They reached the top of the hill and kept going. The downhill slope should have given Tavi relief, but her legs felt like overcooked broccoli stalks, and she didn’t know if she could make it to the bottom. You have to, she told herself. They were running toward a large, wooded area, and it might be their only chance of escape.
Her feet slammed into the ground, then back up, over and over.
CRACK. The hand cannon sounded again, and the shock of it broke Tavi’s concentration. One of her feet tangled with the other, and she fell hard.
“One of them fell!” a voice behind her cried.
Tavi got up, tasting blood, and ran again. But she heard two guards speaking and running behind her. Likely these weren’t the ones who had taken the shot; instead, they were focused on running. And they were closing the gap.
Another shot sounded, but the hand cannon wasn’t what scared Tavi the most. She knew the chances of them hitting a moving target at night were low, and her all gift would protect her anyway. The two men running behind her were more frightening than any weapon. If she fell again, they could pick her up without her magic protecting her. They could probably even grab her while she ran, as long as they were gentle about it. She could hear their steps behind her, and she wanted to scream.
She’d almost made it to the woods, where the rest of the Golds had already disappeared, when Tullen ran out of the trees. He was flying, fast as ever, and Tavi reached out her arms.
He reached out too, and in the time it took him to sweep her up and turn around, the footsteps behind her moved even closer. But she was being carried by the one person who could outrun a whole team of royal guards. In seconds, she and Tullen caught up with the others in the trees.
Tullen slowed, though Tavi wanted to shout at him to keep going. But they had to stay together. They weren’t done yet. Two guards’ voices still sounded behind them.
“Light your way,” Tullen said. Over the next minute, the forest was lit by magic from Narre’s and Ash’s hands, Sall’s head, and Wrey’s and Sanno’s eyes. Tavi hated the light, but she knew they had to avoid the rocks and roots beneath their feet. Tullen’s stride gift led him over obstacles easily, but everyone else needed a little help. Behind the Golds, one of the guards cried out, and Tavi knew he’d likely fallen.
As a group, they wove between trees and hopped a stream. Tavi reactivated her hearing gift. “Just one still behind us,” she said.
“We need to hide,” Tullen said. “Before he catches up.”
Stopping was the last thing Tavi wanted to do, but she knew he was right. All of them but Tullen were exhausted from days of too much walking and too little sleep. They were running from a man who undoubtedly had far more energy than they did. The Golds all released their magic and stopped running. Tullen finally set Tavi down. There was no time to find a good hiding place, so they stepped into the trees, staying as quiet as they could.
But the guard was persistent. Perhaps he had a hearing or scent gift; he seemed to have an uncanny ability to stay on their tails. Tavi heard his footsteps growing closer. Closer still.
And then she saw him, a hulking, shadowed figure, stalking them like he was a cat. Tavi forced her breaths into shallow silence. He was walking right toward the tree where Tullen stood, and she considered how she might stop him. She sent her magic into the earth and was about to try to shake it, hoping it would frighten him off or at least make him drop his weapon.
She didn’t get the chance. Wrey stepped out of her hiding spot and said, “Hello.”
The man turned her way, lifting his hand cannon like a club. But he had no chance to swing it as he gazed into Wrey’s glowing, gray eyes and fell to the forest floor.
They walked, staying silent for the next half hour, just in case. But they heard no one else, and eventually, they reached open ground again. Finally, Tavi asked Tullen the question she couldn’t get out of her mind. “Why did you tell Narre not to open the wagon?”
“Because I only had to listen for a few seconds to realize Camalyn was in labor.”
Tavi’s mouth dropped open at the news. Their plan had been thwarted by a baby? It had been a good plan, too. Simple, but good. While the Golds found a safe place to hide, Tullen would have taken Relin’s and Camalyn’s sleeping bodies, one at a time, to Oren. It wasn’t that far for Tullen’s gifted feet. The remaining safety officers in Oren were loyal to Les Andisis and the resistance. They would have been willing to keep the king and queen captive for as long as necessary. Tavi had been certain that with the king and queen out of the picture, the Golds would find a way to get rid of Konner. And when all three of the new rulers were gone, surely Cormina could be rebuilt.
Tullen’s voice brought her back to the present. “I know we may have to do some things we don’t want to do in the coming days. But we have to draw the line somewhere. We don’t know what effect it would have on a baby for its mother to be rendered magically unconscious during labor. And if Camalyn’s labor had continued while she slept, I don’t know if I could have safely carried her to Oren.”
Behind them, Sanno spoke. “It might have been our only chance. We should have proceeded. All of Cormina is more important than one child. But it’s too late now.”
Tavi ignored the words and told Tullen, “You did the right thing.”
Camalyn closed her eyes, trying not to cry. The pain was terrible, so much worse than it had been at first. They’d left that little town when her labor had stalled, but it had started again within hours.
Konner had refused to stop. He’d only changed his mind when Camalyn had instructed her own wagon’s driver to stop the wagon for as long as necessary. A little while later, the other two wagons had returned and joined them.
Another pain hit Camalyn, and she cried aloud. When it passed, she said, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not necessary to be quiet,” Ellea said. “Make as much noise as you need to. You’re doing so well, Camalyn.”
Camalyn knew many women were loud during labor. She’d have felt more comfortable if she were at home or in a midwife house. Instead, here she was, giving birth in a wagon on the side of some country road, with Konner and the royal guards nearby. They couldn’t hear proof of her weakness. She told herself she’d stay silent until the baby came.
But when the next contraction began, something was different. She didn’t scream or cry; she groaned. Loudly, the sound forcing itself out.
Ellea said, “My dear, do you want to push?”
So that’s what this feeling is. Of course it is. “Yes,” she said.
Ellea smiled. “Then push.”
After that, everything was different. With every pain, Camalyn felt she was doing something productive, like there was a reason for the agony. Ellea told her to get into whatever position felt comfortable, and Camalyn ended up squatting. Ellea sat in front of her, offering her shoulders for Camalyn to grasp. Relin stayed next to Camalyn, giving her drinks of water and occasional encouragement.
In between contractions, Camalyn silently reflected that she should probably feel embarrassed. She was completely naked. She was sweaty, and she bellowed like a cow with every push. But instead of shame, she felt strength. There was freedom in being released from her lace and velvet, in having only one crucial objective: bringing life into the world.
Her strength, however, waned as her pushing continued. “When will it be done?” she cried when a particularly long contraction had just passed.
“It will be done when your baby is ready to come,” Ellea answered. “Everything is going perfectly. You’re so strong.”
And at last, Camalyn gave up on being silent. Her voice matched the intensity of her effort as she gave one great push and felt her child’s head emerge, assisted by Ellea’s hands. It was terrible and wonderful, the pain and pressure and purpose. Then the contraction stopped, and Camalyn had the utterly indescribable experience of feeling a child half inside her body and half out. Ellea and Relin helped her sit, giving her legs a break from the squ
at.
As soon as she’d sat back on her stack of blankets, her husband turned to her, his eyes wide. “It’s facing the sun.”
Camalyn let out a breathy cry, covering her mouth with both hands. She didn’t say a word, letting the news sink in. Relin looked ecstatic and Ellea pleased, but Camalyn’s initial excitement quickly transformed into uncertain numbness.
The next pain overtook her, and her husband helped her rise back into a squat. Camalyn pushed, and Ellea guided the rest of the child out of its mother’s body. The old midwife smiled, tears in her eyes, as she handed the baby to Camalyn. “Your son,” she said.
Joy, unlike any she’d felt before, rushed into Camalyn as she took her baby and sat back, holding his slippery little body against her chest. “Oh, my son.” She looked at Relin, who was grinning. “Our son,” she said.
“Shall I do the blessing breath?” Ellea asked, reaching out her arms.
Camalyn looked in Ellea’s shining eyes and began to cry. “I don’t know.”
Ellea tilted her head to one side. “We must do it soon, or it will be too late.”
Through her tears, Camalyn asked, “But what if his magic—what if it’s gray?”
Understanding filled Ellea’s countenance.
“You don’t want him to have gray magic?” Relin asked.
Camalyn looked at her husband and shook her head, holding her son even closer. “Do you?”
Relin paused and looked down. “I don’t know,” he said.
They both looked to Ellea. She took a deep breath, then said, “Magic is Sava’s gift to us. It’s been . . .” She paused, as if considering her words. “It’s been damaged in recent years. But if Sava brought this child into the world facing the sun, it is because Sava wants to give him a gift. I think I should give your son his blessing breath. But I’ll only do so with your permission.”
Camalyn turned back to Relin. She looked at him for several seconds, but his face was blank. Finally, without a word, she handed her son to Ellea.
Ellea held him with gentle reverence. “Sun-blessed child,” she said, “in the name of Sava, who giveth the breath of life, I give thee the breath of blessing.”
Camalyn’s breath caught as Ellea’s mouth went over the baby’s mouth and nose. The sight was disturbingly beautiful. The midwife’s breath entered the child’s body, and his little lungs expanded.
Her own breaths shallow, Camalyn watched her son’s chest. It wasn’t long before it began to glow.
Camalyn cried so hard that she couldn’t speak. She watched the light move from her son’s chest to his hands. A light of pure, shimmering gold.
Chapter Forty-Two
It is difficult writing these letters, not knowing if they will reach you. But if this one does, dear, may you feel the love behind the ink.
And then may you pick up your own pen and find a way to answer me! My deepest desire is to see your face and hear your voice, but I would settle for reading your words.
- Sharla Stemming to Colonel Kav Stemming, from Year One: Correspondence in the Corminian Kingdom
After their failed attempt to take Relin and Camalyn, the Golds knew they had to be even more cautious. Sanno speculated that none of the guards would leave the royal caravan to hunt the Golds, as that would require them to admit to Konner they’d seen intruders and then lost them.
The Golds hoped he was right, but they weren’t taking any chances. They stayed off the roads when they traveled, determining it wasn’t even safe for Sall to enter towns to get information. They would continue on to the Meadow, hoping an opportunity presented itself to confront the Grays before then.
However, frustration and exhaustion slowed them down. After encountering the Grays, they wanted to make it to the Meadow in three days. But one night, they all slept ten hours straight, losing several hours of walking time. They were taking more breaks, too, and walking more slowly. Three days turned into four.
The trip reminded Ash of his days on the run, right after he’d killed his wife. He’d traveled alone, panicked, trying to stay away from people but also stealing food whenever he could. He’d gotten so tired that one morning, he’d gone to sleep in a cornfield and hadn’t woken until evening, his neck and face burned by the autumn sun.
This journey didn’t feel as desperate as that one. He wasn’t sure why; he was in more danger now than he had been then. More people were looking for him, and if Konner found him, Ash wouldn’t face life in prison like he would have after his first crime. Konner would kill him; Ash would be lucky if it was quick.
Perhaps this journey felt safer because he was part of a group. They weren’t friends, exactly; Ash didn’t expect any of them to be his friend after all he’d done. But they involved him in their plans. They listened to him. They protected him as one of the team.
Now it was an hour past dark on their tenth day of travel since leaving the farm. The Golds had skirted wide around several large, weed-infested fields, a sight that had made Tullen bow his head and wipe his eyes. Now, they walked nearly to the edge of the forest and peeked through the trees. Past a narrow piece of open land, the tall walls of the Meadow’s western border rose before them.
They had a plan for infiltrating the community. Gazing at the Meadow fence, they discussed whether to implement their plan immediately or get some rest first. Quite an argument was raging when Ash said, “I’ll do better if I sleep.” That was all it took; they walked back into the trees and found a place to lie down.
They only wanted to rest for a few hours, and this time, they didn’t oversleep. Sanno woke them all while it was still the middle of the night. Ash sat up and rubbed his eyes, wishing for a cup of hot tea. Or maybe an entire pot.
“Let’s get started,” he said.
Two nights before, Sanno had sneaked into a barn and stolen a shovel. Ash took it with a rueful smile. He’d used his touch gift to create beautiful pottery for years. How was it that now his primary skill was tunnel digging? After finishing the tunnel into the black powder storage building, he’d sworn he would never dig another. And then he’d broken that promise in the catacombs. It had been a joy, creating that tunnel with the help of Ven and so many others.
This time, Ven was gone. But Ash would have help from the other Golds. And the tunnel didn’t need to be long; in this spot, the Meadow fence was close to the forest. Tullen said there was a wooded area inside the fence where the tunnel would terminate.
Ash activated his magic. Kovus, it hurt. Every time. He’d always hoped he would get used to it. No such luck. For years, he’d thought of gray magic as some sort of reward. These days, the truth was clear: His magic was his penance. The gray glow ensured he’d never forget the blood on his hands. The pain forced him to relive the violence he’d wrought. Grabbing the shovel, he began to dig, gritting his teeth and embracing the pain.
He quickly encountered stone. It was close to the surface here. Narre arrived and began crushing it. Ash stopped digging and instead cleared debris. Soon, the tunnel was too long for him to easily toss out shovelfuls of rock. So Ash used his glowing hands to pick up Narre’s rock pieces and stack them on a blanket. Each time he piled a large mound on the blanket, Tullen folded up the edges and carried it off like it weighed nothing.
They all ended up being thankful for the stone; it provided natural support for the tunnel. No need to fell trees and create timbers as they’d discussed doing. Occasionally, Narre hit resistance and shifted their route until her magic worked again. Ash had always hated the limits of resistance; now he appreciated its protective nature. Strange how his perspective on many things had changed since leaving Konner’s sway.
Narre, Ash, and Tullen all needed occasional magical breaks. Ash could feel the impatience of the rest of the group during those times, and it matched his own anxiety. He was ready to see Konner again, to do whatever he could to stop the man.
The sun rose and crawled across the sky, even as the tunnel grew under the earth. By the end of the day, they’d reached the fe
nce. Ash was exhausted, and he sighed in relief when Narre declared she had to sleep.
Early the next day, they resumed their work. By mid-morning, they were creating the vertical exit shaft. Soon Ash could use his shovel again; the only thing left to clear was the dirt above the bedrock. After the last of the damp soil rained down on his head, he looked up, smiling at the bright sun directly overhead.
Tavi tossed and turned. None of them had been sleeping enough, so they were all getting some afternoon rest. Then they’d eat a light dinner and take another nap. They wouldn’t enter the Meadow until the middle of the night. But with a perfectly good tunnel waiting a short walk away, Tavi was too excited to sleep. She pulled her legs up to her chest then stretched them out. Nothing was comfortable.
“Are you doing some sort of reclined calisthenics over here?”
Tavi flipped over and found Tullen kneeling next to her, grinning.
“I can’t sleep,” she said.
“Me either. Want to go on a run?”
Tavi wanted nothing more. Moments later, she was flying with Tullen through the forest. His forest.
“You must have so many memories of this place,” she said.
“I’ll show you one of my favorite parts.”
He veered left, following a path Tavi couldn’t discern. A few minutes later, they reached a creek and ran alongside it. It ran nearly as fast as they did.
“Close your eyes,” Tullen said. He gave her a second then asked, “Are they closed?”
“Yes.”
A few seconds later, he halted. “I’m putting you down, but don’t open your eyes yet.”
Tavi’s feet hit the forest floor. She felt the odd sense of unsteadiness that came from not seeing the world around her. But she could hear it: Loud, rushing water, in front of her and to the right.
She felt Tullen move to stand next to her. “Open them,” he said.
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