24. Zari #2
“Except, perhaps, for me to switch to a more lucrative career?” he teased, and just as a summer storm might pass in seconds, his tone was light again. “I’m told even window washers make more than journalists these days.”
As if the terrain they crossed was no more dangerous than a pleasant park, they walked hand in hand through the forest. There was no path ahead, but Yansin led her confidently, pushing aside branches when they blocked the way. Only twice did he draw the sword to hack through thicker underbrush.
Its blade flashed in the sunlight, otherworldly in its glow.
Soon, they entered a clearing where a tangle of ancient trees had fallen.
Their damp, weathered trunks formed a rough archway, the thick moss clinging to them like a second skin.
The ground beneath them was littered with wildflowers and mushrooms sprouting from the rotting wood.
Rabbits darted in and out of the shadows, their quick, twitching noses flicking up every so often as they scurried, barely noticing the two travelers.
A stream rushed by, ringing half of the clearing.
Yansin halted, his arms stretching toward the sky. “We’ll rest here. It’s a fine enough spot for a lesson in swordplay.” He handed her the sword, its hilt gleaming faintly in the filtered sunlight.
“Your first task,” he said, as he leaned against one fallen tree, one foot against the trunk, “is to draw the blade smoothly. Set your feet, square and steady. A poor stance is as dangerous as a dull edge.”
Zari took the sword and attempted to draw it but the weapon felt awkward and unbalanced. The blade caught in the scabbard, resisting her efforts. With each misstep, her arm grew heavier, her muscles protesting the unfamiliar exercise. The blade’s elegance only seemed to mock her clumsy movements.
She sighed. “I was foolish to think this would be easy. ”
“Given what you’ve survived already, I do not think this an insurmountable task,” Yansin replied. Springing up from where he’d leaned, he took the sword.
Instantly, the blade seemed like an extension of his arm as he sunk into the defensive position, showing her again how to square her shoulders to anticipate the enemy’s first attack. “Try again.”
She groaned. If she couldn’t even draw a sword without tripping over her feet, how was she ever going to survive on the isles? “It’s hopeless.”
“No,” Yansin insisted. “As long as you draw breath, nothing is hopeless.”
He gestured for her to try again. Gritting her teeth, she once more squared her feet. Her fingers curled tight around the hilt. I can do this, she thought. For the sake of my father.
Now, it was her papa’s face she saw in her mind’s eye, his patient tone and gentle expression as he helped her practice her penmanship, over and over.
Though her governess had been a good teacher, her father had always set aside time to work with her.
Zari let herself imagine he was standing next to her, watching over her as she attempted to draw the sword.
Finally, the blade glided free, slipping easily from the scabbard. She’d done it. A grin broke on her face, which she found matched Yansin’s own.
“Well done, brave warrior.”
After, she sat with him, near the small stream, close enough their shoulders bumped, though hers, still sore from the training, ached a bit at the contact.
Yansin picked up a small stone, and with that same lazy grace, he threw the rock into the water.
It skipped several times before sinking.
“No doubt, you’ll travel through Kirkton to get to the isles—that’s the Rhydonian town closest to the isles. I can draw you a map.”
She had no paper except her father’s letters. At least one of them was blank on the reverse side, so she offered that, and a small pencil. Yansin smoothed the wrinkled sheet on his thigh. With fluid, sweeping lines he created a rough map of the north-eastern part of the continent.
“Lake Lochna is here.” He tapped on the bottom left corner of the page. “Then, the easiest pass through the mountains is a north-eastern one, based on an old logging trail.” That he sketched out with a wiggly line. “Following it sends you to Kirkton, which rests miles inland from the cliffs.”
The cliffs were impossibly steep. No Rhydonian had ever climbed down them and lived to tell the tale.
How she was supposed to reach the isles without undertaking that task, she wasn’t sure.
She simply had to trust Tivre had a plan.
After all, he certainly didn’t have the physique of someone who could climb cliffs, so he must have another route. Unless… “Fae can’t fly, right?”
Yansin laughed again. “No, they cannot. There are other ways down to the shore. Your friends will know them.” A shadow seemed to cross over Yansin’s handsome face, his grip on the pencil squeezed tighter.
He used the empty space to draw a little cabin with an arched door and large berry bushes.
“This home is south of Kirkton. Go alone. Not with your companions.” His gaze remained on the drawing.
“I… ever since that night in the capital, Zari, I find myself remembering things. Parts of the past I’ve forgotten, or tried to place behind me. ”
“Memories of the war?” she asked, thinking again of the hospital wing dedicated to those soldiers who could not leave behind terrible, haunting memories.
“I don’t have all the answers. Not yet. I know this house is a safe place. At the door, knock four times. Tell whoever answers that the robin sent you.”
That night, Zari slept soundly, bundled in Yansin’s borrowed coat. In the morning, she woke to find Yansin already putting out a small fire. Dark circles hung beneath his eyes. A twinge of guilt hit her; she should have told him to wake her, so he could get some rest, too.
She also wondered if she should have offered to let him rest by her side.
The illicit thought sent a shiver racing down her spine.
She shook her head, schooling herself to remember her mission.
She had to get to Lochna, find Tivre and the others, and then, reach the isles.
Any… foolishness… with Yansin would be exactly that. Sure to only end in heartbreak.
Or worse.
Zari had helped deliver more than one baby to an unwed mother. She knew the potential consequences of laying with a man and, like most unmarried nurses, she received a shot twice a year as a precautionary measure. Still. It wasn’t foolproof. And she must not be a fool. Not even for him.
Even if a smile from him sent her heart racing, and his voice was enough to calm all her fears.
Yansin passed her a mug full of rustic porridge, studded with raspberries. “Eat up,” he said. “I’ve already had mine. We should get going soon to make the most of daylight before the soldiers catch up to us.”
The breakfast tasted as fine as any meal she’d had back home. It was Yansin’s words, however, that lingered, reminding her of Javen’s cold-hearted nature and his knowledge of Tivre, of magic, of the fae language. He was connected to the fae, she was sure of it.
She was still ruminating as they packed up the simple camp and began their walking. “Awful man,” she said under her breath.
“Surely my cooking wasn’t that bad,” Yansin replied.
Zari stopped. “Oh! No. I didn’t mean you, not at all.”
“That’s a relief.” He smiled at her. “Tell me more of this person who’s led you to look so grumpy.”
“A military officer, the one in charge of the soldiers. He’s followed me from the capital, wants to arrest me on completely made-up charges and—” And seemed to have a much deeper understanding of the fae than she would have expected. “But Javen couldn’t—”
“Javen?”
She nodded. “Captain Javen. Awful man indeed.”
“Ah.” Yansin replied. “Never liked officers much myself.”
They walked on through the woods, where the trees crowded close together, their trunks dark and gnarled, as if the forest had grown in on itself over centuries.
The air was thick with the scent of pine, damp earth, and the sharp tang of rotting leaves.
Yansin’s whistle broke the silence, a bright, carefree tune that seemed like a challenge to the gloom.
Zari glanced at him. “Nothing ever weighs on you for long, does it?”
A smile tugged at his lips, mischief dancing in his gaze. “Should I be worried?”
“I thought you were on the run,” she began, cautiously, disliking the sudden reminder of how little she knew about Yansin. “And I just told you that I could potentially be arrested.”
“Ah, but you are not, we are safe, and the sun is bright overhead. I will take comfort in these small joys, for they are rare indeed.”
Soon, he switched to humming, as they fought past heavier vegetation. Thick vines and tangled branches grabbed at their clothes, scraping against their skin as they pushed forward. Eventually, as they once more stumbled onto a dirt path ahead, Yansin broke into song.
“ Tomorrow, tomorrow, shine as brightly as the moon. ” His voice was as lovely as his smile, smooth like silk and as warm as sunlight. The tune carried them both for the next mile or two, until once more they broke for lunch.
Slowly, the first stars emerged, far brighter and more numerous than any Zari had ever seen in the capital’s polluted skies. She craned her neck to look up, attempting to pick out constellations she barely remembered from her childhood.
Yansin laughed, gently, at her wonderment. “Certainly makes up for the lack of other comforts of city living.” He pointed out a bright set of stars. “Those five, though, I could always see. In Karsic, in the capital, or in any place I’ve ever laid my head.”
“The Five Jewels of the Kingdoms,” Zari agreed. “The brightest in the sky.”
“On the isles, they call them Liros Elendin. The five elementals.” He pointed out another set of vivid stars, one at a time. “And those four, the Mires Cardinele. The four cardinals, which share the name of the four most important isles, apart from the Queen’s own.”
“Like the South Star?” Zari asked, instantly thinking of Hazelle .
He nodded, then, pointed at one more star, a faint one that seemed trapped between the points of the crescent moon. “And that one? I call him Bob.”
Zari burst into laughter, which Yansin soon joined in. Their mirth echoed through the woods, and seemed to reverberate in her bones. Despite the dangers, she never wanted to forget this moment, with their laughter as bright as the stars above.