PACK ANIMAL DUTY WASN’T a popular assignment among the soldiers. Most had little love for the animals’ smell and slow progress—not to mention the heaps of dung, with which Sev was well-acquainted—so nobody argued when he signed up for it day after day.
While he was frustrated about being given an assignment he didn’t understand, Kade appeared downright furious. He seemed to take it as a personal offense, as if Sev were somehow undercutting his authority or encroaching on his territory.
Was his hatred as simple as their separate roles, bondservant and soldier? Sev had hated soldiers once. They were the thundering footsteps in Aura Nova alleyways, the looming shadows on the doorsteps of every orphanage and cookhouse. They were the waves on the beach of the Pyraean border, lapping ever closer, until they’d poured over the hills and overrun his family’s farm.
Sev still hated soldiers, truth be known. And somehow he’d become one of them.
He couldn’t blame Kade for how he felt, and while neither of them was happy with the arrangement, they didn’t have a choice in the matter.
The one overwhelming positive was being near animals again. The llamas were sure-footed beasts, used primarily in the mountains, with long necks and sturdy padded feet. They reminded him a bit of the woolly, mild-mannered sheep his family had herded when he was a child.
Most of the time. He’d almost been bitten on more than one occasion and by more than one llama—though he’d begun to suspect one fellow in particular had a taste for him.
Sev knew it was risky, but he couldn’t help interacting with the creatures . . . just a little. A pat here, a nudge there, and before he knew it, he was helping with saddles and filling water troughs. The other soldiers assigned to pack animal duty stared incredulously at the extra work he was doing, but as far as Sev could tell, they thought he was trying to gain attention and approval from superior officers and not relishing in his contact with the animals.
To Sev’s surprise, he was enjoying his time with the bondservants as well.
At first the sight of them caused an ache in his chest, and it took a while for Sev to recognize it as envy. He knew it was strange for a free man to be envious of people forced into servitude, but as someone who had always hidden his abilities, he found being around animages who used their magic so openly was like watching someone guzzle gulps of cool water while he died of thirst.
Now Sev found their presence comforting. The thrum of magic, the hard but gratifying labor, and the way the humans and animals worked together—it all reminded him of his time on the farm. Tilla and Corem had herded sheep, the same as Sev’s family, while the youngest bondservant of the bunch, nicknamed Junior, was from the small village near where Sev had grown up, and his family were fishermen. Or at least they had been.
“Don’t know where they are now,” Junior told him one day as they filled the water troughs. He had coloring and features similar to Kade, so much so that they could almost be brothers, except where Kade was tall and muscular, Junior was lanky and thin, all elbows and knees. “Empire got me before dawn, when I was checkin’ the nets. I never saw my family again.”
Sev realized he was lucky to know what had happened to his parents; even though they were gone, he knew they were at peace and not in bondage elsewhere. Though Junior was young, from what Sev understood, his parents had made a decent living selling their fish, and his term was seven years—half his life. While Sev often pitied the bondservants, Junior’s story made him angry, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Trix might have intended for him to have these kinds of feelings. He guessed that she’d posted him with the bondservants to show Sev to whom his loyalties should belong. He was exactly like them. And yet, because of his choice to deny himself and his magic, he was free, and they were not.
Of course Sev wished life could be different. If the war hadn’t happened, he would have been a sheepherder and a farmer, and every animage in the empire and beyond would be free. There would be no “mageslaves,” the Phoenix Riders would have remained glorious—distant—heroes, and both his parents would still be alive.
But life wasn’t different, and Sev’s decision had saved him from bondage. How could he regret it?
While Kade was as gruff with Sev as ever, he completely transformed when he interacted with the llamas. His face—his entire being—lit up when he was with them, murmuring reassurances and praise and interacting so subtly and skillfully that Sev was more than a little bit impressed. He was clearly the strongest animage of the bunch, someone who had been using his magic since birth.
Sev liked this side of him. He was usually so grim—even hostile—but with the animals, the stiff line of his shoulders relaxed, and his severe features softened into delighted smiles and gentle laughter. It made Sev want to be near him, to watch and bask in the warm light of his magical glow. But whenever Kade saw Sev close by, he’d scowl and turn away, and Sev would reluctantly do the same. He wished he could understand why Kade disliked him so much and find a way to quell the animosity between them.
Early one morning Sev scrambled from his bedroll just before dawn. The soldiers had camped in the shadows of a steep cliff next to a series of ruined structures. While they’d left the Pilgrimage Road far behind, they did sometimes find themselves on twisting stonework paths that would appear as if out of nowhere only to be swallowed by the forest moments later. There were broken archways made from rectangular blocks of stone, strange pillars engraved with unfamiliar geometric patterns, and crumbled statues standing guard along the way, so old and weatherworn that it was impossible to tell what they were supposed to be or who had built them in the first place. Sev had heard Corem say the word “Sekveia”—the Second Road—which was supposed to be a mythical route through the wilds of Pyrmont. When he was small, Sev and the other farmers’ children would go exploring in the Foothills, searching for the beginning of the legendary Second Road and the treasures it supposedly led to. Using it now as an empire soldier felt like some sick, twisted version of the childhood fantasy—especially if the “treasure” they sought at the end of this path was the Phoenix Riders’ hidden lair.
Noise had awoken him, and when he squinted toward the pack animals, he saw Kade already starting his work for the day. He was hauling sacks of grain and barrels of water, his breath swirling around his face. He’d removed his tunic, and steam rose from his body in the cool morning air, his chain glinting in the pale dawn sun.