She stayed silent, knowing he was right, but wishing she could go back to the time when the most important thing in her world had been her rank within the Scouts and feeling the freedom of the forest.
"I’m glad you chose to stay with us, by the way," he said mildly, glancing down at her with a straight face. She narrowed her eyes at him. Of course he had noticed her moment of hesitation. Had he done it on purpose, as a test? Probably not...but it appeared she had passed either way. She still wasn't even sure why she'd stayed...but she was here now, so she may as well make herself useful.
"We should get to work," she said, pointedly ignoring his comment. He nodded, a smirk hovering on his lips as he waited for her to make the first move. Why was he always so smug? Stupid man needed a lesson in manners. She snatched a shovel from a passing worker, who gave her a startled look and tried to protest until he caught sight of her expression. He went scurrying off.
"Here," she tossed it towards Sukylar and then grabbed one for herself. He caught the tool smoothly and looked down at the row of bodies. For once, the smile wiped completely from his face. He gave her another searching look, then together they joined the others who had started digging the graves. It was hard work in the hot summer sun, but the strain on her muscles took her mind off the other issues that threatened to overwhelm her. Somehow, stabbing the earth with her spade and dumping the heavy load to the side, she was able to let go of the awful feeling of helplessness that she’d felt at seeing that little body under the sheet. Now if only she could make sense of the rest of her emotions.
Chapter 7: Fracture Lines
Calistra listened to the report with frustration. How had they been left vulnerable to attack? The scouts were supposed to be the first line of defense, then the outer sentries, then the camp guards. That a group of trolls had managed to make it past the first two defenses and break through the third without the others being alerted or the people evacuated was more than just disheartening, it was disastrous. She had been on her way with the final load of things from their old camp when one of their few remaining message birds had found her. It was one she’d given to Jenie and Hal in case of emergency. The message was brief: “Elrackon attack, Send Help.”
She had spread the word to the Shaari who were guarding the caravan route, and they had sent a dragon to alert the warriors closer to the encampment, with the hopes that they could arrive in time to do some good. Ky’ara had offered to bridge the distance for some of them, but Calistra had taken one look at how worn the girl already looked and decided against it. She still hadn’t recovered fully from the last time, and it wouldn’t do anyone any good for them to arrive with a comatose Ysinkai only to find the problem had already been dealt with. She had ridden on ahead, however, covering the distance in half the time the caravan would take. Now she was listening to one of the sentries read the long list of damages and losses.
Fifteen dead, one of them a child. Thank goodness it hadn’t been one of Hal and Jenie’s. She felt terrible for thinking that, but she’d grown attached to the little scamps during the last month, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing one of them. She’d tried to convince Jenie to leave the children behind in their village, in the care of a nursemaid, but the woman wouldn’t hear of it. She would have to try harder this time...though perhaps after witnessing what had just occurred, Jenie would be easier to convince.
"Milady?" The scout who had been detailing the attack looked at her expectantly. She pulled herself from her thoughts and mentally ran through the last of what she remembered from his report. The graves had been dug already, but she was expected to say a few words to honor them and comfort those left behind...the healers had requested an additional mage be assigned to the medical tent to deal with the injured, and something about one of the captains being hurt...she froze, processing the last bit of information. She'd already seen three of the five captains who had been at this camp. That left only Geri or Allea.
"I'm sorry, I am tired after my ride here, I was not paying as close attention as I should have. What was that about the captain?"
"He is in bad shape. He'll probably survive, but—"
He. That eliminated Allea. Calistra ignored the rest of what the man had to say and ran to the medical tent as fast as her legs could carry her. No, it couldn't be Geri. Had she really seen captain Mathan earlier? Maybe she'd mistaken someone else for him. She threw open the flap of the tent, startling the patient nearest to it and drawing a glare from the matron on duty. She didn't care.
"Where is he?" she asked Julaine. The healer sighed and jerked her head towards the back corner, indicating that Calistra should follow her. Geri lay on a makeshift pallet, the cots having been packed with the load that Calistra had been overseeing before this had all happened. He was shirtless, his chest wrapped in a white bandage that covered almost his entire torso. He had a gash just above his eyebrow, a mottled bruise covered half his face, and his left eye was swollen. He was awake, but the smile he gave her was so pathetically small that she felt tears well up at the sight of it.
She took a steadying breath. She was a leader. Breaking down in front of others was useless and only made her look weak. He was a soldier—yes he was her friend, but so were many of the others—was she going to break down every time someone she knew was injured?
But it's Geri! Her mind screamed. She ignored it, pushing aside the panic she felt rising in her chest and forcing herself to act as though she wasn't falling apart inside.
"What is the extent of his injuries, and how soon can I expect him to be fit for duty?" She asked the healer.
"He had some broken ribs, and severe bruising across the middle of his back. We were able to mostly fix those, but deep bruises are tricky...we're not sure if we took care of everything that was damaged on the inside. The facial injuries are mostly cosmetic, but we are concerned about the swelling. We slowed it with magic, but it may have already damaged his sight in that eye. No way to know until it heals the rest of the way."
Calistra nodded, resting her fingertips gently atop Geri's open hand and feeling the magic that already buzzed in his veins. If the healers had done all they could, it was unlikely she'd he able to make a difference. She couldn't resist sending a flicker of her own power though him, to give him a little boost of encouragement. His hand closed over hers, and she looked down at him in surprise. He didn't smile this time, just held her gaze for a moment.
"Don't tell Jenie, but I was just lookin' for an excuse not to help with setting up the camp." His voice was thin and dry, not quite a croak, but worse than a whisper.
"Hush now," Calistra chastised him, "It's no time to be cracking jokes. You're hurt, you need to rest."
"I feel like I was run over by a blasted troll...what am I thinking? I was run over by a troll. I feel like either crying or laughing, and I'd much rather do the latter—what better time to crack jokes?"
Calistra let herself smile a little at this, and gave his hand a soft squeeze. "Just don't overdo it. I need you to recover."
Geri started to smile slyly, then winced as the action pulled the bruised side of his face in strange directions. Calistra bit her lip, mentally counting to ten before she said anything. She couldn’t break down in front of everyone, especially not him. Worrying him was the last thing she needed to accomplish.
“I'm serious Geri, for once in your life listen to me and follow your healer's instructions!"
He nodded, wincing again and then holding as still as possible. "I think I'm going to just stop moving now."
"Good." Calistra nodded emphatically and gently extricated her hand from his before turning to the healer.
"Make sure he stays down and quiet as long as you think he needs to. If anything takes a turn for the worst, get me immediately."
Julaine nodded and her eyes flicked between the injured man and the rebel leader, her face carefully arranged to hide whatever she was thinking.
Calistra thanked the healer and walked back through the tent, stoppin
g momentarily at a few other beds on her way out, lending a little extra magic to the ones who needed it. She didn't want to interfere with the healers' work too much, but it was important for the people to see her among them, helping and sharing the load.
She found Jenie waiting for her at the door of the tent. Calistra stumbled slightly, and looked up to see concern in the woman's eyes.
"Are you alright?" Jenie asked, once they were safely outside and away from prying eyes.
"I'm fine," Calistra answered. She'd used a little more of her magic than she should have, and she was already worn down by the days spent packing and bringing things to the camp, not to mention the desperate ride here. Jenie accepted her statement silently, calculating how soon dinner would be done so she could force a bowl of stew on the tired girl.
"Is my command tent set up yet? Did it survive the attack?" Calistra asked briskly.
Jennie nodded. "Thanks in no small part to Geri. He set it up and he killed the only troll to enter that part of camp, so it should be all ready for you."
"Thank the Light for something anyways," Calistra said, glad both because it was somewhere she could sit and rest, and because it would be easier to coordinate cleanup and receive reports from an already established location.
Jenie walked with her through the camp. She didn't need to guide Calistra because they set up in the same formation every time to make it easier to navigate. When they reached her tent, Calistra thanked the woman and bid her goodbye. She stepped inside the canvas dwelling and felt a momentary rush of warmth. It was already furnished and decorated for her in the precise layout she liked. Unbidden, tears came to her eyes when she realized Geri had noted exactly how she like things and taken the time and thought to prepare this room for her. She closed her eyes for a moment, then dashed the tears away and walked to her desk. She had work to do.
* * * * *
Ky’ara walked through the camp with Taren at her side. Luckily most of the trolls had been defeated at the border, but there was still significant damage to the interior of the camp. She and Taren lent a hand wherever they could, holding tent posts steady so they could be pounded back into their holes, unpacking crates, and buoying people up with words of encouragement. It was exhausting.
"We should make sure there is a tent set up and ready for you," Taren remarked as Ky'ara stifled a yawn.
She tried to protest, but another yawn forced its way out and she had to concede that she needed to sleep soon. She'd been up since dawn that morning, and she still didn't feel fully recovered from the effort of the transportation spell. Reluctantly, she allowed him to take her towards where the majority of the organization's sleeping tents were set up. This side of the camp hadn't taken much damage, but many of the tents had been abandoned mid-setup due to the attack and hadn't yet been completed.
Taren sought out the woman supervising the unloading of the newly arrived carts, and inquired about where to find another tent. The woman distractedly waved him toward one of the carts while she checked items off a list and shouted directions to the workers. Ky'ara took a bundle of canvas from Taren and then followed him back to the end of the closest row of tents. He set down the heavy center post he'd been carrying and then cursed under his breath. "I forgot a shovel to dig the hole for the post, I'll be right back."
"Don't bother," Ky'ara replied, she murmured a string of words under her breath and a large chunk of dirt extricated itself from the ground a few feet away, creating a hole roughly the necessary size.
Taren gave her an exasperated look. "You're already exhausted, you shouldn't be doing that."
She shrugged. "It takes the same amount of energy as doing it the regular way, right? This way it just gets done quicker...and I saved you the energy it takes to walk all the way back for a shovel."
"You should've let me do it then," Taren replied. He tied the canvas to rings at the top of the post and stuck the bottom of it deep into the hole. After pushing the dirt back in and tamping it down as best as he could, they each took opposite sides of the cloth and some tent stakes so they could secure the outside corners. "No mallets?" Ky'ara asked. Taren looked at her and shook his head in frustration. "I don't know where my head is. I was in such a hurry to get you situated for the night..."
"It's ok. We can just do it with magic again."
Ky'ara knelt and held the stake in place with one hand, then used her other to send a concentrated ball of force at it, driving it into the ground. She hit it again to push it in a little further, then went to the other corner to repeat the procedure. When she had finished, she looked over at Taren and saw that he had just started the second corner. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and he had to hit the stake eight times with the little pulses of power before it held well enough.
Ky'ara frowned. "Are you alright? You've seemed...off somehow, lately."
Taren sighed, leaning back on his heels. "I want to say I'm fine, but to be honest I'm not sure. My abilities have seemed...less."
Ky'ara was quiet for a moment. "What happens to a Keeper, when his Druid dies?" she asked softly.
Taren looked at her in surprise. "I hadn't even considered... when I first woke I just assumed Arys was dead...I thought I hadn't experienced a dampening of my powers because I was already sealed when she died...."
"But she hadn't died," Ky'ara said ruefully, "Not fully anyways. She was just trapped in the Dreamworld."
Taren nodded. "But now...apparently her passing on from the Dreamworld means our Link has been broken."
"And that means you've lost all the special abilities it granted you?" Ky'ara asked.
Taren shook his head. "I don't know...not ALL of them, not entirely anyways, I think. It's hard to know for sure, since I've been a Keeper my whole life—or nearly anyways."
"You still have magic, obviously," Ky'ara said, and Taren nodded, "but it’s harder, isn’t it? And you obviously need more sleep than you’re used to...what about your heightened senses and speed?"
Taren spread his hands. "I'm definitely not as fast as I was before, I can't sense things as well either. But I don't know whether it's more than what I would've had without the Link or not. I have no baseline to judge it on. I was only thirteen last time I did anything without those abilities."
"Well, just be careful,” Ky'ara said softly, "Figure out what your limits are and don't take risks."
Taren glanced sidelong at her. "Isn't that what I keep telling you?"
"Now you know how it feels," she said lightly, sensing the undercurrent of frustration in his voice. He shook his head and pulled her to him, holding her as though he needed to reassure himself that she was still there. She buried her face in his chest and wrapped her arms around his back. After a moment she pulled back a little so she could look up at him.
"So...what do we tell everyone else?" she asked, "They're used to relying on your abilities."
"Joran will just have to step up." Taren replied.
Ky'ara was quiet. She couldn't defend Joran against the implied slight without potentially starting an argument, and she very much wanted to just stand here and be held. Taren looked down and gave her a tired smile. “We’d both better get some rest. I don’t know if the kitchens are serving supper or not... but you should see if you can find some food, I’ll get Angallia unloaded and bring your things back here.”
Ky’ara laid her head against his chest again and sighed tiredly, then nodded and let go, her hand sliding along his arm till it found his hand. “Don’t work too hard though, I can unpack tomorrow.”
She started to turn to leave, but Taren tightened his grip on her hand and pulled her in for a lingering kiss. “I might not be as fast or as observant as I used to be,” he murmured, “but I will still take care of you, Ky’ara. I hope you know that.”
“I do,” she replied, blushing a little when she noticed some of the people nearby shooting looks their way. “Maybe now you’ll let me take care of you too.”
She said it lightheartedly, but she meant it. He
had always been so independent...so competent at everything that she felt a little superfluous. If it weren’t for her status as an Ysinkai she’d be worthless. Maybe this was her chance to help him for once. He nodded vaguely and let her go, heading off towards where they’d left the horses.
She watched him for a moment, was it her imagination that he seemed to move with just a touch less poise? He still carried himself like a warrior—confident and controlled—but he also seemed, just a little...less balanced. She bit her lip and turned to find the kitchen area. If Taren was more vulnerable, that also meant she had more to worry about.
* * * * *
Lauryn watched Ky’ara from a distance, struggling with her temper. She’d come to try making peace, to talk to the girl about her part in Myrnai’s death, but then she’d seen Taren there and the two seemed...occupied. Unbidden, feelings of resentment on Myrnai’s behalf rose within her. It was ridiculous, of course. It had been over five hundred years since Myrnai had been with Taren, and she wouldn't have had a chance to really be with him after his awakening even if Ky'ara hadn't already stolen his heart. Still, it felt so unfair that Myrnai had been forced to give up her love and her life for that spoiled rich girl.
Ky'ara didn't deserve any of it. Lauryn sneered to herself, thinking of how broken the girl had been over the slightest possibility that Taren might have picked someone other than her. How was it possible that someone so weak had become the crystal's chosen and somehow won the trust of the organization? Myrnai trusted her too, a quiet voice chided her. And look where that got her! Lauryn argued with herself. Tears pricked at her eyes and she dashed them away angrily. Without Myrnai, she was alone, just like always.
A part of her recognized that she was exaggerating the situation. She had friends she’d made during the winter they’d spent in Doraicolé. And what about Joran? He told you that you weren’t alone anymore...She shoved the thought away. She couldn't talk to Joran about this; he felt an obscene level of loyalty towards Ky'ara. No one else in the organization knew her well enough to offer any real comfort either...well, maybe Sukylar, but he was always off with that Elysian woman who'd tried to kill him. Tears ran unchecked as her grief overwhelmed her, and Lauryn ran blindly back toward her tent.
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