by Marlow York
“I’m sorry.” Cypress’s voice broke through my thoughts.
I sniffed and blinked away more tears. “For what?”
“Everything. Your clan, your family, the Grakkir and Tarek. I can’t imagine.” He shook his head, meeting my eyes. “You don’t deserve to bear all this alone just because you have the Ancient Fire. It’s not your fault.”
I averted my eyes. How could he know my guilt? “I’ll do what I have to. I don’t need anyone to feel bad for me.”
Cypress was quiet for a long time, and I immediately regretted how dismissive I’d been toward his sympathy. I watched his hands and the way his long fingers touched the grass, brushing gently against the delicate strands without damaging or plucking them like I had. The green blades leaned towards him, like a cat bumping into someone for attention.
My gaze traveled upward and rested on a leather cord that disappeared under his shirt. I hadn’t noticed it even in our many days together. “Is that a necklace?”
His hand jumped to the cord. “Yeah. A gift from my parents.” He pulled the string and revealed a small glass bottle closed with a cork.
My eyes strained to focus in the dim light. “A plant?”
“Yup.” He smiled and stared at the tiny sprout nestled in a pinch of dirt. “When I first became a trader, my father stuck this little guy in the bottle and my mother gave it to me. She said, ‘No matter where you go, you will always have part of the forest with you.’ It was my father’s idea, but he was too embarrassed to give it to me himself. He’s not exactly the sentimental type.”
“I didn’t think your mother was either.”
Cypress threw his head back and laughed. “That’s very true!” His expression faded. “I wonder if I’ll see them again. I get the feeling the path we are traveling only leads to death. The question is, who will die and who will survive?”
My lips parted with surprise. “Why would you say that?”
“Because odds are, I’ll be one to die sooner rather than later.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t predict who would live and who would die, or if any of us would survive. The City’s powers were greater than we could ever imagine. There was no sense assuming we stood a chance the way things were now.
“It’s wise to think of death, but dwelling on it or waiting for its arrival never helps.” I imagined what Tarek would say, something about a Warrior not fearing death while plunging head-first into battle. I stopped myself because I wasn’t Tarek and I hadn’t trained my whole life as a Warrior. I was Valieri, the last Fire Bringer, a girl who missed her family and wanted nothing more than to see her sister again.
I looked at Cypress. “Whether you’re the first to die or the last doesn’t matter. What’s important is you’re here and you’re trying to help.”
Cypress stared at me a long while. I felt his worry like a backpack full of rocks. He forced a small smile. “I’ll take your word for it. You have more experience than I do.”
He set his hand on my arm. Instinctively, I twitched away, thinking of the fire burning through my blood, knowing he would feel the unnatural heat of my skin. Then I remembered, I didn’t need to hide it from him.
“Sorry,” I mumbled.
“It’s alright.” His voice was kind, but his frown suggested I’d hurt his feelings.
A lifetime of self-protection screamed at me to avoid human contact, but I silenced that voice. I’d opened up to him in ways I’d never been able to, and after our conversation I felt like I knew him better. I could trust him.
I leaned towards him, letting our arms touch. His was cool, and he didn’t pull away when he felt the heat I knew radiated from my body. Instead, he smiled and stayed there. It was more skin to skin contact than I’d had with anyone outside my immediate family. I was surprised to realize how much I enjoyed it.
I grinned, turning my attention to the Boulder Fields. We sat quietly and watched the stars shift across the sky, the silence disrupted by nothing more than the whispering wind.
Chapter 10
Our motley bunch trudged eastward through the forest. An orphan Fiero adopted by Grakkir, a Secaran trader, a female Grakkir Warrior, and two Animal Gods. Surely the Ancient Gods would have looked upon us scratching their heads in bewilderment.
“Or perhaps they would be happy to see the clans working together again,” Saven mused, reading my mind.
I smiled. “Do you have any memory of those times?”
“Scarcely.” Saven became thoughtful. “My soul was alive then, long before I found this body and came to the mortal world. But most events before I found you are blurred, as though someone else was describing their dream to me.”
I wondered what that must have been like. An Ancient God like Saven’s mother probably possessed many lifetimes’ worth of wisdom.
Saven hissed slowly in agreement, thinking fondly of his beloved mother.
“The air is impure,” Cypress said suddenly.
He gently reached for the nearest maple tree and grasped a single leaf without pulling it from the branch. He closed his eyes and furrowed his brow, concentrating and listening. He frowned. “She says there is smoke in the air. It’s distant, but it makes the trees gasp for breath several miles from here.”
“Trees can gasp?” Anza asked dubiously.
Cypress shrugged one shoulder. “It’s just a figure of speech.”
“What type of smoke?” I asked. “Like from a wood-burning stove or from bombs?” My stomach clenched as I remembered the acrid stench of the City’s fire bombs, concocted of unnatural substances.
Cypress concentrated on the tree, his lips moving subtly without making a sound. “It’s burning wood, likely from a village. Edgewood is this way. I’ve never been there but my people have traded with them before.”
“We should go check it out,” I suggested.
“There are no clans with Ancient Blood around here,” Anza said. “It would be a waste of time.”
“Cypress just said his people know them. Even normal people could be potential allies,” I countered.
“People in this area will not be able to fight. The City has too much control, even out here. Besides, those without Ancient Blood don’t know our struggle. Why should they help us?”
“Because even the Powerless Ones have suffered under the City’s rule.” Cypress stepped beside me, arms folded across his chest.
Anza and I stared at each other for a long time, both set in our stubbornness and convinced we were right. Mjoll growled slowly, as though impatient.
“Vote?” Anza barked, turning to the mountain lion. “What is there to vote about? The most logical course is to seek allies who have a genuine ability to fight against the City.”
“How will we know they don’t fit that criteria if we don’t ask them?” Cypress said.
Anza opened her mouth to respond, then quickly closed it. Exasperated, she looked up at Saven. “Let me guess. You feel the same way?”
Saven hissed and nodded. “Of course, you can stay behind if you don’t agree with us.”
“Then I guess it’s settled.” I brushed past her.
Anza huffed once, then silently followed us. I almost felt her eyes burning a hole through my back.
It wasn’t long before I spotted curling smoke rising above the treetops. I swallowed hard, feeling strangely nervous. “You guys are sure these are just normal people? Powerless, I mean.”
Cypress gave a single assured nod. “The Secara trade with them sometimes, but since Breen didn’t make it through the tunnel.…” He paused and swallowed the catch in his throat. “They may be happy to see us or angry not to get their wares. It all depends on how much they’ve struggled lately.”
“Struggled?” I asked.
“Edgewood is not a thriving town.” Cypress let out a long breath. “The people are poor, relying mostly on deliveries from the City, but those have always been few and far between. Likely less frequent with the City’s ch
ange in focus.”
He seemed worried for the people of Edgewood, or perhaps how our reception would go. “Do they know about your powers?”
Cypress shook his head. “I suggest you two hide your tattoos and the Animal Gods stay out of sight.”
Saven and Mjoll both made noises of protest while Anza crinkled her nose. “You expect us to hide who we are?”
“Sometimes that’s how you survive,” Cypress replied calmly. He looked at me and I nodded.
“I think that’s smart.” I removed an old shirt from my bag and ripped it in half, passing one piece to Anza. Begrudgingly, she followed my lead and wrapped it like a scarf around her neck and chest. I pulled out another cloth and gave it to her.
“For your hair,” I explained when she stared at me.
“Really?” She scoffed.
“Dreadlocks are entirely a Grakkir hairstyle. You’ll give yourself away the moment anyone sees you,” Cypress said.
“It could be dangerous,” Saven warned.
“Do you consider these people a threat?” I asked Cypress.
He almost laughed at the idea. “Not at all. They’re too busy trying not to starve to death to worry about fighting with anyone.”
I looked at Saven. His mind tumbled with worry and the stubborn need to protect me. “Stay in the forest, just along the outskirts of the village. Track me as best as you can. If we need help, you’ll be the first to know.”
The two gods exchanged looks, perhaps thinking the same thing: how leaving their companion’s side went against everything they were born to do. Still, they agreed, and by the time the village’s wooden walls came into view, they had disappeared into the forest, each wandering along opposite sides of the small settlement.
Despair hung over the town like fog. Two sentries armed with simple wooden clubs eyed us from a watchtower as we approached the closed gate. “That’s far enough!” one barked. I heard fatigue in his voice.
Cypress raised his hands, showing he was unarmed. My eyes flicked to the sword on Anza’s back and my war axe suddenly felt heavier.
“We come peacefully.” Cypress smiled. “I’m a Secara trader, and these are my friends.”
“Where is your caravan, trader?” the guard said. “Your delivery is a week late.”
Cypress’s jaw twitched as he frowned. “The trader sent your way has, unfortunately, met an unforeseen accident. We managed to recover some of the wares he had with him.”
“Accident?” the second guard asked. He hardly looked old enough to be called a man.
“Killed. Likely by the City.” Cypress’s voice was thick with sorrow and anger.
The young guard turned to the other, who looked both worried and sympathetic. “I am sorry to hear about your friend,” the older man said. “You may enter, but I’m afraid you’ll find most here need more than you have and can give less than you require.”
“We need to speak to your leader,” I chimed in.
The guards’ faces fell. “Unfortunately, Amos is no longer with us. His wife, Lana, stands in his place, but she is not able to see visitors at this time.”
The three of us exchanged looks. Cypress swallowed hard before replying. “We’re sorry to hear of your loss. If it’s the same to you, we’d still like to come inside and give the wares we have, as they are rightfully yours.”
The older guard nodded and disappeared behind the wall. A moment later, we heard a hollow thunk and the gate opened with a moaning creak. As we passed the guard, I saw the hollows in his cheeks and dark circles under his eyes. I nodded to show my appreciation, but he looked too tired and distant to notice.
Edgewood was smaller than the Grakkir and Fiero villages, its one narrow street lined with a few run-down stalls and splintered wood buildings. The villagers stared at us with cold, world-weary eyes. The children, few as they were, didn’t run around and play. Instead, they crouched in the dirt and watched us curiously. The youngest ones sat motionless in their mother’s laps.
“This place feels like death,” Anza murmured. Her hard gaze surveyed every nook and cranny, keeping an eye out for potential threats.
“Follow me,” Cypress said.
At the very end of the road stood a house just as unremarkable as the others. A single guard sat on a tree stump in the front yard. He worked hard to stand and address us. “Lana is not seeing visitors.”
“It will only take a moment,” Cypress said kindly. “We come seeking aid.”
“No one can help you here.” The guard’s voice was more sad than angry. His stoic expression held troubles etched across his cheeks, pulling at his lips, hardening his eyes. What he really meant was, the people here needed more help than they could give.
I pulled my backpack off and loosened the drawstring. We scarcely had enough supplies for the journey, but I knew they needed food more than we did. I pulled out the glass jar of peaches Cypress had found in Breen’s pack and passed it to the guard. “Tell Lana we are sorry for her loss.”
The guard took the jar, surprise and gratitude warming his face. Cypress offered a small jar filled with seeds. “If you plant them immediately, they should produce vegetables by the end of fall. Be sure to save seeds after the harvest and plant them next spring.”
“Young man, it is too late in the season for planting,” the guard said patiently.
“Just trust me,” Cypress insisted.
The guard took the jar and eyed it curiously. “I’ll take your word for it. The Secara have a reputation for bountiful crops. Our gardens could use some help.” He gestured to the side of the house where a long patch of dirt disappeared behind the building. A few spindly sprouts struggled in the dry soil.
“I could help you.” Cypress opened his hand for the jar of seeds.
The guard shrugged, passing the jar back. “Feel free. I’m not sure what can be done, but we appreciate the effort.”
Cypress took the jar and stepped toward the garden. He took a clump of dirt and thoughtfully ran it through his fingers. I could feel the slightest pressure of energy radiating from him as he called upon his powers. Then he poked holes in the soil, dropping a single seed in each hole. He continued down the row, disappearing around the side of house. Knowing the Secara’s powers, I wouldn’t be surprised if those seeds provided enough food to feed half the village for a season.
I looked at Anza, who stared back at me for a long moment. Finally, she sighed and rummaged around in her bag for something useful. She pulled out two fresh rabbit pelts and thrust them at the guard. “They will make a good pair of mittens. I’m sure it gets very cold here.” She cast me an annoyed look, but I just sneered at her.
“I’ve planted the seeds.” Cypress returned from the backyard with an empty jar. “Be sure to water them immediately and whenever the soil gets too dry.”
“I appreciate it, but we have nothing to repay you with.”
Cypress waved his hand. “Share your crops with the rest of the villagers and I’ll consider that payment enough.”
Anza tittered.
The guard seemed taken aback by our generosity. “I will let Lana know who these gifts came from. Please, what are your names?”
I spoke up. “Cypress, Anza, and—”
“Valieri?”
I turned in alarm at the sound of my name. A man stood several feet away, carrying a huge bundle of logs on his back.
“Darvin?” Without thinking, I closed the gap between us and hugged him. He squeezed me with his free arm then pulled away and stared at my face.
“You escaped?” His voice shook with emotion, or maybe it was just fatigue making it unsteady. Though he wasn’t much older than I was, he appeared to have aged ten years. His cheeks were hollow and smeared with dirt from working. The stubble along his jaw was flecked with grey. He looked over my shoulder at my confused companions. “Who are they? Did you find a village to take you in?”
I didn’t know where to begin. “It’s a long story.” I gestured for the others to come closer and introd
uced them to my old Harvester friend.
I caught a flicker of alarm in the back of my mind. Saven was somewhere beyond the wall, concerned when he felt my emotions rise. I took a moment to send reassuring energy in his direction.
“You are Fiero too?” Anza’s eyes narrowed with skepticism, likely because there was no energy emanating from Darvin.
He nodded. “Valieri and I worked together in the orchard and fields harvesting crops.”
“Did anyone else make it here?” I asked quietly.
Darvin nodded. “Only a few.” He looked around. “Jenassa isn’t with you?”
My heart sunk as quickly as it had risen with the hope that my sister might be among the refugees. “No. I take it she’s not here either?”
Darvin’s frown deepened and he shook his head. “Let’s continue this conversation someplace more private.” His eyes shifted, becoming dark with mistrust. He was one of the few people who understood the paranoia I often felt after the City’s attack.
We followed him quietly down a side street hardly big enough for two people to walk side by side. A sickly-looking old man coughed loudly from his sitting place on the muddy ground. Darvin paused and set his bundle of logs down. “Wait here,” he told us.
I watched as he removed a bandana from his back pocket and tied it around his face, covering his nose and mouth. He knelt beside the old man and shook his shoulder. The man’s eyelids fluttered and he turned his face upward. I couldn’t hear what was said, but judging by the man’s condition, it couldn’t have been a deep conversation.
“Things are worse here than I suspected,” Cypress said quietly, his brows knitted with concern. “These people need help.”
“We can write a message to the Secara and send it with Saven’s siblings,” I told him.
“I doubt it will get there in time,” Anza said pessimistically.
I glared at Anza, but Cypress ignored her. “I’ll send a message with the trees. It will get there faster. I’m sure they will send help and supplies to our allies.”
Darvin returned to the group, pulling the bandana off his face. “Let’s keep moving. I’ll send someone out to gather him.”
