Arine's Sanctuary (9 page)

Chapter Thirteen

            
 
A
rine sat watch out of habit. Cavon and Mestra slept, both worn out from his healing. Martine had taken the news that the boys could work magic well. She was Moreja, though. They were trained to accept things they couldn’t fully understand. It wasn’t about hating differences, but embracing them.

              She shifted her stance against the rock, willing her back to relax. With Logan sealing off the passage the way he did, it was highly unlikely they’d be disturbed. Talia and the Domines would have to march overland to reach Sanctuary, and that would take time. The tunnel provided the five of them with a faster route, giving Sanctuary time to prepare for whatever forces would come against them.

              Someone moved, but she didn’t look towards them. Her focus stayed on what might come at them.

              “Have you eaten?” Logan asked. “I know you haven’t slept.”

              Arine turned, smiling at him as he handed her a piece of bread and some cheese. Her stomach growled. “Thank you. Didn’t know I was hungry until just now. Is that part of your magic?” She kept her voice light, teasing.

              He chuckled. “No, not unless five years at your side counts. I know you, Arine. You’re less likely to take care of yourself if there are others who need it more.”

              They stood, each against the small opening to the cave, eating. Something had been in Arine’s mind for a while now, but she’d never asked. It seemed right to do so now.

              “What’s it like, Logan? Doing magic?”

              He raised his head, but wouldn’t look at her. “I’m not sure how to describe it, really. It’s not like I get all tingly or anything. It’s just, when I know someone I care about is going to be hurt, I have to do something. If I don’t, I’ll explode.”

              He faced her now, shadows from the torchlight highlighted his chiseled features. “I don’t mean ‘care’ like love, Arine. You’re the only one I love. But that’s been the one common thread Cavon and I discovered while we talked with the older men in Sanctuary. The ones who remembered the wars from when they were very small. When magic was commonplace, before it was outlawed. The men who could do magic, it wasn’t a lot of them. And they all cared very deeply about people. All people, not just nobles or their own families. When that began to be misused, abused, that’s when things went wrong. There’s a theory in one of the old books that women never developed magic because they only cared for their families. That they were just as afraid of their neighbors as they were someone like Martine from the Far Lands. Fear prevents us from doing so much. It’s those who care without fear that can work miracles.”

              Arine listened to his words carefully. It made sense. “Do they think women could do magic, then? If they could ignore differences?”

              He nodded. “Yes. The magic doesn’t care if it’s a man or woman wielding it. It was abused before, and won’t be now. Neither Cavon or I can do it without need. Someone we care for must be in danger. From death, from being crushed or burned, something dire. I can’t decide to do dishes without getting my hands wet.” He chuckled.

              “You talk like it’s alive.”

              “It is. For me, at least. I won’t say it’s a voice in my head or anything like that. I’m not crazy. But it’s very much alive. It went dormant after the wars. Too many men used it to destroy instead of protect. We’re supposed to live together, not fear each other. I don’t think it’ll let itself be used like that again.”

              “Have you ever tried? Doing the dishes without getting your hands wet?” She smiled. The two of them often worked as a team around the house, but he would tease her about his poor hands when she’d been gone.

              He laughed again. “Once. It gave me a headache. That’s when we started discussing the idea of it being alive. It’s different for each of us. Cavon can heal wounds. I move things. There was one man we met, very ancient --he used to be able to create fire. One of the kings of old told him to use it to erect a wall of flame. Said it was to save them from death. Only it wasn’t. There was a family inside the barn he surrounded with fire. The father had denied him a heirloom sword, so the king burned them all alive and took the weapon. As soon as the old man saw what he had been used for, he
fled. Never called upon the magic again. And still won’t. Says he’s still paying penance for taking life instead of saving it.”

              “So, it won’t let you kill now?” Silently, she hoped she knew the answer. It would solve so many problems if the Domines couldn’t force Logan or Cavon to kill.

              Logan shrugged, “I’m not sure. I mean, it was possible that some of Talia’s troops had made it into the tunnel before I collapsed it, or that they were hit by rocks as they flew out the entrance. I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone. Just wanted to keep you and the rest safe. I think it looks into my heart, sees my intent. If I wanted to do harm, it wouldn’t have done what I did.” He paused. “We pay a price for what we do, Arine. It’s a physical one. The more we do, the harder it is to recover from. Cavon’s going to be up and moving faster from repairing Mestra’s shoulder than he was when he healed you. He talked about that, in the group. The poison had traveled extensively through your blood by the time he was able to get you to safety. It was embedding itself into the muscles, causing them to become paralyzed. It took more than he’d ever done before, and it weakened him for days. The pot I moved to save Julia left me a little
dizzy. Today—well, you
saw what I was like afterwards.”

              She
remembered his ashen skin, the lines
of sweat leaving traces through the dust on his face. How he leaned heavily on the wall on the way to this cavern, collapsing in a heap when they reached it. Only the rhythmic rise of his chest kept her from fearing the worst.

              Reaching across the small space between them, she took his hand. “The collapse was that extensive, then? None will come from that direction tonight?”

              “
Yes. It will take months
for the rubble to be cleared. Even then, it may rain even more of the mountain on their heads. I…I only wanted to keep you safe. You scared me, Arine. When you went after Talia. She had so many with her. The moment the fight went against her, she would’ve had them shower you with bolts. You weren’t going to win because she wasn’t going to fight fair.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I don’t want to lose you, not like that. Not have you cut down while I watched.”

              She pulled him closer and placed one hand on his chest. “I didn’t mean to make you afraid, Logan. If there’s no way we’ll be caught unawares, there’s another cavern like this not far. Big enough for two.” Arine placed a gentle kiss at the base of
his throat
. “Maybe there’s a way I can make it up to you.”

Chapter Fourteen

            
 
O
ne thing about the tunnel and cave system had always bothered Arine. She couldn’t keep track of time. Without the sun or stars, she couldn’t keep her days and nights straight. Time was on their side right now. Talia would need to go overland, taking weeks to get to Sanctuary. The wagons, laden down with food and supplies for the army, would slow them down even further. But that didn’t mean she felt no urgency. There were hundreds who needed as much warning as they could get. Sick, elderly, or young. The evacuation would take time to execute.

              She had slept well, the warmth of Logan’s body keeping the natural chill at bay. But now, she wanted to move.

              Mestra awoke, her movements slow. Arine understood the feeling. Though she’d been passed out when Cavon worked on her. She couldn’t fathom what it might have been like for her friend, being awake while enduring that.

              “It didn’t hurt, Arine. Not the healing anyway. Pulling out the bolt, well…”

              Arine nodded in understanding. They both bore a few scars from that sort of encounter. The Moreja were trained to endure more pain than a lucky shot. But it still hurt.

              “Are you up to travel today? When the others are awake?”

              Mestra shifted her position on the floor, “Yes. We can’t sit here for long. Not if our warning will have any real effect.”

              “Good. I think we need to push things, go as
far as we can
before we rest.”
She thrust her
chin towards a small pile on the floor. “Martine was able to grab a pack or two on her way down the tunnel, but the rest were buried in the cave-in. We need to do inventory, see what we’ve got on hand. Last thing we need is to run out of water on the first day.”

              Mestra joined her by the pile and they began to rummage through the pockets, separating the various supplies. “Did you know? What Logan was going to do?” Mestra whispered.

              Arine shook her head once, placing a spare tunic off to one side. “No. He didn’t share his plan with us. Just told us to stay back. We talked some last night about it. What about Cavon?”

              “He apologized a lot. Kept saying he was sorry for having to do the healing at all. I think it scares him.”

              “It scares both of them, though I think Logan’s got a better handle on it. He’s thought a lot on where the magic comes from, how it works. I’m not sure I understand it all. But it works for them. I’m grateful for what they did yesterday. I’d rather get home without needing more of it, though.”

              “Agreed.” They sorted in silence for a few moments. “How are things with you and Logan now? I saw your face briefly when you joined us here. There was fear on it.”

              Arine sighed. “I admit, it was strange to see him do that. Mistress Bryn told me, yes. I knew he was capable of it. But to see the capacity of what he can do. It shook me deeper than I thought it would.” She paused. “When we talked though, and then afterwards, it helped. You know me. I want to know how things work. I don’t like the unknown. Ten years of not knowing about Ian drove me insane. It doesn’t change who Logan is, or how I feel about him. He confessed that he almost didn’t do it. He feared showing that side of himself to me would make me afraid of him. I had to show him that wasn’t the case.”

              Mestra chuckled slightly. “And so you took him to another cavern. I can understand that.”

              The shifting of the others in the small space alerted them. A quick breakfast followed in silence.

              Mestra stood up. “We move as fast and for as long as we can. Logan, you and Cavon space yourself between the three of us. If we encounter anyone, they should be from Sanctuary.”

              “If they aren’t?” Cavon asked.

              “If they’re not, get out of the way. Let us deal with it. No heroics. Leave the fighting to those trained for it.” Martine spoke up, her voice firm.

              Logan spoke. “We know our place, Martine. You won’t see more of what happened last night unless there’s no other way.”

              Arine studied Martine’s face, waiting for her to believe Logan’s words. It was one thing to know about magic; it was something else to see it done before your eyes.

              Martine shrugged. “Good enough, I suppose.”

              They handed the two packs off to Logan and Cavon, since they weren’t armed. Fighting without the extra weight would benefit them all.

***

              The late afternoon sunlight filtered into the tunnel, letting them know the exit wasn’t far off. Mestra raised a hand, halting them. “We’re not far off now. Let’s go back to the last side cavern and rest. It’s still a good ways to Sanctuary, but I’d rather do it in daylight over dark if we can.”

              Arine spoke up. “Agreed.” While she and Mestra knew the path well enough to go at night, the rest wouldn’t. Martine had never been to
Sanctuary, either. Resting now and moving
at first light was the best plan possible.

              She noticed Mestra hesitate as the rest moved through the narrow crevice. She paused, waiting.

              “I’m going on tonight. Alone. I want to make sure they know we’re coming, and what follows us. Cavon and Logan can’t keep the pace I need to. And Martine…” Mestra whispered.

              “You don’t trust her,” Arine stated.

              “No, I don’t. If I can speak with Mistress Bryn first, then we’ll know if she truly is expected.”

              “And if your hunch is right?”

              Mestra shrugged. “If I’m right, then you’ll be met at some point with an escort home. She’s come this far with us. Whatever
her goal is, I’d
give even money it’s in Sanctuary. She’s not going to hurt you or the boys before that happens.” She placed a hand on Arine’s shoulder, then moved with grace toward the meager daylight.

              Arine moved through the slit in the rock to rejoin the others. Her mind raced to come up with a plausible reason why Mestra wouldn’t follow.

              Logan noticed first. “Mestra?”

              Arine laughed. “You know how she is, Logan. Never can sit still if she’s got the will to move. She’s scouting ahead, making sure the trail’s clear for the morning. Domine Elsa’s still going to hunt for Cavon, marriage or no. Mestra’s going to lead any lookouts on a merry little chase tonight.”

              She smiled, and dared a sidelong glance at Martine. The other woman’s face was a studied mask, unreadable. Either she believed Arine, or she was calculating her next move.

              Arine settled against the wall, legs stretched out across the opening. Just in case.

              Cavon and Logan slept while she dozed. Martine was on watch, but Arine wasn’t fully asleep. Mestra’s concern echoed her own. There was something off with Martine. Outside of the familiarity between her and Sabine, they had no real evidence she was Moreja. And Talia found them somehow. It couldn’t have been coincidence.

              “Your friend doesn’t trust me,” Martine said, her voice low enough not to awake the boys but loud enough for Arine to understand her.

              She gave up the pretense of sleep and straightened to a sitting position. “No, she doesn’t. Would you, if the positions were reversed? A strange woman from a strange land claiming membership in the Sisterhood? Bearing a message for the head of our Order that’s not written down?” Arine stared down the other woman. “Give me one good reason to believe you didn’t betray us to Talia as a way for us to take you to Sanctuary.”

              Martine raised a single eyebrow. “If that was true, don’t you also suspect me of slaughtering your brother and his family? Or handing them over to the Domines instead of making sure they were safely on the way back to the Far Lands?”

              Arine didn’t bother to hide the movement towards the dagger at her waist. “If any harm has come to Ian…”

              “Not by my order, Arine. I was paid well to bring them here, and back home, safely. On the sea, a captain’s word is law. None would dare disobey me, and I would never be allowed safe harbor at home if I
harmed anyone on
my ship.”

              The dark skinned woman rose. Arine didn’t hesitate, moving along with her. Slowly, the two circled the room.

              “I’ve been left on watch, alone. I could’ve slit the throats of each one of you as you slept. When you and Logan slipped off, I could’ve killed Mestra and Cavon and ran ahead. Do you deny I’ve had opportunity?”

              “No. The concern isn’t for us. We know we’d be able to get back safely. You need us to get in. You don’t know the way.”

              “So, what then? I’m sent to assassinate Mistress Bryn? Make sure the way’s open for Talia and the army?”

              “It’s possible.” The room was small, too small. If they were going to fight, the boys were going to get hurt before they were fully awake.

              Arine watched, her dagger drawn, waiting. The next move was Martine’s. Logan stirred on the ground behind the other woman, but Arine refused to change her focus.

              Martine walked a few steps forward, to the center of the room. Deliberately, holding Arine’s gaze, she knelt on the ground. The curved sword slid out of its sheath with a metallic hiss. “By all that my kind see as holy, I come as emissary to Mistress Bryn. To let her know her fight is ours. And to let her know an entire fleet of warships will be laying siege to Dawnbreak by now. It is time the Moreja came out of hiding,
so that the men of the world will be given rights.” She moved the sword so the point rested against the opening
at the front of her tunic. “Should my words be false, I pray to the Mother of All, take my life now.”

              The vow, some of the same words used by Arine herself when she became Moreja, rang through her soul. She knew the weight of the words. And had seen the hand of the Goddess strike down those who spoke the words without truth behind them.

              “Know that She will hold you to your vow,” Arine softly spoke the end of the ritual. She waited as Martine rose and sheathed her weapon. The tension of the last few moments dissipated as the women faced each other again.

              “Let’s wake up the boys. Past time we got moving.”