Chapter 20
Kiera
The snow followed us to Yargoth. It was beautiful the way it coated the forest’s branches and muffled the horses’ hooves.
I had my own horse now. A dark brown one with a black mane and tail named Ozlow.
The day before we left the village, Nikella and a Teacher named Silas had divided up the possessions of the dead. I’d learned it was customary as the Dags were not a wasteful people.
Nikella handed me Ozlow’s reins, saying she’d chosen him for me because of his gentle temperament and small, but hearty size.
He’d belonged to an Urzost warrior woman.
He’d stared at me with his big brown eyes, and I swore I saw sadness in them.
I kissed his nose and promised I would take care of him.
Nikella also gave me a set of steel throwing knives with leather grips and a brace, as well as a sword and a bow with arrows. She said I would need it all for our journey ahead.
The rest of our warriors were similarly re-outfitted.
Then came the matter of the dead Wolves and their gear. After much shouting between clans, the Yargoths and the Urzosts won out, and the Berengars—the clan who’d ridden to their aid—left in a huff.
The Dags stripped the Wolves of their clothes and weapons and burned the bodies in an unceremonious heap. They carted the unbreakable weapons and armor to the sea and threw them in.
They wanted no part of anything mined by their captive brethren. Something the Berengars—who lived much deeper in the north—wouldn’t understand.
Nikella asked them to spread the word to the other clans about what had happened. Perhaps she hoped they would rally behind the Yargoths and the Urzosts and fight against Renwell. But I doubted they would.
Most people didn’t act until the enemy was on their doorstep.
But the Berengars had stopped hunting to aid the village without question, so perhaps there was hope yet.
We’d left the next day at a silent, unhurried pace. So much different from the one we’d kept on the way here.
We’d lost ten of our party, plus a few too severely injured to travel. We rode a fair distance apart, as if keeping gaps open for the missing riders.
I hadn’t spoken to Aiden since our river swim. I hadn’t slept next to him either. I’d laid my mat next to Nikella the last few nights, even though sleep was difficult to come by.
Especially after she told me that Aiden was putting together a plan for Calimber. She’d seemed pleased that I insisted on joining.
She hadn’t started training me yet. But she rode next to me, instructing me on my form.
I’d griped, asking if there was a technique to make my ass hurt less.
“Practice,” she said.
The only bright spot of our snowy journey back to Yargoth was holding throwing knives again. I practiced with them every time we stopped, using a tree for a target.
It also seemed to cheer the Dags up a bit because they appreciated my skill and enjoyed a good-natured competition with me.
I only wished I weren’t shit at every other weapon.
My fingers had itched with desire as I’d watched the Dags cart away the sunstone weapons. That sword had been so easy to wield. So deadly. It would’ve been child’s play to steal one from the cart.
But keeping it hidden would’ve been much harder, so I let it go. Yarina had given up her stolen sunstone gauntlet much more unwillingly.
As we neared the Yargoth camp, I smelled smoke once more. But this time it was just from a campfire. Yet, memories of the burning village persisted.
Children on fuzzy ponies alongside barking dogs raced out to greet us.
I urged Ozlow to hurry through them, unwilling to watch the joy and grief about to spill forth. But their cries still pierced my back like a dozen arrows.
I took my time putting Ozlow in the paddock and caring for him as Nikella had taught me. I’d discovered that my horse loved to be brushed, especially along his strong neck.
The others tended to their horses as well, but hurried toward the bonfires, where the smell of cooked meat beckoned.
When I felt I couldn’t delay any longer, Nikella joined me by the fence.
She tapped me on the shoulder with a wooden practice sword, a second one gripped at her side. She also had her staff tucked under her arm as if she couldn’t bear to part with it, even in the serene Yargoth meadow.
“Time to practice.”
I frowned. “Now? It’s almost dark, and I haven’t eaten all day.” And my whole body ached from riding Ozlow.
“Doesn’t matter,” Nikella said, her eyes gleaming in the sunset. She tossed the sword, and I instinctively caught it. “Your enemy will not wait for daylight or a full stomach. They will want to attack you when you’re at your weakest.”
I swung the wooden sword in a few test arcs. It was heavier than the sunstone sword, but so was the steel one at my hip. My movements tugged on the tight scab across my shoulders. I prayed it wouldn’t start bleeding again.
“We aren’t going to war just yet,” I reminded her.
Nikella strode a few feet away, her boots leaving faint prints in the dusting of snow. “When we go to Calimber, we’ll likely run into the Rellmiran border patrols that stand between us and the mine. They will not hesitate to attack a group of armed Dags.”
I pulled up short. I hadn’t thought of border patrols.
Rellmirans. Fighting and killing Shadow-Wolves didn’t prick at my conscience because they were murderous mercenaries.
But Rellmiran soldiers? They were usually young men enlisted from farms in Pravara, ranches in Winspere, and the streets of Aquinon.
My empty stomach rolled when I remembered Shayn and the other guards Father had banished on my account. Gods, that seemed like a lifetime ago, but they might still patrol Rellmira’s borders. Which borders, I didn’t know.
“I don’t want to kill Rellmirans,” I said stiffly.
Nikella gently laid her staff aside, then twirled her practice sword in graceful circles. “You can try not to. But you will have to fight if you want to defend yourself and others.”
That was my goal. But I’d been picturing a fight between me and Renwell, not me and dozens of my people.
“I don’t want to be like him,” I whispered. “Killing anyone who gets in my way.”
I didn’t have to say his name. Understanding flickered in Nikella’s eyes.
“Who we are is a choice,” she said. “Renwell chose to be who he is. I chose to be the opposite of who my family wanted me to be. You can do the same. You already have.”
She stepped closer to me and tapped two fingers on my chest. “Remember, what grows from your heart”—she tapped my forehead—“feeds your mind and strengthens your hand.” She gripped my sword hand and angled my sword up.
I nodded, silently repeating the words and storing them away. “Did the Teachers at the Temple tell you that?”
A rare smile flashed under Nikella’s hood as she backed away. “No. A gladiator from Keldiket did.”
My eyebrows shot up, and I opened my mouth to ask the dozen questions that flooded it.
But Nikella barked, “Attack!”
I obeyed, lunging forward and clumsily swinging my sword. Nikella twisted out of the way.
“Again,” she commanded. “Until you strike me.”
Gritting my teeth and trying to ignore my stiff muscles, I tried again and again. Sweat trickled down my hairline and stuck my skin to my clothes.
But Nikella was faster than the Wolves. As fast as her brother.
She blocked my strikes a few times, but didn’t taunt me. Didn’t use her strength against me.
Our boots kicked up a bald spot in the snowy meadow at the edge of the woods. The silver and indigo of the night played tricks with my eyes. But Nikella always seemed to sense my next move, anyway.
“Enough,” she said.
I immediately bent double, trying to catch my breath.
“You’re fast and agile,” she continued over my panting. “Your footwork is decent, and I know from watching you throw knives that you have a good eye and quick fingers.”
I stared up at her in disbelief. My only other fighting instructor had been Renwell, and compliments were certainly not his way.
“But your arms need to be stronger to compensate for the weight of the sword.” She tossed her sword from hand to hand, spinning it and whipping it around her body as if it weighed nothing. “It should feel as dexterous as another limb.”
“Right. Another limb. Understood.” Gods, I hoped there was some food left. Maybe I could eat it in bed so I could fall asleep immediately after.
“You’re also hesitating. You don’t want to hit me, which I appreciate, but I’m not the one you need to be ready for.”
I slowly straightened, the wound across my shoulders itchy. “I won’t hesitate fighting Renwell.”
“With him, it will be the opposite problem. You will be emotional. Emotions make you messy. He will taunt you until you wear yourself out.”
“And how do you plan to prepare me for that?” I asked. I couldn’t imagine her being as nasty as Renwell.
She shrugged. “I have an idea we’ll try out later.”
Well, that sounded ominous.
“It’s too dark for bow training.” Nikella dropped her sword in the wet grass. “But I would like to test your skills without a weapon. As that often happens in battle.”
I bit my lip, then tossed my sword aside. “Renwell taught me a few tricks, but he thought it was a waste to teach me more. He told me I wouldn’t win against a stronger person. Therefore, I should always strike from a distance, like with my knives.”
“He lied to you,” Nikella said simply. “He wanted to keep you weaker than him. A good teacher wants you to be stronger.”
I’d surmised as much for myself after he put my throat under his boot heel. Twice. I couldn’t imagine being stronger than Nikella.
But I’d do everything she said if it meant I got close.
“Now, I’m going to grab you, and you have to free yourself.”
I swallowed hard and bent my knees, hands at the ready.
A twig snapped in the forest.
Both Nikella and I whirled to peer between the shadowy trunks. The snow that had fallen through the foliage gleamed. But I didn’t see anyone or anything.
“Perhaps it was an animal,” I whispered.
Nikella shook her head. She slowly bent to pick up her staff. In one smooth, silent movement, she unsheathed her spear. Had she been expecting an intruder?
I picked up my sword, the wooden grip clammy in my hand.
Another twig cracked, followed by a soft whinny.
My breath caught. A horse. With a rider? How many?
“Alert the others,” Nikella said out of the corner of her mouth. “We—”
A horse burst out of the forest, a rider slumped on its back.
We sprang out of the way as the horse snorted and pranced in the snow. With a tangled mane and muddy coat, the poor creature looked like he’d been traveling for weeks.
I peered into the woods, but no one else came through.
The rider started slipping sideways toward me. Dropping my wooden sword, I caught the person about the shoulders, and Nikella helped me slide the body to the ground.
The rider’s hood fell back. My heartbeat came to a crashing halt.
“Oh, gods!” I cried out. “Ruru!”