by Brandon Barr
Aven pulled Winter close and looked fiercely at her. “Trusting the Makers is the last thing I will do. They don’t deserve our trust any longer. I shouldn’t have to be arguing this. Look where we’re standing! In the ashes of Mother and Father. Of Harvest, and Gar, and Sky.”
Winter tugged away from him, pain etched deep into her face. “You’re wrong, Aven. You don’t understand.”
He heard uncertainty in her voice. His words had struck something.
Winter turned away. He saw her look down at the floor of the hovel, at the spot where Mother and Father’s bodies had been found.
He suddenly felt disgusted with himself. His words had been cruel and spoken without care.
Slowly, Winter turned back to face him. “You’ve never met a Maker like I have. I trust them. And I will fight against the Baron. The gods gave me my gift for a purpose, and I’ll not fear my destiny.” She turned and began climbing up the side of the hovel.
Tears stung Aven’s eyes. “Wait,” he pleaded. “I’m scared of what you’re going to do. You know how I love you. You’re all I have left.”
At the top of the hovel, she turned. “We have the bond of the womb. I will always love you, Aven. No matter what happens. But I can’t let my love for you hold me back from doing what is right.” A small, crumpled smile formed on her lips. “It’s time for me to be brave.”
She turned and disappeared out of sight.
Chapter Thirteen
AVEN
The sun beat down on him as he dug in the dark soil along the roadside. Unlike before, the work felt hollow, as if every shovelful of dirt he dug was in vain. Would he live long enough to grow sape on this new row of trellises? What would happen if he arrived at the Baron’s fortress alone?
More importantly, what would the Baron do to Winter if she didn’t answer the summons?
These questions had tortured Aven ever since Winter had left him, her mind set on resisting the Baron. Winter’s determination had left his mind in a fog. Nothing felt certain.
She was more important than anything in the world. He would readily die to save her. Without her, what was there to live for?
When he’d gone back to their home earlier that day, he’d found Winter sitting cross-legged in her room. She was faced away from the door, working on something he could not see.
He’d wanted to raise the issue all over and beg her to reconsider her decision, but he knew it was not the right time. The wounds from the foolish words he’d spoken to her were still fresh, and he needed to give her room to breathe and work out her emotions.
And for him, digging a hole for a new trellis post was the only remedy to the nauseating questions in his head.
What did the Baron have planned? What was the reason for the summons?
Aven glanced up and saw a horse and rider racing along the road. As the rider neared, his chest tightened. It was Harvest’s half-brother, Pike.
Hatred issued from every shadowed crease of Pike’s brow. Dark bags of skin sagged under his eyes, as if he hadn’t slept in days. When Pike stopped on the road beside him, he stared at Aven in silence, his eyes cutting mercilessly into him.
It was the first time he’d seen Pike since that fateful night when he’d pleaded with the Baron for mercy. It was clear Pike’s hatred for him had sharpened.
Aven gripped the shovel tighter. It would make a decent weapon if need be.
“Have you come to stare at me?” asked Aven. “Or do you have something to say?”
Pike pulled a small flask from his saddlebag and took a long drink. “You miserable bastard,” he said, returning the flask to its place. “I want you to know I pray for your death every day. Every breath from your lungs fouls the air. I will silence your heart one day. Mark my words. As soon as I have the chance, I’ll take it.”
Aven leaned forward on the shovel to steady himself. “Why are you here?”
Pike spun his horse around, and the stallion snorted. A knife appeared in his hand, and his eyes fixed again on Aven. “I’m here to give you a message from my father. You and your sister come tonight, and do exactly as you’re asked, or the Baron will have both your heads. That’s a promise I hope to see fulfilled.” Pike slashed the knife near his own throat, reinforcing his message.
“And don’t even think about running away,” he added. “Remember, we’re always watching. There’s no escape for you.”
Pike licked his lips and then, for a brief moment his face erupted with pain, tears filling his eyes. His voice cracked as he shouted a desperate command to his stallion. Then he took off in a clatter, leaving a small dust trail along the road.
Aven dropped the shovel and turned towards the stump that covered his home. There was no avoiding talking to Winter now. He had to tell her what Pike had said. He had to convince her to come with him. There was no other path to go down.
They were watching.
Inside the hovel, Aven made his way to Winter’s small room. He hesitated in the narrow hall, searching for the right words, the right approach. Finally, he sighed, hoping simply that restating Pike’s own words would somehow push her to see things his way and not further solidify her choice to join the rebellion.
He slowly turned the corner into Winter’s room. He gripped the open frame of her doorway.
Winter was gone.
WINTER
It was one of the few times Winter found herself uneasy while walking through the woods. Leaving Aven without telling him where she was going made her nervous, especially under the current circumstances. She’d had to leave, and speaking to him would have only made things worse.
Back at the burned-out hovel, Rabbit had whispered of a secret meeting place. Winter was eager to arrive, not only to hear more of what the resistance might have in mind, but to propose an idea she’d had. A risky plan that, if it worked, would be invaluable to the farmers in the resistance.
Winter stopped and looked over her shoulder. She scanned the woods behind her until she was certain there were no Watchers following her. She knew they ventured into these wooded glens and hills between farm plots on occasion. More than once she’d been quietly weaving a root bracelet or a flowered tiara in the crook of a boulder when she’d seen one of them tread through the forest undergrowth. Where the Watcher had been traveling to, or from, she could only guess.
Winter glanced over the grass and leaves along the meadow’s edge as she walked, searching for the small bird she had seen in the vision, determined to save it from the toad who would devour it.
A bird’s warble sounded from a dense thicket of trees ahead. It was a strange, unfamiliar bird call. Winter stopped and scanned the forest.
The warble sounded again, but this time Winter caught movement. A hand waving.
She hurried forward, seeing Rabbit’s friendly face protruding from the dense stand of trees.
“You made it, Winter,” came Rabbit’s quiet voice.
Winter slipped into the shadowed tangle of trees. Rabbit’s brown, freckled face glowed in a shaft of sunlight that had found a hole through the leaves overhead. She had the loveliest large eyes, and if Winter didn’t know her as she did, it would have been difficult to see the warrior that lay inside. A warrior willing to risk everything for the farmers’ cause.
“Where is Gray Bear?” asked Winter.
“Busy making plans with others. He told me to give you this, though.”
Rabbit reached out and embraced Winter. It was a rather painful hug, as Rabbit seemed to be mimicking Gray Bear’s strength.
Rabbit drew back and gave a soft laugh. “Thank you. For coming here. I can’t imagine what you’ve suffered because of the Baron and his Watch. It’s for you and Aven, and for Violet and Coriander’s family—and all the others who’ve lost loved ones —that I and so many others have dedicated ourselves to fighting against the Baron.”
Rabbit’s eyes bore into her own. Winter could feel the woman’s anger and passion, and its intensity stirred her emotions, uniting the two of them.
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��Once the gathering happens tomorrow,” said Rabbit, “then we’ll know how the Baron plans to maneuver. And I swear to you, if he won’t meet our demands, it will be the last move he ever makes. My mate and I, and many others, won’t hesitate in delivering his sentence.”
Rabbit’s words were like food to Winter’s hunger. She, more than most, wanted the Baron’s guilt to catch up with him.
“I don’t know what you have planned for me, but I may have a way to help.”
Rabbit nodded. “What did you have in mind?”
“I offer myself as a spy.”
Rabbit hesitated a moment. “You mean, you’re going to answer the summons?”
“Yes. If I can learn what the Baron has planned for tomorrow, I can relay it to you and Gray Bear. I just have to find a way to get the information to you.”
Rabbit placed her hand on Winter’s shoulder. “I fear for your life if you go. The Baron could kill you and your brother and tell us a story of him sending you away. No one would know the truth of what happened.”
“That is possible,” said Winter. “But I suspect he intends to use us in his own plans. And if so, I want to upset them tomorrow.”
Rabbit smiled solemnly. “I didn’t realize how strong you are, Winter. We can’t thank you enough for this risk you’re willing to take. Whatever Rhaudius has planned, be our eyes and ears as best you can. You won’t have to leave the fortress. I know how to get in. I should have an opportunity to contact you late tonight.”
Winter nodded. “Are you planning to attack the Baron and his soldiers at the gathering?”
“If we must, yes. But first, we have some terms to negotiate. Anantium, the royal city, has laws against the Baron’s tyrannical contracts, as well as laws against his twisted forms of justice. Even though we are outside Anantium’s jurisdiction, we will try and hold him to those laws.”
Rabbits words were like a revelation.
“How do you know so much about the outside?”
“We have good ears,” said Rabbit. “It is not uncommon for me or others to scale the fortress walls at night and eavesdrop. And besides that, there are a few older farmers who’ve been granted permission to go to Anantium.”
Winter scowled, disbelieving. “But aren’t they accompanied by soldiers?”
“Yes, they are. But the soldiers always stop at taverns on the long journey. The last time Foxjoy journeyed to the royal city, he had an entire night to talk and ask questions of the other tavern patrons while his two guards stumbled outside to howl at the moon before falling unconscious from drink. I swear to you, Winter, outside the Baron’s land there is a good life. Tyrants are not allowed, and farmers are not robbed and enslaved by the royals’ contracts.”
Hope stirred in Winter’s chest. She searched her memories for the scraps of stories and rumors gleaned over the years—rumors of the farms that lay within the boundaries of Anantium’s protection. They were true! Her mind turned to other things she’d heard. The royal city was supposed to hold the most fascinating prospect of all to Winter. The Guardians were there. And the God’s Eye portal.
“Is there really a portal?” asked Winter. “And is it guarded by people from another world?”
“Yes,” said Rabbit.
The thought of those distant places and people awed Winter. A portal through which men and women from other worlds came to live on Loam…they were not stories that had grown with the telling, they were true stories.
“Is it true some farmers surrounding Anantium have no contracts? That they own their own land?”
“Yes,” said Rabbit with a smile. “They are called free farms. It is hope like that which gives fuel to our cause. Imagine there being no curfew. No restrictions on travel. And imagine keeping every coin of profit from what your farm produces.”
The idea of such a possibility felt as if conjured from a land of dreams. She understood Gray Bear and Rabbit’s hunger for freedom. Her encounter with Leaf, and the visions he’d given her, were a kind of freedom. Promising her that the Baron’s cruel farmland was not her destiny. She would see other sights. Maybe even other worlds.
Her hand unconsciously slid down to the vial where she had placed Whisper for safekeeping. She trusted Leaf. He would lead her. That’s why she was here, now.
She was a chosen vessel of the Makers.
“Your mate said he wasn’t afraid to die for freedom,” said Winter. “Are you?”
“No,” said Rabbit.
Winter took Rabbit’s hand. “Neither am I.”
Chapter Fourteen
AVEN
He felt like a man lost in a cavern with no hint of light to lead him into the daylight. Every choice that lay before him was a blind stumble in the dark.
Ahead rose the fortress, a gray mass under a rising half-moon. The crimson glow of the sunset splashed a bloody tint upon the upper ramparts.
What could he possibly tell the Baron when he arrived there alone?
In a sickening way, he felt the same as he had months ago, when he was racing to the fortress to beg for mercy. This time, it was to beg for Winter’s life. But after the threat that Pike had delivered, any hope felt foolish and empty.
There was, however, another option. But it felt even grimmer than the path that led to the fortress.
He could turn around and join the rebel farmers. The Baron’s farmland was indeed boiling with rebellion. On his way here, more than one farmer had stopped him to swear oaths of action if the Baron harmed him or his sister. It seemed Gray Bear had spread the word quickly about the different summons he and his sister had received.
Did they really believe that they could overthrow the Watch, or that the Baron wasn’t aware of their plans? Had they not learned anything from his parents’ deaths and the deaths of so many others?
The uncertainty made him feel physically ill. The last time he took this path, he had five lives weighing on him. Now he wondered if he was carrying the entire community.
No, he told himself. You can’t carry that burden. It’s not your responsibility.
He wouldn’t make himself responsible for any more lives than he had to. Winter’s was enough.
Ahead, the road led through a thick stand of trees. As Aven approached the trees, a cloaked figure stepped onto the road, dimly lit by the last violet traces of sunglow.
Aven halted and tried to make out who it was. Was it another farmer swearing violence? Or was this one of the Baron’s men?
The questions lingered uncomfortably, as did the stranger’s silence.
“Who’s there?” called Aven as boldly as he dared.
The figure lowered the hood. Aven saw a full head of dark hair and a familiar face.
“Can’t you recognize your own sister when she’s standing right in front of you?”
Aven’s heart leaped at Winter’s voice. He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her.
“You’ve decided to come!” he said.
“I have,” she said cheerfully. She took his hand in hers and tapped, I’ve come as a spy.
Aven’s relief disappeared. He stared at her, the message flicking like a snake tongue against his heart. Why would you—
Winter pressed her free hand against his mouth and looked around.
Quiet, she tapped. I may have been followed here.
Aven looked around, too. He saw no sign of anyone. But then, the night he and Harvest had been overheard, he hadn’t seen anyone, either.
“You’re spying for Gray Bear?”
“Not for him. I’m doing it for all the farmers. It was my idea.”
Aven wrestled with conflicting emotions. She was here, wasn’t she? As long as the Baron didn’t find out what she was up to, everything could still proceed as normal. If only Winter didn’t do anything stupid.
Please be safe, he tapped. Don’t do anything rash.
“You should know me better than that,” said Winter lightly.
“It’s not something to joke about,” said Aven, then added, “Pike came by ea
rlier. He said if we don’t do what is asked of us, we’ll be killed.”
Winter put her free hand on his shoulder. With her other hand, she tapped, I’m a spy remember? My plan is to play along. Stop worrying.
Winter raised her chin. “And Aven, remember. What will happen, will happen. Trust the Makers.”
He squeezed her hand and together they walked the road in silence.
Just around a bend in the road, the dark outline of the fortress loomed large in the sky. Aven could see the tall outer gates. A bird flew low across their path and disappeared into the trees.
Suddenly, Winter tore after it.
Confused, Aven ran after her, noticing that she snatched up a stick as she ran. The bird landed on a fallen tree, but at her approach, it took to the air again. Winter ran to the spot, raised the stick and stabbed it down into what looked like a stone. A moment later Aven realized she’d skewered a giant gray toad. The orange in her eyes glowed fiercely in the dying sunlight as she stood over it, panting.
“Why did you do that?” he asked.
“I had a vision.” Winter’s voice trembled, and her hand slipped unconsciously down to the shape of Whisper’s glass vial hidden inside her shirt.
Aven nudged the dying creature with his shoe. Its legs jerked then quivered in the air. “So you killed this toad to stop it from happening?”
“Yes. It was going to eat that bird.”
Aven sighed. He’d known she’d had a vision. Now she’d confirmed it.
“What difference does it make?” Aven asked. “Does it make any difference at all?”
“Do you remember what I told you? What the Maker said to me after he pulled me from the river?”
Aven looked up at the distant hills. “That was years ago. I’ve forgotten your exact words.”
“He told me my gift would save more than it would kill.”
Aven eyed the impaled creature at his feet. Then his thoughts turned to mother and father. He looked at Winter. “Five dead and who has been saved? One bird?” said Aven with quiet wrath. “I’d say that makes the Maker a liar.”
