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Nuris had a strange feeling. He often had a good sense of what might be going on or even what might happen in certain situations, but this was something different. It was as though something, or someone, was trying to pull his heart from his chest. He shook the feeling away as he strode out of the tent. The girl was still sleeping, or at least she appeared to be. And although he was tempted to tie her hands together, he left her as she was. He turned slowly to the soldier who stood by the opening, taking the time to study the forest that bordered the camp. The man nodded to acknowledge him—few rarely saluted him—and with only a quick glance behind him at the tent, he returned to his stance.
The sun was already rising as Nuris made his way across the camp, although he’d expected more movement, noise, and soldiers. The cardinal sat on the step of what had been his tent, his head in his hands.
“What have you lost?” Nuris asked.
“All of it,” the man grumbled.
“Perhaps now is the time to return to the king.”
The cardinal glared at him. “It is the God’s will,” he growled through clenched teeth.
“I’m surprised the God wants you to kill women who worship him and the children they save, but then maybe he has a darker sense of humour than I thought,” Nuris said, looking past the older man, who appeared much older than he usually did, to the remains of the tent. He made his way past the cardinal to stand in the middle of what had been. The floor had even burnt away; he was standing in ash on the ground.
There were remnants of what had been, touches of skins that had once been maps, part of the framework the tent had rested over, although what was left was charred. Nuris stepped closer and put his fingers to a burnt post. In some way, it appeared stronger now that it was black and solid, but it was as though the fire had eaten away at the inside of it. The part above where his fingers touched crumbled and tumbled down.
“What are you doing with the witch?” the old man asked.
“Something like you were, I should imagine. Using her.”
“You have a soft spot for them,” the old man said, a cruel grin lighting his eyes.
“The king understands my loyalty, and I haven’t met a witch I haven’t killed. But there is one who still eludes us both,” Nuris said, and the light dimmed somewhat in the cardinal’s eyes. “She’s out there somewhere, and this girl will help me find her.”
“And then what will you do?”
“Kill her,” he said without hesitation. It was what he had been trying to do for the last twenty years. He looked up into the forest then. He could sense her out there somewhere, as he had in the flames. The same feeling of something wrapping around his heart and trying to pull it from his chest overwhelmed him suddenly. He put his hand to his chest as though it might stop it being pulled out through his ribs. They had always had a strong connection, and yet this felt like something else.
Two young men emerged from the forest, walking towards the camp. They chatted amongst themselves, appearing unconcerned by what lay ahead of them, as soldiers moved forward from a camp that had appeared asleep. Nuris stared at them as they continued forward, half expecting Nelda to appear behind them.
They seemed to be strong, well-built young men who perhaps spent their days working hard. Farmers, he would guess by their clothing—although they were dusty, as though they might have travelled far from home. They looked alike and yet quite different. For half a heartbeat, Nuris thought he was looking at someone else. He shook the idea away. One had darker hair, a little shaggy; the other, slightly taller, had sand-coloured hair.
Nuris raised his hand, and they both looked at him rather than at the soldiers in their shiny metal armour at the edge of the camp.
“General?” the cardinal asked.
He stepped down from the remains of the tent and moved forward.
“We thought we saw the glow of fire in the night,” one said, pointing past the approaching general to the remains of the tent.
“What do you want?” Nuris asked.
“They are the king’s soldiers,” the shorter one said, a touch of awe in his voice as he elbowed the other.
“Then we are in the right place,” the taller one said. Nuris wondered if he was the older of the two. He certainly appeared to be in charge.
“What do you want?” Nuris asked again as he tried not to look towards the tent with the young girl, wondering if they were drawn to her. But then, she had been found in a convent, and she likely didn’t know any young men who might want to save her. Nuris shook his head at the idea. She was a witch, not some maiden in distress, despite what he’d thought when he’d seen her chained to the post the previous evening.
“We are alone in the world,” the older one said. “We are looking for meaningful work, and becoming soldiers for the king would be such work.”
Nuris drew his sword, readying to toss it to the boy to see what he could do with it, when the boy drew his own from his belt. Nuris was surprised at the state of it, an older weapon to be sure, marked but well cared for, and a decent size.
The young man, despite the size of the sword, rotated his wrist and swung the weapon before him as he moved easily into a pose that showed he could take whatever Nuris might attack him with. Several of the soldiers raised their own swords, and the younger of the two put his hand on the other’s arm.
“He wants to see what we can do, Heath,” the older one said, not taking his gaze from Nuris.
“General?” someone asked from the watching crowd.
“I am curious,” he admitted, stepping forward.
“Step back,” the young man murmured, and the one with him released his hold to do as asked. The young man looked at Nuris, who gave him a smile. He bowed his head and retreated further.
Nuris’s experience ensured he had his sword up before he was what he thought was within reach of the young man. When the boy’s sword swung down against his blade, jarring him, he pushed him off and returned with his own attack just as quickly.
He wasn’t holding back, and neither was the boy before him. He had skill and moved quickly, seemed to read Nuris’s moves before he even thought them, yet his sword was ready to block him. Nuris, who usually read others just as well, couldn’t seem to quite get a hold of the young man. Several times, he thought he had him just before he spun out of the way. For a boy his size, he was unbelievable on his feet. He was someone Nuris would rather have on his side than face in a serious fight. Not that he was holding back.
Without warning, the boy sheathed his sword and bowed to Nuris. “Thank you, General, for your test.”
Nuris nodded slowly in return, trying to catch his breath. The young man looked as though he had worked. Sweat beaded around his forehead, yet he didn’t appear out of breath.
“What is your history?” Nuris asked as a snicker moved through the watching soldiers.
“We grew up farming,” the other said, stepping forward. Nuris was curious to see if he was just as good with his sword—not as large as the one he’d just faced, but the boy likely had similar strength to wield it.
“What do you want us to do to them, General?” one of the soldiers asked.
“They might be of use,” Nuris said. Despite the skill he had witnessed, he wasn’t keen to put them into any armour just yet. They would have to earn their place. The older one was looking at him, studying him openly. “Where are your parents?”
“Dead,” the younger one said too quickly. A lie, he sensed. He looked across at the tent then, wondering what the connection was. When he looked back, the sandy-haired boy hadn’t looked away from him. There was something intense in the way he studied him, something familiar.
Someone had taken the time to train him, or both of them, with the swords they carried. A lot of time. Nuris’s instincts told him that was connected to the lie he sensed. Another reason not to send them out with swords amongst the king’s soldiers.
“We can cut wood, cook, or any other tasks you need.”
Nuris chewed at his lip. “What do you really want?” he asked.
“To learn how to be a soldier,” the taller one said. Nuris wanted to say that he was already a soldier, but for whom he couldn’t fathom. It made him nervous. And he studied Nuris too closely, as though he understood Nuris’s concerns. “It’s no good—they won’t take us on.” He indicated back towards the trees. They turned away from the camp, walking slowly away.
“We can find something,” a soldier offered. Nuris understood the attraction of such a man. There were murmurings of agreement from the soldiers who had now all sheathed their swords.
Nuris turned and found the cardinal watching him. He too might have concerns.
“What are your names?” Nuris asked.
The younger one looked to the other, who still watched Nuris.
“This is Heath,” the taller one said, tapping the other on the shoulder. “I’m Frayne.”
“Family name?” Nuris asked, although he framed it as a direction.
“Ash,” Frayne said.
“Ash? As in the remnants of a fire?” Nuris asked.
“As in the tree,” Frayne said, looking to the other who nodded. “We are brothers,” he added. Although there was a similarity between them, Nuris didn’t think them that alike.
“Welcome, Frayne and Heath Ash. It appears the King would like to make use of you.”
For the first time, the boy smiled, and a shiver raced down Nuris’s spine. There was something about these boys that made him unsure whether he should send them far away or keep them very close.
“You could rebuild my tent,” the cardinal said, standing up from the step.
“It is time to return to the king.”
“How can we return when danger still roams free?”
“I was not suggesting I return with you,” Nuris said, and the old man glowered.
“Truly?” The cardinal brushed at the ash and soot on his usually pristine red robes. The white collar was grey and smudged, as though the old man had spent the night pulling at it. “You speak for him now?”
“I don’t need to,” Nuris said, walking back towards the tent and the witch. “You have received your message direct.” He wondered where that soldier was now. “Find something for these boys to do,” he said as he walked past the group of soldiers still watching them. “I am sure they will do whatever they are directed.”
“Sir,” was mumbled through the group, and he continued as though they had responded as he would have expected. He wasn’t usually in charge of such a group. He might be the general, but he was usually out in the world on his own, doing as his king needed him to do.
For now, he needed to find his sister. The soldier stood to attention as he approached the tent.
“She hasn’t moved, sir.”
He nodded and put his hand on the flap to push his way in when something pulled at him. He turned back to see the two boys being directed by the soldiers, pointing about. Although one glanced his way, it was as though he was simply looking about, taking in the camp more than watching what Nuris was doing. He was too aware he would have to be careful. Although it seemed somewhat of a stretch for two handsome young men, farmers, to be working with a witch, he was sure that there was more to them than they were admitting.
He pushed his way in and sat on the cot opposite the young woman, who was still beneath her blanket. He knew Nelda was here, still so close, although he had never had that feeling before. He studied the sleeping woman across from him, her soft breaths, her blonde hair fanned about her. She shivered and opened her eyes, staring up at the tent ceiling before slowly looking across at him.
“I had hoped it a dream,” she murmured. “Albeit a bad one.”
Why had Nelda been in the camp? Why would she give herself away by burning the cardinal’s tent to the ground? Or was it some form of revenge? Could she have been hiding in a convent all this time and been driven to revenge by the deaths the man had caused in the name of the God? One she might understand if she had spent so much time there.
“Why the convent?” he murmured. The girl rubbed at her eyes and sat up slowly, allowing the blanket to drop away. Then she pulled it around herself as she tucked her legs beneath her.
“What do you want to know?” she asked with a sigh.
He shook his head. She could explain how had come to be where she was, but she couldn’t give him the answers to the questions he had about Nelda. Although he had hoped she could help draw Nelda out. “What do the sisters do in the convents?” he asked.
She looked at him as though that was not the question she had expected. “They pray to the Goddess. They look after each other and those in need,” she said with a small sniff, as though she might cry at the idea. “Orphans, those unable to look after themselves. Women who have lost their families or were... unwanted for some reason.”
“Unwanted?” he asked.
She looked uncomfortable as she chewed on her lip. “Damaged and not wanted as wives,” she whispered.
He nodded to show his understanding.
His sister had been a sweet girl who would do anything asked. She had never complained that what she did was beneath her, or that she was just a maid in the castle. She had smiled and laughed and enjoyed life, until that night. She might have been happy helping others, looking after children. She had been selected to assist the queen, after all, as her child grew in her belly. Only it was assumed she had burnt the child to nothing within moments of his birth.
He remembered the desperation to find her, the overwhelming fear that she had been lost to the fire that had consumed Sunsong Castle. The instant relief at her walking from the flames had evaporated in the intense heat as he understood what she was.
Only now he understood that it had not been her flames that had consumed the castle. She wasn’t the one responsible for the death of the new prince or the fire that had led to the king’s demise. He needed to know the truth. She would have to die, he understood that, but he had to know who and what had caused the fire—and if she was a witch, why she hadn’t stopped it.
That night had been such mayhem. The sounds and smell of the fire still haunted his dreams. Only now he understood that anyone could have started the blaze—anyone might be responsible for the deaths of the king and the prince. That person could have disappeared just as easily in the flames as his sister had, despite his nearly killing her. Someone they might have thought amongst the dead.
Nelda walked quickly away from the camp, as though a desperation pushed her on. As though she couldn’t remain so close to her brother. She wanted to run, but she didn’t trust her legs. She was tired and hungry. Despite years of fasting and hours of prayer, it seemed harder outside the convent walls. She wanted to see him. She had seen him, but she wanted the chance to talk to him, explain to him what she’d been unable to that night. Touch him. She hadn’t realised just how desperately she missed him until that moment, when she’d watched the boys disappear through the trees towards the camp.
That crazy notion that they could save the girl. They would likely not survive, and she would have to be the one to explain that to their father. They had been at risk enough just by being with her, following her through the trees. Heath, she understood—Frayne, she was struggling to get a handle on.
He appeared to be distant and disapproving of everything, yet there was something more to him. She understood he sensed far more of his surroundings than she would have thought him sensible to. His willingness to risk his own safety to indulge his brother’s wish and save a girl he didn’t know had surprised her. She also believed that he could.
The soldiers would start out again, move along the road to the next convent. She didn’t think the cardinal would care if there were witches hiding at the convent or not. He would take what lives he felt he needed to. She wasn’t even sure how they identified them as witches. They bled like anyone else. She still wasn’t sure how the mother at her own convent had learnt what she was, but she’d been accepted either way. The Goddess loved them all the same.
Nelda was lost, she realised as she looked around at the trees. There was no path, no landmarks, and no indication of the direction she had walked from the camp. She couldn’t leave the boys, and she couldn’t be anywhere near them. She knelt down, the twigs and leaves pulling at her dress and poking into her legs. But she shut out the feeling, released her breath, and focused on the Goddess. She closed her eyes to the unfamiliar landscape around her and the fear of being alone. The flames danced behind her lids and called to her to release them. She breathed slowly, trying to ignore the pull, find the Goddess and the calm she’d found previously. But the flames still flickered.
Fear overwhelmed her that the flames would escape, pushing out from her to engulf the surrounding trees and alert the soldiers to her presence. She was still surprised that they hadn’t come after her—after them—when the tent had flared with her flames. Perhaps they did think the girl responsible.
Despite the heat growing within her, it didn’t escape. The feeling had been both freeing and frightening when she had set light to the cardinal’s tent. It was the first time she had willingly and deliberately allowed it to take hold—allowed the flame to crawl over her skin as she felt the freedom and then directed it.
In many ways she was surprised by the control she had over it. Behind her closed eyes, she could see the fire warm the ends of her fingers, watch it trickle over the maps that had covered the tables in the tent and lick up the wooden structure supporting the canvas. The smell of it, bittersweet and familiar, as though the flames were a part of her, linked to her and her only.
She wondered then at the flames that had swallowed the castle all those years ago, frightening her at every turn, as though she couldn’t read where they might go or what they might take. She had already watched them consume more than they should, and yet it wasn’t the fire she was afraid of but whoever had started it.
Nelda breathed out slowly and tried to drag her mind back to the Goddess, the love and understanding, the practiced prayers she had repeated every day for so long. Prayers that had helped keep the flames at bay. But she couldn’t find the words now, as though she couldn’t remember what she’d barely had to think about previously. The warm glow she felt growing inside her didn’t seem to be lessening. She glanced around, worried she might cause a spark.