Chapter 22
The River, The Arrow, The Fire
“It is infrequent that Drakers are awarded the title of Oathkeeper. One must complete an extraordinary amount of quests, never failing at their duty or befalling to harm before they can be considered for such recognition.”
— A History of Drakers, by Louis Greystorm
Keeping up with a trained soldier was exhausting, and I wasn’t even carrying my bag. Kostini trotted along with the packs, while Riven kept his sword at his hip and bow on his back.
I focused on not falling behind.
The terrain was too treacherous for us to weigh Kostini down. I didn’t think walking would be so terrible, but I was mistaken.
In some areas, the snow was soft, thoroughly soaking me from knee to toe. I was thankful for the reprieve of solid ground whenever we found it, but my clothes never had enough time to dry.
“How much farther do you think?” I asked after hours of silence.
The sky was clear, so it was doubtful Riven would be up for an unnecessary inn stay.
He pulled out the map and closed it just as fast. “The ship leaves tomorrow at sunset. We must keep moving.”
I squinted as the sun reflected off the white sheet beneath us. “So, no inn?”
He kept walking ahead, perfectly avoiding any rough spots. “No, but you’ll have a bed on the boat.”
I knew nothing about boats. I had assumed I would sit in a seat like on a wagon the entire way to Castivian.
“I wasn’t aware boats had beds.”
He slowed, falling into place next to me. “Did you think everyone would sleep on the floor?”
My face fell. “I didn’t know there would be floor space.”
He laughed.
“What?”
He shot me a sideways glance and shook his head. “Nothing.”
I smacked him on the arm, which, to my surprise, hurt me. “Say it.”
“Is that an order?”
Two could play at that game. “Would you take one if it was, Rogue Draker?”
“Maybe from you.”
I don’t know what had possessed me, but even the ice up to my thighs couldn’t stop my face from flushing. I tucked a loose strand of hair back, pulling myself together.
Riven pushed on, picking up his pace and leaving me to fall behind again. He turned to check on me every so often, and when he did, I would catch myself longing for him to walk beside me.
Maybe spending days hanging from a tree had given me brain damage, or perhaps I was ill.
My mind wandered to Luna, and all of the things I would tell her if I ever saw her again. She wasn’t one to die. What adventures was she was having outside the walls?
When we finally stopped, it was only for water and for Riven to have a smoke.
My legs ached, but my feet were worse. How was I going to tell Riven I could not keep up like this? How was I supposed to meet my brother, who everyone regarded as a ‘great warrior’ when I could not even walk a day through snow?
I wanted nothing more than to take off my icy, wet boots and change into something dry.
God, I hated winter.
Riven exhaled a cloud of smoke before flicking the ash and pushing himself away from a tree. My legs had gone numb to the point I wasn’t sure I would be able to get back up.
“Ready?” he asked, peering down at me.
“I believe we’re only waiting on you.”
Several arduous hours later, Kostini and Riven were still doing fine. I was not.
The path became a downhill slope through the trees, and while I thought that would be a nice treat, it was the opposite. Keeping my balance was a feat, and my pace continued to drag. Riven slowed some for me, but even the horse easily kept ahead.
Pain may have radiated through me, consuming my weak body, but determination sang louder. I would not stop.
A day of discomfort would not kill me, but failing to make it to Castivian could kill thousands.
With every slippery, miserable movement, I picked which trees to balance against and what patches seemed the safest. Pure willpower took over, and time seemed to go by faster. As we continued down the hill, the snow lessened, and in some areas, the grass showed.
I carelessly stepped on a seemingly clear patch, but it was camouflaged ice.
My ankle rolled, and down the hill I went.
“That’s one way to catch up,” Riven said, lunging in a failed attempt to stop me.
I cursed and flailed as I slid past him, crashing right into Kostini’s legs.
Kostini bucked up in a panic. His hoof came down, crushing the center of my arm.
The crack and my following scream were deafening.
Riven raced down the hill, shooing Kostini back as I gagged in agony, holding my sagging arm as if it would mend the bones back together.
Crouched down, Riven surveyed the injury with a grimace, cursing under his breath. Not daring to touch me.
No matter how little I moved, every shattered piece of my arm wailed in misery. The King's Mark looked like a melted puddle, unrecognizable. I exhaled sharply through my nose, teeth chattering at the pain.
“I’m going to have to wrap it,” Riven said with finality, hopping up to get the pack.
As miserable as it was going to be, I did not hike through trenches of snow all day just to miss the ship over a broken bone.
Riven returned with two torn shirts tied together.
I held my wobbly arm out through the fiery pain. It was practically a sack of bones, with no proper structure.
“Just do it,” I said bitterly. I would not cower or allow myself to get queasy.
Riven delicately grabbed my arm and pressed it against my body, like it was something he had done before. I squeezed my eyes shut through the roaring pain as he wrapped the fabric, securing the injury.
Pain was no stranger, so through it, I endured. Riven tied a final knot as I gritted my teeth, then finally backed away.
The day had been absolute shit, and I was ready to be done traveling for good.
“Let’s just hurry up and get to the port already,” I mumbled.
Riven eyed me. “We can take a break first.”
It wasn’t much of a suggestion, as he was already pulling out a smoke.
I frowned.
“I don’t want a break, or to be in this goddamn forest anymore. I don’t want any of this. All I’ve ever wanted was a simple life. A home, freedom, children, food. Nothing crazy, but no. I get two shithead brothers who have all of the resources in the world but leave this wretched task to me!”
He took a drag. “Hm.”
“What?” I snapped.
He leaned against a tree, tilting his head to the sky and huffing a laugh. His dimple flashed.
“The sister of not one, but two rulers, just wants comfort,” he said curiously.
It did sound strange when he worded it that way, but Clarke wouldn’t be a ruler soon. He would be dead. His wife, Delaina, who sounded more and more like a miserable wretch, would be the ruler of Drakington.
As for Xavian Steele, he had better have something amazing to say after I crossed the Sea of Blades to bring him his deed. Otherwise, he would be no brother to me.
“I want to be done with this.”
Riven finished his smoke and offered to help me up, but I didn’t want or need it. I pushed on by myself, wincing and cursing as I trudged through the terrain, cradling my broken bone.
We made it less than an hour before Riven motioned for me to stop.
I stilled, carefully waiting. The trees rustled just ahead.
Riven took us another way. I wanted to ask if it would delay our arrival, but I stayed quiet.
A faint whistle flew over our heads.
A gold arrow struck the bark of a tree, narrowly missing us.
“Rogue Drakers?” I whispered.
Riven grabbed his bow. “No. Real Drakers. Run.”
“Run where?” My heart stammered. “I’ll get lost on my own.”
Another fast-moving hiss came towards us, and I turned on my heels.
I cried out, collapsing to the ground onto my broken arm.
With rage in his eyes, Riven rushed to my side.
An arrow was lodged in the back of my leg just like before, but this time it had not gone clean through.
“You’re worse than a training target,” Riven mumbled. “I’m pulling this out. We have to move.”
It hadn’t felt great going in, but having it come back out? Shouldn’t he cut it and leave the head in? What if I bled too much?
He yanked it before I could protest.
I shrieked as another arrow flew by our heads. My leg bled onto the virgin sheet of snow.
Riven tossed the broken shaft to the ground. “Run.”
Running seemed impossible. Holding my arm, I limped through the frosted trails. Kostini had taken off on his own, spooked by the arrows. Riven stayed back, choosing to fight. Part of me wanted to join him, but I’d already made it this far. I could keep running.
As I turned onto the path, four Drakers were ready for me. Golden masks, hoods, and armor hid their identities, but the golden falcon on their chests represented exactly who they were.
Three had swords, and one, a bow. Was he the shithead responsible for my leg?
He aimed his bow at me and drew it back.
“Yield!”
I couldn’t outrun another arrow, but surrendering was just as stupid. We’d come so far already. It couldn’t end like this.
An arrow blasted through the archer's neck—a clean, lethal shot. I whipped around and spotted Riven notching another arrow for the remaining three Drakers.
“Go!” he yelled.
Pain or not, I ran in the opposite direction.
Down and down and down the path I ran, letting adrenaline fade the limp away. The blood from my leg left an inky trail, but there was nothing I could do about it.
Swords clashed behind me, but I pushed on towards the sound of moving water ahead—a river.
I hobbled down the bank, reaching the edge only to discover there was no easy way around. I could swim well enough, but there was ice floating through the water, and I only had one working arm. The temperature alone would be unbearable.
Five more Drakers came running down the bank, swords in hand. “Get the Blackheart!” one ordered.
My orb flickered at my waist as I took the first step into the water, my ankles going numb.
“We’ll be okay,” I promised the orb, as if it were sentient. Maybe I was losing my mind.
By the time the water was up to my waist, Drakers were joining me in the river. They were too fast, and I could barely walk.
Think, think, stupid mind. Please, think.