Splinter & Ash, page 19
But while she sat and breathed out shakily, the tears fell, like dark blotches on the willow wood.
The shadows lengthened. Vance wore a nondescript brown cloak when he exited the barracks. He had a satchel slung over his shoulder, and he held one hand on his sword. Like Splinter and Lucen, he carried a bow and arrows. He was dressed for travel.
Splinter shaved away the sharper edges of the doll’s torso—it was missing its legs—but she followed Vance’s movements carefully. He stopped by the other barracks first, and spoke to the soldier at the door. At a bowyer’s workshop, he demanded to see a young apprentice. He exchanged a tightly bound scroll for a bundle of broadhead arrows with sharpened blades.
When the apprentice asked him a question, Vance slammed a coin down onto the counter and stalked out.
Splinter pocketed the doll and whittling knife and got to her feet.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Anders walk away from the barracks too, and decisively turn toward the north side of the encampment. After a moment, Lucen appeared and followed him, dashing from building to building.
He spotted Splinter and nodded.
Vance strode past Splinter without noticing her. He walked toward the gates with purpose. Another knight, in blues and greens, raised his hand and awkwardly lowered it again when Vance didn’t look up.
Splinter followed him at a distance and tried to keep out of sight, letting a tall soldier with a washing basket on his hip pass her by, falling behind a squabbling group of senior squires.
Halfway through the camp, two heavy carts crossed the road. Vance spun around, and she leapt to the side at the last possible moment, ducking behind—and partway into—a leafless, frozen berry bush.
Thorns and branches scratched at her face and arms. She didn’t move until the carts had passed and people continued on their way.
When Vance entered the stables, Splinter slipped in too, keeping her head down. Travelers’ horses were kept in separate stalls, away from the knights’ and officers’ warhorses, so she made her way to the dun mare Lord Idian had given her. Biscuit eyed her warily, swishing her tale, not thrilled about the idea of leaving the comfort of her fresh straw and oats.
Splinter patted Biscuit’s neck and apologized as a young woman with warm brown skin and hay stalks in her dark braids walked toward her. “Come to collect her already?”
“Only for a little while,” Splinter said. “We need to run an errand.”
The stable hand tilted her head. “You’ve been pushing her hard, squire.”
“I know,” Splinter admitted. For once the weight of the title filled her with dread instead of elation. “I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t necessary.”
“A good horse means a knight’s life,” the stable hand grumbled. “See that you remember that.”
Heat rose to Splinter’s cheeks. “I will.”
The stable hand led Biscuit out and crooned softly while Splinter saddled the horse. The mare had been brushed to a shine and watered, and some of her agitation calmed as Splinter prepared her for the ride.
Hoofbeats clattered through the stables when Vance rode out, and Splinter ducked behind Biscuit’s belly, tightening the girth. When she mounted, the stable hand held on to Biscuit’s bridle. She looked in the direction where Vance had left, before turning back to Splinter. “See that you bring her back in one piece. And yourself too.”
Splinter led Biscuit out of the stables and through the gates, and once she had left the encampment behind, the kingdom stretched out in front of her. The sun crept closer to the horizon, and the sky was aflame with deep red light, while the clouds colored purple. Mist rolled down from the mountains.
Vance rode hard, a lone figure on a long road.
Splinter nudged Biscuit into a trot, keeping a careful distance but determined not to lose him. She hoped she’d pass as a fellow traveler to him.
They rode deep into the Heartian Woods. Dusk brought a chill to the air, and Splinter shivered when they passed between the trees, whose shadows grew darker, like thin fingers skittering across the road.
Twice, Vance changed pace. When he pushed his horse into a canter, Splinter had no choice but to do the same or risk losing him. When he slowed down, she had to get closer or look even more suspicious.
A sense of danger crawled up her spine and her ears itched, but Vance didn’t turn. He kept going.
Suddenly he spurred on his mount and swerved right, onto a narrow, overgrown path. Splinter followed until she got to the crossing, where she hesitated. The trees on either side leaned across the trail like they were determined to see what happened below them.
Biscuit danced sideways, and Splinter unsheathed her sword. Her hands trembled.
This path looked secret and dangerous. A wild trail, or a smugglers’ route.
She pressed forward. As soon as she left the main road, the woods’ birdsong and rustling of leaves faded, and silence took over. Biscuit slipped several times on the rough trail before she stopped. No matter what Splinter did, she refused to keep going.
When she shook her head wildly and snorted, the sound echoed through the trees.
Splinter slid down from the saddle and tied Biscuit’s reins to a tree. The branches underneath her feet crunched. She knew it was foolish—but what if Ash was close?
Her heart pounded. She squeezed the hilt of her sword.
Then the path opened up into a clearing, bathed in twilight’s pale purples.
The first thing Splinter saw was another horse, tied to a tree.
Then, the glint of an arrow.
Vance stepped out from behind a tree, his bow trained on her. “I would demand to know why you’re here, but I recognize you. Anders’s degenerate sibling. It was too much to hope that you’d just disappeared.”
“Vance Labanne,” Splinter shot back. “I knew you were ill-mannered. I didn’t think you’d be dishonorable too.” She clung to the tree line, bringing up her sword as a meager defense.
“Traitor!” she taunted.
To her surprise, the words hit their target. Vance’s face twisted. “I swore to serve Calinor. Calinor is better off without a broken princess. You’ll never see her again, and you will not stop me.” Cruelty lit up his eyes. “But you will tell me who you’re with and what you know.”
Splinter straightened. Vance knew where Ash was. “I won’t tell you—”
The arrow zoomed past her, a hair’s breadth from her face, before it drilled itself into the tree behind her. The broadhead dug deep.
Vance pointed the second arrow straight at her. His voice grew impossibly soft. “Now.”
She squeezed her sword tightly. She ducked to the side, away from the arrow’s intended path. She let out a bloodcurdling scream—
And she charged at Vance.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Ash
“Did you mean it?”
Merewen crouched behind Ash. Dusk crept up on the camp, slivers of twilight crawling out of the forest.
Ash immediately stopped sawing at the rope tied around her ankle and hid the knife in her sleeve. She didn’t have much time left, but she couldn’t risk Merewen seeing what she was doing. “Did I mean what?”
“What you said to Aylin. Did you mean it?” Merewen’s voice held a sense of urgency. She leaned in, like Ash’s answer was important to her.
Ash frowned. “Yes. Obviously.”
Merewen appeared in her line of sight. She was pale. “Did you mean it when you said you’d introduce me to the palace mapmakers?”
“I guess that depends on whether you believe I’m the princess,” Ash said uncharitably.
Merewen crouched near Ash’s feet. “I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t understand why the kingdom is so important to you. It’s just an idea, and we’re real people. But you stood up for me. No one ever has.” She took out a small knife and started cutting through the rope.
Relief crashed over Ash. “You’ll help me?”
“I don’t want you to never see your family again,” Merewen said. “I want you to be my cousin, but I don’t want you to feel lost and small. I know how much that hurts.” She bit her lip and kept her head down. Tension rolled down her shoulders.
“Wait.” Ash held out the knife she had stolen. “It’ll be easier if we work together.”
Merewen stared wide-eyed at the blade, and then she laughed softly—if a little sadly. “Aylin?”
“He has a temper.”
“He does sometimes.”
“I meant what I said,” Ash insisted, with a little more force this time. “I’m sorry I used you. Your maps were really good.”
Merewen sniffed. She glanced toward her cousin and uncle before she resumed sawing at the rope. Ash joined in silently.
With their combined efforts, the rope around her ankle started to fray. The loops loosened. Ash wiggled her foot. The rope caught on her braces and the remaining knots tightened under the movement, but it was progress. Another handful of heartbeats later, the rope snapped, and Ash pulled her leg free. She rubbed at the raw, painful lines around her ankle.
At the campfire, Aylin complained loudly and Crispin stirred. “Merewen, Aylin needs your help with the meal.”
“Coming! I’m just gathering . . .” Merewen’s eyes grew wide, and she took in her surroundings. “Heartwort leaves for Aunt Enda. She likes them for her teas.”
Crispin didn’t notice her hesitation. He grunted. “Hurry, girl.”
“Yes, uncle.” Merewen helped Ash to her feet. Her voice dropped. “We won’t have much of a head start.”
“Do you know your way around these woods?” Ash wanted to know.
“A little,” Merewen said. “Enough to get you back to the main road and to the soldiers at the border encampment.”
“That’s all I need.” Ash took one last look at the campfire, where Crispin and Aylin were arguing. After Vance, she didn’t know how to trust anyone at the border encampment, but at least Splinter’s brother would be there.
She held out her hands to Merewen. “Are you sure?” she asked.
Merewen nodded. She snatched Ash’s cane from where it was leaning against the wagon, took her hand, and pulled Ash between the trees, away from the path, where the greens and browns turned a colder shade of blue. The last streaks of sunlight flamed across the darkening sky, and the glow from the fire slipped away.
Ash accepted her cane gratefully, and she squeezed Merewen’s hand. “Run.”
They ran.
The dim light of the campfire illuminated only the first brush through the undergrowth, before the shadows of trees began to tumble all over each other. Ash used her cane to find a steady path. Merewen pushed ahead without a care for branches and roots, angling away from the camp and the trails.
They tried to be careful, but it was too dark to be quiet.
“Merewen?” Crispin’s voice echoed, following them.
Merewen hissed. “Come on.” She kept running.
When Crispin called out again, it sounded fainter. “Merewen? Stars, girl, where are you? Where—” In the distance, Ash could hear Crispin’s string of curses. It reminded her of Byrne’s blacksmith on the last day of the harvest festival, when he’d struck his thumb with his hammer. Nerves and fear bubbled up inside her, and she hiccuped a laugh.
Merewen frowned. “We have to keep going.”
“I know.” Ash pushed forward. The giggles dried up. “I’m . . . really scared.”
The branches of a tree pulled at her hair and grabbed at her shoulders. The ground was uneven. Cold, hard roots made way for large patches of moss that were so soft it felt like running across mattresses. It hurt.
The last thing they heard was Crispin’s roar. Then silence swallowed them, like the whole forest held its breath to see if Ash would make it out this time.
Ash was determined she would.
They followed a stretch of forest where the ground was rolling and uneven and thick bramble bushes had grown all around the trees, their thorny vines covering the forest floor.
Next came a patch of forest where the trees were spread wider apart, and the last light from the evening sky illuminated the way—and the girls.
When the trees grew closer once more, Ash stumbled, hands on her knees and gasping. “What . . . did he . . . do . . . ,” she managed, “the first time . . . I escaped?”
She grasped at one of the tree trunks to steady herself. Twigs snapped under her grasp.
Merewen was equally out of breath. “He sent Aylin out to look for you. He didn’t want to leave me alone. They’ll take both horses now, to cover as much ground as they can.”
Ash stretched her legs and winced at the pain that ran up her ankles and knees. Everything burned. “We’ll have to be careful.”
Merewen pointed at the tall, ancient trees ahead. “The main road isn’t far. We can stay adjacent to it, but I don’t want to get lost.”
Ash nodded. She bit through the pain.
They continued. Ash winced at every snapping twig and every crunching step. They were so loud, and the woods around them had eyes everywhere.
A fox barked and Ash nearly jumped out of her skin. Merewen placed a hand on her arm. “The road should be right there,” she whispered. She walked forward with a purpose, pushing bushes to the side—and then she stopped.
She took a step forward and brushed branches to the side, before she looked back at Ash.
Worry settled in Ash’s stomach. She walked past Merewen and stared out between the branches. There were only more trees as far as she could see. The light that pushed through the treetops was pale, and it did nothing to show them the right direction. The stars weren’t out yet.
“We could keep going,” Merewen said without conviction. “Uncle Crispin told me about all the smugglers’ paths . . .” Her voice trailed off as she tried to make sense of where they were. It was easy to get lost in the endless miles of forest.
It was dangerous. It was deadly.
But Ash would much rather be here than back in the camp, waiting for Vance to take her away. She wouldn’t give up.
She strode forward, using her cane to steady herself. “We’ll continue,” she decided. “If we can’t find the road, we wait until the stars are out and we use them for guidance.” Like Sir Riven, she added silently.
She picked a tree in the distance and started walking toward it in a straight line, like an arrow slowly flying toward its target.
Then a scream echoed through the woods, and Ash’s heart missed a beat. She knew that voice.
It couldn’t be—
It had to be—
Without explaining what she was doing, she started running in the direction the scream had come from. Merewen called out, but Ash barely heard her. She stumbled forward, caught her footing, and shouted, “Come on! We have to go!”
Other sounds flooded toward them. The sharp clanging of metal on metal. The creaking of leather armor. The soft, restless whinnying of a horse.
And a tall knight grunting, “You are brave, I’ll grant you that. What a waste of courage.”
Ash recognized Vance’s voice and derision.
She caught flashes of him through the branches and leaves. He’d discarded his colorful overcoat for a more sensible cloak. One that would mask him better on his intended trip across the mountains.
She couldn’t make out his opponent, but Vance lifted his sword above his head and brought it down hard, knocking his opponent’s sword to the side.
And everything happened at once.
Merewen grabbed at Ash’s arm, but Ash pulled herself free, crashing through the thicket.
Her cane flew out of her hands and she landed on her hands and knees, as Splinter, lying on the ground, kicked at Vance.
Ash drew breath to call out—
Vance brought his sword down a second time. This time, the blade didn’t tangle with Splinter’s sword. Instead, the sword cut into her, like the leather armor offered no resistance at all, and he cut down deep.
Ash screamed.
Vance withdrew the blade. Blood poured from the cut to Splinter’s shoulder. She curled up in pain. Vance whirled around and sneered when he saw Ash. “You.” He spat on the ground. “You troublesome little girl.” He adjusted his grip on his blade and advanced on her.
Ash crawled backward.
Merewen wrapped her arms around Ash’s torso and heaved her upright. “Ash, come on. We have to run!”
But Vance burst through the bushes and grabbed Merewen by the arm. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing.
He tossed her to the side.
Merewen crashed into a tree and slumped down to the moss.
Ash backed away. She took the knife she’d stolen from Aylin and held it out in front of her, but she wished she had a bow and arrow. Or better yet, Splinter by her side and a squadron of knights at her back.
Vance laughed derisively. He opened his arms wide, as if to invite her to attack. “You think you can win against me? Come on, try your best.”
Ash gripped the knife tighter but kept backing away, careful where she placed her feet.
“You’re as much a coward as your mother is,” Vance taunted.
“No.” A voice rang from the clearing. “She doesn’t have to fight you. I will.”
Ash’s heart soared.
Splinter stood between the trees, sword in hand. She was pale and bloody, but her eyes were blazing.
She stared past Vance to Ash, grinning wildly. “I know you dropped your cane again, but you’re going to have to find it yourself. I’m a little busy.”
Splinter attacked.
She fought like no one could stop her. She drew Vance back into the clearing, taunting him and attacking him, and as soon as they were out of sight, Ash ran to Merewen.
She crouched down next to the girl. When Ash pushed her hair out of her face, Merewen moaned, but her eyes fluttered open.
Ash bit her lip. “Are you okay?”
“Hurts,” Merewen groaned. With Ash’s aid, she struggled to a sitting position, and she managed the faintest of smiles. “Go. Help your friend.”
Ash squeezed her hand. “Wait here for me. I’ll be back.”
