Grrake fell silent. Not for long. “I just…I can’t let you keep trying to, to throw your life away. Please. Please don’t do that to yourself, to Talea…to the Wardens and wards…or to me.”
There was a tremble in his hands, no matter how tightly he clenched them. He couldn’t bring himself to look Grrake in the eye, or speak, or even so much as straighten his hunched posture. The heat in his face wouldn’t go away, yet a chill crawled down his spine like icy fingers.
Neither spoke. At first neither moved, until Grrake mutely returned to rubbing salve on Yhkon’s back. Yhkon wished he wouldn’t. It hardly made him feel any less…less…less of whatever he was feeling. If he could be engulfed by some black hole, some wonderfully empty void, he would. If there was any way to escape this, he would take it.
Except there was only one way he knew, and it was exactly what Grrake was pleading with him against.
He wondered how much of their conversation had been heard by the others. The last part had been held in quieter tones, hopefully too quiet to be overheard. As for the rest…what did it matter. The other Wardens were perfectly aware of his problems, it was one of the reasons why they and everyone else disliked him. The wards might as well figure it out too. Though they were probably deeper sleepers.
What a wretched business. It was his responsibility as lead Warden that kept him going, yet it seemed to throw constant new miseries at him, too. In a way, it had taken Tessa from him.
His eyelids were growing heavy. A dull ache throbbed in his chest. Weary. He felt weary, the same feeling he’d seen in Grrake’s eyes.
Perhaps he should have been consumed with his usual anger, or flaying Grrake for taking such liberties, or maybe even grieved and stricken. But he wasn’t. He was sluggish. Remote. Passively listening in on his tormented thoughts, recalling the events that brought them on, knowing he couldn’t do anything about it. He had no indignation toward Grrake anymore.
“There’s not much more I can do for this tonight.” Grrake’s tone sounded much as Yhkon felt. “You should drink more water, then go to sleep.”
His first thought was to agree. Sleep. It had been what, four days since he’d had anything more than dozing in the saddle? But that wasn’t what left his mouth. “The sun will be up in an hour or two. I might as well—”
“Yhkon.” He’d heard that tone before—it always made Grrake sound fatherly. “Go to sleep. We’ll leave a couple hours later, and it will hardly be a setback.” When Yhkon didn’t immediately accept, he grabbed his arm to pull him to his feet. “Come on. You can sleep in my bed. You must be tired, just get some rest.”
It would take too much energy to object. And he wouldn’t be much good to anyone as sleep deprived as he was. So he limped his way to the Warden’s tent, found the unoccupied bed, and let himself collapse into it.
12
Wards and Wardens
T alea woke early, thirsty and in need of an excursion to the woods. Or…not early? Sunlight was peeping through tears in the tarp. She took a swig from her canteen, dressed in her pants and shirt, put her boots on, and slipped out of the tent, managing to not wake Terindi or Kae.
Sure enough, the sun was up outside, the sky blue. It must have been nearing seven o’clock, yet the Wardens usually woke them for training at six. Only Grrake was in sight, having been the last one on shift.
There weren’t any woods around, as it was, but the girls had designated a sheltered spot for the same purpose. It was a short walk from camp. As she was returning, Tarol ducked out from the Wardens’ shelter, greeting Grrake cheerfully. “Say, Grrake, there’s a bloody, shirtless, scraggly sort of fellow in our tent, in your bed no less. Starting on quite a beard, too. And so unfriendly that when I gave him a nudge he slapped my arm and said some very unkind words.”
Her feet wavered in their path. Something was wrong with Grrake. His head hung low, eyes distant, not even the faintest of his usual smile or gentle expression. “Leave him be.” His voice was even more tired than he looked. “He needs sleep. We’ll leave a couple hours late.”
Tarol sobered. Probably out of concern more for Grrake than for Yhkon. “Is he hurt? Other than those burns?”
“No, just…” Grrake trailed off, looking even more despondent than before.
Without further questions, Tarol simply sat down by the glowing embers of the previous night’s fire. Talea continued walking, quieting her tread, more out of reverence for Grrake’s affliction than everyone else’s sleep. She sat down beside him. His grief was as tangible as if it were an ache in her own chest.
The other wards and the Wardens gradually began drifting out of their tents. The Wardens must have known the situation, probably having heard Yhkon return during the night or finding him in their tent in the morning, because none of them asked questions. The wards did, which she answered with the limited information she had. Grrake left not long after she woke, meandering away from the camp and out of sight. She noticed Larak frequently glancing the way he had gone, before eventually sighing and following him.
A breakfast of oatmeal and some dried fruit was made, eaten, and cleaned up as quietly as possible. Ahjul, Tarol, Resh, Haeric, and Gustor didn’t seem entirely sure what to do with the wards in the absence of their three leaders. Eventually they decided to take them a ways off from the tent where Yhkon slept, and do some light training.
Grrake and Larak returned at nine o'clock, saying it was time to get going. Grrake was doing a better job of hiding his emotions, and took up his role as temporary leader. When instructions had been given, Talea moved to join Kae and Terindi in taking down their shelter, but Grrake’s hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Talea, actually, would you go wake Yhkon?”
The request sounded oddly similar to “Would you go wake a hungry dragon?” She squeezed her lower lip between her teeth, shooting a glance at the Warden’s tent, the only one not yet being dismantled. “Okay, but why—”
“He and I argued last night,” came the explanation, blunt, tired. “And he’ll feel uncomfortable or uneasy with the other Wardens. Not with you.”
It was probably supposed to be some sort of compliment, or privilege. Talea the hungry dragon waker. “Alright.” She managed a small nod and smile for him and approached the dragon’s lair.
Inside, Yhkon was something she’d never seen him: asleep. He had always woken at the slightest noise, or just been awake in the first place. Now, he was dead to the world. A blanket covered most of him, but his bare shoulders were exposed, allowing her to see the gruesomely blistered, fevered skin. Burns were somehow more upsetting than other wounds. If there hadn’t been a knot in her stomach before, there was now.
She crouched next to him, trying to decide the best way to wake him. Verbally or by touch? Oh just do it…She said his name just above a whisper, her fingertips barely pressing on his arm. At a lack of response, she gave him a more substantial nudge.
He was sitting up and reaching for his sword before his eyes had even finished opening. “Wait, Yhkon, it’s just me!” She gripped his arm even as she leaned backward instinctively.