The night passed quietly.
“Blessed be the twins.” Letti said as she sat up. Candor had insisted that Letti sleep after they saw the fire the night before. Candor, she noticed, had her new sword slung across her lap.
“Not a peep from the forest.” Candor smiled and brushed some of her hair out of her eyes. “But the birds have returned.”
Letti raised her eyebrows. Candor gestured. Outside the mouth of the alcove, several hawks sat sunning themselves in the trees below.
“Well look at that.” Letti murmured.
After some more fish, and this time tomatoes, Candor and Letti donned their packs- “mine is getting lighter” said Letti- and tried to set a course through the valley to wall-like road.
“I’d really rather stay on the ridge.” Letti chuffed, their thighs screaming as they made their way down the far side of the mountain.
“Seems a little silly to stay on the ridge when we can see the Great Stone Way.”
“That and there’s no crossover.” Letti had been very disappointed in the Kotemor’s geography; none of the spurs from their ridgeline or the next connected. There was nothing for it but to ford the valley.
“Hopefully there’s a stream between here and there.” Candor sniffed. “I could use a wash.”
Letti chuckled. Both girls, accustomed to regular saltwater baths, did not appreciate their own body odor. “Maybe it will keep things away from us.”
“Or act like a beacon.” Candor grimaced. “Nothing for it.”
They trudged downhill, using the trees in an opposite method to their trek up the side of the mountain. Instead of pulling themselves up, Candor and Letti almost fell trunk to trunk, catching themselves before gravity tore them through brambles down to the valley.
Soon, their muscles screamed, and Letti worried her legs were going to give out.
“Candor,” Letti leaned against a tree. “Candor, give me a minute.”
Candor paused and turned her back to the valley, resting her quadriceps. She reckoned that her training with Mo offered her a slight advantage; her muscles were less stiff than they had been the day before, though her feet were near to bleeding through her boots. Letti’s appendages were worse.
“How far do you think we’ve gone?” Letti asked.
Candor considered. “Well,” she calculated, “I couldn’t tell you how tall the teeth are. But if we were on flat ground, I think it would shake out to just under twenty span? Maybe?” Candor frowned. “We went straight up the mountain, so while it felt like it took a while, it probably wasn’t more than 12 span straight up.” A span measured about 1600 lengths, and a length ran the distance of a man’s nose to his fingertip. “The elevation change was probably about two thousand to three thousand lengths though.”
Candor made to continue their descent.
“It feels further.” Letti muttered but wrenched her legs forward. Swimming, she had discovered, did not physically condition one to climb mountains.
The day passed in companionable silence. Neither girl dispensed energy on idle chatter; each was more concerned with staying upright than discussing their trajectory. Once more, their surroundings fell to shade with the briefest patches of light falling on bright blooms between the dim trunks. Candor was heartened to see that this side of the mountain bore fewer prickers, though the undergrowth was much thicker. At times, she couldn’t see her feet as they plunged through thick ferns. Their descent seemed to pass faster than their ascent the previous day, and in the height of the afternoon, or what Letti guessed was near to it, they began to hear the ripple of running water.
Candor looked over her shoulder to Letti, who had braced against a tree. This one covered top to bottom in a slick lime colored moss. She smiled and touched her ear. Letti nodded.
Shuffling more quickly, the girls finally fell upon level earth.
“Glad it’s not as flat as the terrace.” Candor mumbled.
Letti nodded fervently. Neither friend was inclined to engage with more constructed landscapes. Taking a few steps forward, Candor hissed as her boot sank into the earth up to her calf. “Stones!” She swore. With a large sucking sound, Candor removed her foot and surveyed the area. An unpleasantly cool dampness seeped through her pants, even as she tried to scrape the mud off.
“Look.” Letti pointed to a trail of rocks that poked up through the dark mud. “It’s a bridge.”
“Too right it is.” Candor muttered but backed away from the flat forest floor and made picked her way to the flat stones. Gingerly, Candor tested the first before she stepped on it. It remained in place. As fast as they dared, Candor and Letti hopped across the stone bridge, packs flopping on their backs.
“Blessed be the twins.” Candor sighed, as the far side of the stones gave way to hard, dry ground.
To their front, a large stream swirled to the south, its currents rippling over rocks. The water moved fast enough that Candor felt confident they could drink it and gestured to Letti to open her pack.
Less than enthused at filling her lightening pack, Letti plopped her sack down and drew out the whale’s stomach. It lurched with the momentum, dropping over Letti’s feet.
“Here.” Candor reached for it and waded into the river. Opening the top, she held it as far up as its shape would allow and took one final draught. Then, splaying the mouth as wide as it would go, dipped the sack into the oncoming water. After a few moments, Candor waded back to Letti, who took the bulging sack, and tucked it back into her ruck.
Both girls then quickly undressed and waded to the center of the stream. Candor did not enjoy the mud that squished between her toes, desperately missing the fine sand of her sea. Scrubbing their clothes, the girls hastened back to shore, neither keen on remaining vulnerable.
“How are your feet?” Candor asked Letti, inspecting her own.
“More blister than skin.” Letti shrugged. “They’ll callous.”
Candor agreed, but the thought of donning her wet socks and boots was dreadfully unappealing. “Stay here. I’m going to try to find a hameus plant.” Letti nodded. Trying not to dampen the contents of Candor’s pack, Letti began to pull out Candor’s extra clothing. Dressed, though with damp boots, Candor began to move along the shores of the river, checking each set of leaves on the plants carefully. Letti had been right, Candor noticed. There were regular groupings of plants, each with its own distinct boundaries that harbored specific flowers, mosses, and trees. Most of the plants Candor did not recognize, but about a hundred lengths down the stream, she chanced upon a glimpse of a small bed of white flowers set off the streambed. Careful not to sink to her knee again, Candor knelt by the hameus, a plant her mothers had used many times to sooth sunburns and scrapes and plucked a handful. Nearer to the base of the trees that encircled the hameus, bloomed fluffy purple flowers. Yes. Candor could have crowed. Flushed with her success, Candor snapped a few sprigs and added them to her bundle. Casting a glance at the trees and surrounding bushes, Candor noted the pattern and the partners of this particular symbiosis. It almost bespoke a garden, Candor thought, as she noticed the smallness of the sycamores. Discomfited by that thought, Candor returned to Letti, chewing the hameus and a sprig of the lavender.
Letti sat, stretched out by the brook, waiting for Candor. Feeling the stiffness begin to set into her legs, Letti stood and began to flow through the Aiadar, moving her feet as gently as possible. She wished for a little sun to dry her boots and socks, but the canopy of the valley was as unforgiving as the steep sides of the Kotemor. Here and there a few beams of light perforated the green underbelly, but rarely, and inconsistently.
Letti stopped moving. Moving to one of the patches of sunshine, Letti considered her surroundings. She looked up at the branches far above her head, then down at the incredibly green forest floor. She peered at the flowers that had seemed so innocent not a few moments before and realized what was niggling at the back of her brain. There should not have been that much growth for how little sun the forest received. There most certainly should not be this many blooms, Letti thought, moving further away from their packs. And the green of the ferns and lichen and moss were too rich to be deprived of that many solar nutrients.
Caught in her musings, Letti spun back towards the packs, lest Candor return and find her missing. As she turned, something caught her eye. Letti stopped, trying to figure out what she had glimpsed. Brushing aside some ferns, Letti discovered what her peripherals had not managed to decipher. Pressed deep into the mud, the print of a gigantic paw stared up at Letti.
The pad of the print was big enough for Letti’s entire hand to fit inside without touching its perimeter. At its top were four large toe prints, each capped with a wicked looking claw. Letti’s gut clenched. Starting forward, she brushed a few more ferns away, then sat back, puzzled. The tracks led away from the stream but were distinctly two footed. Letti had expected four tracks, the large bear being an indicator of animals in the mountains. Whatever this creature was, Letti shivered, walked on two legs.
As fast as she could, Letti made her way back to the packs, washed her feet quickly, and waited. Candor arrived a few moments later and spat a chunk of cud into her hand.
“Here.” She let the slimy mass slip onto Letti’s outstretched hand. “Put it on your blisters and put your socks back on.
Privately thinking this was a terrible idea, Letti did as she was told. “Not exactly a mortar and pestle.” She joked halfheartedly.
Candor winked. “Better than nothing.” Candor then commented about the tiny carpet of hameus. “Could have been a garden.”
Letti paled. “I found a few prints here too.” Letti pressed the pulp onto her open sores and felt almost immediate relief. “They looked like claws, maybe wolf, but it walked upright.”
Candor stilled. “Let’s get a bit up the next hill before we stop again.”
Letti nodded. They had an hour or so left of the dim light, and they shouldered their packs. Fording the river at a narrower part upstream, Letti pointed at the tracks and Candor took a quick look.
Grimacing, she said, “Twins above, I hope we don’t meet whatever these are.”
Letti could not agree more and was thus less apprehensive of beginning another trek to the heavens.
“No birds.” Candor stopped and peered at the branches in slight alarm.
“No, there’s one.” Letti gestured to a small, panicked tweet from somewhere above.
“That’s reassuring.” Candor trudged forward.
“Maybe it’s because it’s getting dark.” Letti frowned but followed Candor up through a few patches of brambles.
Finally, it grew too dusky to continue, and the two girls found a small outcropping of rock to rest.
“I have first watch.” Candor insisted, biting into a bruised peach.
Letti stripped off her boots and socks, turned the latter inside out, and laid back on the rock. Candor perched, laying her grey sword across her knees. It had been a few days now, she realized, since she had practiced sparring. She suppressed a small fear of atrophy and promised herself she would cross blades with Letti the next day.
Quietly, the unrelenting darkness fell, and hours passed. The air felt different on this side of the stream; it pressed upon her lungs like a heavy cloth. Some cloying scent of flowers wafted through the air, and Candor covered her mouth, near to retching. Underneath the floral scent drifted the unmistakable scent of rotting meat. Feeling around her pack, Candor found one of Letti’s shawls, and tied it around her face. The smell lessened, and Canor returned to listening. No bats visited, and Candor grew increasingly lonely. Once more was she visited by the panicky fear that drove her to run, and once more, she breathed through it. She wondered if Letti felt the same terror when she was on shift. If she did, she hadn’t mentioned it.
Finally, Candor felt Letti and shook her away, stripping her own boots and socks off, and handing Letti her dagger. Letti, still groggy, pulled on her still-wet boots and stockings, and moved to the packs, leaving the warm blankets for Candor to fill.
Letti sat, back against her pack, and stared into the inky darkness. She tried holding her hand in front of her face, experimenting with the distance. The night did not offer her any reprieve; Letti could touch her face and still did not see her palm. She sighed, quietly. Watch was fairly useless without light, she thought to herself. The bats were the only reason they had survived their encounter with the mountain bear.
As the early morning hours wore on, sounds of the forest shuddered. Crickets and small chirpings of other busy insects died out, and the air stilled around Letti’s skin. Letti heard a deep creaking echo up the hill, as if a tree were quaking in heavy wind.
Behind Letti’s stomach, a deep fear began to throb, quickening her pulse, and leaving her breathless. They were not alone. Through Letti’s vision flashed all the nightmares of her childhood; the large worms of the sea whose head bore nothing but rows and rows of teeth, the spirits with glowing eyes the older children had told her come for little girls when they’d been bad, and the clear fish through which one could see their prey being digested. Letti thought of the bear and the footprints and the fire from the night before and conjured in her mind all manner of monsters coming straight for them.
Almost debilitated with fear, Letti pressed her feet into the ground and felt the sharp sting of her fresh skin pushing back against her boots. It settled her. She began to breathe again, drenched in a cold sweat.
A strand of her hair brushed past her face, and Letti felt a change in the air. A breeze tickled her cheeks, on it a most wonderful scent of flowers and spice. She inhaled deeply; never had she smelled anything so intriguing. At once, her fear vanished, and Letti smiled lazily. What flowers must be these to offer such a scent. Letti almost laughed.
If she had not been staring aimlessly, head cast back over her pack, she would not have seen the pair of eyes. Red and glowing, they pierced her gaze from the darkness. Letti’s heart stuttered, and the scent on the air redoubled. In that moment of doubt, Letti grasped her situation. Placing her hand over her mouth and nose, she rolled to her right and landed on Candor.
Bolting upright, Candor coughed slightly, gagging, before replacing the shawl over her nose and mouth. The smell was overwhelming. Candor felt Letti’s hand on the back of her head, guiding her vision up the mountain.
She saw them, slinking closer. There were three pairs of eyes now, all glowing a wretched, blood red like something out of her deepest nightmare. Scrambling to her feet, Candor drew her sword. Without light, Candor knew, she had no chance in a fight. Their best weapon at night was stealth, and they no longer possessed that tool.
Candor reached around and drew Letti up, maneuvering the girl until her back was to Candor’s. Candor did not want to accidentally hit Letti when she began swinging wildly, which, as of that moment, was her plan. Candor ground her teeth. This was not how she had intended to die. The eyes stopped perhaps seven lengths up the hill. Candor bared her teeth as a low growl emanated from the creatures. What were they waiting for?
A few more eyes blinked into the line, and they restarted their slow approach. Oh, thought Candor, that’s what they were waiting for.
With one desperate ploy at hand, Candor let out a high, piercing cry and charged up the hill, adrenaline masking the tearing of her feet.
Before she could take more than two steps, the world grew still and a light flared to her right, a few lengths up the mountain. A large flame flickered at the end of a wide torch, but that was the extent of Candor’s observation as her eyes blinked rapidly. Before her crouched six of the most horrifying creatures Candor had ever seen. Standing nearly two lengths tall stooped, Candor was certain that once they stood, they would stand well over three.
She did not have to wait long for this prediction to bear truth. As the light flickered through across the side of the mountain, burning all the brighter for the dark of the night, the six creatures drew themselves up, eyes narrowed. Covered in dark fur, the creatures’ heads drew into long snouts, snarling in anger at the light. Their legs, Candor noted belatedly, stretched into points where their calves should have been, before culminating into enormous paws. These were the creatures whose footprints Letti had seen. The last things Candor noted before the moment passed, were the creatures’ wicked-looking swords. Long, dented, and rounded on one side at the tip, they winked evilly. Unable to tear her eyes from the creatures, Candor noticed belatedly that the elevation of the light had changed, as if its holder had dropped it to the ground. The center wolf-man threw back his head and howled, nearly deafening Candor. She heard Letti whimper behind her as the sound tapered to a close; it had not sounded like the howls they occasionally heard from the Kotemor. This yowl sounded like a human had merged its cry with a wolf. It was unearthly, unnerving, and it elicited the same panicky fear that plagued her on her shifts. Candor gripped her sword and yelled back.
With growls and yips that seemed to crackle the air in front of them, the wolf-beings charged. Sword up, Candor lifted her knees and ran headlong into their fight. Out of the corner of her eye, Candor noticed a large human shape barrel towards her through the firelight.
Catching the first creature’s blade, Candor spun, slipping under its arm and sitting back upon the hill. She now had the high ground. Two of the creatures spun, even as the other four bore down on Letti.
“No!” Candor screamed, parrying and kicking as the creatures snapped at her. As Candor fought, her lessons with Mo drove her movements; these creatures did not look like humans, but their swords swung the same.
With a feint towards the center of both snouts, Candor parried one strike on the left, spinning to her knees and thrusting up her sword through the bottom of the head of one creature.
The other whimpered and bared its teeth. Candor, once more on the low ground, turned and sprinted back down to Letti, diving onto the back of one wolf-man. Capitalizing on its confusion, she slit its throat and jumped off as it fell, rolling down the mountain. Candor felt alive. Her blood sang, and she grinned savagely at the encroaching creatures. [MOU2] She realized after a moment, that a large man stood a few lengths to her left, behind him cowered Letti, fist white around her dagger.
Unable to offer the pair any more attention, Candor ducked and maintained the top of her ear by half a hair. Angered by her lapse in concentration, Candor whirled, slashing and dancing until one of the creatures lost a leg, and the other hopped away, red eyes afraid of the white-haired fighter. Dispatching the one-legged beast, Candor returned to Letti, around whom were scattered various limbs of the creatures. The man seemed to have taken a pruning approach, lopping off various pieces before going for any vital organs.
“You ok?” Candor bent to touch Letti, who had curled into a ball on the side of the mountain. Letti nodded. “Where is he?”
Letti pointed to the fire, which, Candor was pleased to see, had not spread. At one point she had been sure the fire was devouring the forest floor, but now it bobbed at chest level down through the branches to the girls.
“He saved me.” Letti whispered. Two deep scratches dripped blood down her face. Candor took her chin and angled her cheek toward the approaching illumination. Its flickering did not lend her enough light to assess their depth.
“Hello.” The man stopped far enough from Candor and Letti that he was out of easy reach with a sword.
“Greetings.” Candor and Letti both touched their fingertips to their mouths and offered their palms.
The man lifted his fist to his mouth, kissed his thumb, and offered his palm in return. Startled, both girls stepped back. The gesture the large man offered reflected the formality of their meeting. Rarely, if ever, did anyone in the village return their greeting with the ceremonial response
“Who are you?” Candor spoke first but relaxed her posture somewhat. She did not sheath her sword.
The man seemed satisfied that Candor would not attack him and stepped closer to the girls. Shoving the pointed end of the torch into the ground, he glanced at Candor before kneeling to look at Letti’s cheek.
“I am Thorn.” His voice rumbled warmly, like the tumbling of rocks down a cliff. It did not ring like any voice Candor had ever heard; there almost seemed to be another tenor in harmony with the baritone. His dusky skin resembled Lola’s, and his beard bore a scattering of silver hair, betraying his age.
He did not move as though he possessed that age, Candor noted. The only other people she had known with such grace were Mo, and of course, herself.
“I’m Letti.” Letti finally released her dagger at a gentle pressure from Thorn’s big hand.
“Candor.” Candor muttered as Thorn looked up at her.
“And where,” Thorn’s accent was clipped, and he dropped the last consonant of the word, “are you coming from?”
Both Candor and Letti hesitated. Neither had anticipated having to explain what they were doing so close to the remains of their village.
“We live over the far ridge.” Candor finally stated. “We’re trying to reach the Great Stone Way.”
If Thorn was surprised at this revelation, he did not show it. “These are not safe mountains for the young.”
“What were those things?” Letti breathed. Her cheeks were regaining some color, and she held the small cloth Thorn had given her on her cuts.
“They are known as Baitrae . Thorn glanced around. “Long ago, as majik found itself stifled in these mountains, strange things began to grow here, grow and change. As the Fae tried to find ways to fight back against the humans, they experimented with martial majik in ways that created new things, things that should not be, but are.” Thorn ran a hand over his short hair. Candor noticed he wore a tiny gold ring in the lobe of his left ear, and a small gold stud glittered in the cartilage of his right. A few of the men of the village wore jewelry like this; they were family heritages upon which hung stories of their ancestors’ bravery. Candor resolved to ask him about them sometime.
“Thank you for the light.” Candor finally sheathed her sword. “What are you doing here?”
Thorn scrutinized at her, but Candor did not lower her gaze. She was accustomed to uncommonly long stares, both from her appearance and from Lola as her mother contemplated what parenting method to use at a particular moment.
Finally, grimacing, Thorn dropped his eyes. “I was tracking a monster of sorts.” He shook his head. “He’s eluded me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Did you—” Letti blurted, “did you have a fire on the Great Stone Way last night?”
Nodding, Thorn blinked. Did you stay in one of the ist moris?”
Perplexed, neither girl responded. When Thorn described the smooth hood of the mountain, they nodded.
“They were elf caves, small places to hide out and watch the Great Stone Way.” Thorn’s expression dropped back to its stoic mask. “They are abandoned now. No elves live here anymore.”
Hungry for more information, Candor opened her mouth to ask about the Fae, but leapt on instinct instead as an Baitra bounded out of the woods on the far side of Thorn, blade raised with both hands, lips peeled up over its canines. Instead of blocking the sword aimed at Thorn’s neck, Candor used Thorn’s back as a step, and propelled her sword through the chest of the creature, jarring her arm. She let go of her sword, as the creature rolled down hill. It crashed against a hill and twitched twice.
Candor rolled to her feet, snatching a dagger from the far side of her belt, eyes wild.
“Marda.” Thorn swore. Or at least Candor thought the man swore; that was certainly the tone of the word he uttered, its meaning and linguistic origins, however, were unfamiliar to her. Thorn eyed Candor, and a flicker of recognition flashed through his eyes. “You would have saved my life.”
Candor nodded grimly and retrieved her sword.
“That was quite a feat of grace.” Thorn’s eyes continued to follow Candor’s shock of white hair as she descended to the tree where the creature lay.
Candor ignored Thorn. As she yanked it free of the creature’s heart, dents on its edge caught on sinew, and splattered Candor’s lower legs with gore. As she looked down, she yelped.
Her feet were a bloody mess. As soon as she recognized the slices, scrapes, and bruises, she began to feel them clash and burn and sting all the way up her body.
“Stones below!” Candor whimpered. Hobbling back to their packs, which had miraculously remained untouched through the battle, she began to search for the hameus and lavender she had saved.
“If you’ll let me.” Thorn pulled Letti up and sat her down by the packs. Letti’s hands shook as she searched for the water skin.
“What are you going to do?” Candor asked the man suspiciously.
Thorn had saved their lives, as much as she had saved his, but he was still wandering around in a clearly dangerous part of the world.
His dark eyes glittered. “I’m going to heal you, if you’ll let me.”
“How?”
“Majik.” Thorn held her gaze, and this time Candor had to look away. “No.”
Thorn gazed at her for a moment but did not press the issue. “Then boots on. We have to move.” Thorn stood and walked a perimeter of the battle scene.
In the fighting, Candor’s makeshift mask had fallen around her neck. Thorn pointed to it as she pulled on her boots.
“How did you know to wear that?” He asked.
“Wear what?” Candor looked down. “Oh. Something smelled bad last night.”
“What did it smell like?”
“Well,” Candor said, remembering, “Like a flower garden, and rotten meat. Like a funeral.” Candor wrinkled her nose, before yelping as she pulled on her socks and boots.
Thorn ignored her pain. “And what did you smell?” Thorn turned to Letti, who was tightening the straps of her pack.
“The most beautiful flowers.” Letti’s face grew unfocused as she recalled the scent. Just as quickly, her visage tightened. “Then I saw the eyes, and I woke Candor.”
“Hmmf.” Thorn grasped his torch and gestured for the girls to follow him.
“That’s it?” Candor panted, trying to stand. “Why did you want to know?”
Thorn shook his head as he focused on the ground in front of him, avoiding mangled limbs and brambles alike. “Let’s just get away from here.”
Candor and Letti, unable to argue, followed, Candor hobbling pitifully. She gritted her teeth as every step reminded her how many slices the thorns had gifted her.
By the time the forest began to lighten, Candor could see the top of the second ridge within view. Thorn had led the trio at an angle up the mountain, and despite lengthening the distance, both girls found it remarkably easier on their legs. Looking up to her left, Candor could see the tall walls of the raised path and felt a pang of hope. They were close. She gritted her teeth, hoping they would stop at the top.
Near enough to the ridge that Letti could see the huge stone bricks that comprised the wall, Thorn extinguished his torch with a small, muttered word, and turned towards the top of the ridge. Finding footholds and occasionally using tree branches, Thorn pulled himself towards the top of the mountain. Candor and Letti followed, utterly spent.
Candor’s adrenaline had long since worn off, and she was beginning to notice, on top of her excruciating feet, she had garnered several deep bruises along her abdomen.
“Hey,” Letti’s voice startled Candor from her self-pity, “What’s that?”
Letti pointed to a packed trail a few lengths to their right. “Are there trails through here?”
“Yes.” Thorn replied curtly. “The Great Stone Way was once the main artery of the Empire. Of course it has offshoots. Spokes to long forgotten villages.”
Candor and Letti exchanged a glance.
“Why—”
“Why didn’t we find and follow one of the spokes?” Thorn growled. “Because these trails are the harbingers of traps. Ease begets laziness, and laziness begets stupidity. No one has been up here in a hundred years because these trails still boast mines and all sorts of nastiness people do to each other during war.”
“You’re here.” Candor pointed out.
“I’m not stupid.”
That remains to be seen, Candor thought privately.
Exiting the mass of trees, the trio gazed up at the side of the massive structure.
“How tall is it?” Candor asked.
“It’s near to ten lengths.” Thorn replied. Stalking around the edge of a tree, he pulled a sack from beneath a pile of bark and leaves, dusting some errant critters off the top. He slung it over his shoulder. “Come on.”
Quietly, Candor and Letti followed Thorn down a few lengths, until they saw a small doorway cut into the stone structure. Inside, they followed a deceptively wide spiral staircase that deposited them on the flat surface of the Great Stone Way.
“By the Twins,” Letti breathed. Wind whipped her hair back from her face. If she and Candor had found the previous perch impressive, the view from the top of the Great Stone Way dwarfed it. The green mountains sloped away from either side, and ridges framed their view. They could no longer see the ocean. Now on the road, Cando and Letti could see where the raised path dipped and followed the land through the mountains out of sight.
“How come this wasn’t booby trapped?” Candor asked. She remembered she had read something on this in Lola’s books, but it eluded her.
“This is a work of Fae and human engineering.” Thorn replied. “There’s deep majik worked into every stone of this structure that you may do no harm to any traveler upon it, and nothing from the outside might do a traveler harm.”
“That’s beneficial.” Candor said.
Thorn snorted. “You have no idea. It maintained the entire economy. Between the Great Stone Way and Emak, there was no place unreachable in the empire for a long while.”
“Emak?” Letti asked.
“The canal.” Thorn raised an eyebrow. “How much do you know about Icaria?”
Stepping on Letti’s toes and wincing, Candor answered. “Not much.”
“You have curious blind spots.” Thorn gave her an appraising look. “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m not going to sell you. I have no agenda but my own, and I am happy enough to move with you. I don’t, however, like surprises from within my own camp.”
He met Candor’s eyes. She scowled. He seemed trustworthy enough, beyond the fact that he was travelling alone in a dangerous part of the land.
“We lost our families.” Letti finally spoke. Candor’s breath whistled between her teeth.
“We went out for the day, and when we returned, the entire place was destroyed. Her moms weren’t there. We think they were kidnapped.” Letti’s voice quavered at the end.
Candor ground her teeth but elaborated. “We gathered some things and left. We’re trying to get to the Citadel.”
Thorn stilled. Finally, after a long thought he asked, “Candor, are you adopted?”
Startled, Candor nodded. “My moms raised me. I do not know how they found me.”
“Mmm.” Thorn nodded, as if to himself.
“And you?” Candor eyed the main suspiciously. “You know too much.”
“I suspect much,” Thorn corrected grumpily. “I know little.”
“You knew I was adopted!” Candor accused their rescuer.
“Peace.” Thorn held up his hands, and Candor noticed two long scars in the insides of his forearms that ran from his wrists to his elbows.
“Let’s get to the next tower and rest before we discuss anything.” Thorn gestured to a turret a span and a half away.
Still suspicious, but conscious of their exhaustion, Candor acquiesced, and they made their way over the smooth stone. The structure was older than anything either girl had ever seen. They marveled at its largesse. The stones beneath their feet felt worn, as if a river had tumbled them repeatedly. The walls that bound the path stood about a length high and capped with a small shelf that hung just slightly over the edge. Candor noted that the trees stopped about half a length from the wall.
“How come the forest doesn’t repossess this?” Candor asked Thorn, who had not uttered another word.
“Like I said.” Thorn grunted. “There’s deep majik in this Way. The closest I can come to explaining it is that it is now part of the land in the way a river or a ridge is. It belongs here, so the trees and the ferns and the flowers cannot take its place.”
“That makes little sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense to be true. Now be quiet. I haven’t talked this much in years. It’s making my throat hurt.”
Taken aback, Candor glanced at Letti, who did not seem to know if she should laugh or not. She elected not to chuckle, but Letti’s face at swallowing her giggle made Candor guffaw. Soon both girls were bent over on their knees, laughing, tears streaming down their face. The image of Thorn, large, packed, with a dark green tunic staring at them with absolute bewilderment on his face only made them laugh harder. Finally, they hiccoughed into silence.
“Are you done?” Thorn asked stiffly.
“Yes.” Candor pulled Letti to her feet and they took the last few steps to the next outpost on this far side of the world.
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