43. Maren
43
Maren
W e found the trail under a sparkling blanket of white early the next morning.
A single set of tracks marked its existence. Fresh holes in the powder left by hooves. We stopped to search the ground, our eyes meeting over the ears of our mounts.
“If whoever traveled through didn’t stop where we did,” I said, my voice lingering on a question. “If they were close enough to their camp to keep going...”
Eyes calculative, Kye brought Sero to a stop and slid off the saddle. “Can you chirp like a bird?” he asked.
I whistled quietly in answer, mimicking the warble of the little brown elepaios found in the island mountains.
“Make that sound if you hear or see anything.”
Reins loose in my hand, my fingers itched to weave baskets. I shoved them between my legs to keep them still, where the wool of Kye’s pants offered a bit of warmth. I’d forgone my skirts after the storm, knowing there would come a point when I’d be walking Kolibri through heavy snow instead of riding.
“What happens if we come across anyone on a trail we’re not supposed to be traveling?”
Kye tilted his head, his ear meeting his shoulder as though the answer was obvious, his hand drifting to the pommel of his sword behind his head.
He took the lead, the fur lines of his coat firm between his shoulder blades. Strict. Rigid. A single hand on the reins, his back became a straight line as he held his other arm horizontally, signaling with a silent fist whenever we needed to stop.
Laden with gear, Kolibri and Sero cut through the tracks of mud running down the slopes. Wherever the muffled crunch of snow wasn’t underfoot, thin rivers of meltwater hid the sound of our progress with a chorus of wet voices. But the savage air current had mostly died away, leaving the world deathly pale and silent.
There wouldn’t be any cabins to sleep in. We couldn’t risk a fire.
We had to make it over the crest of the mountain and find a shelter by nightfall, keeping the trail in sight so our tracks wouldn’t give us away.
Every noise brought us to a halt. Kolibri’s ears flickered madly as the mare sensed our hesitation. I leaned into her soft neck and sang under my breath, though I kept my eyes trained forward for movement through the sparse trees.
Shadows drifted as the sun passed overhead. Twigs snapped under the weight of shifting ice. Hollow wind played with my mind, luring my attention to the corners of empty air.
My ears strained for the sound of anything—lungs, hearts, hooves—hidden under the drifts. But it was my nose that detected the presence of humans first.
Lips in a tight circle, I whistled.
Kye stopped at once, eyes aloft as he waited for Kolibri to stand astride Sero.
“Smoke,” I murmured, my voice low. “East of here.”
“I don’t see anything,” he said, casting his eyes around the curve of the trail ahead.
I nodded, stroking Kolibri with a calm hand. “You will.”
Kye spent a moment raking the air with his gaze, though he was right. Nothing was visible yet. “Stay close,” he whispered, clicking his tongue for Sero to walk.
We rode as quickly as we could afford, darting through twisted ash trees when the trail allowed, though there were less and less of them as we neared the peaks above. Ice and rock tumbled under Kolibri’s hooves, grasping me by the heart every time she jerked to reconnect hoof to stable ground.
It was midday when the sound of voices drove us from the trail.
I heard them first. I lifted my chin and let out a frantic trill, already leading Kolibri into the snowy brush. Kye followed without question, sending Sero in after us. His dappled silver body blended into the muddied drifts as if he’d been painted there, but Kolibri’s black coat stood out like a drop of blood on white parchment. Hands shaking, I ripped my gray wool blanket from my pack, spreading it over the mare’s back and neck.
The voices grew louder. The sound of boots breaking through snow.
Kye took the bridle from my hand, gently tugging Kolibri’s head toward the ground, coaxing her to lay down. The mare chuffed at him, swinging her long nose away and pounding the snow with an iron shoe.
Kye darted a look over his shoulder. “Come on, baby girl,” he purred, holding the reins low until she dropped her head.
Snow crunched behind us, just around the corner we’d turned.
“Come on ,” he soothed. Kolibri flicked an ear toward the noise, adjusting the weight of her hind feet. “Tap the backs of her legs,” he murmured to me.
I squatted to do so, and Kolibri’s front knees folded to the snowy floor. The rest of her body followed, rocking backward as the three of us dropped out of sight.
Back against the tall drifts, I held my breath. Two voices came from the other side, though I counted three human hearts beating. I waited for them to spot the diverted tracks in the snow, but the pair carried on their conversation, seemingly clueless as they passed.
Turning my head, I met Kye’s eyes sidelong. He stared hard at me, his breath caged in his chest, a hand resting over my forearm, though I knew his focus was rapt on the sound of passing hooves. The voices rounded the curve, and he waited a moment before leaning forward to stand.
I flung my palm against his shoulder, stopping him.
One set of lungs hadn’t moved on with the others. Someone had stopped where I’d thought they might.
Eyes round, Kye heeded my silent message and sank back into his heels. His hand drifted to his shoulder, closing around the hilt of his sword and silently unsheathing it. He turned to face the trail.
I waited for them to move, whoever they were. For footsteps to return to my ears.
And then, Kye inched up the drift. My fist closed on the edge of his jacket. I shook my head, but he belly-crawled high enough to peek an eye over the edge.
He glanced back at me. “There’s nothing th—”
Kye’s head whipped back, ducking under the arc of blade as it sliced through the air. As though his bones had known it was coming. He scrambled back to gain his footing. The tip of the man’s sword struck ice, embedding itself in the drift. Its owner gave it a desperate yank as Kye shot up the snowy hill and slid down the other side.
I clawed up after him, raw panic driving my arms and legs. One man wasn’t very many. But there were two more close by, near enough to hear us. And an entire camp somewhere beyond them. I crested the snowbank as the Rivean soldier freed his sword. Too slowly, he turned to meet Kye. Rotating his torso into the tip of Kye’s blade.
Kye stepped into the man, driving his sword clean through the soldier’s gut.
Eyes wide in shock, the soldier dropped his weapon and grasped either side of Kye’s arm, as though unsure what to do. Kye withdrew it in a single pull, sending a spurt of glittering scarlet to the snow. The Rivean tilted sideways, his feet suddenly clumsy. He caught himself with an arm in the snow as he went down, blinking hard between the two of us. He opened his mouth to scream, and no noise came out.
Kye sank to his knee next to the man, running his blade through clean snow. “ Kde je tvoj tábor ?”
The soldier glanced up the mountain, hands on the wound at his stomach. He looked back at Kye and shook his head.
Kye’s attention darted to me. “Watch the trail, I’m sure they’ll come back for him.”
I nodded, slipping to the bottom of the drift and finding a tree to hide behind where I could hear voices or feet sooner than I’d see them. Crouching in the hardened snow, spine pressed against the bark, I watched Kye and the man as they spoke. And realized the soldier was crying.
Kye held the soldier’s hand, his head bowed over his bent knee. His soft voice reached through the cold wind, and though he spoke in Rivean, I recognized the cadence of his words. The final prayer to Theia.
Mother moon, take my hand,
Lead me to the after land.
Beaches warm and water pure,
My body young with fresh vigor.
Mother moon, take my pain,
Let it be a drop of rain.
Upon the shore where I shall live,
With each wave, let me forgive.
Mother moon, take my soul,
Lay my body in a hole.
Let not my loved ones cry for me.
Tell them I wait by the sea.
Leihaniians didn’t use the prayer. I’d only heard it a handful of times from sailors who had led a dying friend to Akamai’s house or had lost them at sea.
And, months ago, on a quiet island under the stars while I fought my own tears.
Kye wrapped the Rivean’s fingers around the hilt of the dying man’s sword, laying it vertically over his chest.
“ Pripraveny ?” Kye asked softly, holding the man’s hands firmly in place.
Pale, breath shallow, the soldier nodded.
Pulling his fur from his shoulders, Kye laid it across the man’s mouth. Then leaned in, his knee over the man’s neck.
I grimaced and turned away, stomach in sudden knots at the clawing sound of the man’s heels as they scraped against rock and ice, the cruel weight of it slipping over me. Unlike Naheso’s death, or the pirates, this Rivean hadn’t sought us out to attack. Hadn’t asked for a fight. He’d simply been walking a trail. Where he was supposed to be.
I wondered if he had friends in his camp. I wondered whether he was a husband to someone. If he was a father. I wondered if he’d made promises that he now couldn’t keep. I wondered what his name might be.
When everything grew quiet, I forced myself to stand, avoiding looking down. The wind tugged at my hair, ruffling the layers of my shirt under my furs, but my eyes remained trained on Kye, who held the man’s hand as life drained from his body. He waited long after the man stopped moving, then swallowed hard. Neither of us spoke as Kye placed himself at the Rivean’s head, braced his hands on the soldier’s shoulders, and slid his body gently over the edge of the mountain.
There one moment—then gone. His exit was soundless. We stared at the place where the mountain claimed his existence. Where we’d erased all evidence of his life.
“Come on,” Kye said, finally meeting my gaze with a regret I hadn’t yet seen in his eyes. “We’re losing the day."