Chapter 18
Chapter eighteen
“For fuck’s sake, guys. Just leave him alone already,” Rynna grumbled, pushing one of the younger students aside with ease. The cream-colored tunic clung to her corded muscles as she moved between them and the red-headed boy they were taunting.
“Oh, come on, Rynna! He shouldn’t even be here,” the kid whined, rubbing his shoulder. “He’s a joke!”
“You’re a joke!” the imp yelled back. “I’ll be the strongest Hollow-born the world has ever seen!”
He lunged forward, aiming a wild kick at the name-caller’s legs, but his foot missed by a mile, throwing him off balance. With a loud thud, he hit the ground, landing square on his butt.
Rynna shook her head, looking at the bully. “Soren, you should worry about your own skills. Guide Brian nearly turned purple when you botched the basic drill earlier. You’re lucky he didn’t have you running laps until the moon rose.”
Soren’s face flushed crimson, his bravado crumbling as the group of kids around him snickered. He stammered, eyes darting to the ground, trying to save face, but Rynna had already turned her attention to the troublemaker.
“And Bran.” She looked over to see him making rude gestures at the other kids.
“If you want anyone to take you seriously, you’ve got to stop acting like an asshole,” she scolded, crossing her arms.
“What?!” Bran’s eyes widened as he scrambled to his feet. “Me? An asshole? Come on, Rynna. They were the ones being assholes!”
She couldn’t argue with him there. Sure, he was loud and annoying, but the cruelty people directed his way went beyond typical playground bullying, even from the adults. Still, she had to shake her head.
“But they’re not the ones trying to be the next Ember Warden, are they?” Rynna’s voice held a teasing edge, but she knew the weight of that title. The Ember Warden was the ultimate protector of their Reach, the one who could supposedly harness the elemental power of the Great Phoenix itself.
Bran blinked, frowning for a second before his face brightened with determination again. He quickly wiped the dust from his pants and caught up to her.
“Yeah, but it’s not fair.”
“What about this world has ever struck you as fair?” Rynna snorted.
He frowned, his expression unusually serious for a moment. “It shouldn’t be this way.”
“Who’s going to change it? You?” She gave him a sidelong glance.
Was this why she was here? To nudge and encourage the wild little gremlin?
“Just watch me!” He pumped one fist in the air as his other hand drifted to the Ember Reach medallion tied proudly around his neck. It was the same one he’d somehow earned the week before, despite pissing off nearly every Guide in the program.
“I can’t wait to see it,” she huffed a small laugh, though a hint of something—despair, maybe—slipped into her voice without her meaning to.
No matter how hard she tried to focus on her Mission here, she never felt fully grounded, like something was missing. A gnawing feeling between her ribs. Another memory she couldn’t quite grasp.
Bran’s face shifted, his exuberance cooling as he studied her. “Are all older people this grumpy? Is it an age thing? You’re not decrepit yet, but you’re not too far off.” He squinted at her, leaning in dramatically. “Wait. Is that a wrinkle?”
It had surprised her when the Elders of Ember Reach shoved her into the preparatory training program with a cluster of wide-eyed kids, after she’d wandered into a border town able to see the Source with no memory of her origins.
She knew she didn’t look eighteen, especially if anyone studied closely, but it was the oldest age they accepted for new recruits, and one didn’t waste resources, not on this world.
Either way, even if it was laughable, it was her place now. She should try to act the part.
“A wrinkle?” Fighting to keep the smile off her face, she watched as his cheeks tensed and he struggled to hold in laughter. “Well, do all fifteen-year-olds look like they’re constantly about to shit themselves, or is that just a Bran thing?”
For a moment, they stood locked in silence, shoulders shaking, struggling against the laughter bubbling up in their chests. Then Bran coughed—just once—and the dam broke. Rynna’s laugh tumbled out to meet his, and together they stumbled forward, doubled over.
As they gulped at the air, grinning, Bran wheezed, “Why are you so nice to me anyway? Everyone else around here is...well...”
She shrugged, collecting herself. “We’re both freaks. The village clown…and the girl nobody knows what to do with. Why else would they throw me into training with a bunch of younglings barely able to make an elemental breeze? No offense.”
“But everyone loves you, Rynna.” Bran puffed out his chest, but his brow furrowed in confusion. “You never cause trouble, and you already know all the techniques. The guides had you running half the classes before the assessment trials.”
“I dunno.” She glanced at the ground, kicking a stray rock. “I guess I’m just lonely. I like you guys; you’re good kids, but I don’t really belong anywhere yet. And I don’t know what the heck I’m supposed to be doing here.”
“I get that.” He swallowed hard, then brightened. “But tomorrow, we get our units! We’ll both have a place then! They’ll have to accept us!”
“You’re probably right.” She reached out and tousled his spiky red hair. “I guess, you’re not entirely hopeless for wee yougling.”
He swiped at her hand. “You’re not that much older!”
“I thought I was practically a wrinkly old lady, according to you!”
“Whatever, crone,” Bran shot back as he turned toward the small lodging hall that housed his narrow chambers. It amazed her that he was already living on his own, fending for himself.
“See you tomorrow,” she called after him. “I know you’ll be dreaming about getting into Elara’s unit.”
“Yeah, right!” he yelled, a blush creeping up the back of his neck before disappearing around the corner.
“Sure,” Rynna laughed quietly to herself, the sound barely carrying in the dry air. All the boys had crushes on Elara, and the girl barely noticed.
Sighing, she glanced up at the cliffs, where the rough outline of a great fire-born bird seemed to rise from the stone itself.
Her sharp, pointed nose caught the faint breeze as her dark blue eyes narrowed in thought.
No one in the Reach remembered how the carving had come to be, only that it had always been there.
It was another mystery she probably wouldn’t solve.
“Just what the heck am I supposed to be doing here anyway?” she asked the mythical bird.
It loomed over the territory, wings spread wide as if ready to fly at any moment from the white-hued crags. Below it, Ember Reach’s central settlement sprawled out in a maze of sun-bleached stone buildings and wooden shacks, the streets winding like rivers through the parched earth.
Maybe Bran’s right, she thought, though without much conviction. Maybe tomorrow will show me my path here.
She sighed, not feeling the least bit tired, and set off at a leisurely pace through the quiet alleys, sand-softened paths winding between low stone dwellings and the whisper of palm fronds shifting in the night breeze.
I wonder if things will be any different this time.
She’d been in similar roles before; different lives, different ages, but it was always the same.
She was the outsider, trying to fit into a new life on a new world.
Then came the struggle to save it, and on to the next. She’d done it hundreds of times.
Must be later than I thought. She pulled herself back to the present.
The faint smell of dried herbs and spices wafted from closed vendor stalls, lingering in the air as she passed.
The village, usually alive with the clang of blacksmiths and the chatter of merchants, now lay still under the weight of the rising moon.
She smirked, remembering how Bran had practically drained Guide Brian’s wallet during dinner, ordering course after course with wild enthusiasm.
It wasn’t until the tavern began closing for the night that the poor man finally ushered them out, insisting they get some rest before meeting their new Unit Leader the next day.
I just hope it’s not Guide Kora. Rynna cringed at the thought.
The one time she’d seen the woman, the word intense hadn’t even come close to describing her. But Rynna didn’t know any of the Vessels or senior Hollow-born, anyway, so it hardly mattered who it turned out to be.
Someone would need to keep an eye on Bran, though. If she wasn’t already in his unit, she’d need to figure out how to get there. It was just a gut feeling, but she’d learned long ago to trust her instincts.
When she looked up again, Ember Reach unfolded below her. Somehow, in her wandering, she had made her way to the top of the pale sandstone cliffs above the Great Phoenix.
“Damn.” She sank into a cross-legged position, leaning back on her hands, letting her eyes drift to the stars.
How long will I be under these ones, she wondered, when the sudden snap of a branch caught her attention, pulling her gaze to the hedges on her right. Who could that be?
Not that it was unusual for people to be out late. This was a hollow-born settlement after all, and nighttime comings and goings weren’t out of the norm.
Another sharp crack echoed through the night, and a masked man clad in the traditional Ember Reach leathers stepped into the moonlight.
Oh my, she thought, watching the deep brown ends of his hair flare blood-red in the soft light as the Ember Reach medallion at his throat caught the stars.
A cloth mask was pulled up over his nose, leaving only his eyes visible—one sharp brown and the other, pale and clouded like a storm frozen mid-turn.
Seeing her, he paused.
His fingers brushed the back of his neck in an almost sheepish gesture. “So sorry, miss. I didn’t realize anyone was up here.”