“I’m sorry,” Six says as soon as we step outside. “I should have spoken with you before that.”
Dusty blue echoes in his voice warn me that there’s more to his apology than his words suggest. “Before what?”
“Before asking the captain to send you with us. I should have asked you first.”
“I was going to be at the tunnel, anyway.” I wait, but he doesn’t speak again for several moments. Something’s troubling him, but he either doesn’t want to share it, or doesn’t know how.
I study the yellow bruise on his cheek. “Are you afraid?”
“Yes. For the others.” Dark eyes flick over me, dipping toward my scarf before settling on my face. “Orami especially. He hasn’t had much experience besides sparring.”
“If you’ve only been here a year, you can’t have much more experience,” I say.
Six’s breath puffs into the air between us and catches silver in the moonlight. “I’ve been in fights. Nothing like what we’re headed toward, but I know how to handle myself in battle. And if not…”
“If not?”
He shrugs. “My family is gone. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if I joined them.”
Something heavy and cold presses on my chest. The image of Six kneeling before Captain Oristel burns in my mind, his head raised defiantly, his jaw clenched. He was a stranger to me then, but when his eyes found mine in that moment before Oristel lifted his sword, his thoughts were as clear as if he’d shouted them to me.
I hold his gaze, flatten my lips, and shake my head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Are you calling me a liar?” he laughs.
“You were afraid,” I say, undeterred by his reaction. “When you were about to be executed, you looked at me and—” The memory is so vivid that it’s almost hard to see his face now. The ghost of that fear is still there in the corner of his mouth, the crease between his brows. The shadow over his eyes. “I know you didn’t want to die.”
“Nobody wants to die,” he says, his voice still stubbornly light.
“Then why are you pretending you do?”
The skin around his eyes tightens. A muscle in his cheek jumps as he clenches his jaw, and the sudden memory of his heartbeat pounding against my palms drums through me.
He’s scared now.
Of what?
My fingers twitch like they want to reach for his, but I clench them at my side and wait out the silence. He stares at me, mouth opening once, twice—and then he turns away. “Come on. We should get back to the others.”
Disappointment sinks through me as I follow him back to the rangers. It shouldn’t bother me that he won’t share his thoughts. He’s already told me more than I’ve told him, besides sharing his secret tree. We’ve only known each other for a few days. I can’t expect any more from him.
But I am disappointed, and I don’t know how to stop it.
When we reach the ranger’s camp, the fire throws shadows over the silhouettes of the four men seated around it. They’re talking quietly, but I can’t hear their words.
Orami looks over his shoulder as we approach, scooting over to make room beside him and Iorin. “We’ve all been wondering,” he tells me, his voice a curious swirl of azure. “Captain Bayal wants you to save your strength for Wordweaving. What can you do at full strength? Can you do what the captain asks of you?”
“As the captain hasn’t asked him for anything specific, that would be difficult to answer,” Six says. He takes a seat beside Orami, and after a moment’s hesitation I slip down next to him.
“But it will have to be something powerful,” the boy continues. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”
“Not unless he could make a profit,” Redge says. “That’s all Wordweavers care about.”
“Redge,” Iorin says sharply. “That’s enough.”
Redge blows an angry breath through his nose and stands. “Don’t act like you’re in any position to give me orders, brother. You don’t outrank me.”
“But I do,” Six says. His voice is calm, but a hard crimson line cuts through his words as he lifts his gaze to Redge. “Brennr is coming with us to scout the tunnel tomorrow, and you’d better leave your bias toward him here in the camp.”
With an exaggerated salute, Redge spins on his heel and stalks off into the darkness.
“Why’d he say it like that, Iorin?” Orami asks. He stares after Redge with wide eyes, a troubled look on his face. “When he called you brother?”
Iorin sighs. “We’re half-brothers, but he only brings that up when he’s being petulant.”
“I didn’t know that,” Orami says.
“My parents married when they were very young,” Iorin says. His body is facing Orami, but his gaze settles on me. “When my mother died, she wasn’t yet twenty years old, and I barely two. I hardly remember her.” Faint sky blue soaks through his honey-colored voice, and he turns a new block of wood he’d been carving in his hands as he continues. “My father’s second wife has been more of a mother to me. They had Redge when I was seven, and then Jayr when I was thirteen. By then, I was already studying at the university in Elni, so I barely knew my youngest brother.”
There’s that name again, the one Redge had been telling the story about last night. Another brother. “Last year, Jayr came down with a fever,” Iorin goes on. “The healers could do nothing to save him, so Redge went to find the only other option.”
“A Wordweaver,” Six guesses.
Iorin nods. “By the time Redge found a Wordweaver powerful enough to do the healing, Jayr was weak. The Wordweaver charged a price so high that my father could not pay it, and while he was pleading to lower the price...”
He trails off and looks at me. “I was in Elni at the time. When word finally reached me that Jayr was ill, it was already too late. Redge... took Jayr’s death hard. I stayed home as long as my studies would allow, but when I returned to the capital, Redge left to join the infantry. I followed as soon as I heard he’d gone, and we haven’t been home since.”
I search for Redge’s form in the shadows, resisting the pull of sympathy that makes me want to forgive him. What happened to his brother was tragic, but it isn’t my fault. It gives him no right to take out his anger and sadness on me. I’ve suffered my own injustices and have no time to worry about his.
But my eyes stay on the path he took, and my fingers unclench in my lap.
“I’m sorry,” Six tells Iorin. “Redge will come around the more time he spends with Brennr. But it doesn’t help to dwell on that when we have other things to prepare for.”
“Rule number seven,” Orami puts in.
“Seven is ‘Use your resources’,” Iorin argues. “You want rule number two: ‘Rest when you can’.”
“I was going for ‘Make a good plan’,” Orami says. “Wasn’t that number seven?”
“Seven is ‘Know your enemy’,” Thare says.
“Yesterday you said ‘Know your enemy’ was five!” Orami says. “You don’t know the numbers either, you’re just making them up.”
Iorin looks offended. “Behold the ungrateful child,” he says. “We try to pass on some wisdom and he complains.”
“Well, if you’d—”
“Enough,” Six sighs. “We have a busy few days coming up. Get some rest while you can.”
He stands up, ignoring Iorin’s whispered, “Rule number two,” and Thare’s “Rule number four.” The others stay seated, but I hesitate when Six starts for the tent. He looks over his shoulder at me, but I stay where I am.
“I think I should talk to Redge,” I say in a low voice.
Six glances into the darkness. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No, I… I think I should do this alone.”
He nods, and when he says nothing more, I turn and follow Redge into the shadows.
He hasn’t gone far. His back is to me, but the tensing of his shoulders says he’s heard me coming.
“You’ve insulted me,” I say, pitching my voice low so I won’t be overheard. “And assumed the worst of me, ever since you found out what I can do.”
Redge turns to face me. “You think just because you—”
“I didn’t let your brother die,” I say. My voice is hard and unflinching against the anger on Redge’s face. “And I’ve never done anything to hurt you or anyone else. You don’t have to like me, but you will have to find a way to work with me. At least until we’re finished with the fort.”
“You haven’t fooled me,” Redge says, leaning to put his face close to mine. I have to crane my neck up to look at him, but I do my best to meet his furious gaze without flinching. “I haven’t figured out what you want yet, but I know it’s more than what you’ve told the captain. Just know that whatever trap you’re leading us into, I’m ready for it. I’ve already lost one brother to a Wordweaver. I won’t lose any more.”
“I’m not leading—”
He turns and stalks away before I can finish, leaving me alone at the edge of the camp.
***
“How did it go?” Six asks.
I let the tent flap fall closed behind me and blink to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Six is sprawled on his bedroll, his hands folded behind his head as he watches me hesitate at the entrance. He’s laid out my bedding as well, so I mumble a thank you before stepping over his legs to lie down.
“You’re quiet,” he says.
“I’m always quiet.”
“Yes, but now it’s because you’re upset.”
I shrug out of my jacket, studying the twist that has developed in the shoulder strap of my satchel.
“You shouldn’t let Redge bother you,” he says. “He’s impulsive in his judgments, but he also forgives quickly. Once he gets to know you, he’ll come around.”
“What does he have to forgive? I haven’t done anything to him.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to his brother,” I say. “I can’t imagine what it would be like to lose Aze. But I had nothing to do with it. Why should I bear the punishment for another man’s actions?”
“You’ve never heard of prejudice?” Six asks.
“Naming it doesn’t excuse it.”
“I never claimed it did.” Six’s gaze follows me as I lay out my blankets. “It’s wrong, but it’s reality. There’s nothing you can—”
“If you say there’s nothing I can do about it, I’ll kick you,” I snap. “That’s all anyone has told me since the soldiers showed up in my village. There’s nothing I can do about the war, or about families being ripped apart, or about bearing the punishment for something I didn’t do—again. If that’s all anyone says about the world’s problems, it’s no wonder they haven’t been solved.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“Are you claiming you can solve the world’s problems?”
“Don’t mock me.”
Six shifts to face me, his outline illumined by the firelight filtering in through the tent’s fabric. “I’m sorry. But those problems can’t be solved with a single action. It would take years to unravel every strand of hurt and hatred.”
“Then someone ought to get started,” I say, lying down and rolling to put my back to him.
For a long time he’s quiet, and I assume he’s gone to sleep. But then he murmurs, “You’re right. First thing in the morning, we’ll get started righting the world’s wrongs.”
Warmth blooms in my chest, and I reach up to set my finger on the ring at my throat as I fall asleep.
We rise before the sun, vacating the little tent and taking it down in silence. Iorin and Orami spent the night with us, but Thare is still outside when we creep out into the chill air. He sits where he’d been when I went to bed, staring into the glowing coals of the fire. Whether Redge came back last night or not I can’t say, but he isn’t here now.
“Iorin,” Six says, his gaze darting between the remaining rangers. “Make sure we have all the supplies we need for a march. I’ll need a new bow—the Awnians took mine. Orami, take care of the tent. Thare, find Redge and make sure he’s ready. We leave in twenty minutes.”
They obey without comment, and I have to admit I’m impressed. If they went by age, Iorin should have been in command—if by experience, I would guess Thare has seen more fights than the others, based on his scars. But they accept Six’s leadership with no hints of resentment or questions.
Except when it comes to me.
“Somre wanted to talk to you,” Six reminds me, breaking through my thoughts. “I’ll take you.”
The rest of the unit is still and quiet, enjoying their last few hours of slumber—excluding the infirmary. Three men are busy packing Somre’s things, and barely glance at us as we enter. Papers and herbs and bags are scattered everywhere, along with an assortment of bandages, cloths, twine, surgery blades, scissors, and all manner of containers imaginable. The table and cots that had originally furnished the tent have been removed, but Somre has gained a trunk and a cart overflowing with packed items. The physician stands in the center of the chaos, barking orders to his unfortunate helpers while he removes dried herbs from a cord tied between the supporting posts.
“Larkspur, make yourself useful,” he says, waving us over and dumping a bundle of yellow flowers into Six’s arms. “Take these to Gaii, he’ll show you what to do with them.”
Six hurries away, and Somre focuses on me. “Did you bring your satchel?”
I pat the bag on my hip. Somre plucks a bundle from his table and holds it to me, speaking as he turns back to his tasks. “Inside this you will find anelyn, rue, and vervain for wounds. They’re not as potent dried, of course, but they’ll last you longer. There’s also saffron to protect against infection. Make sure you pick any mint and marigold you find.” I nod, tucking the plants into my satchel. “And these,” he adds, producing three tiny bottles that rattle with seeds. “Comfrey, asais, and silver crown seeds. They are nearly useless dried, so I believed it best to give them to you in this state. You can grow them when you need them.”
All those years of asking—begging—Edlan to let me Wordweave, and he always refused. Somre has known me for two days and is not only allowing it, but demanding it. I accept the supplies and nestle the bottles between the bundles of herbs, carefully securing the cover of my satchel.
“You have bandages?” Somre continues, and I nod. “Good. Never be without them. Anything else?”
The first tremor of anxiety shivers up my spine. Somre is preparing for battle. He’s preparing me for battle, stuffing my bag and my head full so I can have some hope of helping the rangers. “I’ll remember what you taught me,” I say, clenching my fingers around the strap of my satchel.
“Good. One more thing.” He rummages in a pocket and pulls out a small piece of neatly folded linen. Curious, I take it and let the fabric fall open across my palm.
Resting within the cloth is a small pressed flower. Its white petals are arranged like a star around a cluster of yellow, with silvery-green leaves set behind it.
“Do you know what that is?” Somre asks. When I shake my head, he gives me a rare smile and continues, “It’s an edelweiss flower. It grows high in the mountains, at the very edges of cliffs where there is barely enough soil for it to survive.”
I stare at the fragile petals, imagining it clinging to the side of a cliff on some mountain—maybe even my mountain. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper. “But what is it for? I don’t know any medicinal uses for edelweiss.”
“It’s not for healing. Think of it as a gift—a sign of friendship.” Somre glances at Six and the assistants, all occupied on the other side of the tent. “I realize it may be unconventional to offer you a flower on the eve of battle...”
I tear my eyes from the flower to meet his, my stomach plummeting.
He used the feminine you.
Ieldran help me.
“I don’t know what—” I breathe, over-pronouncing the masculine I as if that will solve the problem.
“Because of my condition,” he says, his voice a low, conspiratorial blue. “I have learned to pay attention to the things most people ignore. The way a person walks, the shifts in tone of voice. You reminded me of someone I knew once. It turns out the similarities go further than I thought.”
Belendres. The woman who disguised herself to be a soldier—the woman Somre treated, whose death made him leave his position at the king’s side. I shake my head, but it’s pointless to argue.
Perhaps sensing my panic, Somre pats the flower gently and folds the cloth back over it. “I haven’t said anything,” he says. “And I do not intend to. Ieldran only knows why you’ve made this choice, but you must have had a reason. Whether it is to learn something from us or to teach it, the Pathkeeper has brought you here at this moment, and I will not be the one who sends you away. Maybe it’s a chance for me to atone for my past failures.”
When I hesitate, he closes my bare hand over the cloth and gives my fingers a light pat. “Go on. You have my silence.”
I should thank him. I should ask what he means about atonement—whether it’s for Belendres or someone else, and how he thinks I might help him earn it. But my lips won’t move, and then Six is at my side, ready to lead me back through the camp. Trembling, I tuck Somre’s gift into the inner pocket of my jacket.
“Have courage, Edelweiss,” Somre says, stopping me as I turn to follow Six outside. “Your friends are counting on you.”
My friends. Does he mean the villagers at the fort, or the rangers?
Before I can ask, Six puts his hand on my shoulder and steers me out of the tent.
“Edelweiss,” he says, once we’re far enough from Somre to avoid his sharp hearing. “You must have made an impression. Somre doesn’t bother giving a nickname to everyone.”
“I don’t know why.” I try to sound casual, but my voice comes out in a breathless rush.
He gives me an odd look, but after a moment he looks away and we return to the rangers’ camp in silence. The others are waiting, laden with packs and weapons and standing impatiently beside the coals of last night’s fire.
Redge opens his mouth as we approach, but Six interrupts it with a brisk, “Good, let’s get going.” Without waiting for an answer, he accepts the unstrung bow Iorin holds out to him and leads the way into the forest.
“What about the tent?” I whisper to Iorin.
“We leave it,” he answers. “Someone else will put it with the others. We don’t take tents on missions, they slow us down.”
He turns to follow the others, and I fall into line behind him with Orami bringing up the rear. Redge and Thare have already caught up to Six, and as our silent procession enters the shadow of the forest, I take one last look over my shoulder at the camp, at the top of the infirmary tent barely visible over the rest of the unit.
Touching the pocket with my new dried flower, I face the mountain, ready to return to its comforting heights.
Six’s pace is brutal. Orami manages to stay behind me, though I can tell by the way he keeps stepping aside and ranging from the path that he wishes I would walk faster. I do my best, though I’m nearly jogging to keep up with Iorin’s long-legged stride. But I won’t slow. I will not give Redge anything else to hold against me.
The sun stretches over the horizon, brightening a cloudless sky beyond winter branches. With the light, I can make out more of the underbrush. I search for useful plants as we pass, but we seem to be taking the same route Six and I searched yesterday. I didn’t realize we’d ranged so far in our hunt for Somre’s herbs, but hours after leaving the unit, I still find familiar trees along our path.
Around midday, Six calls a halt beside a small clearing. “Get some rest,” he says. “And eat something—”
“Rule number three,” Redge says.
“Rule number six,” Iorin says.
“Which rule is that?” Orami asks.
“—before we move out,” Six finishes, talking over them all. “Ten minutes.”
The men scatter to find patches of bare dirt beside tree trunks to take their meals. I choose a spot slightly apart from them, clearing away enough space in the snow to sit without getting too wet.
To my surprise, Thare moves to join me. “The smoke pit you dug,” he says, standing over me with a piece of the rabbit from the pit. “The meat has a different flavor.”
I tip my head back to look at him. “I added some maple sticks to the fire.”
“That changes the taste?”
I study his hazel eyes, but there’s no hint of mocking in them. “Yes. Different woods give off different flavors. Maple is a little sweet, where oak has a more balanced flavor. Hickory and applewood are better for pork.”
Thare nods thoughtfully. “I’ve only ever used pine. It made the most smoke.”
“Pine works,” I say. “But the women in my village usually cooked with other woods.”
He gives another contemplative nod and gestures toward my sword. “Has anyone showed you how to use that?”
“Six taught me a little.”
“He’s got good instincts,” Thare says. “Stay close to him when we reach the tunnel. If anyone can get us into the fort, it’ll be Six.”
I glance across the clearing to where Six is speaking with Iorin. “But Six won’t be leading the assault. The captain told us to wait for him.”
“Captain Bayal is a strategist,” Thare says, a wry grin pulling at his mouth. “He’s always three steps ahead of everyone else. If the captain sent Six here, then he had a reason for it. And he knows as well as the rest of us that Six isn’t good at waiting.”
Alarm surges through me, but Thare just bites his dried rabbit and turns back to the others.
“Has it been ten minutes?” Orami asks, stretching his legs with a loud groan. “Do I have time for a nap?”
“Afraid not,” Iorin answers. “We’ll have to get moving as soon as Six is done taking his time on his own meal.”
“Don’t take your lack of manners out on me,” Six retorts. “Just because the rest of you have never heard of chewing doesn’t mean I have to swallow my food whole.”
“Who’s lacking manners?” Orami frowns. “I cleaned my hands in the snow and everything.”
Six takes a slow, deliberate bite. “It’s time to go when I say it is.”
“You did say it,” Redge points out. “Ten minutes. Those were your orders.”
Six shrugs, finishing his food in a single huge bite as he stands. “Happy now?” he asks, mouth full. “You rushed my luncheon and have probably doomed me to hiccups.”
The others ignore him, shouldering their packs and brushing snow off their boots. I do the same, readjusting the belts crisscrossed around my body when they dig too sharply into my skin. Sword belt: straightened. Satchel: settled out of the way against my right hip. Pack: strapped across my shoulders so they don’t pinch at my neck.
It doesn’t take the others nearly as long to be ready, but Six takes his time repacking his own things and finishes only after I do. “Now,” he announces. “We’re ready to go.”
We fall into the same order we’d been in during the morning walk. A full stomach and the warmth of the sun on my face fill me with an unexpected sense of contentment. If every step was not bringing us closer to a battle, and were we not driven at an inhuman pace, it might even be a pleasant walk. I want to ask the others if they’re worried, but no one talks now. We’re too close to the border to risk giving away our position to scouting Awnians.
The others pick their way soundlessly over the snowy earth, and I am slowed even more by my attempts to be as quiet. There is only one set of tracks before me now—Six’s—as the others march in the same footsteps he makes in the snow. His stride is easier to match than Iorin’s, but I still have to keep my eyes on the ground to ensure my steps fall within the same impressions. At least my feet are smaller than the others’, so they fit easily within the spaces. Being small does have a few advantages.
After a while, I look up to find the forest has given way to a sloping, rocky hillside. The trees spread farther apart, scraggly brush creeping up beside boulders and stumps exposed to the elements. We are back on the mountain, its looming presence like the embrace of a heavy blanket on a stormy night. Up ahead, Six raises his arm and gestures to the others. Thare peels soundlessly from the group and moves away, ducking behind a mound of boulders and disappearing from sight. A few hundred yards later, Six repeats the action and sends Redge slipping into the trees to our right. Iorin covers the distance to Six in a few steps, and I hurry to keep up. The next time Six lifts his hand, I think Iorin missed the order until I glance over my shoulder and see that Orami is no longer there. The position of rear guard has fallen to me. I set my hand on my sword hilt and glance uneasily at the towering pines overhead.
Six gives no more orders to branch out. The three of us pick our way over the uneven ground, moving from snowy terrain to rocky. As we range closer to the rocks, Iorin drifts out of Six’s trail to step on the stones where he won’t leave tracks, pausing every few moments to look and listen. Our pace slows considerably, so much so that Iorin even waves me ahead of him. I relinquish my position without argument.
Before long, Thare returns as suddenly and as silently as he had gone. Six pauses our march so he and Thare can hold a low conversation I can’t hear even though I’m only a few steps away.
“Sit down,” Iorin whispers, moving up beside me. “With your back to them, like this, so you can see in a different direction. I will face this way. Let me know if you see Redge or Orami.”
I nod and settle myself onto a tall, slanted rock. I’m more leaning than sitting, ready to spring back up at a word from one of the others and gazing westward after Orami. Iorin faces east, angling his body to put his back to mine.
A rustle in the brush startles me so badly that Iorin turns to look, but it’s only a squirrel. He offers me a smile, and my cheeks burn as I turn back to my watching. Almost before I have fully turned, Orami reappears through the trees, and this time I manage to control my reaction to nudge Iorin with my elbow. Iorin nods at him and earns a wave as Orami joins Six and Thare.
A few minutes later, Iorin taps my shoulder and points off to his left. I follow his eyes until I find Redge stalking toward us, as silent as a mountain lion. He also joins the others, and together they whisper for a few seconds before Six waves us over.
“No Awnians,” he reports. “Since it’s all clear here, we’ll rest for a time before making the final push to the tunnel entrance. Thare found some tracks, so we’ll have to be careful from here on out. Iorin, string your bow.”
Thare leans his shoulder against a stone as Iorin gets to work on his bow. “They seemed to be gathering resources,” Thare says. “I found some trees they’d cut, a path they started to clear.”
“Making a road for invasion,” Redge says. His eyes stray to me, dark and accusing.
My patience snaps. “I didn’t have anything to do with the invasion,” I say. “And if it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even know there was one.”
Redge rolls his eyes. “Something good may have come out of it, but a Wordweaver only ever acts in his own interest. Why didn’t you take your villagers with you if you’re so worried about them? Instead, you left them behind to save your own—”
I hit him. Pain vibrates over my knuckles as they connect with Redge’s cheekbone, spinning his head to the side as his arm comes up too late to block the blow. He staggers, his eyes wide with surprise.
Mine are too. I didn’t mean to hit him—well, I did, but I didn’t plan it ahead of time. A flash of shame pierces the anger and floods through me. I’m a healer’s apprentice. I should be healing injuries, not causing them.
Edlan would be so disappointed.
I open my mouth to apologize, but Redge lunges forward and snatches a fistful of my shirt. He yanks me up, lifting me from my feet and slamming me against the rock ledge so hard it drives my breath from my lungs.
“You think you’re so much better than us,” he snarls. His knuckles dig into my collarbone as he lifts me against the rocks, the worn fabric of my Ieli tunic tearing under his grip. My feet scrabble uselessly for purchase, my fingers clenching at his.
“Redge, stop!” Six seizes one of Redge’s arms to haul him back, but he elbows him away and presses his face close to mine.
“You watch yourself, Wordweaver, because I’m not going to—”
I kick up hard to drive my knee between his legs. He crumples, dropping me to my feet as Iorin and Six manage to drag his arms back. Orami is there now too, and Thare has his hand on the back of Redge’s collar.
I lift my head, panting, just as Redge heaves free long enough to swing his fist. Pain explodes in my jaw as my head snaps back, and there’s a sensation of falling without my feet leave the ground.
Then nothing.