Dowyr stared at Weynon who laid unconscious across his saddle, only sparing a glance for Elethe who rode next to him. She stared just as intently at the boy.

  “I know Sirona said he’s fine, but…” She shook her head. “He’s not. I felt it; before he froze everyone, something inside him broke. Went berserk. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  Dowyr shifted uncomfortably. “Is it why he passed out?”

  “No, he channeled so much so quickly it burned him out in an instant. When I turned to see what he was doing, it looked like he was trying to channel as much as a Class 4 could. He wasn’t just channeling Peace. There was Sadness and Fear in it too. Just enough to stop everyone in their tracks. Everything he could take from nature.”

  Dowyr grimaced, wondering what had caused his friend to lash out like that. Weynon had been so cold towards fighting before. Had seeing the ambush struck him differently?

  “Do you think we should get a copy of The Five Sentinels to wave in front of his nose?” Elethe asked, almost half-serious by her tone.

  Dowyr grunted. “Not really a good time for a joke. That also wasn’t very funny.”

  She pursed her lips. “Sorry… Just wanted to try lightening the mood. Obviously not very good at it. I’ll just go.”

  He stared after her as she prompted her horse forward. That had been unusual of her, even for how strange she’d been back at the Academy. What was her deal trying to make a joke like that at a time like this?

  Dismissing it as a bizarre mood swing, he looked around at the other soldiers, who weren’t in the best of spirits. They’d lost friends today. Sirona had been able to save a couple archers, but the platoon’s numbers had been cut in half. A crippling blow. Some of the dead had even played a few games of Kings with Dowyr.

  Don’t get attached, he thought to himself. Don’t remember their faces.

  After the battle had finished, they gave everyone a proper burial and ceremony, even the Kircans. They left nothing to mark their graves. Garec wanted to leave no trace of their passing, and even had Donnan do what he could to collapse the holes he had phased into the earth.

  There still weren’t enough Kircan uniforms for the whole Company to infiltrate Norwood, but Garec decided there was no need for everyone to enter Norwood. A small group would have to be enough while the rest of the Company hid nearby.

  He came riding up and stopped beside Dowyr, giving Weynon a worried look.

  “I feel like I’ve been neglecting you boys too much,” Garec said. “I could have prevented this.”

  “He’ll be okay,” Dowyr channeled, hoping he sounded confident.

  “Physically, yes, but… I’ve heard people scream like that before. Immediately come tell me the second he wakes up.”

  Dowyr nodded.

  “Good. Are you doing alright?”

  He shrugged. “I’m fine.”

  Garec gave him a skeptical look. “You’re free to speak your mind with me, you know. This isn’t the orphanage or the Academy where you had to suck it up and guard your words. I can’t be as much help if you keep things from me, even things you think I don’t want to hear.”

  “I don’t want you to worry about me, I can take care of myself.”

  Garec placed a hand on Dowyr’s shoulder, making him flinch. “You can, and you also can’t. Perhaps you think you know it all, and, to your credit, you probably do know more than I ever will. But all the books on Earth can never prepare you for the real world. Words on parchment can be beautiful, full of ideas, wisdom, and knowledge, but they inhabit a world purely in here.” Garec touched his forehead. “They are not a replacement for the real thing. A painting of a rose is lovely to look at; a real rose has thorns.”

  Dowyr nodded irritably. “I know that. You can spare me the lecture. I’ve seen enough of the world to understand its realness. I don’t like it, and never want to. The only thing I care about is helping to end the war and making sure Weynon comes out alive, even if it means I don’t. So don’t worry about me.”

  “I intend for you both to come out alive. For all of us, if I can help it. From here on, we’re avoiding fights as much as possible. I’ll need you for that. With your talents, we can trick enemy officers into believing anything. But I need you in your right head. Whatever you need, tell me, or Donnan. I don’t want to figure it out by what Elethe might tell me.”

  Dowyr sighed. “Okay. I will.”

  Garec gave a nod. “Good. Don’t forget to tell me when he wakes up.” He kicked his horse forward and blended back into the Company.

  Dowyr scanned the horizon looking for something else to occupy his mind and spotted a group of wolves in the distance. They appeared to be following the Company, watching them. Watching him, it seemed. Weynon. They must have felt him during the battle, or perhaps they had something to tell him.

  Wolves are cool, but please stay away until Weynon wakes up, he thought at them.

  He and other soldiers noticed the wolves through the day’s travels, and thankfully they kept their distance. Garec looked more and more anxious for Weynon to wake up and often checked on him.

  “I need to know if they have something important to tell us,” he muttered.

  Weynon remained unconscious for the rest of the day, however. When it was time to set up camp, Donnan came to help bring Weynon over to a sleeping mat beside a warm fire. Dowyr sat on a folding stool close by to warm his hands and keep an eye on him.

  “I’m worried he won’t wake up,” Dowyr channeled.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  “He will,” Donnan said, starting to set up Weynon’s tent. “Always hard te tell how long with burnouts. Perhaps not tonight, but he will. Be sure te get him something te eat and drink when he does, he’ll need it.”

  Dowyr nodded and took his sketchbook and charcoal out of his saddlebag. He let his hand wander, drawing whatever came to mind. It had become something of an evening ritual, something that could help take his mind off the day’s events. Most of his sketches were trees or the western mountain range, an occasional flower. Things that reminded him of living in Elyssanar. Tonight he decided to try sketching some people. The Sisters at the orphanage, the other orphans, street vendors he often passed by, the old geezers he used to play Kings with. They came easily, line after line. He began a new sketch of someone, not knowing who. His mind meandered, visiting the few memories he was fond of. Watching birds by the river, reading a gripping tale at the library, good days at the Academy, exercising his Emogic on Elethe.

  “Watcha drawing?” a voice asked, making him jump.

  Dowyr glanced back at Elethe, who stood looking over his shoulder with a curious expression. He finally noticed that he’d been sketching a picture of her sitting on a desk at the Academy and quickly turned the page.

  “I didn’t know you drew people so well.”

  “Haven’t tried to before,” he channeled.

  Elethe brought a stool over and sat next to him. “Can I see?”

  Dowyr reluctantly handed her the sketchbook. It wasn’t like there was anything he could hide from her unless he decided to forego channeling completely.

  She flipped back to the sketch of her and gave it an appraising look, then went through the other pages. “I like them. People from the orphanage, right?”

  Dowyr nodded.

  “They all look rather sad.”

  “It was a rather sad place.”

  “Yeah. I imagine most orphanages are. You must’ve been glad to end up at the Academy.”

  “I suppose. I think I got lucky with having Weynon as a roommate. Don’t know how I’d have endured it otherwise.”

  “I’m surprised you get along so well. And at the same time, I’m not, if that makes sense.”

  Dowyr gave her a curious look. “Why would you be surprised?”

  “Well, you’re like polar opposites, religiously speaking, and obviously that’s never gone over well for you.”

  “Why does that have to be the basis for me getting along with someone? Weynon’s my friend because he cares about me as I am instead of trying to make me change like everyone else does.”

  “Hey, I haven’t tried to do that either.”

  “What, helping kidnap me doesn’t count?”

  Elethe grimaced. “It… that’s not the same.”

  “That’s fair. I guess you haven’t really tried to change me, even knowing… what you know. Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. Seriously.” Elethe cleared her throat and handed back the sketchbook. “Thank you for sharing.”

  She stood up and walked away. Donnan finished putting up Weynon’s tent and came to warm his hands at the fire.

  “Won’t ever get used te people talking to themselves around ye,” he said.

  Dowyr snorted. “It’s exhausting to channel to everyone within hearing distance.”

  “I know. Best te keep up yer strength. Anyway, I’m going te put Weynon inside. Ye having yer tent put up here too?”

  He nodded and put his sketchpad away. “I’ll go get it.”

  *

  Weynon awoke to something brushing against his cheek. He tried swatting it away, but his hand touched nothing. Something in the darkness snorted. He opened his eyes and sat up to find the silhouette of a wolf standing at the entrance of his tent, eyes glowing a faint yellow.

  He wanted to yell, to jump up and run, but the wolf’s gaze had frozen him in place. The wolf tilted its head and sat down, as if waiting.

  Calm down, calm down, Weynon thought. It’s not going to hurt me. Why do I feel so exhausted? What happened?

  He tried his best to ignore the wolf and thought back to the last thing he remembered. The ambush, the screaming Kircans, then nothing. Had they all been killed?

  No… no, no, no, no. They were running away, they were calling out…

  He froze again as the wolf stirred. It moved closer and licked his hand, then looked at him. He took a deep breath and channeled a small stream of his Emogic out. Something felt unusual with his channeling, for so little Emogic. He directed it to the wolf.

  Hello, Weynon sent.

  Little Rider, the wolf sent. I am Thunder. I and my pack have followed you two legs since we heard your call, but you did not call again.

  I don’t remember calling you.

  Thunder sent back confusion. But you did, a call of distress. Are you not distressed?

  I… think I am. I don’t know. You should leave. If the others see you, they might think you’re attacking me.

  But you are an Earthbrother, and my pack was seen by the other two legs. They did not attack, and we did not smell intent to kill. You hunt Earth Slayer. Is he what causes you distress?

  Weynon was unsure how to respond. Words weren’t coming to him, so he sent a mix of feelings instead. Worry about the people Royce was hurting and the need to stop him, but focusing more on the pain and regret of the slain Kircans that were fleeing the ambush.

  Thunder had sat back down while he was piecing together what he felt. You are distressed by killing your prey?

  Weynon shook his head. They weren’t my prey.

  Then they were your predators, and yet you live, and they do not. That is good.

  “No!” Weynon said, and he jumped at the sound of his voice.

  He heard rustling from nearby tents and the sound of someone running over.

  Dowyr’s voice rang in his head, are you awake, Weynon?

  Weynon could tell it was a telepathy link and sent back, yes, I’m fine.

  There’s a wolf in your head.

  Thunder looked to one side of the tent. There is another two legs voice in your head. Is it a predator?

  What in Hell’s name was that? Dowyr sent.

  Weynon was starting to get dizzy, unsure which voice to respond to. You need to go back to your pack now, he sent to Thunder. I’ll make sure no one attacks you.

  He could hear Dowyr getting up and decided to go out as well. Wait here until I say, he sent to Thunder, then stepped outside his tent and into dim firelight. As he did, both Dowyr and two soldiers appeared, all worried looks.

  “I’m fine,” Weynon said softly. “There’s a wolf in my tent, but he’s a… friend. He only wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  Dowyr took a step back from the tent, while the soldiers gave it a sharp look. More soldiers were coming out of their tents. Elethe and Garec both appeared, the latter walking directly up to him.

  Before he said anything, Weynon heard Thunder make a low growl. All eyes went to the tent, and everyone became tense.

  “He won’t hurt anyone,” Weynon said. “Just let him go back to his pack safely.”

  “Did he tell you anything about Royce?” Garec asked.

  “No… I don’t think they know where he is yet.”

  Garec nodded and waved away his men, who all returned to their tents. Dowyr and Elethe remained.

  “You can let your friend return.”

  Weynon channeled to Thunder and sent, you can come out and go now.

  Thunder came out of the tent slowly, looking between all of them, but Garec most of all. Dowyr and Elethe backed away a few steps, gaping at the wolf. Weynon finally realized how big he was and took a step back himself.

  Shadowwalker stirs, Thunder sent. Be wary, Little Rider.

  Then he ran off into the night.

  Weynon released his channeling and let out a yawn.

  “Are you alright?” Garec asked.

  “I’m okay,” Weynon said. “Tired. Head feels heavy. Hard to think.”

  “Do you remember what happened yesterday?”

  Weynon grimaced. “Yes. I don’t want to think about it.”

  Garec nodded. “Yes, not right now. Best we all get back to sleep. Another long day ahead of us.”

  “I understand what you’re going through,” Elethe said. “We’re all here for you. It gets better, somewhat.”

  Weynon nodded lethargically. “Anything is possible with Heaven. Goodnight.”

  Before Weynon was able to enter his tent, Dowyr walked up and grabbed his shoulder.

  “If you need anything, wake me up. Whatever it is.”

  Weynon gave him a thumbs-up and went inside his tent. He shivered as he climbed back into his blankets that had already gotten cold. Settling himself into a comfortable position, or at least as comfortable as he could get on the lumpy ground, he closed his eyes. Then the screams of dying Kircans began to ring in his ears.

  They wouldn’t stop.