Part III: The Stage is Set

VIII

                Hawkeye had wondered at the wisdom of teaching swordsmanship to children. But he had rationalized that it was worth it just to keep him sharp, and if they learned something along the way, no harm done.

                Now, it was proving rather useful.

                The Shadows rode into Torren just as dusk was setting in. Hawkeye ordered his unit to the inn, under strict instructions to drink no ale and to get some rest. He would wake them one hour before dawn. Hawkeye did not head for the inn. He debated riding out to the farm, fighting with the fact that he had accomplished little since his departure two years before. In the end, his decision was made by Rhona, who suggested he take Whisper and Nox back to their paddock.

                As he crested the last hill, Hawkeye saw light ahead of him and immediately panicked, flashing back to three years ago, when the first raiding party had come through. Hawkeye had been late in the village, training the children, and came over this very rise to see their house aflame.

                As he approached the house now, he saw that there was no immediate danger; the light was a torch stuck in the ground a few feet from the door. Hawkeye let the horses into the paddock he had helped build, pausing when he heard a noise. Whisper tensed, pressed against the fence with her blue eyes fixed on a figure in the darkness, delicate hooves pawing at the earth.

                Two pinpricks of light gleamed at him from just behind the hut. He heard the rumble of a growl before he drew his sword and strode purposefully towards the structure.

                The door was opened before he could reach it. Two men he didn’t recognize came out of the house, each armed with a bow, arrows notched and aimed at his throat. Both wore Cyrenian uniforms. Hawkeye’s breath escaped his lips in an exasperated sigh. It irked him how many brushes with death he’d had on this property. He sheathed his sword, noticing that the eyes had disappeared into the darkness.

                “Where is he?” he asked, almost afraid of the answer.

                “In here,” came the exceedingly disgruntled voice of Zar from the darkness of the house.

                “Are you alright?”

                “Aside from the knife pressed to my throat?”

                Zar’s form emerged through the doorway. He looked at Hawkeye with a peevish expression. “I seem to remember telling you not to be so risky with your life, Hawkeye.”

                Hawkeye turned his hands over in a helpless gesture. “What can I say? I’m a terrible listener.”

                “Please stop making a joke of this. I’m trying to hold a hostage, here.” Hawkeye suppressed a snort, registering with surprise that the voice was decidedly female. Zar’s captor came out behind him.

                The young woman was as tall as Zar, but not nearly as tall as Hawkeye. As she stepped into the light, Hawkeye could feel his mind churning, trying to decide how he knew the girl. She was slender but tough-looking, with flaming red hair. He couldn’t quite tell in this light, but it looked as though her eyes were a very pale blue. It was her eyes that clicked with him, the same blue eyes of a captain he knew well. “Rhys, almighty!” he exclaimed.

*              *              *

                After a year in the army, Seeker became the first woman to captain a unit. She was also the only woman in her unit. In the first week, she had been teased, harassed, goaded, yelled at and disobeyed. Only once did one of her men attempt to harm her.

                Seeker was running a drill in the woods near the river. The men were instructed to walk across the damp ground quickly, quietly and without leaving footprints, all the while shooting arrows into the targets that she had set up around the clearing.

                They had been at it for almost three hours when one young man threw his bow to the ground in anger. “This is impossible!” he fumed.

                “I assure you that it is not, Bowen. I would not make you attempt to perform an impossible task. That would be counterproductive.”

                “Then you do it,” he said with force.

                She raised a brow. “Certainly, but my doing so will accomplish nothing.” Seeker gestured to Gareth, her lieutenant. Of the many men in her unit, only two had not made lewd comments, Gareth and his friend Owen. Both had assumed positions as her right- and left-hand men.

                Gareth had the targets moved to an area that had not been trampled by the rest of the unit while Seeker strapped her quiver on. She took position closer to the river, holding her bow firmly but delicately. Before her men had even become aware that she had started, her arrows were imbedded in the center of every target, save one that had strayed a finger’s width to the left. Seeker stood to the edge of the clearing, with no physical sign explaining how she had gotten there.

                Her men scrambled around, laughing and trying to find a footprint. Bowen stood off to the side, his anger unappeased by Seeker’s performance.

                “Here! I found one!” The unit ran over at Owen’s call, but it was quickly deduced that the foot in question belonged to Owen himself, as the boot was far too big to have belonged to Seeker.

                In the midst of the commotion, no one noticed Bowen stalk up to Seeker. He grabbed her roughly and thrust her up against a tree. “I will not take orders from a woman,” he hissed, arm pressed against her throat. “Women take orders from men, not the other way around.”

                The clearing had fallen silent as the men realized what was transpiring. Owen and Gareth slowly approached Bowen from behind, but Seeker waved them off with a flick of her wrist. “This has nothing to do with taking orders from me,” she said to Bowen. “This is about being beaten by a woman. You can’t stand being bested by a person that you believe to be of a lesser species.”

                “You didn’t beat me,” he said forcefully. “That drill was designed for sneaky harlots like yourself.” His eyes looked crazed, and the pressure on Seeker’s throat was growing by the second.

                “Well, if you didn’t like that, then you are going to absolutely hate what happens next.”

                “What-“

                She did not hesitate. Seeker knocked his legs out from underneath him, kicked him onto his stomach and pinned his arms behind his back with one hand while holding Maddock’s knife to his throat with the other.

                She let the metal sting his skin before sheathing it and straightening, putting her boot on his back to keep him on the ground. “So,” she said pleasantly. “Does anyone else have a problem taking orders from a woman?”

                Her words were greeted by silence and synchronized shakes of the head.

                She leaned down. “You, Bowen, will return to the palace and get reassigned. I do not want to see your face in my unit again.” She released him, and he quickly scrambled to his feet and ran for town.

                After that day, she had no more trouble from her men. If anything, she had effectively solidified their trust and respect. By the time they left for Viridia to join the Second Battalion a year later, she had brought every one of her men into the fold of the rebellion.

                The battalion came upon Torren after ransacking three sizeable villages along the mountains. As captain of the archers, Seeker had been sent ahead with two men to find an outpost for the army that they could attack from. A small farm sat about a mile south of the village, perfectly positioned for their purposes.

                The owner had been making himself dinner when Seeker and her lieutenants had rather forcibly taken over after dark. Far from afraid, the man chastised them grumpily.

                “If you burn down my house, I’ll have to make you pay. I’ve already had to rebuild it once because of you meddlesome raiders.” The man glared at the two men. He hadn’t seemed to notice Seeker.

                “We are not raiders, and we’ve no intentions of destroying your home, sir,” she said, stopping when she heard hoof beats. Seeker pulled her knife out and held it to the man’s face to encourage his silence.

                Hearing decidedly more than one horse, Seeker was cautious at first. But the view from the window revealed that it was only one man, strangely enough. She sent Gareth and Owen out first, to deter the man from getting himself killed.

                Seeker could see only the vague form of a man beyond the torch’s light.

                “Where is he?” The voice sounded as though it had sprung from the very depths of the earth, made of gravel and the rumblings of the world. It was an intimidating sound, but Seeker’s companion in the dark seemed to recognize the voice immediately.

                “In here.” The man spoke despite the knife at his neck, sounding more exasperated than afraid.

                The brutal voice came again. “Are you alright?”

                To Seeker’s surprise, her captive chuckled almost inaudibly. “Aside from the knife pressed to my throat?”

                Curiosity won Seeker over, and she guided her captive through the door. The man’s voice took on a tone of distinct disapproval. Seeker wondered if, perhaps, the two were related.

                “I seem to remember telling you not to be so risky with your life, Hawkeye.” The inflection was slight, but it caught Seeker’s attention. It sounded as if he was mocking the newcomer. The other man, Hawkeye, certainly seemed to take it that way, and responded rather flippantly. Well, he sounded as flippant as was possible for a voice such as his.

                “What can I say? I’m a terrible listener.”

                Seeker could not stop herself from interjecting, “Please stop making a joke of this. I am attempting to hold a hostage, here.” Hawkeye barely repressed a snort. But as Seeker walked closer to the torch, he stared at her curiously, and then caught his breath in shock.

                “Rhys, almighty,” he exclaimed in awe. He slowly stepped forward into the light, not making any sudden movements to provoke Gareth and Owen. Finally, Seeker could see the mysterious Hawkeye, who clearly could not believe his eyes.

                The man was far younger than she’d expected, probably no more than five or six years her senior. He was tall, far taller than either Owen or Gareth, but he wasn’t bulky, and his movements spoke to a surprising grace. A mess of shaggy mahogany hair framed his angular, tanned face. His square jaw was covered in a layer of stubble that suggested he’d been traveling for several days.

                It was the eyes that struck terror into the depths of Seeker’s soul, though she tried to ignore it. Hawkeye’s eyes were a dull grey, and though that in itself may have been unremarkable, his face was made unique by a jagged white scar that stretched from his left eyebrow across the lid and into his straight, aristocratic nose. The left eye had clouded over, causing an asymmetry that was as disarming as it was frightening. And nothing could have prepared Seeker for what happened next.

                Hawkeye’s voice barely escaped in a whisper. “Seeker.”

                Seeker felt her face go slack and her jaw drop.

                Hawkeye smiled a little. “It took me a moment, but you look an awful lot like your father.”

                Seeker released her captive and took a shaky step back. He twisted around to get a look at her. “By the Fiery One,” he breathed. “How old are you, lass? Almost twenty, I’d guess. Perhaps a little older.” The man peered at her. “She certainly has the captain’s coloring, no doubt about it.”

                Gareth and Owen looked at Seeker in bewilderment.

                Hawkeye seemed to have a thought just then. “You’re not a hostage,” he said, as if that were the strangest thing in the world. “Do you serve the Cyrenian throne of your own free will?”

                Seeker looked at Hawkeye shrewdly. She could detect no guile in the man’s face, no manipulation in his words. He seemed, not simply curious, but incredulous. She felt that she would have trusted this man, regardless of her belief in people in general. Seeker answered honestly, much to the shock of her two loyal companions. “I serve the Cyrenian throne willingly. I do not, however, serve Trillian.”

                “Captain, how do you know these two are not spies of Trillian’s?” Gareth asked quietly, glaring at the Viridians suspiciously. Neither he nor Owen had lowered their bows.

                Hawkeye looked at Zar.

                Zar shook his head. “It’s your decision.”

                Hawkeye nodded. He turned to Seeker. “I do not know what you are already privy to, but any information that I can give you will put you in considerable danger.”

                “I am working as a double agent for the rebellion, hidden as a captain in the Second Battalion of the Cyrenian army. I am already in considerable danger.”

                “The rebellion?” Zar glanced at Hawkeye with something akin to glee on his face.

                Hawkeye sighed and looked at Seeker. “Before we can get carried away, we have an imminent problem on our hands in the form of two Cyrenian battalions headed this way.”

                “Just ours. The Third is headed further north through the mountains.”

                “Well, that’s good enough news. What is it that your battalion plans to do?”

                Gareth spoke up, despite his earlier protests. “They are fairly certain they can run Torren over with relative ease. The only reason they’re even taking the town is because the king is paranoid and wants to destroy every village from here to Vale.”

                Hawkeye paled. “Are all the villagers south of here dead?”

                “Most of them survived,” Owen said. “The archers are in charge of executions. Seeker leads the archers, and every one of us is loyal to the rebellion. All we had to do was stay behind when the battalion had moved on and then catch up with them after we’d released the captives. The only casualties came from the few scuffles that broke out in defense of the towns.”

                Seeker studied Hawkeye’s reactions to their information. It was difficult to read his expression, given its grotesque marking, but from what Seeker could tell, the man was genuinely relieved that the villagers had been spared. “Are they expecting any resistance from Torren?” he asked.

                Seeker shook her head. “There are no indications that the town even has the manpower to resist. We were planning on the reliable catch-and-release operation. It worked on the other towns.” She caught the look on Hawkeye’s face. “You can’t be thinking of fighting.”

                Zar snorted. “There’s nothing Hawkeye can’t think.”

                Hawkeye shot a glare at the him. “I have fifty soldiers currently staying the night in Torren. Our orders from the capital are to hold the village. We have to stop the Cyrenian advance or they’ll quickly have a clear path to Vale.”

                Seeker shook her head in disbelief. “Even if you had a hundred men, you’d be no match for the Second. We have 300 strong.”

                “That may be true, but you command the archers, and the archers belong to the rebellion. How many of you are there?”

                “Fifty,” Owen offered.

                “And I have a small, albeit hodgepodge, force of fifty more, native to the town. That puts our numbers at 150 and the battalion’s at 250. And,” Hawkeye continued, when he saw Seeker open her mouth to interrupt, “my unit is responsible for the deaths of three of your best generals. We’re an elite squad, each member good for three, if not four, regular soldiers. So, tell me again that we don’t stand a chance.”

                Seeker had to admit that, if what he said was true, Torren’s chance of survival wasn’t so grim after all. But it did leave one problem. “The White Raven specifically told us to keep our cover for as long as possible.”

                “The White Raven?” Hawkeye looked at her with slight caution.

                She realized how it sounded, stating that a white bird had given strict instructions concerning their cover. “The man who leads rebellion,” Seeker clarified.

                Zar made a skeptical face. “He calls himself the White Raven? Whatever for?”

                The three Cyrenians shrugged.

                “And this man,” Hawkeye said, “has a plan to overthrow Trillian? Why? How?”

                “Cyrene has fallen to ruin,” Seeker stated grimly. “Trillian raised taxes on the people and drove most of them into poverty. To make matters worse, he levied a draft and is stealing away the young and the strong. Many of them have lost their lives in a war without purpose, leaving the old and infirm to fight for survival with what little they have left. Somebody had to do something.” She finished with passion.

                Owen took up the explanation. “The White Raven’s using the Viridian war as a distraction. The Viridians are strong enough that the White Raven believes he has the time to infiltrate the army, both at home and abroad. When he has enough support, the soldiers will rise up and overrun any still loyal to Trillian.”

                “I doubt there are very many,” Seeker added.

                “And then what? Capture the king? Execute him? Make him pay for his crimes? Who would take the throne?” Hawkeye’s questions were forceful. Zar made a sound, but when Seeker looked at him, she couldn’t decipher his expression.

                She analyzed Hawkeye’s face, seeing a fire there that she couldn’t explain. It was as if he cared as much about the fate of her country as she did. And his questions made her uneasy, because she could not answer them. Seeker wondered if anyone had thought of the future when they had joined the White Raven’s movement to overthrow the king.

                Hawkeye interpreted their silence, shaking his head. He glanced at Seeker. “I can help Cyrene. I can make this rebellion into a revolution. But you have to trust me, and you have to help me save Torren first.”

                Seeker’s heart told her she could put her faith in this man. He knew that she was part of Trillian’s games, which meant that he had to have learned it from Maddock. If Maddock had entrusted him with that kind of information, Seeker felt she had no choice but to trust him.

                Suddenly, a large white creature materialized from the shadows surrounding the torchlight. Seeker watched curiously as Hawkeye noticed the new arrival. He did not draw his sword. He simply held his hands up, making it clear that he was not armed. The beast cast him an appraising glance before stepping into the light and standing next to the scarred young man.

                Hawkeye looked down into the mismatched eyes of the white wolf, giving the majestic animal a respectful nod before looking back at Seeker. “A friend of yours?”

                She met his steady gaze. “Perhaps. So, what’s the plan?”

IX

                The aging Viridian queen sat on her throne in the palace at Vale. She was listening to General Kenzie regale her with details of the ongoing war with Cyrene. Lorna quickly bored of Kenzie’s tactical jargon, which made what should have been an interesting report into something akin to gibberish. Kenzie had just launched into the statistical probability that the Cyrenians would break through to Vale, either from the south or the west, when a messenger came sprinting into the throne room.

                Eager for a change of tempo, the queen leaned forward and gestured for the messenger to speak. He took a moment to catch his breath before bowing politely and delivering his news.

                “I have breaking news, Your Majesty, General.” Kenzie looked confused that the messenger had no scroll, which prompted him to explain, “The information warrants a caution that did not allow a written message.”

                Lorna’s greying brows contracted in surprise. Very rarely did sensitive information reach her court.

                The messenger continued. “I have just ridden from Torren, a small village in southwestern Viridia. It was but the fourth in a line of villages targeted by the Cyrenians. As you know, two battalions split off from the main front in the south in an attempt to flank us. Orders were sent to our top clandestine unit, the Shadows, to stop the Cyrenian advance.”

                The general nodded, remembering these orders. She had written them herself ten days before. Queen Lorna also recalled this turn of events. She had questioned the wisdom of sending her best soldiers into a battle they couldn’t win, but Kenzie had reasoned that any resistance at all would take the Cyrenians by surprise. If the Shadows couldn’t defeat the Cyrenians, they could at least delay them long enough to send reinforcements. Lorna hoped that it wasn’t too late to do so.

                The messenger began with a disheartening breakdown of the situation. “The Shadows number thirty-five men and fifteen women. The Cyrenian battalion that set upon Torren stood 300 strong.” Lorna cringed. “However, it seems that the current captain of the Shadows, known affectionately by his soldiers as Shadowhawk, lived in Torren for quite some time and had a small force built up that aided in the defense of the village.”

                “A small force?” General Kenzie demanded. “These soldiers should have joined the army. We can use every able-bodied man and woman. Are they cowards, to sit safely in their village?”

                The messenger waited patiently for Kenzie to finish. Finally, Lorna gestured her to be silent. She turned back to the messenger, hoping that good news would come of this.

                “The small force was made up of thirty children, General, and their mothers.”

                This shocking statement served to strike both women dumb.

                “Apparently, Shadowhawk spent several years teaching swordsmanship to these children, two of which sought out the Shadows in the grasslands even as the unit made to pack up and defend Torren. According to these children, their mothers began practicing with bows when Cyrene declared war on us, knowing that no town was safe from invasion.”

                “Let me get this straight. Our clandestine unit of fifty men and women and this Torren group of some fifty or sixty women and children took on a well-trained Cyrenian battalion of 300 soldiers?” Lorna looked at Kenzie, not pleased at the tactical misjudgment that had clearly taken place.

                “No, Your Majesty,” the messenger said. He then blushed at his rudeness for contradicting the queen. “My apologies, Your Majesty. What I meant was that it was not just the Shadows and the children. As it turns out, Shadowhawk met an advance team from the battalion, three Cyrenian archers. Their captain revealed that the entire archers’ unit is loyal to a rebellion brewing in the underbelly of Cyro.”

                Lorna’s jaw dropped. No word had reached Viridia of a Cyrenian rebellion.

                The messenger grinned at the queen’s reaction. “The Cyrenian archers numbered fifty, Your Majesty, dropping the battalion’s numbers to 250 and increasing Torren’s force to 150. This, as you can probably imagine, gave them a much better chance of success.”

                This Shadowhawk is quite a special person indeed. What more is he capable of? Lorna wondered to herself.

                “The archers’ captain joined forces with the Shadows. The Cyrenians and the mothers sat on the rooftops. The children milled in the streets as decoys. The Shadows hid in the alleys and houses of the village. The Cyrenian captain pointed out which men were undyingly loyal to the king, who were picked off at the beginning of the assault. According to the Shadows, they numbered between 75 and 100. The Torren force then disarmed and corralled the rest of the battalion and gave them a choice: Join the fight against the king, or be released into the grasslands to regroup with their front lines in the south.”

                Lorna had no doubt that this decision had also been made by Shadowhawk. It was cunning, really. Giving the Cyrenians a choice between rebellion and death would lead to men choosing life who could turn on the rebellion later. But Shadowhawk gave them the choice to walk away. Any still loyal to Trillian would flee, no harm done.

                “How many stayed?” The queen asked, almost afraid of the answer.

                The messenger smiled up at her. “All of them, Your Majesty.”

                Lorna sat back in her throne, a smile playing about her lips. “I think I should like to meet this Shadowhawk.”

                “Conveniently enough, he and his unit are headed for the capital. He said to tell you, General, that the Shadows need rest after the events at Torren. Shadowhawk said he would be bringing the, uh, new recruits to the capital. He also said to give Your Majesty a message.”

                “Go on.”

                He hesitated briefly. “If it pleases Your Majesty, he specifically stated that the message was for your ears only.”

                Kenzie made to speak, no doubt offended, but Lorna cut her off. “Please see to it that the soldiers will be well cared for. Especially the archers’ unit. Send Shadowhawk to me as soon as he’s settled in.”

                The general nodded a little stiffly and left the throne room with a concerned backward glance at her queen.

                “Now tell me this secret message, if you please.”

                The messenger nodded vigorously. “Of course, Your Majesty. He said, ‘Please tell Her Majesty, Queen Lorna of Viridia, that I have information regarding her family.’ Shadowhawk added that he will be here before dusk tomorrow to explain this cryptic message.”

                The queen’s stunned silence was dismissal enough. The messenger bowed and took his leave.

*              *              *

                Seeker watched Hawkeye as he rebuilt a livestock pen that her battalion had trampled upon their entrance. He talked cheerfully with the owner of the small farm while hammering away at the posts. She was having a hard time figuring him out, and normally she was fairly adept at reading people.

                Around his unit, Hawkeye was all business. He was quick and efficient, with very little time wasted on pleasantries. Of the fifteen women in the Shadows, she had determined that at least ten of them were hopelessly in love with their captain, four treated him like a brother, and only one, Eilis, disliked him. Seeker wondered why.

                The townspeople genuinely liked him. The children all worshipped him, probably because few of them had any father figures to speak of. From what Seeker could tell, the people of Torren made up the only family that Hawkeye had. It seemed that Zar acted as something of a father, not that Hawkeye ever listened to him.

                He rarely smiled, even when talking to the villagers.

                Seeker walked over to where he was working to lend a hand. “Can I help?”

                Hawkeye looked up, shielding his eyes against the sun. “Absolutely. If you can fix that section over there, I can finish this one and we can move on to Malcolm’s house.”

                Seeker nodded and accepted the hammer he held out to her. The two made quick work of the pen, holding the gate open as a few members of Seeker’s battalion herded wayward cattle in.

                It took the better part of the afternoon to repair the damage that the Second had inflicted on Torren. By the time the sun kissed the horizon, Seeker was tired and sore, but satisfied. She handed over her tools to Hawkeye and headed toward her unit’s makeshift camp on the edge of town.

                “Seeker, wait.” Seeker turned at the sound of Hawkeye’s voice. “Come have dinner with Zar and me. I hear he’s been working really hard at growing vegetables out there, which is no mean feat.”

                She pondered for a moment, and then decided that she had some questions for him. “Sounds delicious,” she said with a smile.

                So the pair of them mounted up and headed out to Zar’s little farm.

                “Ah, my dear Seeker!” Zar exclaimed when they arrived. He stood by the little wood stove, stirring beef, carrots and onions in a large pot. “I’m glad you could make it.”

                “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Seeker said.

                “… As the world falls to ruin for a few carrots,” Hawkeye said playfully.

                Zar snorted. “Worth it, these carrots are going to be delightful.”

                “I’ll reserve judgment until I actually try them. You went through a phase where everything tasted like mint,” Hawkeye said as he set the rough wooden table.

                “It was an experiment to see if I could make your breath smell better.”

                Seeker started giggling, and found that once she had started she could not stop.

                Hawkeye grinned at her. “Don’t let him fool you. He just couldn’t tell the difference between mint and basil. I’m lucky he didn’t find nightshade and think it edible!”

                Zar waved the sauce-covered spoon in his direction. “I didn’t see you picking herbs for seasoning, Sir Fights-A-Lot.”

                “Hey, I can do other things besides fighting,” Hawkeye said with indignation.

                Zar returned to the stove. “Indeed, your useless talents are endless.”

                Seeker tried to rein in her laughter. “Enough,” she cried. “Zar, do you need some help?”

                The older man flashed her a smile. “Not at all, my dear. I just like bringing that haughty boy back down to my level.”

                “Well, I dislike your level,” Hawkeye said, attempting to sound haughty and failing miserably.

                “Only because I rule down here,” Zar said matter-of-factly.

                “If you two don’t stop arguing, I will take over, because I am famished,” Seeker stated.

                “The Seeker has spoken!” Hawkeye declared. “We better listen, I hear she’s a fearsome bounty hunter.”

                Seeker stopped laughing. “How do you…?”

                Hawkeye smiled at her. “I honestly don’t know of any other young women accompanied by a large white wolf. Do you, Zar?”

                “I’m fairly certain I would remember that kind of a pet,” Zar answered, setting the stew on the table and ladling it out. “Is it a secret that you are actually the best bounty hunter in Cyrene?”

                “Not really, I’m just surprised that you know of me.”

                “The Seeker is known throughout most of the world,” Hawkeye commented. “It never occurred to me before that a famed bounty hunter would be Captain Maddock’s daughter, but I suppose I really shouldn’t be surprised.” He smiled to himself for a moment, but he suddenly turned serious. “How is Maddock? Is he… alright?”

                Seeker met Hawkeye’s gaze and felt herself drowning in the intensity of it. “He’s scared. For me, more than anything, I think,” she said. “So how do two Viridians know Captain Maddock?” She thirsted for information about her father. They hadn’t spoken about their relationship since the day she’d joined the army, and she found that she wanted desperately to know more about him.

                “Well, neither of us are Viridian, for starters,” Hawkeye said with a glance at Zar.

                “I used to be the captain’s captain, once upon a time,” Zar said. “That was back before he met your mother, when he first joined the Cyrenian army. We’d been training young men for the war in Illyria.”

                It was hard to comprehend that the war with Illyria had started so long before her existence. “It seems so strange that Illyria no longer exists. We fought them for most of my childhood, and then it was over, just like that,” Seeker said.

                “Not just like that,” Hawkeye commented. “Lives were destroyed in the process. Too many people were slaughtered.” His voice trailed off, so that Seeker had to lean in to hear the end of the sentence.

                “Suffice to say, Maddock is a close friend of ours. He’s been quietly working against Trillian since the coronation,” Zar said with a concerned look at Hawkeye.

                Seeker did not accept the change in topic. “What happened?” she asked Hawkeye. He sat with his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. His gaze was fixed on some distant memory that she could not see, but could feel the pain of nonetheless.

                When he didn’t respond, she reached out tentatively. “Hawkeye?”

                He met her gaze suddenly, ripped from his past and thrust violently back to the present. But before she could react, he gave her a disarming smile. “Sorry,” he said, “I got lost in thought. It’s alright, I found my way back.” Hawkeye stood and collected the used dishes. “The past has a nasty way of sneaking up on you.”

                Seeker nodded. She knew what it was like to wake up in the morning and suddenly remember, even after eleven years, that she no longer had a mother.

                “Speaking of the past,” Zar interjected, “when I last spoke to your father, you had no idea who he was. When did you find out?”

                Seeker forced her attention away from Hawkeye, who was diligently ignoring her to scrub the plates. “Maddock was one of my chief sources as a bounty hunter. The day after I met the White Raven, I went to him to ask him to get me into the army. He was not pleased,” Seeker said with a smile.

                “More displeased than an objective source ought to be,” Zar interpreted.

                “Exactly,” Seeker said.

                “So what do you know about Trillian?”

                “Only that he is responsible for the death of my mother, to gain Maddock’s cooperation. With what, I don’t know. I can only imagine what the king was involved in.”

                “He didn’t become king by accident,” Hawkeye said darkly.

                “What do you mean?” Seeker’s gaze flicked between the two of them.

                “He means that the Illyrians did not plan the deaths of the royal family,” said Zar.

                “How could you possibly know that?”

                “I was there,” Zar replied simply.

                Seeker could only stare at him blankly.

                He sighed. “I was once Zar, son of Zander, steward to His Majesty Kynan, son of Kenrik, King of Cyrene.”

                “You were the king’s steward?”

                Zar bowed his head slightly. “Indeed, I was. I wonder if Trillian even knows I’m alive. He tried to have me killed, you know,” he said conversationally.

                “But why?”

                “I was too close to his brother. He seemed to think I wouldn’t know the difference if he dressed up some of his own men as Illyrians. He forgot that I captained most of them. Like they were going to kill me,” Zar scoffed.

                Seeker shook her head. Years of gathering information and working outside the law had never turned up anything like this. She wondered if the White Raven knew what Trillian was guilty of. She glanced at Hawkeye, who had remained conspicuously silent.

                 “Zar and I met up outside the city, both fleeing our homeland and with no family members left to be afraid for,” Hawkeye said, answering her silent question. She watched as he slipped back into his memories, his eyes darkening.

                “Hawkeye,” she said loudly.

                He blinked, eyes refocusing on her. She watched the thunderstorm lighten into a cloudy day. “My apologies,” Hawkeye said, “again.” He shook his head slightly. “I must be very tired, I seem to keep nodding off,” he said with an apologetic smile.

                Seeker looked at him sadly. It seemed such a shame to waste one of those rare smiles on a lie. “I should be heading back to camp anyway. We’ll have a lot to organize in the morning.” She stood and gave the two men a half-hearted wave. “Thank you so much for dinner,” Seeker said.

*              *              *

                When Hawkeye rode back into town in the morning, he discovered that his unit had been sucked into Seeker’s archers. The two different groups were going through drills that he often insisted on himself, but that were being run instead by Seeker.

                “Good morning, Captain,” he called to her.

                She returned the greeting with a wave. “You’re late,” she teased.

                “No, I think that you’ll find that you are early,” Hawkeye returned. “The sun isn’t even up yet.”

                “No excuses, Shadowhawk.”

                Hawkeye rolled his eyes. He’d rather hoped that that nickname would stay confined to the Shadows. He dismounted and hitched Whisper up to the post outside the general store, only to be distracted by a noise above him. He looked up to see Rhona hanging out of the window of her house.

                “What are you doing?” she asked.

                “Apparently, we’re drilling,” Hawkeye said.

                “Can we join you?” Malcolm’s head popped out next to Rhona’s.

                Hawkeye smiled. “If you feel so inclined, feel free to drag yourselves out of your warm beds to run around with a bunch of soldiers.”

                Both faces disappeared with quiet squeals of delight. The two reappeared on the street, fully dressed and armed with the swords that Hawkeye had once bartered for from a traveling metal smith.

                Rhona whistled a high-pitched, five-note tune. Hawkeye looked at her curiously, but she just smiled widely and ran off with her brother to join the Shadows. Hawkeye shook his head and followed them.

                Seeker watched the children approach with an amused expression and directed them to different drills without question.

                The meaning of Rhona’s whistle soon became apparent as the rest of Torren’s children slowly trickled into the streets to join her and her brother. Hawkeye split them up and sent them into action.

                As the sun grudgingly made its way into the sky, the soldiers from different places and backgrounds quickly became friends. By noon, they had all split into random groups to rest and eat lunch. Their captains sat off to the side, watching their men and women talking and laughing as if they were old pals.

                “So, Sir Fights-A-Lot, can you do anything besides swordplay?” Seeker spoke without looking at him, her voice teasing.

                Hawkeye pondered a moment, answering the question honestly. “There was a time when I was very good at hand-to-hand combat. Maddock taught me most of my knowledge on that subject, including the use of a dagger to complement a sword. Since I joined the Viridian army, I’ve been practicing archery, as I’ll admit that I rather put off my lessons with the bow as a boy.”

                “How shameful,” Seeker commented with a smile. “Are you any good?”

                “He’s a damn good shot, if that’s what you’re asking,” said a voice behind them.

                “Ewan overestimates me,” Hawkeye said without turning around.

                Seeker grinned. “I hope so, because I intend to challenge you to a competition.”

                “Oh no,” Hawkeye groaned.

                “Oh, yes,” Ewan said gleefully, as he ran off to set up the targets.

                After the competition, in which Seeker beat him soundly, Hawkeye gathered the commanding officers of the archers and the Shadows. Ewan, Eilis, Seeker, Owen, and Gareth all faced him in the command tent to discuss where to go from here.

                Hawkeye laid it out. “I’d like to take all of the soldiers to Vale. We can circulate the rumor that the Second Battalion was destroyed outside of Torren, that way no identities are compromised and no one can be held accountable to Trillian. And he’ll have to reassess the strength of the Viridian army.”

                “It’ll be quite a shock to the queen to suddenly have an entire Cyrenian battalion at her court,” Eilis commented.

                Hawkeye nodded. “But it’ll be a comfort to know that there is a rebellion cooking, and that these soldiers are ready to be a part of it. We could send Macaulay in the next day or two, to warn her of our impending arrival.”

                “Aye, that would be a good idea,” said Ewan. “And our unit is due for a rest anyway; we’ve been running ourselves ragged out here.”

                “See to it that Macaulay is ready to ride for Vale by noon tomorrow,” Hawkeye said to Ewan, who nodded and headed out. Eilis followed him without instruction. Hawkeye shook his head. He looked up and saw Seeker’s curious stare. “I don’t know why she does that, so don’t ask.”

                “Clearly, she does not like you,” Seeker said.

                “Don’t I know it,” Hawkeye said with a sigh. “Anyway, how do you three feel about all of this?”

                “I like it,” Owen said immediately.

                “Me too,” said Gareth. “It feels good to not be following Trillian’s orders anymore, even if we weren’t really following them to begin with.”

                Hawkeye nodded. “Seeker?”

                “I’ll break down the battalion and reorganize it with some kind of command structure. Most of the commanding officers were Trillian’s men and are no longer with us.”

                “I’d say that’s unfortunate, but I’d be lying,” Hawkeye said wryly. “You’ve got until the day after tomorrow, and then we depart for the capital.”

                “So soon?” Gareth said.

                “The quicker we get to Vale, the quicker we can get regrouped and aid the rebellion. We’ll need the queen’s support, as well as supplies.”

                “We’ll be ready,” Seeker said firmly. “Gareth, explain the situation to the archers. Owen, round up that mess of a battalion. Pick out the men and women most likely to make good leaders, while you’re at it.” Her lieutenants nodded and exited the tent.

                As Hawkeye watched Seeker with her men, he felt that Maddock would be proud of the woman she’d become. She was confident and decisive as well as extremely intelligent. She was currently fixing him with a calculating stare, and he worried for a moment that she was too smart.

                “How do you intend to help the rebellion?”

                Hawkeye suppressed a sigh of relief. “Aside from handing it most of the Second Battalion, I’d like to add the Shadows to its forces. Gaining Queen Lorna’s support could be critical to the rebellion’s success, simply because it’ll need the resources that she can supply.”

                Seeker nodded thoughtfully. “And she’ll want to help the rebellion because the end of Trillian means the end of the war.”

                “Exactly,” Hawkeye said. By the Fiery One, she is smart.

                She continued to look at him, curiosity apparently not satisfied. “How old were you?”

                Hawkeye raised a brow. “How old was I when?”

                “How old were you when you fled Cyro?”

                He felt his jaw tighten. “Fifteen,” he said quietly.

                Seeker shook her head sadly. “And you have no one left?”

                “I have no family left,” he corrected. “But I have a number of people that I care about. I find that that number grows daily,” he added, his face softening slightly.

                Seeker smiled. “I can relate. I seem to have acquired fifty brothers since I joined the army.”

                Hawkeye smirked. “They don’t all view you as a sister, you know. I wouldn’t be surprised if you get a marriage proposal before this is all done.”

                Seeker snorted. “As if all the women in the Shadows view you as indifferently as Eilis does. You’ve got more warriors swooning after you than I do,” Seeker said teasingly.

                Hawkeye’s grin froze. “I do?”

                “What, you didn’t know?” Seeker stared at him. He stared blankly back at her, and she began to laugh. “By Rhys, you are blind! Most of the women in your unit are smitten with you, Hawkeye.”

                Much to his embarrassment, Hawkeye began to splutter. “But why?”

                This response only served to make Seeker laugh harder. She patted him on the shoulder as she left the tent, still laughing hysterically, leaving Hawkeye alone with his bewilderment.

*              *              *

                Over the next two days, Seeker wrestled the Second into working order. Hawkeye helped where he could, but it was Seeker who was established as the commander of the battalion as a whole.

                By the time the sun rose high in the sky on that second day, the soldiers were fairly organized and ready to move out.

                Zar entrusted the care of the farm and livestock to Malcolm, and the former steward mounted up to join the march. Seeker watched him with amusement as he grumbled to Hawkeye about lack of respect and other trifles.

                It took them three-and-a-half days to reach the city, over which time she got to know Hawkeye. At least, she got to know the Hawkeye that he let show. He spoke a little about his family, but not at all about how they died or why he came to Viridia after Trillian came to power.

                Despite his guardedness, she found his company quite enjoyable, and spent most of the journey with him.

                Seeker wondered what would become of their friendship once they arrived at Vale.

*              *              *

                Hawkeye looked over at Seeker as they clattered through the cobblestone streets of Vale. She carried herself with the confidence of a warrior, but her eyes darted back and forth, a practice that he himself had long since adopted in the interest of safety. Despite her wariness, she did not seem particularly frightened. To the casual observer, she was the picture of a victorious soldier.

                Seeker glanced at him, noticing his gaze, and smirked at him. Hawkeye couldn’t help but smile back. She had that effect on him.

                Hawkeye had left Cai in Torren, to be taken care of by the ever-eager Malcolm. He patted Whisper’s sleek grey neck and glanced back at Zar, who was riding Nox and looking, if not at peace, a little less grumpy. Nox stood about a hand taller than Cai, and both he and Whisper possessed a delicate grace more characteristic to Cyrenian horses. The Viridian horses were shorter and had more muscle, evidence of their hardiness and ability to last days in the mountains and on the plains. Cyrenian horses generally spoke to the flatlands of the country, built for speed and lacking any unnecessary bulk.

                Whisper would have stood out amidst the Viridian ponies in the Shadows, which had aided his decision to take Cai into the army instead. But here, amidst the archers’ unit of the Cyrenian army, Whisper’s build and movement blended in, though her lustrous white-grey coat did not.

                Dozens of stewards appeared as the soldiers made their noisy way through the portcullis and into the courtyard. Hawkeye was separated from Seeker in the chaos, and he found himself staring up in wonder at the majestic archways of the palace. He was still gawking when a man appeared at his elbow.

                “The queen bids you welcome, Shadowhawk, Captain of the Shadows.”

                Hawkeye cocked a brow at the exceedingly formal tone and dismounted. “I thank her for her hospitality.”
                “Her Majesty asked that we show your soldiers to the barracks. The captains and their lieutenants will have special accommodations within the palace.” The steward threw his hand up and a boy came to take Whisper to the stables. Hawkeye reluctantly relinquished her reins. “When you’re ready, I will lead you to your rooms.”

                Hawkeye looked around for Seeker, but couldn’t spot the redhead amidst the moving bodies of horses and men. The steward gestured, rather impatiently, for Hawkeye to follow him into the palace. He complied, still scanning the courtyard for Seeker.

                              “Wait, where’s Zar?”

                “The gentleman made his presence known and was escorted to his rooms immediately.”

                Hawkeye snorted.  “I imagine he wasn’t very polite about it.”

                The steward actually cracked a smile. “No, sir, he was not.”

                “Well, don’t take it personally. He’s perpetually cranky.”

                “I shall keep that in mind, sir.”

                Hawkeye stuck his hand out. “I’m Hawkeye.”

                The steward looked down at Hawkeye’s hand with surprise. He tentatively shook it. “Calder.”

                “Nice to meet you.”

                “Same to you, sir.” Calder smiled at him with mild amazement before continuing their trek through the myriad hallways and passages of the Viridian castle. They finally came to a halt outside a plain wooden door.

                “This is where your rooms are,” Calder said. “You can lock them from the inside. If you like, I can get you a key to lock it from the outside.”

                “That’s not necessary. I have very few valuables. Could you tell me where Seeker is staying? The young woman who captains the archers,” he explained.

                Calder gave Hawkeye a conspiratorial look which, curiously enough, made him blush.

                “No, I just meant…” He trailed off.

                Calder laughed good-naturedly. He gave Hawkeye directions not only to Seeker’s quarters, but also to Zar’s rooms, the dining hall, the stables, and the throne room.

                “And I was told that Her Majesty would summon you to discuss your message at her earliest convenience,” Calder finished.

                Hawkeye thanked him for his help before entering his rooms. It occurred to him that, while he might only be here for a few days, this would be his first permanent residence in over two years. It elicited a strong feeling of detachment, as if he no longer belonged anywhere.

                It wasn’t a new feeling.

                He surveyed the room, instantly locating all seven of the windows throughout the bedroom, living area, and washroom. The rooms were lined with tapestries and rugs to soften the chill of the stone walls and floor. The bed was large and looked hopelessly soft. Hawkeye wondered if he’d even be able to sleep on something that comfortable, so long had he slumbered on the bare ground.

                Hawkeye quickly made use of the washroom, scrubbing the layers of grime from his face and body. He peered at his reflection in the mirror hanging above the basin, surprised at what he saw there. He hadn’t seen his own face in ten years. A stranger glared out at him from the mirror. The hideous scar that traversed the left side of his face hid any features that might have been familiar. He tried to pretend it wasn’t there.

                Beneath the jagged white line, he could find similarities to the boy he once was. His jaw, brow and cheekbones had straightened into hard, aristocratic angles, framing his once-straight nose and once-amused mouth. The lines on his face indicated he hadn’t smiled much in ten years. Then again, he hadn’t had much to smile about.

He avoided his own eyes.

His hair was long and messy. It looked bad after his wash; he could only imagine how much worse it had been, encrusted with dirt and Rhys knows what else.

                Hawkeye took the dagger from his belt lying on a wayward chair and set to cutting his unruly hair. Clearly, he could not make a living as a barber. But when he finished hacking away at it and rinsing it again, he had to concede that he looked much less like a wild man descended from the mountains to eat children. He considered shaving as well, but decided the shadow of a beard did not look awful, and that taking his chances with a knife to his face could only end badly.

                Hawkeye looked around for his clothes, surprised to find that someone, probably Calder, had been gracious enough to give him a clean tunic, new breeches, and a soft pair of boots that would probably be more comfortable than the knee-high riding boots he’d been wearing for a decade. He dressed, appreciating the smooth fabric that made quite the contrast to his rough country garb. Hawkeye hesitated before reaching for his sword and dagger. While the argument could be made that it wasn’t polite to walk around armed, he could not shake the feeling that he wasn’t safe here. Not that he was safe anywhere. He belted the weapons on as someone knocked on the door.

                “Hawkeye, sir?” Calder’s voice sounded on the other side of the wood. “The queen is ready to see you now, Captain.”

*              *              *

                Queen Lorna sat on the Viridian throne, waiting patiently for the mysterious Shadowhawk to answer her summons. She did not have to wait long. Calder appeared at the entrance to the throne room to announce the captain’s arrival.

                “Hawkeye, also called Shadowhawk, Captain of the Shadows!” Calder retreated as a young man stepped into the room.

                Lorna examined him as he neared her perch. He stood taller than most men she knew, with strong shoulders and proud bearing. Hawkeye moved with a strange grace. He had a spring in his step that portrayed him incongruously as both perfectly relaxed and perpetually on guard. His mahogany hair framed a face made up entirely of angles.

                As Hawkeye came closer, she noted the vicious scar across his left eye. It appeared that the eye had been damaged by the blow, the pupil clouded over and lost to the grey of the iris. Despite the scar, he was extremely handsome. Over all, the man elicited a strange sense of recognition, as if she had met him before. Lorna shook it off as he bowed low before her. They had important things to discuss.

                “Your Majesty,” Hawkeye began. His voice was low and gravelly. “Thank you so much for your hospitality, as well as for seeing me so soon.”

                “You are most welcome, Captain. However, whatever information you claim to have about my family will come as no surprise to me.”

                Shock and confusion ran across Hawkeye’s face.

                Lorna cocked a brow. “You were, of course, referring to my granddaughter?”

                The shock shifted. “Excuse me?”

                Confusion trickled into the queen. “You are not here to proclaim how you found my long-lost granddaughter?”

                Hawkeye shook his head. “Your Majesty, I had no idea you had any family at all, aside from the late queen of Cyrene.”

                “Well, by the Fiery One, I am most certainly at a loss as to why you are here.”

                “If I may be so bold, why did you believe me to have information on your granddaughter?”

                Lorna looked into his eyes, trying to figure out how she knew this young man. She answered his bold question without hesitation. “She arrived here with you.” She watched Hawkeye’s face change from mild curiosity to astonishment before coming to rest in a rather melancholy expression.

                “She doesn’t know.” It wasn’t a question.

                “Not yet, no.”

                “Your Majesty, you should not have shared this information with me before telling her.”

                “And you, Shadowhawk, do not have the authority to tell a queen what she should or should not do.” She let a warning creep into her words, though she knew he was right. She didn’t even know the man.

                He stood tall and certain before her. He did not apologize. “You are mistaken, Your Majesty. I told you that I had information about your family, and information I have. But you need to decide whether or not you are ready to hear it. And you have to be sure that you can believe it.”

                Lorna looked down at him with a calculating stare. “Why should I believe whatever impossible tale you have to tell?”

                Hawkeye reached up and unclasped a chain that had been hidden beneath his tunic. Lorna caught a flash of silver before he gathered the necklace into his hand and held it out for her to take. With some trepidation, Lorna reached out and lifted the chain from Hawkeye’s fingers. It uncoiled from his hand before catching on the weight of the pendant, which swung free. A finely-wrought silver oak tree spun and sparkled in the sunlight streaming in through the windows. The queen caught her breath with surprise.

                Her voice barely escaped in a whisper. “Where did you get this?”

                Hawkeye smiled sadly. “I have a long and horrible story to tell you, Your Majesty, if you have the time to hear it.”

                Lorna gazed at the pendant, twin to the one that hung around her own neck. She looked into the face of the ferocious-looking young man, uncertain that she wanted to know how he had come to be here. “Tell me,” she said.

*              *              *

                It was nearly dark by the time Hawkeye had told the queen everything he knew. Lorna had been horrified at the things he had to share. Her grief, like his own, had been dormant so long that to reawaken it now had been painful. But she had listened intently until the very end. She looked at him through new eyes, and though he was raw with the telling, he saw the respect in Lorna’s gaze and felt it was worth reliving the agony of his past.

                “What do you need?” Her voice was soft, devoid of its regal tone. She was no longer a queen, and he no longer a lowly captain.

                Hawkeye pondered that a moment. What did he need? There was so much. “I need time, and resources. With your permission, I’d like to train the Cyrenian archers’ unit with the Shadows and lead them to Cyro to meet up with the rebellion. Their leader, this ‘White Raven,’ does not seem to have much of a plan for the country after overthrowing Trillian.”

                “Will you tell your men?”

                Hawkeye shook his head. “Not yet. This is a secret we need to keep for as long as possible. Word travels fast, and I would prefer it if Trillian not learn of this until we’re ready.”

                Lorna nodded in agreement. “Take all the time you need.”

                Hawkeye paused, debating. Finally, he asked, “What about Seeker?”

                “What about her?”

                “I was hoping she’d come with me.”

                “I’m sorry, but that is not possible.”

                Hawkeye nodded, expecting this, but disappointed nonetheless. “I can’t keep her identity from her, Lorna.”

                “You’ve kept yours from her.”

                That stung, and no mistake. “I’ve only known her for a week. That’s hardly enough time to determine a person’s trustworthiness. That’s not nearly enough time to spill all of my secrets.”

                Lorna looked him up and down. “It’s plenty of time to fall in love.”

               

X

                Seeker soaked in her bath for the better part of an hour after washing every last speck of dirt from her person. It felt good to be clean. It felt even better to be out of immediate danger. She took one last deep breath and dragged herself out of the cooling water.

                Unlike Hawkeye, she did not bother looking in the mirror. She knew exactly what she would see there. When Seeker was a child, she had spent too long sneaking glances in reflective surfaces, trying to find her mother’s beauty. All she ever saw was the face of a homely child. Once, Elspeth had found her sobbing about how ugly she felt herself to be.

                Her mother had wrapped her arms around Seeker, quieting her tears. Elspeth sat her down and told her that her looks did not matter. “Once you start something, you finish it. You won’t be ordered about, even by me. You are your own person, Seeker. You are strong and confident and that has nothing to do with your face or your body.”

                Seeker left the washroom, plaiting her waist-length red hair into a long braid. She discovered that someone had whisked away her filthy soldier’s garb and replaced it with several choices of dresses. She picked each one up with distaste. Having no alternative, she donned the simplest of the options, a light blue, long-sleeved, floor-length dress. Had she looked in the mirror, she might have noticed how perfectly it matched her eyes, or how well it fit her. But she did not.

                Having found a pair of matching blue slippers, Seeker pulled them on, feeling slightly ridiculous. Before she could seriously consider simply walking about naked, a gentle knock forced her to accept her appearance and answer the door.

                Seeker would not have recognized the shockingly handsome young man standing at her door if it weren’t for the telltale scar. “Hawkeye!” His name came out louder than she had intended, so startled was she at his appearance. She flushed in embarrassment.

                Hawkeye, however, did not seem to notice. He looked a little dumbfounded. “I… You… I mean…” He let out a breathy chuckle and tried to collect himself. “I just came down to see if you’d like to explore. You know, the palace. Vale.”

                Seeker stared at him a moment, foolishly pleased that he was so flustered. “Absolutely.” She looked down at herself. “They didn’t leave me any breeches.”

                Hawkeye laughed. It was a full, good-natured sound that made her smile in return. “You look lovely, Seeker. You’ll be just fine.” He held out his right arm to escort her. She took it without question and they set off down the hallway.

                After a moment, she looked at him. She was tall enough that she didn’t have to crane her neck to look him in the eye. “I’ve never heard you laugh before.”

                “You’ve only known me a week.”

Seeker sensed a warning but went on anyway. “You don’t look as though you laugh very much.”

“What is there to laugh about? There’s a war going on.”

“That’s no excuse not to enjoy life. When was the last time you truly laughed, like you did just now?”

Hawkeye kept his silence for so long that Seeker thought he wouldn’t answer. They had already made it to the dining hall when he finally said, very quietly, “Over ten years ago. My best friend beat me in a sword fight for the millionth time.”

Seeker could hear the anguish in his voice. She looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Pressing you. It’s obviously a very painful memory.”

He shook his head. “It was a very long time ago, Seeker.”

“Time doesn’t heal us, Hawkeye. It hurts just as much now as it did then, and it will never stop hurting.” Hawkeye looked down at her, but she kept going, seeing her mother’s face, feeling her father’s abandonment. “But we get used to the pain. We get better equipped to bear it.” She looked up at him fiercely. “If you could relive that moment, when you were happy, knowing what you know now, what would you do?”

“I would stop… certain things from happening.”

Seeker looked at him, seeing a determination there that matched her own. But though he understood her fire, he didn’t understand what she meant. “It isn’t about changing the past, Hawkeye. If you knew that you would die tomorrow, that nothing you could do would change that, would you sit down and mourn the end of your life?”

“I… I don’t know.”

Seeker shook her head sadly. “You haven’t laughed in ten years, Hawkeye. You’ve been shouldering some weight for long enough that it is destroying you. You know what loss feels like, I can tell, but you still don’t have the ability to appreciate what time you have with someone, with anyone. Live in the moment, Hawkeye, or you’ll be miserable for the rest of your life.”

They had long since stopped in the middle of the hallway, facing off. Hawkeye took a step back, glancing away from her and running an agitated hand through his red-brown hair. “You don’t understand, Seeker. You want me to forget my past, and the pain there –“

“No! I want you to forgive yourself.”

His head shot up, face wrought with pain. “I can’t. I had a responsibility. I have a responsibility.”

“To whom? To what? Have you been fulfilling it these ten years?”

Anger and hurt flared across his face, and suddenly he stood inches from her. “One day, Seeker, you will know the horrors that I’ve witnessed and the lives that I’ve ended. One day, you will understand my responsibility. You will know exactly what I am and where I’ve been. You will feel the weight of a hundred years pressing upon your shoulders, thousands of lives weighing on your conscience.” Hawkeye’s rumbling voice vibrated in her chest, so deeply could she feel it. “Until that day, you have no right to judge me. And flinging my own shame into my face makes you no better than Trillian,” he hissed venomously.

His stormy eyes glared into her soul for a moment before he spun away from her with such fury that it stole what breath she had left. He disappeared down the corridor without a sound, leaving her backed up against the wall with anger in her heart and tears in her eyes.

She leaned on the cold stone, soaking up the feeling of solidity. She wondered, not for the first time, what had happened to that young man that could make him so bitter. If she was honest with herself, she might have considered that her mother’s death had a similar effect on her. Instead, she could feel only the hurt that Hawkeye had inflicted with his vicious, angry words.

Filled with suppressed rage, Seeker whipped around in a swirl of sky-blue skirts and strode back in the direction of her rooms. She burst through the door, slamming wood against stone with such force that it reverberated down the corridor. She grabbed her bow and quiver and quickly made her way out of the palace and into the city, where she received many curious glances.

She supposed she did look rather strange, a young woman in a beautiful dress and no overcoat walking purposefully through the streets at dusk with bow in hand and quiver on her back. Seeker didn’t care. She continued her journey until the trees swallowed the city behind her and the bustle of people faded into silence.

The cool autumn air felt deliciously crisp against her skin. Seeker felt at home amongst the coppers, reds, and golds of the changing trees, her own bright hair blending with the wildness of her surroundings. She slowed her pace, admiring each vibrant swath of color.

A stick cracked in the silence to her left. In one fluid motion, she had an arrow notched and aimed at the sound. Seeker edged around a tree to give herself cover, only to see that the intruder had no interest in her. The white she-wolf spared Seeker not a passing glance, despite her involuntary gasp.

“Theria,” Seeker breathed. She hadn’t seen the wolf since the night she met Hawkeye. But she regretted it as soon as she stepped out from behind the tree. The wolf’s eyes regarded her calmly, one blue, one green, both somehow filled with amusement. She sat peaceably on a blanket of fallen leaves, directly in front of Hawkeye, who appeared slightly bemused by this turn of events.

Seeker stared at him, unsure as to how he had found her, arrow still pointed in his direction. At that moment, she could probably have shot him. She could have shot him simply for stealing her heart and then calling her names, such is the nature of heartache. But Theria stood up, becoming a white barrier between Seeker and her target, as if daring her to let the arrow loose.

Hawkeye made no movement, uttered no sound. His eyes sparkled silver in the coming dark, and in them, she could see his grief. She could see his pain and his agony and she could feel it overwhelm her just as it threatened to overwhelm him. And deep within his soul, she could see that some part of him wanted release. A small part of this enigma of a man wanted nothing more than to lie down and die, to finally be at peace.

That, Seeker would not give. She lowered her bow abruptly, holding Hawkeye’s gaze.

Theria trotted toward her, obviously pleased at Seeker’s disgruntled mercy. Hawkeye approached Seeker with slow steps, as if she, not the wolf, was the wild animal. She gave him a dirty look and placed both her bow and the arrow in her quiver. “Next time you take your anger out on me, I will shoot you.”

Hawkeye nodded. “I’m sorry, Seeker.” He let out his breath in a huff. “There’s so much that I want to tell you, but I can’t, and I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry for lying to you, but I can’t tell you the truth, not now, not with so much at stake, and I’m sorry – “

“Enough.” Seeker couldn’t take it anymore. “Stop apologizing. Not everything is your fault, and quite a lot is beyond your control. Everybody lies, Hawkeye. Everyone has secrets.”

“Everyone has secrets, yes, but their secrets do not change the course of the world, Seeker. Mine do.”

She could see him breaking down again, and she had to stop it. She stepped toward him and put her hands on her hips. “You sound a little arrogant, you know.” She saw the shock take over his face, and continued, “You’re so certain that your secrets will change the world. Did you ever consider that the world will keep right on going, even if you’re not in it? The sun will continue to rise and set, just as it has done since time began and just as it will do for the next millennium, barring any nasty surprises.”

He stared at her, uncertain how to respond. She couldn’t keep a straight face though, and she burst out laughing, which seemed to bewilder him further.

“Stop taking life so seriously, Hawkeye. Everyone has responsibilities. No one has the daunting task of keeping the world moving.”   

*              *              *

Over the next two months, Hawkeye and Seeker trained the archers and the Shadows as one unit. They quickly discovered that they made a fantastic team. Many of the maneuvers had to be adjusted to accommodate fifty more soldiers, which Seeker organized with surprising skill. Neither she nor Hawkeye mentioned their heated argument or the encounter in the woods, and both seemed content to keep it that way.

Eilis and Seeker struck up a friendship, much to Hawkeye’s quiet disbelief. He wondered if it was an alliance of convenience, but the two young women got on surprisingly well, and Hawkeye noticed a decrease in Eilis’s hostilities toward him. The units themselves meshed together with similar ease, able to disengage into their separate entities just as easily as form together to make one group.

Both Hawkeye and Seeker had experience in stealth missions. But getting into the capital required a different kind of stealth than the cloak-and-dagger maneuvers that the Shadows had pulled off in the past. Seeker designed an ingenious assignment. The soldiers were given the responsibility to pick two different members each day. Every day, the two soldiers were given the task of shadowing a captain. The unit trained each morning until midday. The afternoon was theirs to spend as they pleased, aside from the two on stealth duty. The soldiers then met once more for a late evening meal when Hawkeye and Seeker picked out which soldier had followed them.

It wasn’t pretty at first. The men and women of the Shadows were used to assassinations, and the archers had plenty of experience camouflaging themselves in the wild, but neither side had any real talent at invisibility. Seeker counseled the troops on a daily basis. “Being invisible is not about preventing yourself from being seen. Being invisible means that you are seen and then instantly forgotten, so perfectly do you blend in.” As time progressed, the soldiers collaborated so that each subsequent pair performed stealthier than the last. By the time the last two soldiers had followed them from dining hall to rooms to stables and back, neither Hawkeye nor Seeker had been able to pick out their followers.

Autumn quickly faded into winter, and Hawkeye made the decision to delay their journey to Cyro. As snow floated down in the streets of Vale, he became increasingly short-tempered and restless. He took Whisper on daily gallops in the wilderness surrounding the city. She quickly gained the best physical shape of her life. Her rider, however, remained agitated.

One such occasion on a chilly afternoon, Hawkeye came across Seeker in the woods. She stood in the middle of a snowy clearing, flaming hair stark against the muted browns of the trees and the white of the snow. She spun in a tight circle with her bow, sinking arrow after arrow into the trees around her. After Seeker fired her last arrow, she pulled the dagger from its sheath around her right thigh and hurled it into the last trunk. She was breathtaking to watch.

Hawkeye assumed she hadn’t heard his approach, so focused was she on her practice. Dressed in brown and riding his sleek grey mare, Hawkeye all but disappeared in the landscape. He watched as Seeker retrieved her arrows. Whisper shifted her weight, making a slight huffing sound as she did so, and Seeker whipped around, arrow notched and aimed Whisper’s chest.

He saw the arrow aimed in his direction and found that, for the first time in over ten years, there was no part of him that wanted it to find its target. He had never had a death wish, but always he had begged for some relief, an end to the constant grief that threatened to consume him. He realized that he had found that relief, not on the tip of an arrow but in the young woman aiming it.

Hawkeye cocked an eyebrow. “If you shoot my horse, I shall have to kill you.”

Seeker lowered her bow. “If I shoot your horse, I would, of course, shoot you also. I rather value my life.”

“In which case, it seems we have reached an impasse. May we settle on an outcome that results in all three of us still living?”

She smiled, causing a twinge somewhere in Hawkeye’s soul. Seeker put her bow and arrow into the quiver strapped on her back. She pulled the remaining arrows from their wooden resting places, replacing each one in her quiver. Finally, Seeker wrenched her dagger from the last tree as Hawkeye dismounted Whisper and gave her free reign to roam around.

Hawkeye was unsure how to proceed. He had spent most of his waking hours with Seeker. However, he had not been alone with her since the day in the woods several months previously. He had also not been alone with her since the day the queen had told him who she was. They never spoke of anything personal, never ventured beyond the details of the upcoming mission.

He had toyed with the idea of telling Seeker the truth for months. With each passing day, he trusted her more and more. Despite his anxiety at prolonging his stay in Vale, he also worried more and more about actually leaving. The queen, it seemed, had been content to keep her silence, for Seeker still had no idea that she would not be traveling with him to Cyro. Hawkeye could not tell her, for to do so would demand an explanation which he was not allowed to give.

Revealing his own story, he could do. Hawkeye knew he needed to tell Seeker who he was. The longer he spent with her, the more he realized that the queen had been right. He had fallen in love with this fiery young woman. He sighed, his breath a cloud of white in the frigid air. It was a distraction he really could not afford.

“Are you alright?” Seeker’s voice startled him from his reverie.

Hawkeye looked up, phrasing a sentence in his mind that would allay her concerns. Before he could respond, he heard the crunch of snow. He grabbed Seeker’s hand, motioning for her silence as he crept towards Whisper, whose ears had pricked at the sharp sound. Hawkeye relinquished Seeker when he realized it was only the white wolf.

“Theria!” Seeker exclaimed.

The wolf trotted toward them, bobbing her head at Whisper. The little horse snorted in return, showing no signs of unease. Hawkeye stroked his loyal mare’s nose as Seeker greeted the wild creature. The wolf looked at him, mismatched eyes regarding him with the same kind of soul-searching gaze he had come to expect from Seeker.

Seeker stretched a hand out, palm up. The wolf gave her a cursory sniff before bypassing her completely and approaching Hawkeye. The graceful creature pressed her black nose against the back of Hawkeye’s hand. He knelt and looked into her eyes, cautiously stroking the white muzzle. “You are magnificent,” he told the beast.

The wolf averted her gaze in what could only be a sign of embarrassment.

“I haven’t seen her since…” Seeker paused. “Since the day we arrived in Vale,” she finished lamely.

Hawkeye looked over at her, but Seeker would not meet his eyes. Instead, she stared into the endless trees. “How did you two come to be companions?” he asked in an attempt to alleviate the tension.

Seeker’s face saddened at the memory. “In my younger years, Theria only ever appeared when I needed her most. I was making weekly trips into Cyro for the market. I was only nine, but I felt invincible. I suppose Elspeth knew better than to stop me, I was so headstrong. At the time, I had no father, and I insisted on going to the market once a week to see Maddock, if only to spot a glance of him. He met me every week, always with some trifle to return home with. The day my mother died, he was not at the market.”

Theria left Hawkeye’s side and curled up next to Seeker, who absently laid a hand on her snowy fur. Hawkeye looked at her, so strong and so sad. “I’m sorry,” he said. “You don’t have to tell me this. I had no idea that it would be so painful a memory.”

She glanced at him, an ironic smile on her face. “I suppose that makes us even.”

He wanted to tell her how sorry he was about that day, about exploding in her face and unleashing such harsh words, but she must have seen some impending speech on his face, for Seeker quickly continued with her story.

“I was devastated when I didn’t see Maddock in Cyro that day, and I left town early. The first time I ever saw Theria, she stood in front of my home, barring entrance. I can’t say that I was ever afraid of her, but when she wouldn’t let me into the house, I decided something must be wrong. I just stumbled backwards and ran for the neighbors’. My best friend, Howell, lived close enough that his mother could hear me yelling before she could see me. When Howell’s father went to investigate, Theria was gone, but… They wouldn’t let me go inside.”

“You never…?”

“…Saw my mother’s body?” Seeker asked. Hawkeye nodded. “No,” she answered. “Honestly, I’m grateful to Theria for not allowing it. I can’t imagine having my last memory of my mother to be that of her lifeless form.” Seeker shook her head. “No, that would be awful.”

“You have no idea,” Hawkeye whispered.

*              *              *

Seeker’s gaze shot up to meet Hawkeye’s, his once dull grey eyes gleaming so bright a silver that she actually caught her breath. She felt so sorry for him, wanted to ask him –

At that moment, Theria snarled.

Behind Seeker, a stick snapped, shattering the frozen air. She watched as Hawkeye threw the past off as she would a cloak. His pain melted from him as he straightened, radiating power and strength. Hawkeye’s sword slid from its sheath with a metallic song. Seeker could see that it bore an engraving of some kind, but did not take the time to try and read it as she, too, rose to her feet to meet whatever danger now faced them. She noticed that Theria had disappeared into the white landscape.

A dozen Cyrenian soldiers stood at the far end of the clearing, one of them aiming an arrow at Hawkeye. He gave her a gentle shove toward Whisper. “Get out of here,” he muttered. Seeker shook her head in annoyance. She’d rather hoped that chivalry was dead; it got in the way of rational thought.

“No way in the Hell of Anochel am I leaving you here.” In a flash, her own bow was out and an arrow aimed at the leader of the squad. With either side sporting an archer, both lost the advantage that a bowman afforded. Hawkeye released his breath in what sounded suspiciously like a sigh of exasperation. “I will not run and hide while you get yourself killed,” she whispered angrily. But Hawkeye was no longer paying attention to her. His silver gaze was fixed on the captain of the Cyrenian unit.

“Look what we have here, boys,” the leader said, his voice ringing through the clearing. He leered gleefully at the two of them. “It’s a bit cold for a secret tryst in the woods, wouldn’t you say?” He had a cruel set to his face, and Seeker did not think it disingenuous to say that he also seemed rather stupid.

“Hello, Larkin.”

The Cyrenian’s shock at Hawkeye’s greeting matched Seeker’s own, but before she could register her surprise at Hawkeye’s recognition of the man, Hawkeye was gone from her side. Larkin backpedaled frantically, desperately trying to get out of the way as Hawkeye sprinted toward him. Three of Larkin’s soldiers stepped forward to attack his assailant.

Seeker had never seen Hawkeye in action. Just as he had been hypnotized by her skill with a bow, so was she in awe of his sword. But his grace with the blade far surpassed her abilities of the arrow. Of the twelve Cyrenians in the clearing, seven of them attempted to kill him. None of them succeeded.

He ducked and wove between them, taking on as few as one and as many as five at once. His sword sliced through the frozen air with as much violence as it did elegance.

Suddenly, Seeker heard the pounding of hooves, and turned just in time to see Zar arrive on his black stallion. The man leapt from his horse with surprising agility. Seeker loosed an arrow, which quickly ended the life of an enemy soldier about to run Zar through. He signaled his thanks before engaging another soldier.

Hawkeye felled the last of his foes before turning on Larkin, sword twirling with deadly beauty as he advanced.

Seeker glared down the shaft of her arrow at the two remaining soldiers, suspicious that neither of them stepped forward to aid their leader. Zar finished off his opponent and turned his sword on them before exclaiming in surprise.

The two men simply stared at Hawkeye in awe.

Hawkeye picked apart Larkin’s defenses in a matter of moments, relieving Larkin of his weapon and then dealing a vicious kick to the man’s chest.

The brutality of this last action horrified Seeker, so murderous did Hawkeye look as he held the tip of his sword under Larkin’s quivering chin.

“You haven’t gained much skill in ten years, have you, Larkin?” Hawkeye’s deep voice escaped from his throat with such malice that the man flinched, even as he looked up in confusion. Hawkeye’s tone shifted into irony as he asked, “Can an unarmed boy still knock you unconscious?”

Shock and recognition dawned on Larkin’s face. “It can’t be.” He looked into Hawkeye’s face, the white scar across the left eye apparently providing Larkin with some incontrovertible truth. “No. No, you are dead. We killed you!” He glanced at his companions for support. None seemed forthcoming.

“Oh, yes,” Hawkeye replied, drawing the affirmation into a snake’s hiss. “You did, indeed. As it happens, it is high time I returned the favor.” Seeker made some incoherent noise of protest as Larkin burst into tears. Hawkeye did not hear her or ignored her, bringing his sword up and executing an arc toward the sobbing man’s head. She need not have worried, it seemed, as the razor-sharp edge halted its decent an inch from Larkin’s neck.

Seeker’s gaze flicked back and forth between Hawkeye and his captive. The malevolence in Hawkeye’s face had faded into disgust, juxtaposed with a weariness that distracted from his obvious hatred of the man.

“I’m not going to kill you, Larkin, though by all rights I should.” Hawkeye sheathed his sword with unnecessary force.

Seeker stepped closer, bow trained on the other two men. Hawkeye reached out to her.

“They’re with me.”

She looked at him, startled, arrow still notched. The other bowman grinned and lowered his weapon. Both soldiers approached them. One walked over and kicked Larkin in the gut. He groaned and rolled over in pain.

The bowman, a sandy-haired man of about thirty, held out his hand to Hawkeye, who shook it with gusto. “I almost didn’t recognize you all grown up!”

The other soldier, an older man with brown hair and dark eyes, could only shake his head and smile. “I knew we hadn’t seen the last of you.”

“So what are a dozen Cyrenian soldiers doing in the outskirts of the Viridian capital?”

The younger man scowled. “Trillian heard a rumor that the soldiers responsible for the deaths of his generals are currently being sheltered by the queen. We were supposed to confirm or deny this rumor.” He surveyed the clearing. “We’re what’s left of the Third Battalion.”

Hawkeye frowned at this disconcerting information. “Rumor confirmed. I captain that unit, and it’s currently training in the city. What happened to the rest of you?”

“This idiot ran us around the mountains for months,” the other man said angrily. “Most of the men died of frostbite or pneumonia. The rest lost their lives to the wildcats out there.” He shook his head, then grinned at Hawkeye. “So, you lead the unit that’s befuddling Trillian’s military strategy. Now that is noble, working against him, even in death.”

“Yes, well, I had to do something,” Hawkeye said. “How is your brother, Morgan? And Celyn, your sister?”

The older man, Morgan, rolled his eyes. Celyn laughed and said, “They helped each other to escape, and then they eloped. Trillian still pretends like he has them captive and we pretend as if we don’t know they’re fine.”

Hawkeye grinned at them, clearly happy to hear of their relatives’ safety.

Seeker felt a numbness spreading throughout her body that had nothing to do with the ice around her. As soon as Hawkeye had spoken the Larkin’s name, she knew her constant companion of the past several months was not who she thought he was. But then, he hadn’t really told her anything about who he was.

                “Are you insane?!” Zar’s outrage exploded throughout the clearing, causing everyone to jump. He was advancing on Hawkeye with a fury. “I go up to knock on your door and Calder tells me that you went out riding alone. In fact, he told me that you go out – into the woods, by yourself – quite a bit.”

                “I can take care of myself, Zar.” The truth of this statement was evidenced by the bodies scattered around the clearing, but it was undermined by the defensiveness with which Hawkeye spoke.

                “You may think you can take care of yourself, but I know better. You are not safe. You will never be safe, and you would do well to assess the consequences of your actions.”

                Zar’s finger jabbed at Hawkeye’s chest, punctuating his sentences. Seeker glanced at Morgan and Celyn, each of which looked rather embarrassed. She got the distinct feeling that they knew exactly what was going on, and it seemed unfair that she did not. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Larkin slowly regaining his faculties. She walked over and knocked him out with her bow to release some of her frustration. No one noticed.

                Hawkeye’s voice rose. “You think I don’t know that my actions have consequences? Everything I’ve ever done has had implications far beyond me, Zar. At least out here I have some semblance of self.”

                Zar laughed, filling the clearing with a humorless sound that echoed off the still air. “You have no sense of self. You have forgotten who you are. You’ve run away and changed your name and lied to protect yourself. But there are thousands of people out there who need to know that you are alive, and there will always be at least one person out there who wants you dead. And you have to accept that, Kirren.”

                Hawkeye flinched.

                Zar kept going. “You have to survive, thwart every attempt on your life. You can delay your trip to Cyro, but the rebellion will never have the momentum to become a revolution without you, and you have to be prepared to kill that usurper and accept the responsibility that should have been yours the day your father breathed his last.” Zar was shouting now, fury causing his voice to shake. “I can’t help you if you won’t let me. Ordinary men can throw their lives away because their existence means nothing to the world at large. You are not an ordinary man, Kirren, and you do not have the luxury to live – and die – as such.” Zar drew breath, letting it out in a sharp hiss. “Do not be so selfish as to think that you are the only one who has lost everything, Your Highness.” Zar flung Hawkeye’s title at him with such force that Seeker could feel it in her very soul.

                She thought he had finished, but Zar lowered his voice and lingered a moment longer. “It’s time to come back from the dead, Kirren. The world needs you.”

                His anger finally exhausted, Zar turned away from Hawkeye. He gestured at the Cyrenians, who silently picked up Larkin and the three of them made their way toward the palace, prisoner in tow.

                Seeker looked up at the man she knew as Hawkeye. His gaze was already on her, silver eyes faded to cloudy grey, soulless and empty, as he waited for her to leave him, too. He expected her to abandon him now that the truth was out, as if she wouldn’t understand.

                And she was so angry that he thought so little of her that she did the most hurtful thing she could think of.

                She fulfilled his expectations and left him there.