Page 79 of Stormvein
“Uncertain.” Varam glances toward the fighters closest to them. “After the Glassfall ambush, we couldn’t risk sending messages ahead. Someone there is sending information to the Authority.”
“A traitor.” It’s not a question.
“You’re thinking about going back to Stonehaven.” I step closer, gaze moving between the two men.
It’s Sacha who answers. “We’re not equipped to stay in the wilds. Everyone is exhausted, cold, and hungry. When you planned to rescue me, you didn’t expect to have to spend morethan one day away from Stonehaven. Instead, it’s been almost seven days.”
“ButStonehaven?” I can’t keep the disbelief from my voice.
“Yes.” His response is clipped,final.
“Even knowing someone there sold you out to the Authority?” My stomach twists at the memory of finding him in the cage, almost dead. “Someone who put you through … that?”
“Especiallythen. Better to face enemies directly than to wonder where they hide.”
Varam’s gaze moves between us before he mutters some excuse and backs away, recognizing the start of an argument and clearly wanting no part of it. Everyone else finds sudden interest in their packs or weapons, or reasons to leave the chamber completely. Apparently, I’m the only one stupid enough to argue with their leader.
“You’re using yourself as bait!” I step closer, lowering my voice but not its intensity. “You barelysurvivedbeing rescued. You can’t honestly think walking straight back into that nest of … of …” I don’t know what animals in Meridian I can compare it with. “A nest ofsnakesis the best plan.”
“I’m creating an opportunity.” His voice remains unnervingly calm. “The traitor most likely believes everyone is dead, especially me. My return will force their hand.”
“And then what? You catch them, torture them for information? Is that who you are now?” Did nothing I said last night reach him?
“If that is what’s required.”
“And if they try to kill you? What is supposed to happen? Was I supposed to heal you so you could throw yourself right back into danger? Am I supposed to watch you die again?” The words are out before I can stop them, revealing more of my fear than I wanted.
“I am the Vareth’el, Mel’shira,” he says, like that explains everything. His expression changes for half a second, softening slightly, before returning to its customary mask. “We’re leaving in ten minutes. Make sure you’re ready.”
I want to argue with him more, but what would be the point? The rest of the group is already preparing to leave, their expressions showing complete faith in Sacha.
I glare at him. He ignores me. I take a deep breath, release it, and then change the subject.
“You need shoes. You can’t walk all the way to Stonehaven. The rocky paths will tear your feet to shreds, if they haven’t already.”
“I’ll manage.”
“I didn’t heal you for you to leave more blood all over the mountain.” I look around for my pack, and take out the cloth wraps I’ve carried since the nomads in the desert gave them to me. “These will help.” I practically shove them at him.
His eyebrow quirks up, and his lips twitch. He’s definitely fighting a smile when he looks at me. Apparently, my irritation is amusing, which annoys me even more. But he takes them without argument, surprising me.
“Thank you, Ellie.” There’s an unexpected formality in his tone that somehow makes me want to scream … or throw something … at his head.
When we finally emerge from the underground chambers, the sun has risen. The abandoned stronghold looks even more desolate in daylight—crumbling walls, collapsed roofs, nature reclaiming what men once built. Our small group gathers in what was once the main courtyard.
“It will take two days to reach Stonehaven, if we push,” Sacha tells them. “We should be able to forage for food, and there may be some game we can hunt.”
The path ahead winds through rocky slopes, gradually descending toward forested valleys. Sacha sets a brisk pace, and I find a place in the middle of the group, near Mira, my thoughts circling around what might await at Stonehaven.
Mira touches my arm. “The gods gave us warriors to protect and frustrate us in equal measure,” she says, handing me a waterskin. “Their stubbornness is both their greatest strength and our greatest trial.”
I give her a sideways glance. “Speaking from experience?”
“Many years of it.” She gives me a faint smile. “It’s why my hair has gone gray before its time.”
The day passes in relative silence. We forage as we go—Mira pointing out wild berries, edible roots, whatever the forest has to offer. At high sun, we stop in a small clearing for a short rest. Everyone is hungry and tired, but no one complains.
I’m confident that they would follow him barefoot through fire if he asked.
