Page 107 of Blade of Secrets (Bladesmith 1)

I wish I could separate myself from the fear, to learn who I truly am.

CHAPTER

TWENTY

When Kellyn announces that we’ve arrived at the village, I’m confused. The landscape looks exactly the same as it has for the last week or so. Beautiful forest country. Wild greenery. Small mammals and birds.

But then Kellyn points to something.

A fence post.

And farther ahead, horses grazing.

Kellyn mentioned that the village consisted of nothing but farming families, but I hadn’t quite imagined this. Log cabin–style homes, acres and acres between lots. Trees in every yard. Children playing outdoors. Men and women working with plows and hoes on their land.

Everyone wants to talk. Kellyn is easily recognized, and he takes the time to converse briefly with his neighbors.

After the fourth visit, I whisper harshly, “Isn’t it better if no one knows you’re visiting?”

“Who are they going to tell? Most of the people here have never left the village. They’ll live their whole lives here and die here.”

That silences me. For now.

When Kellyn says we’re nearing his family’s home, he adds, “Please don’t say anything about our troubles. I don’t want to worry them. You’re all friends I’m bringing home for a visit.”

“Do you usually bring friends over for a visit?” Petrik asks.

“No.”

“Then I’m sure this will go splendidly.”

Before the mercenary can respond, a shout of “Kellyn!” reaches us in a birdlike tone.

“Look, it’s him!”

“Kellyn’s home!”

And then a group of children are rushing him. He holds out his arms, captures all four of them, and then pretends to fall over from the force of their hug.

“We missed you!”

“Did you bring us presents?”

He rights himself and the children, before ruffling the nearest boy’s hair. “No presents this time, but I did bring some friends for you to meet.”

Three boys and a girl turn their bright eyes to us.

“Right, introductions,” he adds. “Ziva, Temra, Petrik, let me introduce you to Tias, age seven; Rallon, age nine; Wardra, age ten; and Kyren, age eleven.”

“I’m seven and a half,” the youngest boy argues.

“My mistake! How could I forget that half a year?”

“Because you’ve been gone too long,” the girl, Wardra, whines.

“I know. I’ve been working,” he says.

“Can I hold your sword?” Kyren asks.

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