Chapter 38 #2
“First thing in the morning. Tell Pyetar and get ready,” Vaneshta said urgently, and then swung back toward the hall, gait slouched as she stumbled slightly.
She looked just like she did drunk. Iryana shook her head at the thought of why Vaneshta had developed that skill.
It was time to find Pyetar.
After leaving Lidishta on the small wooden platform up in the canopy, it didn’t take Iryana long to meet up with Pyetar.
“Let’s try to make good ground before we have to camp,” was all he said. It was almost the moonless night, almost the end of the Harvest Moon, and the night would be particularly dark.
She’d fallen in beside him, familiar with the way he moved through the trees by now. They were in a particularly beautiful valley; the leaves starting to change color at the ends of branches. Soon the whole forest would look washed in the colors of sunset.
Pyetar slowed, pulling out one of the charts Vaneshta had given them.
The good thing about intentionally disrupting the dakii’s paths was that one could mostly predict how they would change.
While Major Darish thought they needed a week to watch and re-chart them out, Vaneshta already knew what their movements would look like—at least to an extent—and she’d drawn up the charts for them already.
“She really could not have planned this better,” Pyetar mumbled.
Iryana smiled. “Vaneshta certainly earned her sergeant belt.”
Pyetar nodded, but then fell silent again. He’d been that way—absorbed in his thoughts—since they’d started planning.
Needing something to do to distract herself from the awkwardness between her and Pyetar, Iryana practiced with her forgings. She summoned her bow, now consistently able to form it already strung, and an arrow, nocking it as smoothly as she could and letting it fly.
Just a little longer, she pleaded, body straining as it flew and flew and—disappeared. Better than the last time at least, but she was far from a long-distance shooter.
Pyetar glanced at her, and she tried to ignore the attention, letting the magic of her forgings return to her. She took a steadying breath and prepared to try again. If she could get as fast as Mezhimar, she’d be happy.
Iryana sprung into action, her hands moving as if she already held her bow and arrow, sinking into that muscle memory. As her hands moved, she formed her bow and an arrow.
“Ow!” she gasped as the arrow didn’t nock right, the end smacking her in the face.
“You’ll get it eventually,” Pyetar said, choking on a laugh.
Iryana sighed. “Given that we’re planning to take Myura River by force, it would be nice if I could get it now.”
She’d worked through how long everything would take, but there was no wiggle room in the schedule if they were going to make it in time. And there was always the chance that winter came early. Sometimes they’d have all of autumn, both the Thatching and Falling Moons. Sometimes only the one.
When winter settled into that part of Istri, it would be sudden.
One morning she’d wake up and see thick frost on the ground that wouldn’t melt even during the sunniest parts of the day.
And then the next thing she knew, it would start snowing and snowing until everything was white.
The rivers would freeze over, all except for a small current at the bottom.
Without fire-forged gear and armor for all the soldiers, they couldn’t march an army to Myura River in winter.
“So,” Pyetar said softly. “What is your plan for after? If we succeed and put someone else in charge of the 18th?”
“Oh.” She winced slightly.
“You’re belted.” He looked at her waist, at the yellow-brown belt there. “You will always have a home with the 18th.”
She smiled, realizing how comfortable she’d grown at Myura River despite everything.
“The 18th has felt more like home than anywhere else in a very long time.”
“So, are you going to stay then?” He watched her reaction carefully.
“No,” she answered softly. “I am going to be moving into the family’s main house, actually. If all this goes according to plan.”
He was quiet for a while before asking, “You’re ready for that?”
She shrugged. “I have to be. I, uh—I’m Third of the Kleesold clan now.
” The only one she’d told so far had been Vaneshta.
“I mean, technically there is a ceremony, but we didn’t have time for that yet,” she continued awkwardly.
“But it was the best way to get the duchess off my clan’s back. To give us the time we need.”
“Heir to a guardian clan,” he mumbled. “I can see it, actually.”
She focused on the crunch of grass and sticks beneath her feet for a moment, trying to decide how to answer.
“Before my father’s injury… my grandmother was training me for it.” She sighed. “So I suppose it’s not that surprising even though it feels that way to me.”
He nodded.
“What about you?” she asked.
“What about me?”
“If Karvek is—taken out… will you leave? I know you’ve wanted to before.”
He stared between the trees for a long breath.
“I’ve been avoiding thinking about it, afraid to hope, I guess.
But yeah. There is nothing tying me to the 18th.
I don’t like who I’ve become to survive at the 18th, what I have to do.
I think it would be hard to change that, even with Karvek gone. Unless I leave.”
“I can understand that.” She really did. But the thought of him leaving, no longer being a half day’s hike away…
She thought about that as they continued to hike through the afternoon. Imagined what things would be like. It was hard.
She was almost too absorbed in her thoughts to recognize the sensation of her senses prickling.
“Pyetar,” she whispered, so low the slight breeze almost stole the words away entirely.
She grabbed his shoulder, stopping him.
Too quiet, he mouthed at her.
She nodded, turning toward the woods. They ended up back to back, watching the forest carefully. Silently. They didn’t dare move.
A branch cracked further down the path as, surprisingly, only a single dakya stepped into view. Pyetar formed his sword just as Iryana formed her bow and arrow, nocking and drawing it half-way.
It was huge, larger than most dakii she saw. Two twisted, curling sets of horns grew out of its head, one horn missing a tip like it had been snapped off.
The beast was too far away for her range with a forged arrow, but when it ran for them, she could hopefully down it before it even got to Pyetar’s range.
The beast seemed to consider them, its ink-black eyes calculating. Unease swam through her. What was it going to do? Was this a diversion while another dakya crept behind them? She didn’t think so, but she turned slightly, peeking behind them.
Then the beast did the last thing she would have ever expected. It turned and walked away.
Iryana just watched the spot where it had stood, not moving. Not releasing her forgings. Pyetar was a statue beside her. They stood like that until she heard a bird fly overhead.
“What the fuck,” Pyetar cursed.
“It walked away,” she gasped. “Decided we were too much of a threat and walked away?”
They exchanged confused looks.
“Let’s keep moving,” she mumbled, forcing her legs to come unstuck.
“Yeah.”
The strangeness of the dakya walking away clung to their minds, stilling their tongues through the hike. Till they lay side-by-side on a small platform up in the trees at the edge of River Brigade territory.
The thinnest layer of moonlight streamed down on them through the gaps in the leaves. Iryana’s cloak was wrapped around her to fight the cool night air. They hadn’t bothered changing for sleep, both still wearing half-armor in case they had to leave quickly.
“I don’t know if it’s better or worse,” Iryana mumbled, arms crossed behind her head. “The dakii gaining some self-preservation.”
Pyetar sighed, shifting slightly on the platform so that it creaked and swayed slightly.
“It’s been fifteen years. I don’t know why they are suddenly changing.”
“Maybe they will stop killing things just for the sake of killing them. Might make hunting a bit easier.” She hated running across dead animals in the woods, brutally killed but left there for the scavengers.
“I suppose we will have to wait and see.”
They fell silent for a while, listening to the wind rustling the trees. But Iryana couldn’t quiet her mind. There was so much riding on their mission, on getting more soldiers to march on Karvek.
“Do you really think the River Brigades will agree to help?” she asked.
“I’ve tried to talk to them about Karvek before.” His face grew weary. “They haven’t been in the strongest position, even united; their brigades and territory are small. If they think it’s too much of a risk, they won’t do it.”
“It’s better than letting war come to them though, right?”
“One of the King Commander’s goals is to avoid the kinds of territory battles that used to happen between the brigades.”
“That and to play King,” she grumbled.
She remembered seeing the King Commander, how he strutted himself around like a peacock. Surrounded himself with a mock-court.
“If my brother brings war to the River Brigades, the King Commander should step in.”
“Should…” she parroted. “Karvek is sneaky though; he could take out the generals and majors before the King Commander could march his army there, anyway.”
“All things Jesha and Nenad will have to weigh.”
“I’ve been wondering… How did you meet the other brigade leaders?” So much of Pyetar’s scheming was still a mystery to her.
“After I became a specialist and started my solo missions, General Pavoshol sent me to meet with them occasionally.”
“Ah.”
“I’ve known Jesha and Nenad since we were kids, though.”
“Really?”
He turned slightly, propping up his head with his hand. “We were all the kids of powerful generals, ideal playmates.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” And if he had a more personal relationship with them, hopefully he would have a better chance of convincing them to march on Karvek.
“Is that how—” She turned onto her side fully. “Is that how Karvek met the King Commander’s daughter? There’s history there, right?”
Pyetar groaned. “Never bring her up in front of Karvek.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
“Sometimes I wonder…”
She punched him in the arm, but not hard enough to hurt. Pyetar chuckled.
“Karvek has been obsessed with her since we were children.” Pyetar grew more serious. “Hid it for the longest time, but some soldiers found out after she rejected him publicly.”
She winced. “I’m amazed he didn’t have her killed.”
“You know my brother well.” He frowned as he said this, and Iryana could assume what he was thinking about. You don’t even know I just kissed your brother! At least she hadn’t told him the rest.
There was almost a question in that lingering silence. A tension in Pyetar’s face. As if he wanted to know but didn’t at the same time.
“You’ve done horrible things to stay in your brother’s graces, to limit the damage he does,” she pointed out quietly. “I’ve done the same.”
Pain flashed across his face.
“I still wish you’d listened to me that day…” Pyetar turned onto his back, gazing up at the stars. “Stayed at your post. But knowing you like I do now… there was no chance.”
“No, there wasn’t.” She turned her own gaze to the stars too. “I really don’t like it when you tell me what to do.”
He chuckled, the sound deep and wonderful, and she turned to look at him. Pyetar rolled his eyes at her. His lips were a wide grin, his eyes sparkling.
It took her breath away. She wanted to curl into his warmth, his broad chest against her, his muscles around her. Wanted to run her fingers along his head, through the short brown hair. Wanted to kiss him again.
Pyetar seemed to realize that, his smile slowly fading. The moonlight dancing in his eyes turned serious. Raw.
“We should get some sleep,” he said.
Iryana nodded.
She waited for his breathing to slow, and then she scooted closer toward the tree.
Loose fist pressed to the tree, Iryana tried to form her metal-forged dagger. The magic pulled at her, fought her command. Flickers of it formed in her palm and then flickered away just as easily. She strained and focused, panting, until finally the dagger formed, blade embedded in the tree.
Shaking slightly from the exertion and panting heavily, Iryana ripped the blade out.
It got a little easier every time, but it was so slow and required so much concentration that she worried it would never really help.
Practicing drained her so entirely that it was dangerous to do out in the woods where she might need her forgings at a moment’s notice.
But she worried that if she did not try, she wouldn’t be ready.
That at some point, the only thing between her and death would be that little trick.