Arland releases me but stays close, admonishing me from the corner of his eyes.
“If I could change the past, I would, Kate.” Perth holds up his hands, and a grimace spreads across his face. “You know the real me, and you know I fear my father. Everyone does. I did not mean for her family to suffer.”
“Kate,” Rhoswen says, placing her bruised hand on my shoulder, reminding me of what I did to the poor girl when I told Leader Dufaigh how she spoke about their family … at Perth’s demand … when he tried saving my life. “What happened to my family happened a long time ago. I did not tell you that to upset you or harm your relationship with him. I told you because you asked about my family.”
Perth steps forward, eyes focused on Rhoswen. “I am truly sorry.”
She digs her nails into my armor, nostrils flaring. “Sorry? Because of your actions, my family lies in the ground. Sorry is not good enough. Sorry does not raise the dead. Sorry does not fill the emptiness inside me. I do not trust you, but Kate does, and because she does, I tolerate you. If you let her down, you let Encardia and our people down. Prove you are worthy of my trust—prove you are worthy of hers—and maybe I will forgive you.”
What can Perth say to that? Every word she spoke is true, heartfelt, and more than I could ever offer anyone who killed my family.
“I did not mean to upset you, Kate.” Rhoswen storms toward the fire, Brit, and Flanna, then resumes stirring dinner.
He stares after the only other Ground Dweller amongst us, mouth hanging open, eyes wide. “I will not let you down, Kate, and I will not let her down either.”
My flames recede, folding in over my heart, and my confidence drains. I can’t believe someone I’ve grown to trust could be so terrible. I don’t care how long ago Perth did what he did; curse or not, people don’t change that quickly. “Prove it.”
I leave him where he stands before he sees the tears welling in my eyes. Arland stays by my side, so I’m sure he sees the waterworks, but he’s seen me cry so many times before.
“For what it is worth, I believe he feels a great deal of guilt for what happened to her family,” he says, wrapping his hand around mine. “Your anger upset him.”
“Are you going to start with that again? If so, I’m going to run away from you, too.”
Tugging me closer, he chuckles. “I am not talking about his feelings for you in that way, but in the way of you being his friend, the first person who saw good in him. He does not want to lose that.”
“I understand.” A tear slides down my face.
“Hey, Arland, would you mind if I borrow Kate to help serve dinner?” Flanna asks. She’s not crying anymore, but her cheeks are puffy, and her eyes are swollen.
“Remember Perth for the man he is becoming, not for the man he was. I fear if you lose faith in him, trouble will be the only thing gained.”
Will Perth change back if I lose faith in him? That hardly seems right, but I get what Arland’s trying to say. Don’t give the man any reason to revert, especially when he has done so much right.
Arland nods. “You may borrow her, Flanna. I still need to contact Brice.”
“Has anyone else come across daemons?” I ask.
“No.” He kisses my cheek, then heads to the edge of camp, close to Cadman and a steep hill serving as a protective wall for our temporary home. Arland sits and rests his head in his hands while Cadman stands guard beside him.
“Brit is gathering the others, and I sent Rhoswen to collect more water. Can you hand me bowls?” Flanna holds out a piece of rounded wood, the inside hand-carved. A stack of similar items rests on a burlap sack by her feet.
I grab a couple then hold them out, allowing her to spoon stew, then turn and hand the archaic bowls to Brit. My sister carries dinner to the soldiers sitting on nearby logs.
“I know how she feels,” Flanna whispers. “Leader Dufaigh is responsible for many deaths, but I realized something when you exploded.”
“What’s that?”
She fills two more bowls, then I pass them to Brit.
“Being angry is not worth it. My mother is gone. Her family is gone.” Flanna takes a deep breath and blinks hard. “Lann is gone. Our loved ones would not wish for us to go through the rest of our lives miserable.”
“Do you think Rhoswen will ever forgive him?”
Her gaze becomes distant, eyes focused beyond me. “Forgiveness is something earned. If Perth earns it, I am positive she will make amends with her past.”
“And you?”
“I doubt I will ever forgive Leader Dufaigh, but I refuse to remain angry about any of it.” Filling two more bowls, Flanna smiles. “Your mother’s counsel helped me a lot. I do not know what overcame me earlier today. Can you forgive me?”
“Consider it done.”
Brit returns for the last of the stew just as Rhoswen returns with a bucket of water.
I drape my arm over Flanna’s shoulders. “Ready to help me teach these Draíochtans about old magic?”
Somehow, her wide, blue eyes appear more innocent than ever. “Me?”
“I’m pretty sure you know what you love, so, yes, you.” I lead Flanna, Brit, and Rhoswen to the others, praying we can all find a way to forgive things that happened in the past.
I open my eyes, unable to sleep. As a child, the forest used to be my favorite place. Mom and Gary often joked if we ever got lost, I’d be the only one to survive, somehow I’d make shelter, find food, and become one with nature. Mom knew the truth, but Gary and I didn’t. And unfortunately, the barren branches of the trees provide the only shelter my army and I have over us tonight, and Flanna and Rhoswen prepared everyone’s small portions of potato stew. I think the only thing I’ve done is become one with nature, and not quite the way Gary and Mom used to laugh about.
Arland communicated with the last group before joining everyone for dinner. He discovered they haven’t encountered daemons either. The last anyone saw a coscartha, tairb, or hound was when we battled them near the stream.
I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have been afraid. If I’d just grabbed my sword, stood and fought Dughbal, this would all be over without the loss of any more lives.
But instead of being done and relaxing while staring at the stars, I spent two hours around the fire tonight, trying to teach twenty-eight other people how to use old magic. When we do encounter Dughbal and his daemons, these soldiers will be able to defend themselves with more than a tiny blue flame in their hand. Well, everyone except Vanora. Turns out some people do have a difficult time understanding the concept of love. For someone who wanted to spend the rest of her life with Perth, she surely doesn’t know how to focus on those feelings.
Perth said she conformed to his father’s ways in order to get on the family’s good side, so Vanora isn’t the same girl from their childhood. It seems her broken heart has turned into an obsession. She refuses to be nice to anyone, cannot think of a single thing she cares enough about in order to ignite old magic. Which means Vanora cannot stand on her own in a fight.
And that makes her dangerous. I’d like to send Vanora home, but that’s not fair. She came here to fight, and I have to allow her to follow through with that, no matter how much I worry.
There are so many lives at stake. I cannot possibly be responsible for them all. The thought is ridiculous, but I also cannot prevent the guilt from mounting inside my chest, pressing on my lungs with the weight of a wrecking ball.
Arland shifts his hips and pulls me closer to him.
Nuzzling into his neck, I breathe him in, allow his dewy scent to calm me.
“I know you are awake,” he whispers.
“Did my thoughts wake you?”
“Your thoughts as well as your movements.” He slides his hand under my armor then down my back, rubbing slow, lazy circles against my tunic, numbing my skin.
“I’m worried about Rhoswen and Perth, about Vanora and my sister, about Flanna—I’m worried about everyone, Arland. I want to be done with t
he war …” Memory of my mom’s last gift to me overpowers my thoughts. “Do you think we should open the tin my mother gave me now?”
“Your tin came with a hefty price. If we open it too soon, your mother said we would stray from the path of Light.”
“She’s said a lot of things—”
“Regardless of how cryptic she has been, she has always done what is in your best interest. Maybe mine, too.” Arland presses his lips to my forehead. “There will be a time when you know the tin needs to be opened, but now is not that time. You need to rest. Tomorrow will be a full day of scouting and fighting—assuming we find anything to fight.”
Arland turns onto his back, and I snuggle my head into the crook of his arm and chest.
“Do not give in so soon, Kate. We have a long way to go. And we know we will win.”
“But at what cost?”
“Sleep now. Worry later.” He drags his fingers through my hair.
I sigh and force the negative thoughts out of my head. We will get through this. We will win. No matter the cost. No matter how ha—
A twig snaps in the distance, making my skin jolt with awareness.
We’re not alone.
Chapter Nine
“Shouldn’t we wake everyone?” I ask, sneaking away from the sleeping soldiers. Arland and I are searching for whatever caused the noise, but I don’t like the idea of leaving the others here without them at least being aware.
He puts a finger to his lips.
“Magic?” My word is so quiet, I’m not sure if I even heard myself speak.
Arland shakes his head, drawing his sword from its sheath. He leans forward, weapon raised, gaze flitting around the dark woods. He’s a skilled hunter; I remember that from my dreams. And the way he moves, so slow, methodical—Arland’s like a tiger stalking his prey.
“Animal?”
The glare he casts over his shoulder is enough of an answer.
I stop following. I’m not the most agile of creatures in the thicket. I’m almost always tripping over fallen logs. If Arland is about to kill an animal, I’ll be a distraction.
Taking three graceful steps, Arland rushes for cover behind a tree. He places his back along the chipped bark then meets my eyes, wearing a smile saying he knows exactly what he’s doing. Arland turns, then thrusts his sword into the neck of a deer, and the animal falls.
I’m certain I’m not a hunter. Taking a life is hard, but I never even saw the deer until Arland struck it with his sword.
Kneeling, he stares at his kill.
“Get back to the others.” Arland’s tone is urgent but quiet.
I lean forward, afraid to take a step in either direction. I won’t leave Arland alone, but I don’t want to be too far away from the soldiers either. “What is it?”
“Shifter.” He gets to his feet and is by my side in an instant, worry marking his forehead. “Move quickly.”
We run through the underbrush that snags our leather pants every opportunity the prickly plants get, holding hands all the way. If that deer was a shifter, it knew where we are, which means the others know where we are.
“Why are they hiding?” I jump over a small tree trunk and snag my boot on a nub, but manage to keep my balance.
“I am not positive.” Arland looks over his shoulder, somehow maintaining his fast pace without falling. “But we are not being followed.”
“If daemons only do as instructed”—I duck to avoid a low-hanging branch—”and aren’t attacking us, then they aren’t supposed to. What do you think Dughbal is up to?”
Reaching the edge of the campsite, we stop. A faint, red glow emanates from the burning embers on the fire. If we weren’t on the run from evil, stumbling upon this scene might make me think a group of friends went camping and are resting for the night. Albeit oddly dressed friends. Most people don’t go hiking in armor.
Arland gives my hand a squeeze, drops it, then stalks toward a sleeping Cadman. “I intend to find out.”
“Kate?” Brit sits up and wraps her arms around her shins. “What’s going on?”
“Shifter,” I whisper.
My sister shudders.
Taking a seat near her, I wait for Arland to give me instructions. This situation is different from when we traveled between Watchers Hall and Willow Falls. Now, we’re seeking a fight, hoping to battle. Before, our journey was all about hiding and saving ourselves. I’m not skilled in the art of war, but Arland is, and watching him fit into his natural role is fine by me. He’s certain, courageous, and he’s downright amazing to watch.
Shaking his head, Arland flashes me a grin and nudges a boot into Cadman’s arm, waking his number one. Or is it that we’re Cadman’s number one? He has more information than the rest of us, and he keeps it all a secret, just like my mother.
Cadman sits up, rubbing his deep-set eyes. “Is everything okay, sir?”
“I killed a shifter a mere hundred yards or so away from here. It posed as a doe. Not only does that prove some animals live, it also proves Dughbal will attempt to use food against us … again. Send four scouts, one in each direction.”
“Yes, sir.”
Cadman walks around the sleeping soldiers, hand on his chin as though he’s trying to figure out who to send on the mission. He nudges Tristan first, then Kent, Dunn, and Annan—the man from the communications room at Willow Falls. The soldier has a difficult time getting to his feet; his knees buckle beneath him.
“Are you injured, Annan?” Cadman asks, offering the man a hand.
“Old and tired, yes. Injured, no.” Annan laughs, grabbing hold of Cadman, then lumbers to his feet. “You require my service?”
Stepping back, Cadman motions for Annan and the others to follow. They launch into a flurry of conversation outside earshot. Tristan rocks on his toes. The young soldier appears as though he’s ready to take off running at the chance to scout on a mission this large. Kent glances at me and smiles, a nervous, sort of grimacing thing.
I return his smile, heart breaking in two; he’s brave but still so childlike.
Arland wakes a few of the other soldiers, then gives them some sort of directions, waving his hands around and pointing at various places. The men and women form a circle around the campsite and draw their weapons, eyes to the miles of black forest.
My guess is Arland expects an attack, and I’ll bet he doesn’t expect Dughbal to be present. He probably wants to weaken us, maybe even give us hope by allowing us to win a few battles, before he makes his big move to kill me and use my power to destroy all of life itself.
“Sir,” Cadman calls, turning away from the scouts. “They are ready.”
Arland joins the small group. They exchange more words I cannot hear, then he places his fist over his heart and bows. The others mimic his action, then head into the woods, all rushing off in different directions.
“So, what do we do?” Brit asks, hooking her arm through mine.
Resting my head on hers, I sigh. “I don’t know. Wait? Hopefully when the scouts return, we’ll have a good idea what we’re up against.”
“Or we will have something good to eat,” Flanna chimes in, settling down on the other side of me, wrapped in a thin, black quilt.
I rub my stomach. The meal Flanna and Rhoswen provided was good but not quite satisfying. I could go for a nice filet mignon, or even a chocolate chip cookie. Anything from modern-day Virginia would be nicer than what I’ve eaten since entering Encardia. “What do you mean?”
Staring into the dying fire, she smiles. “In the early days of the war, the scouts always returned with food. They would kill an animal and abandon their quest to find daemons or answers.”
Brit yawns and stretches her arms, then nuzzles back into me. “Why would they be so careless?”
Arland pats Cadman’s shoulder and then walks toward us, holding my gaze along the way. My insides squirm. I miss our alone time. We’re newlyweds. This is not exactly my idea of a honeymoon.
“They were not careless,
Brit.” Flanna laughs. “We went from living a simple life, surviving off the land, enjoying a time of relative peace, and then we had nothing. Missing a meal was not in our nature. So when scouts went out and had an opportunity to bring home an animal, the prospect of dinner was more important.”
“Until they brought home shifters,” Arland says. “There is nothing worse than your food coming back from the dead and attacking you. So many of our people starved from fear.”
Scooting down, Flanna makes room for her cousin and tips her head toward the empty spot next to me.
“I will stand with the men tonight. The three of you should rest so you can take next shift.” He offers me his hand. “May I speak to you for a moment?”
“Of course.” I take his hand, ignoring Brit and Flanna’s ooh’s. They’re like a couple of schoolgirls. But I love them for their consistently bright spirits … well, at least their spirits are consistent when we’re not near the caves.
Arland leads me from the site, into the forest and away from the dim, orange firelight. He scans the darkness, his sweaty hand clasped around mine.
“What’s wrong?”
“There may be a lot of nights like this one, a lot of nights where I stand with the soldiers while you rest, and then times you stand and I rest. I am worried about your dreams, your visions. Will you be able to endure them without tears?”
Tugging my hand away from his, I cross my arms over my chest. “Are you afraid I’m going to endanger our people?”
He reaches for me, but I back away.
“I am not concerned you will endanger our people; I worry you will make them afraid. Visions are powerful. If any one of these people gets the idea you are a Seer, and they witness you crying, they may lose hope.”
I’m not sure his explanation makes me any happier. Everything I’ve done has been for these people. The meaning of my existence on this planet and the one I left has been solely to bring Light to this land. Why would I do anything to jeopardize that? Or why would a dream I wouldn’t have to explain to anyone affect their hope?
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