Wicked is the Curse.

16 | The forest planted by gods.

Chapter 16 | The forest planted by gods.

Again, the five Wielders travelled together.

The days were long and brutal once more, but there were no chains weighing them down. They rose as the sun did, travelling along dirt roads and across fields. They avoided the roads when they could, hoping to avoid drawing un-necessary attention. At night, they slept without fires and the Aether soldiers kept watch. Aire tried to stay awake, distrusting of these strangers but exhaustion was a convincing whisper and she slept, hard and heavy through the cold nights.

Three days into their journey, they reached one of their hiding-houses. There, were fresh clothes and horses. Aire could have wept as she peeled off her boots. Brice's healing had also fixed her feet, but her stocaí were crusted to her skin by blood that had wept from the sores cut into her skin from the harsh days of walking.

Laochra handed Aire the reigns of a sweet mare. Her coat was as dark as night, her nose velvet soft as she nuzzled Aire's open palm. Aire's throat tightened as she stroked the mare's long face.

"Beautiful girl," She whispered.

She had spent her childhood on horseback when she could, hoofs thundering over great rolling fields of green, the cold breath of dawn in her lungs. In Irial, there was no need for horses in the close confines of the streets. "What is her name?"

Laochra patted the mare's neck. "Oíche."

"E-ha." Aire sounded the name. The mare looked at her, ears perked. Aire smiled, blowing softly on her nose. "That is you, isn't it sweet girl?"

"How did you know to hide enough horses for all of us?" Brice trailed a hand down her horse's neck, her voice soft and reverent. Her horse watched us all curiously, nostrils wide.

One of the Aether soldiers simply turned away. Sloane answered, her voice curt. "We had thought there would be four Wielders. The rest of these horses belonged to the others who had risked the journey with us."

Brice fell silent, eyes wide as she stared at the Aether soldier. Sloane simply inclined her chin and began whispering to her own mount in a low voice, the first flicker of affection appearing on her face.

As the horses were saddled, the freed Wielders ate slices of brown soda bread skimmed with butter. Aire hummed as she tasted the thin layer of jam that Laochra had spread over her slice. It had been stored in the hiding-house and had gone hard, but to Aire in that moment, it was the most delicious thing she had ever eaten.

They mounted their horses and the procession left the small close behind, leaving only a trace of bread crumbs. On horseback, they flew over the land. They kept to the small roads, traversing open fields where they could and avoiding the main road.

As they travelled, the land seemed to grow healthier. Gone was the obvious rot of the farmlands lining the root to the Empire's main city Kolath. Still, the Aether soldiers tutted.

"The rot is spreading. Soon, the entire Empire will be plunged into starvation."

Aire thought of the Bloodbound then, annoyed that she didn't know why he had spared her. Had risked his life for her, even.

The pace gave her little chance to get to know the others, and truly, Aire did not wish to speak to the Aether. It had always been one of her things, like her nosiness as a child. A slight by her sisters was not easily stamped out. A betrayal – well, she had many of those to light the fire inside her heart. Love would not warm it, so hatred must. Even if it did burn her from the inside.