by R. K. Gold
They all froze at one particular hill with two boulders perched on top. Pace moved a stone from the road to the hill's base and knelt with his head down. At first, Yael couldn’t see what made this spot so special. All she saw were wildflowers and open fields. When she reached the crest, she saw an abandoned town. Half the buildings still stood, with their walls charred, while the others were overgrown plots of land filled with debris.
“Doe,” Dean whispered.
Doe was the smallest of the three massacres in the northern territories during the first war. Vines grew over the remaining houses, many had half-collapsed roofs. Dean, Lewis, and Brody all joined Pace in kneeling. Yael dropped to the ground soon after and closed her eyes. She had no idea who she was praying to. What god would hear her and send blessings to the same land she allowed such atrocities to occur. When she opened her eyes, she saw Pace’s hands curled into fists.
“This is why Armstrong is right. They don’t deserve a country. Benny doesn’t deserve a throne, and the soldiers who were just following orders don’t deserve to live.” He bared his teeth, and Dean rested a massive hand on his back. Pace didn’t shrug it off. He just bowed his head and kissed the ground once more before returning to his feet.
A single man passed them on horseback, and in the sky, Yael saw an airship heading south. Its broad wings caught the wind in its light red sails, and the oval frame tilted to turn. Yael felt a breeze from home as the ship sailed away. She stood on the docks with Jomi more times than she could count, watching the ships enter and exit the port.
A small group trailed behind them, walking a mule with two sacks straddled to its sides. The closer they moved to Wezingo, the more people filled the road. A woman in a red summer dress chased after two children running in circles while a truck filled with boxes rattled over a bump.
Yael’s stomach growled. Brody moved his hands to his own and said, “Mine too.”
He broke off a piece of bread for them both. It was firm in Yael’s hands. It felt more like a stone, but she did her best to soften it and swallow in small bites. “Don’t worry. When we get to Wezingo, we’re going to feast. They always have the best food there,” Brody said.
“And how’re we gonna afford that?” Yael asked.
Brody tapped his fingers together and grinned over his steepled hands. “I think it’s time someone taught you how to work for your food.”
“If you get arrested, we aren’t gonna break you out,” Pace said.
Dean mouthed, “Of course we will,” and winked.
“It’s better if you’re working with someone else. Thankfully, I always have Lewis around.” Brody patted his brother on the back. Lewis slinked away. He kicked a dandelion on the side of the road, and the white seeds flew away. Yael’s feet were sore. Each step felt like she was pressing down on marbles. A sharp pain jolted up her shins every few steps, and the bruise on her stomach from the fence burned.
She knew of a few thieves back in Eselport, but they never went after any of the locals. The only criminals ever to try taking from a local usually had to answer to Toni. The ones who worked the docks used to ask easterners riddles to get off their boats. Sometimes they played a guessing game and would pester the tourists until they finally agreed to play. When they inevitably lost, they would usually get paid on the spot. If they didn't, their friends waited nearby to collect less politely.
“Usually, Lewis runs interference,” Brody said. He moved his hands through the air like they were holding large chess pieces. His fingers were long and slender. Perfect for slipping into pockets undetected. His messy black hair shot in every direction. When he smiled, the x-shaped scar on his chin faded.
“Only because he isn’t much of a people pleaser. He smiles at them, and they freak out, almost blows it every time.” Lewis pointed his thumb at his brother. Yael noticed his chin was a little rounder than his brother’s, and his jaw was a little squarer. They both had brown eyes, but Lewis’ were slightly lighter, especially in the sun.
"More like he can't make the grab fast enough. I always tell him two seconds is too long, but he wants to have a picnic in their back pocket." Brody waved a fist in his brother's direction. There was no malice in the gesture, and they both laughed at one another.
“The real trick is misdirection, that’s a given,” Brody said.
“Nah, it’s a beautiful woman. People love a beautiful woman. Will let them reach in their pockets, no questions asked. Might even give you the watch off their wrist if you ask politely.” Lewis corrected his brother and aimed a single finger into the sky.
"Oh, so that's why you brought me along," Yael smirked.
“I don’t believe it.” Brody rubbed his eyes and looked to his brother. “Do you see it too? Do you?”
“My God, an actual joke. From your lips to the Mother, it actually happened.” Lewis slapped his brother on the back. They were nearing Wezingo, and two soldiers on patrol drove by. Lewis gave a mocking two-finger salute as they passed.
“Easy, I don’t wanna draw too much attention to us.” Pace looked at the twins over his shoulder. “If she’s here, we need to keep a low profile.”
Yael’s face softened. She had forgotten they were chasing her sister. Her stomach twisted in knots. Could they really be closing in? “Is she usually here?”
“Always. It’s the closest shrine to the Mother without walking right into the forest.” Dean pointed ahead, and Yael saw a few houses on the side of the road. The streets grew more crowded as they passed the first neighborhood. All the homes were single story and had gardens in their yards. Butterflies fluttered across the street.
The first building was the tallest in the town. It was gray, with eight rows of windows and a flat roof. A soldier in green fatigues walked down the steps on crutches. His right leg was wrapped up.
“The fight has come to our doorstep! We have to push them back!” A woman with deep umber skin stood on the top steps of a concrete platform. The yellow and brown flag of Colodian flapped above her.
A dozen people stood in a circle around her as she spoke. All of them nodded in agreement. A few raised their fists with her, and another ten people loosely formed an outer circle of spectators who couldn’t seem to decide if they wanted to join or not.
Pace led his crew around the rally and along the paved road. Soldiers in green uniforms sat on iron chairs, sipping tea. They navigated the rest of the town, passing the shops and markets. The only school was closed, but children still played in the fields around it. There were two churches. One had a tall steeple and was built with stone and pavement. It had stained glass windows and images of a fire being held in two hands. The other was a wooden box without a door. Inside was a single fountain, and the back entrance led to a sanctuary.
When they entered, Yael caught a familiar whiff. Jasmine and mint. She could hear the water running through the fountain and stepped out the back entrance and on to a wooden patio. In the center of the courtyard was a stone statue of the Mother. Her hands were outstretched, and her head was bowed. However, Yael didn’t see the starborn anywhere. She was about to turn around and ask if there was anywhere else the starborn would hide, but Pace and his entire crew were nowhere to be seen. A robed girl not much older than Yael slipped out from the Mother's shadow and approached Yael. Her hands squeezed together, and as she exited the darkness, Yael spotted a hooked nose similar to hers. Her pulse quickened as she approached the stranger, not daring to look away. If it were the starborn, she could disappear as quickly as shadows in the light. The girl raised her head, and Yael could make out a single red eye and a colorless white one. It was really her. Her deep, russet tone skin didn't have a single blemish or wrinkle. She eyed Yael as if she had expected her to walk through that entrance at any moment.
The corners of Yael’s lips rose with no effort, and the starborn lowered her hood just as Pace scrambled into the sanctuary. He spotted the girl as she noticed him, and both their eyes bulged like a rabbit and a fox coming face to face, only Yae
l couldn’t tell who the predator was.
She grabbed Yael by the wrist, but Pace was on top of them before she could escape. Lewis and Brody followed suit, cutting off the starborn's path while Dean blocked the entrance. She would've been trapped if Yael hadn't seen her clear a ten-foot wall with ease back in Wydser. Who knew what else she was capable of?
Yael could feel her heartbeat in the wrist the starborn squeezed. Yael moved her hand to the girl’s and felt the starborn’s grip loosen. As they looked at one another, Pace seized the opportunity to lunge. The starborn caught him at the last second, yanking Yael behind her and shoving Pace forward with his momentum. He stumbled into a flowerbed, and the twins flanked the starborn. When Pace recovered, he crouched low with his arms out wide, ready to tackle her if he had to.
The starborn looked at Yael then to the wall. Like she was calculating the risk in her head and weighing the options of leaving Yael there or fighting off the four other boys. Yael squeezed her hand more firmly. Ms. White used to watch her like that and chose Yael out of duty. Every time the monthly payment arrived, she would eye Yael like she made the right choice. Some days, she wouldn't even send her to the market after the money came.
"No, don't run," Yael said. She didn't want to be a piece on a scale any longer. She wanted to be the choice without a shadow of a doubt or to be left alone for good. A family wasn't something we dove halfway into. "Are you my sister?" she finally asked, and the tension over the sanctuary shattered like a glass dome from a lightning strike.
The starborn looked at Yael, then the rest of the boys surrounding her. Her grip tightened on Yael's wrist, and even though it stung, it made her smile. “I can’t with them around.” She didn’t look at anyone as she spoke. Her dark hair was twisted in neatly coiled knots in rows along her head.
“If they go, I can tell you anything you’d like to know.”
“Does that mean we’re sisters?” Yael asked, but the starborn didn't budge. It was like she hovered her ship outside the port with no intentions of docking.
“No way, we’re not letting you go again,” Pace said. The twins looked ready to jump into a fight. Lewis bounced on his toes, and Brody arched forward like he was prepared to throw his entire body into a strike if he had to. Though they only came up to her chest, they didn't seem like the type who minded aiming low in a fight.
Yael turned to Pace, whose expression only hardened. He shook his head. "We've been chasing her for years. You want to find out about your family? What about the lives of our country? What about our families who have suffered in a war she and her father could end at any moment?" He pointed to the starborn. "You want proof of the Mother and her power, it's right there. By the solstice, the power can be ours, and we can make sure Emerlia and Dracar never get to make others suffer again.”
“You want proof of why the forest keeps your kind out, just listen to the words you speak. The power of the land—the power of the sea—and the power of the Mother aren’t here to service you.” The starborn glared at Pace. Her stare alone felt like they could disintegrate him and caused Pace to pull at the collar of his shirt. He had dirt on his face from the previous night in the barn, and his clothes were wrinkled. "The best thing the forest has done for your kind is keep you out." Her voice was lower than Yael expected. It had an earthy tone to it, like each time she spoke, the ground beneath them shifted. “You’re seeking your father, right?” she asked Yael, and the words nearly knocked the young girl back. She couldn’t take a full breath, and a pressure built in her chest.
Heat drilled into her temples, and she squeezed the starborn’s hand. “You know where he is?”
She fell silent again, and her body returned to its lifeless state. She was a tree protecting the bird living in its trunk until its predators left. “Please—Pace—Dean—” She looked at her four companions. They had been searching for the starborn for at most four years. She had been searching for her father for twelve. “Please,” she repeated, and Pace chewed his lip.
“Lewis and Brody, cover the streets. Make sure she doesn’t make a break for it. Dean, stay at the front of the cottage so she can’t walk out.” He glared at the starborn as he walked down the stone path through the sanctuary. A single pond trickled in the middle in front of the statue of the Mother. A tree with a face etched on its trunk stood by the entrance. Its shade stretched over half the sanctuary. Pace nodded to the brother and turned back to Yael and the starborn. “You have five minutes.” He patted Dean on the chest and left. Dean hesitated before leaving the open space. The twins were the last to leave. They whispered to one another.
“Why don’t we just grab her? She can talk when she’s tied up,” Brody said.
When they were finally gone, Yael turned back to her girl—her one possible link to learning about her real family. A million questions filled her head all at once. It burned, but for the first time, it wasn’t a pressure that smothered her; it was a kettle letting out steam. She would finally get the answers she was looking for. When she opened her mouth to speak, she saw a hand chop towards her temple, and the world went dark.
18
Armstrong's men returned to camp winded but alive. They burned fires through the night as the colonel returned to his tent. It was the same beige color as their uniforms with a round table in the center. A large map of the continent and a smaller map of northern locations were marked off for potential invasion points. Armstrong's personal desk was behind the table, where his star chart was still out on full display.
He hoped Pace was okay. Most of all, he prayed to the Three he didn't listen to his advice. Krate was no longer safe. None of the western nations were. They had to get off the continent as quickly as possible. Eselport was probably the safest bet now—and even that wasn't a guarantee. It was one a matter of time before Dracar put up some kind of blockade. It's what he would do, especially given how King Benny lost the last war.
One of his men entered his tent. His uniform was crisp, and his hat upright. He stood straight and waited for Armstrong to wave him forward. "What do you have for me?"
“Hizen’s been attacked by loyalists, sir.” The soldier kept his eyes forward as he spoke. His posture remained straight. “Two of the men who fought off the loyalists returned to camp today.”
“They’re here?” Armstrong rubbed his mouth and folded the star chart. Things were escalating too quickly. The solstice was six days away. “Send them in.” He rubbed the back of his head and paced when the soldier stepped out. He couldn’t abandon his men if Emerlia attacked, but the only way to possibly fend off the armies was the power of the Mother.
There was still no word from Wendell. He imagined her sitting in her garden and waiting for the war to figure itself out. It wouldn't be much different from what she did the last time. Two new men entered the tent. They each saluted Armstrong, who sat on the front of his desk and waited for them to speak.
“About a dozen uniformed men rioted in Hizen.”
“Uniformed?” Armstrong raised an eyebrow. They weren’t even trying to hide the attacks anymore.
“Yes, sir, a dozen and another fifteen in civilian clothing. They weren’t looking for a fight, and folded soon after we opened fire,” the soldier added.
“We spotted them chasing a group of children, sir. They were lighting fires through town, burning the sanctuary and local inn. I don't know what they were doing out. The town was warned that morning of loyalist movement."
“Did you get a look at them?” Armstrong asked. A pit burned in his stomach. He knew the chances were slim, but what if it had been Pace there. Was the child heading north after he specifically ordered him not to? Of course, he was. Armstrong clenched his jaw. It was precisely the sort of thing he would've done if he were Pace's age. He had been chasing the starborn since he was nine. He wouldn't stop over a war.
“Only one, sir. A tall boy, large gut, big arms.”
Good, it didn’t sound like Pace, Armstrong thought.
“And a red headband.”
The headband made Armstrong’s ears perk up. He knew he had seen it before. “Did you see how many people were traveling with him?”
"Four, maybe five," the soldier responded. Armstrong turned back to his desk. So, Pace was heading north. Of course, he went to Hizen. The starborn always left an offering for the Mother there during her rounds along the north.
“You’re dismissed.” Armstrong waved the two soldiers out. The original messenger led them through the slit in the front of the tent. When he returned, Armstrong said, “An attack is coming within the week. Head west. We know they will strike from Krate. That’s where their forces have bunched up to conquer for Dracar. Gilmore has promised us more troops. The reserves are up, and a wave of new volunteers have already begun training.” He wished Diana had ordered a draft. Gilmore seemed confident he could pass it through Nisset when they last spoke. “At first light, you march." He could tell the soldier wanted to ask where Armstrong would be heading, but it couldn't fall to the wrong ears. At its best, it would sound like he had lost his mind on the cusp of battle. At its worst, he would be deemed a deserter, but he saw no other way. If Emerlia and Dracar were attacking, and Colodian didn’t have the assistance from Lysander that helped win the first war, their only hope was capturing the power of the Mother.
“Dismissed.”
19
As Yael came around, she smelled fresh jasmine and peppermint. Fireflies hovered all around her, blinking on and off as the haziness began to fade. Her sunglasses were gone, and at first, she covered her eyes with her hands. A thousand eyes surrounded her all at once with fingers trying to pry back her grip—only the pressure never came. Under the gentle light of the forest, she saw that the only person around was the starborn.
The trees stretched high into the sky, blotting out chunks with their thick leaves and branches. They spanned the forest in all directions, wide enough apart to grow but close enough for their limbs to meet as they crisscrossed overhead. The starborn no longer wore her robe, instead donning a similar beige uniform to Armstrong's men, only with the dragonfly on her chest. They were alone—except something unsettling rested in the darkness. Though no figures emerged, a presence waited.
