Chapter 19
Swindling bards was never a good idea. Clever and sharp, their business revolved around sweet-talking people through words, gestures, and song. Lies came as easily to them as they did to me.
Ainwir had always said: Never trust a bard found outside a tavern. He would have been ashamed of how my heart soared to see one standing in the middle of nowhere.
Hearing a horse clopping through the woods, the bard in the patchwork sash and sharp feathered hat reached for the paring knife at his belt as though it would save him from bandits. Percy stared at us blankly before pointing at Seth accusingly.
“You’re. . . alive?” He gasped.
Seth nearly tossed me from the saddle in his haste to dismount. “Perse!” He shouted.
Athena stepped back nervously as Percy sprinted for Seth and tackled him in a hug that sent them both into the dirt. A thud sounded beneath my feet, and I twisted to watch the pair, my heart soaring.
“Get off me,” Seth’s voice was muffled. Writhing out of the bard’s vice grip, Seth pushed Percy off and stood, brushing himself off.
A smile washed over my face. Slipping from the saddle, I waited for the men to untangle themselves. Noticing me, Percy’s grin widened, and he grabbed me in a tight embrace. Giggling, I returned the hug.
Seth grabbed Percy’s arm and pulled him off me. “Are you alone?”
“No!” Percy looked elated, but his joy quickly faltered. “No. Come with me.” Tone growing grim, he beckoned for us to follow. “I was keeping lookout. I was hoping you’d turn up, but I can’t say I expected it.”
“What happened?” I asked, leading Athena over the rocky soil.
“We ran for our lives.” Percy walked backwards to face us. “Seraphim grabbed the horses, threw me onto one, and slapped its hindquarters. The rest is a blur.”
“You had the Bloodstone,” Seth said. “Did it work?’
Percy made a strange sound under his breath. “Ask Seraphim.”
He hadn’t mentioned the last of our party. Fear stabbed through my heart. “Did. . . did you find Eleos?”
“Yes,” Percy said. “I’d say he’s alright, but. . .”
“But what?” I blurted out.
“You’ll see,” Percy said quietly, turning around. He stepped off a ledge onto a wide, dirt path. The main road.
A bleak sight greeted us. Canvas and tents were scattered around the hillside, livestock roamed free, and wagons in various states of repair littered the road. A few men in armor patrolled the rough camp’s perimeter, guarding the haggard and frightened people within.
I glanced across the area, quickly noticing a great many injured sprawled across bedrolls. Some were missing arms, others looked like they’d been trampled underfoot, crushed.
“A lot of people were injured in the chaos,” Percy explained. “Others brushed with the Empty, and. . . not all of them made it out.”
A woman in a charcoal coat emerged from one of the threadbare tents, red braid waving behind her as she barked orders at a pair of guards. Handing Athena’s reins to Seth, I jogged toward her.
“Seraphim!”
Her faded blue eyes met mine and lit up. “Aethra!” She gasped, taking me by the shoulder, grinning. “We thought we’d lost you two.”
“We thought we lost you.” I countered, scanning the camp. “How did you escape?”
“The Empty always stops eventually.” Seraphim turned, and I noticed a streak of silver running the length of her braid. “Those closest to the town’s perimeter made it out, but not all in one piece.”
Looking up, I traced the path they’d taken, descending the mountain from where once a lively town had rested. Now, a hint of black colored the mountain’s peak, warning of the void you’d find in its place.
Gripping my arms, Seraphim whirled me around and pointed at one of the medical tents. “Go see Eleos. You’ll do him good.”
“Is he injured?”
“No.” She said softly, nodding for me to go.
Nervous, I hurried toward the tent, ducking under the rough canvas. My stomach churned as I looked over the patients. One man looked like he’d fallen from the cliffs; his bones were broken in several places. A young girl’s arm was crushed entirely, likely by a horse’s hooves.
I saw one of the people Percy had mentioned: a young man with a soft face whose left arm was completely missing. Even some of his shoulders had been consumed by the void. Faint flecks of white appeared on his tan skin and banded through his black hair.
When he awoke, would he be glad he survived?
Raising my eyes from the dismal sight, I noticed Eleos, who knelt over a young boy, gently talking with him as he set the boy’s broken arm. A horrible snap sounded, and the boy shrieked, all while Eleos quietly commended him for being brave.
I leaned on the tent’s support beam, waiting for him to finish. He wrapped the broken limb and pulled a blanket over the child, ordering him to sit still and rest.
Standing, Eleos ran a hand through his brunette waves. Blood splotched his white robes and stained his pale blue scarf. He glanced in my direction, sage-green eyes tracing over my face like he peered upon a ghost that haunted his every night.
“I’m glad-” I began.
Tripping over himself in his haste, Eleos crossed the gap between us, hesitating just before he reached me. Touching my cheek, he traced a hand down my face before pulling me into an embrace.
Overcome with relief, I melted against him, wrapping my arms tightly around him, fingers curling into his scarf.
I thought I’d lost him. Holding him now, I realized just how much I didn’t want to.
Eleos’ fear ran deeper than mine. I could feel it in his trembling fingers, in the desperation with which he clutched me. No one had ever held me so tightly.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“What for?” I asked gently.
Composing himself, Eleos pulled away. He ran a hand across his eyes. “We need to talk, but-” he looked around. “Not here.”
Nodding, I followed him outside, letting the tent flap close behind me. “I know a bit about healing herbs,” I said. “Want me to help gather some?”
“Good idea.” He touched my shoulder, leading me behind the tents into a patch of woods, where the foliage grew thick beneath the red canopies.
Kneeling, I scanned the grasses, spotting patches of gray-green leaves. Ainwir had plucked these whenever one of us was wounded. Unsheathing my blade, I carefully cut a few handfuls.
“I feel like I’m dreaming,” Eleos said, crouching by a cluster of wild sage. “Life dispels the Empty. That’s always been true.”
“Not anymore,” I said, “Which means-’
“Even the cities aren’t safe,” Eleos interrupted. “Nowhere is safe.” He stood, staring at me. “I hoped we could fix this. But what if we don’t have time?”
Remembering my flower, I shot to my feet and plucked the pale blue blossom from behind my ear. “There’s still hope,” I promised him, offering the blossom. “Look.”
Brow furrowing, Eleos inspected the flower. “Where did you find that? I’ve never seen one with that patterning.”
Flecks of red dotted the blue, like drops of my blood had fallen upon them. “Because I made it,” I said, tucking the flower into his scarf. “I destroyed the Empty. I made a path for Seth and me to escape.”
“You did?” he asked blankly.
I nodded, stepping back. “It’s still there, I think. A little trail of flowers through the dark.”
The glimmer of life returned to his beautiful green eyes. Beaming, he stuffed the sage into his pocket. “Can I see it?”
“It’ll have to wait.” Seraphim’s sharp voice sounded behind us. She stepped over a thick root. “We need to get these people moving.”
“Already?” I asked.
“Yes.” Seraphim dipped her head. “Come with me. I could use your help.”
“Where are we going?”
“Therapne.” She answered. “This place isn’t safe, and getting this sorry lot up won’t be easy.”
“Why do we have to rouse them? Surely the lord could order his men to form a caravan.”
“He’s dead. The lord’s estate was at the mountain’s peak. We’re all that’s left.”
Seraphim turned and strode away. I had to jog to keep up with her pace. “Listen, I have good news-”
“Will it save these people?”
I hesitated. “No.”
Seraphim smiled grimly. “Then it can wait. Wrangle the guards if you can; I’ll ignite the uninjured.”
“Lady Seraphim,” Eleos called. “Can. . . can Aethra stay with me?”
Pausing, Seraphim stared at him over her shoulder. She looked between us, pale blue eyes softening. “Alright. Percy can assist me, then. Why don’t you help Eleos arrange wagons for the wounded?” Touching my shoulder, she marched away.
Clutching my bundle of herbs like a bride’s bouquet, I cocked my head at Eleos. “Why do you need me?”
“I don’t,” he admitted. “But right now, I can’t let you out of my sight.”
“Afraid I’ll run off?” I joked. His dour expression didn’t lift, so I changed tones. “Are you alright? Percy said-”
“I’m fine,” he said. “Especially now that you’re here.”
“Alright. . .” I said, though I didn’t believe him. “Let’s go get those wagons, then.”
* * *
Stranded bands of refugees were tales often told in the Merchant Isles. Whenever a rural settlement fell, those who survived would funnel toward the nearest city. Year after year, the cities swelled as the rest of the world disappeared.
Never before had an outpost or a capital fallen to the Empty. This would mark a new, frightening chapter in history.
Rousing the injured and the despondent was not an easy task. Coordinating a confused, frightened group of people who had lost their leadership was entirely more difficult.
Not all of them had come. Some we left behind, for they refused to move. They’d given up.
Sighing, I traced my thumb across my brow. The noise and weeping from the camp had become overwhelming, and I’d needed a moment to myself. Our little band of thieves had been so busy becoming the new stewards of the refugees, we’d had no time to talk.
I stood by a small pond, watching ripples form on its surface. Living water, a pleasant shade of blue, giver of life. Mirror of the Empty, where in stillness nothing resided.