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Chapter 23

Thea awoke pressed tightly against a warm broad chest. Math’s arm was draped over her shoulder as he breathed softly behind her ear. She laid there, eyes open, enjoying the closeness. The memory of the first time she saw him came to mind unbidden: soaked by rain, covered in grime as he helped them work her father’s wagon out of the deep, sucking mud. She had been grateful, yes, but it wasn’t gratitude that had made her tremble.

Then she met Rai. Was it simply random chance that Rai had walked her home instead of Math? What if Math had been the one to escort her home, to really have the chance to talk with her alone? She squeezed her eyes shut. Was she simply drawn to him out of grief at losing Rai?

Math’s breathing changed behind her, and she knew he was awake. He didn’t move. Maybe he thought she was asleep and didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t move. He laid there beside her, arm around her, for minutes. Then, slowly and quietly, he rolled to his back, pulling his arm away.

The chill in the air crept in quickly, intensified by the feeling that something was now missing. For minutes more they laid there, not speaking, not acknowledging the other was awake. Finally, Thea couldn’t take any more. She turned her body face down, then turned her head to look at Math. She found him looking back, eyes wide, expression inscrutable. She thought she sensed his breath catch, but it was just her hopeful imagination. How could she be thinking like this? She had no right to have that hope.

Whatever moment they were sharing was harshly interrupted.

“Time to get up,” Khel walked over. “Brand and Nyla will pack up and pass out a dry breakfast. You two need to get some shooting in.” He was holding two bows in one hand and a handful of practice arrows in the other. He handed a bow to each of them.

“More practice?” Thea asked.

“You are going to get all the practice you can, so it doesn’t fail you when you really need it. We’re going to be practicing on the road, so get used to it.”

“Sparring too?”

“We’ll practice with the sword and do some sparring in the evenings. That’ll give you the night to rest a bit if you get bruised up.” Thea rolled her eyes as Khel grinned. She reluctantly pulled the blanket back and stood up in the chilly air. Beside her, Math did the same. She was far too conscious of how close he was standing to her. Sparring tonight was going to be awkward. She hoped he didn’t notice her discomfort.

They set off through the woods for a good half mile before they found a suitably large old oak. Khel pointed out a knot to use as a target. They spent almost an hour taking turns sending arrows into the tree. They were competent enough by this point that they rarely had to search behind the tree for an errant shaft. Even so, she had trouble keeping her mind from wandering. There was more than one arrow that barely caught the edge of the tree. Through her frustration she noticed a few of Math’s arrows straying wide of the mark too. Grief over his brother must be interfering with his concentration as well.

Khel looked vaguely disgusted as he kept nagging at them to focus on their practice. That was half the reason to practice, he said. Calmness is accuracy. The quieter your thoughts when you release the arrow, the truer it will fly. That was why practice was always necessary. When an enemy charges, the mind should not even think. The body should remember all on its own how to draw, aim and release. If the mind took time to think about the impending danger, the bow would be unsteady and the arrow fly wide.

Finally, Khel released them from their miserable practice session.

“Grab your arrows, time to head out.”

Thea and Math walked to the tree and carefully pulled their arrows out of the softer bark. The tips didn’t seem too damaged yet, but eventually they would break down. That was the reason for carrying separate practice arrows. Save the hunting arrows for game. Or enemies.

Thea looked at Math as she pulled her last arrow out. He was concentrating on working one particularly stubborn arrow tip free and didn’t return her gaze. She shook her head clear and turned away, shafts in hand. Khel had already headed back to camp. She didn’t wait for Math, preferring to walk along and try to think through her confusion.

Her ears perked up at a faint cry off to the side. For a moment she thought she imagined a girl’s voice, calling out in distress. She stopped walking for a moment, concentrating. Over the soft twittering of birds and the buzzing of bees on a patch of nearby wildflowers, she heard a jay’s shrill cry in the distance. Reprimanding herself for letting her guilt and recent stress get to her, she started walking again, though more quickly.

The cry came again, louder this time and clearly not a bird. A girl was screaming for help somewhere nearby, through the trees. Thea looked ahead and behind but saw neither Math nor Khel. She dropped her arrows into her quiver, nocked one to the string and crept through the trees towards the distressed call.

She moved as silently as she could, but knew she was far from a trained woodsman. Even so, she saw no signs of danger as she approached the source of the shouting. A patch of light shone through the trees ahead, and as she stepped over a log and around a bushy hemlock, she saw a small clearing ahead. A tree had fallen, clearing out its neighbors and opening the forest floor up to the sunlight. A woman was sitting on the ground, back against the trunk. She wore a white dress, as if about to get married, but dirt-stained and torn. Mud and twigs were woven through matted hair that hung down in front of her face. Her hands were twisted around out of sight behind her back. Her body shook with sobs.

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She looked up as Thea rustled the leaves on the forest floor, looking warily around, bow drawn. Her face was streaked with dirt. “Please help me,” she whined. Thea paused, listening, but heard nothing else around. “They’re gone, but they’ll be back soon. Hurry!” the girl pleaded. Thea lowered her bow and stepped.

That was apparently all the watchers needed. As soon as she stepped towards the captive girl a footstep disturbed the dry leaves behind her to the left and a man’s voice spoke. “That’s far enough, sweetie. Turn around.” She spun, drawing the bow again. A dirty, ragged man stepped out of the trees, nicked sword in hand. His leather outfit was worn and stained, his hair as tangled and matted as the girl’s.

“Stop right there,” Thea ordered. “I’m not alone!”

“You are right now,” said a second man, stepping out from a thicket of undergrowth to her other side. “And if you yell, we’ll gut you before you get half a word out.” The second man was as unkempt and filthy as the first. He held an axe with a worn handle and a rusty, pitted head. Both men were gaunt and skinny.

“I have no money, but we have food at camp,” Thea ventured. “We’ll be happy to have guests. This doesn’t have to go badly for anyone.”

The first man looked her up and down, clearly noticing that she was both young and fit.

“Doesn’t have to,” he said. “But I suspect it will.” He smiled.

Thea drew her bow as they took another step.

“Don’t move!” she ordered. Both men laughed and swung small wooden bucklers from behind their shoulders, holding them up in front of them.

“You’ve got one arrow, sweetie. Even if it gets stuck in a leg instead of a shield, the other two of us will take you down.”

Other two. There was a third coming. She was already in trouble, but it was getting worse by the second. She risked a glance behind her shoulder and saw the girl start to stand. “Can you run?” Thea asked over her shoulder.

“Run?” She asked. “I can, but why would I want to?”

The captive swung her hands around in front of her. They hadn’t been bound behind her. She’d been holding a loaded crossbow behind her back. Crossbows were rare in Berendale, but Thea had seen their frightening power. She had watched a merchant one time put a thick bolt clean through an oak plank from thirty paces away. They were far more accurate as well, and required almost no practice, just a decent eye.

The erstwhile captive raised the crossbow. Thea acted without thinking, spinning to her left and drawing the bow. It wasn’t the way Khel had taught her to draw, but his lessons had disappeared from her mind. As soon as the arrow was lined up with the new attacker’s chest, she fired. As she loosed the arrow she heard the men behind her lunging towards her. As soon as the arrow left the string, she grabbed the bow at one end and continued her spin, swinging the bow staff around behind her.

The men behind her were close and closing fast, but the first one in the line of the bow staff’s path raised his shield, blocking the makeshift club. The bow shook, the vibrations tearing the wood out of her hands. The other man continued his lunge, smashing into her with his own buckler. Black and white flashed in front of her eyes and she stumbled back. She caught a heel on the uneven ground and went down. She fought to clear her vision as the men loomed over her. She froze as the swordsman lowered his sword point towards her.

“You alright?” one called over her.

“No,” the woman answered. “I’m bleeding out.”

Thea craned her neck and glanced over and behind her. The woman was slumped against the log, crossbow at her side, squeezing her leg. The feathered end of her arrow jutted up from the inside of the woman’s thigh. Red blood flowed between her fingers.

“Shit. Now look what you done. I’m going to enjoy making you pay for that,” the man with the axe growled. Then he yelled to the injured woman, “bind it tight, cut off the bleeding.”

“I can’t stop it! I can’t let go. Help me!” her cries were getting desperate.

“Just end it Ced. We gotta go,” said the man with the sword.

Ced spat. “Dammit. Fine piece, too. Damn waste,” he muttered. “Should leave you to bleed out, getting your stupid ass shot by some waif!” he yelled to the woman. He turned back to Thea. “Let’s go then. I’ll make it quick, you should be thankful for that.” He lifted his axe in both hands. Thea kicked backwards and put her hands up desperately, knowing they’d never stop the descent of that heavy metal wedge.

The weapon reached the top of its arc, then paused as blood exploded outwards and a smaller metal wedge thrust itself out from his throat. His eyes widened as he stumbled forward, then dropped to his knees. Air wheezed out past the arrowshaft as he clutched at it. The other swordsman spun as the axe-wielder pitched forward onto his face. An arrowhead punched into him next, catching him on the right side of the chest and forcing him backwards. He dropped his sword and raised his shield in front of him, but not quickly enough. A second arrow slammed into his cheek, dropping him to the ground beside Thea.

She looked up and saw Math and Khel running towards her. Khel had another arrow already on the bowstring and stepped past Thea, arrow trained on the woman behind her. Math stopped beside her and bent over, concerned.

“Are you alright?”

Thea nodded. “I think so.”

“You’re cut.” He wiped her forehead and cheek. His hand came away bloody.

“Bad?”

“Not too bad. I don’t think we’ll be calling you ‘scar’ anytime soon.” Math joked.

She smacked him on the shoulder. “Funny.” She accepted Math’s hand to help her up and got to her feet. Her head ached a bit, and she was shaking from the encounter.

She turned towards Khel. He was kneeling by the woman, hand pressed to the side of her neck. She gave him a questioning look, and he shook his head.

“Hit an artery in her leg. She’s lost too much blood.”

The full weight of the ordeal crashed into her. In the past couple weeks, her life seemed to have suddenly been filled with people and things trying to take her life. The strain was enormous. But today was the first time she herself had taken a life.

She turned to Math, buried her face in his chest, and cried.