by M. R. Forbes
"I love you, too."
They stood facing one another, holding each other's hands and looking into one another's eyes.
"Now what?" Wilem asked.
Eryn's heart was beating so fast she could feel it in her head. "You should seal your promise with a kiss."
"A good idea," he said, stepping towards her.
She stepped to him as well, and they met in the center, their hands clasped at their sides. Eryn tilted and lifted her head, closing her eyes and waiting. She felt his breath first on her face, and then washing gently across her lips as he leaned down to her. Then she felt the soft warmth of his mouth against hers, and she relaxed into him, kissing him deeply.
Too soon he pulled away, keeping his face close. She opened her eyes and examined him, seeing the love and desire there.
"Maybe you should seal your promise with another kiss," she said, finding herself short of breath. "To make sure it sticks."
They laughed together, even as their lips joined again.
A cough behind them interrupted their moment. They pulled away from one another, and all the color drained from Wilem's face when they saw Talon and Fehri standing there. Eryn refused to feel embarrassed. She loved Wilem, and there was nothing wrong with showing it.
"Pardon our interruption," Fehri said with a smile.
"We've finished collapsing the cave," Talon said. "It's time to go."
Eryn's heart continued to pound, but for a different reason. She still had Wilem's hands in hers, and she didn't want to let go. She leaned forward and kissed him again, taking him by surprise. "Take care of Talon for me, my love."
"I will," he said with a sad smile.
She let go of him and walked over to Talon, throwing her arms around him. "Please bring him back to me," she whispered into his ear.
"I will do all that I can, my dear. You know the dangers."
She backed away. "I do. Be safe, Grandfather."
She could see how he melted when she called him that. Blood or not, he was still the same person.
Talon turned to Fehri. "Captain, I trust you'll see Eryn safely to Varrow."
He bowed his head. "It is the will of Amman. As you command, General."
"Wilem?" Talon said.
The Mediator joined him. They would be going on foot and heading north to Edgewater. Once there, they would hope to intercept the Carriers, the special soldiers who brought the cure from the Refinery and delivered it to the city. It was Wilem's home, and the other reason Talon wanted him at his side.
"Talon?" Eryn said, a sudden thought coming into her mind. She had told him of her experience with the Shifter General, but there had been one thing she'd forgotten.
"Yes?"
"The Curse. I just remembered. The Shifter called it the prozoa. Does that mean anything to you?"
Talon's eyes narrowed for the barest instant, his expression turning distant, refocusing a moment later.
"No, my dear, but my memories are still like shattered glass. Take care, be safe. We will be back with you in Varrow before you know it."
Eryn kept her attention on him, staring, even as he collected Wilem and started walking away. She watched until they had circled the outcropping of rocks and trees and travelled beyond her sight.
"Captain Fehri?" Eryn said.
"Yes, my Lady?"
"Why do you think the General just lied to me?"
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Spyne
They had left their horses on the other side of Genesia. It meant a long, too slow walk for Spyne and his Historians from the lip of the valley and down the mountain towards Varrow City.
Spyne was holding a small scrap of cloth in his hand, a piece of a Mediator's cloak that Worm had brought to him, after finding it wedged beneath a stone. Based on the torn edges, he was certain that whoever had owned the cloak had gotten it caught on the rock somehow, though it seemed an odd place for such a thing, or such a person to be.
Talon, maybe? Wearing one of their cloaks?
He wasn't sure. Worm seemed certain that three pairs of legs had walked out of Genesia, and that none of them were small enough to be female. Where was the Whore? Was she even a she at all, or had all of the rumors bent and twisted the story to make his accomplice a girl? It certainly made for a more interesting tale, especially late at night in the more tawdry bars and brothels.
"We'll be at the river inside of the hour, General," Peyne said, speeding up in his stride to come alongside him. "Where do we head from there?"
He glanced over at Peyne, his heart burning. He wasn't sure where to go next, and he hated the feeling. "Worm."
The painted man had gone a few hundred feet ahead, but he wandered back at Spyne's beckoning.
"Are we still on the trail?"
Worm eyed Peyne for a moment before nodding slowly. Was he blaming the Captain for questioning him?
"How much farther?" Peyne asked.
Worm spread his hands out. How should I know?
"Do you know how far behind we are?" Spyne said.
Worm narrowed his eyes. He was still for a few heartbeats, and then he raised two fingers.
"Two days?" Peyne asked. "We must be gaining on them?"
Worm shrugged. He waved his hand horizontally. Could be more. Could be less.
"We could catch up to them if we had some horses," Peyne said.
"We could," Spyne agreed. "If we knew which direction to ride. Move too fast, and we could bypass a change. Worm, carry on."
Worm bowed to him and ran back out to the front, picking up where he had left off.
"He must have some destination in mind, my Lord. The Liar doesn't seem like one to wander aimlessly."
"No." Spyne rubbed his beard with a rough hand.
He wouldn't wander without purpose. Not after visiting Genesia. Not after breaking the promise. He was headed somewhere.
Varrow was the closest city to here, but he had already been through Varrow, or at least passed nearby. He had attacked the Washfall mines and freed the prisoners there.
Why? What did you hope to gain?
It didn't matter. It was clear he had made his way from Washfall to Genesia, and then from Genesia back out to Washfall. But Varrow was near the center of the Empire. There were a number of roads running through it, including the Empire Road north to Edgewater, east to the Killorn Pass, south to the Marshes...
He found Worm up ahead. He was more reliant on the tattooed mute than he felt comfortable with, and yet he couldn't argue his tracking skills. He would never have guessed the direction Talon had moved, or the makeup of his companions. A juggernaut and a Cursed. Not just any juggernaut. Judging by the size and weight of the impacts in the ground, it was an older model.
Possibly a One Zero?
He wasn't sure if that was good fortune or not.
He didn't know much about how the creatures were made or brought to life. In his memories, he knew that Talon had been responsible for designing the molds that the alloys had been poured into, the shell of ircidium and alloy that protected them from the Shifters. He had helped construct the inner workings, too. The gears and pistons and actuators. Hundreds of tiny pieces held together by maths and magic, all painstakingly made by hand, first alone, and then with the help of hundreds of volunteers. Tella had assisted Jeremiah with the ebocite, the positioning of the crystal shards, and the resonances. Feng had contributed the idea for the tubing that would allow the water to flow through the construction, passing the resonance from one crystal to the next.
What had he done?
Sat and watched. Too stupid to be of any use to them.
Stupid, but strong.
The first model, the One Zero, hadn't even been made to fight. They were builders, tools to help construct the reactors, and put into service of war only out of necessity. They could stand up to the lesser Shifter infantry, but were decimated by the larger forces, as they were too slow to maneuver around an enemy twice their size and bred for killing. That model had been re
tired, the remaining units sent out and used to train the human soldiers to fight a larger, stronger enemy. The designs had improved. Each iteration had become sleeker, stronger, lighter, smarter. Not smart. They didn't think for themselves. They could receive orders. They couldn't act on their own.
The last model, the Three Six, had been a crowning achievement in their progress. Tella had been so excited about it that they had made love all night, sure that their future was secure and that the enemy would be defeated. That all of the horrors of the past years would be undone.
It was a giant step forward. It was also a failure.
They couldn't time shift, and without shifting, they couldn't win. Not in the end.
In the end, there would only be Nine.
Spyne was pulled out of his memories by a tugging on the sleeve of his doublet.
"What is it, Worm?" he asked. He looked around. He didn't recognize the landscape, and now he could hear the soft bubbling of the river on his right. How long had they been walking for?
Worm pointed up at a tree.
Spyne looked up, trying to follow Worm's finger. It was an oak, tall and wide, with heavy branches laden with leaves. He saw an owl roosting about forty feet up, but nothing worth noting.
Nothing worth being pulled back to the present for.
His memories were returning with each passing hour. They were luring him, seducing him back to a time that should have been a nightmare. A time of war and death and loss. A time of fear and dread. A time of darkness. Except that was where Tella was still alive. That was where her legacy remained. That was where they could be together.
They stoked his anger, fueled his rage. He felt his muscles clench and loosen. When he found Talon...
"There's nothing there," he said, as close as he had ever come to striking the painted man. He even began to curl his hand into a fist before thinking better of it. The diminutive man had already forced him to replace three of his Historians. They were tough men, all.
Worm was tougher.
Worm shook his head and pointed at Spyne's eyes. Then he ran to the tree and began to climb, scaling the branches in seconds. He picked the owl from the tree and tossed it down at the General's feet.
"Fake?" Spyne said, bending down and putting his fingers on it. Close up, it was obviously made of wood. The paint wasn't even very detailed. Then again, it didn't need to be at such a distance. "What does it mean?"
Worm rejoined him on the ground, jumping from a branch fifteen feet up and landing as though it were barely above the earth. He picked up the owl and stared at it.
"What does it mean?" Spyne asked him again.
Worm held up his hand, and then dropped onto his knees. He crawled along the ground, running his hands along the grass, moving slowly towards the river bank.
"Peyne," Spyne said.
"Yes, General," the Captain replied, running to his side.
"At ease. Two hours, or until Worm decides to stop slinking like his namesake."
"As you command, General." Peyne returned to Ash, Cain, and the others and gave them the orders.
Spyne continued watching Worm crawl towards the river until he was right on the bank. He must have found something because he sat up and motioned for Spyne to join him. When he did, he pointed down.
"What is it?" Spyne asked. He didn't see anything.
Worm tapped the uneven sediment abutting the flow. Had it been scraped away? It could have been from a bare foot.
"You think someone bathed here?"
He nodded.
"There must be a camp."
He nodded again.
"Can you find it?"
He shrugged. Then he lifted his head. His nostrils flared as if he could smell something.
"What is it?" Spyne asked.
Worm pointed at the red eye clasped to Spyne's cloak. Magic.
He got to his feet and took off at a run, leaving Spyne chasing behind him. "Slow down," he shouted behind the man, but he wasn't listening. He led Spyne away from the river, into a maze of large stones with trees growing above them, roots hanging still in the open air. He brought him across it, ignoring his orders to slow, possessed by whatever he had sensed.
Could he smell magic? Could he sense it long after it was used? Was that how he re-enacted Talon's fight against the dragon?
Worm came to an abrupt stop in front of a stone whose tree had lost its grip and fallen, landing in front of it and causing the ground around it to be choppy and broken. He stood and stared at it while Spyne waited for him to do... something.
"Worm," he said at last. There was no response. "Worm!"
The man turned and shook his head. He dropped into the fighting stance Talon had taken against the dragon, and then pointed at the ground. Talon was here.
"How long?"
Two fingers again. Maybe more, maybe less.
"Which way did he go?"
Worm put his hand on the ground and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he stood and pointed north.
"Edgewater?" Spyne asked.
Worm shrugged.
Why else would you go to the north?
"Any sign of horses?"
He shook his head.
"On foot then."
Spyne smiled. The nearest town was Doovan, two days of walking at a good pace. The Historians were close enough to Varrow City that they could stop by the palace for fresh horses and supplies, and catch up to him long before he made it to Edgewater.
Or they could circle around, and be waiting to welcome him when he arrived.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Eryn
"Captain, where are we going?" Eryn asked, lifting the hem of the skirt Fehri had given her to avoid a bit of mud. She was thankful to be out of the stained and worn clothes that she had been wearing since their trip into the Dark, though she would have greatly preferred a pair of pants, even ones made of burlap, to the hassle of trying to move through the wood in such clothes. They left her feeling exposed, vulnerable.
"Varrow City, of course, my Lady," Fehri said.
Eryn stopped. They had already been walking for quite some time, long enough that the sky was growing dark and night was looming. Travel had been slow, and while they hadn't seen or heard any soldiers, they were in a constant state of wariness. Even so, there was one thing she was certain of. She held her arm out and pointed. "Varrow is that way."
Fehri turned and smiled. "You have a keen sense of direction. Yes, Varrow is that way, but by Amman, I can't bring you in there looking like a rag of a girl. You're to be Overlord Prezi's charge. Her niece. You'll need to dress, and act, the part."
"I don't know anything about being a noble, or a lady."
"Neither do I," Fehri said with a laugh. "I suppose the Overlord will teach you."
His answer wasn't reassuring. Eryn put her hand to her forearm and pulled up the sleeve, revealing the remains of the scaly grey skin that refused to give way. "How do you suppose the Overlord is going to explain this?"
Fehri glanced down at it. "Gloves." He pointed ahead of him. "There's a small town about fifteen miles from here called Ember. It was a village once, but it grew as the trade routes from Portsmouth to Varrow grew. The General's man, Trock, is waiting for us there with everything we'll need for you to make a proper entrance."
Eryn let go of her skirt. "I suppose if I'm going to need new clothes, I don't need to take care of these. I was nervous to meet the Overlord covered in filth."
Fehri smiled. "Somehow, I get the feeling whatever you wear, it isn't going to stay pristine for long."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Eryn put her hands on her hips, glaring at the soldier.
"Amman has bigger plans for you," he replied. "Too big to be contained by cloth and stitches."
She calmed immediately. "I never thought about it like that." She started walking, moving up next to him. "I can carry that for a while. They are my things."
Her pack was slung over Fehri's soldier. In it were Aren's journals, Jeremiah
's journal, and the cans of thick liquid they had gathered for Oz. It didn't look that heavy, and she wanted to feel like she was doing something besides following.
Fehri seemed to recognize it. He dropped the pack from his shoulder and handed it to her. "Too big to be contained in a small burlap pack," he said with a smile.
"Are there many soldiers who follow the Words of Amman?" Eryn asked, taking the pack. It was heavier than she had realized, though she didn't say a word or let her effort show. Fehri's eyes suggested he picked up on that as well, even if he didn't say anything.
"There are many people who say they believe in Amman. Out of those people, there are many who say they follow Amman. Out of those people, there are a few who have studied his Words, and who have taken them into their hearts." He shook his head. "Even then, they try to find a different meaning in the Words, how they will work for them, instead of understanding what Amman intends for us."
"What about the priests who collect for the poor? Aren't they following Amman's Words?"
"Again, many are. Some are not. Amman's greatest blessing is also Heden's most powerful weapon. He gave us the will to choose, to think and act for ourselves. There will always be those that use this to their advantage, as much as others use it to create an opportunity for all. How did you come to know Amman, Eryn?"
Eryn's thoughts returned to her mother. She realized how little she had been thinking of her lately, since she and Silas, no, Talon, had found the map to the Dark, and then when she had met Wilem. Even the things she had told him were fabrications. She had promised her mother she would survive, and so far she had.
She looked up at the sky, barely visible through the overhang of trees. It was getting late, and she had a feeling Fehri would stop them for the night soon. Sooner, now that she was carrying the pack. "My mother. She believed in Amman. She would read his Words to my brother and me some nights, mainly during the winter when we would gather around the fireplace. I don't know if she was a good follower. I don't understand all of what she read. I do know she was a kind and strong woman, and she cared for everyone. Roddin and me best of all. Well, except for Papa. She always loved him the most."
