Forged in Frost

Human

The next weeks pass in a slog of mechanical obedience and routines that blur each day into the next. Evelyn's leg heals enough that she can finally walk without crutches—a blessed relief. It makes training far easier, with less chance of falling so far behind during runs. Wake. Run. Eat. Train. Sleep. Evelyn's journal goes untouched for many days at a time. She feels no need to waste parchment on repetition. 

The weather is all that changes during those long, dull weeks. The wet heat makes for a rank-smelling sleeping quarters, and the waft of sweat always lingering during mealtimes. The men take frequent trips to the stream, but Evelyn has resorted to bathing in the kitchen when everyone has gone to bed, in a half-cask once piled with baskets.

Evelyn has not spoken to Caius since the incident, except to answer simple questions or obey orders. It is difficult to even look him in the eye without thinking of that awful night. The heat of the flames from her burning village. Her father dying by the hand now training her.

The monotony is broken one hot Calor morning when Asher appears at breakfast with a roll of parchment, looking grave.

"Enemy scouts spotted around Ralik mines," he says. "Prepare to leave at once."

This transforms the energy of the sluggish morning meal. Chairs and benches scrape as soldiers rise. Evelyn stuffs the last of her bread in her mouth as she joins them. She catches Caius leaving faster than the others, beckoning Asher aside for a word. Perhaps to discuss tactics.

Evelyn cannot tell what she is feeling as she straps on her additional armour, takes weapons from the rack, helps pack the horses. For weeks, Caius has had them drill packing and unpacking for emergencies such as these. At first, they were slow and clumsy. Now, they move as one, fluidly adding medicine or potions or food into packs, arranging saddlebags, standing at attention when each task is done. Before a half hour has passed, Evelyn and the others wait at their horses for the next order. Asher and Caius emerge last from the training centre—Asher, resplendent in silver armour bearing Lockmire's crest. It's the first time Evelyn has seen him in this set of armour. He actually looks like he knows how to use that sword on his hip.

Caius is in his usual hardened leather, with the addition of a burnished metal breastplate. He expertly sheathes his sword as he comes down the training centre steps. Evelyn looks away, hating the flutter in her heart at the sight of him.

"Two abreast," Asher announces, mounting his horse. "Scouts with your commander; the rest with me. You two, stay near Lockmire to watch for a diversion. Move out!"

"Wait!" comes a voice up the hill.

It's Leo, thinner and slower, but still coming quickly down the hill, the white of his undergarments still showing through the haphazard armour he's trying to put on while moving.

"Wait for me," he says, and hoists himself onto a free horse.

"Leo," Asher says, in a pacifying way, "those still injured do not have to join us."

"Please, General," Leo replies, turning his horse in Leo's direction. "I'm well enough to ride, at least. I'll remain back with you. I just want to help."

"Your armour's not exactly fit—" Caius starts to say.

"I'll be fine, thank you, Commander," Leo snaps at him, not even turning to look.

"If you're sure," says Asher, and pushes his horse forward. There's no time to argue anyway.

The others follow, two abreast as he ordered. Evelyn waits for the guards to open the gates, glancing back at the castle. In the rush to ready themselves, she forgot about Ilvara. Does she know about the enemies in Ralik? The potential hit there? Would she want to come say goodbye?