to do with this fresh pain, save for saddle Tek and ride her and practice with his blades until exhaustion drove him straight into the ground.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
ARON
It was difficult, staying away from Dari and from Nic as well, but Aron managed it by riding Tek for hours each day, and by throwing himself even more completely into Stone’s weapons and combat training. He worked from sunrise to moonsrise, then collapsed into his bed, hoping to avoid any dreams or visions. Many nights, he was blessed with peaceful, dark sleep, but on some nights, he had nightmares of the massive heartwood made of Nic and Dari. The tree was dying, cleaved down the center and bleeding a pool of sap at the feet of the angry goddess who always seemed to hover at the edge of Aron’s awareness. Aron took this for an ill omen, a warning that the goddess would kill one or both of his friends, if given the opportunity, but he couldn’t understand why—or how that opportunity might present itself.
The day before Aron’s trial, High Master Falconer finally made his departure from Stone, leading with him a contingent of thirty-four children he had wrangled, argued, and bargained for with Lord Baldric. They departed with a scant escort of Stone Sisters, who had instructions to see them to the edge of the valley that contained Triune, where Falconer insisted his Thorn escort was to meet him.
Aron stood on the battlements with Raaf and Zed and Stormbreaker, watching them leave. Most of the children seemed happy and eager, but a few walked slowly and stopped often, as if they wanted to bolt and run back to the only home many of them had ever known. For those children, Aron’s heart ached.
“Falconer made a fevered argument for you to accompany them,” Stormbreaker said to Aron. “Had you expressed any desire to go, Lord Baldric might have agreed to allow you the freedom to choose.”
Stormbreaker’s assertion gave Aron pause, and he felt more pain in his chest. “Why? Haven’t I earned my place at Stone?”
“No one is certain if Stone’s traditions and laws should apply to you,” Stormbreaker said, keeping his eyes on the retreating caravan below.
“You’re different,” Raaf said as Triune’s main gates closed behind those who were departing.
“Not so different.” Zed snorted and punched Aron in the shoulder hard enough to make him stumble against the rock abutment in front of him. “If I pitch him off this wall, he’ll break and bleed like anybody else.”
Raaf looked offended and Stormbreaker gave Zed a worried glance, but Aron laughed. “And if I spit in the wind, I’ll get wet for my troubles.”
“Exactly,” said Zed. “Now come with me. We’re going to the main kitchens, and you’re going to eat enough to sustain you through your trial. It’ll be a new tradition, one we’ll follow when I’m ready for my own trial.”
Aron smiled and nodded, then followed Zed off the battlements, feeling vaguely odd about facing his test before Zed, though Zed had come to Triune before he did. As Stormbreaker had told him upon his arrival, though, the time of trial was different for everyone. Zed hadn’t asked for the privilege as yet. In fact, he told Aron he didn’t feel ready.
I’m quick with weapons, but slow in my thinking, he had told Aron a few days ago. Until I get that sorted out, I better keep my tunic and breeches.
As always, Zed’s shameless honesty served as a model for Aron, and he wondered if Zed knew how much his manner influenced everyone around him.
“I can eat, too,” Raaf called out from behind Aron as he ran to catch up with them. “I can always eat.”
Zed snickered and slowed his pace, and Aron and Raaf fell into step beside him.
“I’m glad to see the back of that Thorn Brother,” Zed said as they reached the bottom of the battlement steps. “I hope he doesn’t come back.”
“Thorns fester,” Raaf observed. “But stones can crush them.”
“Except thorns grow high above stones.” Aron thrust his nose into the air so high he would drown if a sudden rain exploded from the sky. “Didn’t you know?” he asked with the best accent he could muster, and Raaf and Zed laughed with him.
Still, as they left the battlements behind, Aron couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder, squinting to see through the passageway of the main keep, to where the massive wooden doors stood still and firm between him and the departed Thorn Brother.
Thorns fester. Aron