Chapter 26
Chapter
Twenty-Six
“No,” Rylan seethes, and my heart screams in my chest as he jumps off his horse's back. “I can assure you, she is not.”
“We don’t need you.” The man with the stronger grip on his weapon steps forward. “Only her.”
“Such a shame.” Rylan tips his head as he pulls a sharp dagger from a holster hidden under his shirt. “You won’t be getting either of us.”
I sit helpless on Merlin’s back, my mind racing with what to do. I could run, leave Rylan to deal with the men, but my conscience holds me at bay. I could try to help, but something in me says I’ll only make things worse.
The other man meets my eyes, and I don’t see malice or anger. I see pain. “Please,” he begs.
“Don’t speak to her,” Rylan spits, putting himself between the men and me. My heart bangs against my ribcage.
The man ignores him. “We need your help.”
It’s as if everything stops—my racing heart, my jumbled thoughts, Rylan’s slow steps forward. All of it.
“It’s my wife.” He drops his sword, the sound bouncing down the path. “Please, I don't know how to help her.”
Rylan looks back at me at the wobble in the man’s voice. I can see it so clearly—his uncertainty. He doesn’t trust them. I’m not certain how much I do either, but that wobble feels true, and I don't know if I can walk away from it.
“What is she suffering from?” I ask. Rylan lowers his weapon, but he doesn’t tuck it away.
“Burns,” he says. “The shields caught her while she was close to the border.”
“Of Tarragon?” Rylan asks.
The man shakes his head. “Of Lenthara.”
“And they burned her?” I ask.
“She was thieving,” the other man speaks up. It’s now that I notice how much younger he looks than the other man.
The first man cuts him a hurt glare. “She was trying to help us, boy. Rein in your disrespect.” The younger man scoffs, shaking his head before looking away.
Rylan looks over his shoulder at me once more, and I see the softening of his gaze. But he’s still wary, and these men aren’t going to let us pass. So our options lie ahead of us—kill them or help them. I, for one, am not in the business of killing people.
“Take us to her,” I say.
Rylan spins. “Everleigh.”
I purse my lips. “You want to walk away?” When he doesn’t answer, I square my shoulders. “I won’t. Take me to her,” I repeat. “Please.”
We ride for what feels like an hour, weaving between trees as we travel deeper and deeper into the forest. I can no longer tell where the marked path lies, only that we’ve been circling endlessly behind the two men walking ahead of us.
But then they stop. “You need to leave the horses here.”
Rylan shoots me a wary glance. He’s been quiet the entire way here. I know he thinks it’s not safe, that we might be walking into some kind of trap, but if there’s a small chance I can help someone, then I’ll gladly walk into the unknown.
We slide off our horses' backs before collecting our belongings. I hang my satchel over my shoulder and carry the medicine box at my side, but Rylan takes it from me. “I can carry it,” he says.
“As can I,” I shoot back.
“You need both hands for that dagger of yours, remember?” he murmurs. I shake my head.
“This way,” the older man says. The younger one just pins us with a suspicious glare as he waits for us to follow the man I suspect could be his father.
We walk farther than I expected to, and I find myself grateful Rylan is carrying the wooden box.
These men were far away from home when they ambushed us.
And why exactly do they think I am a healer?
The medicine box couldn’t have given it away—it could contain any number of things that are not medicine related.
“How long were you following us?” I ask over my shoulder as I follow Rylan through the dense forest.
The younger man’s next step is delayed behind me, but he recovers soon enough. “We found your camp down by the river close to dawn.”
My eyebrows spring up. He didn’t even attempt to lie. “You followed us all the way out here before you ambushed us? Why not do it then?”
Rylan tilts his head ever so slightly, a subtle signal that he’s listening.
“We didn’t know if you were a threat or not,” the young man says simply. “We were waiting for you to pass through, but then we heard this guy talking about how you could heal anything.” He nods to where Rylan walks in front of us, his head now firmly facing forward.
The older man in front stops, letting his eyes roam over us as if assuring himself of his choice once more before he lifts a large gathering of vines, revealing an opening to a dark cave. “This way.”
Rylan’s spine stiffens, his mistrust etched in the set of his shoulders. “Lead the way.” The older man nods, his eyes resigned as he ducks his head and disappears into the dark.
“I hate caves,” I mutter.
Rylan meets my gaze before holding out his hand. “We can turn back at any time. No explanation needed.”
I shake my head, steeling myself. “We can’t turn back now.” I take his hand, my grip somewhat tighter than I intended.
He nods tersely before leading me through the cave, but the man ahead of us is nowhere to be seen—the darkness has swallowed him whole.
It reminds me of the way Silas and Finnick used to disappear into the caves when we were young, and it reminds me exactly why I hate caves.
Just when I think it can’t get any darker, a warm light sparks on the cave wall, reminiscent of a firefly, and then it’s gone. But in that second of light, I could see the shadow of the older man, his hunched form still moving forwards ahead of us.
Rylan adjusts his grip on my hand, letting his fingers slip between mine, and I am momentarily grateful for the darkness concealing the flush that rises to my cheeks. Even when walking into the unknown, it seems fear itself cannot quell my body’s reaction to him.
Then there is light, peeking through past the frame of the older man’s body, and when he takes a step further, it floods my eyes. I squint as we get closer to it, my eyes trying to adjust, and when they do, when we step out into it, I see the last thing I expected.
A young boy skips past us, shouting for his mother with a small wooden carving in his small hands. My gaze follows his path, to where he disappears into a small cave opening marked with flickering torches.
My lips fall open. They are everywhere—small caves all around us—and we stand in the centre.
I look up and see rock above us, but it isn’t fully enclosed.
Shrubbery lays over the open gaps, cushioning the sound from within and allowing slivers of light to peek through, dappled sunlight creating patterns on the dirt below our feet.
It appears to be a vast cave system, hidden entirely from the outside world, and an entire community thrives within its depths.
Small huts composed of branches and shrubbery sit around the edges of the large makeshift courtyard we stand in. The young boy appears again as his mother ushers him into one of the smaller huts, the wooden door creaking as they slip inside.
The older man watches us as we take in everything around us. “This way.” He gestures for us to follow him, but as I move to take a step, Rylan’s firm grip on my hand holds me in place.
“What is this?” he asks. The young man scoffs from behind us before walking off and disappearing into one of the many caves.
“It is the only place in this entire province that the shields cannot find us,” the older man explains.
His eyes are pleading. He is trusting us because he doesn’t have another choice. He is risking everyone here, all that they have built, for his wife. I tug on Rylan’s hand, and this time he doesn’t hesitate.
We follow the man past a group of women washing linens in buckets. Their faces are hollow with exhaustion, but they keep moving.
Men sharpen knives at the entrance of a small cave, the sound garnering Rylan’s attention as we wander past. His eyes meet mine, and I feel like my own expression is mirrored in his. A combination of wonder, sorrow, and realisation.
I can’t help but feel a sudden weakness in my limbs. I never imagined people were living in secret, entire communities hidden away.
But I should have.
“How long have you all been here?” Rylan asks.
The man’s small smile is barely more than a twitch of his lips. “My wife and I have been here for nearly a year,” he says. “Others have joined us more recently, the newest only arriving mere days ago.”
“How?” I mutter. “I mean…how did they find you?”
The man stops outside a large hut, his shoulders curved.
“My son.” He gestures across the way to the young man who accompanied us.
Except now, he is sitting on a tree stump, a bright smile on his face, as he skins an apple while speaking with two young boys.
“He goes out every week, scouting for shields and looking for anyone who might need help.” My lips fall open once more as my eyes find him again, the young man who seemed so harsh.
“There are one hundred and forty-three of us now, including the children.” The man shakes his head.
“It is far more than what I thought this place would ever be, but I will never turn someone away. Not unless we run out of space.”
I don’t know what to say, and it seems Rylan doesn’t either. We both remain quiet, instead soaking in everything around us.
He pushes open the door of the hut in front of us with a creak. “Please.”
I nod as I step through the door, stooping to fit through the slightly short doorframe. It is dark inside, with only one oil lamp in the corner providing dim light for the entire space. My eyes quickly adjust to see a woman lying in bed, her movements slow but her eyes wide.
“August?”
“Here, love,” the older man says, dashing to her bedside. “I brought help. This is…”
I pull a small stool over to the bed. “My name is Everleigh, and this is my friend Rylan.” I look over my shoulder to see a soft look in his eyes as he stands by the door.
“She’s a healer, Iris,” August says. “She’s going to help you.”