The Farmer's War (Golden Guard Trilogy Book 3), Page 3

  Daniel said nothing, and in the nearly oppressive silence that followed, Craig realized he’d found the one thing they could both agree upon: It was going to be a very, very long few days.

  4. Daniel

  He was on a mission for the prince. The prince. Of all the things Daniel expected to be doing when he marched off to war, taking on secret missions for one of the princes wasn’t even in his wildest imaginings.

  Then again…

  It was the sort of fantasy he’d shared with Willow, their faces sharing two halves of the same pillow, in the nights leading up to his deployment. Every soldier dreamed of fanfare and glory, she’d assured him. All she wanted was for him to come home alive—a singular request that echoed in his mind every time he drew his sword.

  But Daniel had always strived to do more than simply survive. He had assumed this risk for them both; by taking on a few more, he might be able to secure an even better future than they’d hoped. Surely, in the face of a royal errand’s completion, the prince would offer some special reward for a job well done?

  He shifted in his saddle, stretching out the discomfort in his thighs. It had been a long time since he’d merited a horse of his own, and it made traversing the gnarled , bramble-thick ground of the jungle far more bearable than trudging through on foot. Holding the reins again came naturally to him, even if his body was a bit out of practice. There had always been a horse on the farm for the plow, and certain livelihoods were hard to forget.

  They’d ridden all day, and twilight was descending upon the world, blackening the canopy above. The shadows, their only company throughout the hours, began to creep out from their dens underneath the brush, claiming the world for darkness.

  “We should make camp,” Craig announced suddenly, his voice almost abrasive in the aftermath of such constant quiet. “There’s no point risking our necks by marching through the night.”

  “Heard, lieutenant.”

  Craig’s reigns squeaked under his tightening grip as he led them toward a sapling of one of the great Northern trees. Daniel knew he’d earned Craig’s ire yet again—and again for no good reason—so he decided to try for some friendly conversation. He could only benefit from the lieutenant’s fondness.

  “Still not used to them.”

  A pause. And then—

  “Used to what?”

  “The trees.” Daniel tilted his head toward the shaded sentries that had hovered above them all day. “Even the little ones are taller than the pines in the Southern forests.”

  “You’ll grow tired of them soon enough.” The response sounded a bit clipped, but not unkind, which seemed an improvement over their previous exchanges. Daniel took it as a win, and watched as the other man dismounted, looping his horse’s reigns haphazardly over a branch. Daniel followed suit, trusting the mounts not to wander away.

  “I’m not sure it will,” Daniel hummed. “It hasn’t happened yet…” He began unstrapping his bedroll from the back of his saddle. Even faced away, Daniel could practically hear the look of superiority on Craig’s face.

  “You’re still green.”

  “I’m not that green,” Daniel insisted defensively. Despite himself, he finished with a hastily murmured, “Sir.”

  “And there it is,” Craig huffed, voice thick with smug teasing. “Couldn’t resist your precious protocols after all, could you?” His tone softened a bit but remained no less annoyed. “I told you, none of that.”

  Craig tossed his own bedroll onto the leafy ground. The forest floor underneath the sapling was peaty. They’d wake up cold and damp, but better rested than on dryer locations with hard roots. There was no such thing as comfort in the jungle; it was just a matter of determining what discomfort was tolerable.

  This time, the silence between the two men was far from companionable, filled with a tension Daniel was determined to break.

  “I fear we may have gotten off on the wrong footing.” He sat heavily on his makeshift bed, savoring what would likely be the only dry warmth he’d get all night. “I want you to know that I am taking this mission very seriously, and deeply respect your caliber as a soldier.”

  “Do you ever say anything authentic?”

  The words twisted in Daniel’s gut, raising his hackles instantly. It was as if the lieutenant was going out of his way to rankle on Daniel’s last nerve.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Wrong footing… mission… lieutenant… it’s as if all you know how to say is what you think people want to hear.” Craig shifted lazily, resting his chin in his palm. Unimpressed.

  “I speak how I want to speak.” It was clear his efforts to endear himself to the other man were quickly turning south, evidenced by Craig’s eye-rolling and audible scoffing.

  “Right, and I’m the long-lost third prince Solaris.”

  “Far be it from me to comment on your lineage.”

  “That was remarkably close to a joke.” Craig laid back onto his bedroll. “You’ll ruin your image if you keep that up.”

  “It’s not an image!” Daniel didn’t know how else to convey the fact. He spoke how he wanted to speak and did what he wanted to do. Why was the man so determined to undermine him? What had he done to merit such blatant attacks on his character? The next words seemed to crawl up his throat unannounced. “My parents raised me right.”

  “And that was remarkably close to being rude. The ‘good little soldier boy’ cracks by the minute.” Daniel didn’t have to see Craig’s face to know he was grinning with every word.

  “We have a lot of ground to cover.” Daniel peeled back the flap of his bedroll, wiggling into the inviting space within. The ground was soft and the wool still dry and warm. His muscles relaxed more than they had in weeks. “We should get some rest.”

  “And now he’s giving me orders.” Craig yawned loudly to punctuate the statement. “I don’t remember getting word of your promotion.”

  Daniel pursed his lips. He wouldn’t be egged into another round of verbal sparring. So he kept jaw clenched, lips pressed shut, until sleep settled over him, heavier than the blanket and heavier still than the fear of death in the night. The grim and determined line of his mouth persisted into the dawn.

  5. Craig

  There was sport in riling up his tightly-wound comrade. If the man was going to be a threat to Craig’s position with Raylnn and poor company, the least Craig deserved was entertainment. And Daniel didn’t disappoint.

  Craig’s joints popped and cracked in protest to the sleeping arrangements, a little chorus that sung for the dawn every day. He couldn’t recall what it was like to sleep in a bed any longer. But all the pain and discomfort would be worth it in the end.

  Deliver the letter. Get Jax’s support. Continue to impress Raylynn. Don’t disappoint Erion in any way. If he was lucky, he’d do something to impress Baldair himself.

  The golden bracer was as good as his.

  Daniel said nothing as they saddled up and set back on their course. Craig couldn’t be sure if it was the result of his companion’s obsession with hierarchy—Mother forbid he speak before being addressed by a superior—or if he was merely being stubborn, but Daniel’s silence spread over the morning like dew. So Craig stayed equally as silent. If Daniel wanted to have conversation, he could be the first to broker one.

  Even pettiness could be amusing, Craig decided. Considering there were so few genuine amusements at war, he reveled in his own. It was even better when it came with the satisfaction of unraveling an adversary.

  The silence persisted until midday. By the time Daniel spoke, the stillness was all but ringing in Craig’s ears.

  “This looks strange…” he murmured, so softly that Craig was almost uncertain if he’d said anything at all.

  “What does?” He decided to bite, perhaps a bit eager for a change in sound beyond the crunch of their horses’ hooves against the
forest floor.

  “This tract of land…” Daniel swiveled in his saddle. His eyes darted up to the treetops above, scanning the flashes of light that poked through the canopy. “I don’t remember it from the course here.”

  “It all looks the same.” Craig shrugged, but obliged the other man by pulling out his compass. He’d at least make a show of needing to look at the navigation tool, even if his mind had already settled on the best heading. “One tree is almost impossible to tell from another.”

  “No, this is more than that.”

  “Compass says we’re still on the right heading.” Craig tapped the glass to ensure the needle wasn’t stuck. It wasn’t. “Due east. Soon enough we’ll come across the charred remains of Torr, and then—”

  “Lieutenant, with all due respect,” Daniel interrupted, and Craig couldn’t help but hear the irony in his tone. “I don’t think we need to head completely east.”

  “Pardon?” Craig put away the compass, surprise slowing his motions. He very much did not take to the feeling of Daniel, of all people, correcting him.

  “We proceeded slightly south from Torr. I’d noticed from the sunrise through the canopy.” Daniel stretched his legs in his saddle, avoiding eye contact. Craig blinked, looking from Daniel to the treetops and back.

  “You couldn’t possibly have seen the sunrise. You can’t see anything through the canopy.” He motioned upward for effect. Even now, the dense foliage could fool a man into thinking it was nearly night.

  Daniel refused to look at him, back ramrod straight and jaw set. “You can see where first light breaks,” he insisted.

  With a heavy sigh, Craig ran a hand through his hair. This man would be the type to rise with the dawn, no doubt running every drill he could conceive. He likely had a fire started before a Firebearer could blink, food already cooked for his whole camp.

  Craig knew full well he could simply order them forward on the course he knew to be correct; the Easterner wouldn’t say anything if it was an order. But he didn’t want to order the man into the right course. He wanted Daniel to admit to the error of his ways. Craig wanted to make sure that, by the time they were in the company of Raylynn again, the man knew his place.

  He paused, glancing at Daniel out of the corner of his eye.

  Was the bastard really trying to prove him wrong?

  Craig pulled on his reigns, punctuating the thought with a small grunt of frustration. Maybe this do-gooder was more manipulative than Craig had previously given him credit for.

  He felt Daniel watching him as he rummaged through his saddlebags. There was a map Raylynn had quickly sketched for him folded up somewhere. It probably would have been wise to put it with the letter, strapped tightly to his hip for safe-keeping, but Craig hadn’t foreseen himself needing it. The directions had been undeniably clear: Go east.

  Map in hand, he scooped up the compass and squeezed his thighs against the sides of the saddle, using his knees to guide his horse over to Daniel. Once he was within range, he thrust map and compass directly into Daniel’s chest.

  “Right, then. If you’re so apt with navigation, you can lead us.”

  “Sir?” The man didn’t even move to take the two articles as he looked on in confusion.

  “You seem to know where we should go…” Craig extended his arm just a little more, emphasizing that he wasn’t about to let Daniel off the hook. “So why don’t you lead?”

  The other man’s hazel eyes alternated between examining Craig’s face and looking hesitantly at the offered map and compass. Finally, he reached out and snatched the items away with purpose.

  “If you insist, sir.”

  “Oh, I do.” Craig had never been more satisfied. At worst, Daniel would tack on an extra day with his insistence to go a little further north before cutting east. It was worth it to teach the man a lesson. “Take point, soldier.”

  Daniel held out the map in front of him with a slight squint. After some finger-pointing and squinting, he clicked his tongue, spurring his horse to action with a shift of his legs. Craig watched closely as Daniel took a slight lead ahead of him. For a foot-soldier he was fairly confident on a horse, Craig noted with interest—and vastly different from the fidgeting, constantly shifting rider he’d witnessed the day prior. Was Daniel hiding things from him?

  “You sure you know where we’re going?” Craig gave him one last chance as he glanced up at the canopy above, wondering how anyone could really see enough sunlight to know what direction they were facing. Daniel seemed determined though, voice insistent and confident.

  “Of course I do. I have an excellent sense of direction.”

  6. Daniel

  Daniel did not have an excellent sense of direction.

  There were a good handful of feathers he could put in his cap, certainly. He could clear an entire field of barley in an afternoon. In the span of a few chirps, he could rough out the sketch of a bird he’d never seen before, capturing its likeness before it could fly off again. And above all else, he could use a sword with surprising precision and deadly efficiency. But directional prowess had never been one of his strong suits.

  He still couldn’t fathom what exactly had driven him to insist otherwise. He was lying, full stop, and lying to a direct superior at that. It was awful on every conceivable level and was made worse with each moment he refused to come clean.

  Daniel shook his head, glancing back down at the map.

  In truth, he had been paying close attention to the direction they’d been marching. Craig was right—it wasn’t a hard course to chart. There was a chance Daniel was actually correct about them being slightly further south from the Imperial stronghold at the Northern capital. If so, he’d save face and a day of travel. He just had to have faith in his own abilities.

  The bark of every surrounding tree seemed sculpted into judgmental faces, watching and waiting for the moment Daniel would confess the truth. Well, they could just keep on watching. He could fell a man in battle without blinking; he was hardly going to succumb to a couple of trees.

  “Who made this map?” Daniel asked for some unfathomable reason. If he’d learned anything by now, it was not to expect any sort of conversation with his mission’s comrade. Outside of clearing the air with a confession, which he had little desire to do, Daniel saw no reason to open his mouth at all.

  As if in silent agreement, Craig spared Daniel not even a glance as he answered.

  “Raylynn.”

  Against his better judgment, Daniel pressed. “I didn’t realize the Major was such an accomplished cartographer.” This elicited a sharp click of the tongue from the lieutenant.

  “She’s not and you know it.”

  Daniel didn’t think it possible that someone could convey such utter disgust with a shake of his head, but Craig managed to demonstrate the ability with alarming clarity. “She’s not even here and you’re trying to kiss her boots. Just what are you after?”

  Rolling up the map, Daniel shoved it ungratefully into his saddlebag. “Nothing. I’m after nothing. It’s merely better than I could do, is all,” he lied, the weight of Craig’s superiority over him making each word feel thick and bitter on his tongue. Every rustle of the trees seemed to carry his father’s voice, his teachings: respect, obedience, enthusiasm to serve his betters. Worse, if he was caught in a lie, that would spell the end for him and Willow’s dreams.

  Daniel shifted in his saddle for the umpteenth time and shuffled his thoughts like playing cards. If he re-dealt them enough times, maybe he’d figure out a way to reorganize his actions, lay out his hand in such a way that it wasn’t so much of a blatant lie. Half-truths, he decided. Fibs instead of falsehoods.

  “What do you want, soldier?”

  The statement jarred Daniel from his mental recalibration. “Pardon?”

  “What are you doing here?” Craig said with a grunt as he hacked away a
t some sapling branches set on impeding their way. “Why are you at this war front? I know it’s not to lick boots and die. What has you so determined to appease the powers that be? Advancement of some particular kind?”

  Daniel shook his head, surprised at the sudden line of questioning. “I don’t have any interest in advancement.” The mere thought set the muscles in his lower back to contracting. Advancement would mean more responsibility and more time at war. More time at war was less time spent with Willow, and a longer period waiting for his life to actually begin. “I want to serve the Empire Solaris and then—” Daniel sighed softly. “And then earn my payment for it so I can give my bride-to-be the life and home she both desires and deserves.”

  He didn’t know what reaction he expected from baring his dreams, but it certainly wasn’t laughter.

  “Are you truly so incapable of talking openly?” Craig wheezed. “Just looking to collect some gold for your future bride? A humble Eastern farmer’s dream, that.”

  “Well, I am a humble Eastern farmer.” Craig’s words were like tiny pin pricks across his skin. Respect was given blindly to those with titles, he mused sourly—given with the faith that those people may have gained their titles through honorable means, and would use the loyalty of their followers for good. All Craig had done was insult him at every turn. “And you would be best not to—”

  Craig held up a hand, stopping Daniel short. It may as well have been a physical slap to the face.

  “I will not be—”

  “Shh,” Craig hissed.

  Daniel obliged with more reluctance than he would have wanted to admit, suddenly aware of the look on Craig’s face.

  “Do you hear that?” The lieutenant swiveled in his saddle, inspecting their surroundings.

  Daniel gave everything a good look, but there wasn’t much to behold. Greenery as far as the eye could see. The North had at least triple the trees as it did people.