The Lost Hero: Chapter 23

The air carried a hard edge in the mornings now. It settled in Firn’s joints and made them ache. But she rose before the sun, as she had for decades.

She dressed quietly, trying not to disturb the others still sleeping. Her two daughters, their husbands, and her sweet grandchildren, from Turin, a strapping boy of seventeen, down to baby Elgla, still swaddled. They all shared this tent, huddled together for warmth.

Firn slipped out into the predawn. Others were rising, calling soft greetings to each other. The fires had been banked for the night and Firn joined her friends to start the day’s work.

Soon, a hot meal of rice and vegetables was ready. She ladled out servings with a cheery salutation to each who came by her pot. They smiled thanks, but she could see the weight of their worry.

Davin and Athus spoke in low voices.

“Crytch, twenty miles behind. Tracking us. Dead now, but there will be others.”

Athus’ mouth was thin. “We’ll break camp as soon as possible.”

“We should send the women into Vabia.”

“With no protection?”

“We can only hide for so long. We’re going to run out of food and hills to flee to.”

“We are already scattered more than I like.”

Davin rubbed his face, scratching his rough beard. “No word from Juen?’

Athus shook his head. Davin grunted and the two men moved on.

They had spent three days in this narrow valley. A few hundred of them, crammed into tents and supplementing their provisions with local game.

There was no way an entire nation could hide for long. Their trail was too obvious, even split into a dozen or more different groups.

Firn packed her family’s kit. Her elder girl, Sabina, called to her boys as they scampered around her legs. Crytch and Champion was always the boys’ favorite game.

“Dav! Leat! Enough!”

The boys waited until their elders had passed. Then the crack of switch on skin.

“Hey, no fair! I wasn’t ready!”

Firn usually loved their games. Now, it was too real, too close.

The horses were packed and started on their slow trek through the hills. They had left the main paths, led by the Topik and the Gotkasi through these wild forests.

Though they did not speak of it, Firn knew the shame the Gotkasi carried. Scouts had stayed after the populace fled to the mountains. They had seen what Ero had done.

Firn wanted to shout it until they believed.

It wasn’t him! Our Ero would never do this!