“A magician seeks knowledge wherever he can find it.”
“Even from a dead wizard?”
Athryn shrugged.
“Do you have to wear that mask?”
“Does it bother you?”
Khirro shifted from one foot to the other and, realizing he still held the Mourning Sword unnecessarily, he slid the weapon back into its scabbard. What did it say about him that he had found the ability to forget he held a sword in his hand?
“A little. Why do you still wear it?”
“Anonymity is a provocative habit.”
Khirro strode across the small clearing to where his backpack lay already packed and slung it over his shoulder.
“Who do you have to be anonymous from?”
“One never knows. We are in Kanos now.” Athryn took the mask off and stowed it under his cloak. “Better?”
“Yes. Thanks.”
“Then we should be off.”
The magician grabbed a handful of boughs from their lean-to and distributed them around the area, tossing them on the ground and into the brush. Khirro helped, the two of them doing their best to hide evidence of their presence. When they finished, he surveyed the clearing; the lean-to was gone, but anyone with half an eye would see the beaten-down grass, the broken-off limbs. Even Khirro could tell they’d been there, but it would have to do.
He harbored no suspicion anyone followed them. The residents of Poltghasa likely wouldn’t bother with them, were probably happy to be rid of them after seeing the flaming tyger. The lack of pursuers was small consolation, however, considering they made their way through Kanos, the very country at war with Erechania.
Khirro swallowed hard and followed the magician out of the clearing. The day was cool and sunny, a good day for traveling. As they left the camp, Khirro peered back over his shoulder again. For a second, he thought he saw a shimmering in the air, a distortion as if something was at the edge of his vision but disappeared upon his notice. He blinked and checked again but saw nothing unusual.
“Magic,” he muttered and made his way into the brush and deeper into enemy territory.
Chapter Three
Lehgan stared at Emeline sitting in the rocker. Her body ached to fidget under his gaze, but she didn’t let it; she didn’t even rock the chair to calm Iana wriggling in her arms.
“I don’t understand,” he said finally. “Winter is nearly upon us. This doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know it’s hard to understand, but we must do this.”
“Ridiculous.” He stood suddenly, his voice rising with the movement, and Emeline cowered against the back of the chair. Lehgan had never struck her, but she knew his temper could be fierce. “You want to risk our lives because of something you were told by a….a ghost?”
“She… it… I know it’s hard to understand but-”
“Hard to understand? Do you jest? You say a ghost visited our home, begged for your help. It’s not hard to understand, it’s unbelievable.”
“Lehgan, we have to-”
“We have to nothing,” he barked and clapped his hands together making Iana jump in Emeline’s arms. “We are staying here.”
Emeline rose from the rocking chair, her face set in a firm expression, her teeth clenched. She stared directly into her husband’s eyes without wavering.
“I am going to the Isthmus Fortress. My daughter is coming with me. Will you come and protect your family or stay here to keep the chickens fed and an empty house warm?”
Anger smoldered in his eyes and the muscles in his jaw flexed and released, flexed and released as he debated the issue with himself, but he must have recognized her determination because he kept his displeasure from passing his lips and perhaps saying words he’d later regret. A surge of love tingled her limbs but her expression remained firm.
“If you must go, I’ll go with you,” he said between clenched teeth. “But I don’t like it.”
Emeline crossed the floor to her husband, gazed up into his eyes and allowed her expression to show some of the appreciation and love she felt. It was a ridiculous request, it didn’t make any sense. She hardly believed she’d found the nerve to ask it of him, but as ridiculous as it seemed, she knew they had to go. She laid her free hand on his chest as she bounced their baby in the other arm.
“He’s your brother. He needs our help.”
“Hmph.”
Khirro and Lehgan had never been close, so perhaps it wasn’t the best way to convince him.
“We owe him, Lehgan, after what we did.”
“We did what we had to.”
“Yes, we did. But at his expense.”
He turned away and her hand fell back to her side. Lehgan went to the mantle, gazed into the fire. Even looking at his back, she saw the struggle going on inside him at her request.
“I don’t do this for him,” he said after a pause. “I do it for you.”
She wanted to go to him again, to show her gratitude with her touch, but stopped herself, knowing he would pull away. In a while he would return to himself, once his begrudging nature subsided. She would settle for words for the moment.
“Thank you, Lehgan. You are a good husband.”
He continued staring into the flames.
***
Iana looked up at her mother, the sling holding her against Emeline’s bosom covering all but her eyes and nose. Carrying the baby against her chest would help keep both of them warm during their ride to the fortress. Lehgan said it would take fourteen days’ ride, perhaps more, and they had spent a day and a half readying food and other necessary supplies, making arrangements on the farm. He led the way on the big bay he used for hunting, the pack mule tethered to his saddle; Emeline rode a few paces behind on the palomino she favored.
Bouncing gently in the saddle with Iana nestled against her, she looked back at their home. A curl of smoke snaked out of the chimney and her mother stood in the doorway watching them leave, her arms crossed in front of her chest. Against her better judgment and contrary to her husband’s wishes, Emeline’s mother had reluctantly agreed to tend the house in their absence, although her daughter failed to give a reason good enough to explain their leaving. Emeline raised a hand and waved good-bye. Her mother returned the gesture without smiling and disappeared into the house, shutting the door behind her before ten paces of earth passed beneath the horses’ hooves.
Emeline settled into the saddle for the long ride ahead while Iana cooed and blew bubbles, soothed by the gait of the horse. Emeline looked down at her and smiled, but the baby made her think of Khirro and the reason behind their trek to the Isthmus Fortress and her smile faded. All these past months, she’d given little thought to Khirro and what had come to pass. Justifying what they’d done had become easier once the conscriptors took him, and easier for her to argue to herself the importance of a child having both her parents, but what would she say when they stood face-to-face? Their actions resulted in Khirro being sent off to war and, according to the ghostly woman, much more. How could she explain that away and make things right?
The mare she rode snorted and shook its head. Emeline looked up from her thoughts at her husband’s back. She didn’t need to wonder how he felt about the whole affair; he and Khirro had never gotten along. In fact, she sometimes found herself wondering if Lehgan might have orchestrated everything-their relationship, Iana, Khirro’s banishment-simply to get his brother out of his life.
No, he’s not like that.
Lehgan had barely said a word since agreeing to her request, choosing instead to answer her enquiries with grunts and gestures. She understood why he acted this way, understood his reticence at undertaking a trip he didn’t understand, but hoped he’d come out of it soon. She needed him. The idea of facing this alone, admitting the truth she’d tried so hard to avoid, felt overwhelming. She role-played scenarios in her head, envisioning what Khirro’s face would look like when she told him what he may already suspect. She imagined how it would make him feel, how it would make her feel. She didn’t want to hurt him, had never really wanted to.