by Aldrea Alien
Dylan focused on his hand, coaxing a small ball of pure white light. It sputtered and wobbled in the air, flickering even more uncertainly until it hovered just over the dwarf’s shoulder.
On the edge of his vision, he spied Authril inching away from him and the light.
He frowned. She didn’t seem all that bothered by his abilities when they were fighting. Perhaps she’d not witnessed magic beyond the weaponised variety.
Smiling up at him, the hedgewitch laid the map flat on the ground and removed a slender case from one of her pouches. The burnished bronze of a compass gleamed in the combined light as she measured off the distances across the map, mumbling numbers under her breath.
Finally, she sat back. “I originally intended to travel via the roads, but now I’m not certain how safe that idea would be. However, if this map is accurate, we could reach Toptower faster if we avoid the roads and travel through the forest in a more direct line. It should also reduce our chances of encountering further hostile forces.”
Authril grunted. She eyed him as he allowed the ball of light to dissipate, but said nothing further.
Katarina also swung her attention to him, but where the elf was wary, the hedgewitch’s face showed only concern. “Will you be able to keep up?”
He nodded. It’d been a trying few days stumbling through the pathless forest between camps, but he felt confident that he’d do better with rest and food.
Those hazel eyes drifted over his body, forcing him to resist the urge to squirm. The way she examined him was reminiscent of his guardian. “Perhaps we could find a replacement for your attire once we arrive at the village.”
His gaze dropped to his robe. Even without the hole in the side, the ambush and their trekking had left the hem ragged, scorched and stained. His undertunic was in no better state. “I really don’t think we can wait that long.”
He’d been measured for his robe the afternoon of his arrival and had donned it the following morning, but the main camp must’ve had a dozen or so tailors under their employ. It couldn’t have taken them more than a few hours, especially if several hands joined in. For a single man and, possibly, an assistant? Perhaps two days from the time of measurements to the very last stitch.
The hedgewitch frowned. “You can’t travel for weeks as you are. Healer or not, you’ll get sick.”
He smiled. The last time any sickness had befallen him outside of his journey to the main camp, he’d been in his late teens. “If we’ve the money, I’ll buy some cloth to patch them.” If they couldn’t afford to do that, then he would have to sacrifice a section of his blanket.
“If you’re sure,” she said as she retrieved both of the bowls from him and the elf.
The small slip of cloth wrapped about her forearm caught his eye. The off-white linen was dark with dried blood. He stared at the bandage, recalling her pained cry during the fight. “You’re injured.” Dylan extended his hand, inviting her to lay her arm in his grasp. “Let me—”
“No.” Katarina clasped her hands over his. “You said you’d little magic left to give before the Udyneans attacked.”
“And I’ve slept since then.” He wasn’t certain how long, but if the sun had set, then several hours must’ve passed.
By the way the dwarf’s lips pursed and her brows knitted together, his answer wasn’t good enough. “Admittedly, I’m a little rusty with how much of a toll fighting can take on a spellster’s body. It’s been some time since the Coven has given me any cause to study your people’s abilities. However, you didn’t appear to sleep all that soundly. It’s not quite as bad as it could’ve been, but if my injury still bothers you in the morning, I’ll let you see to it then. After proper rest.”
Dylan’s throat tightened at the idea of sleep, his thoughts swiftly dredging up the nightmare. His skin pebbled. He casually drew his blanket around his shoulders. It’d been the wind. Some chill breeze had slipped under his clothes via the hole and chilled him. Nothing more.
“If we’re sleeping here,” Authril said. “Then we’ll have to sort out who’s taking the first watch. I don’t fancy the idea of being asleep without one of us on guard, not when those bastards are still out there. They could be tracking us, waiting for the time we let our guard down and they can slit our throats.”
“I’ll do it,” he replied, his face steadily growing hot at the hasty way the words had fled his mouth. Trying in vain to shrug off the sensation, he continued. “Neither of you could’ve slept since I’ve been unconscious. You both should. I’ll keep an eye out for anything suspicious.” What that would be, he didn’t know. His training hadn’t exactly touched on surviving in the forest. Best bet would be to wake either of them at the slightest sound of movement.
Authril rubbed behind her ear. Those sea-green eyes narrowed at him. “I’d have to go with the dwarf on this one. You were thrashing around an awful lot. I don’t know how much rest you got. Probably best if you slept.”
“If it’s all the same, I’d rather not.” He really wasn’t certain if he’d ever be able to close his eyes without envisioning those bony hands and their creaking voices. Swallowing, he tightened his grip on the blanket. He didn’t want to find out so soon.
“Very well,” Katarina said, pinning him with a stern look. “But you wake me as soon as the moon reaches its height. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Madam Hedgewitch.” Dylan snapped off a mock salute, trying to alleviate the severity in her face. It didn’t work. “I’ll go check our perimeter whilst you two settle down.” He stood, shaking back the feeling in his legs as he wobbled his way towards the trees.
Ducking behind a particularly sturdy trunk, he made quick work of relieving himself whilst being certain his companions wouldn’t follow. He hadn’t been able to do something so simple without company since leaving the tower. Strange how gratifying it was to do so alone.
He circled the rest of their little clearing, weaving through the undergrowth as he kept the light of their fire in view. The flames put out more light than he would’ve expected. An easy target for someone to track.
By the time he returned to the fireside, the women had curled up on the ground, making the most of their packs and pilfered blankets. Soon, the soft rumble of a snore came from one of the women.
Dylan settled near the fire, carefully banking the coals before once more wrapping himself in the blanket. Darkness enveloped them. His heart fluttered and he rolled his gaze upwards, but the moon, when it eventually rose above the trees, was a mere sliver of light in the sky.
Stars peeked through the canopy of branches. Normally, those specks of light would invoke wanderlust. Not tonight. Everywhere he looked, the branches jutted across his viewpoint like bony hands.
“Stop it,” he muttered under his breath. “It’s all right. It was just a bad dream. You’re not trapped underground.” Just in the middle of a forest, with who knew how many predators? Whilst his haphazard sleeping couldn’t have restored the full extent of his magical ability, he felt capable of shielding them from something as banal as an animal attack.
What if his magic wasn’t enough? Authril seemed to think it a possibly of there still being Udynean soldiers out here. How likely was that? Surely, there could be but a few lost out here. A few wouldn’t be any trouble at all.
Thoughts of the attack tumbled through his mind. The first two had fallen so swiftly and yet… Well, they either were slavers or worked for them and, by his actions, they would never harm another person. They deserved the death he’d given.
A part of him had enjoyed taking their lives. Enemy or not, they were still people. Still had lives and loved ones. But it’d been so easy. Even tired and all but drained of the ability to work his magic, they’d fallen as swiftly as it was to crush a bug.
Maybe his tutors back in the tower were right, they didn’t deserve to be amongst normal folk. Maybe he didn’t deserve to be anywhere.
Join us. How simple would it be to throw himself at the next threat? To fall
rather than go on knowing he’d not been able to stop the attack? What if it made things worse? The Seven Sisters wouldn’t look favourably upon him then. The unworthy spent eternity trapped on their boat, drifting through the darkness.
His gaze swung to where the women lay, just dark lumps on the ground. There was nothing to suggest either woman was actually asleep. He shuffled to where the dwarf slept, intent on waking her as he’d agreed, before deciding against it.
Instead, he stood and, feeling his way through the darkness, halted at the side of a tree to press his forehead to the bark. He wasn’t usually the type to ask forgiveness from the gods, but it couldn’t hurt.
Dylan closed his eyes and clasped his hands over his chest. His lips moved in the silent prayer he’d spoken at every bimonthly sermon since he could talk. “I don’t know if you can hear me,” he whispered. “The priests say you don’t answer people’s prayers and you’re all probably busy judging and guiding everyone who died here, but just… Why me? Why am I still here?” He should’ve been at the main camp to help. All those lives might never have been wasted if he had just been there. “What did I do to merit saving that they didn’t?” He’d done nothing. He hadn’t been able to.
He waited, both hoping and dreading that, for once, the gods would answer. How long he stood leaning against the tree, he didn’t know. The passage of time came only through his aching limbs. His legs shook, tired from being rooted to the spot. Still, he waited. Just one sign. All he needed was one little sign.
Nothing came.
At last, his legs couldn’t hold him anymore. Dylan slid to his knees. He clung to the tree, his fingers digging into crevices within the bark. Anger bubbled through his veins, making a sour mixture in his gut. “What gives you the right to choose who dies?” he whispered into the bark. It wasn’t only those soldiers who’d lost their lives. There would be families waiting for loved ones to return, not knowing that they never would.
“Were we meant to fail? Was I…?” He took a deep, quivering breath as a far more insidious thought surfaced. “Was I supposed to die?” The gods hadn’t come to his aid in his nightmare. Perhaps that was meant to be his sign that he’d somehow missed his destined death.
Warm wetness flowed down his cheeks to drip off his chin. He was nowhere near ready to die. “Please, tell me what I’m supposed to do now.”
The king would send more people to the border. Demarn would always need more people to guard against Udynea. And he…
Dylan sniffed back his tears. He would be amongst them and, this time, he wouldn’t fail. He would do everything in his power to ensure this second chance at life counted. “I’ll try harder.” Every last piece of himself would become dedicated to those he travelled with. No one under his watch would succumb to the same fate as the scouting party. “I promise.”
“Dylan?”
The concern in that hushed, musical breath of his name had him rocking back to sit on his heels. Katarina. His breath shuddered through his chest. Was he not meant to wake her earlier?
Slowly, he wiped his face dry. “Sorry,” he croaked. Had he been blubbering loud enough for the woman to hear? “I didn’t mean to disturb anyone.” What of the warrior? Elves had far superior hearing than both human and dwarf. Had he woken her, too? He dared to glance over his shoulder at where Authril slept on, or so he hoped.
The hedgewitch crouched at his side. In the shadows beneath the trees, she was little more than a suggestion against the gloom. “Are you all right?”
Dylan choked back the welling urge in his chest to continue mewling like a newborn kitten. He must’ve looked quite the sight for her to ask. “I’m fine.”
Silence followed his answer. Didn’t she believe him? Probably not. He wouldn’t have either.
A hand grasped his shoulder.
He flinched, a high-pitched gasp leaving his lips, before realising it was merely Katarina. He didn’t cling to the woman’s fingers and he most certainly did not squeeze them due to any fear of her not being real.
“Come on,” she said, coaxing him to his feet. “Let’s get you back by the fire. I think I saw your blanket near Authril.” She grunted as his legs, still reluctant to bear his full weight, gave ever so slightly. “You must be exhausted. You should get some rest. Even a few hours will do some good.”
They slowly crossed the short distance from tree to where they’d made camp. She waited until he was settled by the banked fire and wrapped up in his blanket before striding off to circle the camp.
Hunched over, staring blindly at the dim suggestion of a glowing coal, he listened to her footsteps. Barely discernible from the surrounding hush of the night. Swift, too. If she hadn’t been kept back by his bumbling, she might’ve been able to reach the main camp before it was hit and raise the alarm. But she’d stayed with him. Dooming everyone.
Katarina emerged from the brush and sat next to him. “Are you truly all right?”
Dylan eyed Authril’s sleeping form. The warrior slept far heavier than any elf he’d known. But that was a good thing. He wasn’t quite ready to bare his reservations to the woman, but Katarina should be capable of keeping anything he said in confidence. “Not really,” he whispered.
“This might sound harsh, but you need sleep. Whatever thoughts you have going through your head right now won’t improve if you deprive your body of a necessary function.”
“I know,” he murmured. However, sleep came with its own problems. “I’m not sure I can.”
She shuffled closer, patting the earth between them. “Lie down and try. I’ll be right here if you need me.”
Dylan did as instructed, pillowing his head on his pack. It was far bigger and more forgiving than he’d expected, no doubt stuffed with their looted rations. Sadly, the ground wasn’t as cooperative. He wriggled, trying to find a comfortable position without sacrificing the blanket’s warmth.
A hand brushed his head, freeing his face of hair, much like his guardian had done when he’d been unwell. “Be still,” Katarina murmured.
He lay there, letting her stroke his head. Humming emanated from the woman. A low, dreamy tune he’d not heard before. He closed his eyes, letting his thoughts drift on the notes.
He was certain that the rain fell in one continuous drop. After two unforgiving, drenched days trudging through the forest, stumbling and squelching amongst the dripping undergrowth, he’d had about enough of the weather.
In the fairytales his guardian used to read to him, the trees would shelter the weary travellers who would build their little fires out of miraculously dry logs and sleep tucked against the trunks all wrapped up in warm blankets. He was rather peeved to find that, in reality, nothing seemed to completely halt such a downpour and the ground was sodden even at the foot of the heartiest tree.
Never had he been this soaked outside of bathing. His legs cried out to stop. His eyelids begged for him to let them close. He couldn’t risk doing either. Not until they’d found somewhere sheltered for the night. A goal that was looking to be less certain with each passing hour.
He’d shielded them as best as he could during the first day, but the strain of maintaining a barrier that dense had long since sapped him of the energy. Now, the best he could manage was a little heat and he clung to that ability, waiting for a dry place that would allow him to get warm again.
They walked in single file with Authril at the head. She’d sought shelter beneath her shield, although it did little to keep the water off anything beyond her head. The rain bounced off the metal’s curved surface as if the droplets were a hundred raucous fleas.
She halted and twisted to face him. Her mouth moved. The hissing of the rain atop her shield rather reminded him of a turning drum of seeds and drowned out her voice.
“What?” he yelled back. Water trickled down his side, further chilling his already saturated skin. That particular part of his body had stopped aching sometime last night.
Pursing her lips, she pointed off to his right. There was… someth
ing large just beyond the trees, difficult to make out in the gloom and screen of a thousand raindrops. A cave? Perhaps it was a fallen tree or some sort of rock formation. All of those sounded promising. Nodding, he tugged at the hedgewitch’s sleeve and pointed towards their new destination.
The closer they got, the easier it became to make their way through the undergrowth. In some places, there seemed to be a path travelling in the precise direction they needed to head and a flickering light coming from within the shadowy hulk of their destination. Perhaps it was shelter. The slog of his passage picked up, the thought of being dry again reinvigorating him.
The foliage thinned out to a clearing. He halted, stumbling a few steps more when Katarina collided into his back.
The shape they’d veered towards was a hut. An inhabited one, if he was to judge by the smoke coming out of the chimney. The flickering light he’d seen must belong to the fireplace. Warmth. The simple thought pushed his feet across the clearing to the door where Authril was already pounding on the weathered planks.
“I know you’re in there!” she bellowed. “Open up!”
Dylan winced. “Is it wise to antagonise them?” His teeth chattered as he spoke and he barely missed biting his tongue. From the outside, there was no indication of how many people lived here. Although, surely the occupants wouldn’t be alone. They could easily opt to leave a sodden trio of strangers to the elements. He’d rather not spend another night trying to sleep in the rain.
There was the faintest scrape of a bolt being pulled back. The door creaked open a little ways.
Dylan stepped back, unsure what to make of this silent invitation.
Authril pushed the door open further, hesitantly at first, then with more vigour as she found no resistance. She crossed the threshold in a few wary steps, her shield held at her side, only to halt just inside the room. He crowded her, the desire to be out of the rain superseding his caution.
A human woman, clad in a simple linen shirt and trousers, stood in the middle of the room. The warm yellow glow of a fire pit burned merrily at her back, obscuring much of the woman’s features. The scent of food cooking nearby tickled his nose.