Horde (Enclave Series)

by Ann Aguirre

  As we drove away, the sentries shouted, “Huntress,” like I wasn’t tired of hearing it.

  Rex cast a look over his shoulder. “Doesn’t that get wearisome?”

  “You have no idea,” I muttered.

  We took the journey in easy stages, and it was nice to journey with my family. Now and then we passed other travelers—and not just traders making supply runs as it had been in the days before the victory at the river. Some were human, some Uroch, and occasionally we spotted small groups of Gulgur, though they seemed shy and didn’t speak.

  The days were chilly but not freezing, but the nights dropped down cold, and we huddled together under the wagon for warmth and comfort. Gavin acted a bit nervous at first, like he suspected this was all a trick, and when he got comfortable with the idea of being part of a family, we’d take it all away. But by the time we arrived at the big river, he was cuddling up to Momma Oaks. I knew exactly how he felt because I had walked in his shoes, wary and distrustful, unable to believe anybody could care about me without asking for something in return.

  By then, the trees flamed with color on the Evergreen Isle. The name was deceptive, as only a portion of them had perpetually green needles while the rest turned crimson and gold, framing the village barely visible from this side. Rex paused on a rise, the mules shifting nervously in their traces. Edmund’s hand rested on his shoulder and Momma Oaks pushed to her feet to get a better look. She focused on row after row of grave markers in the field nearby. It hadn’t been long enough for grass to grow and it was too late in the year besides, so the graves contrasted sharply with the brown grass.

  “So many dead,” she whispered. “It could’ve been any of you, all of you.”

  Edmund shifted in his seat and dug for a smile. This was why I loved him; his steadiness kept her from sorrow. “But it wasn’t.”

  As they spoke, Gavin nudged me, offering the tattered banner. “This is yours.”

  But I had noticed how much he loved it. So I got out my knife and cut away the fabric Momma Oaks had used to sew my token in place. I reclaimed the card. “No, this is mine. The pennant’s yours. You guarded it well.”

  Gavin ducked his head and curled up beside Momma Oaks. I could tell I’d pleased him.

  “Let’s go,” Edmund said. “I’d like to see the place I’ll be calling home.”

  The wagon trundled on, all the way to the water, where sailors worked the river. Rex whistled and I shouted until one of them saw us. He turned his craft, willing to help us cross. I cursed when he recognized me because his manner went from friendly to reverent.

  “I can’t take everyone,” he apologized, looking stricken. “But I’ll send more boats to carry the rest, plus all your belongings.”

  “You and Edmund go with him.” I hugged Momma Oaks, and she looked so excited as my father helped her into the boat.

  She held on tight as the man adjusted the sail so the wind would send him back to the isle. Relatively speaking, it didn’t take long for more boatmen to arrive. It was lucky we had relatively little—and none of it heavy—but Edmund and Momma Oaks were skilled crafters, so we’d be comfortable soon enough.

  Rosemere hasn’t changed, I thought, as Rex helped me ashore. My parents stood nearby, marveling at the beauty of the place. As soon as he got word, the governor came down to welcome us, shaking my hand firmly and expressing pleasure that I’d brought my parents. They seemed awed by the attention, and though I was past the point of savoring it, their enjoyment was reason enough for me not to run off with Fade or go looking for Stone and Thimble.

  “How’s Morrow?” I asked when he paused in his polite remarks.

  “He’s well, though it was a near thing. I have Doctor Tegan to thank for his life.”

  “She’s amazing,” I agreed. “I’m sorry he got hurt. You probably blame me for getting him into trouble, and I’m sorry about that too.”

  To my surprise, the elder Morrow laughed. “Not at all. Nobody has ever been able to prevent James from doing exactly as he pleases, not even me. The only thing I can do is be here when he comes home.”

  Momma Oaks aimed a pointed look in my direction. “It seems we have something in common, sir.”

  The governor smiled. “So I notice. You’ve an impressive number of bags and boxes for a visit. Have you come to stay?”

  “If you’ll have us,” Edmund said.

  Before I could respond, he was telling Mr. Morrow about his skill as a cobbler and how fine a seamstress Momma Oaks was. I could’ve hugged the governor when he said, “We can definitely use people of such skill.”

  If there was one way to make my parents feel at home, it was by implying they were needed. I listened to them idly, leaning against Fade for warmth, until the governor decided nothing would do but for us to stay as his guests. I declined, preferring to occupy Stone and Thimble’s loft, but Momma Oaks, Edmund, Rex, and Gavin accompanied Mr. Morrow. His family lived in the largest house on the island, so there would be plenty of space.

  Fade and I went along to our friends’ cottage. I rapped on the door, hoping they’d be glad to see me. Thimble’s face lit with pleasure when she answered and she swept me into a tight hug; I wasn’t the only one who had put aside lessons learned down below in favor of better and brighter ones.

  “Dare I hope you’ve come to stay?” she asked.

  “We have. Not with you,” I added. “At least not forever. But I’d appreciate it if we could board here while we figure out something more permanent.”

  Thimble smiled as she stepped back to let us in. “Of course you’re welcome.”

  Stone echoed her warm acceptance, and he seemed genuinely glad to see us. We’d all changed so much, but not to the point that we were strangers to one another. That night over dinner, we talked until our throats were hoarse, filling in all the gaps and smoothing the rough spots. Robin was adorable, and while Thimble cleaned up from supper, I held him, and Fade caught me smelling the brat’s hair. I ducked my head, conscious of how absurd I likely looked, but his eyes were hot when they lingered.

  Later, in the loft, Fade whispered, “I’ve been dying for some time alone with you.”

  He’d spoken those words before, more than once, but this time, I knew what he meant. I rolled over and kissed him, then we practiced some more, quietly, and this time, we got it exactly right. Afterward, I traced the scar on his side. Fade shivered at my touch, pressing closer.

  “I came so close to losing you,” I murmured.

  “You never will.”

  I kissed him once and again, counting back all the times he’d kissed me, until I lost track of the numbers. That got him worked up again, so it was a while before we settled. But a quiet doubt trickled into my mind.

  “What was that?” Fade had always been good at reading me.

  “Is it all right? When I touch you.”

  “It’s the best thing in the world.” But that wasn’t what I was asking—and he knew it. So he added, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely fine. And sometimes I have bad dreams. But when you’re near, everything feels better.”

  “Then I’ll stay close,” I promised.

  Unexpectedly he stirred, digging around in his pack. “I have something for you.”

  I sat up, intrigued. “What is it?”

  In reply, he produced a shiny silver wire, festooned with sparkling stones, and I lost my breath. “What … when?”

  Somehow he interpreted my incoherence correctly. “I bought it after you left. I remembered how much you admired it. I probably should’ve given it to you when Edmund married us in Soldier’s Pond. But I was waiting for the right moment.”

  As he fastened it around my wrist, I whispered, “It’s perfect.” And silently vowed never to take the bracelet off.

  In the morning, we began our life together.

  After breakfast, we strolled through the village hand in hand; I had no particular destination in mind, but when Fade led me past the docks, I realized he did. He didn’t go far,
past the last cottages, up a gentle knoll, where the view was incredible. From this vantage, I saw the market, the boats on the river, and the governor’s house on the other side of Rosemere.

  “This is where I want to build,” he said. “If you’re willing.”

  Since I’d decided where we would live without asking him, it seemed fitting for him to choose the site where we’d raise our home and—if life was kind—grow old together, not as people did down below, but like Edmund and Momma Oaks. My heart swelled with the possibility; we could have years and years here in this beautiful place. It was so much more than I ever could’ve dreamed.

  “It’s beautiful. Do we need permission?”

  “I already asked.”

  I canted my head in surprise. “When?”

  “Before you got up this morning. For some reason, you were extra tired.” Fade wore a wicked grin, such pure temptation that I considered pushing him down into the bracken to show him what tired felt like.

  But we had work to do first.

  As I saw it, there was one benefit to being the Huntress. The way people watched me when we walked back through the village annoyed me, but also meant that volunteers came out in droves to help build our cottage, once we assembled the materials. With half of Rosemere pitching in, the walls went up fast, then the builders filled in the stones and laid the floors. Stone and Thimble helped, as they’d crafted their cottage, and Thimble had worked out all manner of cunning tricks to make a home snug and cozy.

  The only dark cloud came from Tegan. One day, while I was working alongside Fade, she made her way out to the site; she stood watching us with a thoughtful expression. I set down my stone and hurried over to her. In my haste to get our house finished, I hadn’t seen her as much as I’d have liked. I had reckoned there would be plenty of time to visit this winter. But the melancholy in her expression told me that probably wasn’t so.

  “You can’t go,” I said quietly. “I can’t say good-bye to you, Tegan. Don’t ask that of me.”

  My heart broke a little when I recalled Stalker whispering those words to me, just before I ran into the horde. I thought of him often, amid my happiness, and his death was one of my fiercest regrets. I saw that shadow in Tegan’s face too.

  “Deuce,” she whispered. “It’s time for me to keep my promise.”

  I knew the one she meant—to Dr. Wilson—and I was supposed to remind her of it, but selfishly I’d hoped she would forget. She didn’t belong in Winterville … or maybe she did, and I just wished she didn’t because I needed her nearby.

  “He knows so much, and I want to learn it all. I feel like I have to.”

  I understood that impetus, too, but I wished I could convince her that she didn’t have to be anything in particular to be worth saving. Choking up, I reached for her, and she hugged me too tight for long moments. Somehow I managed not to weep into her shoulder. We whispered to each other that it wasn’t forever—we would visit and send letters with the traders as they came and went—but we both knew we had come to the parting of the ways. From this point on, there would be no more adventures, no more wayfaring. She would go to Winterville and become a learned soul while I stayed here on the isle.

  “Let me go,” she commanded.

  And I did.

  I turned around so I didn’t have to watch her leave, then I sank to the ground and cried. Sometimes it felt as if all happiness came at a price. You could never, ever, have perfection. Life gave you beauty so you could bear the pain. At length, I dried my tears because Fade wore his fierce and brooding look, and I never knew how he would react. Tegan wouldn’t thank me if my man charged after her and brought her back because her path was making me sad.

  Then I paused my work on the cottage to go to the governor’s manor. One person in Rosemere would share my sorrow in equal measure.

  Morrow opened the door when I knocked as if he had been expecting me. His face was thin and pale, newly marked with a red scar. The rest of him seemed sound enough, though he still hadn’t regained his full strength. I gave him my arm as he escorted me to a large room with a crackling fire. When I was working I didn’t notice the nip in the air as much as when I stopped.

  “She’s gone,” I said softly.

  He lowered his head, the hair falling into his clever face. “I know.”

  “How long before you go after her?”

  “I’ll give her the winter, long enough to miss me.”

  “And if that doesn’t work?” I guessed he hadn’t told her how he felt about her; I could’ve explained why she was so leery of men. But as promised, I had kept Tegan’s secret, and nobody knew what she’d suffered in the ruins. With Stalker dead, the truth would die with me.

  “Then I’ll come and go until she asks me to stay.” His smile was a sweet and somber thing. “I’m working on your story, you know. It’s keeping me busy during my convalescence. I hope to have a draft ready for you to read by spring.”

  I smiled at that. “Fade can read it to me. It’s not my strong suit.”

  For a few seconds, I imagined curling up with my man before a fire, listening to Morrow’s words. I couldn’t imagine anything better. We talked a little longer, enough for me to be sure he’d be all right in Tegan’s absence, but the storyteller was stronger than he looked and he had one precious gift that rendered him invincible—eternal hope. Either that, or he was mad, which might explain why he’d followed me.

  “I plan to call it the Razorland saga,” he told me.

  “Why?”

  “Because of something you said when you were telling me about your journey north … about how the world’s all razors that cut you no matter what you do.”

  “It isn’t anymore,” I said softly.

  “Thanks to us.” Morrow flashed his charming smile, but I saw the bittersweet tinge to his gaze. He would miss Tegan too.

  “One thing I’ve always wondered … why do you greet the colonel by kissing her on both cheeks? It seems like that would annoy Morgan.”

  “I’m Rosemere’s diplomatic envoy,” he replied. “My father knew he had to find work to satisfy my need to wander. That’s the customary kiss of peace.”

  “Ah.” I should have known he was more important than he let on, just a storyteller indeed. “Then why didn’t you identify yourself when you were traveling with me?”

  His look turned sheepish. “Because I didn’t have approval for the mission. My father wouldn’t have gotten involved. So I couldn’t claim to represent Rosemere when we were building Company D. That, I did as James Morrow.”

  I stood, kissed his cheek, and said, “I’ll always be grateful.”

  Then I went back to work, along with half the village. The construction seemed to focus Spence, giving him something else to think about, and Rex kept him company. Spence liked him best because they shared a common loss. They didn’t talk much, but a certain bond was forming between them. They were also working on a house for Edmund and Momma Oaks, a fact that delighted me. I’d kept the promise to myself at last—and given them a new home. Gavin cavorted more than he worked, proud as a young peacock in his new cloak, which bore the insignia from Company D.

  With constant labor, it took under a month to complete the cottage, just before the first snowfall. Awed and delighted, I stood inside with Fade, unable to believe we had a place of our own. People soon arrived with housewarming gifts, a tradition on the isle. Stone delivered furniture that Thimble had built while Momma Oaks brought cushions and curtains for the windows. She fussed and helped me hang them while other village women offered dishes and pots for cooking, linens, blankets, and boxes I didn’t open straightaway.

  It was late in the day when they all departed—and along with the small touches, we had a table, chairs, and a bed with a newly stuffed mattress. The cottage was designed much like Stone and Thimble’s; for a moment, I let my mind wander, imagining how the years would pass. While I pondered, Fade built a fire in the hearth, the first in our own home. Wonder stole my breath and called te
ars to my eyes. I refused to let them fall.

  I opened our first gift. Someone had given us a picture frame and I knew what to put in it. “Do you still have your token from down below?”

  “Of course,” he said. “It’s stupid, but I can’t make myself discard the thing.”

  “I’m glad.” I placed his paper and my card inside the frame, and then I went in search of hammer and nail.

  Our talismans adorned our new home, and that seemed fitting, part of the old life to carry into the new one. Next I rummaged in my pack and laid out my two greatest treasures: Longshot’s maps and the book Fade and I had found in the ruins. He came to see what I had, then he touched the leather with reverent hands, as if the story meant as much to him.

  “I can’t believe you still have it. And it’s still intact, too.”

  “I kept it wrapped in oilcloth. Would you read me the end?”

  Fade pitched his voice low—and the story had more resonance now.

  They were married that very day. And the next day they went together to the king and told him the whole story. But whom should they find at the court but the father and mother of Photogen, both in high favor with the king and queen. Aurora nearly died with joy, and told them all how Watho had lied and made her believe her child was dead.

  No one knew anything of the father or mother of Nycteris; but when Aurora saw in the lovely girl her own azure eyes shining through night and its clouds, it made her think strange things, and wonder how even the wicked themselves may be a link to join together the good. Through Watho, the mothers, who had never seen each other, had changed eyes in their children.

  The king gave them the castle and lands of Watho, and there they lived and taught each other for many years that were not long. But hardly had one of them passed, before Nycteris had come to love the day best, because it was the clothing and crown of Photogen, and she saw that the day was greater than the night, and the sun more lordly than the moon; and Photogen had come to love the night best, because it was the mother and home of Nycteris.