Heat snaked up Senri’s cheeks. Lanan teased her, she knew. Still, something about the thought of them being romantically involved felt extremely...awkward to her. She shook the thought from her mind. No, Lanan seemed far too like herself. Senri cleared her throat. “I’m not really trying with you. Maybe if you grew your hair out.”
Lanan laughed. “Is that what I’ve been doing wrong? I see how it is. You like the girly ones with the dresses and the long hair flowing in the wind.”
“At least I know what I like.” Senri slipped the bow onto the horn of the saddle.
“I’m simply not as choosy as you,” Lanan replied. “And not that it matters, but I am currently spoken for.” The two shared a smile, and though Senri shook her head, she could not help feeling better. Lanan leaned on her horse. “Anyway, what has you so eager to leave?”
Senri groaned and rested her head against the saddle. Curse Lanan and all her persistence. “If I explain, will you leave it be?”
“I swear on my honor as a Warrior.”
“All right.” Senri patted Stomps’s side, looking for a distraction. “I...I don’t know if I measure up to the other recruits.”
After a long pause, Lanan asked, “You mean in regards to progress in your training?”
Senri nodded. “It sounds ridiculous, but I’m afraid that if I never improve they will send me home.”
“They won’t do that,” said Lanan. The speed of her answer caught Senri off guard. She turned to the older woman and raised an eyebrow. Lanan shifted a bag on her mare’s saddle. “I mean, they might not let you fight if you are not fit for combat, but they find a use for you. We readers are far too few to be wasted. You are a valuable member of the Warriors as long as you still draw breath.”
Senri frowned. “So what will they send me to do if I cannot fulfill my master’s training requirements? As I recall, Valk seemed irked at the thought of a Warrior being anything but.”
“You could work in a forge, I suppose,” said Lanan. “Most of the heat readers here are also our blacksmiths. And don’t listen to Valk. His views on our use are too impractical to carry any weight with the other masters.”
Senri wanted to probe further, but Yahn and Nat joined them, making a very loud entrance into the stables.
Nat grinned. “Here we are again, ready for a grand adventure.”
“Yes, as grand as patrolling the grassland can be,” said Yahn, throwing his pack onto a horse’s saddle. “One would think we would be sent to take care of bandits.” He swung up into his saddle. Senri mounted Stomps as well. “Are we all ready?” asked Yahn, turning in his saddle.
Nat finally settled himself on his horse. He picked up his reins. “Yes.”
“Let’s not waste any more time then.” Yahn flicked his reins and the four of them steered their horses out of the stables and beyond the Warrior’s encampment. Once out on the road, Yahn directed them to a path heading west. “We’ll follow this for a day or so, then break off as the route requires. There should be enough land marks to make our way through and back without much trouble.”
The riding helped Senri. The knot of fear within her slowly untangled itself as they moved along the wide dirt road. The dry land billowed dust up around them as they rode. A hot wind blew at their backs. Senri found herself swallowing and reaching for a water skin. The route followed a small stream. They stopped beside it that the evening to water their horses.
“I have never been in such dry heat,” said Senri, dismounting her horse. Stomps dipped his head into the water and drank.
“Hand me your water skin,” said Lanan. Her face glistened with sweat and grit. Senri tossed the near-empty sack over and Lanan lowered its mouth to the water. Lanan skimmed her fingertips across the surface and a small section of the current flowed backwards. “This method helps remove impurities,” said Lanan. “I’d rather not wait for a kettle to boil. We have a bit of a ride ahead of us.”
“The dust has gotten worse,” said Yahn. He walked over to Lanan and handed her his and Nat’s water skins. She tossed the full one back to Senri and started on the others.
“It was better, I take it?” Senri patted Stomps’s shaking flank.
“This is farmland.” Yahn wiped his brow. “They are supposed to get some rain. Enough to keep the soil healthy.” After filling the water and splashing their faces clean, Yahn instructed them to mount up again. “There’s a residence a few hours away that will lodge us for the night.”
They rode at a slower pace, the horses heaving under the burdening heat. The air stilled. The fields of yellow grass turn into organized rows of yellowing crops. Workers moved between the rows, creating irrigation canals. Water readers like Lanan pulled gentle waves over the soil, into the heart of the field before releasing the water once more. Senri had realized Osota was not as well off as a kingdom since she came to the heartland. They faced many struggles, some of which Senri did not know if they would overcome or not. She could not vanquish drought with a sword.
The sun dipped below the horizon, but Yahn continued on, until the twilight hour had almost faded. They turned off the main road and to a small farmhouse. Yahn dismounted and turned to them. “Wait here.” He walked up to the porch and knocked on the door. Firelight flickered through a window. She squinted against the glare of the last of the sun rays, trying to see if anyone moved around within. A woman came to the door. After Yahn muttered something she embraced him. She waved at the other Warriors.
“Come inside,” she called. As they dismounted, a man exited the house. He clapped Yahn on the shoulder and walked over to the rest of them.
“I’ll stable your horses if you want to head inside,” he said, gesturing at the doorway. They followed Yahn into the cottage, but stopped in the mud room to kick off their boots. Voices chattered in the next room and Senri followed Lanan through the doorway. Yahn stood with the same woman and two children. The kids grabbed at his armor and sword, hanging from his arms. The woman scolded them while she chopped vegetables at a counter, but Yahn laughed.
“Let them play,” he said.
The woman smiled and caught sight of them standing at the doorway. “Oh, come in,” she said. “Sit by the fire.” Senri cautiously selected a chair. Lanan and Nat sat beside her. Senri inhaled and caught the scent of soup. A dark cauldron sat in the flames of the fireplace. She could only guess it held soup. “And you were saying you rode out today?” the woman asked Yahn. He nodded. “Such a large party for a patrol.” She gathered the vegetables and dumped them into the cauldron..
“They’re new recruits,” Yahn replied.
Senri looked around the farmhouse. It was small and warm. Dried herbs hung from the ceiling along with fresh vegetables. The woman gathered bowls and ladled soup into them. She placed a bowl and spoon in front of Senri. She looked down at the broth filled with vegetables and meat. “Thank you...”
“Mara, I’m Mara,” she said, handing soup to the others. She moved to the opposite end of the kitchen, grabbing cups and a pitcher of water from the many cabinets.
Senri tried the soup. It was warm, and very good. She bit into a potato, savoring the soft, crumbly texture. She tasted rabbit mixed in as well. “This is amazing,” she said, taking a sip of the broth. Better than any rabbit stew they had forced down on the ride into the capital.
Yahn refused a bowl that Mara offered. He still let the children hang from his arms. “I’m alright for now. Is Onera around?”
The children began singing, “Onera, Onera, my one and only true! I tell thee my heart beats only for you!”
Chuckling, Yahn shook the little ones from his arms. “You too are far too energetic for so late at night.” He placed his hands on his hips. “I’ll just tell your father to work you both harder.”
“Both of you, off to bed before I get your father to think up night chores,” Mara scolded. The threat sent them running down the hall, their feet thudding like hooves. Mara smiled and pulled her wispy dark hair back. “Such energy,” she sighed.
She turned to Yahn. “Onera will be in soon. You might as well sit while you wait.”
Boots thudded on the porch outside and the door opened. “Horses are stabled,” said the man from earlier. “And they’ve plenty of hay for the night.”
Mara gestured to the crowded table. “Thank you, Jathan. Meet our houseguests.”
Jathan nodded rubbing his thin beard. He eyed the cauldron. “Is there anything left for me?” he asked, eying the cauldron.
Mara set a bowl down in front of Yahn, shoving a spoon into his hand. “There’s plenty left.” She handed him a bowl. Her husband kissed her on the cheek.
“I’m going to turn in,” he said, taking the bowl with him into the back of the house.
Mara put a loaf of bread on the table and Nat reached for it, eyes wide, but Yahn stopped him. “You give too much,” he said, picking the loaf up and handing it to Mara. “We have our own supplies.” Yahn let the bread stay on the table, though he shook his head ever so slightly when Nat went to take half the loaf. Nat caught the glare and shortened his taking to a reasonable portion of the heel. Yahn had yet to touch his own serving. Senri reached the bottom of her bowl too quickly and used a hunk of bread to soak up the remaining broth. Even though she knew seconds were available, she did not want to face Yahn’s disapproving stare.
While they finished their meal, someone else entered from the rear of the house. “Mara?” called out a woman’s voice. “I’m in from the field. The soup smells lovely by the way.” The voice drew closer and Yahn rose in his seat.
“We have visitors, Onera,” warned Mara. She had grabbed another bowl, scrubbed it clean, and filled it with the last of the stew.
“Oh? Anyone I know?”
A young tanned woman with golden-brown hair stepped out from the shadowed hallway, her flaxen skirt brushing over her legs. Mara shoved a bowl into her hands, but the young woman’s eyes widened when she saw Yahn standing in wait for her. She stopped mid-gait.
“Yahn and the new recruits are on a field assignment,” said Mara, disappearing into the kitchen.
“Hello, Onera.” Yahn shifted from one foot to the other. Senri smiled, she could not remember ever seeing him nervous.
“You’re here,” she said. The woman’s face showed no response. “Has something happened?”
“No,” said Yahn. He smiled, but did not take a step forward. “We are lodging for the night while on a patrol.” He gestured toward the worn bench. “Won’t you sit with us?”
Onera finally smiled, one to match Yahn’s and shook her head. “Of course.” She came to the table and placed her bowl down. She embraced Yahn. His cheeks turned red before he returned the hug. “I’ve missed you,” she said, pulling away. As they both sat down, Lanan shot Senri a confused look across the table.
“Onera,” said Lanan.
The woman looked up from her soup. “Yes?”
“I’ve met you before.” Lanan, rested her chin in her hand.
“I’m a Warrior. You may have seen me in training.”
“But why are you in farmer’s garb then?” Nat had finally stopped eating enough to join in on the conversation, though Senri knew he would still be hungry.
“I read plant life, energy,” Onera said. She swung a leg over one side of the bench. “Watch.”
Senri leaned over to the side as Onera press a dirt-smeared hand into one of the crevices in the floor. At first, nothing happened, but a faint hint of green grew out of the earth. The tendril wrapped itself around one of Onera’s fingers, clinging tightly even as she sat up again. Finally, the tendril snapped and withered as she shook her hand free. “Almost all Warriors with this skill have traded in blades for farm work these days, considering the drought and all.” She dusted off her hands and picked up her spoon. “It’s the only way most crops have made it this season. And we need all the grain we can get for trade.”
Senri stared at her empty bowl. She had eaten some of the bread. Guilt clenched her stomach. “It sounds like noble work.” More important than practicing patrol.
Senri, Lanan, and Nat had all finished their meals. Yahn and Onera seemed to be content eating next to each other in silence. Lanan made kissy faces to Senri from across the table and Senri had to suppress a laugh.
Nat stood, shoving his bowl to the middle of the table. “Where are we sleeping?”
“The barn,” said Yahn. “There should be clean hay to throw your blanket over.”
As Nat left, Lanan stood as well. “Let’s make sure he doesn’t eat the rest of our provisions, Senri.” She threw a sideways glance at Yahn and Onera.
Senri’s eyes widened. “Oh yeah, good plan.” She stacked her bowl in with Nat’s and stood. “Let’s go.”
In the barn, Senri fetched her things and found a good spot of hay. Nat already lay not too far from her position, a blanket pulled up around his torso and a half-eaten apple in his hand. He snored. Senri laughed and spread out her own blanket before pulling off her sections of armor. Lanan winked as she set up her own blanket a few haystacks away. “Don’t wait for Yahn.”
“No, I’m sure he has too much planning to take care of,” teased Senri. The two laughed before settling down.
Senri pulled her blanket up to her chest, then crossed her arms and closed her eyes. She found herself wishing she had someone next to her, someone to hold like Yahn. But when she tried to conjure thoughts of Vella, she found her memory dimmed. Instead of the golden hair, she kept seeing brown.
Yahn woke them early the next morning, and they set out to ride as soon as their supplies were packed. They did not say farewell to their hosts. The next couple days of travel almost blended together for Senri. They did not stay over anywhere else, but made camp along the roadside. On the third day of riding they departed from the road and traveled through grassland instead of farms. It looked nearly identical to Senri, only less fences. On the fourth day, scattered pockets of trees broke the grasslands and an expanse of woods appeared on the horizon to the south. It had been so long since she looked at a map she hardly had her bearings anymore. She asked Nat, “Do you think our village lies in that direction?”
“And to the east a little,” he said. He pointed a ways back from where they had been riding.
“How are you sure?”
Nat grinned. “The stone never lies.” He looked over at Yahn, who led them along their pathless trail. “How do you think he knows where to go?”
Senri raised an eyebrow. “How would he know that from stone?”
“It’s a reader thing,” he replied. “There’s just a...sense whenever I touch the earth. A feeling, you know? It’s easier for more experienced readers. Some can even give you the exact distance to a place, but it’s extremely difficult.”
“So, Yahn can sense the exact place we are heading?”
“I doubt exact,” said Nat. “More like a general direction.”
Senri shook her head. “To sense something so far beyond yourself.”
They rode well into the night and stopped in a field clear of trees. “It’s a little open,” said Lanan, looking around as they dismounted.
“We’ll see anything coming at us. Set up a fire.”
They ate and relaxed. Senri mulled over the exercises Graus had instructed her to go through every night. She crossed her arms and stared into the fire instead. The actions seemed meaningless to her. Breathing while staring into the heart of a flame, trying to cup the fire and pull it into herself. All of it ended in frustration. That night, Nat and Lanan sat with her while she concentrated on extinguishing the campfire. She squinted at it, though that never helped, and took a deep breath. The flame flickered and her friends yelled, pointing at the dimming light. Senri shook her head. “That wasn’t me.”
While the others talked, Senri lay down on her blanket and stared at the stars. She fell asleep with Graus’s voice filling her mind.
Yahn roused her before dawn. “Get up,” he said. She felt his boot nudging her shoulder.
Rubbing her eyes, sh
e sat up and stared into the darkness. Their fire was gone but the warmth remained. Yahn must have smothered it. “Something wrong?” Senri asked.
“There’s an encampment not far from here. I don’t have a good feeling about it.”
Nat yawned and scratched his head. “So what are we going to do about it?”
“We need to get in close and take whatever information we get back to the palace,” said Yahn. He helped Lanan to her feet. “There’s too many to make contact. We leave the horses here and stay hidden.”
Senri’s fingers slipped as she grabbed her sword and attempted to buckle it to her belt. As she pulled the last notch into place, Yahn urged them on, walking slowly through the tall grass. They did not have to travel far. Even though the encampment had settled in a cluster of trees, the flicker of firelight still glowed. Yahn led them down to the south end where patches of forest trickled into the grassland. They moved from pale patches of grass to dark trees. Senri’s heart beat harder as they moved closer to the encampment. Figures shifted within the trees. One walked close to the camp perimeter, a man in studded dark armor. His sword hung in a sheath from his hip, though he kept a hand close to it.
“He seems jumpy,” muttered Senri. The man continued on and they moved a bit closer, stepping into the bushes. The shrubs were thin with few leaves. They made ideal concealment. The four Warriors moved close enough to observe the camp movements. Yahn made them stop and crouch down.
“Here is good enough,” he said. They lay a good stretch from the camp. “If we are sighted, we run for the horses.” Yahn looked at each of them in turn before looking over at the encampment.
“They look like bandits,” whispered Lanan.
“But their armor matches,” said Senri, spying a similar outfit on another patrolman. “Mercenaries?”
“If they were, it would be for someone off the western shore,” said Yahn. “We are too far from any other kingdoms or cities.”
“What if they’re our own?” asked Lanan.
Nat craned his neck and shifted his position. “There’s something over there.” He pointed to the far entrance of the camp. Senri followed his gaze.
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