Chapter 23
Chapter twenty-three
“That was the coolest…thing…ever!” Bran shouted as he jumped into the air for what had to be the fiftieth time since they’d landed on the other side of the Waygate.
Nearby, Elara and Taren exchanged a glance, both trying to play it cool and failing. Elara crossed her arms and huffed as Taren pretended to examine his gear, their mouths twitching as if fighting back grins.
Rynna nudged the girl with her shoulder. “Come on, you know that was pretty cool. I mean, we practically flew here at hyper-speed!”
Taren’s lips quirked upward. “Yeah, fine.” His voice couldn’t quite mask the excitement. “It was…okay.”
“Okay?!” Bran whirled around. “You guys are nuts. That was amazing!” He spread his arms wide, moving in quick bursts around the clearing, mimicking the sensation of the Waygate’s flight.
“Whatever.” Taren rolled his eyes again.
Mouth turning up as she watched her friends, her gaze found Fenn standing a little ways off, studying the map with Gran Hesta. No doubt, he was already plotting out the next leg of their journey.
She sauntered over, rising on her tiptoes to peek over his shoulder. “Where to next, boss?”
Fenn tensed at her proximity, his shoulders stiffening for just a moment before he relaxed. Rynna noticed the way his hand hovered for a second, like he was about to reach for her but thought better of it.
“Rynna, do not call me that. I am your Unit Leader, Guide, or Vessel.”
“Sure thing, boss.”
He isn’t just going to pretend last night didn’t happen, is he? she asked herself. She hadn’t been able to sleep a wink after Bran’s sleep-talking had disturbed whatever the hell had been happening between them.
Gran Hesta grumbled about kids not respecting their elders anymore, then winked at Rynna, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes.
Fenn ignored them both, focusing on the map. “It looks like we need to follow this tributary of the Great River for maybe two or three days. It’s hard to tell.”
I guess so. He ignored her, as usual, as if the moment in the barn had never existed.
Rynna leaned in, trying to control her annoyance with the man. “Hmmm, so why isn’t Fallowmere clearly marked? We don’t want to just stumble onto the bandits.”
“Excellent question, my dear,” Gran Hesta interjected, shooting a pointed glare at Fenn.
“Because, Rynna.” Fenn glanced up as the rest of the unit joined their huddle.
“The independent territories between the Reaches are often not considered when making things like maps. Their borders change with every conflict, and their villages, often caught in the crossfire, are left to fend for themselves while the Reaches negotiate treaties.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” Gran Hesta snorted. “We pay for most of your precious missions, but since we aren’t Hollow-born and have no Source power, you don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to us.”
“We’re not all like that,” Elara squeaked, her voice small.
Gran Hesta’s eyes narrowed, and for a moment, it looked like she was about to unleash a tirade on the girl. Her lips parted, her face hardening, but before she could speak, Fenn intervened.
“There are enough people among the Reaches who think this way, Elara, to make life difficult for non-Hollow-born villages.”
Elara’s brow furrowed, her hands twisting together nervously. “It can’t be that bad…”
“It is,” Taren said quietly, his words drawing surprised looks from the group. His face remained unreadable, but there was a tension in his posture, his arms locked over his chest.
“Go on.” Guide Fenn turned to him.
Taren hesitated for a moment before speaking, his nose crinkling. “Their food and homes get taken for our armies, and their villages become battlegrounds. We protect our own, but they’re left to pick up the pieces. We’re not always the good guys, no matter what the Ember Warden says.”
“I don’t believe it.” Elara looked around the group.
Rynna glanced at Taren. She knew his parents had been branded traitors and executed when he was small, which explained why he was always so serious and dedicated to his training.
What’s his full story? she wondered, not for the first time.
“It’s not…untrue,” Fenn said softly, placing a reassuring hand on Elara’s shoulder. “But we haven’t had a war of that scale in over forty years, and Ember Reach has made many changes since then.”
Taren turned his head slightly, his jaw tightening, but he remained quiet.
Gran Hesta gave the boy a small nod. “At least some of you young ones see the truth. Perhaps things will change in the future.”
“They will,” Bran said, his wide eyes full of serious resolve. “You have my word, Granny.”
The old woman gave a respectful bow before turning and walking down the path Fenn had pointed out earlier.
They hiked for most of the day, their footsteps taking them into the wetlands that stretched between Pulse Reach’s towering forests and the wide, open plains of Tide Reach. The air grew thicker as the landscape morphed into sprawling marshes.
When the sun hung low in the sky, casting long, golden beams that slanted through the trees and hinted at the approach of late afternoon, Fenn finally stopped them.
“This is a good place for camp,” he announced.
“But we’ve got a couple more hours of light,” Bran protested, his voice edged with weariness as he wiped the sweat from his brow. “We could make it there before tomorrow.”
“It won’t do us any good if we arrive exhausted,” Fenn replied, his tone firm. “The bandits may not have Source power, but there’s still too much we don’t know. It would be unwise to reach them and not be ready for a fight.”
“But…” Bran started.
“He’s right, kid,” Gran Hesta said, sinking onto a nearby rock with a weary sigh. “As much as I want to get there as soon as possible, we’d be putting the people at more risk if we show up unprepared.”
“If you say so.” Bran shrugged off his pack.
The group set to work setting up camp on the edge of a steep drop, where the land sloped into the swamp below.
They laid out their bedrolls cautiously, the dampness from the nearby marsh clinging to the air, making everything feel slightly sticky, while the earthy scent of moss and wet leaves filled her nose.
The view from the precipice stretched far across the marshes, but the Novices were too tired to appreciate it. They settled in quickly, the tension of the long hike easing from their shoulders as they began to relax, pulling out rations to eat.
“Oh.” Fenn looked up from where he was spreading his own mat and blanket. “You didn’t think we were done for the day, did you?”
Is he serious? Rynna thought as Elara groaned beside her, tucking away the cheese ball she’d been about to eat.
“What now, Guide Fenn? No more map lessons, please,” Bran complained, joining the others as they gathered around their Unit Leader.
Fenn scratched the back of his head, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Well, you’ve all been hounding me to teach you more about Source power and the various Hollow-born techniques that use it. But you can have the rest of the day off if you're too tired.”
Smiling, Rynna watched as the three younger Novices practically exploded with renewed energy, springing to their feet and assuring Fenn they were more than ready.
Up until then, Fenn had focused most of their training on formations, teamwork, and recognizing the flow of Source power within their bodies for better control.
It was basic work they’d covered in early training, but he pushed them further, making them repeat the exercises in challenging environments that tested both their concentration and stamina.
One session had even involved maintaining focus while balancing stacks of books on their heads and being chased by a herd of wild horses.
“All right, if you’re all sure you’re up to it, we’ll get started,” Fenn said. “As you know, there are three main methods for using the Source as a Hollow-born.”
“Mind, body, and element,” Elara chimed in immediately.
“Yes.” Fenn nodded. “Simply put, mind techniques allow you to sense and confuse the enemy.
Body techniques can enhance speed and strength, sometimes to very dramatic results, or be used to aid a comrade's recovery. And element techniques use the Source to harness the five elements and manipulate the external environment.”
“Fireball!” Bran shouted, his eyes lighting up. “Are we going to learn how to throw fire like the Great Phoenix?!”
“No,” Fenn replied, his tone dry as he began pacing around them, his hands clasped thoughtfully behind his back. “We’re going to learn something much more difficult.” He paused for effect. “And far more useful.”
“More difficult than a fireball?” Brows furrowing, Bran crossed his arms.
Fenn stopped at the edge of the drop-off, leaning back on his heels, eyes gazing out over the expanse.
“The challenge with fire techniques isn’t about performing them,” he said, his tone more measured now.
“It’s about knowing when to use them.” He glanced back at them with a wry smile.
“But for today,” he continued, taking a deliberate step backward.
Elara gasped as he went over the edge. “Guide Fenn!” She ran after him. Even Rynna’s heart picked up a beat, though she knew he was likely fine.
They rushed to the edge after him.
This better be part of the training, Unit Leader, Rynna thought, her stomach twisting in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.
When they peered over the edge, Fenn sat there casually, his back resting against the cliff wall, one hand raised above him, fingers skimming the rock. No handholds or ledges were visible, and nothing explained how he was suspended in place.
“Guide Fenn!?” Elara called. “Are you okay?”
“What?” Fenn glanced up, blinking as if just noticing their presence. “Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just observing the terrain below.”
“Show off.” Taren crossed his arms.