Raene and the Three Bears (The Alder Tales Book 2)

by RS McCoy

  “What is that?” Blossom inquired.

  “It’s a form of automatic payment. Rather than pay at each store, shop owners will deduct the amount from your account automatically. So as not to inconvenience you by making you wait,” he explained.

  Blossom remembered that, like Kaide, she was entitled to a considerable salary for her ‘service’ to her branch. It seemed silly to think someone could have so much money that spending it was an inconvenience. As it was, she couldn’t argue. With arms full of supplies and winter clothes, she was relieved to not have to do it herself.

  As soon as they left each store, Eton collected the items she’d picked and carried them to the next shop. “I can do it myself,” Blossom argued for the tenth time.

  “No, you have a position and title to uphold. What would people think if you carried all this while your advisor stood idle beside you?”

  “I don’t care what they think.”

  “You should. That’s half your problem.” Blossom didn’t want to know what the other half was.

  Her eyes scanned the shoppers moving about their business. Most wore suits like the one beneath her cloak, but others were dressed more plainly, with loose tops and pants not unlike those she wore in the Alderwood. Whether fancy or not, Blossom couldn’t decide why she should care what anyone thought of her.

  Then again, earning popular opinion had never been her talent.

  “Where else do you want to go?” Eton asked as he readjusted the items tucked under his arms.

  Blossom looked at the nearby storefronts and pointed to the one she wanted. “That one.” Eton followed her gaze to the sign that read, Ismenia’s Arms. Racks of knives and daggers stood on either side of the entrance, but further inside, Blossom could see bows lining the back wall.

  Without waiting for him, Blossom crossed the walkway and navigated past the shoppers who clogged her passage into the store. Most were a head taller and didn’t seem to even notice her until she was already gone, but Blossom paid them no mind.

  At last, she arrived at the back wall, the one that held a dozen models of bows, though upon closer investigation, they were like nothing she’d seen before.

  A child of the forest, Blossom had held her fair share of bows. She’d made her own when she was nine—with Hale’s help. After that, Parson had shown her how to make arrows from the cast-off bits from the cut and feathers they plucked from birds he hunted. And if she was being honest, she was pretty good with a bow. Not as good as Parson, but good enough to get her own meal when she wanted one.

  But these were something else entirely. Rather than wood pulled into the rounded shape of a bow and tied with horse hair, these were metal—a few of them even glass. The bowstrings weren’t strings at all, but instead some sort of metal fibers spun into an impossibly strong cable. Blossom had only begun to trace her finger along the edge of the nearest one when Eton sounded behind her. “A compound bow?”

  “For hunting,” Blossom explained, though she wasn’t sure this was what she wanted after all.

  “Why not a spear? Oh, I know. A rock. You should give them a rock.”

  “What are you going on about?” Blossom didn’t even offer him her disinterested glare.

  “You want someone to survive using one of these? It’s so rudimentary, it’s ridiculous—” His voice fell away as the realization hit him. “This is what you used to hunt in the Alderwood?”

  Blossom didn’t bother to answer. He knew already.

  “These are for showmanship competitions. No one actually uses these to hunt for food.”

  “Then what do you recommend?” This time, she turned and crossed her arms. As much as she hated it, she needed him. If she was going to give the ‘criminals’ a chance at survival, they needed something useful.

  Eton nodded toward the left wall of the shop. “A small rifle. And a dagger for cleaning the meat.”

  “And they’ll know how to use that?” She eyed the slender wooden devices with suspicion.

  But Eton only chuckled at her ignorance. “Everyone knows how to use a rifle. Especially a little one like this,” he said as he thrust his chin toward the bottom row. “It’ll be easy enough to handle, light to carry, and quick to reload. That’s the one you want.”

  Blossom collected the one he picked out, but she spent another minute readjusting her grip to his satisfaction.

  “It’s not loaded, but never point a rifle at anyone you don’t want to die.”

  She tried not to fluster at that particular comment. Instead, she walked to the store front and picked out a small dagger with a serrated edge—the kind that would easily cut through animal fur. Then, Eton paid and walked her back to the Robin.

  On the platform, he helped her open up the large bag and fill it with all the supplies. Only the coats, hats, and gloves were left out.

  Then, as she’d dreaded all morning, it was time to exile an innocent family. Eton set the Robin in motion, but after only a few minutes, Blossom knew it wasn’t going to go well. She searched the train for anything to retch into, but of course, there was nothing but clean white floors and matching white walls.

  At the last moment, Blossom thought to turn away and spew her breakfast onto the floor by the door, missing her cloak entirely. The air hung heavy with spoil and sickness, and when at last Blossom righted and wiped a hand across her lips, Eton had moved three full seats away, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth as if he, too, might be sick.

  “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. What she wouldn’t give for a handcloth and a drink of water. Without either, Blossom did her best to remove the spittle from her face and swallow down the dank flavor of her own regurgitated meal.

  “Are we almost there?” she begged when her stomach churned again minutes later.

  “About halfway.” Eton pinched his nostrils shut with his fingers.

  “That far?” Blossom tried not to whine, but there was no way she would make it that long. There was nothing she could do but resume the same position and spew again, though thank the Mother it was far less this time.

  “Seriously?”

  For the last ten minutes, Blossom dry heaved until her stomach ached and her sides began to cramp. Her mouth was horribly parched and coated in retch.

  When finally the train slowed to a stop and the doors parted, she didn’t know who was more glad to be free. Eton bolted for the platform like the train had caught fire.

  Blossom trudged out after him, relieved to be on solid ground, and a little impressed she’d managed to escape the whole event without so much as a stray drop on her cloak to betray her sickness.

  All in all, she’d done well. She felt rotten and hated to let Eton see her that way, but it was nothing compared to what she was about to do.

  “Where are we?” she asked when the crisp platform faded into a raw stone corridor before opening into the wide lava tube. This time, there was almost no one present, and of the dozen or so who were, they all wore the same plain clothes she’d seen at the Emporium. If she didn’t know better, she’d say they weren’t in Aerona anymore.

  “These are the outskirts, the poorest housing units well outside the city. This is where the Hammonds live.”

  Not for much longer, Blossom thought sourly.

  With the large bag on his shoulder and the coats hung over his arm, Eton led her through the main lava tube to a smaller branch, and another one after that. The corridor became narrower and dimmer with each turn.

  An older woman with grey wisps of hair stopped suddenly when she saw them turn the corner. “Bless me, Eton Samina. If I didn’t see it with my own eyes—”

  “A pleasure as always, Mrs. Ruen.” He nodded politely to the woman as he waited for Blossom to pass her—the tunnel wasn’t wide enough to fit them both at once.

  “Who was that?” Blossom asked when they were around the next bend.

  “Just an old woman. Don’t worry about her.” He waved his hand in the air, as if she was nothing more than a pesky insect.


  Blossom was inclined to believe him until another person, this one an older man with a long white beard, stopped at the sight of Eton and began to mumble under his breath as he neared. When he was close enough, he reached out for Eton’s shoulder and said, “Glad to have you back, son.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Grone,” Eton replied with a polite smile. Then, he peeled himself away from the man, as if touching him was painful.

  “That was your da?” Blossom asked after the next turn.

  Eton frowned at her. “Of course not. Here we are.” He pointed to an unmarked door in the middle of the impossibly small hallway.

  Blossom half suspected he had merely picked one at random to get her to quiet, but then she heard the playful shrieks of a girl inside.

  The Hammonds had a little girl, she remembered.

  With a hand has heavy as lead, Blossom reached up and knocked, producing a hollow, metallic ring through the hall. The girl’s shrieks stopped instantly.

  Quiet footfalls grew gradually louder until a woman pulled open the door. Blossom didn’t know what she expected, but this pretty woman in her twenties, with soft features and a full head of lovely blonde hair wasn’t it. The delicate way her fingers grasped the door and the carefully pinned hair left no doubt: Kiza Hammond was a woman of elegance.

  “I’m looking for Mr. Wersa Hammond,” Blossom stammered as the woman stood in wait.

  With one hand still on the doorframe, the woman turned and called out for him. A few seconds later, her husband’s wiry frame appeared behind her. His eyes bounced from Blossom to Eton to Blossom once more, but the way his jaw rippled and his lips went thin, Blossom knew she wouldn’t have to explain it.

  He knew why they were there.

  “Go and get Helena ready,” he told his wife. She slipped away and left them alone. “We just need a moment,” he explained.

  How he was so calm about being exiled with his family, Blossom would never understand. If it had been her, she would have kicked and screamed until the last second.

  “Take as much time as you need,” Blossom said, trying her best to make this horrible situation that much less horrible, but both Eton and Wersa Hammond openly stared at her.

  Kiza Hammond reappeared with a long-sleeved shirt and a bag on her back. Both her hands rested on the shoulders of a light-eyed girl, the one Blossom guessed to be Helena Hammond. She was no more than five years old.

  Blossom wanted to kick herself that she hadn’t thought to get anything to comfort the girl—a toy or a book or something, anything to distract her, if only for a short while.

  As it was, Blossom had nothing.

  “You have to tell him,” Eton prodded.

  Blossom swallowed hard and ran her hands down the front of her cloak, never taking her eyes off the girl. “I’ve been tasked with escorting you to the surface for exile.”

  Wersa Hammond plucked his daughter from the ground and held her against his chest. She flopped her head against his shoulder as she had clearly done a thousand times before.

  After that, no one moved. “Walk them back to the main lava tube,” Eton instructed.

  Blossom wasn’t sure she could find the way, but it turned out to be easy. As long as she picked the largest passageway, she knew she was moving in the right direction. Behind her, she could hear Eton’s careful steps followed by Wersa and his wife. No one spoke, and Blossom didn’t turn around for fear of what she might see on their faces.

  It would be all right, she reminded herself. She wouldn’t be doing this if she thought they would really be in danger.

  So Blossom held her head high and navigated the dim stone walkways until they emerged in the main lava tube.

  “There’s an elevator down there to the left.”

  Blossom followed Eton’s instructions and walked the Hammonds to the doors of the elevator. She tried to ooze calmness as she waited, but she felt anything but. She was closer to explosion than serenity.

  At last, the shimmering elevator doors slid open, and the five of them entered. No sooner were the doors shut, than Blossom pulled the coats from Eton’s arms.

  “We don’t have much time. Put these on,” Blossom said as she shoved the coats toward Wersa and his wife. He didn’t hesitate to set little Helena on the floor as he worked to get the coat over his shoulders. Wasting no time, Blossom collected the smallest coat and helped the girl into it. “Here you are, Helena. Nice and warm, with fox fur here on the collar. Isn’t it soft?” she asked in her sweetest voice, desperate to keep from alarming the girl.

  Eton handed over the hats and gloves, and again, Blossom helped Helena, frantic to get each of her little fingers into the right spot before they reached the surface.

  Then, Eton handed the heavy bag to Wersa and helped him center it on his shoulders. “There’s a hunting rifle and ammo, a dagger, matches, warm blankets, water-proof boots,” Eton explained, but Wersa only nodded. He reached for Helena as the elevator finally stopped and the doors slid apart.

  Blossom was ill-prepared to see the surface.

  A horrific, howling wind flew into the metal box, carrying snowflakes and stealing the heat from her lungs. Like being plunged into a frozen lake, Blossom gasped at the sudden coldness. The sky was a grey blanket, far from the crisp-blue hue she’d always known. The surrounding area was nothing more than a snow-filled barren.

  Kiza looked back at Eton, her eyes heavy with sorrow, before she said, “Best of luck, Eton. And to you, Ms. Frane.” Her hand fell to Blossom’s forearm with a light squeeze before she plunged into the knee-high snow.

  “Be safe,” was all Blossom could think to say as Wersa followed after his wife, their daughter held tight in his arms.

  Had she questioned Eton’s determination to use the shocking feature of the bracelet, Blossom would have left, too.

  With arms clasped tightly over her chest, Blossom watched them fade into the cold, their figures distorted by the snow flying past. The air in her lungs felt like needles, but still she waited. Even once they were out of sight, too far away or hidden by too much snow to be seen, Blossom wouldn’t move.

  Eton smacked the button to close the doors. The elevator kept the cold air inside as they descended. The resulting quiet seemed so much louder after the howling winds.

  “You think they’ll make it?” Blossom heard herself ask. It would never sit right with her, what happened to the Hammonds, but at least Blossom could live with the knowledge that she’d done everything in her power to give them their best chance at success.

  Eton’s gaze became soft as he shrugged. “There’s no way to know. You did the best you could. More than anyone else would have.”

  “I did good?” she asked with a tempered smile.

  “You did well,” he corrected. “But we never mention this to anyone. Ever. Understood?” Eton’s stern words were a direct contrast to the proud smile he wore. No matter what he said, Blossom knew she’d earned his respect.

  Trade

  BEFORE RAENE could make sense of what was happening, Da had a hand on her shoulder and thrust her into the daylit clearing in front of Hale’s tent. Too late she realized she wore nothing more than someone’s shirt Hale had borrowed the night before, and her braid was loose and messed from sleep.

  She put an arm over her eyes to shield them from the too-bright morning light, so intense after the dimness of the tent.

  “Come along, Ms. Randal!” Da sang as he walked her through camp, either enjoying her confusion or oblivious to it.

  Raene could feel every eye find her as she walked, looking her up and down. She heard the whispers as these strangers questioned why she wore a night shirt, why Da was so intent on taking her wherever they were going, why she decided to be Terra.

  Tears pricked behind her eyes within seconds, but Raene blinked them away. She wouldn’t let them make her ashamed of being Pyro. After Kaide’s claws marred her face, Raene had grown accustomed to the less-than-friendly stares of those around her. She’d quickly learned to ignore the co
mments and keep her chin up, a skill that served her well today. Inside, she was as taut as a bowstring. To everyone else, she was calm and at ease.

  By the time she realized where Da was headed, they were already within steps of Lathan’s tent. She ducked her head and darted inside, as if dodging a loosed arrow.

  Raene thanked her luck when Da remained outside. “Get dressed quickly, Ms. Randal. We’re already late!”

  Tasia closed in a second later. “Don’t worry, he doesn’t mean any harm.” She held out a clean set of Raene’s Pyro clothes and pushed her toward the partition.

  Raene was still clasping the ties behind her back when she heard Hale’s shouts outside. She hurried to finish tying her shirt and resigned herself to leave her hair as it was as she shot back into the clearing.

  “You had no right to do that!” Hale shouted at Da, his cheeks red, and his eyes narrowed in an anger she had never imagined to see from him. Raene realized he was protecting her—from what, she wasn’t sure—but it warmed her to see him so up in arms for her sake.

  “We’re late,” Da replied, calm and smiling in the face of Hale’s fury. “We have a trade with Hydra this morning.”

  “I’m going as well. There was no need for that.”

  “Not today, son. And there was a need. We need her. And we’re late.” Da made it sound like the whole deal would fracture without Raene there to make it happen.

  But Hale wouldn’t hear any of it. He took a step closer and raised a pointed finger at Da. “You dragged her across camp like she’d done something wrong. She’s my bride,” Hale shouted.

  “That’s enough,” Lathan boomed. Raene hadn’t even noticed he was standing a few steps behind Da. Hale, too, seemed surprised by his oldest brother stepping in. But as always, Lathan had spoken, and that was that.

  It was then Hale saw her standing at the tent flap.

  Ignoring Lathan and Da, he rushed over and collected her hands in his. He squeezed them so tight, the edges of his rings dug into her fingers. “You did nothing wrong. This isn’t your fault, got it?”

  Raene nodded, unsure of what he meant.