The Gift of Battle

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Stara dug her heels into the horse’s ribs, spurring it on, faster and faster, tearing across the Great Waste, determined not to stop until she crossed this desert, until she crossed the world and found Reece. He was somewhere out there on the horizon, she knew, beyond the Waste, beyond the sea, out there with Thorgrin, on the search for Guwayne. She knew her chances of finding him were remote, that she may very well die out here in the Waste. But she didn’t care. As reckless as this was, she felt more joyful, more liberated, than she had in moons. She was free, finally, thrilled to be away from the Ridge, riding out under the open sky and following the desires of her own heart.

The safety of that Ridge, every moment she had been there, had been hell for her. She did not want safety: she wanted Reece. Danger meant nothing to her, if it stood between her and the man she loved most in the world. It was love, Stara finally realized, that mattered more than anything in the world—more than pleasures and riches and safety, more than any object she could want. It was love, and the freedom to pursue that love, that mattered. And that was what she had now.

Whether she died out here in this Waste, or somewhere at sea, none of that mattered—as long as she could be free to pursue her heart’s desires.

Stara galloped on the horse, her skin still raw from having raced through the Sand Wall, her lips dry, her throat parched, her skin burnt from the sun, her turban having fallen off long ago. She hadn’t stopped to get it, knowing that if she stopped moving for even one minute, she would never continue on through this Waste. The horse beneath her, too, was gasping, heaving, and Stara wondered how much longer they could go on. Somehow, she sensed, it understood the urgency of her mission, and without any prodding, raced forward on its own.

As the horse charged and charged, Stara tried to follow the general directions that Fithe had given her, going over them like a mantra again and again in her head: cross the Sand Wall, then head north. Follow the North Star, which shines by day and night. If you live, you will reach the canals. There, you may find a hidden vessel in the harbor, stowed for times of escape, hidden beneath the branches of the willows that grow on its shores. If they are even still there. Your quest will be long and hard, and you likely will not make it.

As Stara rode, she looked up time and again, looking for the North Star, knowing it was somewhere high overhead. Wispy clouds came in and out, and she no longer even knew if she was staying the course. She reached down instinctively and raised the sack of water to her mouth and squeezed—yet it was empty, dried out long ago. She chucked it, realizing she had nothing left.

Stara rode and rode, her legs aching, her back aching, her head beginning to droop, too tired to hang on. She felt herself slouching, felt that at any moment she might fall off her horse. She knew once she did, she would be finished. Reece, she thought, I love you.

Finally, when she thought she could not go no more, when she felt certain she might die out here, she felt the horse slowing, and she looked up. She felt them mounting a ridge, and as she looked up, she squinted, wondering if she were seeing things. She shook her head, realizing she was not, and her heart leapt within her: there, against the setting sun, was a shimmering body of water. The small rivers snaked every which way, ending in the desert.

The canals.

It was a startling sight, and as it came close into view, Stara was overcome with euphoria. Finally, the monotony of the Great Waste, the monotony she had never expected to finish, had come to an end.

Streams converged from a hundred rivers into a pool of water at the edge of the Waste, surrounded by a grove of willow trees, their branches hanging low, just as Fithe had said. Her heart beat faster at the sight. There was water. There was a path out, to the rivers, to the sea. There was the road to Reece. There was freedom.

Stara did not even need to kick the horse, which saw it, too, and increased its pace, racing down the ridge, not slowing until it reached the grove of trees at the edge of the water. Stara was so grateful for the shade, despite the sunset, and she dismounted as the horse bent over gratefully to lap the water. She fell down on her hands and knees beside it and began drinking, too.

Stara gulped the water, gasping; as she caught her breath, she splashed the cold water on her face, down her neck, in her hair, getting the dust of the desert off her. She knelt there for a moment, too tired to move, reveling in the sound of the willow branches as they stirred in the breeze off the water.

Finally the horse leaned over and licked her face, prodding her back up.

Stara regained her composure and as she sat up, she scanned the water, the branches, looking to see if there were any vessels still hidden. As she squinted, she thought she saw something hidden behind a clump of trees, as their branches swayed in the wind, and she hurried over and pushed back the branches.

There, she was elated to see, was a small vessel, rocking in the water, tied to shore, just large enough to hold her and one small sail. It had been well hidden beneath the trees and she thanked God for it, knowing that without it, she would die here.

Stara was about to get inside, to push off, when she remembered the horse. She turned, walked over to it, and stroked its face, looking into its eyes. It made a gesture as if to follow her into the boat, but she shook her head.

“It is a journey for me alone, my friend,” she said.

It made a soft neighing sound.

“I shall never be able to thank you,” she said. “You are free now. Roam the Waste, find a new home, answer to no man. You are free!”

The horse leaned in and licked her face and she kissed its head. It turned and ran off, never looking back.

Stara turned herself and slipped onto the boat. She extracted her small silver dagger, which she had carried with her from the Ring, and in one quick, decisive move, she severed the rope.

The currents caught her vessel, and as she raised her sail, she began to move into the widening river, gaining speed, into the sunset, out toward the open sea, and somewhere, she prayed, toward Reece.