Mark of the Mage: Scribes of Medeisia Book I

by R.K. Ryals

  Chapter 19

  Aside from the mumbling trees, Ari, and Oran, I ate my soup alone. I had been too keyed up to rest after Ari informed me of the war council. And so I sat for hours on the same log, observing as the sun set, watching the crackling flames from three different lit fires. Rebels surrounded the small pyres. It was that time of year when it remained warm, even muggy during the day, but cooled considerably at night. Crickets chirped and frogs warbled. Lightning bugs blinked in the darkness, and the full moon was just noticeable through the trees' canopy. I had attempted twice to speak to Kye and Lochlen following Ari's revelation, but they had been deep in discussion with other rebels.

  “You worry,” Oran said, and I looked over to find the wolf sitting next to me. I enjoyed his company, even though I barely knew him, but he brought attention to me. Even now, rebels were glancing in my direction, whispering behind their hands.

  “I'm in the middle of a war that was only hinted at while I was living at Forticry. Even our Archives do not mention the depth of turmoil in this country. Yes, I am worried.”

  I didn't hide my moving lips from the rebels still watching me. They knew I could speak with the forest, even if they were disturbed by it. Oran made a low growling noise in his throat as he suddenly laid his head in my lap. It startled me, and I brought my hands up, gaping down at him.

  “Wolves are affectionate with their pack. You need comfort. Take it now.”

  Oran's voice snuck its way into my heart, and I fought against the melting sensation in my chest. I was afraid if I let myself feel anything for anyone, I would kill them.

  “Fear not,” the wolf repeated.

  I lowered my hands slowly, carefully sinking my fingers into the soft fur on Oran's neck. Oran didn't move. I think he knew I was more skittish than the animals. If he'd even so much as flinched, I would have pushed him away.

  “You have a plan in your head,” the wolf said, and I looked down at him.

  “It's nothing.”

  A wordless rumble moved up through my hand and along my knees where the wolf rested.

  “What runs through your mind, Stone?”

  I looked up, meeting the occasional stares from the fires beyond. Children ran among the groups, laughing, tripping often. A few of the adults danced even though there was no music. Ena had not been exaggerating. The forest was the rebels' sanctuary. What I had in mind would threaten that.

  I dug my fingers farther into the wolf's fur. I didn't answer him, and he didn't pursue it. I just stared, my eyes moving over the groups in the night until the fires began to burn low. The running children had grown tired, some of them leaning now against each other, their eyes drooping. The rebels were beginning to thin, many of them moving to tents along the side of the clearing while others set out bedrolls near the fire. One tent was nearer the flames than the others, the flap facing away from the fires. By the figure stooping near it, I knew the tent was mine.

  “Do you need anything, miss?” a voice asked, and I shook my head, my gaze moving to Ena in the darkness.

  “No,” I said, smiling gently. “Thank you. You need not call me miss, Ena. Aside from my father, I was more a servant than I was a highborn lady.”

  Ena returned my smile, but didn't reply. I gestured at the tent. “Is that where I will sleep?” I asked.

  The woman nodded. “Those assigned on watch have already moved into the trees. One fire will be left burning low, although we usually douse them except in winter. You may find your bed when you are ready.”

  I nodded at her, and she moved away, her eyes darting to the wolf in my lap even as she backed up into the darkness just outside the fires' light.

  Oran lifted his head. “Sleep now,” he said as he stood. “The forest never sleeps. Where your human protection may occasionally fail, ours never will.”

  I watched him as he slunk toward the trees.

  “Mighty words,” I teased.

  The wolf's eyes caught the low firelight, causing his pupils to become an orange-yellow mix, eerie in the darkness.

  “Mighty indeed,” he said before turning, his silver fur disappearing into the foliage. I shivered, listening as the trees whispered. Ari spread her wings, lifting into the sky, her flight taking her across the moon.

  I stood, my legs instantly full of pins and needles where I'd sat in one position too long as I moved across the camp. Kye was near the tent, and I considered speaking to him, but Warwick approached him, and I slid into the tent instead.

  The tent was bare with the exception of a bedroll, and I climbed beneath it, turning to my side. The braid and pins Ena had put in my hair earlier made it impossible to lay on my back, but I was loathe to remove it. And so I turned, my gaze on the crack between the tent flap and the camp outside. My eyes found Kye again, deep in conversation with Warwick, his green-clad tunic pulling tight against his back as he gestured while he spoke. Eventually, his tunic took on a darker hue, growing duller and duller until I saw nothing. I gave in to the darkness.