Dnara stretched out one leg towards the ground and slid from the saddle. As promised, Ren caught her with strong hands around the waist and eased her feet down to the earth. Dnara got her legs under her and glanced back up at Aldric, daunted by how far up she’d been.
“Not used to horses?” Ren asked as Aldric moved onward to the front of his soldiers.
“No,” Dnara replied. “My first time riding one was two nights ago. Well, riding one while conscious, at least. And it was a mule. Sort of.”
Ren stared at her for a long moment then ushered her to the wagon. “A wagon is a bit bumpier a ride, but it’s lower to the ground and you can sleep if you want.”
Dnara climbed up into the wagon, finding it full of food stock, rolled tents, spare armaments and a few barrels. She yawned, and considered sleep, but then her stomach gave complaint. “Do you have any rations? It’s been some time since I last ate.”
“Sure.” Ren climbed up and sat across from her near the open end of the wagon. “I’m Renata, by the way, but everyone calls me Ren. Helps the boys forget I’m a girl under this armor.”
Ren knocked twice on the sideboard with a metal fist, sending a vibration up to the driver. The slapping of reins and a whistle followed. The wagon jolted roughly forward then smoothed out as the oxen pulling it found their rhythm. Dnara glance back to the men on horseback following in rows of two behind the wagon. The two men in front openly eyed her with uncertain expressions. She pulled her cloak up around her and considered raising the hood, but she thought that may raise suspicions, too. Trying to ignore the stares, she focused on the soldier across from her.
“I’m Dnara, but I guess the commander already told you that.”
“He did,” Ren confirmed. “But he also said we are to treat you as a guest, so... It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Dnara.”
Dnara relaxed at Ren’s welcoming attitude. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I didn’t know there were women in the King’s Guard.”
“I’m the only one,” she replied, then looked around at the wagon’s inventory before settling on a canvas bag and dragging it over to her feet. “The commander picked me, I think, hoping I’d help with the womenfolk at the farms and such.” She laughed a bit at that. “After a few weeks, he said to me, ‘Ren, I’m glad you can hold a sword better than most of my men, because you’re worse at calming down the women than they are.’ Which is the gods’ honest truth.”
“I can imagine it would be difficult to calm anyone down who has to watch their farm burn,” Dnara said without thinking.
“True, that,” Ren replied without argument. “Been in the King’s Army for six years, though, and the Guard for two. We’ve all got families and have been touched by the blight in some way. I have to think there’s reason behind our orders. A bigger picture we can’t see, and thinking too hard on it can lead to blightmadness.”
Dnara knew all too well about only seeing part of a whole and how trying to see the completed puzzle without all the answers could frustrate to the point of insanity. “Well, you’ve helped me calm down, so thank you.”
Ren’s expression brightened at that. “You’re welcome. I don’t get to talk to women that much these days, so I sort of forget how to after a while. Boys are easy. They’re all grunts and posturing and whose sword is bigger than whose.” Ren finished with a snorted chuckle.
“Are there not many women in the King’s Army?” Dnara asked.
“More than you’d think are looking to sign up.”
“Safer to hold a sword than a baby, I’ve heard,” Dnara said then frowned at her own words. “Sorry, that sounds-”
“Like exactly how it is,” Ren interrupted as she rustled through the bag. “It’s a harsh truth of this world, not that I’m interested in holding babies anyhow. I’ve always preferred fighting boys than the idea of marrying one. Not that there’s much marrying to be had these days.”
Ren stopped talking, opened the bag wider then pushed her hand all the way to the bottom with a frustrated knit of her eyebrows. “It’s not often you see a grown mageborne out in the wild, either.”
“I’ve only recently come into this magic,” Dnara admitted in the face of Ren’s kind, talkative nature.
“Oh, strange, that.” Ren paused and pulled out a package from the bag with a tugging grunt.
“So I’ve been told.”
Ren chuckled a bit. “Normally, your kind are children when they get the magic.” She set the bag aside and unhooked a waterskin from a hook screwed into the wagon’s top beam. “And the parents give them over to a covenant without hesitation, otherwise...”
“Otherwise?” Dnara asked as Ren trailed off.
Ren held out the wrapped package and water skin before replying with slow, carefully chosen words. “Guess not everyone knows, because it’s so rare, but mageborne that ain’t had proper training can be dangerous. Not just to others, but to themselves, too. Once had a lad, a few winters younger than you, out near Northlake. His parents didn’t want to give up their only son and thought they could handle it.”
Dnara stopped unwrapping the corncake ration. “They couldn’t?”
Ren grimaced, as if regretting having brought it up, but answered. “Sometimes, those with the magic, they go mad. Not blightmad, like regular folks. It’s something else, like the magic’s fighting to be let out. Not his fault, mind you, but proper training and a covenant’s help might have saved them.”
“Saved them?” Dnara asked, leaning forward despite fearing the answer.
“The poor boy, he exploded, like that colored skyfire magic the
