Remnants: Season of Fire (12 page)
A bird called in the far-off distance, and then another a bit away. Chaza’el’s head whipped up, looking to the branches. So did a man exiting another hut. Even as a newcomer, I recognized the covert, hushed alarm disguised as birds. The call went from tree to tree, closer and closer, until the four girls I’d seen rise to the canopy were repeating it down to us.
The village erupted in a frenzy of activity. Children emerged from all corners, dragging tree limbs back across the paths that had been cleared, dousing fires with jugs of water, then dirt to smother the smoky telltale tendrils. A woman ran by, hurriedly putting her wailing baby to her breast right in front of me in her desperation to silence him. A small child ran behind her, thumb in his mouth.
My eyes met Niero’s, and I could almost hear him say her name, even though his lips did not move.
Dri.
And then I ran.
ANDRIANA
I
swam hard, against the slow current, until I spied three tiny, pale lavender flowers of Sweet William among the greenery of the bank. I eased over the slippery rocks and edged aside a thorny brush to grab the treasured leaves that would create a bathing lather. Careful not to drop them, I shivered in the morning shadows, wishing I could swim back out into the sun, but I was intent on not losing the only soap I could find. Later, I’d come back to collect more and boil them to create a proper soap, but it was all I had for now.
I ripped up the tiny leaves and crushed them in one palm until I had the tiniest bit of a lather, then worked that through my long hair. Then I reached up and took the sparse suds from my hair again and again to clean my body. As I did so, I listened to the sounds of the river along the bank, and the birds above me. It was hardly the best bath I’d ever had, I thought,
but at least I’d be free of the brine that had made me itch all night.
It was the birds falling silent that drew my attention first.
And then it was the call echoed through the forest, an eruption of bird chatter, from tree to tree. Lookouts. A warning call.
My eyes scanned the length of the river, worried the boys fishing might return to the beach, and then down at my body, my white underdress that would draw undue attention against the dark greenery of the riverbank.
“Dri, that rock, just upstream,” urged a man’s voice above me, from among the trees.
Ronan
. It shouldn’t have surprised me that my knight had found me, but it did. And his presence comforted me.
We could hear the whine of a tiny engine, then. And a second.
“My robe,” I whispered over my shoulder, anxiety filling me. If they saw the robe of pelts, strewn across the boulder —
“I have it,” he growled. “Go now!”
I was already moving, the foreign whining, whirring sound setting my heart to pounding. I couldn’t betray the village by letting their enemies find me. I waded back into the water, submerging as fast as I could to my waist, to my shoulders, then under. When I took a breath, still several strokes away from the outcrop of rock that Ronan had seen, I spotted the first mechanical bird round the bend of the river, low above the water and coming fast. I went under and kicked and pulled back my arms as hard as I could, again and again. The current was stronger here, in the deep, and it took everything in me not to rise for a breath. I stroked forward, wondering if the spy bird was above me now, able to somehow see the white of my
underclothes beneath the ripples of the green river water, or if it was already past.
I finally reached the boulder and the current released its grip on me. I touched the rock and then willed myself to rise slowly, barely creating a break in the surface, as our trainer had taught us in survival exercises. Back home in the Valley, he had made us submerge in a deep pool for as long as we could, then rise, letting the water fill around our foreheads, eye sockets, nostrils, lips, chin, neck, as if we were a creature of the water rather than of the earth. His lessons rang through my head as I fought to do it again, instead of breaking the surface and gulping in the breath my lungs screamed for.
The outcropping was barely large enough to cover me and it was a struggle to keep my footing, rather than drifting out with the current. It was too deep to stand.
But the spy bird was close. A hovering machine about the size of a small child, covered in faux feathers, but with no wings. It hovered over the boulder on which I’d stood with Raniero, then slowly moved along the bank toward me. A second later it was on the other side of the rock that shielded me. I prayed that there were no footprints visible, no rocks that looked dislodged. I hurriedly inhaled and exhaled, catching my breath in case I needed to submerge again.
The spy bird suddenly banked and moved out to the river, and I drew a sharp breath. As if it had heard me, it paused, and I went under then, all the way under, abandoning my plan to sink my face halfway, allowing my nostrils to remain clear. I dived down and grabbed hold of several huge, rounded rocks, drawing my legs in and trying to stay still, thankful for the anchoring. I prayed to the Maker to shield me and tried to count rather than think about my aching lungs.
When I couldn’t stand it any longer, I rose slowly beneath the outcropping and allowed myself to pant for breath when I noted the whine of the small engines were in the distance.
Ronan peeked out from beside a large tree. “Nicely done,” he said quietly, his low voice just audible over the river. “Let’s give it another minute to make certain they’re gone.”
I nodded, thankful he was with me. Always with me. So faithful. So true. I studied him freely as he stared upriver. I could see that the swelling had gone down around his eye, though the white of it was still bloodshot and angry, and the skin around it was turning a sickly green-purple. But to me, he was handsome, rugged and strong, even with the bruises.
He gave me a small, tender smile, recognizing the look on my face as clearly as I was reading the love and care in his heart. He loved me as I loved him. But if Raniero discovered the depth of our feelings, what would he do? We were expressly forbidden to have any relationship beyond our Ailith bond. The bond was already intense enough to have such a clear draw to one another, strong enough to sense when others were about. But then to fall in love?
And yet, to me, it seemed like the only possible outcome, if one was physically and emotionally drawn to their knight as I was. Apparently, Vidar wasn’t drawn to Bellona — they were more like brother and sister. Killian . . . I was certain he loved Tressa beyond kinship. It was she who kept him at arm’s length. But with Ronan, well, neither of us could seem to stay away from the other. He drew me as strongly as the moon drew the tide.
“Okay,” he said, edging farther out. “You must be like ice, in that water for so long. Come out on the other side of the rock. There’s a small path there.”
I nodded, my teeth now chattering, my limbs so numb now they felt oddly warm. I swam around the edge of the boulder and then scrambled over the rocks, wincing as their sharp edges dug into my feet.
Ronan was waiting at the top of the hill, his eyes averted, with my robe stretched out and ready to wrap around me. I edged back against the soft hide and pulled it around, then turned to him.
He drew me in close, until my head was nestled beneath his chin, and moved to kiss it. “Dri, that was far too close.”
“I know,” I said. “I was scared too. Thank you for coming after me. And for thinking to grab my robe.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Chaza’el knew they were coming. I think. Those mechanical birds.”
“Drones from Pacifica,” he said. ”The chief told me they carry small cameras in them. They probably operate off a boat in the ocean. The Pacificans have been scouting every river for decades, trying to find these people. Periodically, they’re found, killed, enslaved, or escape.”
“But we’re here now,” I said, my heart picking up its pace. “If they send Sheolite scouts bent on flushing us out, we might expose them. No matter how hard we might try . . .”
“Which probably means we can’t stay for long. A few days at the most.”
I nodded and wrapped my arms around him, relishing this moment alone.
“You smell good,” he murmured, pulling me closer too. “You found some Sweet William?”
“A few leaves,” I said, happy that he’d noticed.
He looked down at me and I could feel the wave of desire
in him. But it merely echoed my own. He bent his head and kissed me then, slowly, softly. It was our first kiss since the tree village in the mountains, a half of a moon cycle before. And I wanted more. I reached up, tangling my fingers in the back of his dark, shoulder-length hair, for once not tied with its customary leather strap. Had he just awakened?
He moved one arm across my robe, his big hand settling on my lower back, strong and sure, pulling me close, our kiss deepening.
“Stop,” said a voice behind him.
We sprang apart, knowing instantly who it was.
Raniero.
He strode through the woods, his face like a visible snarl, and grabbed my hand. With my other, I hurriedly drew the robe tight around me like a shield. I knew I was blushing furiously — was my entire face as red as a berry?
Ronan was rubbing the back of his neck, spots of color spreading across his own cheeks, the other hand reaching out to our leader. “Niero —”
“No,” Niero cut him off. “There’s nothing to say. You’ve crossed the line.” He dropped my hand and paced a little, hands on hips, then gestured angrily at us. “Don’t you see? The Ailith bond is strong enough without this going on,” he said, waving between me and Ronan. “Our enemies, given the opportunity, will use the love we share for one another against us. But if you two share the love of a man and a woman . . .” He shook his head as if in agony and looked to the sky. “It simply cannot happen. You must trust me.”
We stared at him. “But what if . . .” I swallowed, losing my nerve.
“What if it’s already happened?” Ronan finished, glaring
at him. “What if I love Dri and she loves me?” The muscles in his jaw clenched and his hands drew into fists. “It’s not like we can stop it, Raniero. It’s beyond us.”
Niero studied him, missing nothing. His brown eyes flicked over to me, then back to my knight. “It’s not beyond you. It’s a
choice
. It began, fine. Now you must end it.
Now
,” he repeated.
“We cannot,” I said desperately. “How do you keep the heart from going where it will?”
“By the strength of
decision
,” he bit back. “Don’t you see?” he said, his voice rising in agitation. “You endanger us all. Our mission.”
“Endanger our mission simply because we love? That’s ridiculous. How could the love I feel for Ronan be anything but the Maker’s way? And if it’s his way, how could that impede our mission?”
Niero drew in a long, deep breath. “Andriana,” he said slowly. “Already, you’ve struggled between what you feel and what you know. Our enemy has used your feelings against you. They shall try and use every one of the Remnants’ gifts against them, knowing it’s your greatest weapon.”
“He speaks the truth,” Kapriel said, turning miserable eyes on me as he emerged from the forest. I saw the others behind him. All except for Tressa and Killian. My cheeks flamed. How much had they heard? Seen?
“But you are most vulnerable, Dri.” Niero took my hand in both of his. “You must trust me on this,” he said, looking over to Ronan too. “I know it will hurt, that it will be a struggle. That it is a sacrifice. But you must not give in to this attraction until our last battle has been won.”
Ronan ran his hands down his face and then shook them toward Niero. “You ask the impossible,” he muttered bitterly.
“You should be used to that by now,” Vidar quipped.
But for once, no one laughed.
ANDRIANA
I
couldn’t bear to walk beside Ronan — our proximity feeling like some sort of odd mocking — so I hurried to catch up to Chaza’el as we returned to the village through the woods.
I touched his arm when he didn’t look up, and knew he’d been so lost in thought that he hadn’t sensed me approach. “Are you going to tell me what you saw?” I asked. Had he seen us? Had he been the one to betray us to Raniero?
He turned his eyes on me — normally so merry, now filled with angst — and then just shook his head. “It is not for me to share. Not yet.”
I frowned. “You must tell me,” I urged. “If it concerns Ronan —”
“It wasn’t about either of you, sister,” he interrupted. “I will tell you when it is right. But Niero . . .” He paused and ran his fingers through his jet-black hair. “I know this brings you
pain, Andriana. I once loved a girl too. But Niero’s right. Your love endangers you both.”
We walked for a time in silence. “How do you stop loving once you’ve begun?” I asked softly. “It’s like telling a drowning person to quit reaching for air.”
He nodded, chin in hand. “You must reach farther, toward the Maker. For his mission, his call, above all others.”
I sighed heavily, hearing the wisdom in his words. What had we been thinking, Ronan and I? Our path wasn’t the way of so many others.
I thought back to my own parents, so in love. And murdered because they had dared to raise me . . . and protect me. It was said that the Sheolites had used their love against them — torturing one and then the other to get information. I tried to swallow, but found my mouth dry when I thought of Ronan held, tortured, in order to get to me. Had it not almost made me crazy aboard the
Far North
just to know he had been taken to the hold?
I pulled aside and waited for Ronan to catch up to me, then for the others to go ahead. They moved on, seeming aware that we needed a moment to talk alone.
I turned to face him, wanting to take his hands, but knew it would make it all the harder. If I touched him, I might not ever let go of him again.
“Don’t say it,” he said miserably, turning partially away and rubbing the back of his neck. “I know, Dri. I know.”
There would be no betrothal ceremony for Ronan and me. No children. No settling into a cozy cottage in the Valley. With a start, I admitted to myself that I’d been fantasizing about all of those things for weeks now. Ever since we’d kissed in the tree house. Maybe even before then, in the Wadi.