Mark of the Mage: Scribes of Medeisia Book I Read online

  Chapter 16

  “Take this.”

  I looked up from the log where I sat to find Kye standing behind me holding what looked like an old, well-used bow. He didn't wait for me to reach for it. He leaned over instead, both of his arms going over my head as he rested it across my knees. I stared down at it.

  We were in the forest again, having taken our leave of Feras. We'd exited back into the woods through the tree after having a very long and arduous conversation about guerilla warfare, about convincing a nation to give up its king. I'd looked closely at Feras, at his old, weary ruby eyes, and I'd reached out to touch him again, to touch his cool, dry scales

  “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping my people?”

  The old dragon's eyes had met mine, and I'd seen my reflection in his gaze. I'd looked wild, untamed. The image didn't match the inner me, the girl hiding beneath the skin, beneath the rebels' clothes and tangled hair. And then there had been fire surrounding me in the reflection. I wasn't sure if it was a trick of Feras' or if it was my own imagination, but there had been fire.

  “Because by helping you, we are helping ourselves.”

  It was all he'd said, and I had no choice but to accept that. For now.

  The bow was heavy in my lap, and I stroked a finger down its side. Kye had removed his arms and was now kneeling next to me.

  Beyond my log seat, green and brown-clad rebels clustered together in groups, some of them training, others talking. Some even laughed. There was the clash of metal against metal, and the occasional whir of an arrow speeding past. The trees were whispering amongst themselves, low murmurings I couldn't make out but only I could hear. Eyes stared at me from the foliage. I didn't have to see them to know it was the wolves.

  “You should know the basic use of the sword and a bow. Using them will get easier with time, become natural, as you build muscle and experience. But we start with the basics.”

  Kye's words brought my attention back to the man at my side, and I had to fight not to jump when he suddenly lifted my hand, one of his fingers tracing my palm. It caused a strange numb sensation in my head that traveled to my stomach, leaving it full of angry bubbles.

  “It's good that your hands are not soft,” Kye said. I tried pulling away, the insult burning, but Kye held on. “It is a compliment here, having tough hands. Compared to most of us, yours are like satin. But time here will change that.”

  I swallowed hard because I wasn't sure if the feeling in my stomach was nice or nauseous. I pulled away again, and this time Kye relinquished his hold, replacing my hand with the bow. He lifted it, keeping it above my lap, but close enough I could make out every detail. It was simple, made out of yew wood.

  “This is a war bow,” Kye said. He took my hand again, and placed the bow in my palm, closing his fingers over mine on the wood. “Take this. It's yours now.”

  He let go of my hand, and I gripped the bow, lifting it carefully with both hands. I stood and held it in front of me. It was long, reaching from the top of my head to my waist. I'd seen longer bows than this and knew Kye had chosen it because of my size.

  “Have you ever shot one before?” Kye asked.

  I turned to look at him. “It's a favorite pastime for ladies. I was required to learn along with my half sister.”

  He nodded. “I figured as much. Is your aim good?”

  I shrugged. “It's true.”

  He seemed to give this some thought before stepping behind me.

  “The bows ladies use are useless. The draw weight is low. The force behind it enough to land a close target, but not enough to cause a lot of damage. It's a game, nothing more. I'm sure you're aware women are not welcome in the Medeisian army.”

  I nodded.

  Kye let his arms fall on each side of me, his hands taking the bow before positioning it as if he intended to shoot even without the arrow. I let my hands drop to my sides.

  “The draw weight on this bow is less than your body weight, but not by much. It can do a lot of harm close range and considerable damage long range, but it will be hard for you to pull at first. You'll need to practice often.”

  Words didn't seem necessary, and I nodded again.

  “Since I'm assuming you know how to string and shoot a bow, I won't insult you by teaching you how. Your job will be gaining the strength to use it. This bow is meant to kill.”

  He lifted my hand with one of his and replaced it on the bow. He waited for me to grasp it before he released my hand entirely.

  “And the sword?” he asked. “Do you have any experience with it?”

  I shook my head. “None.”

  He looked over my head at a group of young men and women feinting with wooden swords. A few used real weapons.

  “You can train with me or the others,” he said.

  I followed his gaze.

  “I'd rather train with the others.”

  There was a long stretch of silence.

  “I'll talk to one of the women. It will be easier training with your own sex to begin with,” Kye said finally. There was no censure in his tone, nothing to suggest he was hurt by my decision to train with someone else.

  There was silence again, and I watched the other rebels in the early morning light. We had passed the night in the cave, and I was tired. Kye still stood close enough, I could feel the heat of him against my back. He smelled like pine needles and wood smoke.

  “Do you think I'm the One?” I asked him suddenly, my voice low.

  If I caught him off guard, he didn't let it show. His voice was calm when he answered.

  “If I thought you weren't, I would have done more to save your maid.”

  The pain I felt in that moment made me close my eyes. In my mind's eye, I was in the prison wagon again, the dark eyes of a soldier peering in at me, eerie, cold. Only days to the Ardus, he'd told me. It had been a ruse to convince me to escape. It'd worked because I'd refused to die. I wouldn't give Raemon the satisfaction.

  “You are right to question yourself and the Book of Truth. Too much confidence leads to death, and a soothsayer's words are always subject to change,” Kye said.

  Kye had moved closer. I could feel the fabric of his tunic rubbing against mine. I wanted to step away but didn't. He'd reminded me of Aigneis, of his part in her death.

  “Even if you are not her, you can become a leader, Stone. You can give people hope,” Kye added.

  I cringed. “Not Stone. Do not call me Stone.”

  I was Stone only to the people I cared about.

  “Then at least embrace the power you do have, Drastona, and give the rebels a reason to fight the king and not themselves. We've been too long without a home, without hope.”

  I gripped the bow until my knuckles were white. I wasn't afraid of being an icon. I was afraid of being a disappointment.

  I stared hard at the bow, and I listened to the grunts of those fighting with the swords. I'd learn to use the weapons and I'd listen to the forest. I'd give myself hope, and in doing so, I could only pray I did the same for others.

  Give me strength, Silveet, I prayed as I turned to face Kye.

  The line of his jaw was tight, and he stared over my head.

  “You have my word. I'll give them hope,” I whispered.

  Kye looked down then, and I knew he saw the resolve in my eyes. He nodded.

  “You're a strong one, scribe,” he answered.

  Kye's eyes searched mine a moment, and he leaned forward before leaning away again, his jaw tight once more. He took a step back and stopped.

  “Get some rest. Ena will fetch you some food.”

  With those words, he turned and left, his hands fisted at his sides.