There were sounds outside, footsteps and voices, quiet but still audible. Servants tending to the morning chores. You’re going to have to get us out of here. Us. What was the consequence of stealing a vala from her master? There was no time to wonder. It was now or never. Tola had done her part, had kept Sibba alive, and now it was up to Sibba to get them out of there.
She struggled to her feet, weak but steady, and approached a horse nearest to her, hand extended. The horse nuzzled her palm, looking for a treat, while Sibba slipped a bridle over his head, the bit going easily into his mouth. It was a docile creature, but strong and tall. They would both fit easily in the curve of his back. She led him out of his stall and to the door, and then hoisted the dormant Tola onto his back, draping her arms around the horse’s neck.
Opening the barn door the rest of the way, Sibba peeked out. The sun was just rising to her left, and the path south looked clear. They weren’t far from the southern gate, and the sentries looked sluggish and slow in the early morning light.
“All right,” Sibba said to no one in particular, preparing to pull herself onto the horse’s back. But then Aeris made a noise and Sibba looked around to where she stood. Beside her on the ground was Tola’s staff. Sibba hesitated. Could she touch it? Would something happen to her? To Tola? But she couldn’t leave it here.
She scolded herself for her silliness. Of course nothing would happen. It was just a stick. But then her hand touched her side. Wasn’t it? She picked up the staff and swung up onto the horse behind Tola, wrapping her arms around the vala’s small waist. The horse’s coat was slick beneath her, but she had been riding her whole life. She squeezed her legs to hold them steady, bracing herself for pain that never came. Tola had made thorough work of her healing, however she had done it.
“Hey!” The shout came from the door and a servant appeared carrying a pail of slop, looking up at them on the horse’s back. “What do you think you’re doing?” The door was wide open behind him and Sibba kicked. The horse surged forward and the servant threw himself to the side to avoid being trampled, the slop spilling over the edge of the bucket. He was shouting, but Sibba couldn’t hear. She was already gone.
The horse barreled down a small alley and she urged him left, through a yard and around a group of women carrying water buckets. The women flung curses at her back as the horse kicked up dirt, and then shouted in surprise when Aeris skimmed over their heads. They were almost at the gate. The sentries had noticed her but hadn’t quite understood yet. The gate was still open and she was under it before the first guard sounded the alarm, and several yards away before the first volley of arrows thunked harmlessly in the ground around her.
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She slowed the horse to a walk only when she was sure they weren’t being pursued. When Tola began to stir, they stopped at a creek and dismounted. Sibba broke the frozen top layer with the ax handle and Tola drank deeply from the chilled water beneath. When she had her fill and leaned back against a nearby tree, Sibba drank, too, then sat back on her heels and looked down at herself.
She was disgusting. There was no sense denying it. She listened for a moment; there was only the sound of Tola’s shallow breathing and a gentle breeze rustling bare branches. Satisfied that the Endar guards had written her off as nothing more than a common thief not worth pursuing, she pulled her shirt over her head and examined it. It had been a deep blue once but now was brown with dirt and dried blood. She put it to the side and used her cupped hands to splash water over her torso. The scar was long and jagged. She brought a hand up to her cheek and wondered if it was just as ugly.
Tola was beside her suddenly, her frigid fingers covering Sibba’s, pressing their hands against her cheek. “Who did this?”
“Evenon,” Sibba answered, the name bitter on her lips. She should have known. She never should have let herself trust him.
Tola grunted and leaned back, her eyes focused on some spot over Sibba's head. “I should have known,” she said, echoing Sibba's own thoughts. “I felt the darkness around him but we all have our darkness, don’t we?” Tola was absentmindedly scrubbing at Sibba’s back with wet hands, working up to her shoulders until they were in her hair, picking at spots of something. Gods, was she picking out vomit?
Sibba's teeth chattered together as a chilled breeze froze the water on her skin, but she managed to say, “My fault. You…you saved me. What did you do?”
“I healed you with my energy. Some people call it spirit-healing.”
“Spirit?”
Tola bent to examine the scar. Sibba shivered again, but not because of the cold this time. “That’s what valas are meant to do,” Tola said almost absently. Lithe fingers pressed against her abdomen. The fine, downy hair on Tola’s arms tickled the sensitive skin there. “Use our connection with the spirits to heal, not harm. But my mother and Chief Grimsson have corrupted our way of life. That is why I feel I must come with you.”
“Why?”
“Estrid told me everything. Where you’re going and why. I will help you, but you have to take me with you when you leave the Fields.”
“Why me?” Sibba asked.
“Because I think you have the power to make a difference. You saw me. You called to me. You survived.”
Together they worked to clean her up, and then she reluctantly slipped back into the dirty shirt. There was no time to wash it, and she had lost her spare on the Malstrom.
“Come on,” Tola said. “We have to find Estrid.” Tola hauled her to her feet. Though Tola was as tall as Sibba, she was much thinner, her arms bony and straining beneath Sibba's weight.
“It will be dangerous,” Sibba said, stepping away from Tola and gathering up the stolen horse’s reins. “Especially with Evenon working against us, and your mother in Ydurgat.”
“But it will be less dangerous for you with a vala at your side. I may not agree with my mother’s methods, but I am no less powerful.”
Sibba swung herself onto the horse’s bare back and then reached down for Tola. The vala stared up at her. Her eyes were a shocking green in the light of the noon-day sun. When she put her fingers in Sibba’s hand, Sibba felt something light in some deep, hidden place inside of her. Tola was sturdy enough to hang on now, so she slid on behind Sibba and wrapped her arms around her waist, her hands meeting just at the scar on Sibba’s abdomen. It felt like flint striking metal, then a spark became a flame, burning in her belly.
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They rode through the afternoon, reaching the forest just as night fell and the moon, driven by its god, Narchos, eternally searching for his lover, Fusilis of the sun, peeked over the eastern ridge before they disappeared into a copse of trees. It wasn't until they were several yards into the darkness that the flickering light of a fire came into view. A figure rose in alarm and then sagged with relief. Estrid dropped the stick she had been using to poke at the kindling and came forward to wrap Sibba in her arms.