Trinity (11 page)

“
Will you let
me sew it up for you?”

The
question
sounded
innocent enough, except it had come from the mouth of a Wolf.
Nidan pressed his lips together and shook his head. The same offer
had been made every evening. Made and declined. He had to travel
with the Wolf; he had to be civil in front of Kiana; he’d even been
forced to let the Wolf watch over him while he slept. But that
didn’t mean that he was going to let an enemy stitch up his wounds:
having to allow the Wolf to help with the bandages was degrading
enough.

The Wolf stared at Nidan for a
moment longer and then rolled his eyes. “I’ll get a fire going.” He
moved away into the forest, collecting fallen branches as he
went.

There was no shortage of
forests in Gettryne: the twelve Noble Lords all kept large ones for
firewood and hunting game.

“
You should
let Skaric stitch you up.” Kiana held a leather saddlebag in her
hands. “We’re almost out of bandages.”

Nidan wasn’t worried about
himself. He was worried about her. At that moment, sunlight falling
through the forest canopy was creating dappled pools of green on
her skin and lank hair. Combined with the dust, dirt and muck that
were ingrained into her skin, she looked almost inhuman. Her eyes
looked larger, her body slightly thinner. It was painfully obvious
by the way she walked—slightly bow-legged thanks to saddle
sores—that she had no experience of spending long hours riding, or
of sleeping on dirt and branches and subsisting on trail
rations.

Nidan shook his head and turned
his back on her to undo the girth buckles. “We’ll reach Norlea
tomorrow. We can get bandages there.” His voice was unnecessarily
gruff.

Kiana appeared beside Nidan as
he lifted the saddle off the horse’s back. “With what money?”

He grimaced. She was right, of
course. They had no money. They had left the tower in too much of a
rush, and there had been none in the Wolves’ packs—unsurprising as
no one in Gettryne would trade or sell anything to a Wolf. Nidan
ran his hand over his chin thoughtfully. He could feel the soft
covering of a new beard. Wasn’t it enough that he was travelling
with a Wolf without starting to look like one too?

“
What happens
if your wound gets dirty, Nidan?”

Nidan moved away from the horse
and dumped the saddle on the ground with the others. The Wolf had
unsaddled the other two horses as soon as they had stopped; he
worked quickly when it came to settling his and Kiana’s horses each
night. Nidan should have been grateful that he was spared the
work.

“
I could get
sick.”

“
Could?”

Nidan sighed loudly. “I
probably would.”

Kiana placed her hand on his
cheek. “What good are you to me if you’re sick?”

He gritted his
teeth.
None. None at all.

“
Don’t let
your pride put you in danger.” Kiana dropped her hand and gazed at
him sadly. “Or your hatred.”

Nidan growled
through his teeth. “He’s a
Wolf
.”

“
Yes.”

“
I don’t trust
him.”

Kiana looked away from him and
sat down on the floor. She began to pull out some strips of the
dried meat that Nidan had come to hate.

“
We’re running
out of food too.” She held a strip of meat out to him. “Skaric has
had plenty of chances to kill us.”

Nidan didn’t need reminding of
that.

“
But he
hasn’t. Surely he’s earned some trust?” She held the meat out to
him a moment longer and then began to eat it herself.

Nidan ground his teeth together
even harder. He didn’t want to trust the Wolf. He wanted to hate
the Wolf.

He looked up as the Wolf
returned to the clearing, arms laden down with twigs and kindling.
On top of the pile of firewood were several tiny star-like white
flowers. Each stalk had a dozen of the flowers and narrow green
leaves.

Nidan walked over as the Wolf
placed the flowers aside and began to build up a fire. “What are
the flowers for?” He wrinkled his nose as he breathed in a delicate
smell that was both sour and sweet at the same time.

The Wolf glanced up at him.
“You boil the leaves up in water and then spread it over the
horses; flies hate it.”

Nidan could see why. The
flowers stank. On the other hand, flies had plagued them each day.
He would take smelling badly over being nibbled on by flies.

The Wolf paused, holding a twig
just above the thatched pile he had been building. “It’s also good
for cleaning things: like a needle and thread.”

Nidan felt a muscle in his
cheek twitch. He glared at the Wolf, knitting his eyebrows together
in anger.

The Wolf looked at Kiana, who
was still sitting beside the saddles. “Could you look through the
saddlebags? I’m sure I saw some cooking equipment in one of
them.”

Kiana looked at Nidan and then
at the Wolf. “A metal bowl?”

The Wolf nodded. Kiana smiled
and pushed herself onto her knees so that she could look through
the saddlebags.

The Wolf leaned forward,
towards Nidan. “Swallow your pride.” His voice was little more than
a whisper, but there was a hint of anger in it.

Nidan continued to glare at the
Wolf who sat back and reached into his pocket for a flint and
steel. Why didn’t he just use his magic to light the fire?

It took the Wolf three attempts
to get a large enough spark to light the curls of bark that he had
used as kindling. As the flames began to take hold, the dry wood
popped and crackled loudly. Tiny flames curled up into the
darkening sky before dissipating in the air. Almost immediately,
Nidan felt the warmth of the fire on his skin. It was the first
night that they had dared to light a fire, for fear that Wolves
would see the smoke. Nidan edged away from the flames slightly. The
evening was warm enough.

Kiana smiled at them both as
she returned with a metal bowl, a water flask, three metal rods and
a ring. “These looked useful,” she said as she placed everything
down in front of the Wolf. “I’m sure I saw something similar in one
of my tutor’s books.” She dipped her gaze to the ground as her
shoulders slumped slightly.

Nidan’s heart sank with hers.
Her tutor was probably dead, like everyone else who had been in
Blackoak Tower.

The Wolf smiled as he picked
the rods up and slotted them through the ring, creating a tripod.
He placed it over the fire and sat the bowl on top. Nidan couldn’t
help but smile as a grin slowly spread across Kiana’s face. He
watched as the Wolf poured water into the bowl and then began to
tear the leaves off of the flower stems, ripping each one into
several pieces before dropping them into the water.

“
That stinks!”
Kiana said, her whole face wrinkling comically.

The Wolf smiled. “Better to
smell than be eaten alive!”

Nidan looked away and stared at
the spongy green moss that covered the ground. Why couldn’t the
Wolf be more different from himself? Wolves were monsters; he
didn’t want to have anything in common with one.

“
So, shall I
fetch a needle and thread or not?” The Wolf’s eyebrows were raised
expectantly as he stared at Nidan.

Nidan didn’t look up. “I don’t
want your help.”

“
I know. But
you need it.”

Nidan ground
his teeth together again, his cheek muscles aching with the effort.
He had
never
imagined that he would be forced to accept so much help from
his enemy.

“
Skaric’s
right, Nidan,” Kiana said quietly.

Of course, he
was right. That only made it harder for Nidan to carry on refusing.
Was it pride or hate? Kiana was probably right in thinking it was a
mixture of both. And why shouldn’t he hate the Wolf? All Wolves did
was murder indiscriminately and destroy
everything
they came into contact
with. What made the man in front of him any different?

Nidan lifted his head and
glared at them both. “Fine. I need your help. Are you happy now?”
He expected to see a look of triumph in the Wolf’s eyes. Failing
that, anger. But he saw neither. What he saw was sadness.

The Wolf shook his head, stood
and headed over to the saddlebags. Nidan stared at the water in the
bowl, which was beginning to bubble and spit noisily.

“
He’s trying
to help,” Kiana whispered. “You could
try
to be a little nicer.”

She was right. Pios, why did
she have to be right?

Nidan kept his mouth firmly
shut as the Wolf returned with a long length of thick thread, a
large metal needle and a swab of cloth. He dropped the cloth into
the bowl and then threaded the needle. Holding on to the very end
of the thread, the Wolf dipped both into the mixture of boiling
water and leaves.

He looked up at Nidan.
“Ready?”

No.
Nidan tugged his shirt over his head and carefully
unwound the bandage around his chest. After a day of travelling in
the summer heat, the bandage had become grey and grimy with
sweat.

“
Kiana, could
you hold the thread?” the Wolf asked.

Kiana edged closer to the fire.
Once he had given her the thread, the Wolf used the end of a stick
to fish the swab back out of the water. Tentatively, he picked it
up and moved across to Nidan.

“
This might
sting.”

Nidan looked up at the
maze-like canopy and kept his teeth clenched together. He flinched
as the hot swab touched the wound and almost knocked the Wolf’s
hand away as he felt a stinging pain. Instead, he panted against
the pain. Nidan glanced down and watched as the Wolf cleaned away
the fresh blood and pus before throwing the dirty swab into the
fire. A bright orange flame flashed up in a column, briefly making
the air even warmer. Next, the Wolf took the end of the thread from
Kiana and lifted the needle and the rest of the thread from the
water.

He looked
Nidan in the eyes. “And this
will
hurt.”

Nidan curled his hands into the
moss as the needle pierced his skin. He pressed his lips together
and stared upwards again, blinking back tears as the Wolf continued
to work quickly and methodically. At least, they would have a
reasonably comfortable night sleeping on a moss mattress.

“
We will find
answers in Norlea, won’t we?” Kiana asked.

Nidan was glad of the diversion
her words gave him. “I told you, the original temple still
exists.”

The Wolf paused, holding the
needle and thread slack. He glanced at Kiana and chewed his lower
lip. “Is it safe for you to go into the village?”

Kiana blinked quickly and sat
up a bit straighter.

Nidan shifted his weight ever
so slightly. “He means your eyes.” He looked at the Wolf. “Only the
Guardians and priests know how to recognise the incarnation of
Miale. No one will know who she is.”

A small bead of blood formed on
the Wolf’s lip. “We knew.” He averted his eyes.

How had the Wolves known? Who
had they tortured and killed to get such a secret piece of
information? Nidan shivered and clenched his teeth again. “No one
will recognise Kiana.”

The Wolf nodded and carried on.
He’d barely completed one stitch before pausing again. “How long do
you think you’ll need to spend in the village?”

Nidan shrugged and winced in
pain.

“
Hold
still.”

“
What do you
mean?” Kiana asked. “We’re all going into the village.”

Nidan gasped as the Wolf tugged
a little too hard on the thread as he completed a stitch. It was
the first mistake he’d made.

“
I can’t go
into that village, Kiana.”

“
Why
not?”

“
Because he’s
a Wolf,” Nidan said.

“
You mean
because he
looks
like a Wolf?” Kiana stared at the Wolf. “We can change that.
It’s only your hair and your beard.”

The Wolf leant forward and
snapped the end of the thread with his teeth. Nidan could see the
tension in the Wolf’s face and shoulders as he rocked back onto his
heels.

“
I
can’t
come with you. I’ll
wait for you.” The Wolf turned his attention back to the bowl of
boiling water and leaves. “It’s late, we should all get some
sleep.”

Kiana looked up at Nidan, her
brow furrowed. “I suppose I wouldn’t want to change the way I
look,” she said doubtfully. “Would you?”

Nidan looked down at his
tattered uniform. He still felt a thrill of pride that he was
wearing the Guardian uniform at all; it didn’t matter to him that
it was wrecked. He shook his head. Nothing would make him want to
hide who he was.

He looked down at his side
wound. The stitches were small and neat, the wound clean. As part
of his training, Nidan had been taught field medicine and how to do
stitches. His had never been neat. There had been no point in
practising when he could use magic to repair the wounds of others.
Apparently, he’d taken a lot for granted.

Chapter
Seven

The sun was rising just above
the horizon as Berend limped across the camp towards the six men
that he had handpicked to travel with him. He had refused the
crutch that Brokk had tried to foist upon him; a crutch would have
made him look weak. Moisture clung to the stony ground in tiny
droplets, shimmering a rainbow of colours as the sunlight struck
them. Its beauty was lost on Berend. He had already wasted too much
time. Why did Brokk have to treat grown men like snivelling
children? As soon as he had been allowed back on his feet, he had
been ordered to oversee their withdrawal from the tower. He had led
the Wolves north to rocky terrain in the foothills of mountains
that were regarded as inhospitable by the people of Gettryne.