CHAPTER 8: MIRA MARCH 2, 874

The walk was bitter, but the promise of a better future lay at the end of it. Father died last week after a month of a lung sickness. Rylan and Mira had no choice but to move on. Luckily, Rylan was seventeen—old enough to get a job of his own. Since the snow all over northern Linia was beginning to melt, all the passes were clear and the traders were starting on their routes again. The business of trading indentured Jinura and other valuables always required a bit of muscle, and Rylan was young and willing, which meant he was perfect for the job.

“Are we going to make camp soon? My feet are sore.” Having grown up in a small village, Mira had never had to walk very far all at once. Not like this.

“You need to toughen up, then. We’re crossing into Kern tonight, but we still have a long way to go,” Rylan said, keeping his eyes on the road ahead. Ever since he got the job as a guard, he tried to be so serious.

“I don’t need to toughen up,” Mira told him as she charged into his side, nearly knocking him over.

“Mira!” Rylan stumbled and barely caught his balance. He wrenched her away, but he was smiling.

“You need to toughen up.” She leaped onto his back, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He stumbled again, but she didn’t weigh enough to do much damage. Once he regained his footing, he just continued onward, Mira clinging to his back. She bounced, trying to make him fall, but he just kept walking. A few of the other guards chuckled. They had made an exception when they let Rylan bring his fourteen-year-old sister along, but most of them liked Mira enough that having her in the caravan wasn’t much of a sacrifice.

Giving up on interrupting Rylan’s relentless march, Mira jumped down and walked on her own again.

“Don’t mind him,” Milos told her from his position in the march. “He just wants to make a good impression. He’ll be back to normal in no time at all.” Of all the men employed by the traders, Milos was the easiest to talk to. He had a son and a daughter close to Mira’s age, which helped.

“I know. If he was like this forever, he’d bore himself to death,” Mira replied. She had hoped Rylan heard her, but he didn’t acknowledge that he had. With a sigh, Mira turned back to Milos. “Are you excited to be going home?”

“Very excited. I haven’t seen my family in almost six weeks. I’m sure Audric is taller than his mother by now.” The wagon slowed to a stop and the men flanking it slowed down as well.

“What’s going on?”

“We’re a little behind schedule, and we aren’t going to make it to the bridge before nightfall,” Barden, the trader in charge of the caravan, announced. “We’ll make camp here and cross into Kern tomorrow morning.”

Even though the march was halted, there was still plenty of walking to be done. Each member of the caravan started unloading supplies. Many of the men tended to get annoyed at Mira if she helped with the bigger supplies—claiming she just got in the way—so she followed Rylan around and helped with his responsibilities. Soon enough, the camp was set up and dinner was roasting over a large fire.

After collecting a dinner-sized portion onto her plate, she circled the perimeter of guards, each of them distracted with their meal and rowdy conversation. Rylan was wedged between the two brothers from Goura and Milos was already seated on the ground closer to the fire than Mira cared to sit. Every other space in the circle was taken. There wasn’t even room for her to poke her head into the conversation. Pressing her lips together, she turned away from the circle. If they didn’t want the pleasure of her company, it was their loss. She was about to make a new fire for herself when she spotted a smaller firepit toward the rear of the caravan, with only one boy using its heat. With a spring in her step, Mira crossed the space between the fires and seated herself on a log by the warm flames.

“Hello,” she said. She recognized the boy from the last few days. He’d been passing through Vilta, Mira’s hometown, on his way home to Sendium. When he heard of the caravan headed that way, he paid to join the group in their travels. He mostly kept to himself.

“Hello,” the boy replied reluctantly. When he said nothing more, Mira went on.

“I’m Mira. Your name was Torrin right? From Corignis Province in Sendium?”

“Yes, but I’m visiting family in the Tatu Province.” That explained why he was following them so far west. Torrin held out his right hand, palm up. It was a little formal, but Mira appreciated the gesture. Everyone else in the caravan saw her as a child. Mira held up her right hand, letting her own bare wrist hover beside his for a moment before shaking his hand.

“You’re obviously Sendian,” Mira looked over the olive complexion and pale green eyes that gave him away, “so what brought you to Linia?”

“My father lives up north. I apprenticed for a Tanner in Sendium, and I left for a while to go visit him.” He used his bread to sweep up the last bits of food from his plate. “You are obviously Linian, so what brings you to Kern?” He gestured to her almond shaped eyes and long blonde hair.

“My father died last week and my brother got work with the traders.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about your father,” Torrin said quietly, setting his now empty plate down on his lap.

“It’s alright,” she answered, burying a hitch in her throat. “I still have Rylan.” Mira looked over at the men across the camp. Rylan blended in with the raucous group so well, it was difficult to spot him at first.

“Hello, friends.” Mira looked to the side to find Sherman hovering there. “It’s a mighty fine evening we’re having here, isn’t it? A little chilly, but the fires are nice and warm. Perfect for lounging after such a long day on the road. Do you mind if I take this boulder here?” He pointed to the boulder right next to Mira.

Other than Mira, Sherman was the youngest one here. He was someone’s son, not yet old enough to work and they had no family that could take him. Mira suspected no family members wanted him around. Talking wasn’t a problem. Mira liked talking. But Sherman could go on for hours and never actually say anything worth opening your mouth for.

“I’m sure it’s fine, but I think Milos was looking for you earlier. He said he had a question for something you were talking about before.” Mira normally didn’t lie, because normally it wasn’t necessary. Sherman, however, was an exception.

“It’s probably about that breed of sheep I was telling him about. Their wool grows twice as fast as other sheep’s.”

“That sounds right,” Mira agreed. “I bet Milos has been waiting for you.” Eagerly, Sherman left for the larger fire to squeeze in somewhere he didn’t fit and try to talk over the boisterous men.

“Sometimes you just have to pray for patience,” Torrin said, watching the scrawny boy go as he picked up his canteen and put it to his lips.

“Or a good gag,” Mira added. Torrin choked on the water he had been drinking, surprised by the comment. “Sorry, I’ve been told I have a hostile sense of humor.” ‘Borderline inappropriate’ her father had called it, but he had always laughed.

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“No, it was funny,” Torrin promised, a smile forming. “And very true.”

The rest of the night, Torrin’s rigidity slowly slipped away. He listened very closely as she told him about growing up in Vilta and about Rylan. In exchange, he told her all about tanning.

“Using mushed up brain? I suppose that’s one way to be economical.” It was disgustingly fascinating. At least perfectly good brains weren’t going to waste. Anyway, it could have been worse. Mira had heard of the lands to the east of Linia, beyond the mountains, eating animal brains. And not because they were starving, but because it was a delicacy.

“Each animal has . . .” Torrin trailed off, and his head was turned toward the wagons. Mira followed his gaze. The guards were pulling out the indentured Jinura, taking them to relieve themselves before everyone went to sleep.

“What is it?”

Torrin watched the trail of Jinura distastefully. “I just don’t understand why they need to be shackled. It’s inhumane.”

“They’re Jinura indentures,” Mira said. “Besides, they aren’t shackled all the time. Just on the trip. Once their contracts are sold they’ll be in a new home and they won’t need the chains.” Her father always said everyone was born with a role to play. It was just the way things worked. Torrin was worrying about nothing.

“Right,” he answered quietly. “I’m going to go to sleep.” Mira stood as Torrin started walking away from the fire pit.

“You should probably stay close to the fire. It’ll get cold tonight,” Mira reminded him. The days were warm enough, but once the sun was gone, the air became wet and cool.

“I’ll be fine,” he called back over his shoulder. With a frown, Mira headed back toward the main cluster of men where Rylan was already setting up his blanket. Torrin had seemed like he was having a good time, but he had to wreck it all by acting so strange.

“Why the frown?” Rylan asked as Mira started unrolling her blanket beside him.

“Torrin was acting strange, that’s all.” She burrowed into the blanket.

Rylan propped his head up onto his palm. “That new boy? Isn’t he a little old for you?”

Mira threw a fist out at his chest, catching him off guard. “He’s just a friend, you bonehead.” Besides, he is only sixteen.

“Good.” Rylan settled his head in the nook of his elbow.

Mira woke up early the next morning. It was no surprise that Rylan was already up ahead of the rest of the caravan. He always woke up early and he always woke up hungry, so the first place Mira looked was over by the food.

“You’re an unregistered Jinura!” Rylan shouted from the other side of the wagon. Confused, Mira followed the sound of his voice. When Rylan screamed in pain, Mira sped up, rounding the corner of the wagon in time to see Torrin with a dagger in his hand. Rylan’s dagger. Rylan pulled out a sword he’d been borrowing from one of the other guards until he could afford his own. Not waiting for Torrin to move first, Rylan swung out the sword. Still disoriented from just waking up, Mira could only watch as the scene unfolded. It seemed surreal as her brother and Torrin struggled against each other. Rylan was ruthless in his attack, but he stepped in too close. At the end of the melee, Torrin and Rylan were both on the ground. Rylan had nicked Torrin’s arm with the sword, but blood coated the dagger in Torrin’s hand.

Rylan was hurt. Panic sped up Mira’s thoughts, leaving them all in a jumble. She needed to get help. To get a Bone Jinura to heal Rylan. She needed to sound the alarm. Still shivering with fear, Torrin met her eyes just as Mira let loose a shrill scream. The entire camp was awake in seconds. Mira ran to Rylan, trying to ignore the chaos that seemed to erupt all over the camp. One of the wagons was on fire and Jinura indentures were being freed, some fighting with the traders, but most fleeing into the woods.

“Rylan.” As she surveyed the wound in his side, he tried to stand. “Rylan! You need to sit down.”

“I need to help. That kid is an unregistered Jinura. He’s attacking the camp.”

“You’ve been stabbed. The knife looks like it went in between your ribs. It could have punctured a lung.” At that, Rylan sat down. “The others will take care of Torrin.” As she spoke, the camp seemed to quiet. The few minutes of chaos were over. Several of the Jinura indentures had been rounded up and Torrin was detained. Black smoke still rose from the burning wagon, but the men were putting the fire out as best they could.

“Milos!” Mira called to her friend. He heard his name and turned to her. “Milos! We need a Bone Jinura over here!” He was about to come over, but every man in the camp stilled and looked down the road. At least thirty men were sprinting towards them, each one of them with a black band marking their wrists. Jinura.

Before, with Torrin, might have been chaos. But this was a battle. The Jinura brandished swords and began attacking the camp. Luckily, most of them left her and Rylan alone. Mira held Rylan’s head with one hand and his sword with the other, jumping every time a Jinura came close to them. Eventually, it became clear that the attacking Jinura were not her main concern.

Someone had set the wagon nearest to them on fire, starting with the wheels. It creaked and groaned as the fire ate away at the wood. The Jinura housed inside had been freed and now ran amuck, but its own weight was enough to make it sway. Careful not to injure Rylan any further, she dragged him away from the fragile wagon. Once he was safely away from its shadow, she clutched the sword in her right hand and began searching for one of the Bone Jinura indentures. Rylan might not be able to wait until the battle was over to be healed. Mira had to do something now. As she scoured the turbulent mass of men, one of the Jinura came at her with a sword. She tried to defend herself, but in seconds the Jinura had knocked her weapon away and shoved her aside.

Mira tumbled to the ground. She must have hit a rock on impact, because her head was spinning and she took a moment to just lay there. When Rylan shouted her name, she could hear the fear in his voice. It wasn’t until the wagon buckled and tipped that she realized why. The scream that tore out of Mira’s body was almost muted to her own ears by the pain shooting up her right arm. When the reality of what was happening set it, the screaming subsided and Mira tried to focus. She was still trying to figure out if her arm was even still there when Rylan crawled up beside her.

Using his legs, Rylan pressed up against the wagon until it was high enough from the ground that Mira could pull what was left of her hand free.

“You’re going to be alright,” Rylan told her, again and again. As he spoke, the pain slipped away. It wasn’t gone; it was just far away. Her mind was foggy and unfocused as she looked at her hand. The pinky was completely gone. The ring finger was mostly attached. Or was that the middle finger? The rest was a bloody mess. Bone and meat had been crushed beyond recognition. Bright red blood gushed between sporadic patches of intact flesh.

“You need to tie a tourniquet. To stop the bleeding.” Rylan’s words came out between grunts and groans. With too much effort, he undid the belt around his waist and started looping it around her arm, just below the elbow. Pain flared up in her arm, but she didn’t voice it.

For the first time that day, tears began welling in her eyes. She wrapped her left arm around Rylan and held him tightly.

“You’re going to be alright,” he said again, his breaths shallow against her ear.

“We’re going to be alright,” she whispered to him, but he didn’t return the embrace. When she pulled away, his eyes were glassy. She said his name again, but knew he was already gone.

Finally, she looked up at the camp. Bodies were strewn everywhere. Those that weren’t killed had fled. All the Jinura indentures were gone. The wagons were still burning, but the fires were barely singeing the edges now. Mira looked down the road toward Kern and saw the last few Jinura attackers running away. Even from the distance she could make out Torrin’s figure looking back at the destruction. She couldn’t tell if his expression held fear, anger, or nothing at all. Once he disappeared down the road with his Jinura friends, Mira was alone.

There were no Bone Jinura nearby, and Mira wouldn’t survive long without one. She could go back to Linia or continue forward to Kern. From what she’d heard, Kern was riddled with healers so she gathered a handful of supplies, used her teeth and her good hand to tie her arm in a splint, and started walking.

After a few hours, the shock wore off and Mira was forced to walk through the pain. The world was a haze of road, trees, and sky, but the path was clear so she was able to stumble onward. Several hours after that, parts of her fingers on her right hand started to lose sensation. She knew that was a bad sign, but there was nothing more to do. As she walked, she tried to eat something and drink water, but anything she ingested just came back up within the hour, so she eventually dropped the food on the road, unwilling to carry the useless load any longer.

As night fell, she was tempted to sit down to rest her feet, maybe sleep for a spell. But anytime her pace slowed, she was all too aware of the pain pulsing from her right arm. Sleep never would have been possible. And if it were, she would probably never wake up again.

Mira walked for a day and a half straight before she fell to her knees. She hadn’t seen a single soul on the road so far. Tears burned in her eyes and she let out a savage scream, sending a flock of birds flying out of a nearby bush. She was tired and her arm was in more pain than she ever could have imagined before yesterday. Her mother died when she was a child. Her father died only eight days ago. And yesterday, Rylan was murdered. By that Jinura, Torrin. Her chest was heaving with ragged breaths, but Mira forced her legs to push her back up. One day, the gods would take her beyond this life, but not today. Today, she was going to live. She was going to find a Bone Jinura to heal her.

And if it was the last thing she did, she was going to hunt Torrin down and kill him.