Young Writers Society

Miles nudged Devlin as they scavenged for firewood in the fading light. Devlin grunted acknowledgment as he reached down for a pile of twigs.

Miles pointed toward Gwyn who had sunk up against a pine with both arms crossed and eyes downcast. Realizing that Devlin wasn’t paying any attention to him, Miles cleared his throat. Devlin looked up.

“What?”

Miles pointed again. “What’s wrong with her? She’s barely said a word since we left the Inn.”

Devlin grabbed more twigs and began to walk toward Gwyn and Malcolm’s spot. There was a slight rise in the ground that blocked most of the ground.

“Her family was killed. She hasn’t said much of anything since Carris left. They must be close friends.”

Miles nodded slowly. They dropped the twigs in a pile and began to clear away a spot for a fire. Devlin scrunched up some of the dried twigs and a few leaves that he had found sticking out of the snow.

“Light,” he said.

Miles handed him the flint and stone without breaking gaze off of Gwyn who only a few feet away was completely oblivious to Miles. He leaned in as the fire crackled to life at Devlin’s third attempt. “Do you know how they died?”

Devlin shrugged as he babied the fire with small puffs that fanned the budding flames. “Something about the dragon. She was hysterical though. Why the interest?”

Miles put a hand in the air. “She must be struggling. I just feel bad for her. It’s got to be a lot to deal with at her age.”

Devlin bit his lip. “I’m not exactly an orator with my words. Why don’t you have a go if you’re so interested?”

“Maybe I will.”

Miles covered the distance between him and Gwyn. He leaned against the rise where the tree curled out, leaving a foot or so between Gwyn so as to not come off as intrusive. He rubbed his hands together.

“I never caught your name,” he said. There was no response from Gwyn. “Mine’s Miles. I’m a musician. Do you like music?”

Still nothing.

Miles furrowed his brow. “You know, my mother loved music. She could never get enough of it. She often sang throughout the day, old ballads and poems that she heard.” His voice softened as he looked into the dying sun. “She had a beautiful voice. Like a soft breeze over a field of flowers hums in the summertime and you feel a warm fire in your heart. She used to sing me to sleep as a child.”

Miles cleared his throat as he realized the knot tightening in his chest. There was a rustle and he looked down to see Gwyn staring up at him. Her eyes were dark with just a hint of a reflection of light. There were dark rings around her eyes which were themselves a pinkish red.

“Did you lose your mother?” she asked quietly.

Miles nodded. “She was killed in a Sadorian raid. I was fourteen. It was seven years ago this past week.”

Gwyn blinked, and Miles looked away. Those eyes were all too familiar. There was an innocence to them, and a look of confusion and pain.

There were several moments of quiet, save for Devlin’s scraping and clanging as he got a pot and pan ready for dinner. Miles snapped his fingers which caused Gwyn to jump.

“Sorry about that,” Miles offered with a slight grin. “You know, we’re going to need some water for tea. Would you like to help me get it? The creek is just through those trees past Devlin.”

Gwyn nodded, rising slowly without unfolding her arms. She shifted on her feet. Miles stepped ahead and snatched up the pot. “Grabbing some water,” he said to Devlin. I’m taking-” he hesitated as he gestured to Gwyn.

“Gwyn,” she whispered.

Miles just caught it and grinned. “Gwyn. She’s coming with me.” Gwyn skirted the fire that grew as Devlin fed it larger sticks.

Miles smiled as he led the way. “I quite like that name.”

He couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw Gwyn’s lips tug upwards. At the least, he had gotten her name. That was a good start.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Devlin blew into his hands and then stuck them towards the fire. It was finally large enough to produce flames that lapped at his face as he stood. It was a large fire for sure, but he was also sure that no one was nearby, leastwise not Eridan. Besides, was freezing to death any better than being impaled by a sword? He eyed Malcolm who was on his knees across the fire, hands also out toward the flames as he thawed out from the icy trip that day.

“So you want revenge?” Devlin said in a matter-of-fact tone as he rummaged in his satchel for the bread and eggs that had been gently wrapped in hay and swaddled in linen for safekeeping.

“Yeah,” Malcolm snapped.

Devlin shook his head and laughed. “Easy there. It’s not a bad thing. You were wronged. You want to get justice for that wrong. It’s a natural response. And a powerful one at that.”

Malcolm shrugged. “What’s your point?”

“Do you think Carris made it to Atheron?”

Malcolm scoffed. “No.”

“Neither do I.”

Malcolm raised his eyebrows. “Then why did you send her?”

“It was worth a shot. Eridan needs to be stopped, by any means necessary.”

“You mean at any cost,” Malcolm interjected.

Devlin shrugged. “In the army, you learn that the mission is the highest priority, not the means by which the mission is accomplished. Winner takes all. It isn’t about right or wrong, it’s about survival and taking what you want. If that means losing soldiers in the process, so be it.”

“So that’s what Carris is to you? Just a means to an end? And what of the rest of us?”

“I was willing to make the run to Atheron. And don’t forget, you pushed her to do it as well. I said that the army teaches you it’s the end that matters, not that it’s my personal conviction.”

Devlin ladled the eggs out onto a plate and offered them to Malcolm. “I wouldn’t be taking you and Gwyn with me if all I cared about was stopping Eridan.”

Malcolm took the plate and let the steam swirl in his face. Finding warmth wherever possible was a habit one acquired when living on a mountain.

Devlin sank to his haunches. “You don’t seem to care for Carris anyway. What’s the story there?”

Malcolm looked at his boots. “Nothing.”

Devlin rolled his eyes. “You know one thing the army teaches that I do agree with wholeheartedly is trust. You want revenge. If you plan to stick with me, that means I need to know I can trust and rely on you. That means communication and understanding.”

Malcolm took a few bites of the eggs, chewing them round and round. Finally, he swallowed. “Fine,” he said, placing the plate on the snowy ground. “She betrayed me. We were friends. She ruined my family.”

Devlin put his hands together over his lips. “How?”

Malcolm cleared his throat and looked off into the darkened forest. “Why does this matter? What does my personal life have to do with trust?”

“Because everything we live through, everything we suffer through and rejoice through, molds us as a person. I need to know that you won’t turn on me because of a perceived wrong I commit. We don’t know what stopping Eridan will take, but it might involve sacrifices you won’t like one bit. I need to know that you can separate what is necessary from what is comfortable.”

Malcolm sighed. “Fine. We were best friends. Her mom is a whore at the local inn. Carris said she found her and my dad together. My mom left. Dad struggled. Everyone felt sorry for Carris. She’s got no dad, so it was ‘so terrible’ to see her mother not taking ‘proper care’ of her.”

Malcolm cleared his throat and pushed himself up to his feet. He wiped his nose and ran his hands through his hair. “Happy? There it is. Best day of my life. Betrayed by my friend, estranged from my town and mum. And who got blamed? My dad. Screwy, that’s what it is,” he said. His eyes glimmered with tears in the firelight. He huffed and balled them with his fists.

Devlin inhaled. “That’s rough.” He paused, totally unsure of what to say. Miles would have been up in a second, consoling him with some flowery sentence that was sappy and yet too heartfelt to be fake at the same time.

“I know what it’s like to be betrayed. I know what it’s like to want revenge. We’ll both get it. I promise you that.”

“We?” Malcolm said, turning back to face Devlin, his eyebrows raised again.

“We trust each other. We’re a unit.”

“Why do you care to help me?”

Devlin let a crooked smile escape. “For one thing, the more numbers on your side the better, and for a second, if we don’t work together you’ll die trying to stop Eridan alone. I was raised and told over and over that I would be special, that I could protect and restore my country to what it used to be. For the first time in a long time, it feels like that might actually be the case.” Devlin stood and looked in the direction of Atheron. “Malcolm, I can promise you that we will find Eridan, and I can promise you that we will get revenge.”