Sides of War

Chapter Nineteen: Catalyst

Tholan was a catalyst, somehow rocking the ocean of Jorlin's memories and emotions, all of them bubbling to the surface. She awoke three times that night, chest heaving and hands trembling. The third was just before dawn, the lower sky streaked with cold pink, and this time Draven was sitting next to her, his one good eye staring forward blankly.

"Why are you awake?" she asked.

He turned to look down at her harshly. "You woke me up with your ridiculous antics."

Warmth spread over her cold cheeks, and she hoped that she hadn't done anything embarrassing. "What do you mean by antics?"

"I mean you muttering throughout the whole night, waking up yelling."

She had revealed weakness to him, something that she had struggled relentlessly not to do. "What was I saying?"
"You kept saying demonic incantations."

"Really?"
He rolled his eye. "No, of course not, idiot. I didn't pay attention."

Jorlin clenched her teeth to keep from cursing at him. She couldn't wait to get away from him, so she stood up and packed her things, getting ready to march for the day.

"Where are you going?"

"Away from you," she muttered. "Don't worry; I'll be ready to leave again tomorrow."

It didn't take long for Jorlin to retrace her steps back to where Tholan was, who was sleeping soundly. Hardly surprised, she lay down on the ground after clearing a space in the snow and tried to go back to sleep. She soon discovered that it was impossible, and she simply stared at the sky and watched the sun slowly rise.

When the rest of the army began to wake up, Jorlin nudged Tholan awake, the archer yelling, "I swear I'm not! You have to..." His voice faded as he sat up. "Sorry."

Jorlin pretended not to have heard him cry out. "Time to leave."

She stood up, holding her helm in the crook of her elbow, and waited for Tholan to pack up and get ready for departure. When they began marching, she noted that he had an obvious limp in his injured leg, but she said nothing.

"You still haven't told me what happened to you after I left," she stated after they had been marching for a while.

"There isn't much to tell," he replied. "You can probably guess what happened."

Jorlin tore her eyes off of him and stared at the soldiers in front of her rather than watch her friend limp. "What did Slater do once you were in his custody?" It was a question she was unwilling to ask, yet she felt the need to have more justification for her hatred towards him.

Tholan shook his head, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him look at the ground.

"What did he do?" she asked, her voice tinged with anger and fear.

"It doesn't matter."

"No, tell me," she urged, walking closer to him.

He sighed. "He just gave me a hard time, that's all."

Now she was getting annoyed. "Come on, Tholan." He always tended to hide things, but she never knew it was this bad.

He shrugged, and muttered, "He just hit me a few times."

Rage slowly spread through her veins, and she had half a mind to march to Slater's tent herself. Jorlin clenched her fists, struggling to keep marching steadily. The ache in her knees and feet temporarily fleeted as the anger brought with it a surge of adrenaline. Managing to keep her voice under control, she stated, "He hit you in your leg, didn't he?"

He nodded.

She opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She wasn't surprised when she felt a murderous urge yet again. Taking his life would feel so good; she was certain of it. Finally, she said, "If it makes anything better, I punched him in the face like I told you I would before I left."

A small smile lit up his face. As long as he kept smiling, she hoped he would be okay.

"I'm going to kill Slater," she murmured to him. "I'm going to kill him."

Tholan glanced at her, but his face was unreadable.

"I'm going to kill him for you, and for Asher, and for me. I promise."

He looked away. Why didn't he care? He should have said something, or laughed, or done anything. He wasn't supposed to be this different.

They were both quiet until the army stopped at noon, and for a few hours after that. It was still nice to merely be in his company, even if they barely said anything to each other.

Later in the evening, Jorlin forgot how achy her legs were when she saw Tholan stumble, and she lunged forward to steady him.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"Aye," he muttered. She knew it was a lie. He kept walking, but his limp was worse.

"Here," she said, taking his arm closest to her and wrapping it around her shoulders. "Lean on me."

Jorlin felt him tense. "But-," he began.

"Shut up."

He gave up trying to fight her, and instead he let her carry some of his weight. Her already hurting knees and feet throbbed more with the increased load, but she didn't care. When they stopped for the night and the soldiers began setting up camp and lighting fires, Jorlin slumped onto the ground after Tholan. Her legs pounded, and her feet were cold and

hot at the same time. She didn't care that she was lying on the snow; all she wanted to do was sleep. Her whole body ached.

"I'm sorry," Tholan said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

She tried not to wince. "Don't worry about it." As she forced herself to stand up, she bit her tongue. "I have to be going now."

He nodded.

Jorlin reached into her pack and pulled out the carving he had given her, and held it out to him in her palm. "This belongs to you."

It looked like he was about to say something, but instead he reached out and took it from her. He seemed hurt, but he said nothing.

Jorlin turned to leave and said, "Farewell."

"Farewell," he returned, even though her back was already to him.