She’d just have to figure out how to do something on her own to stop that from happening.
He patted her shoulder. “Take care of Blizzard for me, won’t you?”
“I will.” Brandi blinked. He was leaving Blizzard behind. He didn’t think he’d come back. A tear trickled down one of her cheeks. She couldn’t lose both Leith and Renna.
Leith swiped her tear away with his thumb, his finger warm on her cold cheek. “We’ll be all right. We’re in God’s hands.”
Uncle Abel had said that exact same thing, right before he and Aunt Mara left, only to be executed a month later. What good did being in God’s hands really do? She should believe it did some good, but it didn’t seem like it right now.
“I just…” Another tear dribbled down her cheek. Why was she breaking down now? She didn’t want to cry. Not at all. But her tears weren’t listening to her. “I don’t understand why everything’s so hard.”
Leith bowed his head. When he looked up at her, his mouth had an odd tilt to it, smiling and yet not. “You remember those Daniel stories you told me all those months ago?”
Blinking, she nodded and scrubbed at her tears. Maybe she could get rid of the evidence before anyone else noticed. “Of course I remember.”
“Daniel and his three friends went through a lot of hard things. Just because they believed in God didn’t mean their lives were easy. Yes, God saved them from the fiery furnace and the den of lions, but they still were thrown into them. At the time, they didn’t know they’d survive. Yet they still trusted God. It always looks hopeless during the middle of the story.”
They hadn’t known they’d survive. Brandi had never thought about the stories that way. She’d always focused on the ending and its big deliverance. That was the important part, right?
But Daniel and his three friends hadn’t known God would give them a big deliverance. They’d faced the same uncertainty she did.
This was Leith’s lions’ den. He didn’t know if God would save him like He’d saved Daniel, but, like Daniel, Leith had to go forward and leave the rest to God.
Biting back her tears, Brandi threw herself forward and hugged Leith as hard as she could. This might be the last time she ever saw him. She didn’t want him to leave thinking she was mad at him.
Tightening her grip, she buried her face against his shoulder. Maybe if she hugged him tight enough, he wouldn’t have to go. He’d stay here where he was safe. They’d come up with some other plan to rescue Renna.
Wishful thinking didn’t solve problems. She knew that now. With one last squeeze, she pulled away from Leith and put on her most determined face. She dug into her pocket and pulled out the shard of crystal she’d taken from the cave. It was such a small thing compared to everything Leith had given her, but perhaps he’d need the reminder of that sparkling cave more than she would. “Here. You take this.”
He took it and dropped it into a pocket. “I’ll take care of it.” With one last pat on her shoulder, he stood and finished packing the last of his things on Big Brown’s back. As Leith led Big Brown to the edge of camp, he halted by Jamie. They spoke for a few minutes. Leith held out his hand, and Jamie shook it, though the handshake turned into a manly, back-slapping sort of hug.
The sight lurched into Brandi’s stomach. Guys only hugged if they had a really, really good reason. Like they thought they might never see each other again.
She turned away, only to catch sight of Shad hugging Lady Alistair, his brother Jeremiah, and his sisters Lydia, Abigail, and Esther. He spoke with Jolene for a few minutes. After kissing his mother one last time on the cheek, Shad joined Leith, and together they led their horses out of camp.
Jamie walked over and stood next to Brandi until Shad and Leith disappeared down the trail to the south.
After a few minutes, Brandi drew herself together and faced Jamie. His eyes were wet and red-rimmed, yet his face remained free of tear streaks. “Leith asked you to look after me, didn’t he?”
Jamie nodded, but his eyes remained focused on the empty horizon. “Yes, though only until I leave with Prince Keevan’s army tomorrow morning. Lady Alistair will look after you then.”
It was so unfair. Why did Jamie get to march off to rescue Renna, and probably Leith, while she had to sit here with the children? She’d been practicing knife-fighting and sword-fighting with him. Maybe she wasn’t as good as the other boys yet, but she still could fight.
Perhaps she should’ve taken up archery instead of swordplay. At least then she could’ve joined the core of archers led by Lady Lorraine. A few girls, including Jolene, had been allowed to go with them since the archers would stay behind the main lines of fighting. And Lady Lorraine hadn’t taken no for an answer.
Why did Brandi have to stay behind? Renna was her sister. She’d need Brandi to be there when she was rescued. After all this time alone in Respen’s dungeon, she’d probably be a broken wreck, and only Brandi knew how to hold her together. She’d been doing it for over four years.
Besides, Brandi was just as old—no, older—than some of the boys going. She shouldn’t have to stay behind being bored just because she was a girl.
It really was a bunch of nonsense. If Keevan was so worried about numbers that he allowed fourteen-year-old boys along, then he should’ve gotten off that traditional high fussiness of his and let girls join.
But, no. Girls were supposed to be weak and helpless and not lift a finger to defend themselves. Well, maybe some girls, like Renna, would be content with that.
But not Brandi.
She’d just have to pretend to be a boy. She could do that. It couldn’t be that hard. They weren’t complicated. She could get away with being a girl in boy’s clothing, couldn’t she?
Plastering on her best resigned look, Brandi turned to Jamie. “I need some time alone for a while.”
“Oh.” Jamie’s shoulders slumped. “All right.”
He was disappointed. Probably because he thought they had only tonight before he marched off to war as well. But Brandi needed some time alone to see if her plan would work.
She sidled away from him, heading for her cabin. When a few other cabins hid her from view, she scooped a handful of cold ashes from one of the outdoor cook fires and approached the corral where Blizzard and a few other horses were kept.
At her call, Blizzard’s head lifted. He trotted to the fence and stuck his head over. She scratched his forehead with her free hand, then slipped between the rails. Still talking soothingly, she smeared the ashes over Blizzard. The ashes lightened his fur so that he looked like a dusty grey instead of a speckled, dark grey.
She grinned. After she finished with Blizzard, even Jamie wouldn’t recognize him. When the Resistance army left for Nalgar Castle, Brandi would go with them, and no one would stop her.
Brandi woke before anyone else in the cabin she shared with Lady Lorraine, Lady Alistair, Esther, Abigail, Lydia, and Jolene. Grabbing a set of boy’s clothes she’d hidden under her bed, her saddlebags, and a few personal items, she tiptoed down the stairs and eased the door open. Slipping through the camp, she halted in a secluded nook formed of two boulders a few yards away from the corral.
Setting the stuff on the ground, she crouched, drew her knife, and gripped a section of her hair. She loved the way her hair swished and blew in all directions in the wind. Did she really have to sacrifice it?
But she couldn’t go along with the army with long hair. Someone would recognize her. Steeling herself, she closed her eyes and sawed at her hair with the knife. Each strand parted until the whole hank of hair came off in her hand. Gritting her teeth, she did the same to the other side and the back, trimming it as best she could.
The muscles in her neck tightened at the sudden loss of weight. She smoothed the ends frizzing around her ears. It’d grow back. Eventually.
Besides, a few inches—well, a lot of inches—of hair were a small price to pay to save Leith and Renna.
Hurriedly, she dressed in the boy’s clo
thes and hid her dress. The trousers felt different against her legs than her skirt as did the loose fitting shirt against her torso. Much better for adventures.
Thankfully, she didn’t have enough of a girl’s figure to be too noticeable yet. That would’ve been a bother.
She strutted in the space between the boulders. She could get used to trousers. Her legs moved freely, without the tangle of fabric clutching at her ankles all the time. Better yet, she wouldn’t have to worry about moving the wrong way and exposing more of her leg than was proper. Not that she’d ever worried too much about that anyway.
She pulled the silver cross necklace from under the shirt collar. She fingered the cross, warmed from contact with her skin. It was the last gift Uncle Abel and Aunt Mara had given her. She couldn’t part with it. But she also couldn’t risk having it fall out from under her collar at the wrong moment.
After cutting a square of fabric from her dress, she took off the necklace, wrapped it in the fabric, and tied the bundle with another strip of fabric. She buried it in the bottom of one of her saddlebags.
After packing the rest of her things, she retrieved the bowl of ashes she’d hidden in the nook. Blizzard slept near the fence, head drooping toward the ground. His ears flicked sleepily as she slipped through the rails next to him and rubbed the ashes over his coat. He glanced at her a couple of times but went back to sleep once she’d held up her hand to show she didn’t have an apple for him.
Brandi finished covering Blizzard in ashes as the sun peeked up the slope of the mountain and the rest of the camp stirred. Eating a quick breakfast, she joined the line of boys and men claiming their supplies. The line snaked past Aindre’s blacksmith shop where he handed out weapons, through a leather worker’s station, and on to several army lieutenants.
It took forever. She rocked back and forth as the line inched forward. All the good stuff would be taken by the time she arrived. She glanced behind her. It stretched into the forest farther than she could see. At least she wasn’t last.
At last, she reached the blacksmith shop. Holding her breath, she peered at the pegs on the wall. There on its peg, that gorgeous short sword glittered in the early morning sunlight.
Aindre tromped to her. The head of a battle ax peeked over his shoulder from its sheath across his broad back. “What weapons do you need?”
She ducked her head to keep him from seeing her face and deepened her voice. “A sword. I have a knife.” She patted the knife Leith had given her.
Aindre took the short sword down from its pegs. “This should suit you.”
She took it from him. The sword was just as beautiful today. No, more beautiful.
“And, here’s a dagger and another knife. It never hurts to have a few extra weapons.” Aindre piled the weapons in her arms and pointed at the leather worker’s. “You can get your sheaths and armor over there.”
At the leather worker’s, she found a sheath for each of her new weapons along with a belt to hold all of them. One of the workers fitted her with a vest, made from layers of hardened leather, and a helmet made from the same tough leather and reinforced with strips of iron.
Brandi strutted to the next section of the line. She had a sword, heavy leather vest, and helmet. Just like a real warrior.
The boy in front of her finished with the army lieutenant. The lieutenant glanced over his paper and motioned Brandi forward. “Name?”
She’d been up half the night figuring out a name she’d remember but also wouldn’t be recognized by anyone. “Randy David of Stetterly.”
“Age?”
“Fourteen.” She drew herself up as tall as she could.
“Really?” The lieutenant’s gaze swept up and down her small frame. “All volunteers younger than sixteen need parental permission.”
That could be a problem. She caught herself before she flashed her smile and big blue eyes. That wasn’t a tactic a boy could use. Instead, she hung her head and scuffed the dirt as she’d seen Jamie do. “Well you see, sir, I don’t got parents. Respen killed them. And my guardians were executed at Nalgar Castle. I want to fight, sir. Respen killed my family. He destroyed my town.”
She held her breath. The lieutenant could try to check her story with someone from Stetterly, and he’d discover that no family by the name of David existed. But so few survivors from Stetterly made the journey to Eagle Heights that he’d be hard pressed to find them in the bustle.
“I see.” The lieutenant nodded, as if he understood. “Do you have a horse?”
She’d made it in. “Yes.”
“You’re one of the lucky ones. You’ll be able to ride instead of march.” The lieutenant scanned the papers in his hand. “You’ll be in Captain Stewart’s Riders.”
Did she dare push farther? “Which division is the Blade trainee, Jamie Cavendish, in? He’s a friend of mine, sir.”
The lieutenant consulted his lists. “He’s assigned to Captain Alistair’s Riders.”
Brandi chewed on her lip. It’d be risky to ride in the same division as Shad and Jamie. But, there was something about going into battle surrounded by friends. “Do you think I could join Captain Alistair’s Riders instead?”
“I don’t see why not.” The lieutenant marked her name on a list. “You’re all set. You can claim whatever supplies you need over there. We’re a little short on tents, so there aren’t any more available. If you want a roof over your head, you’ll have to find someone in your division who wants to share.”
“Thank you, sir.” Brandi hurried to the tables of supplies. She grabbed a thick blanket and oil skin, a canteen, and a sack of rations.
Saddling Blizzard, she strapped on her saddlebags and bedroll. When the men assembled, she slipped into a spot towards the rear of the formation.
She caught a glimpse of Jamie also slipping into the army a few rows ahead of her. He scanned the crowd of women and children waving and blowing kisses toward their husbands, fathers, and brothers. After a few minutes, his face fell.
He’d been looking for her. He’d hoped she’d see him off. He probably thought she was mad at him or something. A pang shot through her. She’d hurt him. Hopefully he’d forgive her when she had a chance to apologize, whenever that would be.
Keevan strode from the big cabin, dressed in shiny new leather armor with a bright green tunic draped over it. Even with the scar marring his face, he still looked regal. He strolled to his pale palomino horse and mounted gracefully.
Brandi’s chest swelled. Of course, the magnificent horse and rigmarole were all staging, but it still managed to be impressive.
General Stewart called them into formation. At the head of her division of riders, Shad passed along the order. Brandi lined up with the other men and boys. When the entire line of soldiers had assembled, Keevan gave the order to move out.
The women and children cheered. A few broke into songs while others blared on a variety of instruments. Brandi ducked as she passed Lady Alistair and Abigail. Her entire plan would be wrecked if Abigail recognized her.
Once she’d safely passed the Alistairs, Brandi held her head high as she rode along with the others. Blizzard’s ears pricked forward, as if he was eager to be traveling once again.
For as far as she could see, the line of soldiers stretched down the mountain and into the forest, swords glinting, leather armor and saddles creaking, banners flying.
It was time to reclaim Acktar. It was time to rescue Renna.
31
Renna twisted her fingers together, held them up to the candle, and cast a strange, misshapen shadow on the wall. Maybe if she squinted, it’d look like a horse head.
She sighed and flopped back onto the cot. After the freedom she’d enjoyed, sitting in a tiny cell grew old fast. At least Martyn had been kind enough to give her the divided skirt and ragged blue shirt she’d been wearing when captured, thankfully washed by the castle staff. Sitting in the layers of dress she’d worn to her almost-wedding would’ve been even more uncomfortable.
/> A knock rattled her door.
She sat up. “Come in.” Not that she had a choice. The lock was on the outside. But at least Martyn gave her that much dignity.
When the door opened, a slim young man with straight, brown hair and blue eyes slipped inside.
Renna bolted to her feet and backed against the far wall. He was dressed in black. A Blade. What did he want with her? She reached for the candlestick. The wax pooled at the bottom of the wick would burn painfully if she threw it into the young man’s face. “What do you want?”
He held up his hands. “I’m not here to hurt you.”
That’s when she spotted the belt around his waist, empty except for a single knife. He was nearly unarmed, though that didn’t mean he couldn’t hurt her. “Why are you here? Where’s Martyn?”
Martyn was a loyal, dutiful Blade who’d do anything Respen ordered him to do, but at least he’d never gone out of his way to harm her.
The Blade swallowed. “The First Blade doesn’t know I’m here. He’s meeting with the king, so I only have a few minutes. I talked to Leith.”
Which Blade had reported that Leith was alive? Renna scrunched her fingers in her skirt. “You’re Eighth Blade Harding.”
“Yes, I’m Ranson Harding.” The Blade bobbed his head. How old was he? With his thin shoulders and lanky legs, he couldn’t be more than fifteen, maybe sixteen years old. His eyes met hers. “He asked that I check on you, if I could.”
Warmth surged through Renna’s fingers. Leith was doing his best to watch out for her, even from so far away.
Why had this Blade done as Leith asked? He risked punishment if caught being friendly to her. “Thank you. Why’d you do it for Leith?”
“He helped me when he didn’t have to. I was wounded, and he stitched it up. He said he did it because you helped him once. Something about forgiveness and God.” Ranson’s head dipped, and his shoulders shook. “I still don’t understand.”
So lost, like all the Blades she’d met here. Martyn, Ranson, even Respen wallowed in a blackness so thick she couldn’t even imagine the choking awfulness of it. She could only try to comprehend the hurt she saw in their eyes.
Defy (The Blades of Acktar Book 3) Page 17
