She knew it was before he nodded.
“Every Fatàn has one. They work like ours – identity, coin. But they also allow them passage through any shield they cast,” Sebastian told her.
Her mind spun. Fatàn Creststones weren’t trinkets you could pick up at market. They were bound to their bearers, layered with wards only the owner’s magic could breach. Most people lived and died without ever seeing one outside of Fatàn hands.
“How in the name of the Four did you even get–”
“Doesn’t matter,” he said. “And they’ll never find it... not without taking the clothes off my back.” He smirked at his own cleverness.
But she hardly registered the joke. She was too busy processing what he’d just given her. He’d shown her. Willingly. Not only the Creststone itself, but the knowledge that could ruin him. Its location. The trust.
She looked from his sleeve to his face. “What made you tell me?”
His tone turned serious. “Because if I’m gone, and you need to get through one of their shields... you’ll know how.”
Kara fell quiet, absorbing the implication of Sebastian’s words. He was planning for his own absence. His own death, maybe.
As they rode downhill, the Fatàn border opened in front of them. The green disappeared – replaced by black rock and ash. A looming volcano dominated the skyline. Steam hissed up from cracks in the black rock. A sparse pine forest had grown stubbornly on either side of the path, clinging to life despite the terrain. The air shimmered with heat ahead of them. Kara wiped sweat from her forehead.
It’s already hot. And we’re not even in there yet.
“Here we are,” she said apprehensively.
“We need to go slower from here on out,” he reminded her.
She rolled her eyes. “I know. I was listening. Lava flows, fissures, break a leg. Yep.”
“I wouldn’t want to have to save you... again,” he jibed.
“I can handle it,” she replied irritably.
An hour later, they’d navigated their first fissure – a jagged crack in blackened ground that had forced them to dismount and lead the valmares across. By the time they cleared it and were back on even ground, Kara was flushed with heat and dust, but still upright.
As they mounted their valmares again, she asked, with a touch of smugness, “Still think I can’t handle myself?”
He threw his foot back in the stirrups, smiling faintly. “You? No. I’ve learnt my lesson.” He let the pause stretch long enough for her tofeel pleased, then said, “It’s the poor bastards who underestimate you I worry about.”
Sebastian had been right. It was slow progress through Fatàn. The path in between quiet clusters of houses dipped into a shadowy forest, its twisted branches alive with hidden wildlife. The scent of pine was laced with faint sulphur. Sebastian kept scouting a few paces ahead of her, looking around every corner as though a hundred men were about to jump out and attack them. He was probably not wrong. They were heading towards Thorne, towards the soldiers that were almost certainly hunting them. Hot springs bubbled up beside the path, and Kara refilled their canteens whilst Sebastian watched the tree line. Night had fallen by the time they made camp in a small clearing sheltered by pines; the forest now quiet.
“We’ll rest a few hours,” he said, crouching by the valmares. “Just long enough for them to recover. Then we move again.”
She nodded in agreement as she built up the fire. Once it was lit, she pulled out the mushrooms and herbs she’d gathered earlier and set a pot over the flames. The stew she made wasn’t much – but it was hot, and it was food. She ladled some into a bowl and handed it to him.
“I will say, Kara, I’ve eaten better since you came along,” he said appreciatively.
“Glad I can be of use,” she said, smiling.
“Better put that fire out now. The light will carry here,” he instructed. “Don’t want to announce ourselves.”
She did as she was told and darkness rushed into the clearing. She blinked, giving herself a moment to adjust. Without the light, the crackle of flames, the hot spring’s gentle bubbling felt louder, and the forest seemed to press closer.
“You think Thorne soldiers are here already?” she asked.
“I think we don’t have the luxury of distance. Thorne is only two days ride from here. All depends on where the men were stationed, and when my father gave the order.”
Kara looked down at her uneaten stew. His father hadn’t wanted this.
“If they’re smart,” he added, “They won’t come through Fatàn at night. If they’re desperate, they will.”
