Ethen Gearhart's Arc

Chapter 5 of 9

The march crossed into open tundra. Rusted war relics jutted from the frozen ground. Decaying clockwork insects lay scattered, their legs locked mid-crawl. Ethen led the column now. His squad followed close, boots crunching the ice. The young officer's words still rang in his ears. Owed men were not loyal men yet. Near the rear of the column walked the guard Ethen had displaced. The commander had reassigned him to the outer wall after he accused Ethen of forging the princess's letter. Now he marched with them, demoted and sour. He fell into step beside two of Ethen's knights. "Scout-leader," he said, loud enough to carry. "Funny title for a man who bought his way in. That letter was never real. You'll see." The knights slowed. Doubt crept back into their faces. Ethen's jaw tightened. If the guard spread that poison, the respect he had bled for would rot like the relics around them. He could not fight a rumor with his gun. He turned to his orange cat, Waffles, who rode on a supply cart with goggles pushed up on his head. Waffles had carried the sealed letter from the start. He knew its truth better than anyone. The cat hopped down. He padded to the guard and dropped something from his jaws into the snow. It was the broken wax seal from the princess's letter, kept all this time. Ethen crouched and lifted it. "You never let the officer test this," Ethen said. "You wanted combat instead, because you were sure I'd fail. I didn't." He held the seal up to the watching knights. The crest pressed into the wax was unmistakable. Royal. The guard's face went pale. "Anyone can fake a stamp," he snapped. But his voice cracked. A low growl answered him. Ethen's steam cheetah stepped forward, brass plates flashing, gears turning along its spine. It stopped nose to nose with the guard. The man stumbled back and tripped over a dead clockwork insect. He landed hard in the frost. The knights laughed. Not at Ethen this time. At the guard sprawled in the snow, still clutching his lie. "Say it again," Ethen said quietly. "In front of all of them." The guard said nothing. He climbed to his feet, brushed off the ice, and dropped to the back of the column alone. No one walked beside him now. The snorting knight clapped Ethen's shoulder. "We follow you," he said. "Rumor and all." The doubt was gone from his eyes. Waffles leapt back onto the cart and settled, tail flicking, work done. Ethen pocketed the seal and faced the open tundra. The grudge was dead. But something moved on the horizon beyond the relics. Dark shapes, many of them, crawling toward the column. The real fight the officer had promised was here. And this time, his men would stand with him.