(Chapter 10: The Moors II)

  Ean was surprised when Flora walked with him the next morning. She pointed out a couple of flowers that were pretty, a couple that could be brewed into tea, and one that was poisonous. She talked about missing the library in Balucia and sitting by the fire with a stack of books. She stopped to snag a few leaves from an ugly sort of vine—they were good at reducing inflammation. He didn’t say much back, but he appreciated the conversation. It made the time pass faster than when he walked alone.

  She fell silent after a while. The sun was starting to beat down in earnest, but a cool wind drifted in from the north. That, along with the shade from the trees, kept the temperature from getting uncomfortable.

  “I’m sorry about the other night,” she said suddenly. “I know that you saved my life, and I know that those villagers were trying to kill us. I’m not ungrateful to you. Truly, I’m not. I don’t know why I said those things.”

  Ean shrugged a shoulder. “Not as if you said anything untrue.”

  “Just because it’s true doesn’t make it kind. And I don’t want to be unkind to you. Not when we’re… well, friends?” She said it like a question.

  “You don’t have to be my friend,” he told her. “Not many people like to associate with shadow-walkers. I won’t be offended if that’s what you decide.”

  “I do want to be your friend. I… well, wanted to make sure that I wasn’t presuming, seeing as I was so rude to you the other night. It’s only that… I’ve never been in a battle before, and I’ve never seen people die like that. I mean, I’ve seen people die, but mainly in the healing houses when they’re old or sick or injured. Not like… not like the village.”

  Her trail of thought was scattered, but Ean knew what she was trying to say, even if he didn’t believe her. “The violence scared you.”

  “Yes,” she said quickly, seizing on the excuse.

  He looked over at her. “Liar.”

  She startled for a moment, eyes wide.

  “You weren’t scared of the battle,” Ean said. “You were scared of me.”

  She glanced away for a moment, then nodded and confessed, “Yes, you scared me. When you ran into the tavern, I thought you were there to kill me.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Ean said, rather lamely. He wished he could find better words to reassure her because he did want her friendship, or at the very least, some companionship. It was lonely walking alone.

  She gave him a wry smile. “It would be rather hard to be friends with you if you did kill me.”

  Ean laughed. She did too.

  Up ahead, the others stopped at the edge of the forest.

  “Come on,” Roarke called, waving his hand. “We’ve reached the borderlands.”

  He and Flora quickened their pace. They joined the party at the tree line and gazed out at the land before them—a great expanse of open hills covered in swaths of brown and green grass. Ean could see spikes of gray where stone erupted from the earth in jagged peaks. He saw no forests or woods, just the hills, and above them, wide-open sky.

  “This used to be the border of Nor’dell and Bormoor,” Roarke said. “After the Dragon War, it fell to the Wildmen. There are some who still live here as free folk. They’re known to be friendly, but there aren’t many of them left. We’ll want to be on our guard.”

  The others nodded and followed him as he started down the hill. Ean stood a moment longer to take in the view. He’d heard the moors described before, in verse and prose, but seeing them now, he understood why they garnered so much attention. The wind shrieked up and over the hills, carrying the scent of peat and heather. It tugged at his clothes and hair. In the sky, large, billowing clouds chased each other, their shadows casting a similar hunt on the hills. He breathed in deep, feeling the call of the wind. The Air dances had always been his favorite.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  He jogged to catch up with group. The sun was hot against his face, but the wind had a bite of frost. It ruffled the grass like ripples on a lake and made the small, scrubby trees shudder in place. He gave into temptation and slipped off his pack. He tied it to one of the ponies and began running, picking up speed, feeling the wind urge him on. He launched into a tumbling pass—two front handsprings, twisted aerial, thunder kick, flip, and pike. The grass was soft and springy beneath his feet. The slight decline of the hill meant it was easy to keep momentum going. He started another pass.

  The Air dances had all the best steps, full of flips, spins, and leaps. It felt free like the wind, unchained, untethered. Ungrounded, Felix would say with a frown. He preferred the Earth dances, solid and planted, but Ean had always liked the feel of flying.

  It was only possible to flip and tumble for so long, and then the exertion caught up with him in the form of ragged breaths and over-taxed muscles. He stripped off his jacket and dropped onto a nearby boulder to wait for the others. He’d outpaced them by a considerable distance.

  “Having fun?” Asali asked as she passed, her eyebrows raised at his antics. She wasn’t the only one looking at him strangely, but Ean couldn’t bring himself to care.

  Roarke stopped the party early that night to set up the tent. It was the first time they’d needed it since leaving Northpoint. Ean took one look at the number of interlocking rods and folded tarps and volunteered to collect firewood. There wasn’t much on the moor. He returned an hour later with an armful of bramble. The tent was still puddled on the ground.

  “You must not have grabbed all the pieces,” Chadwick told Asali.

  “I got it all,” Asali said, a bite to her words.

  “Let’s figure out what it’s supposed to look like before we put it together,” Leo said. “I think it’s supposed to be more of this shape.” He bent down to draw a form in the dirt.

  “What is that supposed to be?” Chadwick asked.

  “The tent,” Leo said, frustration bleeding into his words. “If it’s more of a flat roof—,”

  “I already said it wasn’t going to be a flat roof. It wouldn’t work in these winds.”

  “You keep trying to build it the same way each time,” Asali said. “Obviously you don’t have it right either.”

  “Because we must be missing some pieces.”

  “We’re not missing anything!”

  “I’ll double check the bags,” Flora said, trying to placate them.

  “Why don’t we have dinner and try again later,” said Roarke.

  “Any later and it’s going to be nightfall,” Chadwick snapped. “Everyone go and let me think in peace.”

  Asali threw up her hands and walked away. Leo hesitated, torn between his two friends. Roarke finally shooed him away.

  Ean took the opportunity to work through the Air dances, starting with Wind and Whirlwind. Asali watched him. He slowed as he transitioned into Cloud Dance, a silent invitation for her to join in. She hesitated a moment, but then got up and began mimicking his movements. She had the grace for shadow-walking but the horrible stance of a well-trained soldier. He corrected a few of her postures. She followed his directions easily but got distracted when Flora decided it was a good time to do some mending and took Leo’s shirt right off his back. Ean used the distraction to trip her up and laughed. She got angry, lunged at him, and they had a friendly spar on the grass. She got him on the ground twice and then showed him how to slip out of a chokehold without gouging out his opponent’s eye. It was odd, learning non-lethal methods of combat, but knowledge should never be refused. Felix had taught him that.

  Leo smiled at him when they settled back at the campfire. “How many different—” he stopped and made a twirling gesture, “do you know?”

  “Shadow-dances,” Ean supplied. “There are twenty-four dances total, but each dance has different variations, the main variations being with weapons or without.”

  “How long did it take to learn them?”

  “I was proficient after eight years.” Ean pointed to the braids at his temple. “But true mastery of the dances can take decades.” He pointed out his single mastery braid. “I’ve mastered one partnership so far, Storm and Lightning.”

  “That sounds impressive.”

  Ean shrugged the compliment away even though it stoked his pride. “I trained every day for eight hours. Pretty sure anyone would learn them after that.”

  “Eight hours?”

  “You’re a prince. Don’t tell me you weren’t trained for longer.”

  Leo frowned. “Well, I suppose.”

  “He’s being modest,” Asali said. “How many topics did you have to study? Government and law, economics, mathematics, history, diplomacy, languages, music and literature.”

  “Not all at the same time,” Leo said.

  Ean grimaced. “I should hope not. It sounds horrible.”

  “The teachers were nice,” said Leo. And then he paused, like he’d just told a lie.

  “You sure learned diplomacy,” Ean said.

  Asali laughed.

  A few paces away, Chadwick scowled as he struggled with the tent, but by the time the sun set, he had it standing.