Shield of Sparrows

“Do you remember what a real bed feels like?” Brielle whispered from her bedroll beside mine. “A bed that doesn’t sway.”

“A bed without rocks digging into your back.” Jocelyn scowled as she tried to find a smoother place to rest.

“We’ll have real beds again. Soon.”

It was an empty promise. As far as I knew, there were no beds in Turah. We certainly hadn’t seen one since we’d arrived.

Around us, men moved about the camp. Every few minutes, someone would shout.

As Zavier had promised, today had been strenuous.

When I’d awoken before dawn and stepped outside my tent, it had been the only structure left standing. All the others had been stowed in wagons. The fires were dwindling to embers, and the horses were being saddled.

Once my tent was packed away, we’d set off toward the mountains. Tillia, Jocelyn, and Brielle had ridden by my side. A group of warriors had lingered close, each at the ready to draw swords or bows at a hint of danger.

The ride had been punishing and fast. The entire party had pushed hard to get to this place.

We were sheltered against an outcropping of large rocks that jutted from the grassy plains. It wasn’t as exposed as the previous campsite, but something about this place felt ominous.

Maybe because the best warriors, Zavier and six of his rangers, had left for Perris.

The Guardian was gone, too.

I stared up at Ama and Oda’s stars and the shades of the Six in between. From white to gray to black, the night sky had never been so clear. So beautiful. Did it make the Turans closer to the gods, that they could see the stars and shades so openly?

I imagined lines between the stars, mentally invisible thrones for the gods. If they were watching, I prayed they’d get us through this night.

My entire body ached from the training session with the Guardian. Staying on my horse for the grueling ride had drained every bit of my strength.

It hurt to breathe. To think. My limbs were stiff, my muscles protesting even the slightest movement. I wasn’t sure how I’d survive tomorrow after a night spent lying on the ground. There was a pointy rock digging into my left hip, but it hurt too much to move, so I didn’t bother. Like Jocelyn, even if I shifted, I’d probably just find another rock.

Tillia had told us we wouldn’t be bothering with tents. We weren’t staying here for long. Instead, we had these bedrolls like everyone else. They were nothing more than scratchy blankets to wrap around our bodies.

The entire traveling party was clustered together, tucked beside the rock outcropping to protect our backs. And at the front, a half circle of fires was blazing into the night. Their spacing was more condensed, the flames from one licking another’s. It was a fraction of the size of the previous camp. Less perimeter to defend, according to Tillia.

A series of clicks echoed through the dark, reverberating off the rocks.

Those clicks had been coming for hours and hours and hours.

At first, I hadn’t realized what they meant. Now? I tensed, holding my breath for what would come next.

“On your left!” a man shouted.

Brielle took my hand.

Jocelyn signed the Eight.

“There’s two,” another man yelled through the night.

Then came the roars. The growls. The snarls.

A scream cut short.

More men shouted and yelled until the camp went quiet.

Eerily quiet.

No clicks. No shouting.

All I could hear was my own heartbeat and Brielle’s muffled cries.

Had anyone died this time?

The warriors would fight all night. Once she’d ensured we were settled, Tillia had left to take her position at the fires. She hadn’t even bothered laying out her bedroll.

“Report!” a man called.

“One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

Every warrior stationed at a post called out their respective number.

When they reached thirty-six, the entire camp seemed to breathe.

Twelve fires. Three guards each.

Thirty-six guards, still alive.

A quiet settled over the camp, the only sounds the crackling of fires and popping of logs. All I wanted to do was sleep. To block out the noise and fear. I couldn’t remember ever being this tired. But those clicks kept coming.

The monsters were everywhere.

Bariwolves.

Tillia said the packs used those clicks to communicate.

“I miss the sound of the ocean,” Brielle whispered.

“So do I.”

“I want to go home.” She sobbed, the sound coming so fast she slapped a hand over her mouth.

Tillia had told us to stay quiet. But sometimes, there was no stopping the pain. The loneliness. The heartache.

Every part of my body screamed as I rolled to my side, keeping her hand in mine and clutching it tight. “I’m sorry, Brielle. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is.”

She used her free hand to wipe her face dry. “Was it your idea to get married?”

I sighed. No. “Okay, so maybe it’s not my fault. But I’m still sorry.”

“Me too.” She gave me a sad smile. “I don’t want to get eaten by a monster.”noveldrama

“Me neither,” Jocelyn muttered.

Brielle let out a small laugh, then leaned in closer, her head resting on my shoulder. “Do you think they’ll keep us safe?”

“Yes.” I might not know why Zavier wanted me as his wife, but I did have faith that he wanted me alive. So did the Guardian. Otherwise, they would have let the marroweel swallow me whole.

We stayed together, holding hands, as the quiet lingered. No more clicks. No shouting. Eventually, my eyelids were too heavy to keep open, so I shut out the stars and drifted off.

A roar ripped me from sleep, my eyes popping open as I shoved up to a seat and stared toward the fires.

That roar wasn’t from bariwolves. It was too loud, too deep, too terrifying.

A grizzur.

The fires tonight weren’t as large as those we’d had at the other encampment. Were they big enough to keep a massive monster at bay? Or would that grizzur rip through the perimeter and tear us all to pieces, leaving only carrion come daylight?

Brielle curled into herself, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them tight.

Others shifted to sit up, too. Some stayed down, staring at the stars.

Another roar blasted through the night, so loud the rocks behind us seemed to quake.

The warriors stationed at the fires drew back, inching away from the flames, their swords and knives raised.

“Steady,” Tillia ordered. Her voice was strong. Calm.

It did nothing to stop the terror creeping through my veins.

A tremor shook the ground beneath my blanket. Then came another and another. They formed a rhythm like hooves. But bigger. So much bigger.

I stared unblinkingly past the fires and into the darkness.

Without moving my gaze, I felt around for my satchel. For the shoulder harness I’d tucked into the bag, and with it, my knives.

They’d be pointless against a grizzur. And I didn’t really know how to use them yet. I might as well be defending myself with bare hands and the fingernails that I’d chewed short on today’s ride so they wouldn’t collect dirt.

Zavier had warned me that Turah was dangerous. Then he’d abandoned us. All of us.

So had the Guardian.

My heart raced as the pounding grew louder, stronger. So strong it was enough to bounce the tiny pebbles beside my bedroll.

Gods, save us.

Another roar rent the air. It was so close it seemed like a hot breath, a kiss of death, blowing through the camp.

“Praise Ama. Beloved Mother,” Brielle murmured, “save us this night. Or bring us to your shores of starlight. Grant us quick deaths, Izzac. Let us rest upon Oda’s golden rays and know peace, dear Carine.”

A few of the men around us stood, abandoning their bedrolls. They were the men who drove the wagons. They backed away toward the rocks as if they’d climb out to freedom.

“Hold!” Tillia’s command was unwavering.

None of the thirty-six moved.

And a secondary line formed at their backs. Not warriors, just men. But they went armed with swords and crossbows, bodies braced for whatever was coming through that fire.

Those earthquaking footsteps grew louder and louder as the beast raced for the camp. It had to be running full speed. Maybe it would simply leap over the fires and leverage the flames to light its midnight meal.

Brielle sprang to her feet, tugging on my hands as she tried to pull me up. “Highness, come. Hurry. We must run.”

We’d never make it. So I stayed frozen to the ground, knives gripped in my palms, awaiting the death that thundered our way.

The roar that came next was savage. It was followed by a snarl that made Jocelyn yelp. The footsteps had stopped pounding, but the tremors beneath us continued, like the beast was moving, just not running. Another incensed snarl cut through the dark.

I lifted to my knees, squinting to see what was happening. Were the warriors firing at the grizzur with arrows? Had the fires scared the beast? What was happening?

The warriors all shifted, adjusting their stances. But they didn’t move, either. They stared into the night, and all we could do was listen to the monster growl.

Something had to be attacking the grizzur. Something had interrupted its path.

The bariwolves? Except I hadn’t heard their clicks. My ears and eyes strained, my heart in my throat.

The next roar was choked. Cut short.

It faded in a heartbeat, and then there was nothing.

The entire camp held its breath as the fires sparked and popped.

Then the Guardian stalked through the flames, covered in dark blood. It dripped from the ends of his hair and his chin. It trickled down his arms, down the length of his gleaming silver sword.

His eyes were the same color, swirling metal.

And locked on me.

The air rushed from my lungs.

He hadn’t abandoned us after all.

“Izzac,” Brielle gasped.

Maybe those rumors about the Guardian were true. Maybe he was the God of Death.

People began to cheer. Blades were thrust into the night as a chant erupted.

Guardian. Guardian. Guardian.

Brielle dropped to my side, her arms wrapping around my shoulders as she cried. “Oh, gods.”

“We’re okay.” Jocelyn buried her face in her hands, her body shaking as she wept.

I tore my gaze from the Guardian and leaned into Brielle. “It’s all right.”

She clung to me, soaking the fabric of my tunic with her tears.

When I looked toward the fires, the Guardian was with Tillia, their heads bent in a private conversation.

He leaned in so close that their cheeks nearly touched. She rested a hand on his heart, shoulders falling away from her ears at whatever he said. Then her forehead dropped to his chest, resting beside her hand.

It was a private moment. Intimate. And I was intruding.

My gaze snapped to the ground.

Tillia and the Guardian? Were they together? It made sense. Both were warriors. Both were fearless. She was breathtaking, and he was…him.

A slimy sensation crawled beneath my skin, and I shoved it away, refusing to give it a name.

“I’m sorry.” Brielle pulled away, wiping her cheeks dry as she sniffled. “You’ve had to console me since we left Roslo. Here, I’m the one supposed to help you.”

“I don’t mind.” I gave her a soft smile, tucking a lock of her brown hair behind her ear.

Around us, the chants died out. The men who’d scattered to the rocks returned to their bedrolls, plopping down with relieved sighs.

“We should rest,” I told Brielle. “Before tomorrow.”

She huffed. “There’s no chance I’ll fall asleep.”

But as she settled onto her side, as the terror receded and the camp quieted, her body relaxed, and before long, exhaustion won out.

I hung my head, still on my knees. Knives still in my hands. I couldn’t seem to let them go. So I stared at their sharp edges, wishing I was made of steel, too.

A finger hooked under my chin.

I knew whose finger it was before I lifted my eyes.

The Guardian crouched before me, still covered in blood. He’d walked to me without a sound, his footsteps as light as feathers.

“Are you all right, my queen?” It was the gentlest I’d ever heard his voice. Low and smooth like silk.

“Was it a grizzur?”

“Yes.”

“Is it dead?”

He arched an eyebrow. “Cross.”

Right. Stupid question. Of course it was dead. It had bled all over him, too, leaving behind the stench of blood.

He let go of my chin and pointed to my bedroll. “Sleep. We leave—”

“At dawn. I know.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Good night, my queen.”

I should have thanked him before he walked away. For killing the monster. For checking on me. For putting my fears to rest with his presence alone. But I settled on my blanket and let him disappear into the dark.

He was probably with Tillia already, standing guard.

Together.

Well, at least they weren’t cuddling on her bedroll.

By some miracle, I managed to sleep until sunrise. Then I climbed on my roan and joined the procession away from the dying fires.

Away from the body of a dead grizzur with milky white eyes. Foam at the corners of its mouth.

And the dark-green blood seeping from its slit throat.