His gaze rested on Jace, who looked so lost. “I’m sorry. I know this is the only home you’ve ever known, but we can’t stay here.”
Jace’s expression hardened. “Why? Why can’t we stay?”
“More men will come.”
A flame jumped into Jace’s eyes and was the only bit of light Rayad had seen all morning. “Then we’ll stand and fight them like we did now.”
“Jace.” Rayad’s voice extended sympathy and understanding. Of course Jace would want to fight for this place, same as he had fought for his own home. “We can’t face them all. Eventually, they’d overwhelm us, and it would only result in many dead. There’s a time to stand and fight, but it isn’t now.”
The fire drained from Jace’s eyes, and his shoulders slumped.
Rayad rose again to head to the barn, which was the only thing left standing of the life they’d both come to love. He looked back down at Jace, his words rough. “We’ll get through this.”
When Rayad returned with the wagon, Jace climbed up beside him, his muscles aching as if he’d been pummeled, and they drove off to the rock piles around the fields. It took them most of the morning to collect enough stones for the graves. Jace worked without speaking until sweat rolled down his face and back. Nauseating waves of heat followed by icy chills alternated through his body. At times, faintness almost sent him to his knees, and the coughing spells persisted in their frequency. By the time they finished and sat in the back of the wagon to rest, he verged on collapsing.
“We’ll see what supplies we can put together,” Rayad said as he leaned against the side of the wagon. “We’ll take the extra horses to Kinnim and sell them to the blacksmith. Then we can buy whatever supplies we lack from Laytan.”
Jace’s eyes darted to him. “We’re going to Kinnim?” What if they ran into Morden? An inkling of the rage from yesterday coursed through his blood.
Rayad gave a slow nod. “We need the money.” He paused. “You don’t have to go into town.”
But Jace hung his head. Any bit of heat died, requiring too much energy to sustain it. He wouldn’t have the strength to face Morden even if he wanted to. “I’ll be fine.”
Rayad slid off the wagon. “We should get moving. We don’t want to leave a fresh trail for Dagren’s men.”
“Where will we go?” Jace had seen many places, but how could anywhere come close to this? Another cold shiver passed through him. The world was a dark place outside this valley. Could he face it again? Nausea threatened to turn his stomach inside out.
“I’m not sure. East, maybe. The farther east we go, the farther we’ll be from Daican’s influence.”
He climbed to the wagon seat. Jace remained still, not sure if he could move. Back at the barn, Rayad drove the wagon inside to unhitch. Forcing his limbs to work, Jace slid down, but every movement felt as though he were partially detached from his own body. Right now, he just didn’t want to feel anything.
“Why don’t you gather the horses,” Rayad told him. “I’ll release the rest of the animals.”
His voice stuck in his throat, Jace walked outside. The seven soldiers’ horses grazed behind the barn with Aldor’s second plow horse. He patted the large, blue-roan workhorse on the side and focused on anything but having to sell the familiar animals. Working numbly, he tied them all together and led the whole string around front.
When he reached the open yard between the barn and the remains of the cabin, he froze. A strange man had just dismounted a tall, roan horse. Jace’s senses sharpened in an instant as his mind shot warning signals through his nerves. People didn’t drop by for visits way out here, and after what just happened, he wasn’t about to trust anyone. Dagren could have sent this man too, even if he didn’t wear the black and gold of the soldiers. Jace didn’t know him, and that made him an enemy until proven otherwise.
He dropped the horses’ rope and moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, his fingers finding their familiar place on the cool leather grip. At the same time, the man turned and spotted him.
“Hello there.” His voice was deep and friendly but did nothing to ease Jace’s suspicions. A pleasant face could hide all sorts of evil.
The man stood and waited for a reply. He was tall and broad with the stance of a warrior—a formidable opponent if he chose to fight. His short hair and thick beard were dark chestnut, but peppered with gray. The silence lengthened between them, and the man shifted. His gray eyes swept Jace up and down. Definitely a fighter.
“I’m looking for a man named Rayad. Is he around?”
This all but a confirmed Jace’s suspicions. Why would any stranger be out here looking for Rayad if not to cause him harm? He narrowed his eyes, tightening his fingers around his sword, and withdrew the blade a couple of inches. If this man wanted Rayad dead, he’d have to kill Jace first. “What do you want with him?”
The hint of a smile the man had maintained faded at the ice in Jace’s tone. He straightened and planted his feet, resting a hand on his own long sword as he considered Jace. They stared at each other for a long moment and waited for one or the other to make a move.
“It’s all right, Jace.” Rayad’s voice broke into the stare-down.
Jace swung his eyes around to the barn door. Rayad gave him a nod. “He’s a friend.”
Jace let his sword slide back into place as Rayad walked toward the stranger.
“Rayad.” The man blew out a great sigh and visibly relaxed. “Thank the King you’re alive.”
He held out a hand, and Rayad clasped his forearm.
“Still breathing, by His grace.”
Jace eyed the two of them, not quite free of suspicion. Rayad hadn’t had contact with anyone outside the area in three years. Things changed. Even old friends could prove to be enemies.
Rayad turned back to him and motioned him over. “Jace, come meet my friend, Warin.”
Recognition of the name prompted Jace forward, but he watched the man’s reaction closely. Rayad made introductions, and Warin’s gaze lingered for a telling moment. Jace tensed. He had to see it—every hint of his ryrik blood that was impossible to hide.
“What brings you here?” Rayad asked, alleviating the awkwardness of the moment.
Glancing once more at Jace, Warin said, “It’s a long story, but after we left Troas, I managed to keep tabs on Dagren. A week ago, I received word he’d found you and was sending out men. I set out right away to warn you, but…” he glanced at the smoldering rubble behind him, “it looks like I’m too late.”
Rayad winced. “They attacked yesterday morning while Jace and I were in town. They killed Kalli and Aldor.”
Jace’s heart constricted at the words. He still couldn’t reconcile it in his mind.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reach you in time. If I’d only known sooner.”
“You tried.”
Warin’s eyes swept the farm and landed on the string of horses. “What do you plan to do now?”
“Leave,” Rayad answered simply. “Dagren will surely send more men.”
“Where will you go?”
Jace caught a glance from Rayad, and that one look set his gut to writhing. Why did he get the sense things were about to change, but not for the better?
“We haven’t decided yet.”
“Can’t say I’m sorry to hear that, because I was hoping you’d come back with me.”
“Where to?”
Warin’s voice lowered as if he might be overheard by unfriendly ears. “I’m part of a new group. Resistance to Emperor Daican is growing…and there’s rumor of war.”
Jace flinched at the word group. Joining up with a band of resistance leaders was not the future he had in mind. Better to head off into the wilderness far away from people. Only there would he find any hope of peace.
But Rayad’s face expressed interest. “War?”
“Unfortunately.”
Rayad glanced at Warin’s horse. Sweat darkened the animal’s coat. “Why don’t you take your hor
se to the water trough, and we can sit down so you can tell me what’s going on.”
Once Warin’s horse had taken a long drink and was grazing nearby, Rayad and Warin settled down on a bench while Jace leaned back against the barn, arms crossed, to listen in. His entire future hinged on this conversation. Even before they began, he mentally urged Rayad to send his friend away so they could get on with rebuilding their shattered life.
“So fill me in,” Rayad said.
Warin did not speak immediately. His eyes drifted to Jace again. Jace met the lack of trust with a cold look, but Rayad assured his friend, “You can speak freely.”
Satisfied with Rayad’s word, Warin began, “Emperor Daican has been biding his time, securing his forces, putting men in place, but now he’s ready to start making his moves. We already know he’s had people killed for not worshipping his false gods, but it was always done quietly. However…” He paused again with the briefest glance at Jace and then around the yard. His voice dropped almost to a whisper. “We have allies inside Daican’s palace, and we’ve received word that the next person caught refusing to worship Aertus and Vilai will be publically executed in Valcré. Daican will declare it a crime to practice any other form of religion. He’s just waiting for the right incident.”
Rayad scowled. “I knew it would come to this.”
“Yes, but there’s more,” Warin went on. “Daican is working to expand Arcacia’s borders. The area of Dorland west of the Trayse River has already fallen under his rule. Who’s to say he won’t try for the rest of Dorland?”
“The giants and cretes would never stand for it. The giants may not be a fighting people, but they won’t just let Daican walk in and take over. Not if the cretes have anything to say about it.”
“Yes, but even with a combined force of giants and cretes, it would be hard to outmatch Arcacia’s military. More than half of Ilyon is already under Arcacia’s rule. The fear now is that Daican’s trying to control the entire continent.”
Rayad sat back, and his eyes registered understanding. “To turn Arcacia into an empire…” He shook his head. “I always suspected he had some grand scheme behind changing the royal title from king to emperor.”
Jace clenched his teeth. Daican was ultimately responsible for Kalli and Aldor’s murders, and if he sought this kind of power, it was one more reason to take to the wilderness where no one could find them.
“There are no set plans for any invasions,” Warin said, “but talk is growing. Our greatest fear is Samara. It’s sure to be the first place Daican strikes.”
“No one has ever breached Stonehelm, and I’ve heard their king, though young, is a smart and valiant leader. As small as Samara is, their faith has preserved them. Attacking them would be a bold move, even for Daican.”
“It’s true King Balen leads them well,” Warin acknowledged, “but, unfortunately, Samara’s faith has grown weak. And, if Daican releases a concentrated flood of men against them, even the strongest defenses might fall under the sheer weight of numbers. Against the entirety of Arcacia’s forces, Samara would be overrun. Even King Balen is concerned.”
“How do you know this?”
“We have a couple of Samarans in our group. They’ve joined our efforts to resist Daican.” Warin paused with a hopeful look. “We want you to join us.”
Rayad glanced up, and Jace gave his head the slightest shake. Don’t.
Exhaling, Rayad focused again on Warin. “And what’s the purpose of your group?”
“There were three of us hiding out near Keaton—all wanted by the emperor’s men. We gathered information, mostly. A few months ago, we headed north to Landale. The baron there is secretly a follower of the King, and it’s through him we receive our information. When Daican makes his declaration against the followers of Elôm, there will be many people running for their lives. It’s our goal to provide shelter and rescue for those we can. The forest outside of Landale is vast, and the baron’s son, Trask, has set up a camp where we can all hide. We also plan to train any who are willing to form a militia of sorts. If war comes to Samara, they’ll need all the help they can get.”
Rayad responded with silence, and Jace could only hope he’d decline. They’d had enough trouble involving the emperor.
After a moment, Warin urged, “If we don’t stand up now to resist this, we may not be able to later.”
Rayad gave a slow nod, but said, “I need to discuss it with Jace.”
Warin looked at him again, his expression free of any hostility or resentment. “Very well.”
He rose and walked away toward his horse to leave Rayad and Jace to speak in private.
“I won’t go,” Jace said, addressing the unspoken question. He’d go off into the wilderness alone if he had to, but he wouldn’t get involved with this.
“Why not?”
“Too many people.” He grimaced at the very thought of joining a group larger than the three he’d lived with these years. “They won’t trust me. He doesn’t trust me.” He gestured toward Warin. The man might not be hostile, but he was wary. “Everyone sees I’m different, and they don’t like it.”
“Just give Warin time to get to know you. Time is all most people need. You and I didn’t trust each other at first either.”
Jace shook his head and looked away, crunching his teeth together. It was rarely that simple. Not in Kinnim, not anywhere. People feared him, and that fear usually led to mistreatment. Rayad, Kalli, and Aldor had been exceptions he couldn’t count on finding anywhere else.
“Jace,” Rayad said quietly. “We wouldn’t be going for ourselves, but to serve others. Ilyon is about to become a very dangerous place for those of us who follow the King. You and I are capable of defending ourselves against the emperor, but most are not. There will be hundreds, if not thousands, of men, women, and children who will be at Daican’s mercy. If we leave and hide away somewhere as we planned, we’ll be turning our backs to all this when we could offer aid and, perhaps, make a difference.”
Jace still wouldn’t look at him, his eyes set on the nearby trees that beckoned to him. He had to fight every impulse he had to flee the situation.
Rayad rose to stand facing him and pressed on. “You know what it’s like to be powerless, and you saw yesterday what happens to those who can’t defend themselves from the emperor.”
Jace’s chest tightened with pain. Powerlessness. Yes, he understood that. It seemed to have control of his spiraling life right now. Uncertainty of the future battled against everything Rayad said. Breathing raggedly, he met Rayad’s eyes. He had no true confidence in his words, but he said, “All right.”
His insides revolted over what he’d done, but Rayad’s slight smile carried pride over the decision. He put a firm hand on Jace’s shoulder. “It might not be the easiest choice, but it’s the right one.”
Jace gave a helpless nod and tried to convince himself that were true.
Jace let Niton trail behind Aros while he sank deep inside himself—a dark hideaway of old familiarity. He hadn’t allowed himself to think when Rayad sold Aldor’s plow horses and all but one of the soldiers’ mounts. The one they kept was loaded up with their supplies and plodded along next to him. He gathered just enough energy to glance over at the horse, where Tyra lay nestled between two bundles. Satisfied, he dragged his eyes back to the road ahead.
People crisscrossed the main street of Kinnim as they rode toward the mercantile, but the village was quiet with most of the traveling merchants having already gone. Now that the cabin had burned, the only possessions Jace and Rayad had left were the few items in their saddlebags. They didn’t even have a spare change of clothes, and neither had any desire to wear the extra uniforms in the soldiers’ bags. But Warin kept them and the weapons, saying they could be useful at camp.
At the shop, Rayad dismounted first. Jace slid down next, but it took effort. His entire body hurt, especially his chest. The coughing fits still plagued him despite the cool, fresh air, and he couldn’t hop
e for relief anytime soon. The last time he’d inhaled too much smoke from the smokehouse, he’d been ill for days.
Laytan stood at the counter and frowned when they entered, no doubt surprised to see them two days in a row. His eyes narrowed at the sight of Jace, then slid suspiciously to Warin. He watched them out of the corner of his eye as they moved farther into the shop, but didn’t ask any questions. They gathered their supplies—just the basics they would need for the journey. Arms full, they approached the counter where Rebekah’s voice sounded from behind her father.
“Are you going somewhere?” She came up beside Laytan and eyed the supplies before turning her questioning gaze to the men themselves.
“We’re leaving,” Rayad said.
Rebekah gave a delicate frown. She opened her mouth to question them, but Jace’s coughing cut her off. Though he tried to suppress it, his lungs burned too fiercely. Rebekah’s eyes fell on him. She gasped at the blood spattering his hand when he pulled it away from his mouth. Ignoring her father’s grunt of protest, she rushed around the counter and put a light hand on his arm.
“Jace! What’s wrong?”
He shook his head and managed a rough, “I’m fine.”
“It’s the curse, Rebekah,” her father hissed.
She shot him a disapproving frown, but her face softened when her eyes returned to Jace. “What happened?”
Jace glanced at Rayad, and his voice caught in his throat. Could he say it? It hurt so much. “Kalli and Aldor are dead…murdered.”
Rebekah’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, Jace, I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, tears turning her eyes a watery blue. “Who would do such a thing?”
“Rebekah,” Laytan’s sharp voice cut in, “I think it’s time they left.” It was more than a friendly suggestion.
The buildup of emotion in Jace’s chest brought on more painful coughing and made him gasp for breath. He hated for Rebekah to see it—or her father, since it would only confirm what he said.