“It didn’t have to happen to me.”
The ghost’s green eyes were soft with an understanding Emeline wouldn’t have expected to see in them.
“It did,” the ghost woman said, “and I’m sorry it did. No one should have to go through what you did.”
Emeline pressed her lips together, fighting back more tears. She’d cried enough as she endured those men lying atop her, forcing themselves into her. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Ever. She waited until she felt her control return, then looked around quickly to make sure no one noticed her speaking to a shadow before replying.
“If it will be like this, I cannot continue and do what you want.” She shifted on the ground and immediately felt the pain of the movement between her legs. “I would rather be dead.”
The ghost put her hand on Emeline’s shoulder, the touch of it surprising in its solidity. “Think of your mother and father. And Iana. What will happen to her if you give up and Khirro fails?”
Emeline closed her eyes and remembered the ruined town, the villagers burning their dead. It could easily have been her parents' village. But could she really do anything to prevent it?
“I can’t,” she said, eyes still closed. “I’m not strong enough.”
“Yes, you are.”
Emeline opened her eyes again and peered into the ghost woman’s understanding face. “How do you know?”
“Because I have seen others like you who didn’t think themselves brave, yet have shown courage beyond compare.”
“Khirro.”
“Yes, Khirro. Something you have not considered: you now know what it is like to be raped. For a year, Khirro has carried around with him the idea that he did that to you. Can you imagine how it made him feel?”
Emeline sighed a slow breath and thought about lying on the ground, a stranger pressed inside her, wishing it would be over. She thought about how helpless she’d felt.
“Yes, I think I do.”
The ghost woman nodded and stood. “Then you know you can do this. For the kingdom, for your family, for yourself. And for Khirro.”
The sky lightened further and the ghostly form faded.
“Yes,” Emeline said to the spot where the woman had been standing seconds before. “Yes, I can.”
“Who are you talking to, wench?”
The soldier’s hand rested on the buckle of his belt. Was he putting it on or taking it off? Emeline didn’t know, nor did she answer. She closed her eyes and turned her head away, waiting for whatever might come next because she knew, no matter what it was, she would endure.
She had to.
Chapter Eleven
No one had passed their hiding spot crouched in the bushes at the verge of the forest for more than an hour, but Athryn insisted they wait longer, both to ensure their safety and to let the boy rest. Khirro fidgeted and looked at Graymon curled on the ground between them. Even in sleep, his face showed the strain of his experiences. After all he’d been through himself in the past months, Khirro could imagine what it must have been like for the boy.
“I don’t understand why it worked, Athryn,” Khirro said shaking his head. “I drew blood for you, but I obviously didn’t die, yet you cast a spell.”
“You did not die, my friend, and thank the Gods for it, but death walked all around us.” He leaned forward and peered along the road. “Those soldiers were already dead.”
“Their death and my blood.” Khirro touched the bandage covering the cut on his forearm and winced. “How did you know it would work?”
Athryn leaned back and looked into his companion’s eyes. “I did not know it would.”
Khirro’s gut clenched; he raised his head and stared at the magician. “You didn’t know?”
You risked my life.
Athryn shook his head.
Khirro opened his mouth to protest about the magician taking his life in his hands, but stopped himself before he spoke. What choice did they have but to take such chances? If he didn’t, either they or the boy or both would have been dead, and the journey would have come to a premature end-no different than if Athryn had done nothing. Khirro decided not to say anything about it.
“We should move out,” he said instead. “Before anyone else comes.”
“They are already coming.”
Khirro stared at Athryn for a second, then pivoted to look down the road. At first he didn’t see anything as the gray of dawn leeched color from the world and smeared shapes together. He squinted to focus, looking for any movement on the dirt track, until he realized the reason he didn’t see anyone was because he looked in the wrong place. A figure moved through the brush at the side of the road, swinging his sword to cut a swath before him, but still far enough away that distance hid the sound of his blade shearing through the brambles.
Looking for something. For us.
Now he’d spied one man, Khirro saw others-three Kanosee soldiers on each side of the road, and more might be hidden in the trees. All of them walked slowly with their weapons in hand, eyes turned to the ground in front of them, searching.
“They’re looking for us,” he whispered leaning over the sleeping boy so Athryn would hear him. “We have to go.”
“If we go, they will see us.”
“They’ll find us if we stay.”
Athryn sighed quietly, seeming indecisive for the first time Khirro could recall. “They must have found the wagon,” he said.
Khirro barely heard him, his mind working through possible escape routes and finding precious few options. If they made a run for it along the road, the soldiers would surely see them, especially with a half-asleep young boy in tow; the tangle of forest at their backs was too thick to move through without creating noise that would expose them. But staying put wasn’t a viable option, either. Not unless…
“Can you see if they’re undead?”
A few seconds passed with no response from the magician. Khirro considered asking the question again, but Athryn held up a hand, stopping him before he spoke.
“At least one I can see. Why? We know how to dispatch the dead ones as easily as the live ones.”
“I’m not thinking about fighting them; we don’t know how many there are and it would be dangerous for the boy.” Khirro paused, considering options other than the one on the edge of his lips, but made himself continue before he changed his mind. “In Tasgarad, you cast a spell to hide us in the alley. Can you do that again?”
Athryn pivoted to look at Khirro. “I can, but I will not.”
“What? Why not? It’s our only chance.”
“I cannot be sure it will work. They are still far away, perhaps too far for me to draw power from the death that follows them.” He paused and his gaze met Khirro’s. “And I do not want you to end up like Maes.”
Khirro’s face cinched down in an expression of non-understanding. Athryn had been willing to risk it before to rescue the boy; why not to hide them from their pursuers?
What does he mean he doesn’t want me to end up like Maes? Dead?
He glanced down the dirt track again. Even with the sky growing lighter as the sun inched its way over the horizon, it still took him a moment to pick out the soldiers searching for them amongst the tall grass and brambles. They moved slowly, but they were closer.
“Athryn, they will find us, then all will be for nothing.”
The magician stared at him, his expression hidden by the black cloth mask covering his face, but Khirro thought he saw struggle in his eyes and imagined that, if he saw beneath the cloth, he’d find concern, fear and doubt. The thought made him shift uncomfortably.
“One slice of a knife won’t kill me.”
Athryn’s gaze dropped to the ground. He transferred his weight from one foot to the other-thinking, struggling-then looked back at his companion.
“For years, Maes cut himself in the service of magic, without a word of protest. I never stopped to ask him how he felt about it as he scarred himself for me.”