Thornton
The Athrani Legion marched over the plains and hills that lay between the Forest of Kienar and their home, the capital city of Ellenos. They had been moving slowly with Endar Half-Eye leading the way, but Thornton noticed that their pace had quickened as they drew closer to their destination. He thought he would probably have done the same if they were marching toward Highglade. Allowing himself some mental respite, he thought about the first time he’d left the village on his own.
His father had been reluctant to let him go into Lusk by himself, but Thornton was persistent in his pleading, and the big blacksmith had finally relented. You go straight there and come straight back, he remembered his father saying. He was standing there, big arms crossed over a barrel chest, looking and sounding as hard as steel. No dawdling.
Of course, that had been the plan all along: to come straight home. It was just nice to get a small taste of freedom, even if it was only for the day. His horse, Jericho, was much younger back then, a spry version of the aging workhorse that was waiting for him back in Annoch. And his father’s beard had been only a fraction of the face-filling monstrosity that Olson was known for.
But at the end of the day, when Thornton and Jericho were pointed back toward Highglade, they had both felt themselves moving faster. It wasn’t anything that Thornton had consciously decided, but he found himself riding slightly harder, Jericho’s legs pounding slightly faster, when they had rounded the trail that led into the small, wooded village they called home.
So Thornton had to admit that he was not surprised when the footfalls of the Athrani soldiers were getting closer and closer together.
Yasha, riding beside him, seemed to notice this as well.
“We must be nearly there,” she said, turning her head. “I know we’re riding in with them, but I can’t help feeling nervous.”
Thornton looked up at her, seated upon Matilda, and did not have to ask why she felt that way. She wore the hood of her gray robes over her head, doing the best she could to conceal a face scarred with power, a consequence of the energy she had unwittingly released in the Otherworld. But unlike some of the Khyth that Thornton had seen whose skin had been similarly charred, Yasha’s skin was a soft, muted gray that nearly matched her robes. Against her swirling green eyes, it almost made her look beautiful. But both of them knew her robes would not be enough to hide who she was—what she was—from the eyes of the Athrani living in Ellenos.
“We’ll stay close to Endar when we get there,” Thornton said. “He can vouch for us. I know he will.” His words were meant to be encouraging to his sister, but he wasn’t so sure if even he believed them. He barely knew the Athrani half-eye, and he knew of his intentions even less. In the back of his mind, he was almost afraid of being thrown into a jail cell upon their arrival. After all, both he and Yasha were Khyth, and the blood feud that existed between the Khyth and the Athrani was older than he could comprehend.
“You come with the protection of Kienar,” Kethras said, surprising Thornton; he’d been silent for most of the journey and he’d almost forgotten he was there. “You will be safe.”
Standing a whole head above Yasha—despite his being on foot and her being on horseback—Kethras’s words carried well.
Yasha still had a worried look on her face. “If you say so,” she replied.
Thornton and Yasha were Khyth, it was true, but neither of them had chosen to be. That was another matter entirely, however, and Thornton hoped the citizens of Ellenos would at least be understanding. Whether they would be, or whether they would choose to lock them up in a dungeon, they would find out soon.
***
The Athrani Legion came to a halt on the edge of a sprawling body of water.
“There she is,” Endar said from the front of the legion. The big man had a hand to his forehead to shield himself from the rays of the setting sun. “She certainly is a sight for sore eyes.”
The murmurs of agreement that rippled through the army were punctuated with excited shouts of celebration.
The legion had come home.