Page 37 of The Source of Storms

The genuine hurt in his eyes as my thoughtless retort struck home was far deeper than I’d expected.

“And what exactly did you think about me,” he asked, “that was a lie?"

“I thought… I didn’t think you were in the Ironguard,” I said, but I realized I had never known what his job was.

“You never thought to ask, though, did you?” he said.

“I shouldn’t have needed to! How am I supposed to trust you? You and Eilith aren’t even who you said you were.”

“Don’t say that. We never said we were anything other than what we are. We just didn’t tell you until we thought you were ready.”

“Well, am I ready now?” I snapped back.

“At least let me bandage you,” he diverted, his voice calm and steady.

“No! I’m going to rinse off.” I grabbed the shirt I had just removed and stormed away toward the river.

I caught my reflection in a calm eddy downstream of a small gravel beach. My face was coated in blood, my black eyes shining through it like some visage from a nightmare. Vardir guarded me from the bank as I pulled off my boots, pants, and underwear before wading in, still wearing my blood-spattered shirt.

The cold bit, and my legs ached in seconds. I pulled in a deep breath and submerged myself. I scrubbed quickly at my face and hair for as long as I could stay under, head pounding with the freezing water. Then I stood and peeled the soaked shirt from me. I watched the cloud of red drift away in the current.

And I sobbed.

Tears ran down my face as I stumbled from the river on numb feet, shivering violently. Byrgir was right. I could have asked him, taken more of an interest in his life. I could’ve pushed for answers that morning after Litha. I had been too occupied with my own life to consider his. It wasn’t only his fault I was in the dark. It was my own as well.

I fumbled with my clothes. My pants were blood-spattered, and some had landed on my boots as well, but I had nothing else. I tugged them on, followed by the dry shirt and boots, and climbed the bank toward camp, drawn by the promise of a hot fire and warm food.

The bodies were gone when I returned to the clearing. As I approached, Byrgir stood from his place by the fire, unrolled a clean bandage, tore it to length, doubled it, and held it up to me.

“May I?” he asked. He was expecting me to snap again, but did not seem afraid to face it. I nodded in answer, pulling my wet hair free from my neck and lifting my chin.

Byrgir wrapped the bandage gently around my neck. His hands were steady even as my own shook. I stood still, feeling every bit the petulant child who had just thrown a tantrum. I didn’t know if the cut even needed a bandage, but I didn’t want to deny him the kindness he offered.

“I’m truly sorry.” His low voice broke the silence, warm and quiet in his proximity to me. “I misjudged this, and I made a mistake. And I hate that it got you hurt.”

“I’m hardly hurt.”

“Any drop of your blood spilled is too much. It was reckless. I should’ve told you.”

“You did what you needed to do,” I said. I was touched that my outburst had affected him this deeply, and while I felt guilty for it, I savored that he cared.

“For what it’s worth, you’re not a child, Halja. You’re not useless, and you don’t deserve to be in the dark. I’ll tell you what I know, and I’ll keep you in the loop from now on. I should have told you everything all along, I had no real reason to hide it from you. I just didn’t want you to get hurt. I thought if you got involved in it all, you’d only be in danger. But here you are, involved in it anyway.”

He tied the ends of the bandage around the back of my neck, cinching it tight enough that it would not slide, but not too tight. He adjusted the linen, straightening it, his fingertips lingered on my skin.

“But if you want to feel more effective,” he continued, “I can teach you to fight.”

His hands dropped from my neck and I stood, creating distance between us again, still vexed. But I nodded. He made it quite difficult to stay angry with him.

∞∞∞

Our first lesson began the next day. We had stopped to let the horses graze on the tiny green shoots emerging from barepatches of ground amongst the snow. Byrgir began with the basics as I chewed dried apples.

“In any fight, you need to gain a good understanding of your opponent, and you need to gain it fast. You’ll have seconds to assess them, if that. Who you’re up against, and what weapons they have, will determine how you approach the fight, or if you do at all.” He put a handful of nuts in his mouth and spoke through them. “Now, for you specifically, most opponents will be bigger than you. Their reach, whether with a blade or their fists, will be longer than yours.”

Byrgir stood and drew his longsword. He stepped toward me and held it out, pointing it at my chest so the tip nearly touched my cloak.

“See how far from you I still am?” he asked. He was right: With his height and reach, and the length of blade he was able to wield, he’d get to me long before I ever got a strike on him.

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