Sterling Forge's Arc

Chapter 29 of 31

Sterling woke to a hand on his shoulder. The witch stood over him. The fire was out. Gray light came through the small round window. "Up," she said. "Both of you." Linny sat up on the bed. Her color was good. She swung her legs down and reached for her coat like she had not almost died. She looked at the witch and did not seem surprised to see her. "Polona," Linny said. "Get your boots." Sterling stood. His shoulder held. He gathered his hammer, his knife, the good blade. His pack was already by the door. He did not remember setting it there. The witch opened the door. He had expected the frostwood and the cold pocket of grass. He got a stone path. Pine and snow. A long slope falling away below them. He knew the shape of it. The ridge road home. "That's not where we came in," he said. "No." He stepped out. The village lay down the slope, small and gray in the morning. Two days walk, maybe less. He turned back. The cottage sat crooked against the hill, painted shutters and hanging bundles, runes cut into the beams. It had not been here a minute ago and would not be here in an hour. He understood that without being told. Linny stepped past him onto the path. She did not argue. She had already accepted the trade Sterling could not see. "Why the road home," he said. "Why not drop us where you found us." Polona looked at Linny. Her face did not move much. "Call it a favor. For a friend." "I'm not your friend." "Not you." She kept looking at Linny. "She reminds me of someone. Myself. A long time ago. Chasing a thing my hand kept closing on air." Linny met her look and held it. Something passed between them Sterling did not catch. "The debt still stands," Polona said to him. "The road is not the debt. The road is because I wanted to." "When do you come for it." "When I come." She stepped back inside and shut the door. The latch clicked. Sterling put his hand on the wood. It felt like wood. He took his hand away and it felt like nothing. The cottage was already less there than it had been. He turned to Linny. She was looking down the slope at the village. "Home," he said. "For now." She started walking. He followed. The blade at his hip. The debt on his back. The ridge road unspooling toward the roofs he knew, and the door in the hill somewhere behind them, unopened, waiting.