Chapter 43. A Hawk’s Last Delivery and the Arrow She Wouldn’t Explain

Chapter 43: 43. A Hawk’s Last Delivery and the Arrow She Wouldn’t Explain

The hawk was still breathing when Elsbeth lifted it out of the dust, but I could tell by the way she held it that she already knew how this was going to end.

She sat down on a flat rock at the side of the road with the bird across her knees, one hand smoothing its ruffled feathers while the other worked the arrow out of its wing, slow and careful, like she was afraid of hurting it more.

The hawk gave a small, rattling sigh. Then its head lolled sideways, and that was that.

Nobody in the column said a word.

Twenty Nightclaw riders sat motionless on their horses, and the only sound was the wind pulling at the banners.

Up at the back, Millie had gone so still that she looked like she’d been carved out of the saddle.

Bonette had already moved her gray mare right beside Millie’s and pulled her white robe wide, covering as much of her as she could, like a bird sheltering a chick.

I swung off my horse, which took two tries because my side still pulled when I twisted, and walked over to Elsbeth.

She had the arrow in her lap and was studying the feathers on the shaft with a strange, tight expression.

"What is it...?" I asked quietly.

"Nothing."

"That’s a very loud nothing..."

She didn’t answer. She turned the arrow over in her fingers one more time, then wrapped it in a strip of cloth and tucked it inside her coat, and I noticed her hand wasn’t quite steady.

Whatever she’d seen in those feathers... she wasn’t ready to say it out loud, and I decided that this was one of the rare moments where I should shut up and wait.

Velora had no such patience.

"The girl goes back to Elarune," she announced, wheeling her black stallion around so that she faced the whole column. "Now! With an escort of four riders."

"No," said Millie.

She didn’t say it loudly. She said it the way you set a cup down on a table, steady and final, and every head turned toward her.

Her ears were flat against her skull and her hands were clenched on the reins, but her voice didn’t shake.

"They know my name," she said. "If I go back, they’ll just follow me there..."

"At least out here... I can help."

"You are a liability."

"I’m a liability who is coming with you."

Velora opened her mouth, and I swear I saw a muscle jump in her jaw.

Then Sylvara floated forward and said, in her mild, gentle voice, "Perhaps I might suggest a compromise, Commander."

She and Bonette worked together for about ten minutes.

Sylvara held out her staff, and the little purple flame at its tip split into dozens of threads of pale moonlight, which Bonette caught and wove through the hem of Millie’s cloak with quick, practiced fingers, like she’d been doing it her whole life.

When they finished, a faint shimmer ran across the fabric and then faded, and the air around Millie looked a little blurred, like a pane of glass that someone had breathed on.

"A veil," Sylvara explained. "It will not make her invisible, but it should dull the trail."

"Anyone searching by magic will have to work harder to find her."

"Should," Velora said coldly.

"Yep. Should," Sylvara agreed, unbothered.

Velora decided we would ride at night from now on, and take the long way around the main road, through the hills.

She gave the order to Elsbeth and not to me, which I took as a deliberate insult and also as an extremely wise tactical choice. I kept my mouth shut and nodded along with a face like a man in church.

Before we left, Elsbeth took a trowel from her saddlebag and dug a small hole at the side of the road, deep enough to bury a hawk.

I went over and offered to help, and she didn’t say no, which was the most generous thing she’d done all day.

I dug faster then she laid the bird in the ground. We covered it up with stones, and nobody said anything.

...

I’ve never been a good horseman before... I’ve been on exactly one pony in my life, at a birthday party when I was seven, and it fucking bit me.

So it should have come as no surprise that two days of hard riding turned me into a miserable, saddle-sore wreck who talked to his horse out of pure desperation.

"Look, buddy," I whispered into the animal’s ear on the second morning. "I know you don’t like me... and yes, that’s probably fair."

"I wouldn’t like me either... But if you could stop trying to scrape me off on every low branch, I’d really appreciate it, thank you."

The horse flicked its ear in my direction with an expression I can only describe as disdain.

Behind me, a Nightclaw rider coughed into her fist in a way that I suspected was hiding a laugh. Up ahead, Velora’s spine got slightly straighter, which I took to mean that she wasn’t amused.

The days settled into a rhythm. We rode at dusk and through the night, rested in the dead hours before dawn, and moved again at sundown.

The landscape rolled by in a blur of dark hills and thin cold stars. And in the gaps between the miles, the little things started to happen.

On the first night, Millie asked if I could teach her to hold a knife. I pulled out one of my throwing knives and showed her how to grip it, and she held it like it might explode.

Before I could say anything useful, Bonette appeared at her elbow and gently took the blade away.

"With respect, Highness, a knife is the last thing you need," she said. "You already know how to avoid a blow..."

"We will build on that."

For the next hour, Bonette taught her footwork on the grass at the side of the road, stepping in and out of the line of an invisible attacker.

Millie moved with a natural, flowing lightness that made even the Nightclaw riders slow down to watch. I sat on my horse with my arms crossed and a very stupid, very proud grin on my face.

Later, when the others had gone ahead, Millie dropped back beside me and said in a very small voice, "Do you think I’ll be strong enough in time?"

I thought about lying. I really did.

It would have been easy and comforting.

"I don’t know," I said honestly. "But I know you won’t have to face it alone."

She looked at me for a moment and then smiled, and I felt something in my chest do a very annoying little flip.

...

Sylvara taught me reinforcement as we rode, with her lights bobbing along beside my saddle like a pack of curious pets.

By the second day, my spark had grown from a grain of rice to the size of a pea, and I’d celebrated by nearly falling off my horse.

"Look at you... you are improving fast," she said, in that warm, amused voice.

"Maybe I’m a prodigy."

"You are a pea."

"A very powerful pea that can take down zombies apparently."

She laughed, soft and musical, and leaned toward me from her saddle, close enough that I could smell a faint scent of night jasmine. "I should warn you, Leon, that you are a very unusual student..."

Oh wow... she’s close... really close! I can smell her... It smells... divine.

"Most people struggle to control their mana, but yours barely exists, and yet it keeps trying to do things on its own."

"Is that bad?"

"It is fascinating for me."

I opened my mouth, just to found that I had nothing in it, and closed it again.

Behind us, Millie made a tiny strangled sound that was suspiciously similar to a giggle, and I did the only reasonable thing, which was pretend I hadn’t heard.

I did mention one other thing to Sylvara. It had been bothering me since Elarune, a faint pressure that sometimes settled over my skin whenever I got nervous, as if someone had laid a heavy, invisible blanket over my shoulders.

It was the same feeling I’d gotten when I first received my new gift, that second layer of protection, and I’d started to notice it twitching at odd moments, like an itch I couldn’t scratch.

"I wish I could see magic the way you do," I said, trying to sound casual. "I keep feeling something... and I can’t tell what it is."

I rubbed my cheek with my finger. "It would be nice to know."

"What does it feel like?"

"Like a hand pressing down on me from far away."

Her expression sharpened, just slightly, and she studied me for a few seconds without speaking. "Hmmmm..."

"How curious," she said. "Tell me if it grows stronger."

I said I would. I didn’t notice at the time how carefully she kept her face blank.