Page 9 of Thorns & Fire (The Ashes of Thezmarr #2)

Wren

‘Healing isn’t an act – it’s an essence. It flows not from what we do, but from who we are’

– Alchemy of Afflictions

T HE STORM ROLLED in as they disembarked from the Sea Serpent’s Destiny and Wren shifted uneasily as her magic tried to respond in kind. Sparks of lightning formed at her fingertips, and she shoved her hands in her pockets to hide them from the others.

The south-east dock of Settler’s Port was bustling. The evening markets were already in full swing, with a variety of stalls lined up along the shore front despite the conditions. Wren pulled her hood up over her hair and squinted through the rain.

Thea nudged her. ‘Stop it,’ she hissed, jutting her chin towards the dark clouds closing in.

‘I can’t ,’ Wren shot back, her magic crackling unhelpfully beneath her skin.

‘That’s a problem. You know that, right?’ Thea made a noise of frustration, then shouldered her pack with a grimace.

Wren clenched her jaw before biting back, ‘Add it to the list, Thee.’

As their feet touched solid ground for the first time in days, Kipp squeezed between Wren and Thea, throwing his long arms around their shoulders. He winked at Dessa, who was overseeing the unloading of their horses. ‘I’d say we’ve got time for a tipple at the Fox, right?’

Wren laughed hoarsely; she’d anticipated this exact moment. ‘Sorry to disappoint, Kristopher, but we’re on a tight schedule. By the time we get the horses—’

‘We can wait at the Fox!’ he interjected.

Thea also shook her head. ‘Not tonight. We need to stock up on supplies before heading out.’

‘The Laughing Fox has plenty of supplies,’ he countered.

Wren rolled her eyes. ‘We can’t survive on sour mead for a week—’

Kipp looked genuinely shocked. ‘Speak for yourself.’

Wren folded her arms over her chest. ‘By all means, Kipp. You stay at the Fox while Thea, Dessa and I do the real work.’

Kipp gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Perhaps on the way back, then...?’

‘You and Dessa wait here for the horses. Thea and I will get rations for the road.’ Wren didn’t wait to hear more of his protests; she simply nodded to Thea, who instantly fell into step beside her.

‘Do you think there will ever come a day where he’s not a menace?

’ she asked her sister, with a backwards glance at their friend.

Thea laughed. ‘Gods, I hope not.’

As dusk fell, Wren and Thea made their way through the port town market.

Despite the rain and the claps of thunder, the vendors lit lanterns that bathed the rows of stalls in a warm, flickering glow.

The air was thick with an array of scents – spices, leather, roasting meats and the salt of the nearby sea.

Wren’s eyes darted from stall to stall, taking in the vibrant tapestry of colours and textures.

Bolts of silk in jewel tones caught the lantern light, while baskets overflowed with fruits and vegetables.

The calls of merchants hawking their wares mingled with the low hum of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter.

Thea pointed to a stall laden with hard cheese and dried meats. ‘We should start there.’

While Thea haggled over their provisions, Wren spotted a trader selling liquor. She purchased a small flagon of sour mead for Kipp.

‘He’ll be insufferable now, you realize?’ Thea said over her shoulder with a note of amusement.

‘I know. Perhaps I’ll keep it hidden until I need to bribe him for something.’

‘Genius.’

But Wren’s skin prickled. ‘Does this place feel different to you?’ she whispered, glancing around and realizing that they were being watched.

‘Yes.’ Thea drew her cloak around her, hiding the Warsword totem around her arm.

‘Bit late for that,’ Wren muttered, noticing the suspicious looks being thrown their way, the whispering behind cupped hands. ‘What’s going on here?’

Thea surveyed the market with a furrowed brow. ‘I haven’t been back here in a long time, but this was always a friendly place...’

‘They don’t like outsiders,’ came a voice from the shadows.

A herbalist stood behind a booth with bundles of dried plants hanging from the awning, the fragrance sharp and medicinal. Wren and Thea approached him.

‘We’re not outsiders,’ Wren told him, admiring his wares and wondering if she should stock up on her own supplies. ‘We’re from Thezmarr originally.’

The man scrutinized them. ‘I’m not sure that means what you think it does these days...’

Wren ignored the crawling sensation along her skin. ‘Well, that’s where we’re headed now,’ she lied.

Thea didn’t so much as blink at the falsehood. Instead, she tugged Wren’s arm in the direction of the docks. ‘We don’t want to be late for the Guild Master.’

The stall owner continued to study them. ‘A word of warning,’ he offered, glancing around distrustfully. ‘If you’ve not been in these parts for a while, you’re outsiders now... I’ve seen folks abducted right off the street for standing out less than the Shadow of Death.’

Wren’s gaze shot to Thea. Her sister’s eyes were full of rage as she said, ‘I didn’t realize those who defended the midrealms in the war weren’t welcome in Harenth.’

Wren remembered her own fiery words to the Bear Slayer not all that long ago... ‘I didn’t fight in the fucking shadow war so a man could tell me where my place is.’ Had they already lost the very thing they’d been fighting for?

She tugged on Thea’s cloak, the nape of her neck prickling again. ‘We should go.’

The man shrugged. ‘Only trying to help. Things are not as they once were.’

Wren pulled Thea away from the stall, a wave of goosebumps rushing across her skin as they started back towards the dock. Her unease grew, and she could have sworn she saw a glimpse of a cloaked figure darting through the crowd at the edge of her vision.

‘Thee...’ she said softly, hands drifting to the belt of potions at her waist. ‘We’re being followed.’

Thea gave a subtle nod. ‘I know.’

Wren, Thea, Kipp and Dessa rode well into the night, the road before them illuminated by the moon as the rain eased at last. Wren could feel their pursuer watching, their gaze boring a hole in her back as they followed at a distance.

‘We’re just going to let them trail us?’ she murmured to Thea.

Thea scoffed. ‘I was waiting until we were far enough away from the city in case it turned ugly. Wait here.’

Wren laughed darkly. ‘No.’

Her sister considered her, matching celadon eyes pausing at the belt of potions around Wren’s waist. ‘Fair enough,’ Thea said with a shrug, turning her stallion and urging it into a canter to confront their follower.

‘Wait here,’ Wren told the others, and went after her.

When she reached her sister, Thea had already leapt from her saddle and dragged the man from his horse. She had him pinned to the ground, a sword on either side of his neck, a black bruise already blooming around his left eye.

‘Who are you?’ the Warsword demanded.

‘No one,’ the man spluttered. ‘Just a commoner from Harenth.’

‘Then why are you following us?’ Wren asked over Thea’s shoulder.

‘They offered to pay—’

‘Who?’ Thea spat, pressing the blades harder against his throat. A fine stream of blood trickled down from where one sword had nicked his skin. ‘Who offered to pay?’ Thea repeated, her voice deadly calm.

Wren recognized herself in her sister then. The cold, unflinching tone that suggested there would be pain, that silence was not an option.

Thea cast her swords aside and grabbed a fistful of his shirt instead – a shirt that was in tatters. Wren heard it rip beyond repair as Thea hauled him to his feet, her face contorted in a snarl.

‘I won’t ask you again,’ said the Shadow of Death.

Wren recognized the wide-eyed fear on the man’s face; she had seen it many times before.

But his was not the look of an evil man, for she had seen plenty of those as well.

Dirt lined his hands and face, and he was barefoot.

His cheeks were hollow, his eyes sunken.

She glanced back to his horse to find that it wore no saddle, only a bridle.

‘Thea,’ she called gently.

‘If you didn’t want to see it, you shouldn’t have come with me,’ Thea snapped.

‘I can stomach as much violence as you, sister, but it’s not needed here,’ Wren told her. She motioned to the man’s appearance. ‘He’s not a traitor. He’s desperate.’

Thea let go instantly, and the man staggered back, panting.

Wren reached for her coin purse. ‘You were paid to follow us. How about you tell us why, and we pay you instead?’

The man stared at both sisters for a moment, catching his breath, glancing between them and his horse. But when Wren held out the coin, he took it.

‘The People’s Vanguard are offering rewards for information,’ he told them, voice trembling. ‘If new folk arrive in town, if neighbours start acting different... They’re giving out gold and silver for almost anything.’

‘And you intended to collect at our expense?’ Thea said, raising a brow that promised more brute force.

‘I wasn’t going to hurt you. J-just see where you were going,’ he stammered. ‘I just wanted to help my family. My daughter is sick, you see...’ He passed a hand across his weary face. ‘I need to get her to a healer. I need—’

‘What ails her?’ Wren asked, unable to help herself.

The man’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘She... she hasn’t stopped coughing. Not for weeks.’

‘Is there blood when she coughs?’

The man shook his head. ‘But she is skin and bones and pale as the moon. She cries all night from the aches and pain, and we’ve got nothing to give her.’

‘Buy a pot of honey with that coin. It will soothe the irritation in her throat.’ Ignoring Thea’s stare, Wren reached for her belt and rummaged through its pouches until she found what she was looking for.

One by one, she placed the supplies in the man’s outstretched hand.

‘Ginger and feverfew,’ she explained. ‘Make a tea with these extracts to give her some relief. And this?’ She produced a vial.

‘The oil from a string bark tree. Put five drops in boiling water and have your daughter inhale the steam. It should ease the symptoms so she can rest and recover.’

The man blinked at her, cupping the supplies in his hands. ‘You’re a healer?’

‘Not a healer. I just have a decent knowledge of herbs.’ Wren didn’t reveal that she was an alchemist, knowing there was still a chance he’d report their movements for more coin back in the city.

‘What happens to “outsiders” who get sold out to the People’s Vanguard?

’ she asked evenly. ‘Once you receive your reward, what becomes of them?’

‘I...’ He looked between her and Thea, visibly shaking. ‘I don’t know.’

Thea scoffed, sheathing her swords and shoving her own coin purse into his chest. ‘Whoever these traitors are, they don’t care about you and your family.’

‘Until now, what choice did I have?’ he asked, voice raw as he pocketed the items Wren had given him.

‘Well, you have a choice now,’ Wren told him.

The man sighed. ‘For how long? I am grateful for your help, truly. But...’

‘But it’s a short-term solution?’ Wren finished for him.

He nodded. ‘I’m sorry.’

Thea studied him. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Paden.’

‘Well, Paden of Harenth,’ Thea said, mounting her horse. ‘I trust you won’t forget this?’

‘No, my lady.’

Wren followed her sister’s lead, fitting her boot to her stirrup and mounting her mare. ‘We’re heading to Thezmarr,’ she told him. ‘I trust that information will stay with you as well.’

‘Yes, my lady. Thank you.’

‘We wish you and your family well, Paden.’ She motioned for him to leave.

Wren and her sister watched him ride back towards Harenth, disappearing over the horizon.

‘Should have killed him,’ Thea observed as they steered their horses in the opposite direction. ‘He’ll report straight back to whoever he wanted coin from.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Wren replied. ‘There are far greater currencies than gold and silver to some people.’

Thea made a noncommittal noise. ‘Either way, this isn’t good.’

‘No, it’s not.’

They urged their horses into a gallop. ‘The sooner we meet with Cahira,’ Thea called out to Wren, ‘the sooner we can figure out just how fucked we are.’

The next day, as another sunset kissed the horizon, Wren admired the vast expanse of land before them. A sea of silver-green blades swayed gently in the cool afternoon breeze, with dew clinging to every stem, catching the light and transforming the field into a glittering tapestry.

Crossing the open fields should have felt like freedom, but Wren only felt exposed and vulnerable out here. Every rustling blade of grass seemed to whisper of hidden dangers, turning the once-inspiring landscape into a reminder of the strange undercurrent now sweeping through the midrealms.

Lost in thought, she almost didn’t hear the approach of hoofbeats. But she twisted in her saddle to see a lone warrior riding towards them.

Her new bodyguard.

Wren straightened, curiosity piqued. She had only met a handful of the newer Warswords over the years, though Thea had done nothing but sing their praises. If having a guard was mandatory, she needed someone strong, disciplined, able to put duty above all else, someone detached—

A familiar figure dipped their head in greeting.

It was no woman Warsword.

Silver hair peeked out from beneath a hooded cloak, and broad shoulders bore the weight of a war hammer across his back.

‘You...’ The word slipped from Wren’s lips while her fingernails cut half-moons into her palms.

As he reached them, Torj Elderbrock blocked out the sun. ‘Me.’