The Child Guard

by Lorcan Montgomery

  Kane passed the watch in comfortable quiet with Fiorella. For some reason he did not feel as awkward around her as around the equally silent Anfisa, and he was quite content as he bade her goodnight and went to wake Eder. He reached the hold unimpeded and breathed a prayer of thanks.

  Terrell was in a foul mood the next day, for no reason Kane could discern. He tried asking about it, discreetly, when the two of them were alone, but whatever had set Terrell to sulking was not going to be easily divulged, and after a growled threat of violence, Kane left off trying.

  Whatever had happened, Kane had a fair idea it was something to do with Helene, who seemed to have caught a fit of the giggles overnight. Every time she passed Terrell a chuckle would escape her lips, and his ears and the back of his neck would turn a bright, angry red.

  Before they turned in for the night, Kane motioned Terrell aside, and rather than wasting his breath asking a final time what had happened, opted for giving Terrell some advice.

  “I don’t know what happened with you and that ridiculous girl,” he said, in a low voice. “But whatever it was, it’s over and done, you understand? We’ve got two more days left on this barge and by the gods I will throw you overboard if you do anything to upset our arrangement with Gunnar.”

  “She laughed at me,” Terrell said, through gritted teeth.

  Kane rolled his eyes. “So did half the girls back in the Citadel. That’s what girls seem to do. Come on, Terrell, she’s just a silly lass who’s trying to get on your nerves, you used to laugh back when they did that to Eder.”

  “That was different.”

  “Look, just let her giggle, if she wants to be silly. We’re out of here the day after tomorrow anyway, you won’t have to see her ever again.”

  “All right,” Terrell sighed. Leaving Eder abovedecks, they joined the rest of the group in traipsing down to the hold.

  After an uneventful night, Terrell seemed to be feeling more like himself, although a brief shadow crossed over his face every time Helene passed by. Kane spent the day watching the landscape around them change, as the lake narrowed into a river. The forest to the north-west dwindled to nothing, leaving flat, featureless fields as far as the eye could see. The air grew even hotter, even as the season was slowly shifting into autumn they were far enough to the south to render the change moot. As the sun set, flies buzzed over the surface of the river, and the fish lazily rose to the surface to feed on them.

  The watch that night was a mere formality, Gunnar had told Kane as much at the beginning of the evening. Once away from the woods there was little in the way of bandit activity, as the large flat plains offered no cover in which to hide. The sailor thanked Kane heartily for his service, and Kane was embarrassed by his praise. It wasn’t as if they’d had to face any enemies, after all.

  Later that night, he left Anfisa at the tiller in silence, she having decided she had spoken quite enough to him the other day. He woke Eder, as usual, and fell gratefully into his hammock, relieved they would soon be back to a marching pace. The barge had been a wonderful rest, but Kane hated to feel idle, and had begun to miss the feel of the miles being eaten beneath his feet. The night was a restless one, having not been able to work off his energy he was wide awake for longer than he anticipated, and kept waking periodically as the boat creaked and lumbered along.

  He awoke at one point to see Terrell slip quietly from his hammock, his feet making no noise on the boards. When Terrell became aware Kane was watching him, he froze briefly, then gave a crooked smile.

  “Can’t sleep, might as well go and get Eder now rather than fall out of this damn bag again,” he whispered to Kane, who nodded indulgently and rolled over.

  As he drifted off to sleep, the rolling waves were disturbed by odd sounds, the creaking of a door, a thud as though something had fallen over, and crying from somewhere outside, like a child or maybe a fox on the riverbank. He half-rose from his hammock after the thud, but before he could calculate how to get out without injury, the noises ceased, and he settled down to sleep with no further hindrance.

  The next morning, they moored at the Tirim Bridge, which was far grander than the one they had crossed into Dathanna. Ornate, beautiful statues adorned its railings, and on both sides there had arisen a thriving little town, sustained by barges from the lake and caravans from Auris and Carmia.

  Fiorella embraced them each briefly in farewell, as though they were her own children. Gunnar shook their hands enthusiastically, and even Zita emerged from behind her father to give Cahaya a slightly wilted flower she had picked from the riverbank. Anfisa sat at the stern, by the tiller, even though there was no need to steer, and she acknowledged their passing only after encouragement from her father, upon which she gave a half-hearted wave. Helene, who had only just emerged from belowdecks, stood at the prow, leaning on the railings, and she waved, too, dismissively.

  Terrell smiled up at her, and from the angle Kane was looking at, it seemed wolfish. Helene did not return his smile, nor did she giggle, she simply blinked her dark eyes, revealing shadows beneath them that had not been there the night before, and watched him carefully until the party rounded a bend and disappeared from view.

  “I see Helene stopped her silliness, then,” Kane said, once they were fully away and on the road.

  “Took her long enough,” Terrell said, casually. “But then, I suppose you were right, that is what girls do.”

  The oven-hot air made for hard going, as they’d gotten used to the coolness of the river spray during the barge ride. Kane’s clothes felt restrictive and tight, and as he peeled them away from his body to get some cool air against his skin he noticed they were less roomy than they had been at the start of their journey.

  “I think my clothes have shrunk,” he said to Eder, indicating the taut fabric across his chest.

  “They haven’t,” Sampson interjected from nearby. “You’ve grown. Try not to draw attention to it.”

  “But I only just got this uniform,” Kane protested.

  “Yes, and unfortunately thanks to that Sidhe-witch’s treachery you are expanding at a far more rapid pace than would be expected of a Child Guard. You’ve outgrown in months what should have lasted years,” Sampson replied, sounding more disappointed than anything else. “I repeat, do not draw attention to it and all will be well. I will speak to the quartermaster of the Aurian garrison personally, and arrangements will be made.”

  “You’re going to tell him about what happened?”

  “In a fashion,” Sampson said, hesitantly.

  “You’re going to lie to him,” Terrell cut in, with something of a sly grin forming on his face.

  “Not as such. It is true, in order for us to continue as we are, without excommunication or expulsion from both of our orders, it may be… prudent for certain facts to be kept out of general knowledge.”

  “I thought lying was a sin,” Terrell continued to needle at Sampson.

  “And that is why I shall take the stain on my soul to preserve yours, tarnished as they may be,” Sampson replied in a bitter tone. “We shall speak no more on this matter.”

  As the day wore on and the shadows grew longer, the stifling heat retreated somewhat, although a close, humid mugginess hung in the air as they set up camp. They ate as well as they were able; even Kane and Terrell’s recently enormous appetites were tempered by the warmth around them.

  Later that night, when the air had cooled to bearable, if not pleasant temperature, Kane rested lazily by the fire, toying with the charm he had bought in Dathanna, the token of the goose which was supposed to bring a loved one home. He had discarded his surcoat and undershirt as soon as everyone else had retired, and was enjoying the play of cool air over his skin, a welcome relief after the sweaty, sticky march. He could see for miles across the flat plains, and coupled with the knowledge they were safely away from the Borderlands, he allowed himself to close his eyes briefly, enjoying the sound of crickets in the grass.

  “Mind some company?”
Eder’s voice sounded from closer than he expected, and he jolted upright.

  “Not at all,” he said, trying to cover his surprise with nonchalance.

  “It’s too hot to sleep,” Eder said, sitting down beside him. “At least, it is in the tent. You don’t seem to be having too much trouble out here.”

  “I wasn’t sleeping,” Kane replied, quickly. “Besides, I’d like to see anyone sneak up on me from outside the camp. You could roll a marble along this road and it wouldn’t stop for days.”

  “I managed to sneak up on you, didn’t I?”

  “You’re inside the camp.”

  “A technicality,” Eder said, with a small smile, but didn’t press the point further. He lifted his damp curls away from the nape of his neck, allowing the night breeze to reach his skin. He was still wearing his long-sleeved undershirt, fully covering him to the wrist.

  “Perhaps that’s why you’re so warm, you can take that off if you like,” Kane gestured to the garment.

  Eder hesitated for a long moment, then conceded only slightly by rolling his sleeves up. “I’d rather stay dressed, I’m not some kind of barbarian like you.”

  “Suit yourself, it’s a lovely breeze,” Kane leaned back on his elbows. Eder, by contrast, hugged his knees to his chest, and rested his cheek atop them, his eyes on Kane.

  “Is that the thing you bought in Dathanna?” he asked, eventually.

  “It is,” Kane said. “Shall I put it away, so as not to offend your sensibilities?”

  “May I?” Eder held out his hand. Kane shrugged and handed the thing over, and Eder turned it between his slender fingers for a while, studying its detail.

  Kane felt something build inside him, as though he were standing at the edge of a cliff preparing to dive. He watched the charm turn over and over in Eder’s hands, feeling the air hang heavy with all the things he hadn’t yet dared to voice, and something in him gave way.

  “You can keep it, if you like,” he said, eventually.

  “I couldn’t possibly,” Eder said, although the words didn’t carry the same force as usual, and he was still focused on the carved charm.

  “I bought it for you anyway.”

  “How appropriate,” Eder’s smile was wry. “A silly goose for a silly goose.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Kane said, hastily.

  “I’m sure it isn’t.”

  “No, really, it’s not.”

  Eder sighed, and allowed the token to dangle from its cord, swinging beneath his hand like a pendulum. “The thing is, Kane, I’m not sure I really want to know what it is. Do I?”

  “It’s… it’s for loyalty,” Kane said, figuring that wasn’t too far from the truth. “Like you said, we look after each other. That’s what a squad does.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?” Eder swung the pendant again, and caught it in his hand, with a decisive motion. “You know, I think I will keep this, if you’re still offering it. I could do with some sort of stability to hang onto. Would you mind?”

  Kane shuffled over to him, awkwardly, and took the necklace from him. He looped it around Eder’s neck, his breath catching slightly as he became aware of just how close they were. He brushed Eder’s hair from the back of his neck, and saw an answering shudder run down his friend’s spine, before Eder moved the curls out of the way to let Kane tie a clean knot.

  It took several tries, as Kane’s fingers didn’t quite feel like they were operating according to his instruction any more. He eventually tied a clumsy, messy knot that would have to be cut to remove, and sat back on his heels. Eder remained where he was, hunched over, his head in his hands.

  “Sophia was right,” he said, quietly. “There’s so much uncertainty in me, I feel like the ground keeps shifting and I can’t keep my balance.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you remember… what I told you about… about how I got this?” Eder flicked a hand in the direction of his brand.

  “I do,” Kane said. He hadn’t quite been able to rid himself of the image of the young, innocent Eder being dragged through the mahogany doors of the Hall of Correction, and it still made him sick to the pit of his stomach.

  “What if I said I felt like that again?” Eder’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “Like you were a girl?”

  Eder nodded, his shoulders trembling ever so slightly. Kane reached out, with a leaden hand, and laid it on Eder’s shoulder. The trembling abruptly ceased.

  “I don’t think it ever really stopped,” Eder said, and Kane could hear his voice thick with tears. “I was corrected so thoroughly but it didn’t take, and I’m going to end up back in the Halls of Correction again, only this time I’m not going to come out.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Kane said, firmly, squeezing Eder’s shoulder to stop himself from gathering his friend up into his arms and holding him so tightly they would both forget to breathe.

  “How can it not? I question the gods with every thought in my head, with every feeling in my heart. I don’t mean to, but I can’t help it. I feel… I know I’m one thing and they say I’m another, one of us must be wrong. And I know what happens to those who are wrong.”

  “You are not going to end up in the Halls of Correction,” Kane said, more firmly than he meant to. Eder looked up at him, face streaked with tears. “It won’t happen. I won’t let it happen.”

  His voice softened, and he let go of Eder’s shoulder, his hand falling limp by his side. “We look after each other, Eder. I’d be doing a poor job of that if I let you go through those doors again.”

  “But what else can you do?” Eder said, speaking almost to himself, his voice muffled by his knees.

  Kane felt another one of those cliff-edge silences stretching out before him, and this time barely waited before taking the plunge. After all they’d been through in the Borderlands, here in the relative safety of the Aurian plain he felt he had nothing left to lose.

  “You don’t have to go back,” he said.

  Eder’s head whipped round so sharply Kane feared he’d hurt himself. “What?”

  “We don’t have to go back,” Kane corrected himself.

  “But… you… the Dawn Reapers, you’ve always wanted…”

  “That’s… not important anymore,” Kane said, expecting to feel it for a lie in the pit of his belly. Nothing came, and the lack of doubt was strange. “I want to see you safe and happy, and that’s not going to happen in the Citadel.”

  Of all the certainties he’d ever had in his life, this one alone felt diamond-hard, unbreakable. All the others had slowly sloughed away in the Borderlands. He felt like he’d shed his skin.

  “You’ve gone mad,” Eder said, wiping his eyes with the corner of his sleeve. “The heat’s finally got to you.”

  “Look at me,” Kane gestured to his bare torso, and was mildly gratified to see Eder did look. “Do I look like the heat is bothering me?”

  Eder sighed, and uncurled ever so slightly from his defensive position. “I still think you’ve gone a little bit mad,” he said. “But then, you always were. You chose to be friends with a heretic like me, after all.”

  “And I’ve never regretted it,” Kane said, earnestly. Eder met his eyes, but looked away after only a brief moment. “Boy or girl, heretic or saint, I’ll always be glad I met you.”

  Eder smiled, then, a small smile but a genuine one, and this time held eye contact for more than a split second. Kane felt himself falling forward, an irresistible pull, and he saw Eder wrestling with a similar gravity. Just before whatever was building between them came down like a crashing wave, Kane felt Eder’s hand on the centre of his chest, palm flat, a clear indication to stay back.

  “Please,” Eder said, in a tiny voice. “Don’t make the ground any shakier for me. Not now.”

  With great effort, Kane resisted the magnetic force drawing him towards Eder, and sat back. Eder’s palm remained on his chest for a long moment, until Kane took it in both of his own and
drew it away from him, laying it gently down on Eder’s knee, patting it once and then withdrawing.

  Eder seemed to be chewing on a thought, and Kane waited patiently, allowing him to decide of his own accord to voice it.

  “Have you always had hair like that, on your body?” Eder asked, and Kane fought back laughter at the banality of the long-awaited sentence.

  “I don’t think so,” Kane looked down at himself, at the scattering of dark hair dusting the centre of his chest. “Must be new.”

  “I hope I don’t get that, it looks itchy.”

  They chatted away about nothing much for a few more hours until Eder began to drowse. Kane roused Terrell for the second watch, then took his sleepy friend back to their shared tent, where Eder fell asleep immediately. Kane lay awake for a while longer, tracing Eder’s features from memory in the darkness, a wild, mad hope blooming within him. Eder had not actually said no to the idea of leaving the Citadel, and until he did, there was a possibility there, something gleaming on the horizon, a promise of a tomorrow very different from today. It excited and terrified him at the same time.

  18. Names

  “Under the moon, all things are silvered.”

  Sidhe Charm

  The next day they set off early in the morning to beat the worst of the heat. Davena had wrapped Cahaya’s wimple in the style the women of Dathanna had adopted, leaving more of her throat exposed to the breeze whilst still keeping the sun off her head. The Immaculata herself had donned a similar white scarf to cover her fair hair, which had been bleached white on their journey. Still, as the sun rose overhead, Davena seemed to wilt more and more in the heat, until she stumbled and fell on the dusty road.

  Cahaya heard the commotion, and upon discovering it was Davena who was in distress, she immediately offered her seat upon the pony to the exhausted Immaculata. After a few protests, Davena was seated carefully in the saddle by Eder, and Cahaya walked alongside Terrell, who took her firmly by the arm and led her along.