Rise of the Sparrows (Relics of Ar'Zac #1) (10 page)

The inside of Arlo's little hut was the coziest space Rachael had ever seen. A warming fire crackled in a large hearth, a meat Rachael didn't recognise cooked on a stick over the open flames, and in the corner adjacent to the lovely fire place, the stew Arlo had mentioned bubbled away. The smells when they entered the place were near to overwhelming. A meaty scent filled the whole room, carrying the slight hint of potatoes and some vegetables.

The house smelled of home, and Rachael realised she was too close to allowing herself some comfort while she was here. She would never let her guard down again. Not ever.

“Come on over here, lass.”

Rachael turned around to see Arlo rummaging through a rather large cupboard with many drawers and small doors. It looked as though he had crafted it by hand—not the most skilfully made piece of furniture but it had a certain charm to it. It also looked big enough to store every trinket in his house, and more.

Arlo motioned for Cephy to come over, taking out some bandages and a few small bottles before sitting down at the large oak table, where Cale had already made himself at home.

“I'll clean the wound first, but it will sting a little. Once it's clean I'll treat it with this tincture here, and then I'll bandage it up nice and tight. You're okay with that, lass?” Without looking to Rachael for reassurance this time Cephy nodded, taking a few hesitant steps towards Arlo. “Good. Now be a good lass and take a seat so I can get started!”

She did as Arlo had asked, and the old man began his work immediately. Rachael could tell by the twists Cephy's face distorted into that cleaning the wound was as painful as he had promised.

“Here.” Cale pulled out the chair closest to Cephy for Rachael to sit on. Happy to be nearer to Cephy, she sat down at the table. At a loss for things to say she ran her hand over the rough surface. It was another oversized piece of furniture, and the chairs matched. In Aeron's home everything had looked polished, and expensive, but here everything looked handmade and too large for the room. It felt like home should feel, even though Rachael expected splinters to pierce her fingertips at any moment.

Rachael watched Cephy, uncomfortably aware that Cale was watching
her
even more intently.

When she couldn't take his stare any more she turned in her chair, facing him. “Why are you staring at me?”

If she hadn't known any better she would have thought that the young man blushed. “I'm sorry, I don't want to upset you. I'm just relieved to see you safe.”

“Why? You don't even know me.” People were never this nice to anyone unless they wanted something. She was all too aware of the cramped space they were in, and the two strong men who knew the area much better than she ever would. She doubted she'd be able to outrun the men. They needed the rest, and they definitely needed the food, but she wanted to live more than she wanted their hospitality. Both men were much stronger built than her or Cephy, and would be able to overpower them without a problem.

But why dress Cephy's wounds if they had ulterior motives? Wouldn't she struggle less if her hands were hurting? Rachael scolded herself for giving them the benefit of the doubt. It could all be an act—a trick to make them feel safe, only to drag them into a bottomless, dark pit the moment they were asleep. She didn't know these men. For all she knew they pulled all their victims in this way.

Rachael made a promise to herself not to fall asleep in this place, not while these strangers were around.

Next to her, Cale smiled that irritating, reassuring smile of his. “In a way I do know you. I don't know you personally, but I know
of
you. All of us do.”

“All of you
who
?”

“The Sparrows, lass.” Arlo's voice was a low grumble, his eyes focused on dressing Cephy's hands. The pain had left her face and she looked more relaxed. Whatever the men's motives, Rachael was grateful that Cephy was no longer hurting.

“Aeron mentioned them. She called you
Sparrow
.”

Cale's face twisted into an annoyed frown. “She calls all of us
Sparrow
. I don't think she knows our names. We're in her way, that's all she cares about.”

“What are they?” She wasn't so sure she really wanted to know.

“We're a group of people who-”

Arlo interrupted him. “What do you know of Rifarne's politics?”

It was Rachael's turn to frown. She knew nothing about politics. Every now and again she had caught a few whispers around Blackrock, but never anything useful. It was nothing she had any interest in. She knew they had a king and she knew the White City was their capital, but what good had that knowledge ever done her?

To answer his question she shook her head no.

“We here in Rifarne are ruled by a King. The country's been governed by the Elleries for centuries. Terrible people. They make fine rulers, but they have one flaw.”

Frustrated Rachael shook her head, feeling she was supposed to catch on but didn't. “What flaw?”

Arlo tied together the ends of the bandage, and smiled at Cephy who beamed up at him. “There lass, your hands'll be good as new!” His eyes shifted back to Rachael as he got up and walked towards his bubbling stew. “They hate magic, and everyone with it.”

Her heart sank. That she had known for a very long time.

“That's why the White Guard was after you and Cephy. Someone in your town reported you. They were there to take you to the White City to have you executed.” Rachael felt sick. She had guessed as much but hearing it confirmed out loud now made the truth of it worse somehow.

“Why?” Tears welled up in her eyes, years of anger boiling to the surface as she asked the one question she had asked the Maker many times without an answer.

Cale and Arlo exchanged brief glances before Cale answered, a tired look clouding his eyes. “Who knows? It's because of power, we think.”

“Power?”

“Aye, lass. A lot of people feel threatened by magic, so slaughtering it is the most logical solution to them. Our good King Aeric Ellery is one of those people. They pretend they care, but they always turn to slaughter in the end. The coward's way out.”

Rachael remembered of the terrible stench of burning soldiers. Cephy had taken down so many so easily, without any real effort. Maybe the people of Rifarne had good reason to be afraid. How could they hope to defend themselves against something like that? The men Cephy had killed were seasoned soldiers, and they hadn't stood a chance against one little girl.

Cale answered her unspoken question. “There have been attempts on his life, but no one was able to get close enough. Not yet.”

“I don't understand what this has to do with me. Why does any of this mean that you know of me? Who are the Sparrows?”

“The Sparrows are a group of people who are tired of the way this country is ruled. Most of them have magic, and they all want King Aeric's rule to end.”

Icy realisation flooded her. “You mean...”

Cale nodded. “The Sparrows have committed themselves to killing the king, and we need you to lead us.”

Rachael sat in silence as Cale's words sank in. The young man stared at her, waiting for her reaction while Arlo busied himself with the hot stew. Cephy's scared eyes flashed to Rachael.

“I don't understand. I can't kill the King, that's madness! Why would I even consider that? What makes you think- ” Rachael knew with or without political knowledge that regicide was the worst offense anyone could commit. Just what made them think that she wanted to have a part in this insane plan? They were bound to fail, and then they would be executed and their plan would die with them. Her involvement wouldn't make a difference.

The walls were closing in around her, the oversized furniture pressing into her sides. She wanted out; out of this wonderful, homely hut. Out of these cold, dangerous forests.

If she had known anywhere to run to she might well have tried it.

Arlo came over and took her hands into his giant ones. “I know, lass. But the truth of the matter is we need you or we will fail.”

“Why?”

“There is a prophecy that predicts it” Cale said. “We have named ourselves after it.”

Arlo nodded. “Aye, lass. The Rise of the Sparrows. It's been around since the old days.”

This whole conversation got more ridiculous by the minute. A real life prophecy? Like in the stories she had sometimes overheard?

It was hard to believe. Her own magic was one thing. She couldn't control her dreams and they only ever predicted things which were to happen soon. It was another thing entirely to predict things hundreds of years in the future.

“I know it's a lot to take in. Maybe if we told you the prophecy?”

She sighed, and nodded. What other choice did she have? She was nothing but prey in the wolf's lair, and the stew was already cooking in the hearth.

"'The night the Blue Blood flows freely

the Sparrows will rise once more.

Find the Sparrow who sees ahead

and it will lead you to victory.

Trust the Fox,

and it will betray you before the end.

Do not accept the Ar'Zac,

for it will lead you to ruin.'”

Rachael watched Cale as she waited for the rest when she realised that this was all they had.

"Is that it?"

Cale nodded.

"What does it mean? What is an Ar'Zac?" She felt her heart sink. “And how does this talk about me?”

"Look here, where it says about the Fox?” Cale pointed at the text, a big boyish grin on his face. “I think the Fox is more important than whatever this Ar'Zac is. And you are 'the Sparrow who sees ahead', there's no denying that." Cale had gotten excited telling the prophecy, but his enthusiasm didn't infect Rachael.

She wished she was back on the streets of Blackrock, avoided by everyone. Life as a homeless orphan had not been great, but it had been easier without prophecies and magic and Sparrows. And this
Ar'Zac
.

She sighed. “This is ridiculous. I don't know what you think I'll do, but I won't do it.”

“We know it's a lot to take in. We don't need an answer tonight.”

Arlo nodded in agreement. “You don't have to do anything right now, lass. You must be tired, why don't you get some sleep?”

She wanted to be farther away than that, but she was tired and Cephy looked downright exhausted. They hadn't eaten since breakfast, and Cephy's wounds were sapping her energy. A good night's rest was the best option, but she wasn't comfortable with those two men around.

She hated that it was the only choice they had.

“Come on, Cephy.” She got up, ready to go to the room Arlo had nodded at when she stopped herself, not turning around to face them. “We'll be off tomorrow morning. Find someone else to fulfil your prophecy.”

The room Arlo had readied for them was small, but cosy. For someone who hadn't expected guests Arlo was well prepared.

Not wasting any time Cephy sat down on the duvet, sighing happily against the smooth fur. Rachael followed suit, happy to sit down on something other than those hard oak chairs but determined not to fall asleep. There were two strong men in the other room who were planning regicide. What if they decided that she was useless to them now that she had refused to help them? They were willing to kill the king. She was just another homeless orphan.

She would stay awake and watch over Cephy. At the slightest hint of danger, they could run for it, hopeless as that prospect seemed to her. Then, at dawn, they could sneak out and leave before the two men woke up.

“How are your hands?” Rachael asked, looking at Cephy properly for the first time since they had arrived. The girl looked tired, dark rings hung under her half-closed lids, but above all she looked conflicted. Cephy was usually quiet so she hadn't read anything into her silence during the conversation, but maybe something was on her mind after all.

With her eyes shut Cephy nodded. “They don't hurt any more. It was real nice of him to treat them.”

“It was.” Panic flooded her when she realised that Cephy wanted to stay. Cephy hadn't been homeless for long enough to be careful around people. The homely feel of the hut had lured her in, but how could she want to stay with people who were plotting to kill the King? She had been right before – those men were every bit as dangerous as Aeron.

Cephy stared at the floor. Her feet shuffled back and forth. There was something the girl needed to say, and Rachael had a feeling she wasn't going to like it.

“What is it?” She hoped her gut feeling was wrong, just this once.

“Would killing King Aeric be so bad?” She remembered the ease with which Cephy had killed the soldiers of the White Guard. How could killing be such a simple matter to her?

Worried, she sat closer to Cephy. “Yes, it would be. It's a criminal offence.”

“So is stealing food, and killing other people.” There was a long second of silence before Cephy continued. “He tried to kill us, too. Isn't that wrong?”

Rachael closed her arms around the little girl and drew her close, hating that she found herself agreeing. Killing the king was treason, but Cephy had a point. Why should they have to die because he felt threatened by magic? Wasn't that just as bad? Did they not have a right to live in peace, away from hateful glares and pointed fingers? She had never hurt anyone unprovoked. What reason did he have to come after her?

“Yes, that's wrong, too. But he rules Rifarne, Cephy, he is an important man.” Her weak argument rang hollow in her own ears.

“Father once said that no matter how important someone is to someone else, if they do something bad they have to be punished.” Rachael had a feeling this was about Cephy having magic and her father's fear for it, but kept her thoughts to herself.

She was at a loss for words. “That's true, but if that person is the ruler of a country then-”

“What does that matter?” Cephy's eyes flashed with an angry spark. “He is human like everyone else, isn't he? What gives him the right to kill us for being different?”

Rachael swallowed. She had no answer to that question.

“Do you think I should agree to their plan?”

Cephy nodded. “If he was dead, there could be a new king. Maybe we wouldn't have to run all the time then.” All her life Rachael had done nothing but hide her curse. Was it possible that she would not have to under a new ruler? Could a life like that exist?

She sighed, feeling more exhausted than she ever had. She couldn't even imagine a life where no one would hate her simply because of her dreams. It seemed too good to be true. She had spent her entire life wanting to be like everyone else, wanting to be accepted. What if Cale and Arlo had the answers to her prayers? She had begged the Maker to help her. Maybe they had been sent by him, to do just that.

Growing more and more irritated with herself she shook her head. Their plan was foolish and far too dangerous. She wouldn't consider it.

“Go to sleep. We'll leave tomorrow morning.”

“Do we have to?” Cephy sounded sad, and fed up with running away.

She wished she could have changed her mind for Cephy's sake, but she couldn't. They would find an abandoned cave somewhere, maybe even a place similar to this one, and they would live their lives out there away from prying eyes. It would be a lonely life, but they would be safe. She couldn't ask for anything more.

Rachael nodded, tucking Cephy in.

Once she was sure that Cephy was comfortable, Rachael sat down on her own bed and watched the door. This would be a long night.