35. Harper
35
That night, when they stopped in a narrow valley by a stream, sheltering under a rocky overhang, the weather closed in. Harper was glad for the added shelter as the temperature sank and the clouds piled high.
The humidity was unbearable as the first storms of autumn fought the summer into decline, and Harper made the most of the waterfall that plummeted off the overhang. Fully clothed, she walked into it, groaning with relief as the cool water engulfed her. It stripped away the dirt of the road and swept away the uncomfortable mugginess for just a few minutes. As she returned to camp dripping, she sank gratefully onto a rock, wriggling her toes as her aching feet pounded.
“Good idea.” Brand stripped to his breeches and dived under the waterfall. Harper gawked at him. Every inch of him bulged with muscle and strength. But, scars riddled his skin, some old, and some decidedly less so. She had never seen someone so battle-worn before. He was a fearsome warrior for certain.
“A wash is indeed a good idea!” Aedon said brightly, making to follow Brand. Ragnar grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
“Not so fast, laddie. I need some wood before this storm arrives. Go on. Off you go.”
Aedon groaned. “Make Erika do it!” Nevertheless, he lowered his vest and turned away. “Harper, want to help? I can show you the camp enchantments at the same time.”
“Yes!” She scrambled to her feet, now regretting her decision to soak her clothes, because shivers wracked her body.
“Hang on. Your lips are blue.” He stood face to face with her, and held his hands out to her, running them down her sides but never touching her. As they moved, she felt his magic sweep through her, warm and tingling, and when he stepped back, she was dry. He threw her a wink and strode away. She swallowed, wrenching her gaze away from the fine sight of him retreating, and hurried to follow. They gathered pieces of wood, twigs, and suitable kindling in short order, then returned to the outskirts of camp. Aedon paused. “Dump your wood here. We’ll set the wards and return for it.”
Harper emptied her armful on top of his.
“Take my hand. You’ll feel it then.”
Harper laced her fingers through his, hating how much the simple feel of him brought her pleasure. How could it be that she was undone so easily? Was she that starved of attention? She shoved the thoughts aside and matched her stride to his, focusing on one step and then the next, as the surge of his magic stroked through her. Harper revelled in it flooding her body, radiating out from him in pulsing waves. Her senses changed, as though the outside world muffled, then sharpened, repeatedly peaking and diminishing until they had walked around the entire camp, hopped over the stream, and were back where they had started.
“What did you do?” she asked breathlessly, heady on the energy tingling throughout her as it faded.
“I made us safe. That will keep us unheard and unseen, secret until we leave tomorrow.” He faced her—but had still not dropped her hand.
She felt the heat of his body. “Will I be able to do that?” she asked, as much to distract herself as to sate her curiosity.
“Yes. When your magic is strong enough, that will be an easy one for you.” He smiled, and she noticed he did not look tired at all, despite the amount of energy that had cascaded through her. He lingered close to her, his gaze dipping to her mouth for a fleeting second before he retreated, slipping his fingers from hers after a light rub of his thumb upon her hand that was so small, she was not sure whether she had imagined it.
“Come. Tell me of your life,” he said in a light voice. “What is it like to dwell in Caledan, the land of no magic?”
“Hmph. Hardly as interesting as your escapades.”
“Oh, I suspect that isn’t true.” He grinned, his merry, twinkling eyes fixed upon her. She looked away, pushing down the flutter in her stomach.
“There’s not much to tell.” She recounted her life in recent years with Betta, but kept the years before that she never spoke of to anyone to herself. No one would want to hear of the young waif who survived on scraps of charity and waste, who came from goodness knows where and whose earliest memories were of the dull ache of hunger and the cold of no bed. She did not like to often think of it herself.
Aedon was silent for a moment once she finished. “Well, then, I suppose our company is much more pleasant and thrilling.”
“It wouldn’t take much,” she muttered darkly. For a moment, she was back in the dingy, stinking inn with its undesirable patrons. He laughed at her scowl, and bent to retrieve some of the wood. She gathered the rest and returned to camp behind him.
“Did this arse make you carry all that? Let me help you with that,” Brand said to Harper as she returned to camp, shooting a reproving glare at Aedon, who ignored him as he built the fire. Brand rose from where he had been playing chatura with Ragnar.
“I’m all right. I’ve got it.” She dodged out of his way and dumped the wood on the rocky shelf by Ragnar. “Is that enough?”
“That’ll do.” He did not lift his eyes from the board for more than a second, absorbed in the game of strategy.
Aedon lit the fire with a thought and in moments, fuelled by magic, it burned merrily, just as the air cooled around them and the heavens opened. They huddled under the overhang out of the driving rain and glad for the fire, though there was no meat to go on it that night and they had to make do with more jerky and some sour fruit Ragnar had found that day.
Separated from all of them, Erika sat as immobile as a statue with her back to the rock. Harper could not help but wonder what had happened to make her such an inhospitable character.
The rain stopped before darkness fell, taking the chill with it. Harper watched the stream run by before them, lost in the babble. She startled as a shadow fell over her.
Erika stood before her, holding out one of her blades. “I’m cold and stiff. We can start your practise now.”
Harper scrambled to her feet and took the blade. Her arm fell involuntarily, just as it had the last time, unused to the weight.
“Hold your blade upright,” said Erika, irritation biting in her voice. “And watch your feet. Stand with them farther apart, one slightly behind the other. Your balance will be better.”
She darted forward to slap Harper on her thigh with the flat of a blade.
“Ow!” said Harper. “I wasn’t ready.”
“Always be ready. And move your feet. Don’t stand still.”
She darted forward again. Harper dodged backwards, but not quickly enough, and she grimaced as her heel jarred against an errant tree root. Her feet felt like bricks, her legs wooden. Erika rapped her again. It smarted.
“Try and attack me. Maybe your attack is stronger than your defence.”
She reddened. Erika thought her defence was bad enough, and it was clear she did not think her attack would be much stronger. Harper dashed forward, her arm sailing through the air, but travelling a different path than she intended with the weight of the blade. Erika easily knocked it aside. She turned and gave Aedon a look that said, “really?”
“We all have to start somewhere,” Aedon murmured.
Erika huffed. “This is going to take a lot of work.” She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose between a forefinger and thumb. “Right. We’ll go again. Perhaps this might help. Think of a fight much like a dance. You dance with your opponent back and forth, teasing them, pushing them, leading them on.”
“I can’t dance,” mumbled Harper.
“Of course you can’t,” said Erika through gritted teeth.
Erika demonstrated manoeuvres with Brand, moving with exaggerated slowness. Each time, Harper had to copy them against Erika, movement perfect. Even that felt like too much. Every movement was so alien to her. Muscles she did not even know she had were forced into action and complained thrice as hard for it, until she trembled with tiredness. This was awful. Shame and disappointment burned in her chest, and her throat clogged with thickness that threatened to brew angry tears. The grand tales made this sound so glamorous. Reality was far from it. Swordplay was intolerable. It was hard, loud, and impossible. Harper’s patience had worn out, and it seemed so had Erika’s.
“I think we’re done for today. If you remember half of that, well, you might not get killed immediately.”
Great.
“One final thing. Stand just like that with your feet in… Yes, that position. Hold your blade out, as if you’re facing off an attack. Stay there.”
“Until when?”
“Until darkness has fallen and you can see the stars above you.”
Harper gaped at her. “Why?”
Irritation flashed across Erika’s face. “Discipline is critical.”
Harper didn’t drop her gaze.
“Because you need to grow your strength. You need to be able to hold your blade and wield it for long periods of time. You’re already tired. You have no stamina, so you must build it.” She slapped the underside of Harper’s arm with the flat of her blade. “See? You’re drooping already. Stand up straight.” With a low growl, Erika turned and stalked to Brand. “I can’t take this,” she hissed.
Brand stared at her flatly.
“I don’t deal with novices.”
“Patience.” His voice was low and soothing, but Erika scowled all the same. “I know this isn’t easy for you. I’ll take over from here.”
“I can do it,” Erika snapped.
A weary flare of irritation spiked in Harper. Erika hated her and didn’t want to train—but would do it out of pride if she had to, rather than cede the responsibility to someone else? Harper didn’t understand the nomad at all.
Brand huffed. “But it’s better if you don’t. I insist.” His tone brooked no argument.
Harper’s cheeks burned as she returned her gaze to the woods. Did she mean for me to hear that? Erika did not seem like a good teacher at all. Harper wondered if there was more to her than met the eye, because so far, she did not like Erika. I am trying. What’s her problem?
Harper straightened and forced her complaining arm to rise again, though her muscles ached fiercely. As the sunlight faded and the moon rose, Erika stood there, watching her. She stayed silent, only moving to slap Harper’s arm or tap her back to indicate she faltered once more. Harper dug deep until every part of her hurt, but she clung doggedly on until her stare could have burned a hole into the scenery. She would not give Erika the satisfaction of seeing her fail.
When Erika finally allowed her to relax, Harper’s whole body trembled, but Erika offered no sympathy. Harper made no complaint, though her eyes pricked with tears, overwhelmed in her exhaustion by fears that assailed her mercilessly, taunting her about how useless and out of place she was. Harper gave Erika her blade and stumbled back to collapse upon her cloak, ignoring Ragnar’s offer of a seat at his game of chatura with Aedon as she fell fast asleep.
Harper woke early the next morning. Though exhausted, she could not return to sleep. Erika’s scathing tones burned in her mind as she tossed and turned— and eventually gave up. She rose silently, glancing around camp. Brand was also awake, gazing into the woods.
“I’m going to wash,” she whispered.
He held up his hand to stop her. She paused. He drew out a knife from within the folds of his cloak, though it looked more like a dagger to her, so huge was it.
“Never go anywhere unarmed, just in case. Be on guard.”
She took it, her hand barely fitting around the wide grip that was formed for his big, broad hands. “Thanks.”
The ground remained sodden and muddied from the previous night’s storm, though the sun had risen, already creating a warmer, more pleasant, day. Harper looked at her feet, focusing on not slipping on the moss- and mud-covered rocks as she rounded the outcrop. She followed the stream far enough that she would not be seen or overheard from camp.
Clambering down to the stream, she unclipped her cloak, resting it and the dagger atop a high rock, stripped to her undergarments, and gave herself a brisk wash in the cool water using a chunk of moss. It felt refreshing to wipe the visible layer of grime from her skin that the fire’s smoke had gifted the previous night.
“What I’d give for a hot wash,” she murmured to herself, laughing dryly. Had she ever gone so long without a proper wash? Definitely not. No matter how poor she had been, water was free and wood plentiful. A hot bucket had been her treat after an unbearable shift or long hunt. It did not bear thinking about.
She clambered from the water and found a rock that caught the early morning sun. She perched upon it and closed her eyes, soaking in the light and warmth as it dried her skin. Before too long, she was almost dry, so she hastened to put on the billowing shirt, just in case anyone else should have awakened and followed her. She bent to pull on her breeches. As she tugged them over her hips, an arrow shattered on the stones beside her.