by Ford, Shae
Brend glanced curiously about the empty stall. “Where’d everybody go?”
“They spent the night elsewhere. No one wanted to catch your sniffles,” Declan said. He curled up on his pallet, a wide grin still on his face.
Brend just shrugged. “Well … I suppose that’s fair enough.”
Chapter 33
Unwary Revelers
Kyleigh wasn’t sure what time she woke. It was still dark outside, but the air smelled a bit livelier — like the hours had tilted further from night and more towards dawn.
Restless knots bunched up in her limbs, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep, so she didn’t try. Instead, she crawled out of bed and went in search of something to do.
She was alone as she climbed down the spiraling steps, not even the farmer-mots had risen yet. She followed the winding paths through the mountain, her mind consumed with all she had to do. The next time she blinked, Kyleigh was standing in the hospital.
There was only one small light burning in the back of the room, and she went for it at a jog. It looked as if she wasn’t the only one having a sleepless night: Jake sat alone at a small table, his head propped up against his fist. His journal lay open, but the charcoal sat unused next to his elbow. He tapped one finger against the large glass jar that sat in front of him.
A minceworm had been packed inside of the jar just as tightly as it would fit. The poor creature squirmed miserably against the glass walls, its skin made a squeaking sort of noise as it struggled to get comfortable.
“I thought they were more like bees,” Jake muttered, when Kyleigh’s shadow crossed over him. “But they’ve got these little pouches in the shallow parts of their stomach. Whenever they feed, half of their meal gets trapped inside that pouch. And then they try to take off.” He waved his hand out in front of him. It was a halfhearted gesture. “They turn north — almost as if they’ve got very important business. I think they’re trying to deliver that extra food somewhere. So they’re not like bees at all: they’re more like ants. I was wrong about them,” he said with a sigh. “Turns out that I was wrong about a lot of things.”
Kyleigh had a feeling that the slump in Jake’s shoulders wasn’t all about the minceworms. She sat down beside him and put her arm next to his. “It sounds to me as if you’re a mage in desperate need of a task.”
“Please, anything,” Jake moaned.
Kyleigh hadn’t been able to work out a plan on her own. She had lots of little thing buzzing around her head, but no way to tie them all together. And she wasn’t sure which of them might be best.
Fortunately, Jake was rather good at that sort of thing. Kyleigh tossed out some ideas, and he got them organized — trimming the good bits up, while throwing the most dangerous ones aside. It wasn’t long before they had a very roughly-drawn plan.
“It’ll be like damming up a river,” Jake said excitedly. There was a spark of new life to him now, an eagerness in his movements as he pushed his spectacles firmly up the bridge of his nose. “Here — I can show you on the map.”
Kyleigh was slightly surprised. “When did you have time to draw a map?”
“I’ve been trapped in the bowels of a mountain for weeks: I’ve had enough time to write a book about the motlands, if I needed to.” Jake looked at her curiously. “What have you been doing?”
She shrugged. “Eating, sleeping … keeping Silas out of trouble. It’s all very important business, I’ll have you know.”
“Indeed,” he said with a smile.
He showed her the map, and it didn’t take them long to figure out how to get the trolls taken care of. “There shouldn’t even be a mess,” Kyleigh said approvingly.
Jake nodded. “I think that’ll be our best route of attack — as long as everything goes according to plan, that is. If not, things could end rather … badly.” He closed his journal, and his hand rested on the cover for a weighted moment. “I’ve been doing some research on trolls — oh, don’t make that face,” he said when Kyleigh groaned. “Fine. I won’t go into the details. But let me just say that I believe this particular breed of troll comes from near the Red Spine. Desert folk have lived in that part of Whitebone for centuries, which would explain why these trolls have developed such human-like fighting skills. And as they likely didn’t cross over the desert —”
“You think there might be tunnels leading from here to the Baron’s castle?” Kyleigh finished for him. When Jake nodded, she felt relieved. “Well, that should clip a good bit of danger off our journey.”
“Yes …” Jake picked at his book for a moment, flicking his thumb absently against its spine. “You know, I’ve been thinking —”
“I’ll try to hold back my complete and utter shock.”
He made a face at her. “I’ve been thinking a lot about the minceworms, and I believe there might actually be a large, queen worm buried somewhere in the desert — much like there would be in an anthill. It would explain why there aren’t any eggs in the separate nests we find, and why the worms carry part of their food north. And I thought, since we were heading north anyways, that we might be able to —”
“Find the queen of all minceworms and give her a poke? Absolutely not.” Kyleigh had to fight hard not to laugh at how disappointed he looked. “Jake, even if we managed to find a jar big enough, I don’t see how you’d cram her in it —”
“Joke all you want to, but this is important to me,” he said, stuffing his journal roughly into the folds of his robe. “I’ve always dreamed of doing something like this: of discovering new lands, new species, a new people, even — and jotting it all down for somebody else to read. It’s the mark of a good mage,” he added, getting to his feet, “to be able to pass our knowledge down to others.”
He made to stomp off, but Kyleigh grabbed the hem of his robes. “I’m sorry — truly, I am,” she insisted, when he snorted. “I’m not used to having so many lives depending on me. I’ve never been the leader before, and I’m not sure I’m cut out for it. I suppose that joking about it is the only way I know to cope.”
“I see.” Jake sat back down. “Do you think that might be a species trait? Do all halfdragons use humor as a means for coping?”
“I don’t — what are you doing?”
Jake had whipped his journal back out of his robes and was busily flipping through the pages. “I was so hoping we’d have a chance to talk about this. I’ve already got a space prepared — see?”
He held up his journal, and on one of the pages was a neatly scrawled title: Conversing with a Halfdragon.
“That way your name won’t be out there for everyone to read,” he explained. “We can keep things anonymous.”
“Brilliant,” Kyleigh muttered as she got to her feet.
“Where are you going? I thought we were going to have a talk.”
“Not a chance. We’ve got loads to do, and only a little time to do it in.”
Kyleigh left — grinning when she heard Jake’s disappointed huff from behind her.
*******
On the night before the battle, Nadine declared that she wanted to sleep outside. “I have spent so much of my life underground that I never thought to miss the stars. It is strange, but I think if I do not see them tonight, I will miss them.”
So Kyleigh followed her out to the paddock.
With the sun gone, the farmers had all returned to their homes. The only noise was of the goats’ sleepy grunts and the hum of the wind. They spread out on the soft grass, watching the stars as they wheeled overhead. The silence between them was light: Nadine seemed content to keep her fate pushed far behind her, and to focus on other things.
They’d only just gotten settled when a dark figure wandered up to them. The sharp lines of Elena’s shoulders stood out against the glittering sky, as if she’d been cut from it, leaving a dark hole behind. When she spotted Kyleigh and Nadine, she raised her arm in greeting. There was a rather large jar clutched in her hand.
Nadine sat up. “Is
that rice wine I smell?”
Elena shrugged. “I don’t know what it is. But it smelled like liquor, and I thought we could all use a drink. I swiped it from the Grandmot,” she added, when Nadine reached for it.
She hesitated for a moment — then quite suddenly, she snatched the jar from Elena’s hands. She braced it against her lips and a little stream of wine trailed down her chin as she swallowed. “There is nothing more she can do to me,” Nadine gasped, passing the jar off to Kyleigh. “So I might as well drink!”
“That’s usually how I feel about things,” Elena agreed.
They sat in a tight circle and passed the jar around. On its way down, the wine burned every bit as fiercely as the rice. But there was an earthiness to it, perhaps from the juice of fruits. The sickly-sweet grit coated Kyleigh’s tongue, and by the time the jar came back around, she was ready to brave the fires once again.
She only took a few drinks — just enough to numb her fingers and toes. She knew she would sleep easier with the wine in her blood, but she certainly didn’t want to overdo it. She’d seen the effects of spirits on unwary revelers, and had no wish to have her senses muddled.
But her companions must not have known the dangers, because they drank even after the wine had made them silly.
It turned out that Elena actually had a real smile hidden behind her terse lips — and a laugh, as well. Nadine spoke in her native tongue half of the time, and Elena answered her back with gibberish. They talked and joked as if they’d known each other all of their lives. Their spirits were impossibly high one moment, then they argued the next — only to burst out laughing once again.
Kyleigh leaned back on her elbows, content to ride along the bucking waves of their chatter. It was fascinating to watch humans like this. They worked so very hard to keep their feathers slicked back that it made her grin to see them come undone.
But as the night went on, their spirits waned. And their happiness dipped down rather suddenly into darkness.
Kyleigh listened, hardly breathing, as Elena told her story:
“ … I thought I loved him, but it didn’t … didn’t happen like I thought it would. Is that what love’s supposed to be like?” Elena said thickly. Her mask was gone, and years of hurt stained her face.
Nadine shook her head. She reached across and grasped Elena’s shoulder clumsily. “That is not love — it is defilement. And in my culture, if a man defiles a woman, every member of her family may beat him with the backs of their spears — three blows each. Then, he is stripped naked and sent out to wander the desert at nightfall.” She jerked her arm towards the Spine, so forcefully that she nearly lost her balance. Elena had to grab the front of her dress to keep her from toppling backwards. “If he survives the minceworms, then he has proven his innocence. But,” she laughed, “it has never happened.”
“I imagine that’s a pretty effective punishment,” Kyleigh mused.
Nadine held up a finger. “It is one of those rules that need only be broken once.”
Elena stared at the desert, swaying a little under the effects of the wine. “Are all men such … wolves?”
“No,” Nadine said firmly. “They are not. My Tahir was a good man. He loved me truly, and he never left my side — even though …” she choked and clutched a hand to her lips, “even though I am barren!”
She started to sob, then, and Elena cried along with her.
Kyleigh didn’t know what to do. These weren’t the sort of tears she was used to — the silly tears Aerilyn used to cry whenever she got her feelings hurt, or the sharp, final tears that flowed after death. These were tears that had been buried, and buried deeply. They’d sat under years of pain and anguish, festering in the coldest chamber of the heart. Now they’d finally come bursting out.
And Kyleigh wasn’t sure how to comfort them.
“You’ve been a good mother to Hessa,” Elena said, squeezing Nadine’s hands tightly. “I would’ve killed to have a mother as kind as you.”
“And if I ever meet that Holthan, I will gladly beat him with my spear,” Nadine promised. “The black will never fade from his bruises.”
Elena wiped at her eyes. “That’s the kindest thing anybody’s ever said to me …”
While they sniffled and dried their tears, Kyleigh quickly poured the rest of the wine into the nearest rice field. “I think we all need to get some sleep,” she said, gathering them up. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
“I agree,” Nadine murmured.
Kyleigh lay back, and she was surprised when she felt Nadine bury her head against her shoulder. Elena stared at them for a moment, swaying. Then she tried to stand up.
Kyleigh grabbed her by the front of her jerkin. “Come here, you,” she growled, pulling Elena down on her other side.
She struggled at first, but couldn’t wriggle out from under Kyleigh’s arm. In the end, she seemed to give up. It wasn’t long before both women were breathing heavily into Kyleigh’s neck. And the minute they fell asleep … her own tears began to fall.
Her friends were such fragile things. She could’ve crushed them both on accident. Yet, they held so much hurt — more hurt than Kyleigh thought she ever might’ve been able to bear. She cried because she happened to want someone who didn’t want her back. But these women had lost so much more. They’d endured so much more. And it had taken nearly an entire jar of wine to coax their sorrows out.
As the night stretched towards dawn, Kyleigh couldn’t help but think that perhaps she wasn’t as strong as she thought she was. She held her little friends tightly, and swore by the stars above them that she would protect them.
She couldn’t wipe their hurt away …
But she would live to make sure they were never hurt again.
*******
Kael woke the next morning, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace. The weather was warm, but not unpleasant. The air was crisp, the breeze was gentle, and lively new scents blossomed from the earth.
Spring had been creeping up on them for weeks, and it appeared as if she’d chosen this particular day to make herself known. Kael looked out at the fields, at the land he’d once thought to be grim and barren, and marveled at the change.
Fresh life had sprung up where there’d once been nothing but scars. The lines they’d gouged into the earth were suddenly filled with green — brought back to life by the thousands of crops that sprouted along their backs. Green leaves unfurled confidently from their stems. They stretched out in every direction, reaching to embrace the sun. When the breeze brushed across them, they seemed to tremble with delight: as if everything on earth was new to them, and they still marveled at the wonder.
Kael was rather amazed, himself. He’d spent his whole life gathering his own food: trapping meat from the wilds, stripping fruit from the bush and roots from the ground. He thought his woodman’s skills to be hard-earned and worthy … but that was before he learned the skills of a giant.
Now his face burned when he thought about how he’d laughed at the giants’ work, how he’d thought it to be simple and forgiving. There was an honor in farming that he hadn’t quite understood, a patience that hunting didn’t require. To raise life from a seed demanded much more than a bow: it needed a rough hand, a soft heart, and a constant hope.
It wasn’t until he saw the saw the earth breathe again that he realized this. And deep in his soul, Kael was proud to have sweated for it.
“Oh, look at the wee rat grinning!” Brend hollered.
He was standing up the path with Declan; they must’ve stopped when they realized Kael was lagging behind. Both wore smiles that he was certain held no mocking edge.
“You’ve started to take a shine to our lands, I can see it on your wee face,” Brend continued as he trotted to catch up.
Kael stuffed his smile away. “No I haven’t. It’s just a pretty day, is all.”
But Brend wasn’t fooled. He slung an arm about Kael’s shoulder and hurtled him into his sid
e with surprising force. “Nonsense! We’ll make a giant of you, yet.”
He whistled as they wandered further up the road, trying to match the songs of the birds that passed overhead. His notes carried magnificently through unusual quiet of the morning.
Just as Kael had suspected, the guards still hadn’t returned from the castle. Gilderick likely had them busy entertaining Baron Sahar and generally pretending that nothing was amiss. As an added relief, Hob had declared earlier that day that he didn’t have time to drive the water wagon — so if the giants wanted a drink, they’d have to go back to the barns.
That suited them just fine. With all the planting finished, the giants spent the day wandering the fields, pulling up weeds, moving rocks, and enjoying the peace. Kael followed Declan and Brend around, helping wherever he could. Thick white clouds drifted above them lazily, and their shadows brought a long, welcome relief from the sun.
“It feels strange to work without a lash,” Declan mused, tugging a healthy weed from where it’d been trying to hide between two carrots. “I keep expecting the sting to come at any moment. My back keeps twitching for it.”
“The poor mages have got better things to worry about,” Brend said. He shot a wicked look at Hob — who was wandering distractedly between the fields.
His fingers had scratched raw, red patches into the skin on his arms and neck. He looked about him as he walked, and his hand was clutched tightly around his whip. His chew sat in a forgotten lump between his teeth.
“Amazing what one little tale can do, eh?” Brend straightened up and glanced down the row. “Looks like there’s just a few left, here. Want to head over to the radishes?”
Declan nodded in reply.
“All right, then. Finish this lot and then meet us over there, wee rat.” Brend pointed to a neighboring field, and Kael nodded. Then the giants strode away, leaving him to his chores.
It was nice to have a few moments to himself. And weeding or no — he was planning to enjoy it. He’d just wrapped his hand around the next clump of grass when a familiar cry glanced the air above him. He looked up and saw Eveningwing circling overhead, but didn’t think too much about it. He was probably just saying hello.