He nodded but I could tell I hadn’t assuaged his fears in any way.
“How’s it going with your brooding trainer?”Zyawhispered as we stepped through the trees and the sun seemed to fade away behind us, leaving us facing a darkened forest.
“The same,” I replied with a sigh. “It’s been days since we started and he insists on hurling knives at me every chance he gets. If I didn’t know he had good aim, I would swear he was trying to kill me.”
Zya smiled at that.
“As it is, I don’t see how any of it's supposed to be helping me call the dark,” I told her, irritation creeping into my tone the way it always did when I spoke of my training. “He just forces me to run for my life while screaming vague instructions about claiming my ‘true power’ and reaching for the ‘source’, whatever that is. And he only ends each session when I get mad enough to strike back. Then he just smiles that stupid grin of his and says we’re done for the day.”
Zya laughed.
“He’s an…unconventional instructor, I’ll give him that,”Zyasaid, amused.
“That’s an understatement,” I replied, rolling my eyes. “But ifPrimaexpects me to learn how to call the dark, I think she might want to rethink who she’s assigned to train me.”
“I don’t know. I think she’s got it right. I mean, after all, I don’t know anyone more stubborn than either one of you. If anyone can teach you something you don’t want to be taught, it’sGryfon.”
My gaze snapped to her and I opened my mouth to argue but then the sun was beaming down on us again and we were stepping out of the trees and into a clearing full of men and women bustling about their afternoon work.
I stopped walking.
It was a city of tents. White canvas tied to sturdy wooden poles littered the massive clearing. Women strode to and from the fires and cook pots settled between and around them. Men carried buckets of water from the river or sat skinning hunted beasts by open canvas flaps. Some hung laundry on lines strung up between tents, some weaved baskets from river reeds and chatted warmly by the fires, some crafted or sharpened blades big and small at various forges. Children ran about, playing with woven toys or kicking slimy river rocks back and forth. The tents seemed to stretch on forever and, in the very back of them, a cave. The opening was at least fifteen feet tall and ten feet wide and it yawned into a dark abyss that one could not see beyond.
“This isArchí?” I asked, striding towardGryfonwho'd just finished giving his warriors their final orders of the journey and welcoming them back home. “This is your city?”
“It isn’t my city but yes,” he replied. “It isArchí.”
“I thought it would be more…founded,” I told him, trying to keep the disappointment from my tone. “It’s been two thousand years and you have…tents.”
“Archíisn't home. Those who come here do not make it so,”Gryfonexplained, his voice low. “It's a sacred place, a beginning of sorts, but it isn't our home. We're a nomadic people, moving place to place to avoid whatever threat theGeisthave invented against us most recently. We're not safe here or anywhere. So how can we build a home until we are?”
“That sounds difficult.”
“It's not for the faint of heart,”Gryfonsaid, giving a pointed glance at Darius who scowled in return before storming away to join the others, Roxy trailing after him.
I sighed.
“I wish you wouldn’t antagonize him like that,” I said.
“He makes it far too easy,”Gryfongrumbled in reply. “And you all need to stop tiptoeing around his feelings. It will make him weak and weakness will kill him.”
“You know, there are ways to get your point across without being an asshole.”
“I’m not aware of any.”
“Not everyone responds well to the tough love approach.”
“Who said anything about love?”
I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to sigh again.
“Well your just-tough-no-love approach isn’t working on me,” I told him as we strode forward together into the camp.
I didn't miss the way people cleared out ahead of us,eyeingGryfonwarily, as we went. Some bowed their heads in greeting, some smiled and waved, most just moved aside, staring and wide-eyed. Curious.
“Perhaps it's the student who's the problem, not the teacher,”Gryfonmuttered at my side.
“Only a shit teacher blames the student.”
