“Teach me how,” Cam murmured.
“You do not have the attention span to learn.” Cam scoffed. “Says the person who can not focus more
than a moment on reading.”
He laughed. “Do you mean that Love’s Beckoning trash
Joel lent you?” Peter shook his head and placed his fingers over
the several small holes carved into the pipe. Cam perched her
chin on his shoulder as he brought the pipe to his lips. As the
notes trilled from the end of the instrument, Cam gazed off at the
mountains. Light snow was drifting to the frosty ground. Cam knew the tune Peter was playing, and she began
uttering the words in a low, singing voice. The song they had both
heard as young children. The song carried on for several
moments as Peter played the notes slowly. When the last note
had fallen from the end of the pipe, Cam slid a small smile in his
direction.
Peter leaned forward and pressed his lips softly to the
shell of her ear. He skimmed down the line of her jaw to her
throat. Cam loosed a soft sigh and leaned closer into his warmth.
Her fingers caught the tips of his hair, and she pulled him closer
so her lips could brush his.
He smiled in a way that nearly melted her and had her
smiling helplessly in return. She grasped the front of his shirt
and jerked him toward her until his warm mouth melted over hers. Peter made a small noise of surprise in the back of his
throat.
When he was in desperate need for breath, Peter drew
back enough to hold her gaze. He rested his brow against hers
and traced a thumb along her cheek. Cam smoothed his rumpled
hair and tousled shirt. She released a happy sigh against his
mouth. "What would I do without you?"
"You would probably make some supremely stupid
decision and get yourself killed."
"Or I would save the world without a young, handsome
man to distract me."
"Oh?" Peter quirked a brow. "Is that what I am? A
distraction?"
“A handsome one,” she said with a chuckle. Cam
continued in a more serious tone when he pressed his lips to her
brow. "If I did not have you, I would not know how happy I could
be. I think that’s how it works sometimes. You do not know how
happy you could be with someone until your lives collide." Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Did you get that from Joel’s
book?” Cam jabbedhim in theribs. Peter laughed. "Do you think
Elyon brought us together?" Peter mused.
Cam leaned her head against his shoulder, reflecting. "I
don’t know. Is Elyon one who makes everything happen, or does
He let us choose?”
“Well…” Peter started. “I believe He has the power to do
both, but I think to love something you’ve created means to give
it free will and let them choose if they would love you in return.
I wouldn’t want to make anyone love me.”
Cam nodded, her feet swinging idly from the edge of the
wall.
Peter continued. “I like to believe that no one was made
for me, but that I was made for someone else. If you live with that
mentality, you are more likely to serve and love that someone
better than you would have to believe they were made for you." Cam tilted her head, her hand brushing the back of his
neck. "You sound like my father."
"Who do you suppose I learned it from?"
Cam's lips tugged into a small smile. “When did you
know?”
“Know what?” But Peter knew exactly what she meant.
With a happy sigh, he leaned against Cam, his head upon her
shoulder this time. “I knew when I saw you lying in that cell with
your head bit open and the poison in your system. I knew when
I fought Owen for the remaining Medulla. I knew then that I
would never meet someone who would fight for me as hard as
you have done for your sisters...and our people.” He brushed his
thumb over her knuckles. “I just hate how it took you becoming
so hurt for me to realize it.”
“That is how it often happens with Elyon,” Cam mused.
“I only found Him when I was hurt.”
“I clung to Him because it was the only way to not feel
hurt every second ofmy life,” Peter started before hepaused and
slipped his gaze back to Cam. “When did you know?” Cam snorted. “Last night.” Peter’s laughter rumbled past
her ear as he kissed her neck again. She enclosed his hand
between both of hers. “But I have known you to be a true friend
for quite a long time. And that has always been more important
to me.”
Peter bent to kiss her again, but just before his lips could
skim hers, Cam shoved him away slightly. “Peter...look…” He
turned to see where her now widened eyes were focused. The
plain between the wall and the mountains stretched, seemingly
empty. That is until… Peter peered closer. The ground was
moving, wavering with ripples of gray. Cam was grasping at his
arm.
A horn blared. A long, shrill note. An awakening. Cam
coiled into Peter as he shuddered. A low rattling sounded across
the plain as if the very ground was trembling with it. At first,
neither Cam nor Peter could determine the source of the rattling.
Figures, the whispers of shadows, were appearing from the
mountain passes and bleeding onto the plain.
They had appeared from nowhere as if they had been
hidden invisibly in the air and had only just now revealed
themselves. At first, Cam only saw a few, but as her eyes scanned the vicinity she saw that the three passes which poured into the
field were packed.
When had they arrived? They were silent. And stone-still
as they paused in the plain. Midway to the wall. A single figure
stood before them undoubtedly scanning the rising stone before
them. And not at all what one would expect in an army. They
were covered from head to foot in tarnished brown rags patched
with spots of red and orange.
They bore sharp, crooked swords Cam had only seen in
books. She discovered the source of the rattling. Strings of
various bones swung from their weaponry and cloaks. The
swords were distinctive to the clans of the south. Desert
barbarians in a snowy, mountainous world. But they were not
simply barbarians, as Cam realized when she drew in a sharp
breath.
“WemusttellElizabeth,” shesaidurgentlyas shegrasped
at Peter’s arm.
Peter swallowed hard. “So, they’ve comefor theCrown at
last.”
The court was in a frenzy, but Elizabeth seemed surprisingly
calm when she ordered the captain of the guard and the head general to gather the troops. “Gather all who are capable of fighting!” she shouted as the general swept from the throne room. “Do notchargeat them.Remain calm and organized at the wall. Prepare to receive them.”
Rational, Cam knew, not to engage these people in battle right off. “I know we do not know their intentions, but what in the hell are they doing here?” Fiera was asking this aloud, but no one was answering. No one knew the answer.
Elizabethturnedto CamandPeter. “Choosesomeofyour company to protect the Crown at its location. Place Immanuel there as
well…”
“It would be in the best interest of the nation at large to hide the people away rather than sendingthetroopsout!” Avoice called over the commotion that had erupted in the throne room. Elizabeth whirled with curious eyes to behold the dark figure approaching. Ilea’s voice was firm and set with resolve. “I have seen them before. The wraiths, that is. They are already dead. Our weaponry will not defeat them. Only he who allowed them to roam this realm can send them back…”
“Back where?” a voice pressed. Cam saw that Caleb was indeed among the crowd.
“Back where they do not wish to go. Which is why they are here. At Lucius’ bidding. To break a bond of some sort that they’ve had with him for centuries…”
“Why have I never heard ofthis before?” Fiera calledout. Cam agreed. In all of their grandfather’s ramblings, she had never heard of such a thing.
“You’ve heard of the Vanishing of the Kings?” Ilea asked, her gazepinnedon Fiera.Fiera’s eyes narrowedinconfusion, but Cam knew precisely what Ilea was speaking of. The Vanishing of the Kings at the end of the First Age when the seven kings of the Between Realm simply disappeared. And never returned, seduced by some unknown power.
But if that power was the same that had brought these desert wraiths into this world then…
What appeared to be the largest figure in the ever growing number of people crowded into the throne room barrelled his way towards the queen. The general, Cam surmised.
“My queen,” he began, “The wraiths remain on the plain, but it appears as though those who approach the wall are clansmen. Human.”
“Messengers, then,” Elizabeth said. “Go speak with them, if they will it. And take a translator with you.”
The general was presently gone from the room along with a good number of others who had dispersed at Elizabeth’s bidding. Simeon was now stepping forward to speak to his queen directly. “My advice, Your Majesty, would be to do as Ilea has suggested. Hide them away. Let them besiege us if need be.”
“We can fight those in the villages until we can get the people hidden away,” Fiera said.
“In the mountain,” Elizabeth announced after a long moment of reflection. “We will hide them away in the mountain pass. For now. The castle hasn’t enough room for our people despite the fact that it would indeed be difficult to breach.” she nodded towards Simeon. “Please inform the general and the captain of this plan.”
Simeon bowed before departing from the room. “My guests from Mirabelle,” the queen said at last, turning to the remaining few in the room. Cam had stood still between Fiera and Peter, not knowing where to put herself to use. “Choose among yourselves who will battle in the villages and who will lead my people as well as yours to the mountain. You will be shown the way.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Cole replied for them.
All eyes turned towards this last speaker. “You know all of us,” Cam said. “You appoint us.”
“I will not send my own daughter out there,” he said, shaking his head.
“You sent me with the Seekers. What happened when I was away from Mirabelle was worse than what can occur now,” Cam replied as she drew close to her father. “I will decide for myself then.”
Slowly, Cole nodded. He planted a kiss on his daughter’s brow before turning to Peter. “You will go into the mountain, young man, despite any protestations you may have.” Peter’s mouth was indeed already open in protestation, but Cole took one look at his leg and how Peter was leaning on a new cane to state his reasoning enough. Peter set his jaw, his teeth gritting together. But Cole was right.
Cam glanced at the others, noting who wore faces of determination and who either shrank from the circle of Spirit Followers or appeared neutral and calm. Lia, Saffira, Fiera, Joel, and a handful of others would join the general’s ranks. Amelia, Adria, Ilea, Caleb, and Cole would lead the people into the mountain. “We should bequest Elyon before we go,” Cole said softly. Cam stood with Fiera to her right and Peter to her left. When the words had passed into silence, they remained to hold hands while Cole began murmuring the song he had sung to Cam and Peter.
Cam found she wasn’t the only one murmuring the song. Everyone knew it. Even Joel. Even Ilea. So this was a song of the Spirit Followers that had existed for a long time. Her heart, which had been thundering since she and Peter had first glimpsed the barbarians in the villages below, now thrummed with warmth. Like a bird rustling its wings and taking flight. Her nerves were still set on edge, but as her friends and family uttered that song, she was robed in warmth that led to a calming sort of peace. A peace that held promise.
But still, questions swirled in her head. “Who are they exactly and why are they here? What do they want?” She glanced at Peter and knew he was wondering the same thing. “Clever, Lucius, clever,” was all she could conclude. Their enemy was a prince with more than one army at his dispense. The song had faded, and Peter was standing stone still. Cam drew close to him, taking his face in both of her hands. She looked into his wavering eyes, saw the anger brimming there. “I want to fight if it should come to that.”
Cam shook her head. They both knew the reason. Peter squeezed his eyes shut against angry tears. “It should have healed by now…”
“Ormaybe itis a woundto stay withyouforalong time. Maybe forever.” Cam did not utter these words aloud. She only drew his lips to hers. A brief kiss. Not goodbye. Not yet.
Cam watched as the various soldiers of Nazeria began to fill the
outer courtyards of the castle. Every one of them was filled, captains milling among them, instructions shouted. Cam didn’t pay much attention.
She was looking for Fiera and Adria. She found Fiera before a small but long window which overlooked the entirety of thekingdom. “Where’s Adria?” Cam askedin anattemptto catch her breath.
“With thehealers ofNazeria,I think,”Fierarepliedasshe pulled a strap to tighten the belt holding a row of daggers at her hips. With a twist of her wrist, Fiera had her mass of onyx hair in its loosebraid on top ofher head. “They will prepare beds and such necessary if and when the time comes…”
“And you?” Cam asked as her sister trailed off. Fiera looked at her, no words needed to state her intent. Fiera laid a hand on Cam’s arm. “Tell Caleb I said I forgive him. For everything. And that I hope he can forgive me for treating him so badly when I met him.” Fiera smiled at her last remark, but her eyes were shadowed.
Cam opened her mouth to protest, but Fiera was already walking briskly away. “Tell him yourself when you come back!” she yelled after her. But Fiera did not turn, did not acknowledge that she had heard anything. “Fine,” Cam muttered. She found the chest of armor, discovering that most of what they had brought from Mirabelle had once belonged in Cinis Lumen. “So armor I’m familiar with,” she thought.
Even with the row of daggers on her hip and the two swords fastened to her back, Cam tied her slingshot to her right hip with a sack of sharp stones. The weight of the stones felt familiar. And somewhat relieving. Grab. Twist. Throw. That was the technique she was used to. The sword was heavier than the slingshot and stone. The latter was more comfortable. These words Cam said to herself in reassurance that she could do this. If she had to.
Cam ventured quickly into the main hall of the castle where she found among the deep purple banners hanging from the high reaching ceilings, that Fiera wasn’t the only one she knew that intended to be stationed at the wall. Saffira and Lia were beside the general himself, geared in their own assorted preference of weaponry.
And Joel...he too was clad in tight-fitting clothing underneath slim armor. He held a spear in his right hand and had daggers strapped across his waist and chest. And yet, his face bore a sharpness none of his blades could match. Cam drew beside him as she slipped on fingerless gloves. “Why are you going to the wall, Joel? What motivates you to fight for these people?”
“I am not going to the wall,” Joel said simply. “I will wait here. Wait until I am needed. As I am sure your i
ntention is.”
Cam nodded. Her eyes scanned the room. She saw only those she had seen before. No sign of Peter or Caleb or anyone else. And her sister...well Fiera was marching towards her own death. “But she will face it,” Cam thought. “And she will return victorious.”
The wind was biting. Cruel and merciless. But Fiera steeled her
face against it, did not let it tear her eyes from the figure who was approaching. His steps did not sound against the snow. His face could not be seen but for the two ice blue eyes peeking from the cloth wound about his head. Strings of bones were bound across his clothed chest. And in his gloved hand was grasped a long, crooked sword. He walked with a gait of comfort and confidence as if his approach was but a mere stroll. He flashed his sword. He was showing off. As he approached the wall brimming with its defense, the army behind him waited in silence. In utter stillness.
Saffira, who stood to Fiera’s right, drew in her breath. Fiera looked to where the younger woman was gazing. Behind the figure. Where there were no footprints. As if his walk had never been marked. “H-how…?” was all Fieracouldstutter under her breath. The figure was at the wall. A ladder of rope was let down, and Fiera watched as the clansman climbed it. As if he had done it hundreds of times. And when, at last, the figure appeared over the top of the wall, Fiera found that he was shorter than most of them.
But nimble and clever. Those eyes were fashioned of ice and burnished with fire. The general motioned behind him, and Lia stepped forward. Her mouth opened, and Fiera knew. She knew that this woman, though she had lived in Mirabelle since she had known of her, must have come from the southern desert lands. Or knew enough of them and their people to speak to them.
For she spoke, and Fiera did not know the words. Her string of words was short, clipped, and harsh sounding but not because Lia appeared harsh. No, her expression was schooled into neutrality. The man’s eyes narrowed. He straightened further as his eyes swept over Lia. He recognized her for her onyx hair and half moon, uptilted eyes and the light brown of her skin. But her eyes did not gleam blue like his. They were the richest shade of brown, like the desert scabbing beneath the sun.
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