25

Landed

LANCE’S BOOTS THUMPED AS HE landed on another parapet.

Beryl whizzed behind him as he made his way down gables and across ledges away from the battlement. Eventually Lance found himself on the thatched roof of a cottage. Eyeing the ground, he leapt, kicking up a cloud of dust as he bounced on his heels.

“See, easy,” he said.

Wynn hopped down from his back, heart still racing. She gave her pelt a shake.

They darted down an alleyway, weaving through the tangle of streets and milling with the early morning locals and their carts.

When they were certain they weren’t being pursued, they rested in a small alley. Lance rested against the wall while Beryl doubled over, panting.

“We should be okay for now,” he said. He looked up at Wynn, who was also catching her breath.

“Not bad huh?” he said.

Wynn ran over and threw her arms around him.

This time in a hug.

“Thank you,” she said.

Lance glanced away sheepishly. “Uh—no problem.”

I NEED TO TELL THEM, Wynn thought. She pulled her cloak closer over her head as she walked through the Runnelloom crowd, the orange rays of the sun dancing on her blue cloak and her pack. Two days was long enough to decide.

And yet doubt nagged at her belly.

She sighed as she returned to the purple-tinge stone of the alleyway. She shuffled past a long wood plank, and over a broken basket that drifted listlessly in a large puddle. Beryl dozed nearby, while Lance treated his arm injury with cloth soaked in a mixture from a bottle.

He glanced up from treating his arm. “How’d it go?”

“Okay,” she said. “I originally wanted to get a rye loaf, but the price was too high.”

The last two days they had taken turns venturing out during dawn and dusk to grab necessary supplies. They reasoned it would be less conspicuous if one of them went, rather than together as a ‘wanted’ trio.

Wynn looked to Lance’s arm. “Is your arm okay?”

“It’s fine,” he said, using his teeth he tie it with a bandage.

“I could still grab something else to treat it,” Wynn offered, putting her pack down.

Lance shook his head. “It’ll heal fast,” he said. “Injuries for bug-larks like me and Beryl don’t linger long.”

Wynn glanced up at his cheek which, had been hit by a dull mace days prior. It no longer swelled. In fact there were hardly remnants of anything worse than a scratch.

He’s right, Wynn thought in surprise. She took out the wrapped loaf of bread. “I hope thatched-wheat is okay.”

Beryl snapped up from his sleep. “Did I hear the mention of food?” he buzzed.

Wynn felt a pang in her heart as she realized they would be parting ways soon.

She broke up the bread and handed out a piece to both of them.

Wynn sat down as they ate. She felt the chasm of despair in her chest grow with each passing second. I need to tell them.

Lance looked at her while Beryl wolfed down his bread. A piece dropped to the ground and a small rat-like wilder with reddish fur crept over, its long whiskers twitching. Beryl quickly snatched up the bread and glowered at the wilder. It scuttled back, watching them from a distance.

Lance studied her. “Is there something wrong?”

“Do you remember the deal we made back in Bloomrot Gully?” Wynn said.

The was a pause.

“Yeah,” Lance said.

Wynn forced out her words. “I think you two would be better off without me. And I don’t mean to break my promise, but I think he’s right.”

Lance raised a brow. “You’re not talking about Brume, are you?”

“I’ve tried,” Wynn said, “really hard to change. I mean, in the plays I’ve watched the hero becomes stronger, braver, more intelligent, and wiser during their journey. But I haven’t become any of those things.” She grew more frustrated as she spoke. “I don’t have any powers or strengths. I’m still terrified of Brume. I can’t even get over my fear of heights. I still haven’t changed. I’m still just Wynn.”

A lark who put her village in peril.

She held back tears.

I really am nothing.

“That may be true,” Lance said, “but you’re also the lark who came up with plan to get us out of those cells, and at a breakneck pace.”

“You also dived into sail-back infested waters,” Beryl offered. “That was pretty brave.”

Wynn sniffed. “I suppose.”

Beryl’s wings buzzed. “Oh, and remember when you threw a broken torch thing at the badger-pine’s face?”

“And,” Lance said, “you saw right through Brume’s trick. Even when we couldn’t.”

“But I still don’t have a chance against Brume,” Wynn said. “He’s too powerful.”

“None of us really do,” Lance said, “at least alone.” He sighed. “I’m the one who made the mistake of charging Brume. He just has this way of getting in your head.”

“Tell me about it,” Wynn muttered. His words had haunted her for days.

Not a guardian, not a caster…a disgrace that ran away from home.

It stung worse than being called venture-smitten.

“I should’ve seen that trick from a mile away,” Lance continued. “You sensed something was off but I didn’t listen. And I’m sorry for that.”

Wynn met his gaze. “So, you think we have chance against Brume?”

Lance turned and pulled out a book from his pack. It was the red-covered one from the tower. He flipped it open to a page he’d marked up.

Wynn and Beryl inspected it.

“I’ve been doing some reading,” Lance said, “and I think I may have found a weakness in Brume’s magic and his strategy. I may have come up with a plan that works, but it’ll take the three of us.” He looked at Wynn. “So, what do you say?”

Wynn hesitated. “I think there’s something else you should know. And I’m only telling you this because I think you should know this before facing Brume again.”

Her heart pounded; it was something she’d hidden even from the Ears of Dim and Trussel. Something that went against everything she’d been taught and further broke her vow to be a guardian. But deep down, she knew she had to say it. If they really did have a chance, they all needed to know as much as they could about Brume.

“Back in that Gully,” Wynn said, “when we first agreed to work together, I didn’t exactly tell you the full story. And don’t get upset when I tell you this, because you didn’t exactly tell much about yourselves either.”

With a nervous breath, Wynn continued.

“I am a Spindleseer,” she said, looking at them steadily. “I come from a line of swirl-ear guardians who are tasked with overseeing a very powerful item. We are to keep it safe from the clutches of any lark who would use its powers for wrongdoing. So, not just a family heirloom like I said earlier. It’s also my village’s strongest line of defense against danger from other larks and wilders. And worse, if Brume figures out how to use it, we may have no chance of ever stopping him.”

Lance gave her a concerned look. “What exactly does he have?”

Wynn took a deep breath.

“He has the Spindlechest.”