by Claire Frank
She let go and stepped back, holding her arms up to show them she wouldn’t attack. Demmen struggled to his feet, rolling his shoulder, and shot Rhis a glare. Maida stared, her gaze lingering on the knives Rhis wore openly at her belt and strapped to her leg.
“Send the boy with me, and I will do everything in my power to protect him,” Rhis said, flicking her gaze to Maida. “Keep him, and you all die. It’s that simple. I’ll give you a few minutes to decide, but I don’t think you have much time.”
She turned and walked out of the small house. Demmen’s voice carried through the door, followed by Maida’s muffled response. Rhis had done what she could. If they continued to refuse, she’d simply take the boy. It wasn’t ideal, but she needed him if she had any chance at going home.
Rhis’s back prickled and she turned to find Asher peeking from around the barn. His hair was unkempt, and bits of straw clung to his tunic. He watched her with the wariness of a prey animal, as if he would bolt if she made a sudden move. At the sound of the door behind her, he shrank back out of sight.
Demmen stepped out and crossed his arms while Maida stood behind him. “I can’t say if you’ve told us the truth,” he said. “It may be you have. But we’ll protect our own. He’s our son, and we’ll keep him safe. You can be on your way now.”
Rhis opened her mouth to speak, but Maida caught her eye. Her face was pleading, desperate. She shook her head and bit her lip, her eyes tight. Rhis gave her a subtle nod, then turned to Demmen. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I tried.”
She turned and walked back to her horse, casting a glance over her shoulder. Asher watched from behind the barn, his bright eyes wide. She mounted her horse and turned down the path that would take her to the road, feeling Demmen’s eyes boring into her back. As soon as she was out of sight, she dismounted and led her horse a short distance, finding a comfortable spot amid the grasses to wait.
It wasn’t long before Maida came into view, walking down the path with a bundle in her arms, Asher following close behind. Rhis stood as they approached.
“You don’t have much time,” Maida said, thrusting a jumble of blankets and clothes into Rhis’s arms. “Demmen went back to the fields. He may never forgive me for this, but I’d never forgive myself if Asher died.”
“You’re doing the right thing,” Rhis said, trying to sound reassuring.
Maida’s chest heaved with a deep sob and she stepped in close, lowering her voice. “Oh, gods forgive me. Listen, there’s something you need to know. He’s not our son, not by birth.”
The revelation wasn’t surprising. The boy looked nothing like them, but Maida seemed to think it was news of great import, so Rhis raised her eyebrows. “Then how did he come to be in your care?”
Maida glanced over her shoulder. Asher hovered nearby, his eyes darting around. “He was just a baby. His mother came wandering down our path, clutching him in a blanket. We took them in, but she didn’t live very long. She had an injury that went bad. I never knew where she came from—somewhere to the east, I suppose.” She reached into one of her apron pockets and pulled out a smooth stone. “He had this with him. She kept him wrapped up with this tucked inside the blankets. I don’t know what it is, but it kept him warm. It’s all I have left that was hers.”
As Rhis took the rock, she was surprised at its weight. Although it fit in the palm of her hand, it felt dense, weighing more than it appeared it should. A strange symbol was carved on one side, a rune that Rhis didn’t recognize.
“She gave Asher to us and, with her last breath, she begged us to care for him. I’ve loved him like my own since that very day. I don’t know what she was fleeing from, only that she trusted me to keep him safe. But I know when I’m outclassed. Daggers and assassins. We’re nothing but farmers. Maybe she should have left him with someone better.” Maida took a shuddering breath. “I couldn’t bear it if he died, so I’m passing his care on to you. For his dead mother, and for myself, who has been as good a mother to him as I know how. He’s yours now.”
Rhis stared at her, holding the stone and the bundle of his belongings. Maida stood tall, her shoulders set; tears fell unchecked down her cheeks, but her eyes were resolute. Unsure of what to say, Rhis tucked Asher’s things into her saddlebag.
Maida drew Asher into her arms and rested her cheek on the top of his head. “I love you, son. Your father and I both love you. Maybe someday, when all this is over, you can come home. But for now, you need to go with her. She’ll protect you.” She squeezed her eyes shut as she clutched the boy, then pulled back and put her hands on both sides of his face. Asher’s lip trembled and his wide eyes flicked to Rhis, then back to his mother.
“I don’t want to go,” he said.
“I know. I don’t want you to go either,” Maida said, her voice breaking. “But you aren’t safe here. I have to do what’s best for you, even if it isn’t what I want. I’ll see you again, son.”
“You promise?” he said with a sniff.
“Yes, I promise,” Maida said.
Rhis stepped forward. “We need to go. We have a lot of ground to cover.”
Maida nodded and hugged Asher, kissing the top of his head. “Go on now, Ash.”
Asher disentangled himself from his mother’s arms. Rhis led him to the horse and helped him up onto the back of the saddle, then turned back to Maida.
“Where are you going to take him?” Maida asked, her voice thick with desperation.
“I can’t tell you that,” Rhis said. “Someone will come looking for him. You and your husband really should leave.”
Maida opened her mouth as if to speak, but only shook her head. Rhis turned back to the horse and hoisted herself into the saddle in front of the boy. If Asher’s parents wouldn’t listen to her advice, there was nothing she could do for them. “Hold on,” she said, and Asher threaded his arms around her waist as she took the reins.
Clutching her chest with tears streaming down her face, Maida watched.
“I’ll keep him safe,” Rhis said to the woman with a nod, then turned her horse and headed over the hill.
NINE: ASHER
Asher was silent as they made their way toward Tindale. They cut across the fields to avoid the road and Rhis watched the sun, gauging their direction to make sure they stayed on course. Twice they had to circle wide when they heard the voices of farm laborers in a nearby vineyard. Until they were well away from anyone who might know Asher personally, they needed to remain unseen.
The sun sank low, disappearing behind a hill, draining the landscape of its color. Rhis chose an area with a copse of trees that would provide cover to stop for the night. The ground was still damp from the rains a few days before, but there was space for a fire, and they didn’t seem to be near enough to any of the farms that they would attract attention. She dismounted and helped Asher down, then set about setting up camp.
After Asher had gathered some wood, and a fire crackled in the center of a small clearing, Rhis pulled out a hard biscuit and tossed it to the boy. His eyes were bloodshot and his cheeks red and splotchy, but he sniffed hard and set his jaw.
“I know it isn’t much,” Rhis said, nodding toward his meager provisions, “but we’ll get a decent meal when we get into a town.”
Asher wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked away. Rhis ate, comfortable in the silence, while Asher sat staring into the fire. When she’d finished, she brushed off her hands and stood, glancing around for what would pass for an entrance to the clearing. Deciding on two trees situated roughly parallel to the distant road, she wandered over and tapped each seven times. Her shoulders relaxed, the rising sense of danger abated by her ritual, and she sat back down in front of the fire.
She pulled out one of her daggers and a small sharpening stone, and set to work on the blade. The metal made a soft swish each time she drew it across the stone, and she counted the strokes, twenty-eight on each side. Holding it up, she inspected the edge, touching it with her thumb to feel the sharpness. Asher watc
hed her work, still picking at his dinner.
After replacing the dagger, she drew out another and began to sharpen it. The steady rhythm quieted her thoughts as she counted her strokes. Asher’s voice broke the silence, and she gasped, nearly dropping her knife.
“Why do you have so many knives?”
Twenty-three. She held her breath, her eyes fixed on the fire. She’d been on twenty-three. Letting out her breath, she swished the blade five more times, then held it up to check its edge.
“What makes you think I have many?” she asked.
“You have more than those,” Asher said.
“I do.”
“Why?”
Rhis replaced the dagger and looked at the boy. “I like to be prepared.”
He took another bite of his food and Rhis turned her attention back to the care of her weapons, pulling a dagger from her boot. This one had been laced with poison, so she wiped it clean with a cloth before setting its edge to the stone.
“Are you going to kill me?”
The question took her by surprise and she paused in her work, lifting her eyes. “No.”
“But you were, weren’t you?” he asked.
“What makes you say that?”
“I heard you talking to my parents. You said you were hired to kill me.”
Rhis paused. Asher’s brow was lifted and his eyes shone in the firelight. There didn’t seem to be a good reason to lie to him. “You’re right. But I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“Should I have?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.
“No,” he said, his voice sullen. He looked down at the fire. “You didn’t tell me your name. You told my mom your name is Hava, but I don’t think you told her the truth.”
“Do you always ask so many questions?”
Asher shrugged.
“You can call me Rhis,” she said. “But I won’t always use my real name, and sometimes we won’t tell people yours. There are still people out there who want you dead, and we need to hide from them. Understand?”
He nodded. “But why? I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “It isn’t important. We just need to stop them from succeeding.”
“Where are we going?” he asked.
Rhis sighed. She hoped he wasn’t going to keep this up for the entire journey. “Altia. It’s where I live, and there is someone there I need to talk to. He can call off the contract that’s out on you.” Or, more importantly, the one that’s out on me.
“Is it far?”
She closed her eyes, trying to hold in her frustration. “Yes, it’s far.”
“I went to Tindale with my dad once,” he said. “But I guess it’s a lot farther than Tindale.”
Going back to sharpening her weapons, Rhis hoped he was finished. She was traveling with a farm child who had never been farther from home than a poor excuse for a city in the middle of nowhere. This was going to be a long journey.
***
With a sharp intake of breath and a start, Rhis woke. The fire had gone out, leaving nothing but a few flickering coals, and the sky showed the first hints of dawn. It felt as if she’d been dreaming, but she couldn’t recall the details. Pushing herself up to sitting, she stretched her back, trying to work out the ache of yet another night spent on the ground. Looking across the remains of the fire, she felt her stomach clench. Asher was gone.
Jumping to her feet, she checked for signs of his passage. He might have just risen to relieve himself, but after a quick circuit around the clearing, she knew he’d run off. His blanket was gone, but there was a clear trail back the way they had come. Muttering to herself, Rhis quickly repacked her horse and mounted, then set out to find the boy.
His path was easy to follow, but after an hour she started to wonder if he’d turned and she’d missed it. She kept her horse to a walk and studied the ground as she went. How had he gone without waking her? She never slept very deeply; he must have left without making a sound.
Rhis crested a hill and let her gaze linger on the rows of grapevines that lay spread before her, bathing in the early morning sun. A flicker of movement caught her attention. She turned, narrowing her eyes as she looked through the winding bushes.
“Asher,” she called out, dismounting. “Asher, you need to come with me. You won’t be safe if you go home.” She took a few more steps, veering toward the place she’d seen movement. “Asher.”
Like a startled bird taking flight, Asher popped up from behind a row of grapevines and ran in the other direction. Rhis darted after him, running on the other side of the plants. “Asher!”
Rhis tried to keep up, but the kid was fast. When they came to a break in the grapevines, Rhis crossed the row to get behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and ran harder, his legs flying over the ground. Rhis’s breath came fast and her legs burned, but she started to close the distance. Gaining on him, she reached out and swiped at his clothes. She missed but tried again, this time grasping the back of his tunic with her fingers. As soon as she had a grip, she yanked backward, sending him sprawling to the ground, but he rolled and sprang to his feet.
Her hand brushed his clothes again, but he dodged, his wide eyes fixed on her. She lunged, and he darted to the side. How is he doing that?
“Asher, stop.”
He took slow steps backward. “I’m going home.”
“You can’t,” she said. “If you go back, someone will come and kill you. They’ll kill your parents too.”
“Who?” he said, nearly spitting the word. “Someone like you?”
“No, not someone like me. Someone who will actually finish the damn job.”
“Why should I believe you?” he asked.
“Because I know what I’m talking about,” she said. “We’ve been over this. I’m trying to keep you alive. I can’t do that if you run away.”
Asher sniffed and picked up the bundle he had dropped. “You just wanted to take me away from them.”
Rhis shook her head. “Why would I want to take you? You’re not exactly my ideal traveling companion. If you go back, someone will kill you and your parents.”
With a quick turn, Asher dashed away. Rhis let out a sigh and quickly reached into an interior pocket, pulling out the pouch with the green stripe. She plucked a needle from the pouch and threw. The dart soared and tagged Asher on the back of his neck. He took two more steps before his legs crumpled beneath him, and he crashed to the ground in a heap.
Tucking her pouch away, Rhis walked over and put her fingers to his throat, feeling for his heartbeat. It pulsed in a steady rhythm, so she gathered him up in her arms and carried him back to her horse.
TEN: SUNHOLD
Seagulls circled in the air as Rhis and Asher made their way down the road toward Sunhold. A high wall encircled the city, pressing the buildings toward the water, although a ramshackle sprawl had grown outside the gates on either side of the road. The late afternoon sun beat down on them, baking the hard packed dirt, and making the air shimmer.
They had lost an afternoon waiting for Asher’s sickness from the dart to wear off, but the rest of the journey had been smooth. Asher had lapsed into a sullen silence, which suited Rhis well enough. At least he hadn’t tried to run again. The long days on the road passed quickly. Rhis breathed a sigh of relief when they came within sight of the port city. From Sunhold, they could take a ship across the Narobian Sea, directly to Altia. There would be new difficulties once they reached the city, but it wouldn’t be long, and she’d be home.
Nudging her horse, she led him down the road to the main gate with Asher hanging on behind. The horse kicked up little clouds of dirt, and Rhis made up her mind to splurge on a good quality inn while they waited for passage on a ship. The extra expense would be more than worth it for a hot bath and a supply of good wine.
A guard approached from the gate, looking more like a mercenary than a sentry in his mismatched boiled leather. “State your business,” he said, crossing his ar
ms and standing with his feet wide apart.
“My son and I are traveling to Altia,” Rhis answered. Asher looked nothing like her, but if pressed she would claim the father was foreign.
The guard bent his head to look behind her and narrowed his eyes as if he’d only just noticed the boy. “Where you from?”
“Tindale.”
“Names?” he asked.
“Lauris,” she said. “My son is Will.”
He pressed his lips together and took another look at Asher, then glanced behind him at the other men stationed near the gate. “Wait here.”
Rhis clutched the reins but kept her face still while the guard went to confer with his colleagues. Narrowing her eyes, she watched the guards speaking to each other and casting glances her way. Her heart rate rose and her fingers tingled with adrenaline. The men were on foot; even with the added weight of Asher, her horse would be able to make a quick escape if it became necessary—although she wanted to avoid fleeing Sunhold if she could.
“What’s wrong?” Asher said, leaning around her.
“Nothing,” she said. “Keep quiet.”
Asher sighed and squirmed in the saddle as the guard returned.
“Okay,” he said, nodding toward the gate. “Go on in.”
Rhis gave him a polite nod and urged her horse forward, careful not to let her relief show. The last thing they needed were nosy guards. The gate opened into a crowded street, the tall buildings packed tightly together.
“Where are we going?” Asher asked.
“We need a ship. I’ll book us passage to Altia, then we’ll find a place to stay.”
“I’m hungry,” he said, his voice glum.
Ignoring him, Rhis guided her horse along what she hoped was the fastest route to the harbor. A swell of people wandered up and down the streets, slowing her progress, and she tapped her fingers against the pommel in frustration. The guards had triggered her wariness, and she felt as if the eyes of every passerby studied her. She needed to avoid the notice of the local authorities and keep a low profile until they could board a ship.
