Hi! Thanks for visiting my blog :) This is part five of a little story I'm writing. For anyone who is new here, I would recommend you start at part one and work your way through. Happy reading!
I lean back against the tree, watching. Andrew's face is screwed up in concentration, though he is not doing anything visible to the naked eye - or at least, to mine. The surrounding wizards watch intently, able to see the flow of magic that I cannot.
Without warning, Andrew yells and crumples.
"Better," Breg says, offering him a hand up. "You still need practice, but you're learning fast."
I hop up and go over to Andrew. "You're doing well," I say, though in truth I have no idea how he is doing apart from what others tell me. "I'm proud of you."
He leans into me, still breathing hard from the exercise. "Love you," he murmurs.
"You too," I say, breathing in the smell of him.
"Ok, let's get back to -"
Breg is cut off by the sound of a horn in the distance. I sigh. Really? Again?
It is a resigned air more than a panicked one that fills the camp. Everyone drops what they are doing and hurries to their sleeping quarters to start packing. I follow Andrew to our room, grumbling under my breath.
We have been hidden in the training grounds for three months and in that time we have had to move twice. The king's men are always trying to kill off the wizards, so we have to be constantly alert. Living as fugitives for the crime of having magic means speed is life.
In less than fifteen minutes, we packed and moving. Horses are hastily saddled and we assemble into a long column. Together, there are about fifty of us. Though most wizards are men, there are a few women, some of whom prefer to call themselves sorceresses. No one much minds what they call themselves, as long as they do their duties.
"Andrew, can you take the back?" Breg calls.
"Will do," Andrew says, looking excited. I bite my lip. People at the back are the closest to the king's men. Still, it is an important job, erasing our tracks with magic. We'd never survive without it.
I follow Andrew to the very end of the column. "Megs, what are you doing?"
"Breg said we're at the back."
"No, Breg said I'm at the back. You don't have magic; you should stay in the middle like everyone else like you."
I ignore him. Andrew must know there is no way I am leaving him alone. I am not the only one here without magic - many friends and families risked everything to bring their loved ones here when their magic started to consume them from within. Others were not so lucky; others' families abandoned them.
Andrew must see the shadow in my eyes, because he doesn't argue, but takes my hand as we walk towards our horses. I think back. When his family found out Andrew had magic, they abandoned him for death, shutting him out of the house. I was all he had. For a while, we thought that wasn't enough; we thought we wouldn't make it.
I am interrupted in my thoughts by the start of the move. We set off at a brisk trot. We always have more hidden camps lined up. The first thing scouts do is look for a new place to move to when we are inevitably discovered. We sometimes last a while, but we have to move eventually.
Andrew looks wistfully back at the camp. "You liked this one," I state.
"It's not this one in particular. I like having some place to call home. Is this the rest of our lives?" He gestures around to the changing scenery. "Will we ever be able to live without looking over our shoulders?"
"It's life," I say softly. "When all's said and done, we're lucky to have that much."
Andrew brings his horse slightly closer to mine so that he can rest his hand on my shoulder. "You're right. Of course you are. We're both lucky to be alive."
Still, as we head on, I see that Andrew is not saying everything. I was always the better one for adapting to change. This has hit him much harder than me. He's fine now, but what about ten, fifteen, twenty years from now? Will he still be fine? Or will this fitful life of fear and running finally break him?
As I watch him, an icy chill runs up my spine. I realise I don't know the answer.
To be continued
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