Heart of Steel

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Unless you want to carry my trunks out of the forest yourself...?" Siofra teased. A smile played with the corners of her mouth as she closed her hand, closing the walking tree as well.

  Izzy sheathed her sword, feeling her face heat. She was not accustomed to being teased, especially not by someone of Siofra's station. "I've never seen the like," she said. "They seem... useful." 'Unnatural' and 'terrifying' weren't likely the most diplomatic things to say. A very powerful sorceress must have enchanted them, to let even Lady Siofra use them. "Say your goodbyes, and we can leave."

  Siofra turned to her friends and was engulfed in hugs and kisses and tears and promises of staying in touch. Very touching, Izzy was sure. She kept half an eye on the walking trees. They made the little hairs prickle at the back of her neck, and a good knight didn't ignore that feeling.

  Mother Alba embraced Lady Siofra, drew her down to kiss her brow. Finally she was set free.

  "Shall we, Izzy?" Lady Siofra asked. Her eyes were bright, and blue forget-me-nots were blossoming in her crown of braids. The walking trees creaked and rustled, trundling after them as they crossed the meadow.

  "Can you set your trees in front of us?" Izzy asked, turning to keep them in sight. Having them behind her would not make for a pleasant morning's travel.

  Lady Siofra hesitated slightly between one step and the next and the walking trees lumbered past them to lead the way. The vine gate opened, and they passed into the cool dark beneath the trees.

  Siofra was quiet as she walked, and Izzy appreciated the lack of forced conversation. She strode on ahead of Izzy, head high and her forget-me-not flowers delicately dropping from her braids here and there along her path. That would likely be a popular party trick when she was back in society: the beautiful lady leaving a trail of petals behind her.

  The forest was still beautiful, tall emerald trees lifting branches before them. They shifted more fluidly around Lady Siofra than they had around Izzy alone, which only made them look more uncanny—like fingers opening and closing around them, and it would only take the tiniest change for them to pluck Izzy up instead of those branches. Izzy was glad she was heading out of the forest this time. The sooner would be the better. The light brightened and the tree cover thinned, and the final flower dropped from Siofra's braids as they finally emerged from the sunken lane.

  Lady Siofra hesitated at the forest's edge, standing on the nebulous border between what was the Forestyne's and what was not, walking trees huddled close beside her. Izzy stepped past into daylight and whistled high and piercing, with a liquid warble in the middle. "Lee, come along, Lee," her whistle called, and away on the main road where her group had set up camp she heard the long two-note whistle of, "Coming".

  Siofra stood still, bare toes digging into the dirt. Her shoulders hunched in, fingers clenching in her skirt.

  "Come on. You can't get back to your lady mother if you don't leave the forest," Izzy urged. Siofra glanced sideways, as though she was going to run back into the trees. Izzy held a hand out to her, palm open in invitation. She didn't know what she'd say to Duchess Edythe if her daughter refused to come home. Even if Izzy could find a Forestyne in the forest who didn't want to be found, or take her out of it if she didn't want to leave, Knights of the Winter Star weren't in the habit of making women go anywhere against their wishes. Quite the opposite.

  Siofra looked at Izzy's hand, then up at her face, and finally took the step out of the trees to hold it. Izzy squeezed back in a way she hoped was reassuring as she took another step away. Siofra followed.

  "There," Izzy said with a small smile. She tried to keep her voice gentle. "Camp isn't far. Should we have your trees unload the trunks? Lee and Martel and Tom will be here to carry them to the wagon soon."

  "Oh. Yes," Siofra said. She released Izzy's hand and made a complex hand gesture at the walking trees. They disgorged the trunks in a neat line, and Siofra sent them off into the forest with a sweeping wave. "Go. Root and grow strong," she instructed, and they headed off in different directions.

  The last of the trees and bushes closed the path behind them. A buckthorn's branch snagged Izzy's unarmored forearm in passing—two thorns opening a shallow tear in her skin. She hissed and jerked away, glaring at the entire forest. She'd known the place was untrustworthy.

  "For shame!" Siofra chastised the tree. She reached into its branches, breaking off the two slightly red-tipped thorns and a little round leaf. Without so much as a by-your-leave she turned and grabbed Izzy's armor, right where the breastplate attached to the chainmail sleeve, and pressed the leaves and thorn to it. The thorns immediately wove themselves through the chain, pinning the leaf in place like a broach. "That which harmed shall now protect," Siofra intoned, and set Izzy loose with a satisfied nod.

  Oh that was just perfect. Izzy had no use for magic charms, even those made by real enchanters and not silly girls who made their hair bloom with flowers. A good horse and good weapons did well enough for Izzy. Still, Siofra looked pleased with herself, and that was better than looking like she was going to run back into her cursed forest.

  "Thank you," Izzy said politely. It might have come out a bit stiffly, because Siofra's smile faded a bit. Thankfully, Lee appeared—charging ahead of the group with all the enthusiasm of youth; her brown cheeks and nose blushed ruddy from sun and exercise, and her helmet-cut brown hair stood tousled all over her head.

  "Izzy, the trees didn't eat you!" She launched herself at Izzy in a hug that made their armor clang together. Lee was already as tall as Izzy, and likely to grow more, but not yet as strong. They pounded each other's backs, glad to be back together.

  "Squire, where is your helmet?" Izzy demanded, finally pushing Lee back.

  "Safe in the wagon, ser!" Lee said brightly, and laughed when Izzy lightly cuffed the back of her head. "And you're Lady Siofra. Wow you're beautiful! Squire Lee, at your service!" She bowed, hand over her heart.

  Lady Siofra laughed, her cheeks warming and little yellow flowers blooming in her braids. "Well met, Squire Lee."

  "Let's get her ladyship's trunks to the wagon," Izzy suggested, elbowing Lee, and Lee was quick to grab the other handle on the trunk Izzy went for. Martel and Tom were not far behind, Tom all quick-twitching wiry strength and Martel solid and steady beside him. They were very different, but their kind smiles matched, as did the touch of silver brightening their hair. Martel and Tom bobbed a quick curtsey and bow, respectively, and took another trunk together.

  "I could help carry one?" Lady Siofra offered, a bit helplessly.

  "Don't worry your sweet head, duck," Martel soothed. "That's why we're here. Come along to camp."

  The trunk wasn't too heavy for the short walk, and Lee carried steadily at Izzy's side. Once they got it into the wagon, Izzy checked her sturdy mares while Tom hitched the shaggy red oxen. Lee and Martel went for the final trunk, and Siofra was left to inspect their setup. The mares were in perfect condition, as Izzy expected of Lee's care. She saddled Boots; Blaze could have another day off.

  "No trouble while I was gone?" Izzy asked Tom.

  "None at all. We had a quiet day and night," he answered. "And you? How were the woods?"

  "Quiet," Izzy answered. "Not bad. The Forestyne set a good table."

  Siofra climbed nimbly out of the body of the wagon into the driver's seat, smiling. "I like the wagon. It looks very cozy if we have to stay in it."

  "It is!" Tom agreed as he settled the yoke over the oxen's necks. "All the comforts in miniature, and plenty of space for luggage. You can sit there in front with Martel, or in the back, whichever you like."

  "I am a Forestyne," Lady Siofra advised him, a touch of primness in her tone as she jumped down from the wagon to dig her bare toes into the grass. "We walk the land with our feet upon it."

  The most ascetic of the order eschewed all footwear and any form of transportation other than walking. Noblewomen blessed with green magic, even those who chose to study with the Forestyne, typically did not. Izzy's eyeb
rows lifted in surprise at hearing Lady Siofra's words. They'd see how long her decision held once she wasn't walking in her mossy forest anymore.

  Tom was smoother than the direction of Izzy's thoughts. If he felt any surprise, he didn't show it as he backed the oxen into position to hitch them to the wagon. "Well, the wagon's here if yours ever get tired. No one would think less of you." He tightened a buckle, then gazed skyward. "The next few days should be good weather for walking, anyway."

  "You're a weather mage?" Siofra asked, stepping aside for Lee and Martel and her final trunk.

  Tom laughed. "Bless you, no. I've got enough magic to tell the weather, not enough to do a thing about it."

  "He's not even a hedgewitch," Martel added.

  "My gran was, though!" Tom said proudly. "Her village always had soft rain for the spring seedlings and fair weather for the harvest. Some of my cousins have the touch, not me."

  "You hated farming anyway." Martel smiled as she climbed out of the wagon and went to help Tom.

  "That's true. Had to run away and marry me a pretty wandering girl." Tom leaned in to nuzzle noses with her. Those two, always like newlyweds, despite the decades they'd been married. Izzy shook her head and turned back to her mare. Lady Siofra ducked and glanced away from them too, pink flowers in her braids.

  Lee came out of the wagon, her gray gelding Thunder's saddle over her shoulder and her head still bare.

  "Don't forget your helmet," Izzy reminded.

  "Oh helmet," Lee intoned, free hand on her heart and eyes gazing wistfully skyward. "Always shall I remember the times my brains have fried in you beneath the sun, no time could wash away the memories of the sweat we have shared between us."

  "Lee!" Izzy warned.

  Lee sighed. "Yes, ser." She grabbed her helmet from the wagon. Izzy pretended not to see the face she made. There were lectures on why it was important to be well armored while working, and Lee had heard them all. Another would roll off her like water from a duck's back, same as the rest.

  Lee saddled Thunder quickly, then helped Izzy into riding armor. Blaze was tied to the back of the wagon, everything inside the wagon secured and checked, and they were ready to go. Izzy picked at the leaf Lady Siofra had pinned to her armor, but it was very firmly attached. She could get no purchase on it, and quickly resigned herself to having a leaf stuck to her chainmail. Maybe it would come off when it had dried up.

  Izzy took the front as they began moving, carrying the standard pole on her stirrup. The dark purple-red and green pennant of Greatbriar flew above the midnight blue and shining white of the Winter Star. The pole could serve as a lance, though Izzy would swap it for her glaive if she had time before a fight.

  Lee brought up the rear, armed with her favorite mace and a lance. Tom carried his short bow and a quiver of arrows, walking beside the oxen, sitting with Martel, or up on the wagon's roof to get a longer view. Martel had her crossbow stowed neatly behind her seat—out of the way and hopefully unnoticed until it was too late.

  Lady Siofra walked beside the wagon, and Martel engaged her in conversation. The day passed quickly and pleasantly, and they made their wayfarers' point before sunset. There was grazing for the animals and space to put up tents, and Tom and Martel made stew for supper. It was thickened with the same barley the horses received in their nosebags, as sustaining for people as for beasts. It was no noble's high table, no Forestyne's feast, but it was well flavored and filling.

  Martel set out wards to protect the camp from the imps that sometimes tormented travelers at wayfarers' points, and everyone settled to sleep: Tom and Martel in their hammocks in the wagon, Lee and Izzy in their bedrolls enjoying the cool night air, Lady Siofra on her cot in a tent with the flap pinned opened for the breeze, and the animals staked out to graze.

  The following morning, Lee took the lead and the standards on Thunder, with Izzy and Blaze at the rear. They met the main road early and found much more traffic than Izzy had expected. Farmers mostly, driving pack mules or placid farm-oxen, or carrying heavy packs themselves. All went in the same direction as their group.

  "Where are you headed, good mother?" Martel called out to a woman leading a donkey.

  "It's market day in Bitham!" she answered. "First of the year. You're in for a treat!"

  "It's quite the festival?"

  "Only the best ten miles 'round!" the woman answered, laughing. She seemed to think ten miles was a very long distance.

  Martel thanked her, and their company passed her by. Izzy whistled for Lee's attention and gestured her to bring Thunder closer, consolidating their group within the traffic. Tom sat on the back of the wagon to discourage thieves from taking advantage of the bustle, and Lady Siofra walked very close to the side of the wagon.

  Siofra only nodded once when Martel tried to engage her in conversation about the luck of hitting market day and what she might want to buy. Lee and Tom were more than happy to fill in the gap left by Siofra's quiet.

  The press grew thicker as they approached Bitham, and was close to crushing when they finally got into town. Their animals were steady; the oxen were never bothered by anything, and the horses were trained to handle worse. It wasn't as hectic as the royal city during a parade, and the crowd made a little extra space for two knights.

  Izzy thought they were all doing well until she noticed that Lady Siofra's normally fluid stride was short and choppy now, her arms drawn up and a sheen of sweat visibly appeared on her warm brown skin. She flinched from an oblivious farmer swaying close with his heavy bundles, bumped into the wagon, then flinched away from the wheel before it ran into her. She was breathing too fast, her magic making her braid crown grow thorns and stinging nettle rather than flowers. Weeds sprouted in her footprints, rough and thorny between the paving stones.

  She was panicking, silently but unmistakably. Izzy urged Blaze forward, between Lady Siofra and the crowd. She jostled a few people, and one of them cursed at her before realizing she was a well-armed knight and reconsidering.

  "Your Ladyship. Lady Siofra," Izzy tried, and then, leaning down and speaking more quietly and intently when Lady Siofra's only response was to flinch: "Siofra. Look at me."

  Siofra looked up, the whites visible around her eyes.

  "Get into the wagon," Izzy said, using Blaze to push more people aside. She hoped Siofra could make sense of her words; Izzy should have noticed her panic sooner. It was her duty to see to Lady Siofra's safety, whether or not she spoke up when she began to struggle. Izzy's inattention, leaving Siofra to flounder, was a mistake she would not repeat. She was prepared to dismount and lead Siofra by the hand if needed, but thankfully Lady Siofra nodded and ran past her. She threw herself clumsily past Martel and into the belly of the wagon.

  Martel had not noticed Siofra's panic either, intent on driving the oxen, but she couldn't miss Lady Siofra pushing past now. "All right there, duck?" she asked, glancing back. If Siofra answered, Izzy couldn't hear as she maneuvered Blaze back behind the wagon. "Try and breathe, dear," Martel soothed. "You're safe with us."

  Izzy shared a worried look with Tom, but there was nothing more they could do as they worked their way through Bitham. They needed water, and there was a well in the central square, but Izzy caught Lee's attention and had her aim for a smaller square. It was still crowded there, with stalls set up willy-nilly and a troop of players on a makeshift stage, but at least a little quieter. Martel stopped the wagon away from the hectic center. Lee and Tom took buckets to the well, while Martel looked after the animals.

  It was left to Izzy to handle Lady Siofra. She was sitting on a trunk, hands on her knees and eyes closed. She was clearly trying to breathe normally and failing, almost panting. The sharp thorns and nettles in her hair screamed 'keep away'.

  "Lady Siofra?" Izzy made her voice gentle, settling in across from her. "We're stopped for a bit, to get the animals water."

  Siofra nodded sharply, her breath jittering. Her hands were clenched so hard her knuckles paled.

  "
Hold my hands?" Izzy asked, pulling off her heavy gloves and holding both hands out to Lady Siofra. "Can you hold my hands and breathe with me?" She hadn't done this in ages, but she remembered how, if the trick worked for a panicking sorceress as it had her older brother.

  Lady Siofra hesitantly reached one hand toward Izzy, eyes still closed. Izzy took it in hers, feeling Siofra's cold sweat. Izzy held it firmly but hopefully not painfully, trying to give Lady Siofra some other sensation than her own fear.

  "Now breathe, deep from your belly. In, two, three, four, five..." Izzy squeezed in time with each word, setting the pace. Nice and easy. "Hold, one, two... out, two, three, four, five. In again... hold... out, two, three, four, five. Good... Good." Izzy let the spoken numbers fade away, keeping time with just light pressure and the occasional word. Nothing but their breaths filled the space. Lady Siofra reached her second hand out, and Izzy took it too.

  She squeezed back on Izzy's hands in time, her brow smoothing out. The nettles and thorns in her hair shrank and then were gone. Izzy smiled for her when Lady Siofra opened her eyes.

  "There. Better?" Izzy asked. She made to let go of Lady Siofra's hands, but she tightened her hold and Izzy didn't fight. If she needed contact for a little longer, Izzy could give her that.

  "A little better, yes," Lady Siofra said weakly.

  "What's going on?" Izzy asked. If it was something she could fix, she would.

  "It's been," Lady Siofra flinched as the players' audience outside began cheering. "I haven't been out of the forest in five years," she said in a rush, her eyes closing and her hands clinging to Izzy's.

  Izzy squeezed back. "Five years?" That wasn't normal. She would have expected a season at most, a little coming-of-age sabbatical to be able to say she had trained with the Forestyne. Just a feather in her cap.

  "I was fifteen when my mother realized she couldn't train me," Lady Siofra said. "She sent me to the Forestyne until I could control myself. I thought I could. Maybe I can't. Maybe I should never have left the forest." Her breath picked up again sharply.