Master: Arrow's Flight #3

by Casey Hays

  “I’m going to ask one more time before I blow your head off,” I whisper. “What is your name?”

  One of the two men beside him steps forward, presses his gun into the back of my head. I tense, but the soldier raises a hand to call him off, his eyes steady on my face. He purses his lips.

  “Captain Nate Snow.”

  He says it crisply, his eyes narrowed.

  “Was that so hard?” I ask, sarcasm flooding in. I nod at him, my heart pounding, my stem clicking wildly. “Now at least I’ll know who you are if I have to kill you.”

  I want to kill him. The urge to pull the trigger—to just end him now, even though it means death for me, too—vibrates through my every fiber until my head begins to hurt. I squeeze my eyes closed for a split second and step back. The scene around me fades to black and then clears.

  I don’t want to kill anyone.

  Nate Snow stares at me, his chest noticeably heaving with relief, but his eyes are full of a mixture of fear and anger. I sweep my eyes across the line of soldiers and toss the gun back to him. He catches it with one hand.

  “Look, I don’t want any trouble,” I say so that any of them within earshot can hear me. “But I’m not afraid of it, either, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

  Captain Snow straightens, his confidence returning.

  “We’re taking you into custody.”

  Two soldiers step forward at his order. I narrow my eyes.

  “Why? Why not just kill me? Isn’t that what you plan to do to all of us?”

  “That’s an option.” He sets his jaw and steps up, his courage sliding back into place another inch. I press him.

  “Why are you in Jordan? These people don’t deserve this.”

  “We have the right to be where we want to be. And we don’t trust sympathizers.”

  I nod, understanding. “I see. Because they help people in need, they’re sympathizers.”

  He doesn’t answer. This is becoming a pattern.

  “Just kill him.”

  I shift my eyes toward the soldier who speaks. He eases back a step, swallowing hard.

  “No,” the captain replies. “Death would be too easy.”

  I shake my head.

  “I think you’re making a real mistake to turn down my offer to negotiate, sir.” I pin him with my glare. “You may want to tell your leaders to rethink their strategy.”

  “Who are you to threaten us?” he snarls. “You’re just a boy.”

  He says it with grit, but his eyes falter, and this makes me smile. He’s not quite sure about me after all.

  “Right,” I answer. “You’re right.”

  I step around him and make a move to head on down the street.

  “Hold it!” His gun tips in my direction, and the other two soldiers follow suit. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  I toss him a sly smile. “Now why would I tell you that?”

  Another second of uneasy stand-off, and I’m gone before one of them can even think about pulling the trigger.

  Aaron sits on the stump of a former tree and guzzles water from a canteen. A stream of sweat beads his brow, and he wipes his forearm across it and takes another swig of water. The handle of his hammer rests against his thigh. His goggles sit atop his gray head, the lenses fogged with condensation, and he reads from a thin book.

  Where each blacksmith has set up his station, three-sided lean-tos dot the area, and just inside each one, peat fires burn low in metal barrels next to anvils. The sun burns through the sticky air, and the heat of the fires mixes with it until the atmosphere resembles a muggy, outdoor oven.

  Two soldiers position themselves under a tree on the edge of the plaza. They’re no more than twenty-five yards away from the blacksmiths work area. One leans lazily against the tree, the sole of his left foot resting on the trunk. The other stands, feet apart, arms crossed at the wrists over his rifle. Clearly word hasn’t reached them that a dangerous monster from Eden is on the loose in Jordan.

  They face the opposite direction, and I watch them from the covering of a low row of bushes for at least twenty minutes before I decide it’s safe to go to Aaron. I carefully weave my way through the other blacksmiths’ stations, cast a nodding glance at each man or woman. They stop their hammering long enough to stare at me, though not with eyes of hate or fear like the soldiers earlier. I only sense curiosity. They know what is happening in Eden, but they have to wonder why I’m here. An eerie silence grows as each one watches me pass. Aaron spots me when I’m nearly to his station. With an easy smile, he stands.

  “Ian.” He snaps the book shut, sets it aside, and takes my hand in a firm shake as I duck under the covering of the lean-to. One by one, the pinging resumes as the smiths return to their work. “I didn’t expect to see you. Not after you wouldn’t leave that poor girl’s side last night.”

  I shrug, my shoulders relaxing with his easy, casual tone.

  “Do you think it was the best idea?”

  He nods discreetly toward the two soldiers. I spare no more than a few seconds on them before I turn back to Aaron.

  “No, it wasn’t.” I tip up the corner of my lip. Aaron’s eyes twinkle without a drop of concern. “I shouldn’t stay long. I don’t want to get you into any kind of trouble for being seen with me.”

  This thought suddenly makes me nervous. I shouldn’t be here. Aaron could be viewed as a “sympathizer” by simply talking to me. He’s already done much more than this. I’m an uninvited guest in his home.

  “Oh, I could care less about that.” Aaron waves the notion away with a flick of his hand. “If they want me dead, they’ll kill me. And that’s that.”

  I lift my brows, surprised. “All right,” I say. I eye the soldiers. Nothing has changed in their demeanors.

  “How is Kate?”

  I drag my attention away from the soldiers at the sound of her name and sink into a hollow place inside myself. I want to guard my heart—just put up a shield and protect it from every arrow that flies my way. It can’t take much more, but what can I do about it? The space around my heart is too wide, and it seems to hang loose and vulnerable from my ribcage.

  “I don’t know.” My voice is just as hollow. “She’s in surgery.”

  My head drops. I don’t want to think anymore. I don’t want to feel right now, either. I shift uneasily, avoiding Aaron’s eyes, but to my relief, he doesn’t burden me with some heart to heart. He doesn’t comfort me or tell me everything is going to be all right. No lip service. Instead, he takes a step back, assessing me.

  “So you thought you’d find what I do interesting. Is that it?”

  He looks pleased, and I hate to disappoint. I shove my hands into my pockets.

  “Not really. I just . . . I needed to find something to do. To keep me from thinking, you know? From worrying.” I nudge the dirt with my shoe. “I didn’t have anywhere else to be, so...”

  He chuckles quietly.

  “You just missed my brother.” He nods toward a burning barrel a few feet from his. “Our nephew has a mischievous side, and he’s disappeared once again. It’s Michael’s turn to round him up. Have a seat.”

  He motions for me to take the stump he’s vacated, and I sit, leaning forward with my fingers clasped together tightly. I keep my eyes on his black boots, concentrate on breathing. An awkwardness seeps in on me. I haven’t spent much time with Aaron, and I suddenly feel weird for coming here. I wait for his cue. After a moment, it comes.

  “How are you, Ian? Honestly.”

  I raise my head, willing the tears to stay back this time. He creases his brows with sincere concern. I decide to be honest.

  “I’m . . . not so good.” I heave a sigh as the truth slides out.

  Aaron nods. “I figured as much.” He flips a bucket upside down and sits. “It’s not easy to wait on someone else to fix what you desperately need fixed. Not when you want to do it yourself. Just snap your fingers, and it’s all better.” His calloused hands hang over his knee
s, the wrists inert. “That includes everything going on with Eden, too, I suppose.”

  That’s the most truth I’ve heard in a while. The fire in his barrel snaps. A blacksmith’s voice rings out a couple of stations over. I squeeze my clasped hands more tightly.

  “I’m scared,” I admit quietly.

  I don’t know what prompts me to say this, except that I need to. I need someone to know it. The empathy stealing through Aaron’s manner—and in his voice—it beckons me to open up, to share how miserable my life has become overnight. To admit how vulnerable I feel. I need someone to tell me everything is going to be okay. This man with his soft, brown eyes and compassionate character has been nothing but kind since I barged into his home. And slowly, I shed a little bit of my defenses.

  “You have every reason to be scared,” Aaron concedes, and the soft tones of his voice wash over me. I close my eyes. “I don’t fault you there. If I was in your position, I’d be a mess. When you love someone as much as you seem to love this girl, fear can reign in your heart if you let it.”

  His words jolt me, a hard kick to my gut. He’s right. I study my palms, and thunder rumbles low in the distance as clouds gather in the east, dark and full. So the storms couldn’t stay away after all. Everything feels ominous.

  “She means everything to me,” I whisper. “I can’t lose her.”

  “And that I understand, too.” He leans back, crosses his feet at the ankles. “I know we’re just getting to know each other, but in light of what’s going down in Eden...” He squints over at me. “Well, I have a strong feeling you could use a friend.” He pauses. “I’m willing to be that for you, if you’ll let me.”

  There’s a fierce tenderness in his words. They’re fearless in an arms-open offer, and I find myself nodding in agreement.

  “Sure. I—I could use a friend.” I smile hesitantly. “It’s not like I know anyone around here.”

  “True.”

  Aaron bends and whisks up a stick near his boot. He taps it against his fingers. I toss a glance toward the soldiers. I keep expecting them to pounce at any moment, but they don’t, of course. I’m well hidden beneath the canopy of the lean-to.

  “You’re Chuck Roberts’ boy, right?”

  I lift my chin. “Yeah. How did you know?”

  “Penelope’s brother, David. I guess you know him as Doc. He talks about his friends and their families sometimes. Your name’s come up a time or two.”

  “Oh.”

  “Justin’s mentioned you as well. He says you’re quite something with a bow.”

  I shrug, trying my best to appear humble. “Yeah. I’m okay. ”

  “I wouldn’t mind seeing you in action.”

  “Sure. I . . . kind of left my bow behind, though.”

  “Not a problem. We’ve got a bow or two lying around somewhere.” He winks, and another piece of my wall cracks to let him in. “We’ve got a lot of weapons lying around for that matter—inside metal bins.”

  He frowns, starts to say something else, and seems to change his mind. Something catches his eye, and he turns.

  “Ah. There’s Michael.”

  I shift my position to watch a younger man with brown curls and a thin beard cut across the plaza in our direction, his movements brisk and precise. He drags a boy behind him. A deep scowl accompanies the boy’s face, and he looks worse than miserable. Michael nods curtly at the soldiers and makes his way to us. I shrink in under the lean-to a bit more as the soldiers’ steely eyes follow Michael.

  “I found him,” he says, swinging the boy into position next to Aaron. He doesn’t let him go as he curiously sweeps his eyes over me. “He was outside again.”

  Aaron takes a moment to assess the boy before he turns to formalities first.

  “This is Ian.” Aaron waves his hand in my direction as he lumbers to his feet with a grunt. He taps the stick against his palm again. “The one I told you about. Ian, this is my brother, Michael. And this . . . is our pesky little nephew, Thomas.”

  Arms crossed, I nod at Michael, cast a smile toward Thomas. The poor kid hangs from his uncle’s grip, and I can’t help but sympathize. I remember being in his same position a time or two in my childhood days.

  “And what kind of mischief did you get yourself into this time?” Aaron tosses the spindly stick he’s still holding into his barrel with a quick flick of his hand and focuses on Thomas.

  “He was climbing back in through that tree again,” Michael whispers. “I’ve warned him already that he needs to stay away from there.” He gives Thomas a small shake. “And he needs to stay in Jordan. It’s dangerous enough in town as it is. We don’t need him crawling around on the outskirts finding trouble.”

  Thomas wrangles himself free from Michael’s grasp, and snarls up at him.

  “I didn’t get caught.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Michael kneels, his voice a stern whisper. He takes the boy by the shoulders. “Things have changed, Thomas. You need to understand how important it is to stay close. We can’t protect you if you don’t obey us.”

  When Thomas doesn’t answer, Michael throws up his hands in exasperation, and stands, passing the problem off to Aaron.

  “We care about you, Thomas.” Aaron squats, eye level. His voice, though stern, carries more compassion. “We just want to keep you safe, that’s all. But you have to help. Do what Uncle Michael says. Don’t make his job so hard, okay?”

  Thomas tilts his head, thinking.

  “But, Uncle Aaron, I’m good at hiding. Besides . . .” he lowers his voice to a whisper. “They don’t pay any attention to me. I can be a spy.”

  “A spy?” Aaron raises his brows humorously. “Is that so?”

  Thomas nods rapidly. “It’s what I’m going to be when I grow up.”

  Michael huffs, hands on his hips. “That’s not an occupation anymore.” He casts a dubious glance at Aaron. “Where does he get this stuff?”

  I have to smile. If Kyle Stevenson has anything to say about it, the occupation of spying is alive and well and sits with the Rovers. But I keep that bit of information to myself.

  “That’s a fine dream, Thomas.” Aaron tousles the boy’s hair affectionately. “But right now, we don’t need you to spy.”

  Thomas studies his uncle, his big brown eyes unblinking. A smudge of dirt flares out across his left cheek nearly touching his ear, his curls damp with sweat. But his determined expression is the most impressive part. He unflinchingly takes his scolding, an air of bravery evident in his puffed out chest.

  “But you do need a spy. I swear.”

  Aaron places a calloused hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “All right. I’ll play along. Did you see something worth reporting, then?”

  “Yep.” Thomas’s gaze shifts sideways proudly landing on me. “I saw a guy as big as you. And a girl, too.”

  I straighten. Aaron looks at me curiously; Michael pauses in his irritated pacing. But Thomas?

  He has my full attention.

  Chapter 5

  T

  homas takes a step, plants himself in front of me. He puckers his lips once, his round eyes firmly fixed. Curiously, he reaches for my bicep with his chubby fingers, attempts to give it a squeeze. I barely feel his touch.

  “Yep,” he nods. “Definitely as big as you.”

  “Where did you see them?” I ask. “In Jordan?”

  He shakes his head. “They were coming from the woods, but when I got up out of the bushes to wave at them, they looked scared, and they ran away.” He lowers his voice dramatically, his eyes widening. “Fast.”

  My palms rest over my knees, but I’m suddenly tapping my fingers anxiously. Thomas leans a little closer. The kid has no fear.

  “Can you run like that?” he whispers.

  He pulls back, looks straight at me. I offer him a smile.

  “Faster.” I wink. He bares his teeth, and a dimple appears in his left cheek. “What else did you see?” I prod.

  His face grows serious. “I saw why
they ran.”

  “Why?”

  “There were soldiers coming out of Jordan, heading toward the woods. They didn’t want to be seen.”

  I cast my eyes toward Aaron and back again. “The soldiers didn’t see them?”

  He shakes his head.

  “And they didn’t see you?”

  “Like I said, I’m good at hiding.”

  I study him, my heart warming, and I can’t help but think of Ava and her innocent way of seeing life. I recognize every bit of her trusting nature in him. The world is black, or it’s white. The end. I chance placing a hand on his shoulder.

  “What did these two people look like?” I whisper.

  “Well . . . they both had black hair. I remember that for sure. And she had a sword, too. A long one.”

  His eyes widen, and he extends his arms to display the length. I exhale softly. Liza, not Diana. I can’t decide if I should be relieved or worried. My fingers tighten briefly on his shoulder.

  “Are they from Eden, too?” he whispers.

  “Yes.” I drop my hand, casting him a smile. “Thank you for the information. You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Yep.” He smiles proudly, a look of victory lighting his face. He hones in on Michael. “See? I can help.”

  Michael sighs, rubs his temples.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Didn’t mean to encourage him.”

  “It’s not your fault.” Michael takes Thomas by the hand. “He went out there all on his own. No one encouraged that. But he won’t be doing it again.” He tugs once until Thomas unwillingly meets his gaze. “You got that?”

  Thomas pouts. “Fine.”

  With a satisfied nod, Michael skirts the barrel. “I’m taking him home. I may be a while with these checkpoints.”

  “Take your time,” Aaron waves him away and settles back on his bucket. “I can handle the workload myself today.”

  Michael nods at me. “Really good to meet you, Ian.”

  “Yeah,” I raise two fingers. “You too.”

  “Bye,” Thomas waves.

  “See you, Thomas.”

  His eyes stay glued on me over his shoulder until Michael drags him out of sight. I lean over my knees, clasp my hands together.