Shielded

by KayLynn Flanders

  Hafa shook his head and stopped my frantic steps with his hand on my arm. “Whoever did that, whatever their purpose, we need troops if we are to face them.”

  I winced at the reminder. My purpose was to be traded for something more useful than I could be on my own. My hands shook at my sides, so I tucked them into my pockets and sat.

  “You’ll be safe in Turia,” he said.

  But it wasn’t my safety I was worried about. It was my secret. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed deep.

  Seven days. One week. And then the blank slate of my future would be set.

  “Are Turians afraid of magic?” I asked. “It must be so foreign to them. Will I have to hide my sword?”

  Hafa shrugged back into his coat. Night had truly fallen around us, and though the yard had quieted, the night creatures had awoken. “Not afraid, only wary. They understand its purpose on the Plateau. Our purpose.”

  I rested my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. He’d answered me without answering.

  “And the Wild?” I asked, sensing our conversation was almost over.

  Hafa grew very still, his gaze fixed on the flames. A bat swooped and darted overhead, a jerking, chaotic flight.

  He cleared his throat, but a thin layer of calm now coated him. Practiced.

  “There is balance between the three kingdoms of the Plateau. Hálendi is a land of mountains and snow, with warriors trained to protect and defend, fields for cattle, and mines that provide us with precious gems to trade. Turia has wide valleys and fertile plains and a long growing season, as well as caches of hard ore to furnish us with weapons. Riiga’s cunning merchants have access to the seas and the Continent that the other two kingdoms lack because of the cliffs surrounding the Plateau.

  “With the balance in trade and economy, there is also balance in magic,” he continued. “As magic presents itself in the line of the kings of our kingdom, so it does, to a lesser degree, in the rulers of the other kingdoms.”

  “Ice and snow,” I muttered. Ren was the only one who was supposed to have magic. Yet I had magic. Wanderers in the Ice Deserts were apparently using magic to attack us. And now this?

  “Magic, Jennesara, is not always predictable. Not according to our understanding of it, at least,” he said before I could form a response. “There have always been those using magic for evil, and it is balanced by those using it for good. The land here is the same. It strives for harmony. And when Kais enchanted the Ice Deserts, the Wild was inadvertently affected as well.”

  My mind churned. Laughter spilled out of the tavern next to the inn, jarring the quiet of the night. “So you’re saying the Wild has magic that equals the magic that surrounds the Ice Deserts?”

  Hafa grunted. “Not sure what the land was thinking, but yes.”

  I swallowed. “What kind of magic is in the Wild?”

  Hafa’s steel-gray eyes bore into me. “I don’t know, but at all costs, don’t go off the road.”

  A beat of silence stretched into two. Even the drunks next door quieted. He stood, brushing off his trousers. Adjusted the sword at his waist.

  “Jennesara, Hálendi’s first king swore an oath to protect the people of the Plateau from threats both physical and magical. This is why we are a warrior people, and why we thrive in the cold, harsh winters. It is our legacy to survive and protect.”

  I dug the toe of my boot into the ash at the edge of the fire. I heard what he didn’t say. That my role in protecting the Plateau was to marry the prince. To ensure that Ren had enough troops. I pressed my thumb into the cross guard of my sword. A faint zing shot up my arm, so subtle I almost missed it.

  “Princess,” Aleinn called from the door of the roundhouse. “It’s far past time to retire.” Light spilled into the yard, Aleinn’s form a dark outline. I waved to her to show that I’d heard. A breeze carried the fire’s heat into the black sky, and I shivered.

  “Thank you for telling me this,” I whispered to Hafa, my voice barely carrying over the raucous shouting from the tavern.

  Hafa pursed his lips like he wanted to say something else. His beard twitched, but he only bowed at the waist and gestured for me to precede him to the door of the inn. I lifted the flap on my saddlebag, took out my hunting knife, and slipped it into my boot before slinging the bag over my shoulder.

  We’d only be in the Wild for four days. We’d have no reason to leave the road. We’d be fine.

  * * *

  The next day, when we crossed into the Wild, something changed in the air. The endless trees grew taller here, their color richer. Spiny underbrush climbed their trunks like a spider’s web warning visitors away. More bits of snow were crusted in the shadows, even this far south in spring.

  As we rode down the center of the road, no one venturing near the edge, I began to feel a charge. Something crackling inside me. The same as when I brushed my hair too much, and some strands snapped and rose into the air.

  We rounded a bend near midday, and the road passed through a small grassy meadow, the spines and trees removed enough to allow space to breathe.

  “We stop here!” Leland called out from the front of our group. His shout didn’t echo like it should have.

  Everyone dismounted and hobbled their horses so they could graze in the grass. I hefted my bag from Gentry’s saddle, then joined the others in the middle of the road. Aleinn sat next to me, talking quietly with another woman next to her.

  The food was fresh—packed this morning—yet the flavors barely registered. Ren’s tether, and my father’s, had sharpened. Their emotions, which had been growing hazier, tightened like we were in the castle together again. Ren’s excitement burned away his weariness—he was nearly at North Watch; I could feel it. Was Father close to discovering the traitor? I hoped so, but his worry seemed to increase with every inch the sun traveled across the sky.

  The clarity in the tethers didn’t ease the ache of missing them that stayed wrapped around my chest all the time. One more day of travel until we’d reach the Fjalls. One day up and over the pass, one more through the Wild on the edge of Turia, then we’d be on easy roads all the way to the palace.

  As we packed up lunch and started riding again, a bright flash of orange darted behind the tree line in the corner of my vision. I turned sharply to see what had flown by, but nothing was there.

  It kept happening as we plodded along. Reds, yellows, pinks. And even a green I’d never seen before in my life. But every time, the flashes disappeared when I turned to look. Others saw them, too; I was sure of it. But by evening, everyone had stopped twisting about, trying to see what made the colors.

  We stopped in a wide clearing for the night. No stumps marred the area, and the smooth ground made setting up our tents easy, despite the growing unease among our group from the day’s travels.

  “Has this clearing always been like this?” I asked Hafa as we unloaded the dinner gear from the back harness on the carriage. Aleinn helped us, a routine we’d perfected over the last few days.

  Hafa’s knuckles whitened around the ax he held. “Yes.”

  A wolf howled far in the distance, and Aleinn edged closer to me. “Who maintains the road?” she asked, the box filled with wooden bowls forgotten in her hands.

  Hafa’s lips pursed. “No one. It just stays clear.”

  “No fallen trees?” I asked. “No new growth that needs to be cut back?”

  His head jerked side to side. “No.”

  “Glaciers,” Aleinn muttered.

  “Glaciers,” I agreed.

  Hafa’s jaw unclenched, and he handed his load to another soldier behind us. “Come, Princess. There is enough light to practice again.”

  I swallowed back my groan, the welts on my hands stinging in anticipation.

  “There isn’t much point in practicing,” General Leland said to Hafa and me from near the fron
t of the carriage. “In a few days’ time, she’ll be tucked safely away in Turia’s palace. You may as well be helpful and gather kindling instead.” His words carried an edge sharper than he’d used the whole trip.

  The activity around us stopped and my muscles went rigid. No one spoke to Hafa that way. No one spoke to me that way. Not to my face, at least.

  Hafa stilled. He’d always demanded my training. Even when my father tried to forbid it when I was thirteen and had twisted my ankle jumping off the fence surrounding the sparring ring.

  Hafa stood like a stone column in the face of a storm. “Jennesara can decide how she would like to spend her time.”

  Aleinn and Hafa and Leland and everyone stared at me. A flush of heat rose in my cheeks at the attention, and that snapping, jittery feeling inside me intensified. Master Hafa had called me by my name only. No title. What did I want? “I want to continue training,” I said.

  Leland turned away, a mask of indifference, directing others to the place he wanted them to put his tent. Hafa led me back down the road, a slight bend hiding us from sight.

  We followed our routine—swords and stones, and me landing hard when Hafa bested me, though I did better at prolonging most of the fights.

  “Get up, Princess,” he said when he’d won the fourth time.

  I lay flat on my stomach and caught my breath. Sweat soaked into my shirt, and the last rays of evening light settled through the trees around me. Master Hafa gathered more pebbles. Smaller ones. The kind that stung the most when I lost track of them in the twilight.

  “How will I even know if someone has magic?” I asked. “Won’t it be too late by the time I figure it out?”

  He nudged me with his foot until I ungracefully got up and he circled, ready to strike again. “That is why we practice. Your instincts in any fight are the line between life and death.”

  He flicked a pebble at my head before he’d finished speaking, and I blocked it without a thought, my palm stinging from the impact. I stood, stunned, at where the speck of gray now rested at my feet.

  He dipped his shoulder down and dug his foot into the dirt. “Better, but you can be faster.” His blade charged forward. He liked the element of surprise, but he’d trained me well enough to expect that.

  Rock after rock, swing after swing, we fell into a rhythm of attacking and defending. I had jumped aside to avoid his sword at my shoulder when a choking fury stopped me cold. A rock slammed into my temple, and I yelped and stumbled away.

  My father’s tether.

  I swallowed back a metallic taste and focused, the snapping tension easing as my father’s anger softened.

  “You are not trying, Princess,” Hafa growled.

  “I am trying,” I replied, lungs aching to pull in enough air.

  He shook his head and came at me again. “You’re fighting with your mind. Fight with your heart—for your brother, your father, your kingdom.” He punctuated each word by swinging his sword, forcing me backward until I stumbled into mud at the edge of the road.

  I rolled away from him and cursed under my breath. My focus narrowed—no tethers, no Wild, no prince. Just Hafa’s inhale, my exhale. The tang of metal and dirt and snow and pine.

  I raised my sword, and everything else melted away. Crackling energy stirred in my middle. The feeling spread throughout my body, into my hands and feet. Focus. I pulled a breath deep into my lungs and attacked.

  My blade whistled as I countered Hafa’s blows. Half his pebbles still hit me. He attacked high, and I saw a hole in his guard and countered. But my sword whiffed through air. I fell forward and hit the ground before I’d realized what had happened.

  “Timing!” Hafa barked, and I rolled over my shoulder and up. I’d been too early. Too fast.

  On my feet again, I moved more fluidly than water, dodging Hafa’s blade and deflecting more rocks, dancing around him until I found the opening I needed. Timing. I slid onto my knees. My sword moved up, almost of its own accord, its edge sliding under his cross guard to flick his weapon out of his grasp. I hooked my leg behind his knees and shoved against his chest. He and his sword hit the ground at the same time.

  Somewhere in the trees beyond, a sharp trill broke through the barrier between us and the Wild. Master Hafa lay with the tip of my sword at his chest, grinning, his blade just beyond his reach. I exhaled and shook off my intense focus. Noises sharpened. The smell of dust and sweat and pine returned.

  Slow clapping began.

  Most of the camp was crowded at the road’s bend watching our fight.

  I sheathed my sword and turned to help Hafa up, but he was already standing, brushing mud off his uniform.

  “How did that feel?” he asked as he gathered his sword.

  It feels like rushing, Ren had said. I shook the thought away. “Clarity,” I said instead, tucking my braid to the side. “It felt like clarity.”

  Hafa’s eyes gleamed as night fell around us. “Remember that feeling, Princess. That is what it will take to win.” He clapped me on the back. “Come. We need an early start tomorrow. My bones say a storm is coming.”

  I fell into step next to him, accepting congratulations from the soldiers, laughing when Aleinn pulled me into a tight hug. Yet as we ate dinner, circled tight around the fire, my euphoria shrank. How would my artifacts help me with a prince I had to marry? A traitor I’d never reach in time? A war on a border I’d never see?

  On either side of the road, where the trees met the brush, there was nothing but a wall of black. Not one bit of light from the fire penetrated into the Wild. And when I crawled into my tent, my back itched between my shoulder blades. It didn’t matter how many times I told myself we were safe on the road. Something was lurking out there in the Wild. And it wasn’t just the wolves.

  “The animals will warn you of foul weather, if you pay attention,” Hafa said as we slogged along behind the carriage. We’d woken to a light dusting of snow, tiny white crystals covering everything from the tips of the sky-high evergreens to the spiny underbrush that was now taller than me. The snow had turned to rain by breakfast.

  “What if there aren’t any animals around?” I asked, tightening my cloak at the shoulders so the chill wind couldn’t sneak down my neck. My hood was already pulled so low all I could see was the churned mud of the road directly beneath Gentry’s hooves, and the rain soaking my gloves.

  The precipitation did nothing to dampen the crackling charge inside me. It only intensified as we got closer to the Fjalls. I didn’t have to focus to access the tethers anymore—my father and brother were always there, simmering below my own emotions.

  Hafa sneezed. “If there are no animals, you’d best be on high alert. There are always little creatures foraging in the forest. Unless something bad’s afoot.”

  I wiped my dripping nose and shivered. It shouldn’t have been this cold. Was it a trick of the Wild? Or because we were climbing toward the mountains?

  A jolt punched into me from the tethers so hard my hands jerked the reins. Gentry snorted, tossing her wet mane. I pressed my hand against my middle and raised my head. Ice-cold water dripped down my face and slipped under my collar.

  My father’s tether screamed with something I’d never felt from him: fear. A deep pit opened in my stomach. I doubled over, swallowing down its rising contents.

  “Princess?” Hafa said, stopping his horse next to mine. His hand gripped the hilt of his sword.

  I yanked off my thick gloves, stuffing them in Gentry’s saddle, then tipped my hood back, gasping for air and letting the rain cool my face. “It’s not—”

  “Sir, make way!” Leland called from ahead, his deep voice an explosion of sound. The carriage sighed to a halt, the wheels sinking deep into the black, muddy road.

  Complete, deafening silence cloaked the woods. Even the stream next to the road didn’t make a sound. There were no bir
ds calling, no wind in the trees. No raindrops pinging against leaves.

  Hafa reached out and jerked my hood up again. He drew his sword slowly and put a finger to his lips. My father’s tether didn’t calm; it twisted into more knots. My eyes watered from trying to control my breathing, to relax. I nodded and stayed close as Hafa edged around the carriage.

  A lone figure mounted on a horse stood on the trail ahead of us, gray cloak billowing in a wind I could no longer hear.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, pushing away my father’s tether. A hood obscured the figure’s face, but I thought it was a man. The space inside me where the tethers lived jumped and danced like a raging fire. My ears felt full of cotton.

  The man didn’t respond to Leland’s call, didn’t move. Was he a trick of the Wild?

  Gentry’s ears flicked back, and her eyes rolled.

  Hafa studied the trees around us, a wall of emerald. A tremor of panic shook my father’s tether. My heartbeat pounded through my skull, throbbed in my fingertips. No. My father was in trouble, and I was too far away to help.

  Leland drew his sword and the rasp of metal echoed deep into the trees. “Move, or we shall use force!”

  Something was wrong. This man on the road. My father’s tether. Hafa’s words from last night came back to me. Timing. My head commanded that I run. Flee. Escape. I shoved the thoughts away and gripped the hilt of my sheathed sword.

  The figure raised his hand, palm forward. An invisible wave enveloped the road, swallowing us all. The air vibrated with power unlike anything I’d ever felt.

  Filthy men streamed out of the woods—some on horseback, most on foot—and surrounded us with clubs and swords. But no one moved or tried to fight free. Next to me, Master Hafa was frozen in place, eyes wide, hand clenched around the hilt of his sword.

  My chest rose and fell fast. My breaths came loud. Hafa wasn’t waiting for the right moment—he was immobile. I scanned our entire group. Everyone was.