CHAPTER 7
When I woke up in the morning, Nick was gone. Sunlight streamed through the window, and the birds were declaring many proclamations with much enthusiasm.
I threw off my blanket and moved over to check on Natanian. Great-Aunt Isabel entered through the kitchen with a bowl of steaming water and a roll of fresh bandages.
Natanian stirred and opened his eyes. “Do you like watching me sleep?” he mumbled. His voice was dry.
I started to defend myself. Then I said, “Did you know you bark in your sleep? You also started to grow furry ears, I think.”
“Shut up.” He glared at me. I grinned.
Aunt Isabel knelt down in front of him, “How do you feel?”
“Weak, dizzy, a little ... ruff around the edges.” He shot me a smirk.
I winced, “Oh, that one was bad.”
“What?” Aunt Isabel glanced between us.
I grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”
“It’s going to take you a few days to get back the blood you lost,” she warned.
Natanian pushed back the blanket to see the bandages, “How bad is it?”
She shrugged, “I’ve seen worse.”
“How have you seen worse?” I demanded.
“I work in the emergency room, Jack.”
“Oh.”
Isabel sat back. “I’m going to replace the bandages. Jack, there’s a new set of clothes on the kitchen table for you.”
“But I—” I glanced down at my Áccyn uniform, the mottled green tunic dirty and torn. She had a point. I went into the kitchen. There was a brand-new pair of jeans, a tee shirt, and a sweatshirt folded on the kitchen table, still with their tags attached.
I emerged from the bathroom, tugging the sweatshirt down over my belt. The jeans were a size too big, but anything would blend in better around here than my medieval, battle-worn tunic.
I saw a shadow shift out of the corner of my eye. I crossed back into the kitchen and pushed open the patio door. Nick was leaning against the railing, looking out through the forest. He’d cleaned up, at least. And he was wearing a new pair of jeans that Isabel had bought for him sometime this morning. His fit.
“Fine weather we’re having, sir,” I said by way of greeting. “I see my aunt figured your size better than mine.” I tugged on my baggy jeans.
He shrugged, “I guess she likes me better.”
“She gonna adopt you?”
“Maybe.”
I leaned on the railing beside him. “What are you doing out here?”
“Just ... went for a walk.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. You went for a w—”
“How does it feel?” he interrupted.
“–walk,” I finished. “Huh?”
“Knowing they’re out there?”
“Who, the interrupter gang?”
“Sorry to remind you.” He patted me on the back. An electric shock jumped from his hand.
“Dude!” I flinched.
“Oops.” He grinned.
“Every time.” I shook my numb arm.
“Do you think...” He gestured out to the trees. “Do you think they know where we are?”
“How could they?” I gripped the porch railing, wondering if they could.
Isabel led Natanian through the screen door and gently sat him on the porch chair. She patted my shoulder. “Don’t let him bleed out, okay?” She walked back into the house.
“Yeah. Right.” I looked down at Natanian, his blond hair sticking every-which-way.
“Wow, it’s a bit tense out here,” he said, catching the curt tone in my voice.
I cleared my throat, watching as a chipmunk sprinted across the ground and dove under a rotting log.
Natanian looked from me to Nick, waiting for an explanation.
“How did they know who I was?” I finally blurted out. “What do they even want with me?” Wind whistled through the trees.
“Maybe that’s why,” Bancroft answered, climbing up the steps onto the porch. “You’re strong. Your power is strong.”
I took a deep breath, trying to calm the twisting cold inside me. “Yeah, I can’t control it.”
“You will.” He stopped next to me and pointed at my chest. “Your power is the strongest I’ve ever seen this close to its Manifestation. From what Nick told me, what you did in the courtyard shouldn’t have been possible. You shouldn’t have been able to knock anyone off their feet, least of all hurl a Hunter that far into the wall. That kind of force takes years of training to accomplish. At the Manifestation, your power is always just strong enough to be a nuisance, to do ... that.” He gestured to the swaying branches around us.
“Well, maybe it’s because Kane...” I trailed off, the painful, violent memory threatening to burst to the surface.
Bancroft sighed. “No, I’ve seen that too: a newly-manifested Rangerian acting under trauma. That wasn’t it.” He looked me right in the eyes. “Your Master is gone. You have no choice but to learn control if you want a chance at getting away from whoever these Ealdra Hunters are.”
I glanced at Nick. He nodded.
“Will you help me?” I asked his Master.
Bancroft held out his arm, “I swear to stand by you, to defend you, to train you by sword and power until you are Master.”
I closed my hand around the armor on Bancroft’s forearm and looked up into his eyes. “I swear to stand by you, to obey and respect you, to give my strength to...” I cleared my throat and laughed. “...whatever court we end up in, to the defenseless, and to fight through my weakness.”
CHAPTER 8
Bancroft paced around me, his boots crunching on the forest floor. His graying hair was pulled back in a short ponytail to keep it from being blown by my wind. The sun was bright today, streaming through the trees above. Up on the porch, Nick leaned against the railing, watching. Natanian sat back against a log a few feet away. I could smell Aunt Isabel’s breakfast cooking inside the house.
“A Rangerian’s powers are harder to control the stronger his emotions are,” Bancroft explained. “Whenever you are angry, afraid, nervous, or even excited, they will surface with or without your will. Unless you know how to control them. You are True Born. The stronger your power is, the more difficult it is to harness, and the longer it takes for you to master it. So…” He stopped and turned to face me, raising his long sword. “How far are you willing to go to stay alive?”
I yawned. “Do I have to answer that now? Too philosophical for this early in the morning.”
“Wrong answer. How far are you willing to go to stay alive?”
“Is this a test?”
“The answer’s forty-two,” Natanian whispered.
“Wow, thanks,” I called back.
“You need to know your limits, Jackson.” Bancroft took a step toward me. “The Hunters came for you. The Ealdra broke our peace. They captured Fort Calmier.” He lowered his sword and sighed. “I believe this was all done from the inside.”
That got my attention. It felt like someone had punched me in the gut.
“Whoa.” Natanian sat back.
Nick straightened. “You mean … the spy.”
“What?” I looked between Nick and Master Bancroft. “There’s a spy? You tell us this now?”
Bancroft nodded.
“And you knew about this?” I pointed an accusing sword at Nick.
Bancroft rested the tip of his blade on the ground. “Three weeks ago, a group of soldiers went missing the very night they left on a mission. The only ones who knew they’d left were inside Fort Calmier. Two weeks before that, there was an attempt on King Rehynall’s life. In the middle of the day. The only way the assassin could have gotten in was through help from the inside. One of the court.” He eyed me.
I swallowed. “You don’t think it was me?”
I saw a flicker of trepidation in Natanian’s eyes. “That’s crazy,” he said weakly.
“No, you aren’t the spy.” Nick shook his head. “If K
ing Rehynall suspected you, do you think he would have stood up there with you during your Manifestation? When your power was most chaotic? Any strike could easily have been passed off as an accident.”
My heart pounded in a cascade of shock. “Thought about this much, Nick?”
Nick shrugged, “It happened before. With King Balhuntingdon.”
My heart jumped another beat.
“No one except the council knew about this,” Bancroft said. “The king didn’t want to raise tension. Announcing the presence of a spy would only turn the court against itself.”
“So … what exactly does this have to do with me?”
“It can be no coincidence that the Hunters infiltrated Fort Calmier and the Ealdra launched an attack on the very night of your Manifestation ceremony.”
A cold chill ran down my spine. I hadn’t thought of that. Of course. Everyone in the castle knew where I was at that moment. Any one of them could have tipped off the Ealdra. I might have to fight against one of my own court … one of my own friends. The Hunters had teamed up with the Ealdra, and one of our Áccyn soldiers had let them in.
Nick’s thunder rumbled overhead as we all realized the implications of this betrayal. I wasn’t just escaping from the Hunters. I was fleeing an entire family of Robin Hood’s descendants.
“Breathe, Jackson,” Bancroft murmured.
I exhaled. A cold chill was whistling through the trees, and my deep breath didn’t do anything to calm it down.
“If anyone saw us leave, saw the direction we took, and knows you,” Natanian said nervously, “we might not be safe.”
“So.” Bancroft regained my attention. “How far are you willing to go to stay alive?”
I took another deep breath. The truth was, I had no idea. Was I going to be able to fight someone from Fort Calmier? Possibly one of my own friends?
He lifted his sword from the ground and leveled the blade at me. “Controlling your power will not be easy. It takes work. Lots of work. And you do not have much time.”
“I got it,” I muttered. “Let’s go. Let’s get started. How tough can it be?” My hands had gone cold. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to be running for my life from those people. If the spy did know where I had gone, I didn’t want to put Aunt Isabel in danger.
Most of all, I didn’t want to have to face a friend who wanted me dead.
CHAPTER 9
“Focus!” Bancroft shouted, and the flat of his sword hit my shoulder again. I clenched my teeth, drawing my thoughts away from the pain.
“Well, maybe if you stop hitting me,” I muttered.
“What?” He stared at me from under his thick, graying eyebrows.
“I’m trying.” My cold wind began to die down again.
“Need some help?” Nick asked. He flicked his wrist, and a bolt of lightning shot toward me.
I jumped out of the way. “Not you too!” Bancroft’s blade hit the side of my leg. “Guys!” I closed my hands into fists, forcing the twisting power into my control. Bancroft swung, knocking my legs out from under me. I fell flat on my back, and a blast of cold wind burst away from me. Aunt Isabel caught her can of soda on the porch railing before it hit the ground.
Bancroft chided, “Try harder.”
I gasped, air rushing back into my lungs. The branches rustled off to my right. The hair rose on the back of my neck. That reaction was too far away to have come from my wind. I pushed myself to my feet and stared through the trees into the shadows. I gulped.
“What is it?” Natanian froze at his post on the porch.
“Hey, Master Bancroft,” I warned. “There’s someone there.” I unsheathed my sword. Natanian dropped a stick he’d been fiddling with and did the same. Nick came slowly down the steps, watching.
I saw a shift in the shadows, a faint dark form of a girl. Then a glint of steel appeared in the gloom, and I heard the familiar hum. Nick and I dove back. An arrow slammed into the porch, the black shaft sinking three inches deep in the wood. The arrow stood, quivering. I whipped around, but the archer was gone.
Nick took off through the trees.
“Nicolas!” Bancroft shouted.
I glanced at Natanian. His face paled. He shook his head and rocked back. “Not doing that.” He was in no shape to retaliate.
I ran after Nick, weaving through trees and leaping over fallen logs as Bancroft yelled something unintelligible. I slashed through a tangle of brush with my sword and caught a glimpse of the archer’s slim, female build and black cloak through the trees, far ahead of us. I slid to a stop beside Nick at the edge of the woods, panting. The Dark Archer had vanished into the shadows.
We found ourselves on the edge of a highway. Cars roared past, kicking up puffs of dust. Nick cursed and slammed his hand against a tree. Lightning arced up the bark. He jerked back, rubbing his hand on his jacket.
“How did she find us?” I shoved my blade back in its sheath, the worst possibility running through my mind. The spy.
“We should leave,” was all Nick said.
“Jackson!” Bancroft shouted through the trees. “Nicolas!” He emerged from the woods and slowed to a stop. “Whoever it was wasn’t here to kill us.”
“Sorry, Master.” Nick turned around.
“Sorry….” I echoed.
“I don’t think it was a Hunter.” Bancroft held out a folded note to me. “This was on the arrow shaft.” I took the letter. My name was printed across the front in sharp black letters. Nick moved closer as I tore it open. The letter was written in different handwriting:
WEST WIND HAS BEEN SECURED.
WE FOUND NORTH.
It was signed with a pair of crossed daggers.
“The Hunters,” Nick whispered and grabbed the letter, flipping it over, “This is dated a week ago.” He looked up at me.
My stomach dropped. This confirmed it. They were hunting me for my power. And I was the only one left. Something they had found ... they would need the four Winds to secure it.
What would they do when they were done? They wouldn’t need me anymore.
This was going to end with me dead, if I was caught.
“We should leave,” Nick repeated, glancing back up at the highway. “Now.”
* * *
Frost curled beneath my feet as I sprinted through the forest, ice-cold North Wind trailing behind me. Fear knotted my stomach. This was it. They had no one else to get. The entire troop of Hunters was looking for me.
Bancroft threw the back door open, making Aunt Isabel jump. Nick and I followed him inside.
Natanian came around the corner. The color had returned to his face, but he was still moving slowly. “What’s all the excitement about?” He looked worried.
“If this archer found us, the Hunters won’t be far behind,” Bancroft said. “We’re leaving.”
“An archer...” Natanian mumbled.
Aunt Isabel dropped the tray of tea on the counter and started grabbing food for us from the cabinet.
Natanian moved forward. “Right now?”
“Now.” Bancroft picked up Natanian’s sword belt leaning against the wall and handed it to him, then left to help Isabel.
Natanian’s hands shook. I stepped forward, grabbed the scabbard from him, and strapped it around his waist. He winced at the sudden stab of pain.
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Get the Perytons,” Bancroft ordered. Nick nodded and left to round them up. I followed Natanian out the door and down the stairs to the forest floor. Bancroft and Aunt Isabel stepped out the door behind us. Nick appeared a moment later, leading the two Perytons. Natanian struggled up on Perry. I climbed up in front of him.
Aunt Isabel gave Natanian a large bag. “There’s food, water, and your dressings for a week.”
“Be careful,” Bancroft told her, settling down on his mount, Nick swinging up behind him. “If the signs are true, the Hunters or Ealdra will be here by tomorrow night.”
Isabel stepped
back. “Don’t worry. I will.”
“Where to?” I asked the others, my fingers tightening on Perry’s antlers. His wings shifted beneath me.
“We’ll figure it out on the way,” Bancroft answered.
“Jack,” Aunt Isabel took a satchel from her shoulder and held it up to me. “This was your grandfather’s. I thought you might like to have it.
My fingers closed around the leather strap. My great-grandpa’s name, Rowan Tyler, was embroidered in the lining. I traced the letters. “Thank you.” I looked at her tenderly. She squeezed my hand one last time.
I swung the satchel over my shoulder, wheeled Perry around, and launched into the afternoon sky.
CHAPTER 10
Isabel Tyler stood at the window, her hand bunched up around the curtain. The Master had been right. Two nights later, and they were here. She could see shapes outside her house, drifting through the forest trees. The curtain swung shut. She crossed into the kitchen, the sound of her feet on the wood echoing through the quiet house.
She pulled her pot of soup off the stove and reached behind the oven for a short steel sword. A loud knock came at the door. She jumped, spinning around. She breathed out, brushed the loose strands of hair from her face, and slid the blade inside her robe. If it came to violence, there it would end. For better or for worse. Her father had taught her how to wield this sword. She would not betray her nephew. She would never be too old to defend her family.
She tightened her robe and crossed to the door. Her fingers rested a moment on the cold metal of the lock, then she turned it with a click, and pushed the door open.
A tall, scruffy man, dressed in fraying clothes and leather armor, stood on her doorstep. The porch light cast dark shadows across his face. He put a large hand on the door frame and thrust a foot forward, flashing the hilt of his long sword.
“Hello, m’lady.” He gave Isabel a short bow. “May we come in? It’s awful windy out ’ere.” He took a step forward. She subtly shifted, blocking his path. He frowned, his knuckles tightening on his sword hilt. “Soup smells good,” he said, unamused.
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