Remnants: Season of Fire (41 page)

It was. There was bruising, but the wound looked as if it had been stitched months before, barely a pink line, the stitches disintegrated. Vidar had risen behind me and ambled closer, rubbing his eyes. Perhaps Niero’s . . .
glory
had awakened him? Niero and I shared a long look.

But Vidar’s eyes were on Ronan’s wound. “Whoa. How’d
that
happen?” He leaned in to take a look, then even closer.

“Vidar,” Ronan complained, shoving Vidar’s head back as he tried to get a look himself. “What happened?” He looked up at me, then Niero.

“It’s a long story,” I said.

“It can’t be that long,” Ronan said. The others were rousing around us, blinking at us as if we were a dream. Which I suppose we could legitimately be. For a moment, I wondered again if I was asleep and this was all in my head.

“Ronan?” Bellona asked. “
Ronan
?”

“We have to be going,” Niero said firmly to me and Vidar, pulling on his shirt. He put on his shoulder sheath and slid his swords in. “Now.” He moved over to unhook Ronan, who was even more confused as he traced the tube from his arm to the drained blood bag above him.

“Now?” I asked, even as I moved to grab a pack and rouse my parents.

“Yes,” Niero replied, giving me a steely look. There was a reason. A very good reason.

“All right,” I said, but I couldn’t resist pulling Ronan in for a quick embrace as he rose off the table, wincing, moving as if he was only sore — not rising from a surgery that should have killed him. I shook my head in amazement. Everyone else readied to go, but stared our way.

Ronan glanced down at me, and I understood his fear that
Niero would see. That we’d be chastised again, even separated. “Hey, what’s that for?”

“For not . . . for being here. With me. I’m so glad you’re
with
me, Ronan.”

I saw as he noticed the tears in my eyes. “Hey,” he whispered, turning away from Niero, so that our guide would only see his back. “You all right?” he asked urgently, searching my eyes, lifting a quick hand to my cheek.

“Never better,” I said brightly, taking his hand in my own. “Come on, Knight. We need to gather our things. We’ve been called.”

“And we will answer,” he muttered behind me, still clearly trying to figure out what was going on as my mother and father came over to him and embraced him like a long-lost child. I was sure Ronan had no idea why everyone was acting so strangely.

Niero grinned over his shoulder at me as he slid open the barn door. We ran out in a line, scurrying across the field, back to the safety of the canyon. And as we climbed and climbed, heading north and east under a velvet sky laden with stars, I felt nothing but hope, even in the heart of enemy country. We would make our way out and onward to wherever the Maker called.

Whenever he called us.

Because we had a mission to accomplish, we Remnants and Knights.

A people to gather.

Hearts to kindle. Stories to tell.

An enemy to vanquish, one way or another.

And they had barely begun to see the fight we would bring to their very door.