The Exiles

14. Commander's light

"Vanylla, get on the cart beside Granny and Nessa. Look after her." Mama rushed to tuck Nessie with her fire shawl, to keep her warm. Up ahead, Ursa and Granny busily fastened the last woven harness on the last of the four midnight-dark horses they'd called forth.

"And where do I sit, Mama?" Mawsie peered at her as she rushed about packing their gear onto the small two-wheeled cart they turned the cot into.

"You ride with me," Mama said, tucking the parcels of food by Nessa's feet when the hoof noise outside the crumbling wall made her freeze.

"Riders!" Granny whispered, quickly pushing Ursa behind herself to protect the child.

Mama grabbed Mawsie and tucked him in next to Vanylla in the cart. She threw a weave upon them—a black blanket hastily made that it was neither warm nor comfortable, but it would have to do for now. "Stay hidden. And not a noise," she said in a hush.

Rita Silvertongue worked quickly as the hoofed footfalls grew louder over the cobalt-stone bridge. A bridge that passed over the now-swampy moat.

"You're the next commander, Ursa. Consider this your first lesson. I need you to do as I do," she said, her fingers used to housework this past decade, wove quickly, making signs Ursa didn't know.

"Mama?" Ursa blinked in awe as Mama wove intricate moves, moves she'd seen her practicing alone ever since they arrived at the Moor of Castlegrave.

"Ursa! Before they get here. We don't know if they are friends or foes. We have but a minute or two." Mama halted a moment and pulled Ursa's hand out of her cloak. "Now." She began the sequence again, a little slower, so Ursa Silvertongue could do as she did.

The hoof sounds turned to footfalls as the riders dismounted somewhere in the courtyard.

"I hear two." Granny wove a shield and a sword in her hands in earnest.

Mawsie whimpered beneath the blanket that hid them.

"Hush now," they heard Vanylla saying. "Mama will look after us. Hush."

Ursa tried not to get distracted as she followed Mama's hand moves, fingers making gestures she hoped she could copy well enough. Before Mama, the golden threads of her weave had already begun.

"Mama? I can't."

"You can. Focus. Don't be scared. I know you don't want to hurt a soul, Ursa, but you're a commander. It's your light they saw." Mama paused a moment. "I don't blame you for their presence. But in our world, you receive the gift that helps you fulfill your destiny. And yours, my darling girl, is to command the Cerulean Army. Those men heading here could be friendly, but if they are not, they will not leave two weavers with the commander's gift alive, for we command the army, not the king or queens. Our words. And Nessa is a seer. They will not leave her behind. She has the rarest, most sought-after gift in our world."

Rita stepped closer to her daughter, standing as tall and as proud as she could. "You were right. We should have left days ago, but in my moment of weakness, I tried to get my family back together, because..." her voice dropped a bit from the tears pooling in her eyes. "I once thought our family would perish, but you held on, in a strange land, you and Amer, and Attin, you held on. Then came Vanylla, Nessa, and Mawsie. We became a family again. A family I'm proud of."

Rita caressed Ursa's cheek, as a mother and not as her mentor. "Now, Commander Ursa, help me save our family so that one day, you may serve your king as I did."

Ursa nodded, though fear gripped her heart.

"Try again." Mama began her weave, a little faster now, and Ursa did her best to keep pace, weaving what? She knew not. Not until it was done—just as the men happened upon the chamber they'd sought refuge in.