Davos and Kyna run ahead, the bright afternoon sun peaking through the branches above. My legs burn and my lungs beg me to stop, but I force myself forward. They’re not far now, I can see them lounging by a thick oak down the trail. They probably think I’ve collapsed somewhere. But I’m not the same boy anymore. I’ve been running each night the caravan stops, not quitting until my heart feels like it’s going to burst. After a week I can run much faster and farther than I could before. And by the time the pair realize I’m right behind them, it’s too late.

Kyna yelps as my hand clamps down on her shoulder, giving Davos enough of a warning to jump away.

“Got…you.” I say, sweat streaming down my face.

“Not fair!” Kyna protests, her red cheeks puffed out. “You cheated!”

“I don’t know about that, Ky.” Davos takes a step back. “Guess all that running you’ve been doing has started to pay off. But you’ll still never be able to catch me.”

I lurch forward but Davos jumps to the side, grinning. As hard as it is to admit, I’m spent. And even if I wasn’t, Davos is still too fast for me.

“I give up.” I say, pressing my back against the rough bark of a nearby pine tree.

“Now that’s the Luther I know.” But as Davos takes a step forward, I go for a lunge. His reflexes are sharp, but by the time he reacts I’ve got a fist full of his tunic in my hand. “Got you too.”

He pushes my hand away, his brows knotted. “You said you gave up. Games over then.”

“I lied,” I say, shrugging my shoulders, chest feeling like it’s going to explode.

“Lying is bad,” Kyna says, settling down on the grass beside me.

“That it is,” I reply, sliding down the tree. “But sometimes you need a bit of trickery to win.”

Davos stares down at me. He’s only one summer older but he’s a head taller with broad shoulders and thick arms. His short hair is red like mine and Kyna’s, and we’ve more than once passed for brothers. I’ve never told him, but sometimes this resemblance bothers me. It’s like I’m looking at what I could have been, had I not been born weak and feeble.

“Trickery is for cowards,” he says, resting himself against a tree a few paces away.

Not long ago what he said would have hurt me. But not anymore.

“Deceit is a tool,” I say. “Same as any weapon.”

“You’re starting to sound like that old fool.” Davos crosses his arms. “I’ve seen him teaching you letters. Before long you’ll start using all those fancy words he likes so much.”

“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” I smirk. “But I still got you, and don’t you forget it.”

Davos rushes me, grabbing me by the shoulders. He pulls me away from the tree and we roll, arms and legs all tangled together. Kyna yells at us to stop fighting, but we twist and jostle for position. Eventually I’m on my back, bright sun beaming down at me. Davos has my wrists pinned to the ground and a knee on my chest. As our eyes make contact, we both burst into laughter.

“You’re lucky I’m not any meaner,” he says, helping me up. “And fine, you got me.” He gives me a smack between the shoulders. “This time.”

“Give me a few more weeks and I’ll do it without any tricks.” But looking at him, what would happen if he attacked me? Catching someone is one thing, but being able to fight them is another. “Davos, how did you end up so strong?”

When Mr. Oliver started training me in the mystic arts, I figured there would be a lot of reading and studying, the kind I used to see Liam do before he joined the guard. But he told me magic takes a lot of energy, and that I needed to work on my body first. He’s the one who made me start running each night. But I don’t want to just have more energy, I want to be strong. Like Father, like Liam. Strong enough to never let anyone hurt the people I love again.

Davos puts a hand on his chin and tilts his head like those philosophers Mr. Oliver told me about. “I don’t rightly know. But thanks for noticing.” He flexes, a dopey grin on his face.

“I’m serious Davos, there has to be something.”

He sighs. “Father had me helping around the farm since I could crawl.”

“But all the other boys do that, and you’re twice as strong.” But maybe Davos was born to be my opposite. Tall where I’m short, strong where I’m weak. My aunt used to tell me some people are just “Born better.” I’d doubted her then, but maybe she was right.

I’m about to give up and suggest another round of chase when Davos snaps his fingers.

“Rocks,” he says.

“Rocks?”

“Yeah, rocks. Father always has me haul them around. Fields are full of the bastards,”

“That’s a bad word,” Kyna chimes in, a daisy twirling between her fingers.

“Sorry Ky,” Davos looks around the forest floor. “Like this,” he says snatching up a flat hunk of stone. “Whenever the men cleared new land for a farm, he always had me go around collecting and hauling any stones they found. And you know Abrath’s farm up north? That real big one? That’s where I started.” He shudders like he’s remembering a horrible memory. “He had me moving rocks until I was blue in the face. It was real hard at first, but after a few moons I started noticing the job was getting easier. Not sure if that’s what makes me strong, but I’m sure it had to help.”

I step up beside him. Moving rocks, huh? “Can I see that?” I ask, pointing at the rock in Davos’ hands.

“Sure, but don’t hurt yourself.”

It’s far heavier than it looks, and my wrists feel like they’re going to pop free. But I keep it upright, arms trembling.

“I had to haul them into a wagon,” Davos says, reaching his arms over his head. “That was the really hard part.”

I try and lift my arms up like him, but the stone is too heavy. My fingers give out and it thuds into the dirt. Breathing heavy, I place my hands on my knees. “Maybe I should start with a smaller one.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“How about that one, looks small enough for you,” Davos says, pointing at a pebble by my boot.

I’m about to pick the pebble up and throw it at him when I feel a tugging on my breeches.

“You can pick up rocks later,” Kyna says, that daisy still in her hand. “I want to play chase.”

Davos and I exchange glances, both relenting under the little tyrant. “Fine, but you’re the one doing the chasing.” As tired as I am, she’ll get me before long and I can take a nice long rest. Davos will keep her busy for a while, but he always lets her catch him in the end.

“Okay!” She smiles, her face bright. “I’ll give you two seconds.”

“Wait, we’re starting now?” Davos is already gone, bolting down the path like a devil is on his heels.

“One.”

“Can’t we wait a few more minutes?"

“Two.”

And I’m off, Kyna’s little footfalls behind me, the air full of laughter.

*

The tents and wagons of the caravan stretch out beside a ford in the Hylek river. Some people bathe in the bright water while others cast nets a little further upriver. Looking down at them, my heart is sore in my chest. My whole world, and it’s been reduced to the gathering before me. Our village wasn’t large, but so many families lived there. And now none of them are whole. We’ve all lost mothers and fathers, sons and daughters. People who I never saw apart a day in their lives now shuffle along alone, their other half buried in a shallow grave where our village once stood. And we’ve lost more on the way to Isren, those taken by their wounds or sickness. But they still manage to smile. Even now bitter neighbors stand by their cookfires, talking in hushed but happy voices. And the village boys who used to tease me wave as I approach, their grins genuine. We’ve all grown closer since the attack, our bonds hard forged from loss and rage. These are my people, and I will do whatever it takes to protect them.

Kyna runs ahead when she sees Mr. Oliver. The old grey robbed wizard is crouched on one knee by a fire, giving some enthusiastic cooking instructions to a pair of women who very clearly want him to go away.

“And then if you add just a tiny pinch of salt—gah!” Mr. Oliver jumps when Kyna pokes him in the ribs. The two women opposite the fire cover their mouths and turn away, but they can’t hide their laughter. “My dear girl please refrain from such sneak attacks in the future. You might scare me to death. Why, I saw a flash of the farworld just now.”

Kyna hands him the daisy she’d been playing with earlier. He takes it slowly, like he expects the plant to jump out of her hand and bite him.

“A gift? How precious your young heart is. It’s enough to make an old man all weepy.” He takes the daisy and is about to tuck into his robe when Kyna stops him.

“In your hair, like mine,” she says, pointing to the daisy by her ear.

Mr. Oliver nods and with some flair, slides the daisy stem into his tangled beard. “Like this?”

Kyna giggles. “You’re silly Mr. Olive.”

“How so? I’m quite a serious gentleman. And it is Oliver. I have no relation to that small green fruit, no matter what anyone says about how I smell.”

“Do you mind watching her for a while?” I cut in, Davos still standing beside me.

“I fear she will be the one to watch me, but fine.” Mr. Oliver waves an arm at the two women across from him. “I was just giving some cooking advice to these fine women. Dear Kyna can aid in my instruction, I’ve heard she is an excellent cook.” Kyna beams him a smile.

The two women give me a reassuring nod and I pat Kyna on the head. “I’ll be back in a bit, you stay here with Mr. Oliver, okay?”

“Okay,” she tugs on Mr. Oliver’s sleeve. “Tell me that story about the dragon again.”

I back away and motion for Davos to follow. Once we can no longer hear Kyna or Mr. Oliver, we stop. “He’s not here, is he?”

Davos looks around one last time. “He might be up with Yarnel,” he says, pointing at a clutch of horses, wagons, and leather tents atop the next hill. The men who own the big farms are up there. Most of them escaped the massacre but still decided to leave in case the Hafthan returned. That, and as Mr. Oliver pointed out, most of their workers were dead. With no one left to tend the fields, they gathered what supply they could and left with the rest of us.

“Do you want me to go with you?” I ask, Davos’ eyes becoming downcast.

“No. If he’s like he was last night I…I don’t want you to see him like that again.”

We found Davos’ father the previous night outside of camp, unconscious and in a pool of his own vomit. There was a bottle not far away, drained to the last drop. He took the death of Davos’ sister Evalyn hard, and like a lot of men from the village he’s taken to drinking away the nights. But he’s not just been drinking at night. He’s always got something close at hand, and he’s been getting worse.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

“I’m sure.” He strides toward the hill. “Just let your mother know she might need to tend to him again.”

“I will,” I say, watching him disappear behind rows of patchwork tents.

Once he’s gone from sight, I make my way toward the edge of camp where a white tent sits by the river. The rushing water is louder here, but I can sill make out the sound of my mother’s voice. She’s been distant since the day I made my oath before the oathstone. When I told Mr. Oliver what happened atop that hill, he simply nodded his head and recorded what I said in his journal. But she hasn’t even asked me about it. But the way she looks at me, it’s like she doesn’t recognize me anymore.

“Does it really need to be this tight?” Mr. Finnly says, his foot propped up on my mother’s lap.

“If you want it to heal, then yes it has to be this tight. Luther!” She smiles as I approach, but there’s a hollowness to it that tugs my heart into my stomach.

“Hey little man,” Mr. Finnly says, dirt smeared across his cheek.

“You take another fall?” I ask, nodding at his foot.

He frowns. “Yep. Took a tumble down by the water. Something about how it moves makes my stomach churn.” He nudges my mother’s arm. “But El will fix me up, she always does.”

Mr. Finnly worked on Mr. Yulen’s farm with mine and Davos’ father. His constant accidents annoyed my father to no end, but Mr. Finnly is one of the few people whose never treated me like I’m fragile. I sit cross legged beside him, watching my mother cut free another strip of fabric.

“I hear will be in Isren by this time tomorrow,” I say, glancing up at the waning sunlight. “What will you do then, Mr. Finnly?”

“Take up work as a guard,” he says, making a tough face. “One look at me and drunks and bandits will start running.”

“I’m sure you’ll have them quaking in their boots. At least until you skewer yourself on your own sword.” Mother tightens the fabric around Mr. Finnly’s ankle.

“Oh, come now El, I’m a real mean one with a blade,” he turns to me. “What about you, what will you get up to once we reach the big city?”

“I haven’t really thought about it,” I say, Mr. Finnly tutting like he doesn’t believe me. But it’s true. With everything that’s happened, the thought of what comes when we reach Isren hasn’t crossed my mind. The only thing I know for certain is that no matter where I go, the Hafthan and their destruction will always be my ultimate goal.

“We will be staying with my brother,” Mother says wiping the sweat from her forehead. “He is…a severe man. But he will find us work and that includes you, Luther.” I groan and mother glares at me. “Make sure to be respectful to him. We’ll be showing up unannounced and he’s got a wife and children of his own to look after.”

“Will he have room for us?”

“Even if he doesn’t, I’ll take sleeping in the stables over being out here.” Mother looks over her shoulder. “Isren will be safe. We will be safe. Nothing else matters.”

I look past her at the setting sun. No mother, we won’t be safe. Not while the Hafthan are out there. A chill wind blows in, and I hunker.

“Well,” Mr. Finnly says. “I think the worst is behind us. Isren will be a fresh start, so chin up boy. It’s all going to get better from here.” He sucks in a breath and blows it out with a smile, his eyes bright. “I can feel it. Our luck is about to change. Just you wait and see.”