Chapter 15
Fifteen
Ivy
Toast gives his mane a rebellious shake as he trots along, but his gait has turned more sprightly on the even ground.
After three days of traveling through woodlands, we’ve decided we can risk taking one of the smaller country roads, at least as long as it’s cutting through forests rather than fields so we can’t be seen at a distance.
It’s hard to keep up a good pace picking through the brush.
Stavros is still taking the lead, since he’s the one with by far the best idea of where we’re going. A couple of times he’s ridden ahead alone to check road markers, but mostly he seems to be guided by the sun and the occasional landmark.
We all scan the trees warily as we ride, our passage silent other than the clop of the horses’ hooves. My ears are pricked for any other sound that could alert us not just to a patrol but local brigands as well.
Although with most of us visibly armed, in peasant-style dress, and carrying little cargo, we probably don’t look like ideal targets for a robbery.
It’s only when we stop for a brief break that we speak again, in lowered voices. Casimir passes around handfuls of nuts and bloodfruit, and Stavros checks our steeds’ horseshoes for stray pebbles while they graze.
Rheave drifts over to the trees while chewing on his dried fruit and trails his fingers over the leafy vine that’s wrapped around one of the trunks.
“Ivy,” he says thoughtfully, and looks over at me with a glint in his eerie eyes that’s almost sly.
“Is it strange that you have the same name as a plant?”
I shrug. “It’s not the most traditional name, but I’ve met people named after flowers. I picked it because it meant something to me.”
The daimon-man blinks, and his face lights up with more curiosity. “You picked it?”
Julita’s presence perks up in my head. I didn’t know that either. You’ve been holding back stories.
She at least knows the basics of my history, things I’d rather not have to explain to Rheave too.
My stomach knots, and I pick my words carefully to skirt the worst parts of the tale.
“Things were bad between my parents and me as I grew up. I left home early and picked a new name for myself. There was ivy growing on a tree in a neighborhood I often visited. It seemed like something resilient and a little sneaky, and I liked that.”
A giggle bubbles out of Julita. It certainly suits you, and I mean that as an absolute compliment.
Rheave appears to consider my explanation. “Maybe all people should pick their own names. They would be more fitting that way.”
“No one would know what to call us when we’re too little to decide,” Casimir says in an amused tone.
Rheave starts to chuckle. “And if you went by what babies look like, they’d all be called ‘Potato’ or ‘Gourd.’”
I muffle a laugh of my own with my hand. The fact that I can laugh at all despite the tension hanging over our trek lifts my spirits and makes the day seem a little brighter.
Alek shakes his head with a short guffaw and shoots a tentative glance at me. “What was your birth name? Not that I’d call you anything but Ivy. But it might be useful to know in case it comes up somehow… In case anyone manages to connect you to your old life.”
I guess that’s true. I hesitate all the same, my body balking against forming the sounds I haven’t heard spoken to me in more than eight years.
My voice comes out a bit raw. “Izabel. Izabel Milaeya.”
Stavros makes a dismissive sound, as if casting aside the name and all the painful history entwined with it. “Ivy suits you much better. And you don’t need a last name when the woman it refers to doesn’t deserve to be honored.”
I completely agree, Julita declares.
The former general pats his stallion’s neck. “Come on. I’d like to cover a lot more distance today.”
An unfamiliar voice pipes up from behind us. “I don’t know if you’ll accomplish that.”
We all startle, Stavros’s hand whipping to his sword as he whirls to face the source of the unexpected interruption.
A figure is standing in the middle of the road, just a few paces from the nearest of our horses. I have no idea how the man got this close without any of us noticing him approaching.
Especially given that he doesn’t look like the nimblest of hikers.
His shoulders are hunched within the layers of dark gray cloth that swath his body so erratically I can’t tell whether they’re part of a cloak or a thick tunic, or perhaps some combination of the two.
He sways a little as we stare at him and clenches his hand around a gnarled walking stick.
His face is gnarled too, a sharp nose jutting from his wizened brown face. Wisps of white hair peek from beneath his hood.
But his eyes are perfectly steady. He peers right back at us with a fathomless gaze, his irises so dark I can’t tell where his pupils end and they begin.
Julita shivers. Who in the realms is that? And did no one ever tell him it’s impolite to sneak up on people?
I’d hardly take the man for a threat if it wasn’t for his abrupt arrival. Stavros’s tensed stance suggests he’s unnerved too.
What on earth is anyone doing traveling this isolated road alone and on foot? Does he live on a farm nearby?
The former general motions to the old man with his prosthetic, his hand of flesh still resting on his sword hilt. “What do you mean, we might not accomplish it? Who are you?”
The man rocks on his heels, making his head bob in an unsettlingly bird-like motion. “Many people make plans. They don’t always turn out as they hope.”
He ignores the second question completely. I glance at Rheave, but the daimon-man shakes his head. “Not like me,” he murmurs. “Just a man.”
“Where are you headed?” Casimir asks cautiously.
The old man hums to himself, his expression turning distant. “I simply need to find it, and then I’ll know…”
He seems so out of sorts that I can’t keep quiet. “Are you all right?”
His unsettling gaze snaps back to me. A chill washes over my skin.
“There are a few coming who would like to set their swords through all your hearts,” he says in the exact same tone as before.
The instant his last word fades in the air, the sound of far-off hoofbeats carries on the wind.
Stavros stiffens and motions us toward the trees. He pitches his voice ominously low. “Take shelter. Pull as far back into the woods as you can, but be quiet about it.”
I snatch Toast’s reins and tug him with me between the trees. The stallion huffs in dismay but follows, shuffling through the brush.
The men guide their own mounts on either side of me. But we’ve only pushed about a single horse-length into the forest before Stavros jerks up his hand to stop us.
I glance toward the road—and spot a flash of rich blue fabric that makes my pulse stutter.
Three soldiers in the standard military uniforms are riding around the bend in the road maybe a quarter mile distant. The thudding of their horses’ approach reaches our ears even more clearly now.
Shit. It’s got to be one of the king’s patrols.
If we keep tugging our steeds along, they’ll hear us rustling through the forest now. They’ll be able to see us in a matter of seconds.
But if we abandon the horses to walk more stealthily, the animals will still give us away. At best, we’ll lose all the supplies we’ve gathered.
At worst… our blood might water these trees.
Stavros’s face has gone taut with tension. He gestures for us to ease our horses down to lie on the forest floor.
I touch Toast’s muzzle in the hopes of keeping him calm and sink to my own knees. The stallion gives me an incredulous look but follows suit with just a brisk shake of his mane.
We’re more concealed by the bushes now, but I’m not sure it’ll be enough. The pale gray hair of Rheave’s mare stands out amid the vegetation even in the shadows.
Are we going to have to fight these men? Kill them so they can’t stab their swords through us the way the old man suggested?
My stomach churns at the thought. I left the Haven to stop people from dying, not to add to the death toll.
At the thought, my magic flares in my chest and quivers through my limbs. There are so many things it could do to protect me.
I hesitate and then slowly consider. Is there something I could do that wouldn’t hurt anyone?
Maybe it’s time I put Sulla’s teachings to use. Now, while I have a few moments to gather myself, rather than in a desperate jab if this comes to a battle.
Soon I might not even have the choice.
My heart thumps faster, but I can’t back away like I did about opening the underground storeroom. Eventually I need to find out whether I can count on my control when it matters most.
The soldiers don’t know we’re here. All I need to do is ensure I keep it that way. Something concrete with a clear counteraction.
An idea forms in my head. My hopes rise with it.
I glance around at my men, confirming their positions in the forest around me. My heart aches at the thought of any harm coming to them.
I simply can’t let that happen. They came all this way to defend me, and now I need to return the favor.
Girding myself, I let go of Toast’s reins to extend one hand in front of me while lifting my other arm toward the treetops. Guiding my focus with my body.
Julita’s presence shivers in the back of my head, but she doesn’t speak, maybe not wanting to distract me when she can tell I’m up to something.
I picture the effect I want to see and squeeze the power in me into the shape I’ve imagined.
Darkness condenses through the trees between us and the road. The shadows thicken and stretch, forming a wall no mortal eyes should be able to penetrate in the gaps between the trunks.
My breath hitches with the energy streaming out of me. Overhead, the shadows should be stripping away from the uppermost branches to balance out my magic. The remaining leaves and the branches they’re clinging to will be glaring with unmuted sunlight.
But no patrol will see the blaze from the ground.
Through the thunder of my pulse, I will my cloak of shadows to hold steady. We all stay crouched in silence.
The soldiers trot by, their gazes skimming over the woods on either side of the road. For a second, one leans a little over in his saddle, squinting our way—
And then he’s straightened up with a rough chuckle as if chagrinned with himself. The patrol rides on without stopping.
I have the impression of Julita clapping her hands. Now that’s a worthy trick.
I keep pouring my magic into the darkness draped over us until the hoofbeats fade away and my head starts to spin. With a sharp exhalation, I pull my hands back to my chest, yanking my power in with it.
My magic squirms against my grasp, but half-heartedly. It settles into a soft vibration within my ribs that feels almost content, like a purring cat.
I sink back on my ass and swipe at the sweat that formed on my forehead. Relief surges up from my gut.
I did it. I worked with my magic instead of fighting it, all while keeping it on a tight leash. I stopped the consequences from harming anyone.
I really have harnessed it, and for once I didn’t need a godlen’s intervention to hold disaster in check.
An instinctive need to reassure myself of my men’s safety grips me. I turn toward Alek where he’s crouched across from me and pull him to me in a tight hug.
He returns the embrace with a rough noise in his throat. Casimir slips closer to me through the brush and wraps his arms around me in a hug of his own, as if to reassure me that he’s grateful rather than horrified by my efforts.
I squeeze him back too and then look up to find Stavros standing over me.
“Are you all right, Lady Thief?” he asks. “The conjuring didn’t rattle you at all?”
I drag in a slow breath. “No. I feel fine.”
His mouth curves into a half-smile that’s fond if restrained. “You did well. I think we just might make it to Eppun after all.”
Alek grips my shoulder. “That was fantastic. And using your magic a bit means it won’t hurt you as much if you have to hold it back later, doesn’t it?”
I nod, my nerves settling at their joint show of support.
As I get to my feet, nudging Toast to follow me, Rheave moves to join us. But he’s looking toward the road. “Where did the man who warned us go?”
We tread carefully out from between the trees. The road lies completely empty of both soldiers and strange old men.
He was… very strange, Julita remarks. I can’t say I’m upset that he’s gone.
I can’t say I am either.
“He probably moved off into the woods on the other side,” Stavros says.
“Whatever he’s up to, it’s no business of ours.
Let’s get going. We’ve had plenty of break time now, and I don’t want to be here if that patrol decides to double back.
” He flashes another smile my way. “Let’s not make our sorcerer save us all over again. ”
Despite the lightness of his words, I feel his gaze evaluating me. Watching to see if the use of my magic has had any ill effects on me?
As I heft myself into the saddle, a different sort of ache spreads behind my sternum.
I did save my companions… and I can only pray to whatever gods are watching over us that I can do it again without bringing even more danger down on us.