The rest of the winter had been cold and harsh. There were many days in which those who quartered themselves within Remalda were trapped, their entrances snowed over. Nertín had gone away for some time along with Asha, Varkner, and others who would be moving further east eventually. Women. Mothers. The rest of those who had come from across the border. Remalda was not big enough to house them all much longer.
Feren did not much like the idea of staying inside. Unlike Amelia, he had no studies or notes or scripture. He did not care for reading through her lessons, except to watch her hands as they scribbled across paper or attempted to summon a mere wisp from scarred fingertips. She'd been taking an even deeper dive into those books labeled Anathomia. A new sketch would make its way into her journals every day; drawings of body parts and their inner workings, sketches of leaves and medicinal herbs. When he had asked what she was doing, she said she was transcribing the books; the entire things, front to back, she was tracing and drawing and writing into new leather-bound stacks of parchment. To help her learn, she'd said. And to be sure more copies of the research and education existed. None of that was very interesting to Feren.
The voerr he'd seen seemed perfectly content with remaining indoors during the storms; they had stores of food in plenty, and work to complete around a flame. At any opportunity, he would leave to just the outskirts; expand his wings in the form of spirits and breathe what cold, fresh air he could. Staying in one place had been so unlike him in the preceding years. No single resting spot had held him for more than a few nights. The same thoughts and agitations would run through his mind; that he had to be acting — doing more outside of the stone that he'd had time to recover in. If Andrew's men were mounting an assault... he needed... he had to be... to do....
He was, with Amelia, the same as ever. Even trapped in closed quarters together, he noticed as she would draw into herself; move away from any outside contact and invest in her work. He knew she had the urge to catch up to any deficits experienced while away in Firica; familiarize herself with what she'd been missing; but her studies seemed also to be an excuse to sink into herself. To stay away from her brother; from Feren. Her smiles were sad; her eyes tired; her heart always, even against her best wishes, scared every time she was approached by a form larger than herself. It seized Feren's composition. So to ameliorate her discomfort, and to allow her to find her peace, Feren stayed out of the room as much as possible. His efforts at conversations served much better with Teeknan and Abett anyway. They, at least, spoke to him.
He had made a deal with Abett, who'd only become more stern as his stresses amounted. For Feren's food, bed, and provision, he was only required to keep his reserves strong. To instruct others on how to do the same. Abett recognized that they needed a strong militant force. The men who were trained to seek and fight were scattered throughout Constentine attempting to maintain the wards, fearing the return of shadows, not so much the Firicans. Wards wouldn't stop humans from walking through. Only dark magic.
It was clear that Abett wanted him to fight. Use whatever skills that had been hinted to Abett of all that Feren had done in Firica. And he wanted Feren to continue training the other men on how to properly use their weapons, should their spirits fail them in combat. He wanted Feren's loyalties officially sworn to Constentine.
As if being tied to the Kiari wasn't enough to prove where his priorities lie. Maybe others were beginning to doubt his roots there just as much as he was.
But training. Fighting. Those were things Feren could do.
So he would leave in the twilight after dinner with Teeknan, Varkner, and other members of their cohort. They practiced stealth and tracking; Feren demonstrated his use of the spirits to seek out shelter and hidden trophies in the woods. They helped him expand his use of controlling multiple summons at one time. But when it came down to it, the only lessons that really mattered, that the voerr really needed, surrounded battle and weaponry. He did what he could to teach what he himself had self-taught: how to kill, and avoid being killed, whether it took a sword or a spirit.
