Chapter 35
I rode through the night and for half a day before I reached the field where Torgrin’s father took me.
I peered across the long grass at the old inn. It was quiet today, and I noted that only two other horses were in the stables. Torgrin’s father had said that if we needed to escape King Hared, we should leave a message here.
The old innkeeper was sitting in a rocker by the entrance.
‘Good afternoon,’ I said to the man smoking a strange, curved pipe.
‘I stayed here a few weeks ago with another woman. We were travelling to Capita.’ He responded with a puff of smoke.
‘There may have been a man – or a few men – from Ephemeros staying here, and they told me I could leave a message at the inn if I wished to meet with them again.’ I looked at him hopefully.
It sounded vague even to me, but I didn’t know Torgrin’s father’s name.
‘Did you say you want to meet a man from Ephemeros? Well, here I am!’ He cackled while smoke curled out his nose and mouth. His accent was the same as Torgrin’s father’s, so he wasn’t lying. But without a name, I wasn’t sure what else to say.
‘Stop being an old tankard, Jester,’ came a woman’s voice from inside.
The archer who had used her Curse to strip me of my weapons appeared out of the dark interior. She looked me up and down while I did the same to her.
‘Well, you look like shit.’ She crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe.
‘Braya, right?’ My hand twitched above the hilt of my sword. ‘You look better than the last time I saw you.’ I had thrown her into a tree. I could have done worse.
She shrugged and waited for me to speak.
‘I need to meet with Torgrin’s father. I have a proposition for him.’
‘How does Torgrin feel about his woman propositioning our father?’ she smirked.
Our father?
‘You’re his sister?’ How could Torgrin not tell me I almost killed his sister? She had the same dark eyes and silky black hair, but her features were round and soft, not angular like Torgrin’s.
‘What are you doing here?’ Braya was done with the chitchat.
‘I will speak to your father about why I’m here and no-one else.’
Braya rolled her eyes at me. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled. I followed her gaze and watched two riders break from the trees I’d just come through. They must have watched me ride right past them.
‘Tell General Toro she’s here and wants a meeting.’ The men nodded and turned back the way they came. Braya went back inside without another word.
I stayed outside the inn and waited. The sun sank lower in the sky, and soon it was almost nightfall.
Riders appeared, and Braya came back outside. They nodded to her and passed her a sack.
‘I’m not wearing that again,’ I protested, eyeing the sack warily.
‘Well then, you can leave, and don’t bother coming back.’
‘Fine! I’ll wear the sack!’ This was wasting time Cillian and Torgrin didn’t have. ‘At least let me get on my horse first this time.’ I stomped off to get Nightmare from the stables.
I rode blindfolded for what felt like forever but, eventually, we came to a stop. I could hear running water and numerous voices around me.
Braya took off my hood. The sky was fully dark now. I could see several fires and makeshift huts alongside a sizeable winding creek. A small wooden cabin sat halfway between the little campsites.
‘This way,’ she said.
I followed her to the cabin. Torgrin’s father, General Toro, sat alone at a rustic table in a sparsely furnished room, eating his evening meal. He didn’t acknowledge me as I entered.
The general took a long drink from a tankard and wiped his mouth with a cloth. He eventually looked up at us, and he gestured for me to take the chair opposite him.
I sat and studied the man’s face, searching for Torgrin in his features.
I could see the similarities in him more than I could in his sister.
Father and son had the same sharp cheekbones, straight nose and strong jawline.
Torgrin’s skin wasn’t as golden as his father’s, but they both shared the same dark, piercing stare.
I wondered what Torgrin’s mother looked like, and if she missed the son who ran away at twelve.
‘Drink?’ he asked.
Braya filled his tankard again and poured one for me. I looked at it cautiously, not putting it past her to use a sleeping draught on me and drag me back to Ephemeros with them. Braya snorted at my response and took a gulp from my cup before slamming it back down in front of me.
‘So, why is it you and not my son I’m talking to?’ He observed me over his cup.
‘He is why I’m here,’ I said. ‘I believe King Hared has taken Torgrin prisoner.’ Neither father nor sister reacted to my words. ‘I want you to help me get him and another prisoner out of Capita’s dungeon.’
‘Why should I help?’ he asked.
‘He’s your son. Is that not reason enough?’ I ground out.
‘Torgrin chose to leave his family a long time ago. We owe him nothing.’
I had hoped this would go differently. But I had come prepared. ‘If you give me two hundred men to take down the city gate so we can send our people in, I’ll give you what you want.’
‘And what is it you think I want?’ He leaned back in his chair, linking his hands across his stomach.
‘Me,’ I said.
‘I could just take you now. I have fifty men outside.’ He watched me intently.
‘Do you remember how that went for you last time?’ I asked.
‘You look unwell. Weak, even. I could take my chances and save a lot of men and time.’
I dropped my wall and felt how weak the Darkness had become inside me. C’mon! Give them something. Torgrin and Cillian’s lives are at stake.
The Darkness answered. A chill wind entered the cabin, and shadows gathered around me, lifting my hair. The table shook, causing the tankards to spill.
‘All right, you’ve proved your point.’ The general unlinked his hands and steadied the table.
The shaking stopped immediately, and the shadows retreated. I tried not to reveal how much that little show had depleted me. His sharp eyes would miss nothing.
‘I will go willingly wherever you like once Torgrin is safe.’
The general was silent. I was prepared to get down and beg him at this point.
‘I can gather one hundred men, but if you want to double that, they will take at least a month to get here.’
‘One hundred will have to do, as long as they can take down the gate and give us time to get our people out of the dungeon,’ I said, relief washing over me. We’d have a fighting chance.
‘Father, we are to keep a low profile. Attacking Capita directly is a declaration of war against King Hared!’
‘Quiet, Braya!’ The general slammed his fist onto the table, spilling the last of the liquid from his cup. ‘It will be done,’ he said to me in a stern voice.
‘Thank you,’ I said with a curt nod.
‘Show her to the healer’s tent and get her some food. There’s no point taking her to the king if she’s dead.’
Braya bowed her head to her father. ‘Yes, General.’
‘Caris?’ he said as I stood to follow Braya.
I stopped to look at him.
‘If I know anything about my son, and if he cares about you as much as I think he does, he will not let you leave him.’
‘Well, I will deal with that when the time comes.’
‘Better you than me,’ he muttered as I left.
Braya showed me to one of the many huts that lined the stream.
‘Thank you.’ I found myself wanting her to like me. Was it because she was Torgrin’s sister, or did it have something to do with her being Cursed like me? I couldn’t decide which I wanted to know more – how she controlled her Curse or what Torgrin was like as a boy.
She walked away from me without replying, confirming what I already suspected: she didn’t like me.
I opened the flap of the hut and looked around the small space. A plump woman in a yellow robe sat on a cushion with her legs crossed and her eyes closed. Something sweet and spicy filled the air.
‘Leave it open and come sit down, Shadow Weaver,’ she said, her eyes still closed.
Shadow Weaver? I left the hut flap open and sat opposite her as instructed, feeling awkward and unsure of what she expected from me.
‘You have an infection in your shoulder, and the wound on your back is deep.’
‘How do you know that?’ I asked. Someone very observant could guess my injuries from my stiff movements, but she hadn’t even looked at me yet.
She took a deep breath and opened her dark brown eyes, which matched her curly hair and smooth skin. She smiled at me, revealing large, straight teeth and pink gums.
‘I’m a Wound Weaver. I do some Bone Weaving, too, but I’m limited to small bones.’ She tilted her head as if listening to something. ‘No broken bones.’
She rose gracefully from the floor and came to stand behind me. ‘I’ll help remove your leathers and shirt.’
I was a little embarrassed as I hadn’t washed for days, and I could imagine I didn’t smell pleasant.
She removed the wraps Mae had used to bind my wounds, and I waited for her to go in search of creams and tinctures.
Instead, she placed her hands over my wounds.
Her palms felt cool on my feverish skin.
The Wound Weaver began to chant – not words exactly, more like sounds.
Her voice was barely above a whisper, as if singing to herself.
Then, I felt the heat spread from her palms. It became so intense I wanted to move away, but I resisted.
Just when the heat of her touch became almost unbearable, she removed her palms.
‘How do you feel?’
I moved my shoulder freely for the first time in days, and the deep throbbing in my back was gone. I sighed in relief.
‘Better.’ I smiled at her as she sat back down next to me.
She tilted her head again, listening to something I could not hear. ‘I couldn’t get all the infection out, so I want to try again tomorrow.’
‘I need to get back to my camp,’ I explained.
‘Then I suggest resting for a few days to help fight the infection. It takes longer, but I can sense you are strong, so I think you will recover well enough.’
‘Thank you.’ I dressed and handed her the coins in my pockets, hoping it was enough.
She refused it with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t need payment. King Goa provides for all Anatomy Weavers.’ She smiled and closed her eyes.
Did that mean all the people of Ephemeros had access to Weavers who could heal them with their hands? How many lives could have been saved if things were the same in Pedion? My father, who’d been so strong and healthy, had died from an infected cut that a Wound Weaver could have healed in minutes.
I walked around the camp until I found Braya. People watched me warily, including the tall woman she was talking to.
The woman Braya stood with was almost as tall as me. She wore leathers and a green shirt that contrasted with her bright-red hair.
‘I need to get back to my camp,’ I said.
Braya’s back was to me, but I suspected by the red-haired woman’s amused expression that she was rolling her eyes again.
‘Should I ask the general if he can find someone else to show me the way out of here?’
Braya spun around and scowled at me. ‘I will take you.’ She headed to the horses.
We rode together in silence, which I didn’t mind too much.
Although my shoulder and back felt better, it was late, and it had been a long time since I had slept, so fatigue tugged at my mind and limbs.
Then the rain started. It was only light, but it was chilling, and the parts that weren’t covered by my cloak and the sack grew damp and uncomfortable.
‘We are far enough,’ barked Braya. ‘You can take the sack off now.’
I pulled it off and peered through the dark at my riding companion. She looked as miserable as I felt.
‘I’ve never gotten to know someone else with powers before,’ I said. ‘Or at least I don’t think I have.’ Of course, Cursed women hid their abilities, just like Millie.
‘This place is unbelievable.’ She shook her head in the dark. ‘Is it true King Hared has been hanging Weavers?’ she asked.
‘Yes. I saw women hanging the day we arrived in Capita. The Order is also imprisoning and torturing innocent women accused of Cursing. Even our queen was tortured before she was killed.’
‘It’s not Cursing. It’s called Weaving,’ she barked at me. ‘They call it a curse to keep people ignorant and make sure women are powerless.’ Her disgust was apparent by the curl of her lip.
She was right to be disgusted. I wasn’t going to defend Pedion’s treatment of women. ‘Do women have power in Ephemeros?’ I asked.
‘They have more than they do here.’
‘You have the ability to move things like me. Can you turn things into ash?’ I wondered if our similar abilities were why Torgrin was never afraid of me.
‘No, I’m an Iron Weaver. I don’t know what you are,’ she said with a sniff.
‘I don’t know what I am either,’ I said bitterly.
The Wound Weaver had called me a Shadow Weaver, which did account for my ability to manipulate and produce shadows. It didn’t, however, explain how I could burn and turn things to ash.
‘How old were you when Torgrin left Ephemeros?’ I had guessed she was a few winters older than me, and Torgrin was twenty-three or twenty-four. I should at least know his age, I thought sadly.
‘I wondered how long it would take you.’ Braya scoffed.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, confused by her contempt.
‘I knew you would start asking about him because I bet he hasn’t told you shit about himself.’ She looked at me sideways.
I felt a shameful pinch in my stomach because, yes, he had barely told me anything about his past or his family.
She probably thought of me as some foolish girl desperate to save a lover who doesn’t feel as deeply.
Was that true? I was secure in my love with Cillian.
I had read about Torgrin’s feelings for me, but he had never said the words to me.
He desired and felt an attachment to me – but did he love me like Cillian?
Did it matter? The kiss we shared before he left, the look he gave me before he turned the corner.
It meant something to me. I cared for them both and would do anything to keep them safe.
I guess I was a lovesick fool.
‘Well, you can find your way from here. The inn is a mile down the road. We will meet you in Danu in two days.’ Braya turned her horse around and headed back the way we came.
I dug my heels into Nightmare’s sides in a hurry to return to camp.
Torgrin and Cillian had been at Merrick and the king’s mercy for five days now. I couldn’t let myself go to that dark place, the one that imagined what might have happened to them during that time.