Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ronan tears down the hill, flinging light into our attackers as our friends wake to find themselves surrounded.
There are at least twelve of them. They’re all dressed similarly in dusty brown clothes, Nithyrian possibly, but the clothes are too threadbare to be certain. It’s a cold morning, but none of them have cloaks, and most of them are without boots, even.
“How could we have missed them?” I say, pulling a woman away from Quinn with my shadows. We scouted the area before we made camp for the night from Kira.
“The caves in the hillside,” says Ronan as he draws his sword. “The ruins were empty.”
Kira screeches again and rears back, tearing a bandit woman’s hand off with her beak.
“See?” shouts Quinn from the ground, catching one of the attacker’s clothes on fire. “Bitey was being gentle.”
The bandits are severely outmatched by our group, even though they outnumber us. They have only a few weapons between them, and though several are fire-born, we manage to get by with only a few singed blankets and one ruined canvas between Taran’s water and my shadow.
And Typhon’s wind. I didn’t realize Typhon was wind-born until he puts his magic to use at last to extinguish the fire on the tent. “I’m sorry! I’m not very good with magic.”
“You’re doing great,” I shout back as I parry a blow from a rusted machete with my rapier. I jump back, using the rapier’s reach to keep me safe as Octavia steps behind the bandit, cutting his throat with her dagger.
“My blanket!” says Seth as the man collapses, blood pouring from his throat. “Taran, you’re needed—”
“Not now,” says Taran. He throws up a shield of water as one of the last attackers left standing pelts him with bolt after bolt of fire.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” says Seth, sending a single deadly bolt of his own fire directly into the man’s ear. The man collapses slowly, falling to the side as if his mind continued working for a moment after his head was cooked from the inside. “Now will you help?”
We don’t manage to keep any of them alive. Not that we’re truly trying; it’s clear they haven’t been sent by Adria, and judging from the desperate state of their clothing and lack of attempts to surrender, they had no intention of doing anything but fight to the death.
“Good morning to you too,” says Quinn once the dust settles, looking around at the damage.
“We should leave,” says Larus. “There could be more where they came from.”
“What a mess,” says Seth. He attempts to salvage the smoldering remains of the tent, but we’re down to just the single canvas for the rest of our journey through the mountains.
The part of the journey where we need protection from the elements the most.
“We should see if their camp is nearby,” says Octavia, saying what we’re all thinking. “They may have something there we can use.”
“And if there are more of them?” asks Ronan.
“I think we’ll manage,” says Seth. “How many could there possibly be?”
There’s no real way of knowing, but I also know it doesn’t matter.
There’s no way Ronan will agree to this. Maybe these people are lawless bandits, preying on those who are forced to take this path, but maybe they’re just desperate people living the only way they can. Killing them when they attacked us is one thing, but going after them is something else.
“Do what you will,” says Ronan. His eyes are on the place the temple should have been on the hillside. “But we should leave soon if we’re going to make it to the mountains before nightfall.”
I glance at Taran. He’s as disturbed as I am. “Are you sure?” I ask Ronan, squatting next to where he’s packing up our blankets. “You don’t think it might be risky?”
“I think we’re in a desperate situation without many good options.
I think if we’re unlucky on the mountains, we could die before we even make it to Pyka.
I think I’m tired of putting aside the needs of the people I care about to protect people who would cut their throats in their sleep.
We are at war. It’s time we acted like it. ”
“Ronan,” I say gently, reaching for him.
He brushes my hand away. “Not right now.”
I step back from him, chastened. He’s never been like this with me.
“Who’s coming with me?” says Octavia. Seth raises his hand, and Quinn volunteers to go on Bitey. Typhon declines, mostly because he knows he’s no use in a fight, but Larus agrees, shaking off my judgment.
“It’s survival, Sylvie. Do you want to see Faros restored?”
“Of course, but—”
“Then you have to survive to get back there, don’t you?”
I shake my head at him as he goes.
Part of me knows they’re right, but part of me can’t shake the feeling that who we are isn’t just the choices we make when it’s easy. It’s the choices we make when things are hard. It’s the things we do in order to survive.
I don’t know if I can be this person.
And I know Ronan can’t be. I know that he’s in a dark place right now, but I know this isn’t him.
I just wish I knew how to help him.
“Help me with the tent?” asks Taran, his eyes meeting mine.
I follow him over to the side of the hill where we’ve been doing the washing up, helping him hold up the remaining canvas while he washes out the bloodstains with his magic.
I look back to see if Ronan is watching us, but he’s still staring up at the temple.
“I’m worried, Taran,” I say quietly. “This isn’t like him.”
“What happened up on the hill?”
I do my best to explain, but truthfully, I have no explanation for what happened up there or why it has left Ronan so shaken. “Has he been like this before? Or did something happen to him up there?”
Taran pauses, water suspended above the canvas. “He was like this after his mother died. And then again after his father. He’s grieving.”
“But we can still get the city back. Your people will help, won’t they?”
Taran drops the water into the fabric, and I begin to scrub.
“Probably, although he may not like their terms. But it’s not the city or the crown that he’s grieving.
It’s the people. A lot of people died back there, people he’s responsible for.
It’s just going to take him some time to come to terms with it. ”
“It wasn’t his fault. It was mine for letting it get this far, or Seth’s for not realizing what Adria would do, or—”
“Don’t do that. I’ve been doing that for a month, and believe me, it doesn’t help.”
“What?”
“Trying to find someone to blame.” He looks off wistfully into the distance in the direction the others went.
In the direction Seth went. “You did what you did out of love. Seth did what he did—well, I’m not certain why he does what he does, but I believe him that he didn’t want this to happen.
It’s put his survival in jeopardy, and there’s nothing he cares about more than that. ”
“That and the state of his clothes. And his papers. And the tent, and the furniture, and whether his belt buckle has been polished, and whether the crust has been removed from his bread.”
Taran chuckles. “His life and how neat his living conditions are. Both things that are in dire straits at the moment. I can’t imagine he wanted this, no matter how much of a fool he may be.”
“I’m glad to hear you think he’s a fool,” I say.
I glance up at him, not wanting to push into his private life but feeling as though I ought to at least warn him about Seth.
“He likes you. He’s interested in you.” Taran’s face flushes.
“I know he has a funny way of showing it sometimes, but I’m pretty sure.
” I leave out the part where Ronan confirmed it. That’s our secret. “But he’s…”
“Flighty? Tempestuous? Possibly literally insane?”
“All of that, yes. I just…be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Taran smiles. “You have nothing to worry about there. I don’t get involved with people unless they can be serious. It’s just not my way.”
“Well then, there’s definitely nothing to worry about because Seth is about as unserious of a person as there is.”
We both laugh, but not for long. Neither of us can quite let our guard down here under these circumstances.
“Did you want me to leave you some water to wash up?” says Taran as we fold the canvas. Ronan has taken out his sword and is sharpening it on the ground with a stone from his pack.
“Please.” It’s been such a blessing having Taran along for our trek. Between the water to drink and the water to wash, he’s been using almost all of his magic every day, but it has made the journey infinitely easier than it would have been without him.
He fills a bucket in seconds. “The air is getting wetter again. I’m looking forward to being back in the forest. Although I’m not sure I’m looking forward to going home.”
“Why not?” I’ve never asked Taran much about his time with his people.
“There are just a lot of memories there. My entire tribe is gone. The tribe that runs Pyka, the Koraka, they’re the largest of the Orsa left, but they weren’t friendly with my people.”
“I didn’t realize the Orsa had separate tribes.” As I say it, my cheeks burn with shame. I knew so little of the people I had hated so much. “What was the disagreement?”
“The Koraka wanted to settle down, to found a permanent settlement and live like the Nithyrians. Farm the land, live in houses.”
“They got their wish.” We’re about to see what they’ve done with the home I grew up in. “Your tribe didn’t want that?”
“No. They kept the old ways. Living with the land instead of off of it. Following the game where it went, taking from plants where they grow. It caused conflict with Nithyria that Koraka ended up paying for more than most on account of their size. But still, they welcomed me back when I returned.”
“They gave you your tattoo.”
“They did.” Taran rubs the dark design on his neck. “But it didn’t feel like home. I’m a stranger there among my people.”