“What?” the man said with his mouth open.
Quint wove a distraction string, which worked despite the bandit’s shield. The man looked around, dazed. It was enough time for Quint to take a club and hit the bandit over the head. The man crumpled to the floor.
Running to Amaria, he tried to shake her awake, but his weakness string was too strong. He ran to the horses and grabbed hers, leading it to the porch. Quint dragged Amaria’s bound body out of the cabin and draped her body sideways on the horse, leading her through the forest to his horse, and then he took Amaria out of the track and onto the road.
Quint looked both ways, wondering how the bandits knew where they would be. Was there a tracking string cast on Amaria? He shook his head. Quint didn’t know. He found the map he had given Amaria and traced a new path to the invasion camp just inside the border of Racellia and set off heading north instead of returning to the crossroads and turning back to the east.
Amaria didn’t wake up until they approached a small village. Quint stopped and let her struggle with her bonds for a few moments before he cut the ropes and helped her stand. She was still woozy from the spell.
“What happened? You broke through the door on your second try,” she snorted. “I do remember that, and then I fainted,”
“They were about to do their worst to you,” Quint said.
“Don’t remind me,” Amaria said, rubbing her forehead.
“You asked me what happened. How were you involved in all this? I heard some of your discussion with the kidnappers.”
“It sounds like something my father would have arranged,” she said.
“How did they know where we’d be?” Quint asked.
Amaria shrugged.
Quint wasn’t going to let that gesture slide. “Is there such a thing as a tracking string where a person can be found?”
Amaria shook her head, but the blush on her cheeks told Quint she lied.
“I’ll talk to Pozella about it,” Quint said.
“If you make it back to Bocarre,” Amaria said.
Quint sighed. “Why attack me? I’m just a boy.”
“It isn’t who you are but who you might become,” Amaria said. “That’s what my father told me. He wouldn’t say anymore.”
It was Quint’s turn to shrug. “Even if he used a portent spell, they don’t always speak the truth in a way you can understand. Why would anyone waste a spell on me?”
“You are a Level 3 at sixteen and could be a Master before your next birthday. Given time and practice, you could become a threat to Racellia.”
Quint had to laugh. “A sixteen-year-old is a threat to a country? I’m as much a Racellian as you are.”
Amaria narrowed her eyes. “But you are a hubite.”
“That doesn’t make me an enemy of the people.”
“No, an enemy to the willots,” Amaria said. She rubbed her shoulders, and tears began to flow. “I don’t know what I’m thinking.”
“Shock, most likely. Let’s get to the next village and get you a good night’s sleep if you promise not to kill me,” Quint said.
“Were they going to violate me?” Amaria asked.
Quint nodded. “It sounded like it to me, but I wouldn’t let them.”
“Why? I’m your enemy,” Amaria said, trying to blink away the tears.
“Maybe I’m your enemy, but you aren’t mine. You are very irritating, yes, but I wouldn’t attack you or let anyone else do it,” Quint said.
They had to share a room in the tiny pub, the only place available in the village. It wasn’t as small as Quint feared, and there were four beds in the large room.
“I’ll sleep here, and you can sleep across the room,” Quint told Amaria. “I’ve paid for one bath, and you are the one that needs it. I’ll sleep in my uniform.”
Amaria nodded and left with one of her bags. Quint could tell she hadn’t recovered from the shock of her experience. He had no idea what was happening inside her head, but Quint had already decided to report to his assignment and then return to Bocarre alone.
He half expected there to be a few companies of soldiers assigned to kill him if he stuck around. Quint made a few notes about the tracking string and looked through his list to see if anything was close to that, but he didn’t see anything. He documented the effects of the distraction string.
Quint would have named it Disorientation rather than Distract, and that was how he would think of it in the future. He quickly concluded it wasn’t the best string under the circumstances, but it was the weapon at hand, and it worked this time only because it broke through the kidnapper’s shield.
If he ever became too proud of his Level 3 ranking, he only had to remember the day’s mistakes. There were too many of them. Quint had so much to learn. He had a toolbox of strings but little skill in their use.
He removed his shoes and stockings and lay on his bed after invoking another shield thread. He stared up at the ceiling in the candlelight and wondered if Amaria spoke the truth about a portent string identifying Quint as a person of importance. He had no idea how that could happen in Racellia. Quint would be happy if he could survive the next week.
Amaria walked in, rubbing her hair with a towel. She looked clean and more in possession of herself.
“Impressed with my lies about you?” she said.
Quint noticed the blush but said nothing.
