Wanderling (Spirit Seeker Book 1) (15 page)

"You would say differently if
you lived the way we live," Tobin's voice growled. "I want to live
somewhere you can have your own home, buy your own animals, grow your own
garden. I want my sister to grow into a woman without worrying about scavenging
for food and water, and laboring in the fields all day, bearing children for
outcast scum until she grows too ill to carry on."

Adala's voice trembled with fury.
"And you can sacrifice my brother's childhood for your sister's freedom?
That's mature, Tobin. Why can't you make your own way in life? You and your
sister can move away, find your own—"

"All the water sources are
populated with clans of my mother's people. We have nowhere to run."

"Then why not go to Gerstadt
peacefully? You don't have to go in sword-wielding and demanding to conquer.”
The words kept tumbling out, Adala grasping for some common ground. She wanted
him to understand. She needed him to see there was another way. He couldn’t be
with Burano. He just couldn’t. “The city doesn't even know you exist,” she
continued. “The lord of Gerstadt is reasonable, and since you aren’t branded
you would have rights as a guest in the town. You and Sarah can go there,
explain your origins, and earn your place diplomatically."

"You're one to talk about
diplomacy!" Tobin shot back with seething words. She had never seen him
angry before, and it transformed his face. He glared at her through dark,
narrowed eyes, spitting the words through terse lips. "You don't ask
questions or hardly look at a man before swinging a punch. You're nothing but a
foolish woman, out to claim her brother to save her own pride like a child
taking back a stolen pet.”

Adala balked at his words,
speechless from his onslaught of insults.

“You don't care who you hurt in
the mean-time either,” Tobin continued in his rant, throwing his hands in the
air. “Havard, the man you stabbed when your brother was taken from Gerstadt, he
died from an infection back in the village. Did you know that? A slow death. You
killed a man and you didn't even know him. He was a decent enough man with a
wife and three children that he adored. Orphaned because of you."

Adala winced at the reminder,
recalling how easily her blade penetrated the stranger’s gut in her father’s
cottage. It seemed like ages ago, but she remembered the hot blood on her hands
and the sickness she felt in the aftermath of the fight.

"Don't you dare chastise
me," Tobin continued in a low, trembling voice. The travel party had
spread out, and the nearest riders were twenty or thirty paces away. No one to
hear their row. "You think you're a survivor because you've been a
prisoner of Burano's for a few weeks. Try being one your entire life. You have
no idea what it's like to fear for your life every single day, to depend on
others for the safety of your family. To see the man who sold your mother every
day and know that building his trust is your only option to gain freedom and
live a peaceful life. To compromise every moral you hold dear because you know
that earning respect as a soldier and helping your commander keep two innocent
prisoners is your only path to freedom and protection for those you love."

Adala stared straight ahead, her
face hot with anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
Finally, she said hoarsely, "No matter what circumstances we come from, we
all have to make choices. Whatever you say, when they get rid of me because I'm
not useful any more, my blood will be on your hands, too. But I'm sure you'll
console yourself with hollow words about how selfish a woman I was for trying
to protect my kid brother—the only family I have left."

Tobin cursed under his breath and
cued his mare forward into a canter, leaving her in a brooding silence.

Nothing could shake the sting of
Tobin's words from her head that day, nor the bitter taste in her mouth. She
tried to tell herself that he was being spiteful, jealous even. But she had
only to look around to confirm some truth in his words. The horses around her
were short and slim— not exactly prime stock. The men were better fed, but
their clothes and leather armor were old and dry-rotted—some of their blades
grew spots of rust. If these were the privileged class among the outcasts, she
couldn't imagine the extreme conditions Tobin and his sister had endured in
childhood, the conditions his sister would endure after becoming a woman.
Adala's life as a prisoner all of a sudden seemed mild—luxurious even.

"Don’t you look buried in
sorrow," Ollie barked, trotting up next to her as they rode. "Haloo!
Are you falling ill from the sun already, kid?"

"I'm just preoccupied,"
Adala muttered, shaking away her musings.

"You're out of your element
here," Ollie said darkly. "If you value your brother's life, you
won't try to escape. At sea you may know how to take care of yourself, and you
are a wildcat with a knife, but you are no match for the desert wind."

"Don't you sound
serious," she said, scowling. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you
cared for my well-being, Ollie."

He scoffed, mumbling, "Don't
be ridiculous. If you want to kill yourself trying to escape, fine by me. If we
don't kill you before you leave, the desert will kill you for us. Burano won't
care as long as he's got your brother."

She looked around the horizon,
seeing all the vast expanse of desert around them. It would be impossible to
escape anyway, she thought. You could see for miles in every direction. The
search party would find her immediately.

"What's that in the
distance?" she said, pointing to a lump on the horizon ahead of them.

Ollie stood in his stirrups.
"A rock formation," he said. "We're approaching deep clan
territory. If we have a run in with the wrong tribe out here we probably won’t
be making it back.”

That evening as they made camp,
the large rock formation loomed on the eastern horizon. Tobin was occupied most
of the evening answering Burano’s many questions about the customs and
religious beliefs of the desert dwellers. When Burano said that he needed Adala
to read more of his scrolls for information, Tobin piped up.

This is your chance to make
things right with Adala after earlier today,
he thought to himself, saying
carefully to his commander, “Have you considered allowing Shem to listen to her
when she reads?”

Burano took a second look at
Tobin, a quizzical expression on his weathered face. “I want to keep them apart
so that she doesn’t attempt escape,” he said.

Tobin nodded, adding quickly,
“That is a good practice, I am sure. However, if you are looking to appease her
for the short-term and keep her complacent, as you told me before, I think it
would help if they saw a little more of each other than just passing glances
and a word here or there. Your tent would be a good place for them to see one
another, as it is always well guarded. And if she is reading your scrolls in
here when they are together, I don’t think it will be easy for her to plot
escape.”

“You make a good argument,” Burano
said thoughtfully. “Very well, have Jarod send Shem this way. He can listen
while she reads. You can stand guard outside. If she tries anything, she may be
less likely to harm you than Jarod.”

She would take pleasure in
harming Jarod,
Tobin added to himself with some amusement. Though he wasn’t
so sure she wouldn’t enjoy a good fist fight with him after the way he reacted
earlier that day. The pang of regret still hung over him, a dark shadow at the
edge of his vision. He had no right to belittle her troubles because of his own
demons, and the insults he had hurled her way still tasted sour in his mouth.

When Shem arrived at the tent, he
greeted Tobin with a broad smile. “Tobin!” he exclaimed, flinging his arms
around his waist in a hug.

“Hey little soldier,” Tobin said
as he tousled Shem’s hair. He was taken aback by the hug, but glad to see the
young boy so excited.

“You two are awfully friendly,”
came Adala’s voice as she approached the tent.

Shem gasped and ran to throw his
arms around his sister’s neck. Adala embraced her brother, closing her eyes and
holding him to her chest for a brief second.

“Tobin persuaded me to have Shem
listen in on your reading tonight, my dear,” Burano said from the door of the
tent.

Tobin winced at his commander’s
words, feeling that his gesture to reunite Adala and Shem was somehow cheapened
when Burano tried to use it to help Tobin manipulate them. It felt dishonest.

Adala raised her eyebrows at
Tobin, then swallowed. “Thank you,” she said quietly, still resting her hands
on her little brother’s shoulders.

***

When she read that night, Tobin
listened through the canvas of the tent. She spoke about the traditions of the
Roharian people through the voice of an imprisoned monk, who described their
sunset feasts and dances in a comical manner, exaggerating every detail into a
terrifying portrait of a savage culture. It was dull, describing their dances
and prayers, plus condemning their desert gods. Tobin stopped listening to the
story and instead focused on enjoying the sound of Adala’s voice as it rang out
in the cool evening air. She spoke with a soothing voice, reading the words
steadily and with animated tones. Tobin knew she spoke in such a lively manner
for her brother’s sake, but he enjoyed hearing the tone of her voice when she
wasn’t complaining or offering a sarcastic remark. She sounded… kind.

“That’s enough for tonight. It’s
getting too dark to read anyway,” said Burano’s voice, interrupting Adala’s
story. The commander called out, saying, “Tobin, you may escort Adala back to
her belongings.”

Tobin ducked into the room.

Adala glanced at Burano. “May I
say goodbye to my brother?” she asked. At the outcast leader’s nod, she knelt
to embrace Shem, who practically knocked her over with his enthusiasm.

“I loved listening to you read,”
Shem said, arms clinging around her neck.

She kissed his forehead and
brushed his sandy hair out of his eyes.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,”
Shem said. “So we can make it back to see Mother.”

“Stay strong,” She said. “Be good.
We will go home, okay? One way or another.”

The boy nodded, smiling through
tears.

“Best get ready for supper,”
Burano said, clearing his throat. “Tobin, why don’t you take Adala on your
rounds. Gather some dried weeds for a fire, if you can. She may as well lend a
helping hand.”

Tobin nodded and gestured out the
door. Adala looked once more at Shem’s rounded face before ducking outside,
relief apparent on her face. Shem stopped Tobin on their way out and gave him a
hug goodbye, whispering, “Thank you!” before Tobin followed Adala out the door.

“What was that about?” Adala said
as Tobin guided her through the crowd of soldiers watering their horses and
unpacking dried meat and foraged greens for supper. “I didn’t know you and my
brother were such good friends.”

“I guard him, too,” Tobin said.
“You never complained when I relayed his messages to you.” They reached the
edge of the camp and continued walking toward the setting sun, out of earshot
from the bustling camp.

She shrugged. “I suppose not. It
just doesn’t feel right, you pretending to be his friend.”

Tobin breathed deeply. He struggled
to find words, as he often did when forming an apology. Words didn’t usually
come easily to him, not until they burst out, as they had earlier in the day.
But for all her faults, he knew Adala didn’t deserve the way he had treated
her, and he forced himself to find the words to make things right. “I am sorry
for losing my temper. I was wrong to speak to you like that.”

Adala pressed her lips together.
“You took things pretty damn far, Tobin. I didn’t know you could be so
vicious.”

“Neither did I,” he admitted. “I’m
sorry I directed my anger towards you.”

She let out a huge sigh, and the
tension in the air lessened. “And I’m sorry I baited you about your support for
Burano. You’re in a difficult position, more difficult than I imagined. I may
not agree with you, but I will try not to bring it up again.”

“Thank you,” Tobin said. “And I
don’t want you to think I support Burano…. It’s just that I don’t have much of
a choice. We aren’t too different, you and I. We’re both just trying to do
whatever is necessary to protect the ones we love.”

“I suppose.”

“I would never want to see you or
your brother harmed,” Tobin confessed. “If I don’t guard you, someone else
will. And some of them aren’t too nice. Jarod has been trying to persuade
Burano that he should be your main guard.”

She shuddered. “I hate him.”

Tobin nodded, sickened at the
thought of leaving Adala in Jarod’s hands full-time. He had seen the way Jarod
looked at her, and it made his blood boil just thinking about it.

“Thank you for asking Burano to
bring Shem in while I read. It means the world to me,” she said. “After
spending a whole evening with him, I can hardly be upset.”

Adala spread her arms out towards
the horizon as if to grasp the world in an embrace. “Enough negativity. It’s a
beautiful night,” she exclaimed. Not a cloud cluttered the sky, leaving only
the orange patch on the horizon where the sun was setting. The last rays of
sunset cast a golden hue that light up Adala’s unusually happy expression.

Tobin smiled to see the joy in her
face. She had her hair tied back in a braid, and it flew out behind her as she
spun in a helter-skelter pattern, recklessly staggering to and fro in her spin.
Her smile was a startling thing, after seeing her frown, smirk, and scowl most
of the time. She had a beautiful smile, her usually downturned lips curling
into a grin that made her nose scrunch.

Jarod may be a brutal, cruel
man,
Tobin thought to himself,
but he is right about one thing. I am too
attached.
“Come on, you’ve got to help me gather some brush for a fire,” he
said, looking away from her.

Adala followed Tobin’s example and
pulled some dried weeds out of the ground. There were clumps of dead bushes
here and there as well, and they had soon gathered a good sized pile of brush.

“The still air tonight reminds me
of the calm days when my father would have all of us on the ship do fighting
regimens,” she said absently, tugging at a tangled mess of brush. “I remember
the look on everyone’s faces when I first knocked a sailor on his back with my
wooden sword. By the most recent voyage, I had defeated most of the sailors at
one time or another. They knew all my tricks though, so it was hard to beat
them every time.”

“I seriously doubt you won that
often,” Tobin remarked, smiling crookedly at the thought.

"You're just sour because I
bested you when we first met." Adala laughed.

"You caught me off guard that
day we ambushed you, but not by your own skill," Tobin said resolutely,
recalling his surprise when he reached around to grasp the strap to her
satchel.

She scoffed. "You groped my
breast and then seemed shocked when I repaid you with a knife to the
throat."

"That's not true!" Tobin
bristled, his face growing hot.

"So sensitive," she
teased. "I've hardly seen you express any emotion besides gloom
today."

"Please," he said.
"You know I’m not that kind of man. I was reaching for your bag, and when
I felt you were a woman, I was startled. You got lucky and caught me off guard,
that's all."

"Now that statement is full
of deceit,” she cried in mock outrage, placing her hands on her hips. “You may
not have meant me harm, but you certainly expected to threaten me, steal my
things, and enslave me. Besides, luck has nothing to do with it. Having breasts
is one of my few natural advantages, don't you think? A lot of people don't
expect a woman to have a weapon, much less know how to use one. I will take
that advantage any day. Not that I need it to overpower you. You're too soft to
truly harm anyone."

"Too soft?" He laughed
now, a low chuckle. Jarod had accused him of the same thing, but he laughed to
think of Adala knowing anything about his fighting style. "You've barely
seen me fight. I don't blindly throw punches and swing blades like a dust storm
the way you do; I actually assess my opponent and learn their weaknesses before
my final blow."

"I've gotta see this,"
Adala said, a devilish grin on her face. "Show me your oh-so-calculated
fighting technique, and I will show you a nice view of the stars while you
writhe in agony on the ground."

"Don't be ridiculous,"
he said, dropping an armful of brush into their growing pile of fuel.

She took his arm and pulled him to
a clear spot of ground, mostly free of rocks and brush. "No really, I'm
curious. We can't let my skills go to rot while your boss has me prisoner. I
need a little practice to keep me in shape."

"No," he said flatly.

She circled him. "If you
won't fight me, I guess I will just walk away. It's a beautiful night to begin
my journey home."

"You aren't that
stupid," he said, maneuvering to block her path.

"I guess I am," she
said, stepping around him.

He touched her arm, panic
beginning to rise in his throat. "Adala, you have no supplies and no hope
of finding water out there. Burano will send a group to scout for you and you
will be caught by sunrise."

"Then you better stop me
now," she said, “show me your moves.”

Tobin sighed impatiently. “I
suppose I’d take your arm like this,” he said, reaching out.

Adala darted left, and her arm
shot out to lightly slap his shoulder. “I just stabbed your shoulder,” she
said. “Poor reflexes.”

“Okay,” he said, “we can do this.”
He stepped forward with his right foot to grab her arm again, but she jammed
her heel into his shin in return.

He released her arm, leaning
forward for a split second while the pain shot through his leg. Adala took hold
of his shoulders and jabbed her knee into his gut. She wasn’t too rough, just
enough to take his breath away for a minute. He gasped, stepping backwards.

“Defend yourself. You can’t be too
honorable to fight back or you’re dead in a fight,” she taunted.

Tobin's arms clenched and he threw
a light punch at her stomach, nothing with too much force—just enough to show
her he could do it.

"Not bad," she breathed.
She looked alive, eyes wide with the thrill of their fight. "But if it
were a real fight, you would still be punching me." She swung for his jaw,
but he dodged. He blocked the next three blows, then grabbed her fist on the
next swing and wrenched her wrist backwards into a hold that he knew was
painful. She gasped, sucking in her next breath.

"You rely too much on brute
force," he said in her ear, then raised an elbow to block a flailing
stroke from her left fist. "You have the speed necessary, but when you're
a smaller opponent already, you need to go for pressure points."

She brought her knee swiftly into
his groin without warning, forcefully enough to cause his eyes to water. He
released her from the hold, staggering backwards.

"Is
that
a pressure
point?" she spat, massaging her wrist and kicking his ribs lightly while
he was doubled over.

“That was dishonorable,” Tobin
groaned. For her second kick, he rolled to the side and grabbed her supporting
ankle, pulling her foot out from under her.

She landed on her backside with a
thump, but Tobin wasn't finished. He launched himself at her, and they rolled,
her kicking and scratching in the dust. When they stopped, his weight held her
to the ground. She scrambled to unsheathe the knife at his belt, but he pinned
her arms to the ground, locking eyes with her one-on-one.