The Exiles

19. Courage and Sacrifice

When the soldiers came around the bend, Rita Silvetongue stood in the middle of the pass, what was left of it anyway, with a weapon in each hand, and a determined look on her face. Behind her, between her and the lake, the cart lay on its side, hay everywhere. The horse collapsed from sheer exhaustion; the blanket fluttering like a magic carpet underneath it.

Somewhere steps away, closer to the water, lay Nessa, unseen and unheard. Rita hoped that by the time Nessa came around she'd know what to do—get in the water—but for now, she was glad Nessa was quiet. As far as people were concerned, she was alone, and this was how she wanted it to stay.

She gripped her weapons tight, getting ready to engage.

The soldiers dismounted, unsheathing their swords.

"Rita Chymer, you are hereby charged with the crime of breaching the terms of your exile. Surrender your arms. There is nowhere to run."

"Who said anything about running?" Rita sneered at the men, twenty strong, blocking her path. Her weapons each changed to razor-sharp swords. "You want me... come here and disarm me? But I shall warn you, I will take a few men down... if not all."

***

Nessa reached Amer as he collapsed to his knees, beyond exhausted.

Papa reset the time again. "Again."

"I need a minute." Amer struggled to breathe, let alone get up.

"Amer, your brother needs you!" Papa begged as the moment Maine touched Attin loomed.

Amer, unfocused and mind racing, eyed his brother, who was oblivious to what was about to happen, the very thing Maine had done to countless children who could weave. All before four elders could imprison him in the realm of Papa's making—he'd sucked their essence dry and leave them to die.

It was not what Amer wished on anyone, let alone his younger brother. "This is my fault. That should be me." He watched as Attin asked Maine the berries question.

"We will have time for regret later. Let us save Attin and leave this realm first." Papa spun his fingers, not only rewinding the scene but slowing it down a fraction to give Amer a longer time. "Hurry, son. I can't hold this pace for too long."

"Aye, Papa." Amer tried to stand on his feet, only to have his legs buckle beneath his weight.

"Amer?"

"I'm fine, Papa. I just tripped," he lied, attempting to push up again, knowing he was far too exhausted to make it up. But he wasn't about to tell his father that. He couldn't. I have to do this. I have to.

"Not alone, you don't." Nessa pushed her hand through the fog with all her might, clasping her hand around Amer's finally. "I can help you remember what you can't."

Amer felt a cold kiss on the skin, slow at first till it gripped his entire right hand. He couldn't help but think, this is what a ghost's touch would feel like. "Who's there?" he asked in a hush.

"What?" Papa sounded concerned on the other side.

"I feel a hand touching me." Amer tried to shake it off.

Nessa wouldn't let go. In fact, she stood before her brother and took both his hands in hers. "I need you to trust me, Amer! It's me, Nessa."

"Nessa?" Amer breathed in awe. "Is that truly you?"

"Nessa?" For a moment, Papa froze, too.

"Yes. Now close your eyes and let me show you what you need!" Nessa yelled, trying to make sure he'd hear her voice.