by B N Miles
“You don’t have to be strong all the time, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” she said, a touch of anger slipping into her voice. “I have to be strong all the time, or else this village will treat me like another seamstress hag that can’t throw a spear.”
Cam smiled and put an arm around her. “I don’t think anyone will treat you like that.”
“You don’t know what it’s like.” She let out a breath. “I’m sorry. This is a stupid thing to be angry about.”
“You’re always angry about it.”
“Resentful, I guess. They let me train with the men, and they’ll give me a spear and let me fight when the time comes, but I’m always an afterthought. Do you know how many times my mother has asked when I’m going to settle down and get pregnant?”
“The men don’t treat you that way.”
“No,” she said, frowning. “They don’t. They’re too busy pulling punches and staring at my chest.”
Cam grinned at her. “Can’t blame them. The chest part, at least. I don’t think I’ve ever pulled a punch with you.
She laughed and touched a hand to her cheek. “Sometimes I wish I could tell my mother I’m not interested in having babies, you know?”
Cam let his arm drop from her shoulder and he shook his head. “Come on, you want kids. I know I do.”
“Yeah?” She tilted her head and gave him a strange look. “Well, it doesn’t matter right now. We need to survive the next few days before we start thinking about having babies again.”
“Tell you what. If we get through this, you and me, we’ll have a whole kingdom’s worth of babies. How’s that sound? We’ll repopulate the village with our kids.”
She stared at him and blushed. Cam was grinning like he’d just told the best joke ever, but she didn’t smile back. “Okay,” she said, her voice small.
He opened his mouth then shut it again. He was joking, but the way she was staring at him, her cheeks red, her face serious… gods, maybe she meant it.
She leaned toward him and Cam’s heart began to beat faster. He’d always been close with Key, and there had always been a tension between them, but he just assumed it was because of their genders. She was a beautiful woman and he was a young man, of course there was bound to be some tension between them, especially when they spent so much time together.
But maybe that was wrong. Maybe whatever they had between them was unique.
Maybe Key was his.
He leaned toward her and reached out. He wasn’t sure what made him shatter the wall between their friendship and whatever that other thing was. But he touched her cheek and drew her toward him then pressed his lips against hers.
He held her in that kiss for a long moment. She kissed him back, gave a small whimper, and pressed herself hard against him. Her taste was honey and wood smoke, delicious and somehow so familiar as her lips worked against his and her tongue slid into his mouth. His cock stirred despite himself at the press of her soft, warm body, and the thought of filling her deep and getting her pregnant drifted through his mind.
But the kiss broke off and she stared into his eyes. She was about to say something, he could see it on her tongue, but she shook her hand and got to her feet.
“Key,” Cam said.
“I should get back to my family. I’ve been gone a while.”
“Right.” He nodded and felt the moment slipping away.
“It’s just that—” she started, but stopped herself. She bit her lip, shook her head, and turned away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Cam.”
“You too.”
She stalked back off through the woods and he wondered if he’d made a mistake kissing her. But no, her taste lingered on his lips, and he knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat if given a chance. She was the first thing that made him feel like there was hope in the world, and he knew he wasn’t going to let go of that anytime soon. He would need hope, anything to draw him out of the despair of losing his father, the shock of losing his village.
He leaned back, drew his furs tightly around him, then closed his eyes. He had second watch, and he needed to get some sleep if he was going to survive the next day’s march.
12
The morning broke in slow crimson across the camp. Cam stood fifty yards from the main body, his spear in one hand. He’d been watching the forest, huddled up against a tree, for the better part of four hours. The night passed with nothing but silence and wind, though he’d jumped at more than a few shadows.
People stirred from their tents, their bedrolls. He watched parents soothe their fussy children, old women stretch their legs and backs, men pick up their spears and pull their tunics on over their scraggly, unwashed heads. Dagan was marching down the line of people, barking orders and waking them up. Cam caught Dagan’s eye and nodded, and the Elder pulled away from the group to come join him in the underbrush.
“Quiet night,” Dagan said.
“Good.” Cam frowned out at the woods. “It won’t last.”
“I know it won’t. They’re back there, following us. Probably along our flanks as well.”
“How many men do you have out?”
“Six scouting, two in the back and two on either side of us. I’ve been sending Morcann ahead to check if the path is clear, and so far there’s been no obstructions.”
“How are people taking this?” Cam stood up straight and gripped his spear.
“They’re afraid.” Dagan frowned back at the camp and let out a breath. “Folks want to go back and hide in their homes, not that I can blame them. Sleeping rough like this isn’t fun or easy on anyone, and we have a few more nights of it at least. Today they’re going to have to move harder and faster than yesterday if we’re going to make good time.”
“They’ll do it,” Cam said, though he wasn’t sure he believed his own words.
“They’ll have to.” Dagan nodded to himself. “Come on. Grab something to eat, we’ve a long day coming.”
Cam followed Dagan back to the main camp and spoke with a few women he knew, encouraging them to keep up the fine work as they gathered up their supplies and prepared to move. Cam found Kenden and Indri on the back of a horse cart handing out rations and accepted his breakfast of porridge, bread, and a strip of salted beef that’d been sitting in a store house for weeks. He ate with his fingers and returned the bowl before making to turn away, but Indri caught his arm.
“I’m sorry about your father,” she said, her green eyes sparkling in the morning sun. She let her dark hair spill freely down her back, a brightly colored patchwork shawl around her shoulders. Her skirts were pleated and flowed almost down to her heavy brown boots. Her tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and Cam briefly wondered how old she was.
Indri joined the village when Cam was a young man, maybe five years ago. Like so many of the villagers, she was a refugee from the northern wars, come south to find somewhere safe to live. She became the town’s chief medicine woman, and took care of the sick and the feeble, along with mending wounds and splinting broken bones. She had smooth pale skin and was one of the most patient women he’d ever known.
“It’s okay,” Cam said. “I knew there was nothing you could do for him.”
“I had hoped you’d get to come see him again before we left. I had a burial shroud prepared, but there just wasn’t time.” She hesitated and looked away. “I left him behind, Cam.”
That stung, but he’d expected it. He touched her shoulder and smiled. “It’s okay,” he said. “The Weres will burn him for us. He would’ve liked that. Ashes scattered by his enemies.”
She laughed. “I suspect that isn’t true, Camrus.”
“Maybe not, but still.” He dropped his hand and let his eyes roam along the line of people. “He would’ve been proud of the village for moving so fast.”
“I agree. In large part thanks to you, I hear.”
“I only told the Elders what I thought was the truth.”
“You convinced Dagan and Kraed, despite Arter figh
ting back. That’s no small feat.”
“Well.” Cam shook his head. “I guess not. I just wish we’d been able to give my father the burial pyre he deserved.”
“One day, we’ll build a fire in his honor and bury the ashes in the center of the square.” Indri nodded to herself and turned back to the cart. “Keep up the good work, Camrus.”
Cam nodded and left the cart. He thought about his father back in Indri’s shop, lying on the wooden table alone, covered in his burial shroud. In better times, they would’ve sang songs and told stories and burned Galerick the Great in a massive fire until his body was ash, his spirit one with the great Urspirit. Cam would’ve gathered his father’s ashes into an urn and buried it somewhere nice, perhaps at the base of a young sapling growing close to the village.
One day, when he returned, he’d honor his father the proper way. But for now, Cam would keep going, keep fighting, and keep the village safe, just as his father would’ve wanted.
The group began to coalesce into the long column again and men stalked down the flanks, shouting out orders. The carts were drawn up, the horses pulled ahead, and slowly the mass of people began to move out only a couple of hours after sunrise. Cam was impressed by the faces he saw around him: the stony silence of the old, the uncertain but playful looks of the children, and the stoic determination from everyone else.
But only an hour after they began to move, a new commotion started at the front of the column. Voices were raised, and Cam had to push his way through a small gathering crowd to find Arter, his two sons, plus several men that favored Arter’s farms gathered in front of Dagan, Kenden, and Godug.
“Smooth or not, we’re out in the open,” Arter was saying, gesturing at Dagan. “You know as well as I do. If we’re going to be attacked, we’re easy bait out here. No Were will hesitate to jump on such a juicy chance.”
“We can’t take the carts through the woods,” Dagan countered. “Even if we could, it would slow us down. We’d have to push them out of mud every twenty yards, and we’d make barely two miles per day. Speed is of the essence here.”
“Safety is more important,” Arter snapped. “Can you not see it, you old fool?”
“I can see fine,” Dagan growled, stepping forward. Arter’s sons stiffened, clutching their spears tight in their hands.
Cam walked to stand beside the two men. “There’s no time for this,” he said.
Arter made a disgusted face. “Ah, the shaman’s brat is back. What use are you now, Camrus? Your father is dead, taking with him the only magical protection we had. And you can’t even cast a single spell. Why do you insist on getting involved in discussions that don’t include you?”
Cam tensed and he saw Arter’s sons glance at each other. He took a step closer to Arter and spoke in a low, deep growl. “I may not have my father’s magic, Arter, but I have his strength, sense, and his sword. You seem to be lacking in all of that.”
Arter glared at Cam but Dagan spoke first. “We can’t go into the woods,” he said. “The carts carry most of our supplies. I don’t know how you propose to feed the village without them.”
“Get the people to carry their own supplies,” Arter barked.
“Foolish man,” Dagan said. “The old can’t carry much, and the men are needed for protection. Who do you propose will do all this carrying? The children?”
“Get the damned women to help,” Arter said. “There are stout enough women here.”
“No woman can carry her entire household’s food rations on her back,” Camrus said. “Not without collapsing under the strain. And that ignores the single men and single women. This is foolishness, Arter. We need to get moving.”
“I told you, boy, you don’t belong here,” Arter snapped at him, keeping his voice low.
“Don’t speak to Camrus that way,” Dagan warned. “He’s still his father’s son.”
Cam stood his ground, glaring at Arter and the man’s idiot sons. He wanted the stupid Elder to make some kind of move, just to justify a little violence. Cam knew he could handle both the boys and Arter without killing anyone, and they could use a little beating to keep them in line.
But there was a crashing through the underbrush. Cam turned toward it and watched Theus pick his way through the trees, jogging fast, his spear on his shoulder. He was breathing hard when he arrived.
“Scouting,” Theus gasped. “Saw. Some. Things.” Theus panted hard and Dagan shot Arter a look before putting a hand on his back.
“Go ahead, take your time. What did you see?”
Cam stepped toward his friend, eyes narrowed. “What happened, Theus?”
“Weres. Wolves. I saw them.” He stood up, his hand clutching his spear so tightly his knuckles were white. Cam watched sweat drip down his skin and he suspected it wasn’t only from the warm morning sun and his run back to the column.
“How many?” Dagan asked.
“Only three,” Theus said. “They were stalking our rear. I saw them sniffing along the cart track.”
“Did they see you, boy?” Arter said. “Did they smell you?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t think so. I waited for them to leave then I came straight back. I think they’re following us.”
“See!” roared Arter. “I told you, damn it. They’re coming for us.”
“They’ll come whether we’re in the woods or on the trail,” Cam said, losing his patience. He turned toward Arter and stood in the man’s face, his jaw tensed and his body prepared for violence. “Whether we stay on the track or not, they’ll come. In the woods, we won’t be able to defend ourselves as well. It would be foolish to leave the path now.”
“Don’t step into my face, boy,” Arter growled and his boys gripped their spears.
“Well, well,” another voice said as Kraed came stumbling into the clearing. “Looks like you idiots are going to do all the work for the wolves.”
Cam stood there, staring down at Arter, and the Elder stared right back. He wanted the violence, wanted it bad, and this sudden realization made him back down.
These were his people. Whether he liked Arter or not, Cam’s goal was to keep him safe and alive through all this. Beating Arter and his sons wouldn’t achieve that goal, and if anything, it would leave the whole group down three warriors. They couldn’t afford that, not right now, no matter how much Cam wanted to work out some aggression on them.
“If you want my opinion—” Kraed began.
“We don’t,” Arter said.
“We’re better off on the path,” he continued. “Out there in the woods, we won’t be able to form up like Cam’s father taught everyone. But here on the path, we’ll have space to maneuver, and we can use the carts as defensive structures. The forest is madness, but the path gives us a chance.” Kraed shrugged and lifted a jug to his lips. “That’s what I think, anyway.”
Cam nodded, grateful for the man’s opinion. “I agree,” he said.
“And I agree.” Dagan nodded at Arter. “You’re free to do as you wish, but the Elders have spoken, and we continue on.” The old man turned away and began to shout again. The lead cart got moving, with Kraed sitting in the back, and the flow of people continued on.
Arter didn’t move for a long moment. He stood by the side of the path and watched the column begin to move along. His sons lingered behind him, despite Dagan pressing them to go back to their guard posts. Cam stood on the other side of the procession with Theus as he leaned on his knees and caught his breath.
“He’s going to be trouble,” Cam said.
“You’re right.” Theus stood up and groaned. “But I’m more worried about those wolves. Cam, they were huge.”
Cam nodded and looked at his friend. “They go down like any other wolf,” he said. “An arrow to its eye or a spear in the guts will finish it off.”
“I know, but still.” Theus shook his head.
“We’ll figure it out.” Cam put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go check how t
he end of the column’s doing and find Key.”
Theus nodded and followed Cam as he picked his way through the march, moving in the opposite direction of the flow. Cam thought about Key’s lips, about her body pressed close against his. He considered telling Theus about what had happened the night before, but decided to keep it to himself.
He wanted to cherish that moment. Maybe it was selfish, but that kiss was his, all his, at least for a while.
And maybe, if he held that feeling tight enough, he might get more than just one taste.
13
Cam covered the rear of the column as the sun slid past midday and began its descent along the far side of the forest. He remained twenty yards behind the slowest villagers, though he had to prod them once or twice to keep them moving. His people were used to hard work and long days spent in the fields, but marching along the cart track in the heat of the day still wasn’t comfortable.
Which Cam could empathize with. He held his father’s spear with its long bronze tip and wore his father’s old leather armor. It was only a thick, studded vest with short sleeves, hardened vambraces, and long hardened shin pads. He wasn’t sure how much it would help against a wolf, but he knew it was something at least, and better than what most men had. Cam ran his fingers down the small copper studs along the chest and traced the lines they made in the hardened leather.
It’d been a long day, but a quiet one. He watched sentries come and go from his post in the back and nodded at them without comment as they passed information up through the lines toward Dagan, Kraed, and Arter. He wondered if Arter was still pressing for his stupid plan and tried not to let the thought bother him. That was Dagan’s worry, and Cam had to focus on guard duty.
The forest pressed close against the cart track. There was enough space for six people abreast, just enough so that men and women could walk on either side of the four horse-drawn carts and keep them rolling smoothly. Their frames were made of wood and the wheels had copper reinforcing their circumference to better handle the heavy loads they had to bear. Cam knew from experience that those wheels could break under a heavy strain, but he hoped for their sake that the carts could make it another few days.
