about anyone connected to the druids…and she couldn’t leave her village for very long—something to do with the spell Arys concocted for her to extend her life.”
Ky’ara nodded sadly. She did not know how Arys had discovered the technique or everything that had been required for Myrnai to extend her own life, but she was beginning to see more of the picture—and it was evident that Myrnai had only accomplished the feat at great personal sacrifice.
“So you could have living relatives, but you have no way of knowing…What about Sukylar’s family?”
“What do you mean?” Taren asked.
“Sukylar’s family was connected to the druids…they told me that’s how they came to be in possession of the crystal…he may know something.”
“Ky’ara.” Taren stopped and turned to face her. “That would’ve been over twenty generations ago…there is no way he knows anything, and even if he did…I could have hundreds of relatives alive today, or I could have none. It doesn’t matter anymore. They don’t matter to me. My family from before…they did matter, but they are gone. Arys mattered, but she is gone too. Myrnai mattered, but…she’s no longer who she was.”
“You said something similar last year,” Ky’ara insisted, “But Myrnai was still around…maybe information about your family is too. You don’t need to be so negative about it until you’ve tried…”
She trailed off as he shook his head, the corner of his mouth pulled up into an ironic smile. “You just don’t get it,” he murmured, moving his horse closer and reaching across to brush the hair out of her eyes. “They don’t matter. You are what matters. Completing the task Arys sent me here for…that matters. Maybe once that’s done we can waste energy looking into it…but even then, it won’t matter what we find—my family now is you.”
Ky’ara felt warmth spread down to her fingertips. He was so reserved most of the time…but when he did express his feelings, well, he certainly knew how to make a girl feel special. She nodded once and then held his gaze for a moment.
“Are you sure she should unBlock me from her emotions?” Joran’s voice interrupted the moment. “Cuz seriously, I can hardly stand just watching the way you two carry on, let alone if I had to feel it…I think I’d throw up.”
Ky’ara laughed and shook her head as Taren rolled his eyes. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy inside to hear Taren talk about her as his family. Maybe someday when this was all over…she let herself entertain the fantasy for only a moment, and then brought her mind back to the present. They were in no position to think about starting a family right now—particularly since she was apparently an official fugitive. Her stomach growled, reminding her that she had not eaten yet and that they had never restocked their supplies. She was fairly certain all she had in her pack was a bag of stale crackers. Her good mood vanished. Being a fugitive was wretched.
Chapter 12: Encounters
They rode till just after midday, eventually happening upon a clearing close to a little brook. Sukylar was looking somewhat haggard, so they decided it would be best to make camp and try to plan thei
r next course of action. While Joran and Sukylar went down to the riverbank to see about catching some fish for dinner, Lauryn pulled out the old map and she and Ky’ara showed Taren what they had discovered.
“It really is much closer to what I remember,” Taren commented, touching the old parchment almost reverently. Lauryn had rolled it out on a waist high rock conveniently located near the edge of the clearing, weighting it with stones to keep the breeze from pilfering it.
“I thought it might be,” Ky’ara said excitedly. “I have very little to go on, but if you can point out the general area near where Eléirathös was, maybe I can find the lake Nisse showed me, and we can work backwards from there.”
Taren nodded and perused the map for a long moment. “If my memory serves me correctly, it was right around there.” he said, indicating a spot somewhat east and north of where Lauryn had approximated their present location. Ky’ara looked at the spot and compared it against her own map. She frowned and looked around for a moment, then went to the edge of the clearing and paced out the distance from the trail to the stream.
“What?” Taren asked, giving her a funny look. Ky’ara shook her head and sat down with a sigh. “I don’t know why I’m still surprised. This is yet another way the government is withholding information…at least I assume the government is responsible, since my map is an official map of the realm.”
Taren raised an eyebrow and turned to look at the line she’d measured out. “I hardly think an inaccuracy in the distance from a minor trail to a river was in any way intentional—is that trail even on your map?”
Ky’ara shook her head. “Not that distance in particular—that trail isn’t on my map, nor is the stream as far as I can tell. But on the map the closest body of water for this stream to connect to is much too far away. The distance from the town we just left to the river this stream must adjoin…it just seems illogical that this stream would be as steady as it is, and running in this direction, if the river is actually where my map puts it. I was really checking the length to determine the accuracy of my sense of distance in general. While we’ve been travelling I’ve occasionally thought that my map just seems a bit off. I assumed it was just accidental—maps are bound to have some inaccuracies…but when I have this older map to compare it with, I think it was deliberate. When you ignore the development of the cities and just look at the land itself, the older map seems more accurate than the one I brought from the capital…Tell me I’m not paranoid. Which more accurately represents the land we’ve covered in the last month?”
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