Rise of the Sparrows (Relics of Ar'Zac #1) (19 page)

Cale needed to put space between him and Rachael. Holding her like this was too close, too personal. He couldn’t allow his feelings to get in the way of what he needed to do. How could he hope to fight a war if he let his emotions blind him? He didn’t think he could. As far as he knew, it wasn't possible.

Gently strengthening the hold he had around her, he allowed himself to pull Rachael closer if only for a brief moment. Seeing her like this, so fragile and so defeated, hurt—but this was the only thing he could do for her. If holding her and believing in her made her feel safer then he would be satisfied with it.

Maybe, once this war was over, he would tell her how he felt, but he doubted it would accomplish anything. Rachael hadn’t shown any interest in love, which he knew was due to her strong mistrust of everyone. He couldn’t fault her paranoia. Suspicion was a healthy trait to have, especially in times like these where almost everyone was out for her hide. If it kept her alive, then so be it—even if it meant that she didn't trust him.

He couldn’t let this continue. Once Rachael had calmed down she could go back inside, and he could train behind the house. The familiarity of his sword in his hands always had a calming effect on him, and calming down was just what he needed to do—before he said something he’d regret.

Allowing his feelings for their Sparrow to grow would only bring him pain. Rachael was far away from seeing anyone like that, never mind him, and he knew first hand how much it would hurt. Besides, he was likely to die in this war—if not protecting her, then fighting for her. Did he really want to get her involved in something like this, only to die months later?

He frowned. King Aeric was growing impatient, and there had been talk of him forging strange alliances. He couldn’t be sure, but he was worried that this mysterious alliance involved Aeron. If it did… There was only one way forward if it did. King Aeric had stalled until now for some reason, but Aeron was not a woman of patience. Impatient Mist Women were a terrible breed, and he was afraid they were facing one now.

He might not have as much time as he thought.

He forced himself to let go of Rachael, and gently pushed her away. Her tears had dried, her eyes still red and swollen.

“Are you feeling better?”

“A little.” There was nothing on her face to support her words. Her body had sacked in his arms, but at least she wasn't crying. Her sobs had hurt him deeper than any of his past wounds, knowing that there was little he could do to stop her pain. He had done everything he could to find Cephy, but the girl knew how to hide. A result of having been homeless, he suspected. A result of having been taught by Rachael. He wouldn't have known where to look even if she had run to Aeron. The Mist Woman had more than one lair, and she wouldn't give up Cephy easily. They wouldn't be in the same house as before, but could be anywhere in Rifarne.

“Why don't you go back inside? Ailis will make you a tea, it’ll help you feel better.”

She nodded, following his lead but stopped after a few steps. “Where will you go?”

He reminded himself that she only asked to be polite, not because she cared.

The Sparrows' hideout was nearly empty now compared to the night Rachael had met them.

She was sitting at a table in the large room she'd been in before, but it looked like a different space without all those people crowding into it. There was a table on the other end of the room with maps and markers, and chairs and smaller tables lined the walls on each side. She observed Cale from one of those tables, as he discussed the next raid with four other Sparrows over one of the maps.

She wanted to join them, but Cale would never let her. He'd been reluctant to let her come along again at all, in case a guard saw them and realised who she was by chance. He was willing to risk his own life coming here, or raiding the prison, but he wasn't willing to gamble with hers.

Rachael knew she wouldn't have been much use to them, even if he had allowed it. She couldn't fight, not like they could, and she had no magic that would be useful if they were caught. As much as she wanted to come along and do something useful, she knew she was more likely to get in the way.

Kiana's bright red hair came into view. It was like a beacon in the otherwise dimly lit room; not noticing her when she entered the room would have been impossible.

Rachael looked up when Kiana sat down on the table, one leg crossed over the other.

“How's Cale treating you?” she asked, her bright green eyes fixated on Rachael.

Rachael shrugged. How was he supposed to treat her? The other Sparrows behaved like she was their rightful leader, or like she was Rifarne's Queen already. Cale was reluctant to put her into any danger, whereas the others seemed to want to fight beside her.

“He's been kind to me.” Rachael wasn't sure how else to put it. Since she had arrived he and Ailis had fed her twice a day, sometimes three times, and they had given her a room with a soft bed. Thanks to their hospitality she had even put on a bit of weight, and the oils Ailis had given her had put a shine on to her hair. She felt better since Ailis had healed her, too. Her body felt stronger, and her mind was sharper.

Rachael had never felt so healthy, or so well looked-after. While she didn't trust Cale she liked Ailis, and she couldn't deny that she was in much better shape because of them.

“Ailis, too,” said Rachael. Cale was often out during the day, either hunting or buying supplies on the market, or doing business with the Sparrows. It was Ailis who looked after her most of the time.

Kiana gave her a wink from her spot on the table. She reminded Rachael of a cat who had claimed the highest position and relaxed until it was time to pounce. Dressed in brown leather and with twin daggers at her hip, she looked every bit like a hunter. Rachael had no trouble imagining her in a fight, or her victory. Kiana was a woman who could look after herself, Rachael had no doubt about it. It made her grateful that the woman was on their side instead of fighting against them.

Kiana smiled. “You're in good hands, Rachael. I know what you've been through and how hard it is for you to trust him, but he won't let anyone as much as scratch you.”

Rachael frowned. “How would you know what I've been through?” Kiana looked like she might well have been a thief turned hunter. It was hard to imagine her struggling to survive. If she were hungry, she'd either kill a deer or she'd take the still warm pie from the window sill. Rachael had no trouble picturing either.

Kiana shrugged. “Cale told me.” Rachael thought she saw a light dim in Kiana's eyes, but blamed that on the weak lighting from the oil lamps. “Well, that and I used to live on the street, too. Not here, but in Tramura. There's a small town just past the narrow mountain passage. I grew up there.”

Rachael didn't know what to say. Kiana was a strange woman, but she felt herself drawn to her. Kiana couldn't have been much older than her, but unlike Rachael, she was strong and unapologetic. Rachael couldn't help liking her.

“How long have you been here?” It was clear to Rachael that Kiana didn't want her pity, but she was too curious about her not to ask.

“About two years. We have scouts all over the place, and one of them recruited me. The same one found you in Blackrock, but he had orders from Cale not to interfere directly. We had to know it was really you, that you wanted to survive.”

Rachael's head was spinning. There had been a Sparrow in Blackrock? A Sparrow who had watched her, maybe every day, and she hadn't realised it?

Kiana giggled. It was the most mischievous sound Rachael had ever heard, and it matched the gleam in her eye that Rachael had seen before. “Our scouts are very capable, Rachael. If they don't want to be found you'll never know they were there. I've trained a few of them myself!”

Rachael's heart raced. If they had scouts all over Rifarne, maybe she could use them. “Who are they looking for? Does Cale tell them who to search for, and they find them?”

Kiana's expression darkened. “You're wondering about your friend. Cale mentioned you've recently lost someone close to you.” Rachael nodded, excited that Kiana had caught on. If there was just a small chance that they could find Cephy, they had to use it. “I'm sorry. Cale has already alerted his scouts to look for her, but he also told me that she has some powerful magic in her. She is skilled for her age, from what I understand.”

Rachael nodded, wondering how much Cale had told them exactly. She doubted he had told them who Cephy was to them—who prophecy said she was—but she was grateful that he was trying.

“Often children with the gift can't control their magic, especially if it's an element they haven't practised with before. If your friend is determined not to be found, she might be using her gift to conceal herself, possibly without realising that she's doing it.

I'm sorry, Rachael. If she doesn't want to be found then even our best scouts won't have much luck. They are usually successful because their targets don't know that we're looking for them. Your friend is clever, from what I've heard. She'll suspect that Cale might come looking for her.”

Rachael sighed, feeling defeated. Kiana was right, but that didn't soothe the pain in her chest.

She focused on something else. “Do you think we can win this war?”

“War?” Kiana laughed. “Rachael, this is no real war. Now, the sorcerers of the old world, they knew how to fight each other!” Rachael didn't know how to respond. Kiana was unlike anyone she had ever met. And she had believed Cale to be a strange man, or Arlo! Kiana beat them both. “I think we have a good chance of winning. We have you, don't we?”

Rachael scowled. Why did everyone have to place so much faith in her? “I told you before, I don't know how to control my gift.”

“And I meant what I said before,” Kiana said, winking. “We've got your back, Rachael. You don't believe in yourself, but we do. On your own you might not be able to get to King Aeric, but we can clear the way for you.” A playful spark lit her eyes. “Or are you saying you don't trust me with these?” She pulled one of her daggers out from its sheath, twirling it between her fingers and throwing it into the air briefly before catching it again with two fingers. Its blade came close to Kiana's skin several times, but Rachael didn't think that it was ever really close to cutting her. Kiana was in perfect control over her weapon. With both daggers she'd be a deadly force against the White Guard.

Rachael smiled. She shook her head. “I think you can handle yourself.”

Kiana placed the dagger back into its small scabbard, running the blade gently between her fingers as it slid back into the leather.

“See? You've got nothing to worry about while I'm alive, and I don't die easily. Ask any White Guard in this city.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Or those I've let live, that is.”

For the first time in her life, Rachael laughed. She had only just met Kiana, but she knew beyond a doubt that she could trust her. She liked this strange woman who was so unlike anyone she had ever met, who was so sure of herself, and who had earned every ounce of her confidence.

If Kiana told her that she could trust Cale, maybe she really could. Rachael knew she wouldn't be able to just trust him now, no matter what Kiana had said, but she believed Kiana and wanted to try.

Two days ago three men had approached Cephy. She had only left the main road for a few minutes to collect fresh water at a nearby stream. Thanks to her magic sharpening her senses she had heard the water flowing, and had followed her ears. The men must have seen her leave the safety of the busy well-travelled road and had followed her.

They'd cornered her by the small river, wanting to do unspeakable things to her. She had tried not to use her magic, but it had leaked out when she had realised that she couldn’t slip past them. All three of them had burned to ashes, away from prying eyes. She was grateful that no one had seen it—she didn't need any more trouble—but she hadn't meant to kill them. She had only wanted to escape, but it seemed her gift had had other ideas. They didn't have much money on them, but she took what little she found.

Finally, just yesterday, she had faced the harsh truth that she needed money if she wanted to eat. There had been no sign of Aeron, and Cephy had come to the painful conclusion that she had travelled in the wrong direction. How long for, she didn’t know. Aeron was probably on the other end of the country by now, warm and well-fed while Cephy was rapidly fading away.

Exhausted from another long day of walking, Cephy sank down into the comfort of a hard tavern chair. Her feet were aching terribly, and her stomach even more so. Even though it had been a mild day outside, the chill from lack of food and sleep had seeped under her skin. Most taverns had been willing to let her sleep with the animals, and while the animals were friendly enough company she hadn’t dared nod off completely

She had followed a merchant, hoping he'd have coin to spare. He had headed away from the main road, and she had been terrified that her magic would leak out again. Following him away from the busy street had seemed like her best option. She hadn’t wanted to hurt him, but her demands for his money had fallen on deaf ears. He had ignored her when she had asked for a bit to eat, laughed at her when she had been persistent and threatened her when she had asked for his money instead. When he had grabbed her arm and balled his free hand into a fist, she had panicked and her magic had leaked out, burning him to ashes. She was ashamed of what she had done next, but she had searched his charred remains and had salvaged what little money hadn't melted.

Why did he have to force her hand? Why couldn't he just hand over some coins? He would still be alive if he had. 

As a way of scolding herself, Cephy bit down on her lip, hard. If the merchant had lived he would have sought the next authorities, and he would have reported her. It was better this way, hard as that truth was to accept. Rachael had taught her to do what was necessary to stay alive. She wished killing him hadn't been necessary, but he hadn't given her a choice.

She felt terribly guilty for spending his money now, but his death would have been pointless otherwise. When the serving maid came to her table she ordered a pie, reminding herself not to be greedy. The money would likely have to last for a while, and she didn’t dare spend it all in one go. She hadn’t tasted a sugar bake in an awfully long time, but she would ration herself. When all this was over she’d go back to Rachael and they could live with Cale and Ailis, and Ailis could bake for them then. Until that day she would wait, and save what little money she had.

The promise of a real bed was too tempting. She asked the maid for a room, relieved to see that she wasn’t charging too much.

Feeling better, if not a little guilty, Cephy walked up the stairs to her room. She would pray for the poor merchant tonight, as she had prayed for those men who had followed her to the river. Rachael hadn’t believed in the Maker, and Cephy had long since began to doubt his existence herself, but in case they were wrong she wanted the merchant to have a good afterlife, at least. She owed him something, and this was the only thing she could do for him now.

When Cephy opened the door, it creaked.

Her room was small but held a bed, a small table with a chair and a chamber pot. There was even a small wardrobe for her possessions. It wasn’t fancy or comfortable by any means, but after all these nights of sleeping between cows and horses it was more than good enough.

Exhausted Cephy sat herself down on the bed, ignoring the feeling of hard straw digging into her skin. She closed her eyes for a moment to let the feeling of having a bed under her tired bones again sink in.

Her floorboards creaked. She jumped up from the bed, ready to defend herself if she needed to.

“Aeron!”

“Now, now, is that how you greet an old friend?”

“You're not—” Cephy caught herself just in time. The injuries Aeron had inflicted on her in the past no longer mattered. She had finally found her. She wasn’t about to ruin it. “How long have you been here?”

“In this room? Mere moments, my Fox. Around you, watching your every step?” A sly smile ruined her pretty features. “For about two weeks.”

Cephy felt so angry she wanted to hurl the next best object at the woman's beautiful head. If only she had any objects to spare.

“Two weeks? Why didn't you say anything?”

“Why, because I needed to know that you were strong enough to be my student, of course! You remember the suffering your hands underwent before, I trust?”