The Marcher Lord (Over Guard) (49 page)

This re
alization caused Ian some shame, as that was the whole problem. The Chax, whom he didn’t even know the name of, was worth more than any number of expeditions. The only consolation was that the Chax had chosen the risks. And that was all that was needed, as Ian reasoned their company was doing the same.

Ian
was swimming along and under the planet’s dirt in the darkness, the grasses up and around him. He moved his arms through the ground like it was water, only there was no water. Just something behind him that he couldn’t see, and when he did, it was a host of Chax arms reaching for him, their faces gaping at him with open mouths and empty eye sockets—

Ian jerked up as
all the Chax touched him—

But
it was actually just another wave of static that ran over them and through his chest, startling his already frantic heart.

Taking his bearings and feeling foolish, he forced himself back to the ground and tried to will his heart to slow down.

Therefore, somewhat ironically, Ian then found much more comfort in trying to puzzle out the Wester daughters. He tried to do the comparison between them again, but found with some startlement that his opinions had noticeably changed.

All of it seemed to be overshadowed with his feeling that Elizabeth was very angry at him, and that was when he thought of Elizabeth
at all. It was kind of annoying how he couldn’t get his mind clean of Maddy. Mostly, it was of the problems associated with her. But those weren’t his fault and certainly shouldn’t be his responsibility.

And there was the indignation, the defensiveness. Certainly he
couldn’t claim to be as handsome as some of the others in his company, but that didn’t mean that they should say that. Or that it was actually such a large gap between him and the next contender that it should even come to mind.

Her lips were nice. He had to give Maddy that. This was especially convenient because
they kept coming up in his mind. It was from them that so much of her flowed, Ian thought. And he hoped that if he heard the subject of his handsomeness come from them, it would be a little bit more favorable than Elizabeth’s summary.

Another wave of static ran over them
, and he turned in his bed to stare hard at the ground.

But what did it matter?

“Bless those who persecute you; bless and do not curse. Rejoice with those who rejoice, and weep with those who weep.”

—Romans 12:14-15

Two more days followed much in the same way, though calmer than that night. Generally, it was for them to finish physically recovering. Ian, however, felt like he had already overstayed his appropriate recovery time. Will, Lieutenant Taylor, and evidently Maddy were the foremost medical minds in the camp, and they pronounced his rate of healing much lower than he might have and did.

Still, it was nice not to be on the move for a short time. And while rugby was definitely out, they got in a lot of cards.

“Sticks,” Kieran muttered as he threw down an eight of diamonds into the main brek. “Sticks to you, Brodie.”

“I can’t do much better,” Brodie said
, throwing down some odd number that Ian didn’t bother to remember. “Sticks again to our lion tamer.”

“And I’ll meet that,” Ian said, dropping two of his low cards with an ace, grinning at the collective protest that ran around their game.

Brodie paused for a moment in consternation. “How many aces are in this deck?”

There was a pause before they all laughed.

“What’s the point?” Rory asked, tossing whatever he had left.

“What’s the point indeed?” Brodie asked. “I told you we should have played noddy—”

“I would more like to go for a jaunt of tyranny,” Kieran said, “just as soon as you two are nursed back to health enough to play a standing game.”

“We’re perfectly all right,” Rory spoke up. “Besides, I think we’ll get back going tomorrow. I thought I heard the captain talking about it.”

“Our officers have been moving around a lot more,” Ian said, “it’s bound to be tomorrow morning.”

“You ought to be well enough by now,” Kieran eyed him, “what with all of that dragon riding you’ve been doing.”

“Haven’t done it yet,
” Ian said.

“When then?”
Brodie asked.

“Tonight,” Ian said, “so long as I can manage to walk myself there.”

“Just say the word,” Brodie said as he started to deal out a new hand of cards, “if you can’t manage it, I can second you there. Carry you even, if I have to.”

“Thanks
,” Ian said, thinking to himself just how glad he was that Brodie wasn’t his second. “I’ll be sure not to have an overly large supper.”

They laughed
again, their hands being a little better this time.

Ian glanced back to where Lord Wester was sitting outside of his tent. The margrave had his reader in hand but for the moment was lost somewhere else in thought, his eyes on the lion’s hide.

*
              *              *              *

And while Maddy postponed Ian’s airborne debut one more day, their party did indeed move late the next morning after the briefest Sabbath service yet. This time it was in a direction more west than northerly, toward the Quacu Mountains in hopes of coming across some more grazing animals and maybe a leopard, since the archon’s men had mostly robbed them of that.

Being rested and healed
well enough, they made good time in navigating between the stretches of small forests that lay on the approach to the mountains. Nothing was quite the same though, as their urgency was gone, and the notion that they would soon be nearing their turn around point for the expedition as a whole.

That will be strange,
Ian thought. Perhaps he had primed his whole life for the moment when he would join the army—graduating as a ranger and then this first assignment to Orinoco had just become natural extensions to that.

That evening
, Ian took his first short trip on top of Cuppy, which ended up only consisting of getting most of the gear on and riding the wyvern on the ground. While Maddy’s caution chaffed a little, Ian could believe her assertion that it was best to begin this way, as there was plenty of art in merely directing the wyvern on the ground. Focusing as hard as he could, however, he managed to get the general directions and foot commands down within an hour. Maddy roundly complimented him on it.

Afterwards, he and Maddy set to work undoing all of the riding gear. The previous night
, Ian had volunteered instead of their servants since he needed to know how to anyway. They talked a lot, Maddy about wyverns and Gower and a number of other things. By the time they had finished, it was dark, with just a glimmer of light left on the horizon.

“Do you mind—if we wait here for a little while?” Maddy asked him.

“Um, sure,” Ian said as he set the saddle piece down, his logical thoughts balking at how much his heart rate abruptly jumped.

Hitchie
had long since come up behind them as they had worked, resolutely putting her back against them to be petted. Ian did that for a moment, watching as Maddy slid down to sit against Hitchie’s back.

After a couple of moments
, Ian shifted his weight to his other leg. Maddy briefly glanced at him before returning her eyes to the ground, staring over her arms that rested on her knees. He thought of advising that they should head back to camp, but he could find nothing compelling for it. It was growing increasingly awkward standing like that, or so his stomach and the back of his thoughts insisted. In conclusion, he broke a little and also sat back against Hitchie, a few feet away from Maddy.

“Why don’t you talk about your home more?” Maddy asked.

Ian shrugged. “There isn’t much to talk about.”

“But you live in
Wilome,” Maddy said. “Which part are you from?”

“
Laxley.”

“Oh,” she said
, without any tone of recognition. “How many siblings do you have?”

“Six
. I’m the third oldest,” Ian said, trying not to be annoyed at that, at this. He nudged his foot along Cuppy’s back, who had laid down a little ways in front of them. The wyvern lifted his head to gaze back at them, as though trying to decide if there was any real incentive for him to move back closer to them.

“Oh,” Maddy nodded. She softly kicked her feet into the dirt.

Clearly telling that she wanted more, he soldiered on. “John is my oldest brother. He went to work at a small accounting firm a few blocks away—several years ago, I guess it’s been now. It’s the best job our family has. I have another brother and four sisters.”

“What does your father do?”

“He’s dead. He died when I was young.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.
” Maddy said softly, the end of how she said it maybe even sounding mildly horrified that she’d asked, but he may have been hearing things.

After a long pause, Ian
continued again. “My mother works on and off making things in their house when she can.” He went on, touching on what his sisters were like as he stared off at where the sunset had disappeared behind the mountains. The available light shrank and grew in his vision as he talked.

“Everyone at home wishes they had been born in
Wilome,” Maddy said.

“Don’t know why,”
Ian muttered.

“Do you think it’s bad?” she asked softly.

“Oh, no,” he said, waving it off, “it’s a fine place, for what it’s worth. It’s just not where I would rather be.”

“Um,” Maddy started, but fell silent again.

He looked over at her, the best he could, as just the barest of her features were still visible. But she did look distinctly smaller, less bold. The confirmation of that was enough to make his breath a little less confident, and the anxiousness in his stomach turned some.

He should have them head back,
Ian thought. For a long moment, the words were in his mouth, but he swallowed them, not wanting to look timid. He thought she had something she wanted to tell him. Her eyes, from what he could tell, seemed to be on the ground between them.

But what could she possibly want? Nothing could come of this.

And what was there to be afraid of?

“I wish to thank you
again, milady,” he said to say something, “for allowing me to learn how to fly. I wouldn’t have guessed I’d be doing anything like this.”

She nodded, smiled he thought.
Maybe not.

She paused a moment, looking over her shoulder at him, then
she decided and turned to sit facing him.

“You’
re doing really well,” she said. “I think tomorrow you’ll be able to start flying in the air.”

“I look forward to it.”

“What do you think you’ll do after this expedition?” Maddy asked.

Ian shrugged, trying to ignore the bluntness that sprang to mind. “Whatever the army assigns me to. It’s really not up to me.”

“Oh. Of course.”

There was more stillness, Maddy working at
her hands in her lap. Ian had been running his finger in circles in the dirt, but became increasingly self-conscious of this. He stopped. Then started again because he didn’t know where else to put his hand.

“Do you think
—” Maddy asked suddenly, paused, “—will you get to see your family again soon?”

Ian shook his head
slowly.

“Well, do you think they’ll be able to visit you?”

“No,” Ian said, staring hard at her, “of course not. They couldn’t afford that.”

“I suppose not
—”

“And they’re
working, it’s not as if they have time to take holiday whenever they want. It’s hard enough as it is for them to keep up on rent and inoculations, never mind food.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean
—”

“Well, that’s most of
dreary old Wilome for you,” Ian said. “That’s the reason why I would rather not still be there, wasting life away for a handful of pence a day.”

“I wasn’t saying anything ill abou
t your family,” Maddy protested. “I know that everyone has to work.”

“How would you know
anything about working?” Ian asked.

Her hands clenched as she stood. “I know perfectly well about kinds of work you will never have to do, if that’s enough for you. And I think it should be.
”

She took up the reigns for her two wyverns and stormed off back
toward camp.

“
Good night, Private Kanters,” she called, not bothering to face him.

Standing, Ian held himself from any further comment as he knew he had already said more than he should have. He
distinctly felt his duty to escort her back to camp, though it was rivaled by his intense desire to just let the whole thing walk away. In the end, after doing his best to gather up all of the gear to carry back—no, he would have to make another trip—he settled for trailing her at a distance close enough that he could still see her, but long enough that they wouldn’t need to speak again.

It was probably for the best,
Ian thought as he made the necessary trips hauling the equipment through the dark. Nothing could come from it, and even as the bitterness of the notion that she knew what it was like to work ran over and over through his mind, it was fed and hurt by his thoughts of her sitting across from him in the dark, looking at him.

*              *              *              *

The gap remained frosty between them, with no contact made throughout the following day. That evening, her attention was wholly caught up with her sister in a determined manner. Ian did glance at her enough times to ascertain that there was going to be no wyvern lessons that night. It didn’t even appear that there would be any further conversation, as for all intents and purposes his existence wasn’t even compelling enough for Maddy’s notice to debate.

This arrangement wasn’t necessarily diff
icult—mind consuming as it was—until the usual starting time for their lesions came and began to pass after supper. He could feel it then, mixed with all of the confusing additives of guilt and uncertainty.

Kieran caught him glancing at her at one point.

“What do you care so much about, Kanters?” Kieran asked. “It’s not as though you have to be anything but polite to her.”

He glared back at Kieran, but harder parts of Ian wondered if he was right.

Their party continued on the next day, stopping once they reached the low foothills and valleys that stood between the Quacu Mountains and the plains behind them. It was too late to do much more than scout for game, so another uneventful evening passed. The following morning, the margrave was to go out with Will and Lieutenant Taylor’s men.

“
Kanters, have you seen Corporal Wesshire?” Brodie asked as Ian was tending to his uniforms.

“No, not lately.
He didn’t already leave with the margrave, did he?” Ian looked up to see the effect of his joke, since Wesshire not being with the margrave was the whole reason Brodie was looking for him.