Chapter 14
Fourteen
Ivy
My mentor’s words echo in my head long after we’ve left the Haven behind. With every step I take down the mountain, a boulder seems to sway in my belly.
Sulla saw my power firsthand. She knows more about the riven than anyone else I’ve encountered in my twenty years in this world.
What if she’s right that I shouldn’t trust myself? Tackling a province-wide uprising is going to challenge me a lot more than tangling with a small group of conspirators at the royal college.
My men have stayed mostly silent as we descend the mountain, concentrating on leading the horses well so none of us breaks a leg. As the ground between the trees levels out, Stavros draws to a halt at the head of our group and reaches for his saddle to mount.
The rest of us move to follow suit, but Casimir stops me with a touch of my shoulder. He trails his fingers up to my jaw and leans in to claim a kiss.
The heat of his mouth reminds me of all the ways he took charge the other day, of the fleeting freedom he offered me from my responsibilities.
Which maybe is his intention, because when he draws back, he says in a firm but tender tone, “We’re facing this crisis together.
If you need anything, we’ll be right there with you. ”
I gaze up at him with a swell of affection. “I know. I couldn’t do this on my own.”
And you shouldn’t need to, Julita pipes up in my head. But I do look forward to seeing the bunch of you accomplish what the king’s whole army hasn’t managed. He’d better realize he never should have cast you out.
As I haul myself into Toast’s saddle, I appreciate my trousers and the slits I cut in my dress’s skirt overtop more than ever. At least my legs will stay decently warm in the late autumn air.
Stavros glances back at the rest of us. “We should take stock. See what equipment we still have—what supplies we’re starting with so we know what we might still need. I have my sword.”
He taps the weapon at his waist that thankfully he wore on his trek to the nearby fort.
I look down at myself. “I’ve got two knives—one in my boot and one on my thigh. The other two, you were using for your combat training. Sulla must have confiscated them.”
“We’ll want more weapons then. Is anyone else carrying anything of use? What’s in your saddle bags?”
We keep the horses walking at a sedate pace while we check the baggage attached to the saddles.
My favorite noble dress that I was wearing when we rushed to the royal family’s aid is still bundled up in mine, along with the military uniform and a few extra apples. The men all have their uniforms too.
Alek has the tent, which we haven’t needed to use since arriving, and Casimir has one blanket. We brought the others up to the Haven buildings when we were first getting settled in.
We have two canteens between us, which Stavros and Rheave already refilled at the mountain stream. We all wore our cloaks coming down from the sleeping building, so we’re not doing too badly for outerwear. Although I’m not sure just how cold it’ll get in the north with winter creeping in.
Casimir finds the makeup he used to partly conceal Stavros’s and Alek’s faces, however much use we might get out of that. And the four of us have our enchanted lockets that we can signal each other with if we separate.
Stavros hums pensively when we’ve finished our accounting. “We can forage for food, but hunting won’t be easy with just a sword and a couple of knives. We’ll see how far we can get with my snares. It’ll be a lot harder to start fires without the flint. And we’re awfully short on blankets.”
Alek glances at Rheave. “Could you start a fire with your daimon powers?”
Rheave peers at one of his hands. “I’m not sure. It seems to go straight to burning without any flames.”
“We didn’t see any fire at the palace, only scorch marks and charred things,” I acknowledge, and hesitate. “I suppose we could… borrow a few things from one of the farms around here?”
The idea of stealing from farmers who are eking out a living sits much worse with me than pilfering from the overflowing coffers of greedy merchants.
I suspect Stavros can sense my reluctance. He knows my aspirations as a thief were to give to the commoners who needed it, not take from them.
He scans the horizon and turns his stallion a little to the right. The rest of us follow suit automatically.
He motions with his prosthetic toward the route ahead of us.
“About halfway to the fort, I spotted a military marking that indicates an equipment stash nearby. The royal army has hidden stores across the country for emergency situations. There’ll be food rations and weapons and probably some tools and the like as well. ”
Alek tenses in his saddle. “Will it be guarded?”
The former general shakes his head. “That would defeat the purpose of hiding it. We’ll have to be careful because of the patrols the major mentioned, but that’s the case no matter where we go.
And the stores aren’t checked often. Supplies taken from one are much less likely to be noticed and commented on than a farmyard theft. ”
My uneasy spirits settle. “Let’s make that our first stop, then. If scourge sorcerers taking over the country doesn’t count as an emergency, I don’t know what would.”
We nudge the horses to a trot, not wanting to push them too hard when we have a long journey ahead of us. Alek lets his mare fall back closer to Rheave.
“When we reach the north, it sounds like there could be quite a lot of other daimon that the scourge sorcerers have turned into accomplices,” the scholar says. “How close would you need to be to distinguish between them and actual people?”
I peer over my shoulder in time to see the daimon-man cock his head. “I think I’d just need to see them clearly. Someone in the same city square or across a clearing like the ones we’ve been in should be fine—there’s a feeling I get.”
“You’ll let us know if you do see any?” I ask.
Rheave draws himself up straighter at my attention. “Of course, if it would be helpful. I’d like to know what’s happened to the others like me.”
“It’d definitely help,” Stavros remarks from ahead of us. “At the very least, it’ll let us know there are likely to be scourge sorcerers in the area.”
Alek adjusts his grip on his reins. “And do you know any way to disable them or, well, free them other than killing them so the bodies imprisoning them turn back into clay? Or to break the scourge sorcerers’ hold on them so maybe we don’t have to?”
Rheave knits his brow. “I think… I think if the one who cast the magic that can command us died, the other sorcerers wouldn’t be able to control us anymore.
But the previous orders might linger for some time.
And I don’t know who cast the magic. From what I’ve seen, the bodies remain whole and living, containing us, as long as they’re alive. ”
Alek was obviously hoping for a more useful answer than that. He lets out a mild disgruntled sound.
After a moment, he ventures another question. “How long have you been in existence anyway? Were you around for the Great Retribution?”
Rheave hums. “I’ve heard talk about that time for a while, but I don’t remember experiencing the sorts of things people mention happening. My memories do become blurry fairly quickly, though. We don’t pay much attention to the passing of time, only what we’re doing in the moment.”
“Ah.” Alek pauses. “You said you could tell when Kosmel reached out to Ivy. Do the daimon interact with the godlen often? Have you ever talked to one directly?”
Why is he asking about this? Does he think Rheave might be able to plead for our cause with the other lesser gods, prevent another hail of vengeful fire?
If so, it appears we’re out of luck. The daimon-man lets out a chuckle.
“I sense when they come, but they don’t usually pay attention to us.
And we don’t really… talk, even to each other, in our usual form.
” His tone abruptly brightens. “Maybe we should. Talking can lead to many interesting discoveries.”
Stavros sounds as if he’s restrained a snort, but Rheave’s enthusiasm brings a smile to my lips for the first time since we left the Haven. He manages to find so much wonder in the world even in dire circumstances.
There is so much that’s wonderful in this world, no matter how difficult the road ahead of us becomes. That’s exactly why we need to save the world from those who’d twist it to their sadistic ends.
As the trees thin up ahead, the former general twists in his saddle, his voice low. “We should avoid any talking now unless it’s absolutely necessary, until we’re back in the cover of the denser woods. Our voices will carry farther over open ground.”
Rheave clamps his mouth shut with an emphatic nod.
We cross the fields and weave through a stretch of forest beyond them. The sun is just past its peak, gleaming through the leaves, when Stavros motions to a small carving on a tree trunk.
It’s Sabrelle’s sigil surrounded by a circle with a few other, smaller etchings I don’t know the meaning of. But Stavros clearly does.
He urges his stallion to the right, and the rest of us follow. Several minutes later, he turns left at another etching. It can’t be more than a few minutes after that when we arrive at a small glade.
When Stavros dismounts, we all do the same and gather around him. He kneels to brush aside the fallen leaves to reveal a smooth, round stone. When he lifts that up, a steel hatch shines in the early afternoon sunlight.
The former general pauses. The center of the hatch holds the imprint of the Melchiorek family crest, like he had on his old sword that must be back in his chest in his quarters at the college.
He sits back on his heels with a faint growl. “Shit. I didn’t think about that. Every officer carries a seal that could unlock this, but obviously I don’t have mine. The entrance is locked with magic.”