Chapter 14: Terra

Martin doesn’t reply, and that’s my answer. If my mother was right, and if my father hasn’t changed his mind about protecting me, reaching him is my best hope at keeping the troupe from harm. Last night they decided to risk everything for me.

So tonight, while Rosalinde is busy cleaning up after dinner, I pack my few belongings in a satchel. After she’s asleep, I slip out of the wagon and down the steps. I untie Wind, halter him, and swing up onto his back. “We have to be quiet, boy. Very quiet.”

He whuffles, as if he might understand. I pause at the edge of the wagon ring, my heart climbing into my throat. I look around at the brightly painted wagons. Yellow, Martin’s. Blue, Betty and Abraham’s, their new baby probably snoozing inside. Green, Thomas and Wayne’s. Purple, Andrea and Steve’s. Red, Roland and Danica’s. Orange, mine and Rosalinde’s. I continue around the circle, thinking of everyone I’ll miss—everyone who means everything to me.

Martin and Thomas and Rosalinde won’t understand, I know. But arguing with them in the morning would only make it harder. I walk quietly past the animal pens, and Biff, Boff, and Buff whine and whimper softly.

“It’s okay, boys. I’ll be fine.”

“Will you?” Abraham’s deep voice startles me.

I tug on Wind’s reins, and he stops. “I will.”

I’m lucky it’s Abraham on guard, and not Steve, who always follows Martin’s orders to the letter. Worst of all would be Thomas. He’d raise the alarm immediately.

Abraham only grunts.

“You have a new baby, so more than anyone, you get it. I can’t stay here and ask you all to risk everything for me. I can’t.”

“Who better to protect you than us, Alora?” With only moonlight to go by, his eyes are hard to see, but I know the expression he’s wearing well. Disappointed resignation, which means he accepts my decision.

“You have no idea how much it means that you all love me enough to risk it, but I can’t let you make that choice.”

“Not a single person disagreed with Martin’s request, you know. Not me, not Betty. Certainly not Thomas or Rosalinde.” Abraham smiles. “Not even my Sara, and you know how pragmatic she is.”

That’s an understatement. “Not even Sara, huh?”

Abraham nods. “And who else can help me manage all the animals?”

“I think you’ll do alright,” I say. “And please don’t be heroes if Amun does follow. Tell them I left, and tell them where I went. I don’t want any of you punished for me. Promise.”

“I promise.” His eyes are sad. That much I can see, even in the dim light.

Sad eyes or not, Abraham doesn’t try to stop me as I urge Wind forward and race down the smooth, well-trodden path. I’m not an expert at maps and roads like Martin, but this route is fairly simple. Sterling Castle is the very first fortress on the main road once you exit the Flashing Forest—the barricade that protects all of the land of Isis from the land of Amun. Like Spurlock and most of the other castles, it’s a city that formed around a fortress, but the entire settlement is much, much bigger than Spurlock. I’ve never been inside, but we travel past Sterling once a year, at least, so I’ve seen it from afar many times.

My general knowledge of the area notwithstanding, I’m not sure how much farther I need to go. I can’t even make out the moon up ahead, so I can’t tell where it is in the sky or what time the sun will rise. My eyes are burning, my shoulders are complaining, and Wind is tired, even though I’ve kept him to a controlled gait to cover the most ground possible.

When the road widens ahead and the trees thin, I’m a little surprised. I was dreading sleeping on the ground, but I didn’t think I’d have a choice. Wind and I need a break. The cool ocean breeze gusts against my face, and I close my eyes for a second, trusting Wind to remain steady. I had almost forgotten that Sterling sits just past where the Flashing Forest meets the ocean. It makes it one of the most easily defensible spots on Terra. Ocean waves crash into boulders on one side, and the forest lies ahead of it.

The sun’s rays are just peeking over the horizon when Wind and I leave the forest behind us. As the ground slopes upward toward Sterling City, Wind begins to wheeze. I slide off his back and lead him along. I’m more likely to be allowed through the main gate if I don’t look threatening.

Hopefully all they’ll see is a girl, leading her horse after a long journey, with a small bedroll strapped to his back.

I stop a moment later to allow Wind to graze. I locate a rock with a shallow dish shape in the top and give him some of my water. I’m not sure what sort of reception I’ll find at Sterling and for a moment, I consider releasing Wind. Maybe he’ll head back down the road and Martin will find him. Or he could be found and taken by someone who needs a plow horse. Wind would hate that.

Ultimately, I’m too selfish to let him go. It might be better for him, especially if Martin’s wrong and the leader of Sterling Castle isn’t my father. Or if they also think I need to be destroyed.

Ugh.

It’s such a gamble either way. But eventually Wind has recovered, and I don’t have a good excuse for delaying the final portion of my trip. Wind and I walk up the rather steep path toward Sterling City quietly, if not very quickly. Homesteads appear, farmers already out tending to crops and animals. They lift their hands in acknowledgement as I pass, and I return the motion as if I belong.

My heart races when I imagine introducing myself to my father, and apparently a brother. My worries and fears distract my focus. . .until a nearby farmer doesn’t wave. Instead, he takes one look at me and his entire family turns out of their cottage and rushes toward the fence, looking behind me, toward the Flashing Forest.

That’s when I finally notice the sound I ought to have heard right away.

The pounding of hooves—a great many hooves.

I spin around, Wind skittishly dancing to the side, toward a vast group of men in blood-red livery. Mounted cavalry.

The Followers of Amun.

They’re likely members of Units, which means their strength and skill should be significant. And racing into Sterling like this, mounted and armed, is practically an act of war. I can only think of one reason they’d do it.

To destroy the Warden.

Stupid Robert must have lived long enough to tell at least one person—and they believed him. I swing back up onto Wind’s back. My sweet boy’s desperate to escape the pounding mass of horses below us, his prey instinct kicking into full force. I don’t even make a kissing sound before he’s off, the wind flying through his mane and my hair as we race for the gates of Sterling City. It’s hard to tell with any precision, but it seems that they’re about as far from me as I am from the entrance.

I’m not sure whether we’ll make it before my pursuers close the gap.

Soldiers in blue livery on the wall call out loudly. “Amun riders approaching!” The city gates swing closed.

Even if I make it—will the Isis guards let me in?

The pounding of hooves grows louder. I glance behind me.

My heart hammers and blood rushes through my ears. Chunks of dirt and rock fly into the air behind Wind as we race toward the gates, but the riders are gaining on us. We aren’t going to make it in time.

Unless.

They already know I’m a woman who can Lift. They’ve sent at least a hundred men after me because of it. Why shouldn’t I use whatever I can to slow them down? For nearly fifteen years, my mantra has been keep hidden, keep safe. But it’s too late for that now—I’m not hidden, and I’m definitely not safe.

My hands tremble on the reins as Wind pounds the path toward the gate. I reach out with my senses for anything I might use—and settle on the most substantial thing that won’t resist Lifting. The gravel along the road beneath me.

I Lift great fistfuls of it and Bind all the tiny rocks into place just behind me with as much force and strength as I can manage, blocking the path between me and the Followers of Amun. They’re going to have to slow or stop and do some fancy maneuvering to avoid it. The farmer I’m passing stares at me with shock, but I don’t stop.

I watch over my shoulder to see what happens. Wind’s energy is flagging—he’s beyond tired. I need this plan to buy me some time.

The riders practically fly—their mounts clearly accustomed to long, hard rides. Their heads are low, because they’re also exhausted. I counted on that not changing, and so far, it appears I’m right. I Bound the gravel at the height of a person on horseback—not wanting to risk injuring innocent animals.

As the first row of riders, five wide, rides into the gravel, men scream and fall from their horses, writhing. Their horses keep running for a bit, veering off the path, confused and scared. The row of men behind them also hits the remaining gravel, two of four falling from their horses, the other two slumping forward.

The entire mass of them slows, shouting and arguing.

I Bind another row while they descend into chaos, and then I urge Wind forward again. I’m nearly to the gates, but I turn to see if my second attempt was as effective as the first.

The racing soldiers stop before the Bound rocks this time, touching them and milling around. After a bit of yelling and confusion, they circle around, heading toward me with renewed fervor.

They’re spread out and many are trailing, but the bulk of their force is still headed for me, faster now, with even grimmer expressions. With only a few hundred yards to go, the soldiers of Amun draw bows and nock arrows.

They let them fly.

I’m barely able to Lift all fifteen arrows, halting them before they reach me, and then flipping them the opposite direction. Then I send them right back at the attackers with as much force as I can muster.

Quite a few soldiers repel my attempt, but almost as many hit my intended targets. The soldiers cry out and those who blocked howl with rage.

Like they didn’t already hate me enough.

I finally reach the gate, which has by now been well and truly barred.

I bang on the heavy wood. “Let me in! Open the gate!”

“Who are you?” a man’s voice asks.

“Alora Sterling. Daughter of your Lord.” I really, really hope that’s true, or at least that they’ll let me in while they look into it.

Silence.

Almost a hundred riders pound toward me—and I Lift every tiny rock and pebble I can sense and fling them as hard as I can at the oncoming soldiers. Perhaps because they’re so much smaller than the arrows, the soldiers don’t manage to defend against these as well. Dozens of my projectiles find their targets. Men shout, fall, and flail. Horses rear and buck.

I bang on the door again.

Even with my attempts to slow them, most of the soldiers are fine—and now they’re nearly upon me.

“Open the gate! Hurry!”

The mounted men’s eyes gleam as they draw their swords.

A small side door I hadn’t noticed swings opens a dozen feet away, and a short, bald soldier in a bright blue tunic beckons. “Over here.”

I rush toward him, tugging hard on Wind’s reins. He barely clears the opening before the soldier slams the door with a thunk. He drops several wooden bars behind it.

“You’re really Alora Sterling?” His eyes widen.

I bob my head. “That’s what my mother said.”

The soldier swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “That’s impossible.”

“It is?”

“Alora Sterling and her mother died in a fire,” he says.

My eyes widen. “That’s news to me.”

“I guess so. Alora was just a baby when it happened.”

Did I escape Amun only to be attacked by Isis? “If you believe me dead, why did you open the gate?” At least the guard isn’t shouting for anyone—or pointing any weapons at me.

Yet.

“You look a lot like her, your mother I mean, but I still wouldn’t have opened the gate.”

“But you did.”

“I only let you in because he ordered it.”