Martin mentally checked off another town in his mind. After half a week’s travel, they were that much closer to Santollia City, that much closer to home. As much as he needed to do this year long travel, he was anxious to be home. He missed his family. Having Adosina, Nathaniel, Rosa, and the boys here only strengthened those feelings.

It had been a long day, and this town had again been most welcoming. Indenuel had been the gracious, if quiet guest. It was enough. Indenuel simply existing brought the hope which had been in such short supply the last five years.

Martin took off his High Elder robes when there was a knock at the door. “Letters from the High Elders, sir,” Derio said.

“Slid them under the door and get some sleep, Derio,” Martin said.

“Very well, sir,” Derio said.

He didn’t like the staff to see him out of his High Elder robes too much, even though he still wore a simple shirt and pants underneath. Besides, it was getting late and Derio was always the first to wake up.

Martin stretched before picking up the papers Derio had slid under the door. The High Elders asked more questions about Indenuel, as well as some minutes from their latest meetings. Martin sat at the desk with a candle. The Graduate Tolomon had been sent with orders to get there as fast as possible, which meant possibly a week or two. It made Martin relax. Knowing a Graduate was coming meant Indenuel would be safe from anyone who wanted to hurt him. So far the three towns had been most gracious, but there were some radicals out there. Tolomon and Nathaniel were great friends, so Martin knew him enough to vouch for his excellent character.

A firmer knock shook the door. "Father!” Adosina said.

“Come, Addy,” Martin said, glancing at the door. Yes, Adosina sounded angry, but he didn’t expect the door to fly open and for Adosina to storm in. Martin cocked his eyebrow. “Addy?”

“Permission to speak freely?” Adosina asked, the rage hardly contained in her voice.

“I am certain you will still speak your mind whether I give you permission or not.” Martin set the papers down and stood from the desk. “What is it?”

“You will be happy to know I’ve contained most of my rage until now, difficult as it has been.”

“What happened?” Martin asked as he walked over to close the door.

“Api, I think the world of you. I truly do. But you have no right to force love where love will never be. Do not harass Indenuel into a courtship. I will never accept,” Adosina said.

Martin shook his head in amazement. Adosina said all the proper words, but there was still an undercurrent of anger that proved she had much growing up to do in this regard. He prepared himself for another verbal sprawl with her. “It is not proper for a woman of your age to remain unwed.”

“‘Proper’ is a more elite mob demanding people act in a certain way, but a mob all the same,” Adosina said.

Martin folded his arms. “I knew I would regret sending you off to school.”

“Oh, believe me Api. I did not learn that from my instructors,” Adosina said.

“You have become a beautiful young woman, my child. I’m sure, given time, Indenuel will become quite enamored with you.”

“Neither he nor I want it,” Adosina said. “He was far more comfortable as my friend than as a potential suitor, I assure you. My intention with Indenuel is friendship, nothing more.”

Martin should have stopped discussing the matter. It was a sensitive topic for Adosina, but the girl had to come to terms with reality soon. “Your mother and I started out as friends once, too. We didn’t necessarily love each other, that grew with time. Now we adore each other.”

The anger in Adosina’s eyes flickered dangerously. “Don’t Api.”

“When you are in high society such as ours, there are some things you must sacrifice for the comforts of living,” Martin said.

“I refuse to believe love is one of them,” Adosina said.

“The High Elders will never allow you to marry that farm boy, Adosina. It’s been three years,” Martin said.

“His name is Elias!” Adosina snapped. “We have done everything for you! We have refused to court, we have refused to touch, and I have refused to tell others about my wish to marry him, but we are growing weary. Weary enough to elope!”

Martin rubbed his temples, exasperated. She used the threat of elopement since the second month she met that boy, and yet here she stood. “It can never work. You are too far in the upper class. He is too poor.”

“Elias and I will appeal the High Elders every Day of Beseeching for the rest of our lives until my request to have my titles revoked is granted. We’ve made an oath to each other,” Adosina said.

Martin let out a frustrated groan. How could Adosina be such an incredible, grownup woman at times, and revert to a child the next? “And we as the High Elders will continue to decline your request. Do you even understand what you’re asking? To have your titles and status stripped away to marry that boy?”

“His name is Elias,” Adosina said, emphasizing every syllable in his name.

“This love is fleeting and young,” Martin said. “It doesn’t have roots.”

“It’s been three years, Api,” Adosina said. “Three. Years.”

“More a testament to your pride than it is to your love.” It was said harshly, Martin knew. Talking about this with Adosina always brought ill feelings, and none of them resolved quickly. Adosina folded her arms. Martin waited for her to leave, but she didn’t.

“I guess you would be the expert on how fast love can grow. After all, it’s only been a year and a half since Inessa was given to you.”

Every muscle in Martin’s body stiffened. Anger threatened to take over his logic. He went far, but Adosina went farther. She knew exactly what strings to pull to make him angry. Sometimes his biggest blessing and biggest trial was having such a stubborn, intelligent girl for a daughter.

“Leave my room,” Martin said, his voice leaving no space for her to argue.

Adosina seemed to know she went too far, though she said nothing as she turned and left. Martin stood, arms folded, anger flooding his system. He went back to his chair at the desk, his hands shook as he went over the notes for the meetings. It wasn’t working. Instead, he blew out the candle and closed his eyes to meditate, trying to channel the anger in a positive way. This was not about Inessa. He refused to spend one moment thinking about her since he left Santollia City a year ago, and he would continue to pretend she didn’t exist.

Instead, he focused his energy on Adosina. He loved Adosina deeply and wanted what was best for her, but she wanted to go a different way. Adosina only ever knew the luxurious life as a daughter of a High Elder. She had no idea what it would be like to have her status and titles stripped and live as a simple farmers wife. He did what was best for her. As much as she hated it, Martin truly believed she would thank him one day for this.

***

The routine of it all helped Indenuel finally relax. Wake up, get in the carriage, go over stances with Nathaniel in the morning, physically go through them at lunchtime with a sword, then continue exercising to build his muscle before arriving at the next town and spend time with Martin healing or delivering messages to the living or the dead, or on the rare occasion, help other weather controllers.

The routine started to be such a comfort that it jarred him when Sabbath came again. Martin stopped Indenuel before he headed to the carriages, reminding him it was Sabbath, and therefore a day of rest. Indenuel laughed about it but was rather annoyed at this stop in schedule. Martin was more anxious than any of them to be on their way to Santollia City. They could cut their traveling by four days if they traveled on the Sabbath, but he wasn’t about to suggest that to a High Elder.

So Indenuel did his duty as the Warrior, arrived at the chapel, smiled and greeted the enthusiastic townsfolk, and listened to Martin’s sermon. Indenuel didn’t pay too much attention at first, but the way Martin spoke drew him in.

The sermon was different, one full of hope and security. The Warrior had come, blessed with all four God-given gifts, and though no one had all four since before the Great Flood, Martin assured them the average townsfolk could indeed strengthen their powers to the point where they could branch out into other powers. Indenuel hadn’t thought about it before, but Martin was right. He gave examples of tree talkers creating balms which mimicked the healing power. The weather controllers so powerful they healed the ground below where no other tree talker could possibly reach. Speakers of the dead who could keep the spirits in the body of the person until the healer arrived. Martin talked of his own experience as a healer, when one of his family members had been hurt quite badly. As he healed them, he saw glimpses of their future like their spirit let him see the trajectory of their life. Like prophecy, something no one could do since the time of the four powers.

Could Indenuel one day see into the future? Like prophets of old? He hadn’t thought about it before now.

“All four gifts are connected. Just because you are a tree talker, doesn’t mean you cannot heal. Just because you are a weather controller, you still greatly affect how tree talkers can use their powers. Healers and speakers to the dead have many aspects to them that are interconnected.”

It seemed so odd to hear Martin say that, yet it also made sense to Indenuel. Something about the powers needed to work off each other, and even if a person only had one, there was a sense of familiarity with the other three.

Though Indenuel didn’t enjoy having to break for the Sabbath, at the end of the day it was needed. He felt far more refreshed and ready to take on tomorrow’s travels.

***

“I think we’re ready to face each other again,” Nathaniel said at lunchtime the next day.

Indenuel hesitated. “With swords?”

Nathaniel smiled as he tossed Indenuel’s sheathed sword to him as his answer. Indenuel partially unsheathed it, his heart pounding in nerves. “Isn’t there a way to make them not as sharp?”

“It’s what we use to practice with at the King’s Militia,” Nathaniel said, taking out his sword and doing basic stance. Indenuel did everything in his power not to back away, and for that he was proud of himself.

“What if one of us gets hurt?” Indenuel didn’t bother specifying who he assumed would get hurt more.

“They have healers there. And we have me and my father here.” Nathaniel waved at Martin, who waved back. “It’s what the Militia uses to make it as realistic as we possibly can. Getting used to fighting with cuts and bruises is as important as learning to fight with the sword.”

Indenuel swallowed before pulling the sword out the rest of the way and dropping the sheath on the ground. Indenuel made the basic stance, trying desperately to not look as terrified as he felt.

Nathaniel wasn’t fooled. “We will stop whenever you want. And I promise I will not hurt you with my sword today.”

Indenuel nodded. “Alright.”

“Let’s go slow.”

That was what Nathaniel said before he went for a blow. Indenuel blocked it out of instinct, closing his eyes tight as he heard the clang of the metal instead of the soft thud of wood. Indenuel cracked an eye open. Nathaniel nodded, a smile on his face. “Good, Indenuel. Again.”

Nathaniel went for another blow, and Indenuel blocked it, again closing his eyes and turning his head away, taking a deep breath. He didn’t drop his sword, he didn’t back away, but this still awoke a primal fear in him he couldn’t ignore.

“Indenuel?” Nathaniel asked.

“Fine. Keep going,” Indenuel said. He wasn’t fine, but he was the Warrior. It had been over a week since news spread. Yes, he tried to remember what Martin told him about ignoring other people’s expectations, but he couldn’t arrive at the King’s Militia flinching and dropping his sword. He had to work through this.

Indenuel opened his eyes, ready for Nathaniel’s next jab. Nathaniel went for a dangerous jab to his stomach, which Indenuel barely blocked, letting out a breath in shock.

“Good, Indenuel. Good,” Nathaniel said. “Let’s go again.”

Indenuel blocked blow after blow. Nathaniel was going faster, whether he knew it or not. The sword pulled at Indenuel’s muscles as he blocked them, the anxiety and fear trickling through his system.

He’s not going to hurt me, Indenuel said over and over to ease his panicked mind, even as the huge, sharp sword came inches from his arm. Nathaniel is helping me.

“Good. Now try to get me,” Nathaniel said.

Indenuel hesitated before lunging toward Nathaniel. Nathaniel blocked it easily. He said nothing, just gave another encouraging smile. Indenuel didn’t want to hurt Nathaniel, though it was becoming clear Indenuel would most likely never be able to hurt Nathaniel. He was too good at sword fighting. He lunged again with more feeling to it, and again, Nathaniel blocked it easily. Indenuel went for it, trying to catch Nathaniel off guard, but he easily blocked it.

“Come on, Indenuel,” Nathaniel said, a surprising amount of warmth to his voice. “You can’t learn the sword if you’re afraid to hurt me. Are you ready to give it a go?”

Indenuel tightened his grip over his sword before bringing it back to basic position. “I think so.”

“Then let’s go,” Nathaniel said.

As Indenuel went to strike him, the smallest part of him was still afraid he would hurt Nathaniel, but again Nathaniel’s sword easily knocked the point out of the way. Nathaniel went with a blow of his own, and Indenuel surprised himself by blocking it. The sword wabbled dangerously in Indenuel’s hand, but it stayed there. Nathaniel smiled. “Good!” Indenuel nodded before trying another strike which Nathaniel easily blocked.

Nathaniel came down hard on Indenuel’s sword, and it flew out of his hands. It threw him off balance and he landed flat on his back. Even in the defenseless position he was in, it wasn’t until Nathaniel pointed his sword at Indenuel’s chest that panic took hold.

Danger! His mind screamed.

Instinctually Indenuel reached out physically and mentally, breaking the will of the trees, letting out a gasp.

Save me!

“Inden-” Nathaniel stopped and looked down. A branch had wrapped around his ankle. He had no time to react before the branch heaved him into the air. He let out a grunt as his face smacked against the ground, his sword biting into Indenuel’s leg before he dangled dangerously far above the campsite, blood dripping from his head, his eyes closed. Rosa screamed.

“No!” Indenuel was painfully aware he wasn’t the only one shouting. Eduardo and Diego leapt forward, trying to do something. Indenuel forced the tree to drop Nathaniel without thinking. Nathaniel was unconscious and unable to catch his fall from up among the tree branches, and his boys wouldn’t be able to catch him. Indenuel allowed the corruption to work inside him to force another tree’s will to break, the corruption burned ice cold on his chest. He used his arms to guide the branch to grab Nathaniel out of the air, trying to keep him from landing headfirst on the ground. The branch caught a hold of Nathaniel, though it did little more than slow the fall as he slipped off the branch and fell flat on his back.

Indenuel turned and ran, breaking through the barrier of the High Elder’s carriage and sprinting past the dirt road into the wooded area, ignoring the deep cut in his leg. No one stopped him as everyone focused on Nathaniel. Indenuel couldn’t face them. Not after what he’d done.