Soulsworn by Terry C. Simpson Page B

dolls after her father and brother. She would often have them fight against an unseen foe.
    Nerisse seemed to be like her sister as far as a happier demeanor, but Aidah saw the difference in the girl: the wary eyes, the focus at night or at dawn as she watched the road behind them, or scowled in the direction of refugees who came too close to the wagons. The times she kept watch were the most unsettling. Nerisse would sit for hours without moving as she stared out the slit of an opening at the wagon’s rear. Each evening she practiced with Lomin.
    The new guards had been introduced on the first day. Lomin appointed Kitesh, a grizzled, gap-toothed Kasinian, as the lead scout. The Blade said the men were cyclers, capable of simple soul magic but not the ability to meld. Apparently all Kasinian melders were heading for Kasandar where King Ainslen offered a most generous pay for their services.
    Aidah didn’t quite grasp the difference between the two types, other than in strength, but she was glad the men did have some kind of power. Better a little than nothing. Other than Kitesh, Lomin kept them separate from her and the children, which was much to her liking. Even in her current predicament a sense of station had to be maintained.
    Lomin brought the wagons to the far side of a series of slopes that hid them from Torens and the Empire Road and set up camp. He sent Aran with five of the armsmen to procure supplies. Two of the other men were sent to watch the Empire Road with a third taking up position in a copse of oak trees atop a hill, their leaves ruddy orange.
    The sky was a washed out blue, clear for miles, Mandrigal a golden orb that somehow seemed dull. The world itself was darker, less alive, the foods she once enjoyed no longer so tasty. Every day was a struggle to rise. Faith and the children kept her going. If she relinquished her grasp on either she knew she would give in and succumb to despair. So it had been for her since she accepted that Kesta and Gaston were dead.
    Aidah took a seat on one of the stools she’d brought. Both Lomin and Nerisse had claimed the day was unusually warm, but all Aidah felt was a chill that made her wish she’d kept her coat. One of the byagas brayed before returning to its contented grazing, picking the sparse green amongst mostly yellowed grass. Nerisse was lying on a nearby blanket, eyes closed. Beside her, Clara played with her dolls, humming one of the songs Kesta often sang to her. Thankful they had gotten this far, Aidah whispered a prayer.
    Afternoon slipped into evening as they waited for Aran, Mandrigal’s light leaking away. The wind swirled for a moment, a cold gust that rustled the grass before it died down. Lomin turned four rabbits on a spit while the other two guards, Borin and Nartal, kept watch near the wagons. Aidah found herself wishing for the food she had in Garangal.
    A giggle made her glance in Clara’s direction to see the little girl chasing after a kagin fly, its feathery wings a swirl of red and blue the size of a palm. Clara stopped, brows furrowed, hand outstretched. The kagin fly’s wings flitted quickly, and then it turned toward Clara, glided, and came to rest in her palm. Joy to match Mandrigal’s glow radiated in Clara’s features. Aidah smiled. She’d never seen a kagin fly do that before, but surely it had to be a good sign, one from the Gods.
    Lomin strode over from the cook fire. “Good to see her like this.”
    “Yes, it is.” Aidah paused, hesitant, before she pushed on. “How’s her soul?”
    “More stable, but sometimes it seems to disappear, as if she has none at all. I’ve never seen a person’s soul do that before, but each person is different, and there’s much that’s still a mystery.”
    “Is it a bad thing?”
    Lomin shrugged. “Not as far as I can tell. I’ll still keep an eye on her.”
    “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Lomin returned to the cookfire to tend to his rabbits.
    Movement beyond Clara caught