Iryana tensed. “This may surprise you, but the Kleesolds are short on hands right now. Even losing mine will hurt.”
“Ah, yes.” Pyetar slid his thumb across his chin. “But how will they know what they’ll be missing? You risked your life leading an entire pack of dakii away, but they have no idea you saved them all.”
She looked away. “Just because I don’t want to see more people ripped apart by the dakii, doesn’t mean I’m close with my family. I prefer to avoid attention. Can we go now?”
After a long silence, he sighed. “I will meet you at the river.”
Finally.
Iryana turned hard on her heels and headed for the cliffs. Hopefully, she would calm down before she saw him again. She didn’t know how far the brigade’s home was, but traveling with Pyetar would not be a pleasant trip.
Chapter Eight
Pyetar was waiting at the edge of the river, arms crossed like he was majorly inconvenienced. He turned when he saw her, heading toward the mouth of the lower valley.
“Can you hold a light shield without tiring yourself out?” he asked without turning.
She narrowed her eyes at his back, at the assumption she had a child’s control of her magic.
“Not a problem.” She pushed her magic out, keeping it thin and close so it wouldn’t cause too much strain.
He glanced back as if inspecting her shield. She raised a brow, daring him to critique her. Few had enough control over their magic to pull their shield so close to their skin, but Iryana had always excelled at it. Was she showing off? A little.
She smiled when he turned back around, having nothing to comment on. Perhaps it would do his arrogance some good.
A shimmer of light around Pyetar’s shoulder caught her attention, and Iryana realized he had formed his own shield. She hadn’t had time to look at it closelybefore. Not only was it as tight as Iryana’s and effortless-looking, it was surprisingly opaque.
“Why didn’t you forge all your magic?”
She didn’t know anyone who had wasted so much raw magic. Her Uncle Dinhal had forged some of his magic into a round shield as big as his torso, but it was still forged-magic, not raw. Did Pyetar have so much to spare that he could afford to leave some unforged?
Raw magic was hard to finesse and didn’t provide any benefits beyond a barrier. But once that milky-white magic was forged in a well and given a form, it not only gained color and strength from the well’s magic, but important qualities, too, depending on which god the well-magic originated from.
Pyetar shrugged, hesitating before he answered. “Made sense to keep enough for my shield. Helps me avoid the dakii sometimes.”
“What are your forgings then?” she asked, because he seemed irritated by her questions.
With a sigh, Pyetar held his hands out as he walked, and a double-edged sword formed in each. They had so much metal magic worked into them that they were the color of a stormy sky. Just as quickly, Pyetar took the magic back in, and the swords were gone. She was surprised. They were not the most practical weapon against the beasts. Then another weapon was forming in his hands, the purple-black magic swirling into shape.
It was like what they used to hunt boar: a relatively short spear, just a bit longer than Pyetar was tall, with a crossbar to keep the spear from getting stuck or one’s prey from running up the spear. But instead of a single blade, this one had three wide, double-edged blades. Almost like a trident.
Nowthatwas a weapon for hunting the dakii. A beast spear.
She felt better about traveling with him, armed with a metal-forged weapon like that. As long as he didn’t turn it on her.
She hadn’t seen him fight, but she assumed he could. Given that he spent so much time traveling alone among the dakii, she should have known he was capable. Still, she’d have to be wary. If he tried to stop her from reaching the brigade, she might not be able to stop him.
Raw magic shields didn’t hold up as well to forged magic as they did to other things. Earth was weak to air, air weak to metal, metal weak to fire, fire weak to water, and water weak to earth. And raw magic was weak to all of it.
If he came at her with his metal-forged sword, it could shatter her shield with enough effort.
They only made it a few more paces before he stopped.
“Look,” Pyetar cut into the silence. “The 18th Brigade is not the place for someone like you, and when you are dealt the consequences of such a choice,Iwill have to deal with the fallout with your family. You were raised a guardian, raised to be a protector. It is not a place for naïve, gentle people. They will eat you alive.”
The worries that had been eating away at her were nothing compared to the indignation she felt at a stranger voicing them. Let alone a member of the brigade involved with trafficking the drug that had ruined her life.
“Don’t pretend you know me and don’t pretend you have my wellbeing in mind.” She couldn’t stop the low, seething words from pouring out of her mouth. He wasn’t special, probably wasn’t any worse than the rest of the soldiers, but he was who she’d pictured for years when she thought about how much she hated them. “You take advantage of people, take their money and leave them to their moments of bliss and days of suffering.”
