“Sorry?” she asked, glancing back at her and then ahead to where the boys were.
“About becoming the Shadow,” Norabel clarified. “It really is a relief not to be the one everyone is relying on to get the job done. To be honest, my stomach was always twisting into knots every time the guys asked me.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry anymore,” she said, walking faster and glancing back over her shoulder as she spoke. “I’ve got things covered.”
Norabel scrunched her forehead in confusion, watching Ashlin jog ahead to leave her behind. She had been trying to apologize and reconcile with her, but Ashlin seemed almost annoyed by it. Shaking her head, she tried to erase those thoughts from her mind. She had already thought the worst about Ashlin, and it wouldn’t help to continue on that same course. She was probably just the kind of girl that didn’t like talking about her feelings. That was why she seemed so blunt.
Chapter 8
For the next few days, the Breccan Harbinger team was busier than they ever had been, choosing to pull off a job for four consecutive nights in a row. Norabel had voiced her concerns about drawing too much attention to themselves, but Ashlin had quieted those fears, saying that she had gotten away with a lot worse in Noor Summit.
However, on the fourth night, as they were waiting for a cart to leave the borders of Breccan, they heard the sound of horses and men coming from the opposite direction. Staying hidden in the trees, they watched as six carts came down the road, with a line of bowmen on horses flanking each side. No one on the team knew what to do other than to let them pass right on into Breccan. There were too many guards, and even if they did steal what was inside the baskets, they would have no way of knowing to whom the items originally belonged to.
The next day, just before Norabel left work for lunch, there was a knock on the window to her workplace. After what happened the night before, she wasn’t surprised that someone on the team would try to contact her about meeting up after work; but, turning to see who it could be, she was surprised to find Logan and his girl Aleta waiting for her outside the window.
“Aleta!” Norabel exclaimed, rushing over to greet her. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you!”
She smiled pleasantly and reached out to take her hands in greeting.
“Hey, what about me?” Logan complained, pretending to be hurt. “Haven’t you missed seeing this dashing face?”
“Hello Logan, how are you?” she asked, spinning on the balls of her feet to give him her attention.
“Very well, thank you,” he said ceremoniously, taking a short bow. “And who could not be well when accompanied by such a fine young lady?”
Aleta smiled and waved off his comment. “Logan’s always saying things like that to make me blush.”
“I only speak the truth!” he defended. “But you do look cute when you blush,” he added, planting a quick kiss on her cheek before pulling away.
“So, how have you been?” Norabel asked Aleta, leaning on the window seal and practically standing on her toes like an excited child.
“Good, thank you. Really good. I’ve actually been busier than usual. We’ve been ordered to make a lot more dresses with the summer festival coming up in a few days’ time.”
“That’s right,” Norabel said. “That’s at the end of this week. I had almost forgotten.”
“I know it sounds strange,” Aleta continued, leaning closer to her as if about to speak a secret. “But I’m actually happy about the added work. Even though I don’t get paid any extra, it feels good at the end of the day to be able to look back and see how much I’ve done.”
“Don’t let my brother hear you talk like that,” Logan commented, throwing his arm around her. “He thinks anyone admitting their happiness means they’ve submitted to The Pax.”
“He just needs to find a girl is all,” Aleta commented. “He’ll start changing his tune then.” She turned to Norabel, adding, “Guys always seem to forget about all their talk of glory and honor when there’s a pretty face to look at.”
Norabel tweaked her mouth, saying, “I’m not sure Mason is one of those guys.”
“Hey, my brother’s a man, just like the rest of us lowly males,” Logan remarked. “Speaking of which, he wants us to meet at our place today after work.”
Turning to Aleta, she asked, “Are you going to be there?”
“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I’m not really part of the team.”
“You don’t want to meet our charming new addition?” Logan asked dryly. “Maybe you girls could all try on dresses afterwards.”
Aleta shot him a playful glare and lightly bumped his arm. “I’ve got work to do. But you’re more than welcome to play dress-up if you like.” She then turned to Norabel, saying, “I’ll see you at the summer festival.”
“Sure,” Norabel said, waving goodbye to her as she strolled down the street, leaving Logan behind.
“I should probably run to catch her,” he remarked, leaning against the side of the building as he studied Aleta’s retreating form.
“You don’t want her getting away,” Norabel agreed.
“No, I wouldn’t want that.” Slapping his hand against the wood of the building, he gave Norabel a quick goodbye before running after Aleta and wrapping her up in a swirling hug from behind.
That afternoon, as Norabel was about to leave for Mason and Logan’s house, she noticed that her co-worker Wren had not come out of her work-station yet. She had been exceptionally distant ever since her mother had grown ill, and every time Norabel had tried to ask her about it, she would simply answer that everything was being done for her, yet nothing was changing.
Deciding that it wouldn’t matter if she was a few minutes late to their Harbinger meeting, Norabel ventured back inside the workhouse and knocked on Wren’s door. When no one answered, she timidly opened it a crack and peeked inside. She found Wren in the center of the room, hunched over her potter’s wheel with her face buried in her hands. She couldn’t tell if she was crying, but tears or not, she was clearly distressed.
“What’s the matter?” Norabel asked gently, rushing over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.
Wren lifted her hands from her face, revealing puffy red eyes and a harried expression.
“Has your mother’s condition changed?” Norabel asked.
She shook her head no.
“Then please, tell me what’s bothering you.” She lightly rubbed her shoulder, trying to comfort her.
Wren’s body convulsed as she took in a deep gasp of air. “I’ve…” she started. She took in another swallow of breath and sniffed to clear her nose. “I’ve been red flagged!”
“What?” Norabel whispered in disbelief. “But why…why would they do that? You haven’t done anything wrong!”
“It’s all the late night trips to my mother’s! The official at the north-eastern checkpoint must have thought…” the words choked in her mouth, and she shook her head.
“But surely they don’t suspect you of plotting against them!”
“They can suspect anyone they want to,” she replied dismally.
“Can’t the doctor vouch for you?” Norabel insisted. “Can’t he explain that the reason you’ve been travelling in the night is so you can visit your sick mother?”
“There’s no point.” Wren stared down at her lap, curling her fingers into her palm. “I’ve been red-flagged. They won’t take that mark off my name for at least a month.”
“But…” Norabel stuttered, wanting to still fight it even though she knew Wren was right. A red-flag was a serious matter. Anyone red-flagged had their Amias Gift taken away, had their house raided more frequently, and was only allowed to pass once to and from the checkpoint between their home and work. Since Wren lived in a different sector than her mother, it meant that she wouldn’t be able to visit her anymore.
She wished she could tell Wren about the different methods she learned in order to avoid the Pax checkpoints at night. She need
ed to be able to move quickly through the village in order to get to the woods as a Harbinger, and had become an expert at slipping past the checkpoints in the shadows when the man inside was distracted. However, even though Wren was her friend, she knew she couldn’t tell her about the skills she learned as a Harbinger. Even if she did, Wren wouldn’t be able to apply them herself.
“Do you have any way of getting word to your mother?” Norabel finally asked.
“I was able to tell her neighbor what happened. He promised to pass the message on to her.” Wren looked up and, noticing the look of concern etched on Norabel’s features, added, “Please don’t worry about us. You’re young; you shouldn’t be weighed down by my troubles as well as yours. Go on outside and have fun. Please, try and forget about this.”
Though Norabel knew that she wouldn’t be able to forget even if she tried, she nodded and reluctantly left the grieving woman alone.
When she arrived at Mason and Logan’s home a few minutes later, everyone else was already there. Mason, Ashlin, and Archer were gathered around the rectangular wooden table in the center of the kitchen, hunched over a map of Galerance. Logan was behind them, kneeling in front of the hearth. He had a basket and a coarse hand broom, and was sweeping up the ashes from the fireplace.
“Logan, do you think you could wait to do that?” Mason asked, turning back to his brother and eying the small, black cloud of soot he was kicking up. “This is kind of important.”
Logan craned his neck to look up at the table and wiped his sleeve across his forehead. “Certainly, brother, I would like nothing better. Unfortunately, kitchen hearths don’t just clean themselves. And if I don’t do this now, then we can’t make a fire later. And if we can’t make a fire later, then we can’t have dinner, and with no dinner, how can you expect to take down the Pax?” He turned back to the hearth, adding, “You don’t think Amias took over the kingdom on an empty stomach, do you?”
Mason shook his head and sighed. “Just try and pay attention down there.”
Logan raised his hand broom in the air and gave it a few shakes in response. With the sound of his bristles sweeping against the stone, Mason directed their attention down to the tattered parchment map on the table.
Studying it carefully, Norabel’s eyes were first drawn to where Breccan stood in the west. To the north stood Noor Summit, to the east, the capital city of Cashel, and Fairbrooks laid to the south. Several other points on the map had also been labelled. In the mountains between Cashel and Noor Summit, a dot was labeled for the dungeons of Arkadiak. On the opposite side of Cashel, lying to the south west, a small barrier had been drawn to denote the Forest of Liadrel. The line was drawn in red, for it was illegal to enter into this forest. Long before the Pax had ever existed, Liadrel had been labelled a dangerous land of temptations, and all human presence had been banned from it.
Standing in between each of the four major villages of Breccan, Noor Summit, Cashel, and Fairbrooks, was the vast Valor Forest. Several lines went through it, noting the roads and paths that one could take depending on which village they were travelling to.
“Back when I was in Noor Summit,” Ashlin said, placing her finger at that point in the mountains, “we tried to develop a way to figure out where a load came from whenever a caravan should come into the city.”
“Why should it matter where they came from?” Logan asked, his head popping up over the lip of the table.
“Hey! Do you mind!” Archer exclaimed, shoving Logan a little further away from him. “You’re dropping soot on my pants!”
“Think of it as perfume,” he said, tossing his broom into the basket of ashes. “I know how much you love that.”
He stood up with the ashes, about to dump them outside, when Archer lunged out for him, making him spill some on the floor.
“Ah great!” Logan exclaimed, looking down to the dirty floor. “Now I’ve gotta clean that up too!”
“That and your shirt,” Archer said with a smirk.
“My shirt?” he asked in confusion, looking down.
At that, Archer scooped a handful of ashes from the basket and lobbed them right at Logan’s chest.
Before Logan could retaliate, Mason turned to them, saying, “Will you two stop horsing around?!”
Logan shot Archer a glare but was careful to keep his mouth shut. He quickly went to the back door and dropped off the ashes, returning a moment later.
“It mattered where the shipment came from,” Ashlin continued from before, “because we wanted to know what to expect. Nearly everything coming from Cashel was meant to win the people’s favor. Shipments from Fairbrooks were usually food, and, no offense, but everything that came from Breccan was bad news. You deal in steel and weapons here, and it bulked up the security in Noor Summit.”
“How could you tell where a shipment came from?” Archer asked. “Was the village name on cart or something?”
She shook her head. “No. They don’t put the village names on anything anymore. Now everything is branded with the mark of the Pax. The way we were able to tell where the shipments came from was a little more creative than just reading a name off a basket.”
“What? Like seeing how long the two horse-riders’ beards were?” Archer guessed.
“Archer, how would that possibly work?” Logan asked from where he was crouched on the floor, sweeping up the stray ashes that had fallen.
“Well, I don’t know! Maybe if they had a really long beard or something, she’d know they had been on the road a long time.”
“And what if they already had a beard before they left?” Logan pointed out.
“The two guys were sharing the same beard?”
“What?”
Archer scrunched his brow at the thought of it. “That’s kinda gross.”
“Yeah, it didn’t have anything to do with beards,” Ashlin broke in, hiding a smile. “It was a little more accurate than the length of male facial hair. I was talking about horse feed. If we stayed to see the officials unloading the cart, we counted how many bags of empty feed they took out. The more empty bags, the longer the trip.”
“So what about the caravan last night?” Norabel asked. “Did you get a look at how many feed bags there were?”
Ashlin looked up from the table, her mouth titling in a mischievous smile. “Course I did.”
“And?” Archer prompted.
“And, based on the number of horses present, I did the math and figured that they were probably on the road for around ten days. Now, on horseback, but travelling in a caravan, that means they could have travelled, maybe forty miles a day. That would mean, uh…” She stopped and looked to Mason. “Do you think I could borrow a bowl and something to write with?”
Mason nodded, and left to go to his cabinets. When he came back, he gave her a quill and a shallow plate.
“Don’t you have any bowls?” Ashlin asked, slightly amused.
Norabel stared at the plate as well, somehow feeling responsible. She was the one that made all the bowls in the village. Mason not being able to procure one somehow seemed like it was her fault.
“Uh, they all broke,” Logan said, crawling under the table to get the dust underneath. He tapped Archer on the leg, saying, “Move your feet; I have to sweep under there.”
“You should have said,” Norabel told him, bending down to address Logan under the table. “I could have gotten you replacements.”
“It’s fine,” Ashlin assured them. “I guess a plate works just as well.”
As Ashlin drew a circle on the map using the plate, Norabel tried to appear unfazed by the whole thing. Yet, inside she was wondering why Logan and Mason didn’t have any bowls in their home. It couldn’t just be a coincidence. She knew it had to do with her. She took a brief peek up at Mason, who was carefully studying the map. Not only did he seem to not want her in his house, but he seemed to take exception to anything that had come from her.
When Ashlin had finished drawing a circle, touching the eastern edge
of Breccan and spreading out from there, she announced, “The distance from one end of the circle to the other is about three hundred miles I’d say.”
Norabel turned her head to see where the circle went through, noting that it didn’t even reach all the way to Cashel.
“So, if we add a hundred miles onto that,” Ashlin continued. “That would give us a bigger circle, like this.”
Using the first one as a guide, she drew a rough circle a few inches wider.
“So, you’re saying that the shipment came from somewhere along this circle,” Mason said, running his hand along it.
Logan crawled out from underneath the table, popping up to get a look at the map as well.
“And he’s up!” Archer joked.
Logan ignored him as he pointed to the map, saying, “This can’t be right. That line goes past each of the major villages. It’s even further away than Cashel. In fact, none of the areas along this circle are even populated. They’re just forest land.”
“He’s right,” Mason agreed, swatting Logan’s soot-encrusted hand away from the map. “Is it possible you counted wrong?” he asked Ashlin.
“It’s unlikely,” she defended. “I got pretty good at this in Noor Summit. Like I said, this is my life’s work. I’m good at what I’m good at.”
“Um,” Norabel said, extending her small hand out to the map. “Did anyone else notice…” She trailed off when she saw everyone staring at her.
“You spot something?” Mason asked, encouraging her to go on.
Her fingers were curled into her palm, hovering over the map. Then, slowly unfurling one of them, she pointed to a spot that was half an inch inside the circle.
“Here,” she said, pointing to the Forest of Liadrel.
“No, that isn’t far enough,” Ashlin said, shaking her head. “Liadrel is only about an eight and a half day’s ride from here.”
“Plus, it’s forbidden,” Archer pointed out, scoffing at the idea.
“Nothing’s forbidden to Guardian Amias,” Norabel said, defending her theory. “And men riding from Liadrel would have to come from Cashel first since no one can actually live there. That puts a one and a half day’s ride onto the trip, accounting for the lost mileage.”
Chasing Shadows (Saving Galerance, Book 1) Page 9