Page 13 of The Song of Sunrise
To my surprise, Castor and Leaf lead the horses straight in. “Shouldn’t we knock first or something?”
“Nah. This is the WatchTower for the Dead Twins. So, practically home. WatchGuards are stationed here regularly to keep the surrounding towns safe. Best let the horses rest for a moment before passing the next city.” Leaf leads Tiny into a stall. “They both get a little nervous whenever we pass through here.”
“Safe to say I feel the same way. This place is creepy.” I cross my arms, hugging myself and instinctively grabbing my necklace.
Castor hands me the reins to Lux and takes off up the tower, muttering abouttoo quiet.Leaf and I lead the horses into the stables.
We begin filling buckets of water from a rusty pipe in the corner for the trough. Lux and Tiny, though still fidgety, are visibly relieved at the sight of fresh water.
Leaf starts brushing Tiny affectionately. “Once we get past this sun-burned place, we can splurge on a Tavern stay. I’m going to need a good bath soon. There is an Inn that’s really—”
Castor jumps down from the last five steps of the tower’s winding staircase. “Where are the Watchers? There is supposed to be a full patrol here!”
The hair on the back of my neck rises. I have been too caught up in gawking at this place that I didn’t reallyseeit. The stables are abandoned. No other animals, no stablehands. Above us, dust and cobwebs collect on the rafters, like no one has been here for weeks.
“Something is off about this place.” Leaf’s voice falls flat into the silence that envelops the room.
Large piles of hay are stacked at random against the walls. Shuffling in a slow circle, I scan the room until I’m staring at a large pile of hay right behind me.
And it is staring back.
Just as I scream, dozens of people jump out of the haystacks. Their dirty faces are gaunt, clothing ragged, and eyes full of hunger.
“Nomads!” Castor yells and pulls out his dual blades from behind his back.
In an instant, the room is circled with white fog and flashes of light. The Watchers channel the Source like it’s a second language.
Fear freezes my body in place, but my mind races, trying to muster up a plan or convince myself with the courage to act, to help.
Anything.
My dagger!
I hastily reach down into my boot and pull out the dagger Bane gifted to me. A bald, gangly nomad runs right at me, eyes blown feverishly. The blade trembles in my hand.
The nomad’s eyes flick down to the dagger. Slight surprise flashes underneath layers of dirt and grime, but he does not slow down.
“Please. We are so hungry. Help us!” the nomad begs.
“Watchers!” another cries.
“They are here to help us!” a third destitute-looking nomad chimes in, shoulder hanging oddly at his side.
A woman with stern eyes and sunken cheeks steps forward. “We will take anything you offer. Please. Rations stopped coming months ago, and winter is coming.” She pats a bundle at her waist.
No. Not a bundle.
A child.
“Leaf! Castor! Stop!” I yell. The flashes of light stop, and Castor pulls in the misty white fog of his magic back into himself.
The nomads close in, reaching for me, desperation and starvation fevering their eyes. Why live here and not out in one of the smaller villages? Surely other places would take them in. Then I recall my own struggles, hopping from town to town, always working or hunting for my next meal. Maybe this is all they know. I, least of all, shouldn’t be so quick to judge.
I put my hands up in front of me as more nomads begin to circle tighter. I would be lying if I said they didn’t frighten me. Castor and Leaf join by my side.
“Grab the dried meat,” I whisper to Leaf.
“But—” he starts to object.
