by Amanda Twigg
I’m sorry, but Oakham shared a Soul memory and it drained his body of life. Ugh!
Gathering the dregs of her energy, she tracked the Warrior’s form, only catching up as he vanished over the city wall. She leaned over the edge and spotted him scrambling down a ladder that ran all the way to the ground. Full night had spread like a smothering ink blot, but frost glistened on the rungs where his aura light touched. She stared after him, mystified as to why he would leave the city. Behind her was trouble, and down the ladder was…she didn’t know, but she had to trust Thisk. She edged around and clambered down. Cracking surface ice welcomed her at the bottom, and her boots sank into chilling mud.
It took a moment for her to absorb what that meant. For the first time in her life, she was away from the base that protected her from danger. This was where the council sent soldiers who committed serious crimes. She peered into the gloom, only seeing clouds of white from her heavy breaths. Her Soul sight finally picked out Thisk’s shape, so she gathered her courage and followed him into the forest. The route took her down a narrow, winding trail with ice-topped mud slicks framing the path. Even if she lost the Warrior now, there was only one direction to follow. Dwelling on mud slugs, wild animals, and exile, she started out on her trek.
Around one bend, complete darkness waited. Trees rustled and branches creaked, but she saw nothing.
I wanted adventure, but this is ridiculous.
She wondered if she had the nerve to retrace her steps. She’d known trouble in the city, but any fear she’d experienced felt miniscule to what she felt now. She was alone in the remote lands, and it raised a terror in her gut that she couldn’t even name.
If Thisk doesn’t come back? If…. Oh, gods of the mist.
A glow sprang to life a short distance ahead. Not an aura glow but the flickering spark of true fire. It had to be Thisk. She strode toward the flame.
Stars reappeared as she stepped into a forest clearing, and the source of the light warmed her heart. The glow shone from a window in a small, low building. Of course Thisk would have hideouts here in the wilds; she should have expected that.
She approached the hut, relieved and tired. After working a latch on the odd-shaped door, the panel swung open. Warmth and blessed light leaked out, but she didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. She scrambled inside and turned to bar the door against the invading wind. Once the air stilled, she looked around.
Clutter made it impossible to take in the room’s contents, but a fired-up stove and two blazing wall torches warmed her heart as much as her body. A single bed on the side wall looked welcoming beyond reason, but Thisk hadn’t claimed it. He sat on the floor against the back wall with an unsheathed sword on his lap. His position gave him a view of the door, but he stared at the stove’s flames, as if they held all the answers to his woes.
Landra shuddered at his unblinking and emotionless gaze. Her jaw worked, but there were no right words. She made for the bed and emptied a water flask Thisk had left on the pillow. After lugging a dried food sack off the covers and brushing away crumbs, she flung herself down. Still fully clothed, her body started to warm, but her dread stayed cold and deep. Will my life ever be the same?
Thisk’s piercing words came to her, filling the room. “Quite a first day, Chief Elect Hux.”
Of all the ranks he’d used to address her so far, none had sounded so low.
Chapter 22
Exhaustion kept Landra’s nightmares away. The smell of burning meat roused her, and she cracked open her eyes. Mid-morning sun rays streamed through the windows.
A need to relieve herself urged her from the bed, but if she’d thought her body was stiff yesterday, today it locked into a solid sheet of pain. She rolled to a stooped version of standing and watched Thisk crack several eggs into a pan. He’d already damped down the torches to two smoldering sticks, but the stove’s warmth cozied the cabin’s single room.
She tried making sense of the contents, taking in the array of swords and bows, which rested across wires at the ceiling and the heaped clutter on the floor. Shuffling through the mess, she stubbed her toe against a discarded axe shaft. The chaos crowded her like a set of ill-fitting boots.
“Thisk?”
He glanced at her for the first time since the temple visit, his eyes dark with accusation.
“Is there somewhere to wash? I…” There was no easy way for her to say that her bladder was full. “I need…”
He set his pan off the heat, opened the door, and gestured to the forest with an open palm.
Landra sighed. “I guess I’ll hold it.”
Breakfast consisted of thick porridge, unidentified meat, and eggs. They stood while they ate, the thick silence hanging like a barrier between them. Tension clamped Landra’s jaw tight enough to make chewing hurt. She spooned a few scoops of porridge before putting her dish down.
She wanted to explain. Surely, if he knew what had happened, he would understand. Wasn’t it him who had told her to experience history? He’d also told her to stay on the temple path, and she suspected he would never forgive her for that disobedience. His simmering anger swamped her with silence and disregard.
“What should we do now?” she asked.
“You’re not fit to do anything. I’m going hunting.”
He turned aside, slinging his empty dishes into a bucket. As he padded against the cold, Landra sought for an explanation she could share, but the Warrior looked too angry to listen. He slung a bow over his shoulder and started to leave, but he paused at the door.
“Hux?”
“Yes?”
“Stay in the cabin and fasten the latch while I’m gone. Can you manage that?”
“What happened in the temple wasn’t my fault. I—”
The door closed, cutting off her words. She folded her arms across her sleep-creased uniform and peered out the window. Thisk disappeared into the trees. With him out of the way, she sneaked outside to relieve herself.
This disobedience was your fault, Thisk. Would it hurt you to give an order I can follow?
As she leaned back in the shrub, with her trousers stretched around her ankles, an animal wail rose in the forest. Tremors shuddered through her body, splattering dark urine on her pants.
“Shelk to the mist and shelk, shelk, shelk!” Not for the first time, she wished Winton would arrive and put her on report. At least that would feel like normal trouble. She pulled her soggy clothes to order and chased inside, making sure to set the latch.
“There you go, Thisk,” she said as the metal bar dropped into place.
Trying to make sense of the mess in the ranger hut, she scanned the room again. It looked no better in daylight. In her head, she wanted to tidy, but her body disagreed, so she limited herself to rummaging through the storage sacks marked “clothing supplies.”. There was little suitable for her, but she found trousers that would have to do. She fastened a belt to hold the large waistband in place, and she rolled up the bottoms to ensure she wouldn’t trip. She eased the jacket and shirt off her shoulders to apply Gren’s salve. By the time she’d finished, sticky patches covered her body, shoulders, and neck, but there was no way she could reach her back. The ointment gave some relief, but her exhaustion and pain went deeper than any cream could touch, so she replaced her creased shirt rather than dirty a new one and rolled back onto the bed. As she snuggled against the chill, her sleepy gaze took in the dirty dishes and soiled trousers.
“The room will fail inspection, anyway,” she muttered to the walls before fleeing awareness.
In her waking moments over the next days, the enormity of events sank in. She’d gained a promotion to chief elect, indulged in a magical Soul memory, met her dead great-grandfather, witnessed Oakham’s death, alienated the Warrior Fourth, and left the city. It was enough to send her back to sleep, but dreams of her father’s disappointment stole her rest.
She couldn’t imagine what everyone must think of her unusual absence. Her friendship with Baylem wouldn’t
shield her from the girl’s gossip, and without facts, the rumors were likely to descend into the absurd.
Thisk came and went, keeping the fire stoked, the water barrel full, and food on the table, all while Landra huddled in her miserable half-sleep. On her sixth day in the cabin, she awoke to find the Warrior looming at her bedside.
“We train today,” he said. “It will be outside, so prepare what you need.”
Those were more words than he’d spoken since the temple incident, so Landra stumbled out of bed. Her muscles moved easier now, and she guessed her bruises had faded, but there was no mirror to know for sure. She stretched her body, washed it with water from the barrel, and donned a uniform of supple leathers. The double-layered wrap-over style provided surprising warmth, and it allowed her to secure her long trousers tight around her ankles.
“What weapon should I bring?” She chose some outer garments and pulled on fresh boots.
“None.”
“Not even the Collecter?” Landra had slept, eaten, and lived with the knife on her back, ever since her promotion.
Thisk ground his teeth before nodding, but the dark glint in his eye said she didn’t deserve the weapon. He led her through the forest along animal trails and finally stopped in an open area where the wind sheeted sideways. She pulled the hood of her newly acquired cloak tighter and peered at the city wall through the branches. Home was closer than she’d realized.
As the Warrior set his weapons down and assumed a fighting pose, his fierce glare silenced any words she might offer. She set her own cloak aside and matched his stance.
Thisk launched a kick to her ribs before she had chance to settle. It wasn’t an illegal move, but the manner of his delivery pushed regulations to the limit. Landra fell to one knee, hugged her side, and groaned. She knew better than to protest and considered staying down. Instead, she eased to her feet and found a stronger fighting position to wait for his next strike. Clearly, he needed to fight the anger out of his system.
Strike he did, and with all his Warrior strength. She brought defensive moves into play, twisting free when she could, dancing out of reach, and stepping close if the chance arose. Scrapping could have saved her some hits, but she didn’t know how the Warrior would react to her unorthodox style, so she took the pummeling. A kick to the back of her knee brought her down again.
“You’re making a shelking awful job of being chief elect.”
She reclaimed her feet to face him, her own anger swelling. What would she learn from this training, except how to survive pain?
“And whose fault is that?” she asked. “I said we should avoid the temple.”
“If you’d followed orders and stayed to the path, it wouldn’t have mattered. We should be home in the hall now.”
It was a relief to hear him talk, even if it was to argue.
“Yes, well, I couldn’t stay on the path, so it doesn’t matter how long you punish me. I can’t be sorry.”
“What do you mean you couldn’t?”
She had no way of answering without admitting her magic. “I just couldn’t, Thisk.”
A low growl rumbled in his throat. “Great answer. Tell me, Hux, you defied me, killed the last sentry, and invited civil war. Was it worth it?”
Landra had no way to know if her new knowledge would prove useful. “I didn’t kill Oakham.” It was all she could say.
“I saw him dead in your arms, and you had a knife in your hand.”
“Yes, he died and I happened to be there, but I wasn’t responsible for what happened. That was his sacrifice to make. Look, it’s no good being angry with me. This is your fault.”
“Remember who you’re speaking to, citizen.” His fists coiled in readiness.
Landra dropped her defenses. If he wanted to damage her, she would prefer it was over with.
“I’m sorry, but the temple visit was everything I feared,” she said. “That old sentry had magic and the sight. He saw red in my aura and…”
Thisk’s disgust-stricken stare silenced her next words. The seed of resentment festered deep in her people, and she was certain her face had looked the same when Oakham had suggested his plan. Sharing a Soul memory was as far from being a Warrior as she could imagine and even further from being chief elect.
She braced, dreading the impending blow. If only he could beat the magic out of her body. She would stay down this time.
The Warrior raised his fist and thinned his lips, as if fighting to contain his horror. They held there for a long time before he roared out a breath. “Hux? Hux?”
He didn’t expect an answer.
“You brought the Collector?” he asked.
“Yes, but—”
“Give it to me.”
Landra reached for her knife and offered it over. With an expert flick of his wrist, he grabbed it and stashed it in his belt.
Father had given Landra the weapon and had expected her to keep it, so she glared at the carved handle that showed at Thisk’s waist.
“Don’t share the sentry’s words with anyone,” he said. “I wish you hadn’t told me what he said. Could you have misunderstood his meaning?”
Landra wanted to deny her magic, but she couldn’t lie. She shook her head.
“After all my orders, I can’t believe you indulged in the darkest aspect of our past, citizen. What were you thinking?”
His words made Landra feel dirty. “You used the Collector for its magical properties.”
“I told you before that accessing power and growing magic are different beasts. If I’d known, I would have never shown you the hethra. You shouldn’t have spoken to anyone in the temple.
“I’m sorry.”
“And how will that help? Magic might be overlooked in an average cadet. The mist knows I probably have some shading myself, but our army will never trust it in a chief elect.”
He wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know. She could have told him how little red colored his Soul, but it didn’t seem like the time. At least her visit with Oakham had allayed one fear: The old soldier hadn’t met anyone else who saw auras, so his passing meant she was safe from further discovery. Still, resentment at bearing this burden turned her anger cold. Didn’t Thisk know she would cut out the magic if there was a way?
“Don’t get me exiled yet,” she threw back at him. “I did what I had to do, and you’re going to have to trust me.”
“How can I, Hux?”
Landra gathered herself to her full height. “This isn’t a polite request, Warrior Ranger Fourth Thisk. This is an order from your chief elect.”
He tilted his head and moved his mouth as if rolling a sour ball over his tongue. His curly hair hung around his face, hiding his eyes, and she worried if she’d overplayed her non-existent hand. Trust couldn’t be demanded. It had to be earned, and who was she to expect his loyalty? Now this course was set, she had to ignore the way her stomach heaved.
It was hard to decide whether her mention of Oakham’s vision had been a slip or a desperate need to share the problem. Either way, she’d risked all by divulging a tiny part of her secret.
Will you report me? What if…? There were too many dreadful outcomes to imagine.
After a disrespectful pause, Thisk relaxed his fists and came to attention.
“You are my chief elect, so I will withhold judgement—for now.”
It was barely acceptance. She couldn’t expect more under the circumstances.
“But do you know just how much trouble we’re in?” he asked.
“A lot?”
“I violated an agreement between Chief Hux and the Templers by coming to your rescue.”
“I didn’t need rescuing.”
“Yes, well, you’d been a long time, and I couldn’t have known that; however, it happened. There’s no way we can predict the outcome or whether they’ll bring you up on murder charges for that stunt you pulled. I still haven’t decided whether to take you back to base or to the remote lands.”
She
eyed the city walls, her body loosening at the thought of never going home. Uncertainty had replaced the edge of anger in Thisk’s tone, and nothing could have worried her more. What had begun as an adventure had turned into a disaster. She rolled her wind-dried lips together, imagining what it would be like to leave. Dannet filled her thoughts first, and she wished he were by her side. None of this was fair—not for her and not for Thisk.
“If I stay out here, could you go back?”
“Are you trying to save me, cadet?”
She offered a shy nod.
“Nice gesture. Late, but nice. It’s still not an option. Death will find you here on the first true winter’s day—probably sooner—and I pledged my service to you. Besides, I broke the treaty. Who says I won’t be exiled for that?”
Landra had wanted to do the right thing, but relief pushed a thin grin to her face. She didn’t want to face her troubles alone. “So, what do we do?”
His answer took longer this time. “We’ll train out here as if you’re going to compete in the championships as the chief elect. It will give me time to think.”
“And a chance for things to settle in the city.”
His grimace showed his doubts, and there seemed little else to say. They’d reached a better understanding now, and it was her turn to trust him.
Chapter 23
Landra suffered fewer injuries once they worked toward a single purpose, but that didn’t mean that she was pain-free or that the tension between them eased.
Thisk set his palm out, level with his chest. “Your foot needs to reach here.”
She kicked toward his raised hand, but her boot stopped short of the target.
“You’re moving once my foot gets close.”
“Obviously. I don’t want my hand damaged, but you’re not making the target anyway.”
“We’ve been at this for ages, Thisk. Can we do knife work now?”
