Chapter 7
“Is it done?”
Clarke asked the question as soon as she heard the door to Heda’s rooms open. She didn’t need to turn to know it was Angus, since she’d asked the guards posted outside to not let anyone else through. Clarke had wanted time alone to think about her actions, and besides it would not do for people to see the great Wanheda pace back and forth like a caged wolf, fretting and wringing her hands over things she could not control. The blonde had not been surprised at being capable of ordering someone’s death so easily, but the act had taken her back to the dark hours under the Mountain, a time she had hoped to never revisit, save perhaps in nightmares.
“Sha. Thany and the others just came back.”
Clarke simply nodded, eyes glued to the view outside the window - the city beginning to wake, but more importantly the wilderness beyond. She just knew that Lexa was out there, somewhere.
“Indra?” She asked when the silence between them had stretched to the point of becoming painful.
Angus grunted sourly. “We sent her back out with reinforcements under the cover of a supply train. Several were leaving to bring food and medicine to the outer settlements before the Long Frost comes. It didn’t require much effort to rustle up a few extra wagons.”
“The men you sent with her?” Once Indra had stormed off, in evident disagreement with Clarke’s plan for the guards, she had asked Angus to go after her and conceal her departure. Should the General wander around in a huff and be seen by someone in town, their efforts would be vain.
“Good trackers all of them. I couldn’t send too many though,” he grunted again and his voice lowered to a growl, “Heda took plenty of guards up North and if the situation isn’t resolved soon…” he paused, evidently trying to measure his words, “some other clan may try something.”
That had Clarke turn, eyebrows raised.
“You think they will?”
“Masking Indra’s return has bought you a week perhaps, before some of the Ambassadors begin to question the length of Heda’s absence. Rumors will eventually do the rounds no matter what you do.” He spread his hands, as if to underline neither of them could prevent that from happening.
“The least loyal may see as an opportunity to weaken Lexa’s authority here while she is absent. You are that authority Wanheda. Some may try to strike you down.”
“Even if it meant incurring her wrath?”
“If they believed she is dead…” he swallowed and looked away for a moment before continuing, “they may very well take the chance. Some of the clans don’t like you or Skaikru at all.” He patted his sword’s hilt, “I will double the guards, just in case.”
“Sankru…” Clarke mused, the nervousness she had managed to hide in his presence seeping through and causing her to shift her feet. She loathed to admit that Indra had been right, and that killing the Sand Clan’s warrior could very well lead to another war. Angus seemed to read her mind, because he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. “Not only them. The Plains and Greystone clans also. They are the furthest away from Polis’ influence and only joined Lexa’s Coalition because not doing so would have meant annihilation,” she felt his fingers squeeze gently and took a little comfort from his strength. “It is good that you question yourself Wanheda, but the truth is that these clans would seize the smallest opportunity. Sankru can speculate, but there is no proof that your hand is behind the assassinations.”
He took his hand away and gestured to the empty air around them, “their guards simply...vanished. Moving against you without proof would cause other clans to fall behind you in support. Sankru is not much liked at all.”
“So we carry on as usual and wait.” She had never liked to wait, and at times it seemed she had done nothing but wait since her people had come to the ground. Wait for dawn to come, wait for an attack, wait to march on the Mountain.
“I hate it too,” he offered, proving again that he could easily follow her thoughts, like a tracker seeking prey deep in the woods, “but you learn to live with it. The Natblida need you Wanheda. And so does the Coalition.”
Clarke nodded, then ushered him out of her chambers so she could change into the armor Lexa had her artisans craft for her. She wouldn’t have bothered unless there was a formal meeting, but she and Angus had planned to take the Natblida out in the woods around the city to hunt. As her Chief Guard had put it, one never had enough food when faced with the Long Frost. Clarke prepared quickly, fixing the armor in place with practiced motions. She remembered the day Lexa had gifted it to her fondly, relishing the memory of her lover’s fingers brushing against her body as the Commander tightened the armor straps for the first time. The images flew across her mind, edged with sadness and worry, and Clarke finished dressing with a sigh, before taking a quick walk around the room, to make sure that both the Fleimkepa’s journal and the sash that Indra had brought back were properly concealed.
She lit a new candle, leaving it next to the shut window and cursed the tears that for a moment threatened to spill down her cheeks. She knew that such a small flame wouldn’t help guide Lexa home to her faster, yet couldn’t help but find reassurance in the simple gesture.
Clarke tore herself away from the window with an effort, before her eyes had time to linger on the snow-capped mountains far to the North. She could not allow herself to be weak, too much responsibility resting on her shoulders for her to crumble.
She would be strong and wait, and hate every single minute of it.
As it turned out, a trip to the nearby village to find a horse had not been necessary.
Niylah had parted more than willingly with the sturdy mare that occupied the small stable at the back of the trading post. She had waved away Lexa’s promises of payment, providing them with a well-oiled saddle, blankets and supplies that would last them until they reached Polis.
As they left the outpost behind, taking a seldom beaten path that would wind around the village, Lexa thought she’d seen more than a little relief on the trader’s face while she waved them goodbye. She could not find it in herself to fault Niylah for it, not after their heated exchange before sleep. She would make sure to send a gift regardless, nothing that would humiliate the trader by making her feel in debt with her Heda, but an offer of peace if not a request for forgiveness.
Nita was taking the first turn atop the horse, and the girl’s utter stillness told Lexa she still wasn’t happy about the arrangement. They could ride together, but it would tire the mare needlessly and, even though she hoped to be right about the rebel bands they may need to flee at a moment’s notice. It made no sense to burden the horse before they really had to, but Nita had argued that Heda should ride, since she was injured.
She had refused to back down until Lexa had sternly reminded her that a good soldier was supposed to do everything their Heda asked of them. That had quelled resistance, but she knew that behind a pretence of boredom the girl was fiercely sulking. Nita wasn’t good at hiding the sullen glint of her eyes, the fierce light inside them betraying her real emotions in the same way it had always given the child’s mother away.
Lexa sighed, the usual gaping loss she felt whenever thoughts of Anya crossed her mind aching inside her chest. It was a hollowed out part of her that not even Clarke’s love could fill, but perhaps having Nita in Polis would dull the sharp edges of her grief. She truly hoped that Anya would have wanted this for her child, and vowed to be as dutiful a guardian as any Fos. Traditionally Heda never took a Seken, as the sheer status the Commander’s second would acquire on position alone would be seen as favoritism and Lexa tended to agree. But perhaps Angus or another of Clarke’s guards would be willing to consider it, the fact that they had accepted Wanheda as one of their own despite cultural differences a sure sign of open mindedness.
But that was a problem for a different day, Lexa mused, peering up at the sky.
To her relief the snow had stopped falling for the time being and its accumulation on the ground was not enough to hinder them yet. Stretches of terse blue were visible among the drifting clouds, white and fluffy now that they had disgorged their payload.
The Commander however wasn’t fooled.
Frosty wind twisted and howled among the bare trees, causing them to shake and fill the woods with eerie moans and creaks. As it was the case at the beginning of every winter season, long faded scars twinged and oft broken bones ached, and she knew that more snow would come and fall for weeks once the Long Frost arrived in earnest.
Lexa willed herself to move faster, despite the persistent pain scraping along her side. They could be back in Polis in two days if the weather held, and she intended to cover as much ground as possible before nightfall made it to dangerous to continue.
They set a steady, ground-eating pace, Lexa leading the horse at an easy jog while Nita rode, stopping to switch at regular intervals. The Commander would never admit it, but she looked forward to her turns on the mare, her wound paining her more than she had anticipated.
A glimpse of the village, nestled in the valley below them, was the only sign of civilization they encountered after leaving the outpost. Niylah had suggested that Lexa made herself known to the village chief and demand an escort, but the Commander had decided against it. She knew Elder Hadnan well, and he would insist on sending most of his spears with her, but that would leave the small settlement unprotected.
Ontari’s rebels may decide to double back and take their frustration at not being able to track her out on the villagers. Besides Niylah had mentioned wolves and while winter was barely touching the land, Lexa knew the cold season made the beasts more brazen.
They stopped briefly around midday to feed the horse and share a quick lunch of flatbread and blue-veined cheese, crouching close to each other, among a tight copse of firs to shield their bodies from the gusts of freezing air. The gale had brought darker clouds down from the North and the light was the dim one of late afternoon, giving a grey hue to everything.
Neither of them was in the mood for talking, and after licking the last crumbs of bread from her fingers, Lexa stood and stretched, then motioned Nita to climb back on the mare.
Much of their afternoon was spent the same way, riding and walking in turns and even though Lexa had to slow down as the snow beneath her feet turned to ice with the descending temperature, they still covered more than 20 miles.
As evening shadows made their going more difficult, she began to look around for a place where they could camp. These woods were known to her from her days as Anya’s Seken and when a familiar rock formation came into view up ahead, she veered off to the right, towards a place she’d used as camp before.
It was a half crumbled ruin from a time long past, and the people that lived in the area believed it haunted. Lexa knew this was not the case, but the place’s reputation would ensure they would not be disturbed. And there was a spring right on their path, where they could fill their canteens and gather water for tea.
Suddenly the silence became absolute, and the Commander stopped so abruptly that the mare gave a surprised snort and bumped her nose against Lexa’s shoulder.
Her eyes narrowed as she scanned to woods, the deepening darkness making it hard to see more than a hundred paces in each direction. She felt Nita shift in the saddle behind her, and didn’t need to check to know that the girl had raised her bow and nocked an arrow.
Something had scared the forest’s animals away.
The horse snorted again, then gave a small whinny, tossing her head so hard she almost ripped the lead out of Lexa’s hand.
A low, menacing growl filled the air around them, and a slate grey shadow streaked across the path. It was enough to send the horse rearing, and Lexa was almost lifted off her feet, before the mare’s hooves jarringly dropped back to the ground.
The Commander fought to keep the animal under control, then when the mare finally stood still, she scrambled up behind Nita and gathered the reins.
More growls came from the darkness at their backs, and the horse started forward without prompting. Lexa tried to keep the mare to a quick canter, but the animal fought her for control, and soon they were dashing down the snow covered path, the spot she had intended to rest at flashing by.
All she and Nita could do was hold on for dear life, as branches slapped their faces and snatched at their cloaks, threatening to unseat them. Lexa didn’t dare look back, but she could hear the wolf pack giving chase behind them, and it wasn’t ordinary wolves at all.
One of the beasts had managed to leap up beside them, jaws snapping shut inches from one of the horse’s hindquarters and she wished she hadn’t taken such a close look. It was a massive beast, a relentless hunter built for the kill, but mutated to the point it resembled more a monster than a wolf. It had two heads and two tails, and one of its snouts was so crammed with wicked teeth that the animal could not shut it all the way.
It snarled at them, eyes burning red, then threw a muzzle to the sky and let loose a savage howl, promptly answered by a chorus all around them. The mare shook between Lexa’s legs, and the foam from her mouth sprayed back across her flanks. The Commander didn’t know how long the horse could keep going that way and, anticipating that they would have to fight, she bared the sword Niylah had given her.
A hiss cut through the Pack’s slavering growls, and the wolf that had been flanking them stumbled and fell head over heels, a burning arrow stuck into its side. More darts followed and whenever they struck flesh, the wolves’ snarls turned into yelps of pain.
The light of burning torches pushed back the night as riders closed in among the beasts, sword and axes flashing as they descended to cut the wolves down. Lexa sawed the reins viciously, bringing the sword around into a tight arc, to stop one of the beasts from leaping atop a rider’s shoulders.
The clash of steel and claws lasted mere seconds, before the pack melted back into the darkness to seek easier prey, and Lexa lowered her blade a fraction, as their rescuers formed a ring around her flagging horse.
“Heda.”
One of the men dismounted and walked slowly up to the mare’s side, eyeing Nita’s half-drawn bow with a wary eye. Lexa squeezed the girl’s thigh with her free hand and bent forward to whisper in her ear.
“These are my men. It’s alright.”
She had recognized Linus’ gravelly voice and, as a few torchbearers moved forward to afford them some light, she peered down into his face and nodded reassuringly. His features were contorted into a mix of worry and awe and Lexa thanked the stars that he and the ones that had seen her fall into the river had shown enough faith to keep looking for her, even though they must have feared to find her dead, or not at all.
Nita lowered her bow, then laid it across the saddle, but she pressed back into Lexa as Linus reached up to help her down the mare.
“She isn’t used to strangers,” the Commander explained when she saw his puzzled look. The man simply nodded and stepped back, letting the girl drop off the saddle by herself.
Lexa followed, but as soon as her feet touched the ground she swayed and had to grab the saddle for support, cursing softly. She struggled to stop herself from hunching over in pain, and hid a grimace against the mare’s flank, but Linus had seen her falter and she heard him issue a string of orders to the warriors around them.
“Je’saris isn’t much of a healer, but she knows a little about field medicine,” he whispered, the question clear in his eyes and when Lexa nodded, he beckoned the warrior over. They followed him as he made way through the trees, Nita walking so close behind Heda that she was stepping on the Commander’s shadow.
The warriors around them quickly organized a camp and erected a small tent for her. Lexa pushed Nita inside first, then motioned for Je’saris to enter as well.
The woman gave a curious look to Nita, who had pulled her scarf so high over her face that only her eyes were visible under her hood, but she refrained from commenting. Lexa was relieved as she didn’t think she would have the energy to explain.
Obeying Je’saris instructions, Lexa removed her cloak and unbuckled the chest piece of her armor, allowing the warrior to lift her shirt and strip away the makeshift bandages. Flakes of dried blood came away with the cloth, and she grimaces as they pulled at her chafed skin. Je’saris used water from her canteen to clean the cut, then applied a layer of salve over it, so cold it sent Lexa’s teeth chattering.
Once done, Je’saris bowed and left with a murmured Heda, Linus immediately taking her place.
“Brief me.” The Commander ordered, tugging her shirt down.
He cleared his throat, eyes purposefully averted while she redressed.
“We had been looking for you since the ambush. Indra went to Polis...she...we... “ he stammered and his hands clenched into fists, “she’d ordered us to keep looking but she thought…”
“Speak plainly, Linus.”
“She believed you couldn’t survive such a fall..none of us did even though we all hoped as we searched. Wanheda had to be informed.”
The sliver of lead that had settled into her stomach grew to a fist-sized weight and Lexa drew a shaky breath. The implications of Linus’ words made Lexa want to vomit.
Oh, Clarke…
It was late afternoon when Angus called a halt to the hunt by bringing a copper banded warhorn to his lips and blowing three shorts burst to signal the hunting parties. Clarke and Aden who had teamed up with him, took the chance to rest while they waited for the rest of the Natblida and Trikru warriors to regroup.
Between the three of them they had brought down two deers and a few rabbits, leaving them for the gatherers that followed a few hundred paces back. Clarke had been delighted to find out she was much better with the bow than the quarterstaff, landing the killing shot on one of the deers and at least three of the rabbits.
Angus had explained that nothing of the carcasses would be wasted, and that the meat would be smoked and salted then taken to the communal supplies’ stores so that the people that were too old to hunt, or those families whose hunters had been lost to war or ripas wouldn’t starve during the long winter.
Clarke hated that the Mountain still affected people’s lives, but she knew that the wickedness of the Maunon would still haunt the clans for at least a generation. Another of those things she would just have to wait on to see change, she thought wryly.
A piercing scream broke the quiet, causing a couple of nearby pheasants to take to the air in a flurry of panicked wings.
Before Angus or Aden could react, Clarke was on her feet, racing headlong towards the noise. The voice belonged to someone young, and she feared that one of the Natblida had been hurt.
She burst into a small clearing and skidded to a stop, almost falling back onto her ass as her feet found a patch of slippery moss. Aden and Angus crashed through the bushes next to her and the three of them stared down the irregular hole that had appeared on the forest’s floor.
“Help!” A voice called from below, followed by a groan of pain.
Clarke knelt at the edge of the hole to see better, and was met with the wide-eyed gaze of one of the children, who was sprawled at the bottom.
Pointy wooden poles jutted upwards, but in a stroke of luck the kid had been pierced by just one at the end of the fall.
“Stay still…” she trailed off, glancing towards Aden, failing to remember the Natblida’s name in the heat of the moment.
“Lysen.” he whispered helpfully. Clarke could see the worry on his face, but was impressed at the way he just waited for her directions without succumbing to panic.
“Ok, Lysen!” She turned her attention back to the kid at the bottom of the hole, “hold on we gonna get you out!”
“Sha, Wanheda,” bright eyes full of intelligence blinked up at her and the Initiate nodded bravely. Clarke judged that Aden and Lysen were perhaps the oldest among the Natblida, yet they were barely teens. If she had fallen down a hole and a jagged piece of wood was piercing her thigh she would be thrashing around in blind fear and probably making it worse.
“Is this a bear trap?” She asked Angus, as more men emerged from the forest around them.
“No,” the warrior spit on the ground in distaste, “this is older. From when the clans were still at war I think,” he pointed to a gnarled oak at the edge of the clearing, “see there? Old Trikru markings.”
“I didn’t see them, I swear” Lysen’s voice, cracked with agony, drifted up to them.
Angus grunted and Clarke had a feeling once the kid was out of danger all of the Natblidas would get a lesson on watching where they were putting their feet. It would be funny if she didn’t know the child was hurt.
One of the youngest warriors had wound a rope around his waist, and another tightened the other end around a tree trunk. Thus secured, the warrior quickly lowered himself into the hole, which was thankfully big enough to let him stand on a clear spot next to the injured Initiate.
“The leg is run through!” He called upwards, finding Clarke’s gaze. They all knew she was a healer, and he was clearly waiting for her to tell him how to move the kid.
“Is there a lot of blood?” She asked, fearing an affirmative answer.
“No. Not much at all.”
Clarke sighed in relief, shoulders sagging forward. “No main artery was struck,” she explained when Angus raised an eyebrow at her. She chewed her lip pensively, then asked, “how deep do the poles run?”
“You want to dig it up?” Angus replied, scratching his beard.
Clarke nodded. “It would be best to remove it at the Tower. Nyko has better tools there.”
“Alright.” Angus agreed, then began to shout orders.
The man that had climbed down the hole, knelt next to the child, digging around the pole with his bare hands. After a few minutes he screamed in triumph then, as another threw more ropes down, secured the Natblida around the waist.
The clearing was a flurry of activity and, after a lot of cursing, the Initiate was recovered and laid gently onto a stretcher. Clarke ran her fingers along the child’s thigh to assess the damage and the youth groaned, swearing softly.
“Skrish.”
“Easy there,” Clarke soothed, “I know it hurts but Heda wouldn’t be happy to hear you speak like that.”
The youth nodded weakly and she smiled softly, brushing a lock of unruly curls back from a sweaty brow. She took off her cloak and draped it over the Initiate to stave off the cold, then two warriors lifted the stretcher between them and they all hurried back towards Polis. Thanks to the spirits they were not that deep into the forest.
Clarke spent the trek back at Lysen’s side, murmuring gently whenever the youth whimpered in pain. Her chest swelled with pride at the strength the Natblida displayed and the blonde decided that if someone so young could be so fearless, so could she.
She was tired of running, tired of waking in the middle of the night bathed in cold sweat. She would face her demons, and once Lysen had been taken care of, she would take the stairs that led to the bowels of the Commander’s Tower and confront Titus.
She would keep the Flame alive for Lexa, no matter the cost.