by Aldrea Alien
“A bairn?” Sean blurted, spraying food. “You mean a spellster new to this world can do that?” He waved a hand at Darshan’s shield.
“Only in reaction to a pain stimulus. It is how we test for the ability in noble bloodlines.”
Gordon’s face darkened, a smouldering anger lighting his eyes. “You inflict pain on a newborn? Just to see if the bairn has magic in their blood?”
Darshan held up a hand. “A pinprick. No more. It is over in a heartbeat and causes no lasting ill effects.” As quick as he had formed it, the shield was gone. “Not even to those who lack the spark.”
Hamish tipped his head up to eye where the crest of the sphere had been. Raising a child who was capable of this had to be vastly different to the way childrearing was done in Tirglas. Nae paddles on the arse, for one. Certainly not after the first crack. “How do you stop wee bairns from burning down your houses?”
“That sort of magic does not manifest itself until about five years of age.”
Quinn gave a low whistle. “That’s a young age to have that sort of power.”
Extremely young. Especially when most Tirglasian spellsters discovered their abilities in their seventh or eighth year.
Darshan chuckled. “Strength is something that typically grows with time and practice, but there have been cases of a young child’s inexperience being behind a tragedy.” His expression had sobered the longer he spoke until he stared at his meal from beneath heavy brows. “I believe that was the theoretical cause of a fire that gutted half of the Pits in Nulshar some years back.”
“The Pits?” Hamish echoed. “What’s—?”
“They’re slums,” Zurron answered, sneering. “Mostly full of former slaves and elves. Those who are sick or injured, who cannae work well enough for a better home, live there.”
“And not generally safely,” Darshan added. “Or with much degree of health. My father has spent the better part of his life as Mhanek trying to find a way to improve the lives of people there. But I fear it may take the rest of it to see any sort of movement there.”
The group fell silent. They munched down the rest of their lunch, watching the odd cart go by and occasionally speculating what was within the sacks. Once everyone had eaten their fill, they threw the gear back onto the horses and returned to the road.
They encountered a few carts heading towards Mullhind—sadly carrying no more food than a traveller needed—but the vast majority seemed to have already passed by. Fewer still came by as they veered off the main stretch for the less-maintained road that would lead them to their destination.
“I would like to query one small detail,” Darshan eventually piped up, glancing over his shoulder at the guards who had, since lunch, been silently trailing them. “Will three men be enough to keep us safe?”
“Why wouldnae they be?” Gordon replied, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“What if we are attacked? You must admit, three princes is a respectable target.”
“I dinnae think the wildlife care who we are. And the bears are nae too much of a problem at this time of year, you’d be lucky to see one let alone have it bother you. Plus, with me brother around, we’ll be fine.”
“Why?” Darshan’s cheeks fattened with humour. “Does he speak bear?”
Gordon laughed. “Nae, but he can shoot them dead in the eye on the first go.”
Darshan swung his head around to shoot Hamish an incredulous look. “Really? Well, I hope we have no cause for you to use such a skill. But what of brigands?” he asked Gordon. “Would they not seek to rob us?”
“You’d be hard-pressed to find folk like them around here. It’s easier for them to find honest work in the farms, where food and a warm bed are part of the deal, than trying to pick out a living hiding in the forest. Those few who dare are soon caught or find themselves picked off by nature.”
“I find that highly implausible. The roads leading to Minamist are generally the worst for banditry.”
“Does your army nae patrol the imperial roads?”
Hamish held his breath. That question came perilously close to fishing for defence and tactics information.
Darshan laughed. “The imperial army patrol roads? The general would not have them be seen doing something so mundane. He only tolerates them getting involved in feuds only at the behest of the Mhanek.” He shook his head and gave a hiccupping snort. “No, the empire has an entirely different sector responsible for her roads and the safety of the people on them.”
“And yet, people still try the bandit life?” Gordon pressed. “They’re that desperate?”
“Desperation comes in many forms. Your first thought was of hunger and the home comforts of a bed. We must contend with war-broken families, slaves who have been abandoned or fled, even those who have been set free without the proper freedom fee…” He wrinkled his nose and pushed his glasses back up it. “People are doing that more and more, you know. It is a disgusting trend, worse than abandonment.”
Hamish shook his head. He didn’t understand one piece of what Darshan was saying. Leaning back to give his brother a surreptitious glance revealed Gordon to be none the wiser, he frowned at Darshan as if the man had lost his mind.
Darshan huffed and rolled his eyes. “When a slave is unwanted by their owners, a large portion of them are sold at market, but—” He held up a silencing finger as he audibly strained his voice in emphasis. “—there are a few who choose to free them. A fee is then paid to both the empire and the ex-slave. It is supposed to be enough to see them settled into a new life, but it often barely covers a single meal, if they see a single coin at all.”
“I ken all about what can happen to slaves, your highness,” Zurron muttered behind them.
Hamish twisted in the saddle to eye the pale-skinned guard. “Were you nae born in Tirglas?” He had spent so many years travelling alongside the man that he sometimes forgot Zurron had different experiences of the world, but surely the man would’ve mentioned being from another land.
“I am,” Zurron replied. “As is me mum. It’s me dad who came from the empire. He was just a wee lad still clinging to his mum’s apron, granted, but the memory of scraping by for weeks with only a few straps of hide to feed him isnae one that goes away easy. His mum probably would’ve sold herself right back into slavery if it hadnae been for him.”
“An all too common tale, I am afraid,” Darshan murmured. “The empire is in a constant race to help her people. But there are only so many resources, so many hands willing to aid. A lot of people fail to see the problem, or simply do not wish to see, until it becomes theirs.”
“And some sit up in their gilded towers seeing all and nae caring about a thing,” Zurron muttered.
Darshan’s lips flattened, but his gaze remained on the road before them.
The daylight had gained a grey edge by the time they turned off the road and aimed for a clearing they’d used a multitude of times during their journey to the cloister. Quinn led the way, as he always did, scratching fresh marks into the same trees as he went.
The clearing came into view and Hamish sighed. Winter hadn’t been at all kind to this patch. An oak had succumbed to the weather, its fallen branches stretching across much of the space like the bones of a giant. The branches of other trees had also snapped off, dotting the edges of the clearing.
“Well, this is less than ideal,” Gordon muttered, swinging down from his saddle. “Looks like we’ve a fair bit of work, lads.”
Hamish dismounted and secured both his mare and his brother’s gelding to one of the heftier-looking fallen branches whilst Gordon unpacked the axes. He had expected the branches, there was always at least one every time they settled here, but trying to shift an entire felled oak? They could be at it for hours and not make a dent.
If their sleeping arrangements had consisted of a single tent, then there was already ample space cleared and far from any tree. But given they all couldn’t cram into one tent, they would need to make more room. At
least there’ll be some wood. Not much, given that most of the branches would be sodden from their winter on the ground, if not starting to rot.
Hefting his axe, Hamish set to chopping off some of the larger branches to a substantial log. If he could cut close enough to the main piece, then he might’ve been able to roll it clear or even to the centre camp for a seat.
He eyed the oak after each swing. Even if they left the main trunk alone, they could be here for some time moving the branches from the middle of the clearing. A shame. There was a small cliff-side view not far from here that he wanted to show Darshan before the sun set. Guess I’ll nae be doing that. Perhaps on the way back to the castle.
“How can I help?” Darshan asked as the rest of them secured their horses and set to work on the smaller branches.
“Just stay out of the way, your imperial highness,” Quinn replied, his usually gravelly voice oddly light. “We’ve got this.” A few of the branches were easily dealt with, being small enough to drag under the trees, but the vast majority of them would require sectioning into more manageable chunks before attempting any sort of movement.
“We would’ve had a better handle on it if we’d brought a few lines of strong rope,” Zurron muttered. He tugged at a branch end almost as big around as his middle. Although the elf was the shortest of their group—by how much, Hamish didn’t know, but it had to be over a foot of difference from himself—his strength and stamina in hunts often made up for the lack of height. Even so, the branch didn’t budge. “The horses could’ve moved these bastards nae trouble.”
“You’re welcome to go back for some,” Sean quipped as they continued to chop at the wood.
“Feck off,” Zurron snapped back. “I’m nae riding back in the middle of the night.”
“But I thought elves could see in the dark,” the other guard needled. They were all well aware just how much better the elf’s vision was at seeing even in the blackest night when compared to theirs. Zurron often boasted about it.
Muttering and swearing under his breath, Zurron stormed over to a smaller branch and started hauling it towards the tree line. “Just because I can be,” he growled between tugs as the branch snagged on bush and grass. “Doesnae mean I want to be out in the dark on me own.”
Darshan shuffled on the spot near the horses. The silvery off-white shade of his sherwani practically glowed against the shadowy backdrop of the forest. “I am quite certain I can assist with—”
“Quinn’s right,” Gordon said. “Staying put is your best course of action. You’re nae built for this task and I wouldnae want to have you break something trying.” He swung his axe at one of the oak branches. The outside caved in to reveal the powdery white core of decay. Giving a disgusted grunt, his brother moved on to the next branch. This proved to have a little more substance. “Mind the horses if you feel the need to be useful.”
Hamish winced. Yes, Darshan would likely get hurt if he dared to attempt something as foolhardy as moving a branch as big as himself, but Gordon could’ve delivered that with a little more tact.
Sean let out a strangled yelp.
They all spun to find the thick branch Zurron had abandoned was wobbling in the air. It swung on its axis, ponderous and deliberate. When the length of the branch was finally lined up with the trees behind it, the branch sailed backwards to land amongst the undergrowth with the hearty thump.
He glanced at Gordon, praying his brother had witnessed the same spectacle. By the way everyone eyed the branch, he could be certain it wasn’t just him seeing things.
“As I was saying.” Darshan still stood by the horses, his arms folded with his hips and shoulders tilted cockily.
“That’s a neat trick right enough,” Gordon drawled, rubbing his chin.
Hamish rolled his eyes and hacked off another piece from the branch he worked on. Trust his brother to act as if he hadn’t just witnessed a spellster effortlessly heft around a branch almost as big as himself.
Gordon jerked a thumb at the oak. “But that’s the bugger we have to contend with. So unless you can lift that out of our way, I’d suggest—”
“Watch the horses,” Darshan said, marching past Gordon to eye the oak close up.
“Excuse me?”
Even as his brother argued with the spellster, Hamish quietly abandoned his axe in favour of untying his mare.
“You heard me,” Darshan retorted over his shoulder. He laid a hand on the fallen trunk, pressing against it. “Naturally, I would not dream of telling you how to control your animals, but this is going to make a lot of noise.”
“You’re pulling me leg, right? You’re nae going to be able to lift that, magic or nae.” Nevertheless, Gordon edged towards the tethered horses. As did the three guards.
Darshan planted himself before the tree. “I can certainly give it a try.”
Hamish thought back to the night his lover managed to suspend him outside the window. Lifting Hamish seemed to have demanded quite a bit of effort on Darshan’s part. He’d rather the man didn’t strain whatever the spellster used to focus his power. “You really dinnae need to.” If they chopped off the bothersome branches, then Darshan could aid in their removal.
The tree shifted slightly, groaning and dropping pieces as the fragile, hollow shell that remained of the trunk slowly crushed in on itself with the pressure. A faint purple sheen surrounded the tree—a shield?—there for only a moment before failing, much as it had when trying to contain Hamish. A crack, akin to the shattering of dry bones, echoed across the clearing.
Hamish tightened his grip on the reins as his mare launched backwards with a snort. Her focus remained on the tree, her eyes wide enough to show white all around. “It’s all right, lass,” he murmured, sure his attempts to soothe her weren’t getting through.
The others struggled similarly. Sean and Quinn both fighting to control not only their mounts, but also Darshan’s pony. Warrior lived up to his name, pulling back on the reins and kicking out at the bigger horses. Mercifully, each strike missed, if by mere inches at times. The last thing they needed was for one of the horses to break a leg.
“Let me have him,” Zurron said. He tossed the reins of his placid-in-comparison gelding to Gordon and vaulted onto the pony. Warrior reared, shaking off the other two men, and took off into the forest with the elf clinging to his saddle.
“Leave him,” Gordon commanded as the other guards went to follow. “He’ll be back when the noise stops.” Like the horses, the elf was capable of hearing far better than the average human. If anyone would know when Darshan was done moving the tree, it’d be Zurron.
We should’ve gone with him. Although, hearing the dreadful cracking without seeing the cause might’ve been worse for the horses. How much longer would it take? He risked a glance over his shoulder at Darshan.
The oak trunk sat suspended a good few feet in the air. Hamish blinked hard to clear his eyes. Lifting a branch that probably weighed as much as himself was one thing, but an entire tree?
“By the Goddess,” Gordon breathed. His brother’s mouth hung open like a broken trap.
Rocking and groaning, the tree rotated to line up with the clearing’s edge, much like what the man had done with the branch. Only this time, Darshan swayed along with the motion. He no longer stood quite so confidently, his knees sagging to the point where they leant against each other.
Would the tree also fall if Darshan dropped where he stood?
Thrusting his mare’s reins into Quinn’s hands, Hamish hastened to his lover’s side. “That’s enough.” He laid a hand on the spellster’s shoulder, gently least he startled the man.
Darshan’s body trembled, straining as if he lifted the tree not by magic, but with his entire body. By his rasping breath, Hamish would forgive anyone for thinking the man had sprinted all the way here from the castle. Those hazel eyes were glazed, focused only on what was ahead of him, and the angle of his jaw suggested clenched teeth. Hamish wasn’t even certain he had been heard.
The tree rocked away from them, branches snapping against the ground. The main trunk drifted closer to the ground with every foot it neared the tree line. It continued on that way until returning to the forest floor where, with a final grunt from Darshan, it rolled against the other trees. Some of the sturdier branches still encroached on the clearing, a mere handful compared to the main bulk.
Darshan sagged to the ground as if he were boneless. Sweat ran down his face, dripping from his tuft of a beard. “I trust,” he said, puffing at every other word. “That is a sufficient amount of room for the tents?”
“And then some.” There were a few spindly branches scattered around the clearing, but the rest of the group would be able to make swift work of them. “You really didnae have to lift the whole thing.”
Although his lover’s head remained drooped, Hamish was certain he caught the edge of a glare. He knew that expression well, had seen a similar one on Nora’s face right before she proved some unbeliever wrong.
Darshan exhaled in one long sigh, his exhaustion seemingly slipping away. “Yes, well.” He got to his feet and adjusted his sherwani, brushing the dirt off the hem and his knees. “As much as watching you get all sweaty and exhausted whilst chopping wood would have been entertaining, such effort was uncalled-for.”
Effort? Hamish wordlessly wiped his lover’s brow. His skin was a blotchy mix of ruddy and pallid. How much had this little display taken from the man? He wrapped an arm around Darshan’s shoulders, subtly assisting the spellster as they casually wandered to a branch that looked strong enough to hold the man. “How about you rest here for a bit and leave the cleaning up to us?”
A small, slightly amused, smile tweaked one side of his lover’s moustache. “That sounds adequate.”
Hamish returned to the middle of the clearing. Already, Quinn had dragged a few of the more troublesome branches to one side. They’d likely use what they could from them for firewood, but a lot of the rubble was a crumbly mess.
Hamish glanced over at the horses as he helped the other guard. A few of the less-spooked mounts were tethered with both Sean and Gordon busy reassuring the rest. There was no sign of Zurron, but the elf was likely deliberately taking his time to calm the pony and cool him down. As long as he gets back before dark. Warrior still had one of the tents strapped to his saddle and Hamish didn’t fancy wrestling with it in the light of a campfire.