Weynon awoke to the sound of sniffling. As he looked around the common room he realized he’d slept longer than everyone else, as all the rest of the soldiers that had set up their mats on the floor were already gone, their things packed up. He could hear them outside though, so at least he hadn’t been left behind. Dowyr and Garec wouldn’t let that happen, of course.

  Crouching near one of the fireplaces was Elethe, the source of the sniffling. Her back was to him, and she didn’t seem to hear him as he got up. He thought of channeling to help her, but ever since he had done it without her asking, it felt wrong. Still, he couldn’t let himself do nothing, so he walked over and crouched beside her, holding his hands out to the fire.

  The only problem was he had no idea what to say. He couldn’t think of anything comforting or profoundly meaningful. Not even a passage from The Five Sentinels that might bolster her spirits.

  “Are you alright?” Was the best he could manage.

  Elethe wiped away a tear. “I’m tired,” she sighed. “Even after all that sleep.”

  Weynon nodded. One of the first things he’d learned back at the Academy was that if you exhausted yourself by channeling to the point of passing out, all the time spent unconscious hardly counted as proper sleep.

  “No one knows what it’s like being a Class 4 Empath,” Elethe continued. “I can feel everything, all the time. I try to block it out, but sometimes… it gets so intense. Last night, every Kircan that got…” She made a sharp downwards gesture. “Two seconds of sheer terror, then nothing. Blip, blip, blip. And I have to pretend it doesn’t affect me. I can’t stand it. And now Garec is… I can’t even bring myself to face him. I thought things got better on the way to the Fort, but now… hah… I shouldn’t be telling you this. You’re too young, you’re probably having a worse time of it than I am.”

  Weynon frowned. “It’s okay. No one’s expecting you to be invincible.”

  Elethe sniffed. “Aren’t they? I’m supposed to be the one who wins this for us.”

  “But you’re not doing it alone. You shouldn’t pretend that you are. You can let me help.”

  “I don’t want your help,” she snapped, then she stood and turned away, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry. Please don’t help me like that. It feels like cheating, and I only feel guilty.”

  He stood up and turned to her. “I won’t do it unless you ask, or if it seems like an emergency.”

  “…Thank you.” She turned back. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to say sorry. I want to help, however and whenever I can.”

  Elethe gave a weak smile. “You’re a good kid. I don’t even need my Emogic to tell that you mean it.”

  “I always mean what I say.”

  “I know. And if I think of anything, I will ask.”

  Weynon nodded. “Whatever is in my power to do, I’ll do it. And… I also have something I need to ask you.”

  She hesitated. “What is it?”

  He took a deep breath. “I know that Heaven watches over our path, and that with him by our side we’ll see victory, but just in case there’s a fight and maybe Dowyr and I are both in danger… and, for whatever reason, only one of us could be saved… if it’s in your power, save Dowyr.”

  Elethe only stared at him. He stared back, resolute.

  “Why?” she finally asked.

  “Because my soul is at peace with my fate. Promise me you’ll protect Dowyr if I can’t.”

  Elethe grimaced but nodded. “Alright… I promise.”

  “Thank you.”

  She nodded again then turned and went outside, slamming the door behind her. A moment later she stormed back in and went to the back room, vigorously rubbing her hands together.

  “Coat, coat, coat,” she muttered.

  Weynon decided to get dressed as well. When he finished, he opened the door outside to be greeted by a thick wall of fog. He could only make out an occasional shape moving around in it.

  “In or out, bud,” Elethe said from behind, making him jump.

  He walked out, looking around for familiar faces. Elethe followed close behind, then she grabbed his shoulder and turned him down another street.

  “Dowyr is over here,” she said. “One nice thing about being an Empath, it’s easy to figure out where certain people are in all this soup.”

  She led him around, occasionally having to dodge Parastenians appearing out of nowhere in their colorful coats giving warm greetings and commenting on the morning weather. There was music coming from all around, and paired with the fog, it gave off an almost ethereal feeling. Weynon recognized the tones of cedar flutes, buffalo hide drums, and lutes, all of which were played back in his home village on special occasions. How strange to hear a bit of home in a place so far away.

  Eventually they came upon Dowyr, shivering his arms off and watching as a couple soldiers saddled his horse.

  “What took you so long?” he channeled.

  “Well…” Weynon turned to the fog and gestured broadly.

  “Was everyone waiting for us?” Elethe asked.

  “Like I’d know. I just wanna get out of here.”

  Weynon smiled. He was glad Dowyr let him in on anything he was saying to other people. It helped make things less confusing.

  “Do you know where we’re going next?” Weynon asked.

  “No one told you? We’re going to set an ambush for the next group of Kircans on their way here. Garec doesn’t want them to realize we came through and alert others. He’s also thinking of using enemy uniforms to sneak into Norwood and needs more.” Dowyr shivered. “Not looking forward to all of this.”

  Weynon pat his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”

  “Ah, there ye are,” Donnan said, appearing out of the fog like a looming mountain. “Garec is looking for ye three. We’ll be on the move soon. Come, and stay close. Did ye eat breakfast yet? Air’s a bit thick this morning.”

  “I just woke up,” Weynon said, the three of them now following Donnan.

  “Overslept? Well, can’t blame ye. I’ll let Sirona know and she’ll bring some hot soup.”

  “Are we going to ambush the Kircans outside of town?” Dowyr channeled.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “A bit further than just outside town, the mayor is quite firm after last night that there’ll be no fightin’ between his people’s doors. But they’ve arranged for a little farewell party, as is their custom for guests.”

  “What sort of party?” Weynon asked.

  “Oh, just singin’ and dancin’, good food, what they can spare anyways. Lift the men’s spirits, and their own I suppose, after what they’ve been through. Plenty of dance partners to go around after so many of their men have been taken. I hope we’ll be successful soon enough after we leave that they’ll be troubled no more.”

  They soon began to hear singing and clapping. Weynon caught glimpses of groups dancing in the fog and those who watched with smiles and laughter. He smiled and felt the urge to join, especially when handfuls of young boys and girls came along and beckoned them to a warm fire, but Donnan shooed them off with a lighthearted word, and if that didn’t work, an imposing glare to chill their bones.

  They met up with Garec as he was addressing a couple of officers, and only a moment later he turned his attention to them.

  “Good morning,” he said, giving a dismissive nod to Donnan. “How are you guys doing?”

  “Good,” Weynon said.

  “Fine,” Elethe said.

  Cold, Dowyr signed.

  “You’ll be feeling warm soon enough,” Garec said. “When we move out, I want you boys staying at the back. I don’t expect the Kircans to get the jump on us again, but just in case, I want you away from any danger. Elethe, you’ll stay behind me. We’re not having you channel today, just keeping a feel out for any foreign Emogic. If all goes to plan, we’ll ambush the next group of Kircans tomorrow and not lose anyone.”

  “Do you want us to help fight?” Weynon asked.

  Garec’s eyes widened. “Light, no! I don’t want you anywhere near the ambush. You’ll be with Sirona as far away I think necessary.”

  Weynon nodded, though a feeling of uselessness seeped in. At least in the battle before he’d been able to calm the horses down.

  “What about me?” Elethe asked.

  “I’ll have you staying back too. You’re too valuable to be near danger. Instead, I might have you try using Dowyr’s Emogic to link with me and the other officers to coordinate the ambush. With you being able to sense what the enemy is channeling you can communicate what’s going on to us. We’ll practice early tomorrow morning to work out any problems.”

  Sirona came over with bowls of steaming soup on a tray for Weynon and Elethe. She gave an accusatory look to Dowyr, who returned an innocent smile.

  “What did he do this time?” Garec asked her.

  “Nothing,” Sirona said with a sniff. “At least, that I know of, yet.”

  She turned away, and on her back was a piece of parchment with a drawing of some sort of wild-eyed, gaping wolf. Then she vanished into the fog.

  Dowyr glanced at Garec, still maintaining his innocent smile, and signed, she’s nice.

  “Better hope someone takes it off for her before she finds out,” Garec said quietly.

  Elethe rolled her eyes and got to eating her soup.

  “Is that everything you wanted to tell us?” Weynon asked.

  Garec gave a nod. “Yes, go ahead and find a nice fire to sit by. Someone will come for you when it’s time to go.”

  They made their way through the fog and followed the sound of soldiers chatting to find a nearby fire to sit at. The soldiers hardly paid them mind, and some got pulled away from the fire for a dance with the Parastenian women for a time. Music continued to ring from all around, as if out of nowhere with the fog hiding its source. Weynon ate his soup quietly, enjoying the sounds of home. Dowyr sat by him, holding his hands to the fire and tapping a foot to the beat. Elethe sat across from them, bobbing her head to the music. A handful of young boys tried to pull her away for a dance, but she politely turned them down. Some of the teenage girls even tried to get Weynon to dance with them, but he’d never been able to dance properly with others, so he too declined.

  “Why don’t you go to dance?” Weynon asked Dowyr.

  Dowyr blinked at him. “I don’t know if you noticed, but no one’s asking me to dance with them.”

  “So?”

  “So, I’d rather not embarrass myself.”

  “I bet you’re a better dancer than me.”

  “He is,” Elethe said. “He’s watched people dancing in public performances then practiced himself when no one was watching.”

  Dowyr gave her a flat, dangerous look, when a girl in a bright yellow and blue jacket came up to him and asked him if he’d like to dance. All the soldiers around the fire turned their attention to him. Weynon grinned, and Elethe looked like she was trying to suppress a laugh.

  The girl was rather pretty. Maybe a year older than Dowyr, but Weynon could never tell how old people were. She looked confused at everyone’s sudden attention for a moment, but still kept a smile on, awaiting Dowyr’s answer.

  Dowyr looked at her with a blank face and signed, I can’t speak.

  Weynon sighed inwardly. This boy was hopeless.

  “Oh!” the girl exclaimed. “Are you deaf? I’ve learned a little bit of signs. Hold on…” She began signing, dance… want to… with me? “I hope I got that right.”

  Dowyr pursed his lips and channeled, “Weynon, what should I do?”

  “You got it right, he’s just a bit slow and needs some encouragement,” Weynon said, nudging Dowyr.

  “Shadowwalker’s gonna pay you a visit.”

  The girl smiled and offered her hand to Dowyr, and he took it. He followed her into the fog, looking back at Weynon with eyes like daggers before disappearing.

  “A long visit.”

  “He’s happy,” Elethe said. “Sort of.”

  “Course he is,” one of the soldiers said. “A dance with a girl like that would make any alien happy.”

  “I’m just glad he accepted,” Weynon said.

  “What about you?” Elethe asked. “Why don’t you go and dance?”

  “I’m… a really bad dancer. And I don’t like it, really. Listening to the music is good enough for me.”

  A couple soldiers muttered they were of the same mind, and their companions bantered back about their lack of spine. Weynon finished his soup and a passing Parastenian took the bowl away. He stared at the fire, drumming his hands on his legs in time with the music. A few minutes later, Dowyr stalked back and sat down, his face blank. All eyes once again turned to him, expectant. He refused to look at anyone.

  “That’s not going to work on me,” Elethe said. “Nuh-uh, even if you try hiding it, I can still feel it, and you can’t do anything about that.”

  Weynon looked between her and Dowyr, confused. Then suddenly Dowyr was no longer sitting next to him, as if he had never been. Weynon’s head whipped around, searching, but wherever Dowyr was, the fog hid him.

  “What’s going on?” Weynon asked.

  “He tried to make us think he came back like nothing happened. I saw him sit next to you, but he wasn’t really there. I think he’s gone back to the inn.”

  “Why?”

  Elethe shrugged. “I don’t know, he’s an alien!”

  Weynon got up. “I’ll go make sure he’s okay.”

  “He’s fine.”

  “Maybe, but you can only read feelings, not minds.”

  “That’s… fair enough. Can you find your way back?”

  “Probably.”

  It took him a few minutes, and some help from a passing Parastenian, but he got back to the inn and went inside. A couple soldiers were packing up his sleeping mat and blankets. Garec always made sure they were taken care of, but he felt bad the soldiers had to clean up after him, despite their assurances that it wasn’t a big deal.

  Dowyr was sitting next to the fire, just where Elethe had been when Weynon awoke.

  I don’t want to talk, Dowyr signed.

  Weynon sat down next to him. “I thought you couldn’t talk.”

  Dowyr gave him a dour look. It was hard to suppress a grin.

  “Sorry.”

  Weynon contented himself to enjoy the heat of the fire and dance of the flames as he sat by his best friend. There might be less than an hour before they’d be back in the saddle, hoping for clear skies and a sun to give them some semblance of warmth. He wondered if the wolves would come find him today. Perhaps he’d find a bird willing to keep an eye out for them in exchange for something to eat, though most birds he’d encountered so far didn’t seem to be intelligent enough. Perhaps he’d be lucky enough to spot a crow, though a cardinal would probably work well enough too.

  “She said I was a good dancer and kissed my cheek,” Dowyr channeled.

  Weynon nodded. “She was pretty. Is Shadowwalker still going to pay me a visit?”

  Dowyr’s face reddened slightly. “No. Sorry.”

  “I know you didn’t mean it.”

  Dowyr pursed his lips. “I kinda did. Maybe not literally. I don’t know.”

  “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have made you go dance. I could tell you didn’t want to.”

  “It’s not that I didn’t want to. I guess… I don’t want to get attached to anybody.”

  Weynon winced. Did that include himself? “Why not?”

  “Because it hurts less when they leave. Everyone eventually realizes I’m not what they first thought and leave, or they find… someone better, nicer, more cute or handsome, whatever. It’s easier to just not bother. Less painful.”

  Weynon wasn’t sure how to respond. He wished Elethe had come too, she would’ve known what to say, would’ve understood what Dowyr was feeling.

  “I won’t leave,” Weynon finally said.

  Dowyr smiled briefly. “You’re the exception, since you cheat.”

  Weynon frowned. “Cheat?” He had never cheated at anything in his whole life, as far as he could remember.

  “Yep, because you can’t leave. I don’t mean literally, I mean in here.” Dowyr touched Weynon’s chest. “I think it’s impossible for you. You cheated, somehow.”

  Weynon laughed, partially relieved that he wasn’t talking about cheating for real. “I’d never leave any of my friends. I still think about the ones I made back at the Academy and keep them in my prayers.”

  Dowyr nodded. “Me too. Except, no prayers, you know. Just thoughts.”

  “I think that’s good enough.”

  “I guess. But I hope we succeed out here for their sake.”

  One of the soldiers entered and hollered at them to get to their horses and be ready to ride. Weynon jumped up, not quite happy to leave the warmth of the fire, but glad to be on the move again. Every inch forward gave him hope, and he was ready to do his part in ending the war. They would succeed.