“But,” the reluctance in Keir’s voice was clear. “But maybe my greatest enemy is my hatred, that blinds me to the truth.” He looked over at Joden, clearly seeking reassurance.
Joden hesitated, then shrugged.
“There is truth in that, friend.” Keir grimaced. “And ‘wait and see’ seems to be the only option.” He leaned forward to remove the bells. “Come. I feel the need to be with Lara this night.”
“She never oncecomplains,” Marcus said quietly over the dying campfire.
The others had all bedded down for the night, leaving Joden and Marcus alone by the fire. Joden lifted an eyebrow.
Marcus jerked his chin toward the tents. “Anna. Poor lady is uncomfortable, unhappy, and as miserable as a person can be. But she never once has made a complaint, or said a word of her suffering.” Marcus shot Joden a look, a glint of humor in his one eye. “Even Herself complained on that first journey.”
Joden smiled at the memory.
Marcus continued, “Odd how even city-dwellers find the strength to endure when they act out of love.”
Joden blinked, glanced at Marcus and then just as quickly decided to poke the coals with a handy stick. Marcus had a temper and he was known for his sharp tongue and sharper daggers. Silence was the best option.
Marcus must have caught the look, because he glowered. “I know what you are thinking,” he growled.
Joden shrugged.
“You are thinking of Liam of the Deer.” Marcus stated flatly. “I know full well he holds the border for the Warlord, and I know full well he is at the keep we are heading to.” Marcus stood up. “I will not see him, will not speak to him. Our bonding severed when my ear melted away, and it is past time the damn fool saw the truth.”
With that, Marcus stomped away, and disappeared behind the tents, where he had placed his pallet.
Joden gave the coals another poke, and wondered how long Marcus could fight against his own truth.
Prest appeared thenext morning before the kavage was even hot. “My forward scouts have reported,” he said as he slid from his saddle. “Wellspring is a day’s march.”
Wellspring. Joden felt his heart turn over in his chest.
The plague village.
Chapter Thirty-Three
The stone well was all that remained of Wellspring.
Joden walked beside Lara and Keir as they slowly approached the place where the village had stood. The field was covered in thick green plants with purple flowers on tall stalks. The air was filled with their perfume. No trace was left of the pyres of the dead that had covered the area, or the smoke that filled the air. No trace, except in their memories.
“We didn’t stop here on our way to Xy,” Lara said.
“You were asleep in my arms,” Keir said. “We rode past. I saw no reason to wake you.”
Lara frowned, running her fingers over a few flowers. “I don’t remember this lavender being here before. But we were here later in the year.”
Keir stood next to the well, his jaw clenched, a muscle pulsing in his cheek. He reached out to Lara. She reached back, and stepped closer to hug him and bury her face in his chest.
“S-s-safe?” Joden had to ask.
“Yes,” Lara lifted her head to face him. “As far as I know.”
“D-d-disrespectful?” Joden asked again, gesturing to the area around them. “T-t-to c-c-camp h-h-here?”
“No,” Lara said, but her voice held doubt. “But the memories…” her voice trailed off.
“We will march on,” Keir said. “Our dead are beyond the snows, and in the stars. But the living carry burdens of pain and sorrow. Joden, I would ask that you sing for our dead this evening. After we make camp.”
Joden reached out and touched the stone of the well. It felt cold and rough under his fingers. He found himself nodding yes before he could really think about it.
