Abigail

4 - Abigail Learns History

It had only been three days, but the hush of the nightbreeze rustling the branches and the smell of burning wood felt safe and familiar. Home. Nowhere was a dream, the castle walls and people a safe but dull memory. This? Biting cold, crisp air, blistered feet. This was real.

Abigail shifted in her seat, crossed legs sore on the countless pebbles beneath her. Xander had not eased up on work, despite the noonday's terror. He nodded to Abigail to gather the kindling and she and Laz had pitched shelter together.

Xander held out a canteen of hot soup to her. "Drink," he said, eyes soft. "It will help."

"Thank you," she murmured.

The fire danced in front of her, her mind imagining scenes in them that were not there. A wolf darting there. Xander's arrow flying there. She shuddered.

"What troubles you, child?" he asked, his piercing eyes on her. "Still dwelling on the past, are we? Wolves come. This is their home. It is over."

Was that supposed to help? Abigail thought, struggling not to roll her eyes. Much as she'd developed a fondness for the old man, sometimes it was all to clear he'd not been around people all that much.

"You've seen that before, Phantom Fighter?" Laz asked, his voice quiet.

"Seen much worse than that, boy," he said, tipping back his own canteen and drinking in boiling hot soup like fresh water. "Rogue elves from the Terrean Tribe, slaughtering villages during King Henry's rule. Treewalkers treating lives like dinner and show. And Nefarious—well. There are no words for what he does, are there?"

Abigail tensed at the name. Nefarious. He destroyed her country, forced them to live in hiding while he ran the world like it all existed for his consumption. She tasted blood, and started, realizing she had bit her lip deeply enough to draw blood. And we go to him?

How could I have been so stupid?

She thought about how brazenly she'd sworn to Laz that night. "We rescue them," I said. What an idiot I'd been.

She couldn't turn back—though the thought had danced around her head. But they couldn't do on like this. This was a death march.

"Sir."

He waved the honorific off. "What is it, child?"

"We still have ten days travel ahead?"

"Just about," he nodded, "give or take a day."

"We were useless to you today. Another two things for you to protect, plus yourself."

Xander frowned deeply, his wrinkles looking more pronounced than ever in the flames. "You're children," he said. "Not fighters."

"We were children," she said firmly, gritting her teeth and narrowing her eyes. "And we're walking right into Helvete, the city of Nefarious."

"What are you getting at, child?"

Abigail looked up from the flames and squared his gaze. "How much can you teach us in ten days?"

Xander's face showed surprise before breaking into a small grin. "How much can you learn?"

Abigail smiled back, warmed by different kind of fire. Determination. Hope. It wasn't much, but without it, nothing else mattered.

***

The trees were starting to thin this far into the Awake Forest, and everything looked brighter. Abigail filled her lungs up and blew out a steady stream of air as Xander had taught her. She was carrying nine large stones in her pack, plus everything else. "Strength," Xander had said, "is the first pillar of skill. Honing your talent will be second. Your mind is third."