The tidal wave hit me as I rode past a squat and lonely pine. Everything familiar was gone, and even the people I loved were permanently changed. Too much change, too much fear, and the water flowed over my aching body and left me weeping into Saragon's black mane.
Hooves clopped against the damp ground as Iefyr and Nador flanked me. Iefyr reached over and touched my shoulder.
“Whatever you're feeling is perfectly valid,” he said.
I slowly straightened my back and looked at him. “No one has ever said that to me before.”
“Really? They should have.” Iefyr's face revealed calm concern. He'd been thrashed beneath the waves before, I could tell. I couldn't imagine him not fighting anxiety after losing nearly his entire family.
“Yeah. It's always 'Tessen, calm down and breathe. You're worried about nothing', or 'Tessen, you're overreacting', or 'Grow up. Other people have it worse'. My family never says that last one, but I've heard the first two plenty of times even from them.” My face was wet with tears and the threat of a spasm prickled between my shoulders.
“It's not their right to decide what is either frightening or important to you. You don't need to justify your anxiety to anyone.” Iefyr's voice was gruff, but kind and soothing. The tightness in my back released just a little with each word.
“Did Shan tell you about my anxiety issues?” I asked.
“No, Ragan told us,” Nador said. She smiled reassuringly as I glanced at her. “He said you hide behind Shan and pretend you're unimportant, and then you're afraid to talk to anyone when the weight of your world begins to crush you. He told us this morning we needed to watch you today because when you were younger, your silence was only a gray wall hiding a maelstrom.”
“Sometimes I forget how well he used to know me. Probably just means I'm too old for this shit,” I said.
Iefyr laughed between clenched teeth. “You're not. Trust me, you're not. I've been dealing with it myself for a good fourteen years now.”
“Since your family died?”
“Yes. Can't count how many times I was told to 'move on'. There are some things you can't forget or move on from and it's no one else's right to say how you should feel after something horrible happens to you. You've lost people you love and you've seen things no one should ever have to see, so it's no surprise you've got an anxious mind, especially given recent events.”
“Does it ever get easier to deal with?” I asked, a hollow swell rising in my gut.
“I want to say yes, but I have no cause to lie to you. I don't think it ever fully retreats with people like us, but we do figure out our own ways of escaping from beneath each weight as it falls. We learn how to find things, both little and big, that make us happy and help us get through the days.”
“I don't know what makes me happy,” I admitted. The others had slowed ahead of us. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, so I assumed they'd found a suitable place to camp for the night. I swallowed a lump in my throat and tried to ignore the hot sting of tears on my windburned cheeks.
Iefyr's heavy hand was on my shoulder again. “Allow yourself time and patience and you'll figure it out. Start with the small things. Find pleasure in a sunrise or a flower or a familiar melody. Don't let the silence eat you alive when your mind tries to tell you your voice isn't worth hearing. Embrace beauty and friendship as you find it, and allow it to be your armor. You're worth fighting for, Tessen, and I hope you learn to see that.”
We joined the other four around the kindling campfire. One by one, my six companions welcomed me into an embrace. They knew, all of them knew. I was a reed in a windstorm and my nerves could bend, but I would not break.
I was asleep within minutes of laying my head beneath a beneath a spectacular sky full of stars. Little things. Focus on the beauty of little things first, and the rest will follow.
Chapter 21
Thunder rolled across the steppe, but I opened my eyes to a clear blue sky. The noise grew louder as the ground trembled beneath me.
“Up. Now.” Ragan grabbed my hand and yanked me to my feet, then reached for Shan and Marita. “Everyone up. On your horses and move. Now.”
Several antelope dashed by as we hastily loaded the few things we'd taken out back onto the horses. All seven horses huffed and stomped the ground. I mounted Saragon as more antelope passed us.
“Antelope stampede?” I asked as I struggled to secure nervous Serida and find my bearings.
“No.” Ragan nodded at the dark fog rolling toward us from the western horizon. “Bison.”
“What do we do?” Shan asked.
“Hold on and go for a wild damned ride. Fall off your horse and you're dead.”
Our seven agitated horses joined the scores of bleating antelope. We crouched low over their necks as they accelerated to gallops. Deafening thunder enveloped us like a crashing wave. The bison had arrived, thousands of them, accompanied by clusters of caribou and muskox, and we were caught in the gale of their storm.
Don't think, don't move, just hold on, I repeated to myself as my heart tried to burst through my ribs and my grip threatened to loosen.
The stampeding mass groaned and shifted southward. The horses didn't falter as they matched the change in direction. I could only see two of them in my limited field of vision—Shan's dapple gray mare and Nador's chestnut gelding, who ran so close to my horse that I could reach over and touch his rider.
And I needed to. The bison shifted again and Nador's horse stumbled. I leaned to the side and grabbed her from the falling horse. She was nearly too heavy for me to pull off the maneuver, but within a second she was sprawled over my thighs and struggling to right herself. The gelding screamed as the stampede trampled him.
“Marnalo,” Nador whispered. She secured her position on my saddle before leaning back to brace herself against my chest. “Damn it, Tessen. That was gutsy.”
“That was instinct. Hold on,” I said. I tightened my grip on the reins and refused to acknowledge the pain caused by Nador's rucksack jamming into my ribs.
“Never doubt that instinct, kid.”
“Sorry about Marnalo.”
Nador's hand found mine on the reins. Her fingernails engraved crescent moons beneath my knuckles. “Can't think about that now. Don't let go. For the love of light, don't let go.”
The bison shifted again. Low grunts punctuated the thundering hooves and ghastly groans. A new shape entered my peripheral vision. At the outer edge of the stampede, a sloped and bristly back followed a boxy snout and a pair of curved tusks. It was a boar, much larger than any boar I'd ever seen, and a rider sat upon its shoulders. The rider grimaced and glared at me as I made contact with her fiery eyes. Foxfae. Triangular ears rose above her cinnamon-colored hair and her bushy, white-tipped tail snapped at the turbulent air. She glanced over her shoulder and loosed four staccato whistles. Three more boars sprinted forward to fall in behind her.
“What do those pointy-faced bastards want?” Nador groaned.
“Don't care,” I said.
The bison mass split down the middle. Half made a quick turn to the south while the other half continued east. My horse whinnied as she was pressed into the eastern split. I wasn't sure where the other five horses were. I thought of the fate of Nador's gelding and dread threatened to claim me. What if the others had fallen and taken their riders with them? I couldn't think about it right now. Survive, only survive.
“Just a little longer, Tessen. They're dispersing,” Rose called from somewhere behind me. I couldn't turn around to respond to her without losing my precarious balance.
Nador's silver ponytail whipped my face and I closed my eyes. The rhythm of the full gallop was nauseating and unsustainable. Come on, horse, keep going. My mind fell into disarray and I struggled to remember the buckskin mare's name. Saragon. Mom had named her Saragon. Come on, Saragon, don't fall.
And she didn't. My steady mare proved the endurance of orc-bred horses to be superb. Saragon continued to match the speed and direc
tion shifts of the bison until the stampede dwindled to a thick mass of confused and exhausted beasts.
“It's okay, it's okay, we made it.” Nador jammed her palm into my thigh. “Get off me.”
I sat fully upright and led Saragon in a circle. Rose was with us. She sighed with relief once she saw Nador's slight form sitting in front of me.
“Thought I saw you grab her, but didn't know for sure,” Rose said, breathless. She spun a tight loop and her eyes darted across the scattered bison before landing on a heaving group of caribou. “Iefyr's right over there, riding toward us. Marita's a little ahead. I can't see Ragan or Shan. Come on, where are you?”
The boar riders were distant, but closing. They came from all directions, at least three dozen of them.
“What do we do?” I asked. I continued to scan the agitated herd. Shan, where are you?
Worry pinched Rose's face. “Foxfae boar riders. Can't outrun them, even on a Jade thoroughbred. We need to . . . we need to wait on drawing weapons. They might not attack us outright if they don't see us as hostile. Honesty is paramount to them. Remember that.” She pulled up on her horse's reins and her gravelly voice became strident. “Do you see my son? I can't find him.”
“Maybe he was in the other split. Maybe my brother was with him,” I said. I kept turning Saragon, one circle after another. No Shan, no Ragan, and the boar riders were almost to us.
Iefyr reached us, quickly followed by Marita. Their brown faces were ruddy and they struggled to regulate their breaths.
Marita put her hand to her mouth as she saw Nador. “Oh, sweetie . . . what happened to Marnalo?”
“He fell. Tessen grabbed me,” Nador replied. She exchanged apprehensive smiles with Iefyr.
“Good. Not for Marnalo, but for you.” Marita twisted her spine and squinted at the bison and approaching boar riders. “Where are Shan and Ragan?”
It was too late to answer. The boar riders surrounded us and any view beyond them was lost to the collective bulk of the beasts.
“Dismount and identify yourselves. Immediately,” yelled a particularly large Foxfae woman from her seat atop a dingy white boar. She lowered her fur hood to reveal a wild shock of red hair.
We complied and dropped onto the rain-soaked ground. Mud squished around the soles of my boots as I helped Nador off Saragon.
Rose bowed her head and held her hands out to her sides, revealing that she held no weapons. The rest of us followed her lead and assumed what we hoped were nonthreatening postures. She tilted her head slightly upward and said, “I am Rosalia Dannis. My companions are Tessen Lim, Iefyr Sealash, Marita Wingstorm, and Nador Underwood. We were separated from our other two companions during the stampede. They are Ragan Vale and Shannon Goldtree. We hail from the Jade Realm. We have found ourselves in this realm unintentionally and we are trying to reach the Mala Basin so we can resupply and resume our intended journey.”
Half of the Foxfae dismounted, while the others kept their loaded crossbows fixed on us. The boars grunted and scuffed the ground.
The leader stepped forward. She drew a greatsword with an elaborate gold hilt from a sheath on her back and swung it in an arc in front of her. Her angular face clenched into a sneer. “Faeline on the steppes. This is in violation of the territorial agreements made inviolable by our people and forged into law by King Mirabreln.”
Rose kept her hands raised and her head bowed. “My father took me away from the Faelands nearly forty years ago. I am not familiar with any treaties. I am sorry. We are sorry. Someone brought us to this place against our will and we are only trying to go home.”
“Jade is south. You are north.” The Foxfae growled and raised her sword so its point was only a handspan from Rose's abdomen. She flicked her wrists and the greatsword threatened Nador's throat. “Itty bitty thing, aren't you? You would make a nice snack for my boar.” She cocked her head toward the nearest mounted rider and barked, “Find the other two. Bring them to me.”
“Certainly, Lady Janella,” the rider said. He nodded toward two other riders, who then followed him out of the circle.
Janella planted her sword point in the ground and clasped her hands together. “Now, while we're waiting to find out if the other trespassers have been trampled to death, we need to discuss what we're going to do with these poor lost people.”
“Kill the violators,” said the archer behind her.
Janella forced her pinched lips into a smile and paced around us. The ratty bottom of her hide and fur cloak dragged through the mud. “No, outright execution lacks mercy. However, they are violating the agreement, so we can't simply turn them loose. What is my other option, Narello?”
A hulking, marble-haired Foxfae stepped forward and bared his pointed canines. “Honor fight, Lady Janella.”
“Honor fight.” Janella gave a slight dip of her chin and grinned.
“Oh, shit,” Rose muttered. I was afraid to find out what the phrase meant. Behind us, our horses nickered and stomped at the mud.
“Do you know the meaning of honor fight, Rosalia Dannis of the Faeline?” Janella asked. Her russet eyes twinkled as she tilted her head toward the cloudless sky. She planted her heel, pulled her sword from the ground, and spun toward Rose. “Answer me, woman!”
“I do,” Rose said. Her raised fingers trembled. “An honor fight is a melee battle between two fighters chosen to represent opposing factions, with the winner determining the fate of both sides. It is . . . it is a fight to the death.”
“Correct,” Janella said with a nod. “Someone will die here today, and it will be one of you. My choice, always my choice when it is my territory invaded.” She studied each of our faces in turn as the circle broke to allow in two horses and three boars. Shan and Ragan were alive. For now.
Janella clapped her hands together and her ears twitched. “Oh, good you found them. Ragan Vale and Shannon Goldtree, I assume. Dismount and join the rest of this fodder.”
Ragan stood next to Rose and Shan slipped between Marita and me. The Foxfae on the ground pressed closer to us.
Janella cleared her throat and narrowed her eyes. “Poor company you keep, Rosalia Dannis. Half-breeds, human and halfling children . . . and this.” She directed her sword toward Ragan, then leaned forward and spat on his shoulder. “Half-Fae. Abomination. This thing should have been smothered at birth.”
“I'm quite fond of my son,” Rosalia said, grabbing Ragan's hand.
“Your son?” Janella's eyes widened, then narrowed as she sneered. “Stupid woman. There are many in the Mala Basin who will murder it on site if you dare take it there. Have you told it that? Have you told it that its existence is obscene, is a crime?” She stepped away from Ragan and resumed pacing. “Now, let me see. Who shall I choose to participate in the honor fight?”
“What are the rewards, My Lady?” the Foxfae called Narello asked.
“Ah, yes. I nearly forgot. Thank you, Narello. If your fighter wins, the lot of you may resume your journey unhindered. When my fighter wins, your fighter will be dead and we will take the rest of you captive. You may be executed, maybe not. That will be my father's decision to make.” The corner of her mouth twitched as she considered each of us. “What a difficult decision I must make.”
“Abomination!” shouted a rider.
“Half-elf!” yelled another. “The big one, not the little one.”
Janella shook her head and clicked her tongue against her pointed teeth. “Oh, no, no, no. The elf-bloods look skilled. Might and magic, all three of them. They might injure my fighter before they're put down. I'd rather get this over with quickly so we can take our kills and go home before the flies find us.” She grabbed my forearm and yanked me away from Shan. “You. Young, untested, and a little soft around the edges. You are going to fight for the lives of your friends.”
Oh shit, not good. Mom and Ragan had spent years training me, but one-on-one gladiatorial combat was different from sparring, different from slicing the head off an elderly Sibyl, even different
from dispatching ducal guards with nothing but cutlery and surging adrenaline.
“Tessen, no!” Shan cried. He reached for my hand, but Janella had already pulled me out of reach.
“My choice is final,” Janella said. She raised her arm and pointed into the circle. “Morenno, as always, you are my fighter, my champion.”
The Foxfae cheered and held their weapons to the sky. Several approached my companions and forced them to the edge of the circle. The horses were led out of harm's way. I suspected they'd be eaten if I lost. I wouldn't know. If I lost, I'd be dead.
“No, no, I'll do it! Let me do it!” Shan screamed.
“Lady Janella, I will fight,” Ragan yelled.
Janella took three steps toward my companions and triumphantly raised her greatsword over her head. “Oh, poor little half-breeds. You missed the part where I said this is my choice, and I do not change my mind. This is a fight of honor, something elves and abominations are incapable of possessing. Your only choice for the moment is to watch your friend die.”
“No!” Shan protested, but I knew it was no use. This fight was mine. I was already falling into impassiveness, a combat technique Mom had taught me. Emotion dampens skill in battle, and ignoring it subdues the fight or flee or freeze instinct that gets people killed. Fear could not overtake me or I'd have no chance of survival.
I held my hand up, wrist bent and palm facing him. “No, Shan. Keep going.”
“Tessen...”
The hairs on the backs of my arms bristled as I turned to face Janella. I dropped my jacket on the grass and kicked it to the side. “Let's get this over with.”
“Good human,” Janella said with a sneer. She spun her greatsword over her head before planting it in the ground at the center of the circle. She arched her back and hollered, “Morenno! Come forward!”
The Foxfae champion emerged from a crowd that chanted his name. He was at least a half-yard taller than me and easily twice my weight. Scars crisscrossed the right side of his face and his tail was little more than a stub. One of the riders handed him a greatsword nearly as tall as me.
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