She couldn't even begin to keep track of all the different emotions that were fighting to the surface at the thought of her mother. She was honored that Emariya wanted her to accompany her, but at the same time, she wasn't thrilled about leaving home. Even more, her mother's words before she departed were weighing heavily on her mind.
“
Jessa, your job will not be an easy one. Looking after your mistress on this journey will be like nothing you've ever done.”
“
Has looking after Emariya ever been easy, Mama?” Jessa had teased. It was no secret that her mother often complained of how headstrong Emariya tended to be. She had never embraced the conventions of what was considered proper for a lady, as much as Mairi had tried.
They'd been in the kitchen packing up the last of the food they would be taking with them. “This will be different, Jessa. She will be in danger from much more than a few ruffled feathers over not observing proper formalities. Though, you will need to see that she makes a good impression when you present her to the prince—may The Three give you the strength.” The heavily dimpled woman had looked to the heavens. “That won't be an easy task, either. But Jessa, listen up now. There are those who would happily see her not reach Thalmas, and they will look to stand in her way. What she is doing with this journey…well, there are those who have spoken of its possibility, and are determined to prevent it at all costs.” Her mother had looked her hard in the eye, stressing the importance of what she was saying.
“
Spoken of it how?” Jessa was confused. Emariya had only decided to go to Thalmas a few days before. While she talked, she carefully wrapped slices of turkey before tucking them into the canvas pack lying on the table.
Ignoring her question, her mother continued, “She may well be able to finish what her mother started, but only if you can keep her safe.” Mairi had absentmindedly wiped her hands on her apron as she turned away from her daughter.
“
What her mother started? I don't understand, Mama, what are you going on about?” Jessa was starting to worry. Would her mother be all right here without her? Jessa gently touched her mother's arm, turning her to face her again.
Mairi had sighed. “Lady Valencia came to Eltar because she had dreamt of a day when we might all prosper in peace. Emariya has the ability to bring that peace.”
“
Mother, why haven't you ever mentioned this before? You've always been reluctant to speak of Lady Valencia.” Jessa asked, confused. She could tell that her mother felt that what she was saying was gravely important, so why didn't she just come out with it? Nothing she was saying made sense.
“
Because she must find her own path, instead of walking the one she believes she was born to. Do not tell her what I have said Jessa. Promise me.” Mairi's expression was serious.
“
I promise, Mama.” Jessa patted her mother's arm, still concerned.
“
She'll have Khane to keep her safe from physical harms—we can hope, at least. But she needs you, as well. Her heart tends to run away with her wits. Not everyone you meet will be able to be trusted. It’s up to you to keep her eyes open, but more importantly, you must make sure she keeps her ears open. Jessa, listen to me now: you have got to keep her safe. I tried to keep her mother from harm, but I couldn't. I pray you have better luck than I did.” Her mother pulled her close in a tender embrace. “But oh, how I shall miss you, my girl.”
“
I'll miss you too, Mama,” Jessa whispered, her heart catching in her throat.
Her mother had an uncanny way of being right. Jessa couldn’t help hoping her mother had been overestimating the trials that lay ahead.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Is There Any Mercy
Up ahead, Garith could just make out the bank of the river that separated them from Thandrel's Fjord. He knew the river would be raging —had heard it for the last few miles. The raging of the river was likely all that was keeping Sheas on the other bank. The seas past the fjord were impassable, especially at this time of year. If Sheas wanted to mount an assault, they would have to come by land. And come they would, as soon as spring was firmly underway. When most of Warren's Rest became antsy to get to the planting, their defense would be even weaker.
The river would begin to freeze over in the coming weeks as the temperatures fell and winter came fully upon them. Fortunately, the rushing of the river beneath the top layer of ice would prevent the river from freezing solidly enough for it to be crossed by wagon. Any who tried would likely end up trapped beneath the ice. Then, as the spring thaw arrived, the river banks would overflow with the extra water that ran down from the mountains. Once the thaw was complete and the extra water had reached the sea, the river would be as fierce as a newborn lamb, ambling along and confidently crossed. It was then that Sheas would come. Garith had no doubt about that.
And what of him? What use would he be, standing here watching hopelessly as the enemy marched upon them? He could help re-shoe horses, that was true. But the horses weren't going anywhere, waiting on the banks of the fjord. Not very likely to lose shoes.
He couldn't forge more weapons—he didn't have a forge. So really, what use was he? The answer was harsh: no use at all. At least if he had been left back at Warren's Rest, he could have helped to get everyone inside the estate walls. He might not be able to help defend, but he could try, couldn't he? He answered his own question with scorn. What did he know of fighting?
And if he had to kill someone, could he? Not likely. Unless…yes, there it was. The only reason he could fathom himself intentionally taking another man's life. To save Emariya. He would do it, if it kept her safe. But Emariya wasn't here at the fjord, and she wasn't back at Warren's Rest hoping that Sheas didn't come, either. She was headed to Thalmas, to beg her betrothed to send help to her father and to Warren's Rest and the fjord. She was off trying to procure aid for him while he did what? Sat around waiting to be advanced upon. At least one of them was doing something. At least one of them was being useful.
Just past midday, they rode up to the small camp at the base of the fjord. The wagon pulled in next to the only other wagon in the camp. Garith dismounted to help unload it. His thoughts grew no less grim as he carried box after box into the tent that had been designated for supplies. The cold wind bit at the back of his neck, and he pulled his worn, fur-lined cloak tighter around himself. Small fires had been built throughout the encampment. Near each, groups of men were huddled, searching for warmth. Garith was struck with dismay as he fully took in the conditions here at the camp.
It was chaos. The only things organized in the camp were the supplies, and that was only because they had no true use of them. Most of the weapons sat waiting in their crates. There were no enemies this side of the bank to use them on, and no weapons capable of reaching the other side. The shoes for the horses also sat untouched. The horses themselves were standing around dejectedly in their newly built pasture. The men sat around their fires, even more dejected than their horses. Every so often, they would shift uneasily, antsy for something to do. Their anxiety hung in the air, rolling around the camp like the fog coming off the fjord. They couldn't realistically cross the fjord and initiate the fight now. They couldn't return to Warren's Rest to wait out the winter; if they did, they would be signing the death warrant for any men left behind. And they would have no choice but to leave men behind, or else Warren's Rest would be caught without warning when Sheas finally did advance. Some had gotten anxious and ventured out of the camp. Skirmishes had broken out here and there, and the injured from those minor scuffles lay stretched out near the fires. Most were beyond help. Some had already perished. The smell of death and desperation hung so heavily in the air it was tangible. It was the most depressing sight Garith had ever seen. The weight of it pressed on him, urging him to turn back toward home. By The Three, he didn't want to be here.
Most of the men sitting around the fires seemed resigned to their fate. So for now, they sat. And waited. Unable to go forward, unable to go back. Like a penned up herd, they waited for the slaughter. Garith didn't think anyone actually believed they could prevail here when the fighting did come. They were too few, and too inexperienced. He wasn't sure which was worse: the thought of what was to come, or the waiting. None of these men were accustomed to sitting idly. Around the homesteads and the estate, there was always something that needed tending. Here, though, they had no real purpose, unless they bothered to send scouts along the bank or a courier back to Warren's Rest. Most of them would sit there with nothing much to do, save for waiting. Waiting. Getting colder, getting weaker, more hungry, and more afraid. And what could scouts report?
Yes sir, Sheas is on the other bank. No sir, they haven't begun to cross. Yes sir, they are as miserable as us.
Except there really didn't even seem to be anyone in charge for the scouts to report to.
He wondered what the scouts from Sheas were reporting. And then it hit him. “Oh, The Three have mercy!” Depending on how far up into the Borderlands their scouts went, they might well have very useful information to report. If they ended up near the Thalmas border, they might hear talk from the pass. And if they heard talk from the pass, they could very well learn that Emariya had gone for reinforcements. Would they step up their assault and try to take Warren's Rest sooner? Or would they try and stop her?
She had begged him to go with her, and instead he had blindly followed her brother's orders. He didn't even know who—if anyone—she had with her for protection. If anything happened to her…No, he couldn't let himself think that right now. “I'm coming, Riya, I'm coming,” he vowed under his breath. Dammit, he never should have let Reeve send him away. He knew that disobeying the orders of the Lord of Warren's Rest might mean he was never welcomed back, but he didn't care. There was nothing left for him there. Quickly saddling his mount, he headed north, praying desperately that he would be able to find her in time.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A New Reality
The next morning they awoke to find everything blanketed in a soft coating of snow. Flakes were still gently falling as Emariya made her way to the stables. It was odd that winter was a time when the plants died off and the animals slept, yet at the same time it felt like everything was fresh and new. Perhaps it was because, for as far as she could see, the snow was unmarred, a landscape untouched by human hands.
The stable master's son, Rink, waited in front of the stables with a brown burlap sack thrown casually over his shoulder. He was thin as a spring sapling, all knobby legs and arms. Emariya wasn't sure if his hair was dirty brown or just dirty. He could have been no more than thirteen, and Emariya began to worry. Truly, how much assistance would a boy such as this provide on a journey like theirs?
Then the boy flashed her an eager smile and bowed. “‘Ello My Lady Warren! I'm Rink!” His exuberance was catching, and Emariya couldn't help smiling back.
“
Well hello there, Rink, it's a pleasure to meet you.” Emariya said.
“
Oh no, miss, the pleasure's mine!” the boy said, nodding his head vigorously. Emariya noticed his cheeks were covered in pale strawberry freckles that blessed him with a very childlike appearance. Oh, whatever was she going to do with this one? She laughed to herself; perhaps she should not have been as quick to agree to Lord Calkirk's offer.
Coming out of the stable leading a quiet chestnut horse, Roland corrected his son. “It's 'Milady', Rink, not 'miss'. You be sure and address her as 'Milady'.” He smiled apologetically at Emariya. “He'll learn quick, Lady Warren. I promise he'll give ya no trouble. He's a good lad, just gets a bit excited at times.”
Emariya took his hand. “It's a great kindness you are doing me by letting your son accompany us. His assistance with our mounts will be greatly appreciated. We won't forget your sacrifice. He'll have a place with me in Castle Ahlen, you have my word.” She felt bad for the father who had lost his wife and was now having to say goodbye to his son.
So many goodbyes lately,
she thought sadly.
She turned to the horse, checking it over to discreetly to give Roland and Rink a moment of privacy. The gelding pleased Emariya. He had a quiet nature, and stood calmly while she checked his saddle and his feet. He appeared to be sound as well as gentle.
“
Will he do all right on the rocks once we reach Thalmas?” She turned her attention back to Roland, who nodded at her question as he wiped furiously at his eyes.
“
He will do well, for sure. Used to belong to a trader who traveled all over The Three Corners. He can do the distance and the terrain will give him no pause. He can be a tad lazy at times, but he sees no need to get worked up, either. I think your girl will like him right fine.”
As if summoned, Jessa appeared from around the other side of the stable. “What do you think, will he do?” Emariya indicated to the horse.
“
He's…big.” Jessa gulped. Everyone laughed.
“
Do not fret, Miss, he'll be kind to ya.” Roland added. Then he turned to Rink. “All right now, off with ya.” Roland gave his son a tender hug, then straightened.
Soon after, the party rode out the gates of Calkirk into the gently swirling snow. Emariya saw Rink look back and wave, so she looked back over her own shoulder. Standing near the stables, Roland and Sosha were waving energetically. A short while later, Rink spoke up.