That first night, they made camp in a sheltered gully just off the road.Tension hung over the party while guards offloaded the prisoners in pairs–they had needs like everyone else.Bastion kept a hand on his sword, at the ready.A bird called in the distance, the last herald of the day.
When all the prisoners were attended to, Bastion expected things to quiet down.The camp settled, but the prisoners remained on edge as they scanned the landscape with the eyes of prey.
The second day, they passed through a blackened forest.Bastion had seen the frozen corpses of these trees before, but it still disturbed him.They reached for the sky like the hands of drowning men, dead and silent.
That night, Minato brought out his lap harp.Across the fire from him, Rowan touched Ulla’s hand.She cocked her head, as if listening, then arched an eyebrow, but nodded.
With her eyes locked on Minato’s mouth, she signed as he sang.
He first began, as myth records,
Relieving coins from drunken lords
At first just playing, then real preying
As he sought increased rewards
Rowan mimicked her motions as she made them.Ulla smiled and grabbed his hands.Then, she extended her left hand, pressed her fingertips to that palm, and dragged them slowly up her arm.
Bastion swallowed at the sight.
He wanted to touch her skin like that, slow and purposely, skating his fingers over the soft underside of her arms and palms or the pebbled texture of the scales wrapped around her shoulders.The thought burrowed into his mind, leading him to other places he’d like to touch–the curve of her exposed back, the swell of her breasts, or–
A dissonant chord crashed through his thoughts.
Bastion looked up and found Minato glaring at him, nostrils flaring.The tendons of his hands stood out as he clutched his harp.Bastion glanced at Ulla.Her attention remained on Rowan, but her brow had dropped in a scowl.
Heat coursed over Bastion’s neck, and sweat made his clothes clammy.He had no right to be thinking of her that way.
The others gathered around the campfire looked at each other in confusion.Bastion rose, mumbled something about checking on the horses, and walked away.
When Minato began to play again, Bastion couldn’t help but feel like the music was accusatory.
__________
The Ceruliean Cliffs grew ever closer.Beyond their edges, an emerald hue sharpened with every mile, and the perpetually green trees of a primordial forest came into focus.
The Mirrorwood.
When they camped the third night, Bastion and Nesrin told Rowan about it.
“Two centuries ago, the Mirrorwood swallowed the Eastern Road overnight,” he said, hefting Finn’s saddle and placing it on the ground, pommel down.
Rowan ogled him.“Why?”he whispered.
“The history books tell us that when King Dago died, Queen Siya–who legend tells us was a daughter of the forest,” Bastion said, wiggling his eyebrows, “fell into deep depression.The poets say she mourned him as the moon mourns the sun, forever separated.His nephew, Lael, took advantage of her distress and the absence of her sons and stole the crown.He conquered needlessly and taxed his people without mercy.Then, he set his eyes on the Varo Citadel.”
“Why?”Rowan gasped again.
Bastion grinned, pausing a moment to draw out the suspense as he settled on a rock beside Nesrin.He could feel Ulla watching from nearby and had positioned himself so she could read his lips.
“The Varo guard the source of the river, and it’s said their citadel holds untold treasures.It is where many of the royal family are laid to rest.”
“What happened?”the boy whispered.
Nesrin handed Bastion a damp cloth to clean his tack and took up the story.
“One by one, they climbed the cliff road behind the palace until they were amassed outside the Mirrorwood.Lael led them into the forest.After all, it was the fastest route to the Varo Citadel.”
