Blood-Bound [ Lore of Penrua: Book I ]

52

"I just think it's time," Matei said. "I feel it, my friends, as I didn't before. I feel them coming upon us. I do not know when. But we must make our stand."

They were sitting in the council house, and Mhera was with them. It was a dim place; the hearth was not lit, and the windows were small. Cots lined the back wall, one of which was currently occupied by the sleeping shadowcat. There was a large table in the corner where Mhera, Matei, and three of his council members sat, a jug of ale between them. The only one not seated was Uachi, who stood leaning against the wall with his cup in his hand, glowering from beneath his cowl.

"You did not think it time earlier today, when we decided—together—to move," said the ranger.

"The camp is already deep in preparations," said the other man there: Talen, Mhera assumed. "Wasted time, if you've decided not to go."

"I decide nothing on my own," Matei said. "I bring you a suggestion, is all. We decide together what to do. The council's decision is mine."

"What changed?" Tryn tapped her empty ale cup on the table, looking at Matei intently. "You went off with her and came back with this fresh idea. What did the Starborn woman say to you?"

Mhera, sitting at Matei's side with an untouched cup of ale before her, went pale. Matei would tell them. Her secret would be revealed. He could never keep his promise to her now. Not once Hanpe knew of her gift and the edge it might give them over the empire.

"Mhera said nothing, not about this," Matei lied. He glanced at Mhera, including her in the conversation with the gesture. "Reasonably, she wanted to know where she and I would go when our camp breaks up. I told her I didn't know. It was ... well, a bit of a quarrel. Not uncommon. Our situation is complicated."

Uachi snorted.

"As we talked, I realized I did not want to leave Hanpe. I want to stay here in this home we've built for ourselves," Matei finished. "And I thought: we must stay, and stand, and fight."

Mhera tried not to show her relief. He had lied for her to his friends. She would never have expected it of him. Yet his explanation felt thin and illogical, even to her ears. She took a sip of her ale, but it was bitter, and she put it aside.

The rebel king leaned back in his chair, looking up at the rafters of the building, the walls, the hearth someone must have built stone-by-stone. "Years of effort, years of toil. What will we do? Run away, let the empire burn it to the ground? Folk have been born here. Died here."

"And what use will it be to us when we're the ones dead?" Talen asked. "We've headquarters in the capitol. We will not be completely unmoored."

"But will we be dead? Why can we not fight them?" Matei asked.

Tryn scowled. "With a crop of green fighters, some of 'em younger than the bread I ate for breakfast? You tell me, Matei."

"There are as many experienced fighters as there are striplings," Uachi said. His tone was different now; the challenge had gone out of it. "And we've a force of rangers, and not a few battle mages."

Matei smiled at Uachi, nodding. "We can defend ourselves here as we might not in open space, running. The Duskwood is treacherous, even for us. If the empire attacks, they will certainly not come from a dozen directions at once."

"The old and the children—we can shelter them here," Sashta said, speaking for the first time. "We can put them in the center-most cottages and guard them as we fight on the perimeters."

Matei nodded. "I ask you this, my friends ... if not today, when? When will we finally stop hiding and take up our banner?"

"When we're ready," said Tryn. She looked at Talen, who nodded in agreement.

"And what will tell us we're ready?" asked Uachi. "There's no way to know. No way to judge it."

"There's enough to know it isn't now," said Talen.

"Is there?" Sashta shook her head. "No—I think Matei has a strong point. We should have considered this at first. We received Matei's news with fear and saw only one possibility: running. But we have weapons here. Food. Strong buildings. Plenty of water. We know the terrain much better than the Starborn dogs can hope to."

Uachi took up the thread. "Right. We are well-positioned. And what are we aiming for in the end? To march on the Holy City? The walls are high, and the city bristles with guards and soldiers. We must defend our territory now. Let them come to us, and let us crush them. Then, after we've tested our strength against the Corpsemaker's men, perhaps we can turn our heads to the north."

Mhera felt nauseous. She reminded herself that the Starborn soldiers who would march upon Hanpe would all be battle-seasoned men. Adult men, not boys. Men who were ready to fight, to die. Not like the old folk and children of Hanpe. Surely, if the rebels had time to prepare, they would meet the challenge. Surely, most of the innocents could be saved.

She saw her uncle's face in her mind. He looked the way he had on that long-ago day in his council chamber, the day Mhera's future had unraveled, leaving her with nothing but a cold, stony path toward the Haven. His bloodless face had been without expression, his eyes so frightened they did not see her.

Now, she had done what he had feared of her own volition.

"I, too, only thought of running," Matei said, returning to Sashta's point. "Since the night I escaped the dungeon, I've been running. I want to run. I will not lie to you. I mislike the thought of seeing that dark place again if I am captured, or of seeing all these people in danger. But wherever we go, there will be danger. We are fugitives and criminals. I do not think that running is the right decision now. I think we must stay here and guard our home. We must meet them with cold steel, whenever they come—and our birthright, the magic in our blood."

Mhera put her hand over her face. A tear rolled down her cheek. She drew a shaky breath.

In a voice that was half a laugh, Uachi said, "Look. She cries for them."

"Uachi," Matei snapped. Surprising Mhera, he reached out to her. He placed his hand not on her shoulder, but on the chair behind her, perhaps sensing that his touch was unwelcome. It was a protective gesture, warding off Uachi's comment and whatever the others might say, and he moved the conversation abruptly along. "We must decide."

Tryn sighed. She reached for the jug of ale and poured herself another half a cup, casting a dark look to Mhera. "How long until they come, then? How long do we have to prepare?"

"I don't know," said Matei.

"Not long enough," Talen muttered. He glanced at Mhera. "I need not remind you all that we have something the Corpsemaker must badly want to recover. But if this is the way the council is leaning, I am with you. We stand together or not at all."

"And I'm with you, too," Tryn said. "But we must refocus our people—immediately."

"Then let's do it," Matei said. "They may resent the day's work, but it is not all in vain. It will be good to have an inventory of our supplies and a count of our weapons. Talen, when do you go to Karelin?"

"If this is our choice, we should go tomorrow. I will let them know we are preparing to fight. Perhaps I can gain some intelligence to help us."

"Good. Should you have need of another to help with the spell, find me. We have our decision," Matei said. He raised his cup of ale, and the other leaders of Hanpe raised theirs, too. They drank, draining their cups, and then all but Mhera rose, leaving their empty cups on the table.

"I hope you're not as stupid as you sound," Tryn said as she pulled open the door.

Matei said, "Me too."