Shield of Sparrows

My pillow was on the floor when I awoke, but the Guardian had disappeared, leaving behind only a note on the table.

I have business to finish before we leave. Don’t wander far.

His handwriting was not at all what I’d expected. It was neat and clean. Practiced. Regal.

My own script was sloppier than his.

What business did he have to finish? Another rendezvous with his blonde?

It didn’t matter. I didn’t care.

His absence meant I had a morning to myself, and I wasn’t going to squander the chance to explore. After yesterday, he could have locked me in this room. He could have dragged me back to Treow at dawn. Instead, he’d ordered me not to wander far, meaning he knew I was going to wander.

He was letting me test the open door to my cage.

So with my satchel strapped across my body, dressed in the tunic I’d slept in and the pants I’d brought along, I walked out of my room with the thrill of excitement bubbling in my veins. I’d left the shoulder harness for my knives in Treow, but they were in my bag, their handles sticking out slightly from one side. Even if I didn’t know how to use them well, I felt better having them close.

The morning was crisp and fresh with a sweetness that I held in my lungs with every inhale as I left the inn for the bustling streets of Ashmore.

A woman with short, spiky gray hair sold sage sausage and potato buns from a cart outside the dark, empty tavern.

The man I’d passed yesterday, the man with the spear, trudged down the road, eyes tired. His makeshift weapon hung limply at his side. He glanced my way, but if he had the energy to shoot me another glare, it had vanished sometime in the night.

A man wearing a teal overcoat strolled down the center of the street, whistling as he walked. The color reminded me so much of Quentis, of our flags and uniforms, it gave me a twinge of homesickness.

I didn’t ask for directions to the library. The sideways glances and wide berths the residents gave me were enough that I kept to myself. Besides, the town wasn’t large enough to need instruction. I simply wandered up and down the streets, finishing my breakfast along the way.

It was on the third street that I found it.

There was no sign for the library. Nothing etched on the door.

There wasn’t a door. There were no windows. There wasn’t even a building.

What remained of the library was nothing but a charred pile of rubble.

Bookshelves burned and crumbling. A thick layer of fine ash from hundreds and hundreds of pages eaten by flame.

King Ramsey and his soldiers had paid a visit to Ashmore. Before or after his visit to Treow?

My heart ached as I stood in front of the wreckage.

The soldiers hadn’t bothered removing books from this building. They’d just torched the entire structure. Would they have done the same in Treow had Cathlin’s library not been attached to the infirmary? Had they raided homes in Ashmore, too?noveldrama

My mood turned sour and sullen as I walked away from the rubble. “Why would a king want to burn books?”

“Fair question.”

I gasped, doing a double take as a woman fell into step beside me. “Cathlin?”

“Hello, Odessa.” She brushed her sleek white hair over her shoulder as she laughed. “Mind if I join you on your walk?”

“Not at all. I was heading back to the inn to meet the Guardian.”

“Ah. I’m surprised he’d bring you here.”

“He, um…didn’t. I sort of came here on my own.”

Her eyebrows lifted. “Did you now?”

“I was lectured, ad nauseam, about the recklessness of that decision.”

“I’m sure you were.” She tried—failed—to hide a laugh with a hand. “And where is he this morning?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “He told me not to wander far.”

“Ah. As irksome as he is, it’s wise to listen. He is sworn to protect you.”

“He is?” When had that happened?

Cathlin looped her arm through mine, her hand patting my wrist. “Come, my dear. Let me show you around Ashmore.”

We turned at the next corner, weaving through the streets until we came to a deep trench that cut us off from continuing. It was about five paces wide and stretched the length of three homes. The sides were sloped slightly, and there were footprints in the dirt where someone had crawled out.

“What’s this?” I asked Cathlin.

“Migration tunnels.” She pointed to the end of the trench where a hole opened beneath the ground. “This is the main access point for the community shelter. It’ll be available for those who aren’t digging their own private areas to stay during the migration. The tunnels will stretch beneath the town. Some of the larger buildings, like the inn, will have an entryway that connects.”

“Did Ashmore not have this during the last migration?” I asked.

“They did.” There was a melancholy to her voice. “But it wasn’t deep enough. It wasn’t reinforced enough. The crux were able to scent those hiding, even through the ground. They ripped through the earth and killed everyone.”

I pressed a hand to my chest. “That’s awful.”

“Hopefully this will suffice.” She turned from the tunnel. “Shall we continue?”

I fell into step beside her, taking a glance over my shoulder. In Roslo, we had tunnels and shelters built deep into the rock walls that surrounded the city. There was no way for the crux to find their way inside. But those in the countryside would dig shelters. Like the Turans, they’d already begun their preparations.

It had been easy to forget with all of the activity of the past weeks that the migration was coming. Now it rested heavy on my heart. How many people in Ashmore would survive? How many would rely upon those tunnels to keep them safe?

We walked in silence until we reached the same houses I’d passed yesterday on the way into town. The little boy who’d been playing in his yard was there again, chasing some pretend monster with a stick he wielded like it was a sword.

“What are you doing in Ashmore?” I asked Cathlin.

“Visiting an old lover. We reconnected recently, and I wanted to see if maybe there was something worth exploring.”

“And?”

“She’s lovely. But I don’t think we’ve got a future.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

She sighed. “It’s all well. I’d hoped that while I was here, I’d get to browse the library. Apparently, I was too late.”

“I’m sorry for that, too.”

Cathlin pursed her lips. “As am I.”

“Why is King Ramsey destroying books and libraries?”

Her teeth clamped together so hard I heard the molars grind. “Because Ramsey has lost his godsdamn mind. I wish I had a better explanation.”

Ramsey. Not King Ramsey or His Majesty. The casual way the Turans addressed their royal leadership still took me by surprise. Yet there were people who seemed insistent on calling me Princess Odessa Wolfe.

I was going to need a lesson on the nuances of Turan formalities.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

People were going to keep asking me that question. Since I couldn’t tell the truth, it was time to come up with a believable lie.

“I also came for the library. I’m afraid I don’t know much about Turah,” I told her. “Not as much as I should. I wasn’t really prepared to marry Zavier.”

Her forehead furrowed. “But you’re the Sparrow.”

The Guardian called me Sparrow in jest. But there was respect in the way Cathlin spoke. To her, it wasn’t only a nickname. It was a title to be regarded.

Like it or not, I was the Sparrow.

And these people had expectations of their future queen.

“The wedding was supposed to be at the equinox. I thought I had more time to learn about your kingdom.” I hoped she’d believe these lies. I couldn’t tell her why I’d come to Ashmore, and for some reason, I didn’t feel like explaining Mae and the bride prize. “I’m trying, but…”

“It’s difficult without books.”

“Quite.” I let her guide me on, taking me to the edge of town. “Can I ask you something? How do they keep the monsters out of Ashmore? The merchant who brought me here yesterday said they didn’t.” Not anymore.

Cathlin took another step forward, surveying the open plains beyond the road. “Most towns and cities in Turah are built against natural barriers. They’re carved into our landscapes for protection. Ellder is tucked against the mountains. Perris has the ocean at its back. As you’ve seen, Treow is a shelter within the trees.”

“But not Ashmore.”

“No.” She shook her head. “Our kingdom is vast, and as such, our cities spread apart. It’s a long way from Perris to Ellder and anything beyond. Towns like Ashmore give travelers respite. People can find work here they might not elsewhere. A merchant can open a shop. A woman can run a tavern. And some are here simply because they prefer a quieter lifestyle. But living in the wilds is not without its risks.”

“Monsters?”

“They’re a more notable risk. So is the weather. Turan winters can be as vicious as any beast. In Quentis, your soil grows grains that would never survive here, especially with the drought of recent years. We raise livestock. We harvest lumber. That cannot be done within the confines of a city wall. Out here, these people are creating something. Those in the cities often take for granted where their food comes from. Where they get the wood for their homes. As does our king.”

“What do you mean?”

“In the past, the towns where there are no rivers or mountains to aid in protection were given members of the army. Men and women tasked to keep any wayward monster from a village. Have you seen a soldier since you’ve arrived?”

“No.” Not one.

“The villagers do their best to fill the gap. People stand watch. But they have their own lives and jobs to do.”

The man I’d seen with the spear. He’d likely stood guard all night and was now going to work.

“Why would the king withdraw his protection?”

“You’ll have to ask him.” Her nostrils flared. “But I suspect it’s because he wants people to move to the cities.”

With the migration coming, if I was trying to keep my people safe, I’d want them behind city walls, too. They’d be safer than hand-dug tunnels. Father’s staff was already preparing for the influx of people who’d seek shelter in Roslo when the crux flew.

Except if that was the case, why would King Ramsey leave them unprotected now? Even if the crux came earlier than predicted, there was still time for people to relocate. The migration wouldn’t happen until spring.

Unless it had nothing to do with the migration.

“Does he want them to move to the cities to be safe? Or watched?”

Cathlin tapped her temple. “Smart girl.”

Did this have anything to do with the militia? “Cathlin, what is—”

“Shh.” She whirled, her hand gripping my arm as she scanned the street.

I turned, trying to figure out what had put her on alert.

The sound of clinking bells came from all directions. The bells by every door. They weren’t to announce visitors. They were warning bells.

The little boy in the yard tossed his stick sword aside and sprinted for the door.

“Come with me.” Cathlin pulled once on my arm, then let me go as she began to jog down the street.

People ran toward us, like we were swimming against the current in a stream. Each person ran to a house, shutting themselves inside.

“To the inn,” she said. “Hurry.”

I ran with her, holding my satchel so it wouldn’t bounce. If an entire town had panicked, it could only mean one thing.

Monsters.

A series of clicks bounced from building to building, so loud I cupped my hands over my ears.

I knew those clicks. I’d heard them on a dark, terrifying night.

There were bariwolves in Ashmore.