Imber

by Tyffany Hackett

  I chuckled quietly as I hid daggers in my boots, and strapped a sword on my side. Meryn hadn’t been far into the forest either so she had no real idea what to expect—but she did know the stories better than I could ever dream to, and if she was strapping in weapons, I wanted to be over prepared.

  The men returned not long after, each adorned with heavy cloaks that draped over their shoulders and concealed the bags on their backs. Camion looked slightly uncomfortable in the new set of leathers Jyn had found for him, even though the set fit him quite well. He shifted under my gaze and rubbed the back of his neck. I wanted to tell him he looked fine, better even, but I froze when my cheeks heated. Jyn’s eyebrow rose as he glanced between us, and he tilted his head to the side. I ignored him and stooped to grab my pack. Meryn doused the fire as we all pulled up our hoods. The smoky fireplace left us with only the bright light of the moon that spilled in the windows. We crept out. Meryn paused to lock the door before we crept along the rear wall. The wooden door in the wall was the only one that the guard presence would be low on. No one knew how the wood was enchanted, so the entrance was considered low threat.

  Jyn found the door first, whistling softly to alert us, but we still lurked in the shadows until we heard the shifting armor from the wall that meant the guard swap. We had minutes, at best, to avoid any chance of detection.

  The door was short, only about my height, and carved with twin trees that twisted together and twined up above a single star. Our plan relied on the fact that Mother was the one who had sealed it and the possibility that I might be able to break that seal.

  I laid my hand on the wood, closing my eyes. My fingers traced the rough surface seeking any inconsistency in the carvings or any odd textures. A soft tingle ran up my palm and then my arm. Goosebumps raised behind the sensation, and I pulled my hand away before I reopened my eyes. The door shimmered with transparent waves of purple and blue that quickly faded once I’d removed my touch. No one’s eyes were on the door though. A look of pure awe softened Camion’s features—the waves that traveled from the door had colored my hair. Bright sparkles of blue and purple threaded through the dark layers, hidden until they were caught under the beams of moonlight.

  “Meryn?” I stared at the end of my braid in wonder. The strands sparkled in my palm.

  She stared at me and licked her lips nervously before saying, “This isn’t nature magic. How do you have this?”

  “What do you mean? What is this?”

  Meryn shook her head. “I’m not entirely sure. This looks arcane.”

  “Mother was a sorceress, but this doesn’t make sense.”

  “Your powers never manifested,” Meryn said quietly. Realization spread over her features. “Or I didn’t think they had. Has anything like this ever happened before?”

  I paused, considered. “Not since I was very small. I stole a trinket from Mother’s room, a ring I think, and Mother panicked. She told Father I’d been glowing, but I don’t actually remember if I was.”

  “So only when you’ve come into contact with your mother’s magic. That makes sense, because she never had you trained. Arcane magic will sit dormant for generations if left untouched and when released the magic won’t blossom if the user isn’t trained correctly. Arcane magic is a temperamental and particular magic and I’m not well versed in all the details.”

  “And her hair?” Jyn asked. His eyes traced over the colors.

  “A side effect. The colors should fade. If I’m right, and this is arcane, the glow is the reaction of her magic finding its source magic—her mother’s.” She paused. “On the positive side of things, this verifies my theory that the door should open—”

  “With her blood.” Camion flinched as he spoke. I turned my attention to him, but Meryn inclined her head slightly.

  “Prick your finger first,” Meryn said. “A small cut might not work, but I’d rather that fail than immediately slicing yourself open.”

  I pulled one of the daggers from my boot and pricked my fingertip, wincing at the pinch. I ran a finger over the wood and watched as the door lit up again. The faint glow remained this time, but the lock stayed firmly shut.

  “A bigger cut, then,” Meryn murmured with glance in my direction. “Cut a spot that’s pretty inconspicuous.”

  I stared at the back of my forearm. Considering the act had been easy, actually bringing myself to slice my skin seemed so much harder. I willed my hand to move, the dagger to cut, but I couldn’t make the actions happen.

  Jyn stepped closer and held out his hand. “Let me help.”

  I passed him the dagger and held out my arm, palm down. Camion pulled his belt loose and held the strap out to me.

  “Trust me,” he said with a vague gesture to my mouth.

  I gripped the belt between my teeth, my focus on Meryn as she ran off to the cabin to find more bandages. Jyn didn’t warn me, simply gripped my wrist for several seconds and slid the blade across my skin. I bit down hard to muffle my outcry of pain. The gash was only a couple of inches long, and fairly shallow, but the cut bled well enough. I ran to the door and smeared the wood with dark crimson. The wood tugged at the wound. Tears slipped down my cheeks. My teeth clenched down harder on the leather between them. Meryn was back before I finished, and the door had clicked softly and opened. She took her time, careful to clean out the gash before she rubbed myrrh oil on the skin and placed a yarrow poultice on top.

  “Yarrow prevents infection and stops bleeding,” she explained. “And the myrrh oil will help the wound seal. I wouldn’t worry so much, but with us going out there . . .” Meryn’s hands paused on the cotton bandages she had begun to wrap around my arm. She looked toward the door that now sat open. There were small shifts in the dark beyond. I ignored them and the churn in my gut.

  I offered Camion his belt and apologized for the row of indents. He smirked. “Teeth marks in my belt? The scandal.”

  He pulled his belt back through the loops on his pants and my cheeks heated again. This was going to be a long trip. I watched him for a moment before I turned to Jyn, holding out a hand for the dagger he’d cleaned. He looked as though I’d cut him.

  “This is nothing, Jyn.”

  He glared at me. I didn’t need him to say the words I knew what he was thinking. We had barely left Meryn’s cottage, and hadn’t even stepped outside of the walls, and I was bleeding. The wound was minor though, and the blood had worked. That was what mattered. I picked up my pack and took my first steps into the trees.

  Chapter 24

  I had to admit that the groan of the trees was far more intimidating this close. For a brief moment, I almost considered turning back to the safety of my warm, soft bed. But the other three stepped out and I closed the door behind us. I couldn’t give up two steps outside the walls.

  “We should camp as soon as there’s light. Most of the worst things don’t move in the day. Or at least they don’t from my experience. We need to stay close to the main path, but there’s a cave nearby. If we don’t find the cave tonight we’ll have to use our cloaks as a makeshift shelter.” Camion paused. “We’ll need to hunt extra food during the day too. What we have is fine, but if we see any real combat we’ll need any extra protein we can manage. Plus, I’m sure you didn’t pack that much extra.”

  Jyn nodded. “We can hunt when we wake up. Move quickly and quietly. We don’t want to attract anything to this door—including the guards.”

  I pulled a piece of bread from my pack to nibble on as we moved, an attempt to calm the ache in my stomach. We tried to be silent, but only Jyn actually managed. Even Camion’s practiced steps kept breaking the underbrush. The trees here were particularly dense, but some arched together overhead. I tugged on Camion’s arm gently.

  “Is there a path here?” My voice was barely a whisper.

  “There was, once. I don’t know much about why or where the path led. A few hundred yards up the woods have completely overgrown the area; there’s no tracking where it ends.”

&
nbsp; I nodded and ducked under a branch that Camion lifted for me. The forest was quiet, a creepy unearthly silence that didn’t fit with the stories I’d grown up hearing. Leaves shifted occasionally with the soft winds, but even the animals were disconcertingly still. I wondered if the woods were always this quiet. I thought to ask Camion before I clamped my jaw shut. Later, maybe. I didn’t want to be the only distinct sound in the shifting trees.

  As pink began to creep into the sky, Camion spotted the cave he’d mentioned. The hollow was small, but we could sleep comfortably enough. We laid out our cloaks on the dirt, using rolled clothing or our packs as pillows.

  “I can take first watch,” Jyn said, his eyes falling on me. “You need to sleep.”

  He motioned to my cloak, and I clambered onto the makeshift bed without argument. I didn’t have the energy to argue with him right now, even when he’d decided to give commands. Maybe listening to him out here was wiser than putting up a front. Jyn would know more than I in the woods.

  Meryn shrugged. “We can all sleep. I can ward the cave. Pick your poison—if someone crosses over that isn’t one of us, would you rather be jerked awake or have them die instantly?”

  Camion gave the witch a horrified look but Jyn said, “Wake me up. We don’t want to accidentally hurt someone harmless.”

  “I’ll need a hair from each of you to attune the spell.”

  We obliged and Meryn set to work. She used a stick to draw elaborate runic patterns in the dirt at the mouth of the cave. I was asleep before she finished. The exhaustion of the day sank into me like a heavy blanket.

  ***

  Shortly before midday, I jerked awake. Every inch of my trembling skin was slick with cold sweat. I ran my hands over my face, tried to steady my breaths. Was I to re-live Mother’s death every day for the rest of my life? My own personal form of punishment for being a terrible daughter?

  I got up, left the cave, breathed in when my stomach clenched dangerously. A twig snapped loudly from behind me. I spun and slid a dagger free, but Camion put his hands up before he offered a waterskin. “You okay?”

  I slipped the dagger back into my boot and took the waterskin, swallowing a mouthful before I answered. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

  His eyebrow quirked skeptically. “Does this happen a lot?” I didn’t answer, drinking from the waterskin again, but I saw comprehension light his eyes. “Oh, since—?”

  This time I looked at the ground before I nodded. I kicked at a rock near my foot, pushing it into the brush before he spoke again.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Why are you awake?” I wanted to change the subject. Jyn and Meryn seemed to still be asleep, and I’d run out so quickly I hadn’t noticed Camion missing.

  “Demons of my own?” He wagged an eyebrow teasingly, but the soft line of his lips told a different story. After a moment, he dropped to the ground in front of a tree, leaned against the trunk, and patted the dirt beside him. I sat.

  “The dreams will get better.” His voice was low, his head rested against the bark.

  “I know. Camion?”

  He turned his head slightly. “Yes?”

  “Thank you. For what you said yesterday.”

  “I meant every word. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

  “You’ve been a better friend to me than I deserve,” I said. “So truly, thank you.”

  “Always.” He closed his eyes, rolling his neck and stretching his arms. His eyes snapped open with a clap of his hands. “Let’s practice with that new bow of yours. Just through those trees there’s a stump we can use as a target.”

  I stared. “Right now?”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t really have a reason, I suppose.”

  Camion sat forward. “I can protect you, if that’s what you’re worried about. But let’s be honest, we need everyone able to fight. Jyn thinks you’re stronger with your bow. Might as well practice. Besides . . . ” He paused, leaning closer. He hesitated before he reached out, brushing my cheekbone with his thumb. My breath caught and he said, “I’ve seen that look before. I’m not leaving you alone.”

  “I’m fine,” I said quietly. I wanted to grab him when he pulled away to lean back against the tree. To make him move closer again. Treacherous mind.

  “So, do any of you know what we’ll actually find once we get . . . wherever we’re going in this damned forest?”

  I heard reluctance in his voice at the topic change, but part of me appreciated that he didn’t press. Certainly not the part of me that still lingered on that briefest of caresses. Heat spread up my neck.

  “No, we don’t.” I swallowed hard, adding, “Meryn has a book, an old book, with a map tied into the front pages. The sketches aren’t particularly detailed, but they give us a general idea of where we’re going.”

  “Nothing good can come of this, I’m sure.”

  His eyes turned upward, focused on the treetops. I watched the shifting blues and greens catch the sunlight and my traitorous fingers ached to touch his cheeks, to pull his chin down so I could see the colors more clearly. Eyes were the windows to the soul. I yearned to see more of his, to learn more about him. When he finally looked down and met my eyes, I froze. He winked.

  “Let’s go practice with that bow, shall we?”

  I wanted to sink into the dirt below my feet. These feelings were confusing and disorienting. Almost five years ago was the last time a man really drew my interest, but Camion sparked that curiosity somewhere deep in my soul.

  I remembered how that last relationship had ended with vivid clarity—two days past offering him my heart and I’d never seen Andimir again. Another scar, another piece of my heart torn off. I wondered how much remained, after all these years.

  Camion held out his hand and flutters raced through my chest. Maybe there was more left than I imagined. I accepted, let him pull me up. I dipped into the cave long enough to grab my bow and quiver before I followed Camion into the trees. We walked for several minutes before he pointed—a stump, right about my height. The little stub of wood rested inside of a small ring of trees.

  “I suppose it’s a good thing you don’t want to kidnap me,” I remarked. “I followed you right into the woods without question.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Are you presuming my motives? I could be leading you right into a trap.”

  “Fair point.”

  “Stretch first. You have the luxury now, you might not later.”

  I huffed loudly and dropped to the dirt again. “I think you like watching me stretch.”

  Camion grinned broadly—really grinned, the first time I’d seen him do so in all the time I had known him. He shook his head in amusement. “You’re a spitfire, Tyli. I don’t pity the man who marries you.”

  “You don’t?”

  He squatted to my level as I pulled my arms behind my back. “I don’t. You’ll keep him on his toes.”

  I paused. A year of lessons and I still couldn’t tell what the knot of emotions on his face meant. I rolled my eyes before I bent to stretch my legs.

  “I’m not getting married,” I said finally.

  “Not ever?”

  “I don’t know.” I stared at the lacing on my boots. “I don’t want to marry Lucian.”

  Camion hesitated. He shifted to his knees. “So, don’t.”

  I let out a soft laugh. “If only my marriage was that simple.”

  “Why isn’t it?”

  I stood and picked up my bow, loosely knocking an arrow before I said, “If I can keep my throne I’m expected to produce heirs. Lucian is considered an ideal match.” I met his eyes. “I don’t have many other options.”

  Camion rose to his feet and stepped closer. “Tyli, you have other options. Don’t marry someone who won’t make you happy.”

  “I wish . . . ” I loosened my hold on the bow. “I wish I could ask my mother’s opinion. I guess I took her for granted a few too many times.”

  “If you need to talk
, I’m always here.”

  “I know. Thank you.” I stared at him for a moment, fell into those blue and green eyes. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I do have other options.”

  I didn’t mean to say it. The words had slipped loose without a thought and now he looked at me with curiosity and surprise, and I hated not knowing for sure what he was thinking. I wanted to. I wanted to ask him why he looked at me like that, why he didn’t speak. Instead he cleared his throat and said, “Straighten your back. You’ll never hit a shot with that slouch.”

  Had I meant to say that? Did he think I had? I could ask him, I knew that I could. Well, theoretically.

  Honestly, if the tree stump opened up and swallowed me in, I wouldn’t mind. Not right at this moment. But I straightened my posture and lifted my bow and a moment later he was behind me, adjusting how I stood. He didn’t mention what I had said, or what I had implied, but I took comfort in the small brushes he ran over my hands as he re-positioned them on the handle and string. I wasn’t crazy, then.

  “Alright, let’s see what you make of this.” Camion plucked a leaf from a tree nearby and pushed the tiny stem into a loose piece of bark on the trunk. “Aim for the leaf.”

  I inhaled deeply. My nose filled with the scents around me, the pine and earth. The forest was still silent, odd for the daytime. I didn’t care to know what kind of creatures lived in the trees that made no auditory movements. Camion made another set of careful adjustments before I pulled back the bowstring. When I released the arrow, it sank right into the heart of the leaf.

  “Well done, Tyli. Seems like Jyn was right about you.”

  “Or that was a lucky shot.”

  “Or you’re a natural.” Camion jerked his chin at the leaf. “Do it again.”

  And I did. Over and over, I lifted the bow and fired shots, each landing on or very near to the small leaves Camion hung for me. With each attempt, he adjusted my stance less and less and finally I managed three or four shots with no corrections at all.

  “I think you’re a natural,” he said quietly. “You’re very talented.”