Barrow didn’t look back to see if she had managed to get herself into the saddle. Ember hadn’t quite caught him when he passed through the gate, Toshach’s pace steadily increasing. When he hit the valley floor and Toshach broke into a gallop, Ember began to wonder if this ride wasn’t intended as some kind of punishment after all, one in which Barrow would force her to ride hard without any aid should she lose control of Caber. She leaned forward, letting Caber leap into a flat run. He stretched out, flowing over the ground like a gale in pursuit of Toshach.
The path Barrow took led in the opposite direction from their previous day’s ride. Toshach tore through the glen. Soon Tearmunn was a speck and Loch Duich a shadow in the distance. They rode east for an hour. The clouds had broken through the night and sunlight filled the glen with the impish gleam of spring. Ember found the pace exhilarating, smiling as the sun warmed her back and the wind pulled strands of hair free of the braid to tickle her cheeks. Caber reveled in their speed as well, giving a whinny of triumph when he finally caught Toshach. Barrow still didn’t look over his shoulder, but the slight tilt of his head made Ember smile, knowing he was fully aware of her approach.
Toshach began to slow, first to a canter and then to a trot as Barrow turned his mount south. With the horses blowing hard, they began to climb the hillside, leaving the open valley for the cover of trees. Though Ember couldn’t make out any path, Barrow kept Toshach moving forward. They wove through the dense pines, their path twisting but leading steadily upward. Sunlight battled the trees’ heavy shadows, its golden blades periodically splitting the darkness to mark their progress.
Now that her attention wasn’t captivated by the thrill of Caber’s strength and speed, Ember found herself waiting for some acknowledgment from Barrow. The forest around them was unnervingly quiet. The pine trees surrounding them rose straight and solemn like pillars of a temple. Her own breath seemed blasphemously loud.
Ember was chewing on her lip, fighting the impulse to speak and quell her anxiety, when a new sound drew her attention. At first she thought it was wind rustling through the trees. But the sound was steadier than the rise and fall of fickle spring gusts. And it was growing louder. Her head cocked to the side, Ember concentrated on the noise, trying to discern its source.
Barrow reined in Toshach and dismounted. He turned to look at her for the first time since they’d left Tearmunn.
“We’ll leave the horses here,” he said. “Don’t worry. Toshach knows this place well. They won’t wander.”
He gave no further explanation but watched her, waiting. Ember slid out of the saddle. She murmured her thanks to Caber, taking a moment to stroke his bowed neck and convey her reluctance to part from him.
During the ride Ember had forgotten the new additions to her wardrobe, but now that she was walking, the wheels beat rhythmically against her hips. Their presence was oddly comforting, since she still had no idea how to wield them. As she followed Barrow up a gentle rise, the persistent sound grew in intensity to a quiet roar. Ember had guessed what the cause of the rushing noise was by the time the waterfall came into view, but she wasn’t prepared for the sight that met her eyes.
Her breath caught at the web of white water that cut through stone. The stream didn’t throw itself from a sheer precipice to strike a pool far below. Instead the water had wound its way between ancient rock, splitting into three rivulets and glistening like enormous threads of spider silk.
Barrow carefully made his way between the jutting rocks, descending until he reached the place where the falls settled into a narrow stream that wound its way toward the glen’s floor. He paused at the edge of the brook and then beckoned for Ember to join him. It only took a few steps for her to understand why he’d taken so much time in the descent. Though the drop wasn’t steep, the stones beneath her feet were slick, waiting for an opportunity to catch her off guard and turn her ankle.
When she reached Barrow’s side at the bottom of the falls, she asked, “Why have you brought me here?”
“You were distracted this morning, and angry,” he told her. “That’s not an ideal disposition to bring into your first bout of training.”
Ember looked away; even the mention of her irritability made it roll beneath her skin.
“In the Guard you’ll see things more terrible than any man or woman should witness,” Barrow said. “It can lead to distraction . . . and despair.”
He was speaking softly and with kindness. A child forced to hew off his own fingers. The kelpie’s claws dripping slime as they shredded Barrow’s tabard, seeking flesh. Barrow thought her erratic mood was a result of the fight . . . of fear and uncertainty. She almost laughed. That she’d fought that creature and won was one of the only things sustaining her sense of place. Her heart was the beast she couldn’t tame.
Barrow crouched, laying his palm on the water’s surface. “It helps if you can find a place that brings you peace. Make it your own, share it with no one. Go there when you need solace. If you can’t fight the demons that seek to conquer your spirit, you will not survive among us.”
“Share it with no one?” Ember asked with a sidelong glance.
“Being that I’m your teacher, I’ve made an exception.” Barrow looked up at her. “You’ll need time to become familiar with the valley. I found this place many years ago, shortly after I joined the Guard. This slope, this brook—they’re almost as helpful a friend as Toshach. You’re welcome to come here until you find such a place of your own.”
Ember tilted her head, regarding him curiously. “I had a place like this at home. Somewhere I could hide from the world . . . though it was mostly to hide from my father.”
“I don’t blame you for that.” He smiled. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t reveal it to any others in the Guard.”
She did laugh then. “Of course not. I’m honored that you’ve brought me here.”
Spotting a thick, fallen tree, Ember climbed up on it and let her legs dangle.
“Ember, I want you to know that among the Guard you have friends,” Barrow said, his eyes back on the water. “Our lives are hard and we may seem equally hard as people. But we live and die for one another. We are more closely bonded than any others . . . at least that’s what I’ve found.”
Ember sat quietly. When Barrow spoke of the Guard, it was with quiet intensity. A question stirred within her, but it was one she was afraid to ask.