by K.N. Lee
But I'd promised I wouldn't return, and what happened? The very next day I was marching back in here, caught up in a king's perilous quest.
"A witch," he said gruffly. "Where's the iron and salt when you need it?"
"Does that actually work?"
"The priests in the city say it does."
Curious. "The ones who preach the Way of the Light, do you mean?"
He glanced around him, an unconscious movement that told a great deal. "I'd be careful what you say about the Way of the Light in front of the prince's men. The last few years... Caskill's an ant-heap just waiting to be kicked, and some of the men riding with us serve the Light."
Not Hussar, I was guessing. "The prince didn't seem like a convert."
"He's not." Casimir grimaced. "His younger brother, Rygil, is. And there's a growing faction at court that thinks I ought to be burned at the stake. Witches too, and monsters. Even this whole bloody forest ought to be purged, according to them."
I stared at him.
"It's a popular idea. The king likes burning people a little too much," he said grimly, "and if they butter him up enough, then he might send their Fire Priests north."
The bottom of my stomach dropped. I could almost imagine the fires burning my trees, my forest. "Wouldn't it be a shame if the prince didn't capture the firebird, and couldn't heal his father?"
The king would die. Prince Evaron would step onto the throne, and although I didn't trust anyone who wore gold as carelessly as he did, he wasn't unkind. Not like his father.
Maybe he'd stop this madness before it took hold?
"Why are we even hunting this thing?" I whispered. "We could lead the men around for a few weeks, claim we found nothing, and then Evaron gets to be king." The thought intrigued me. "You're his friend. Surely the thought appeals?"
Casimir's head tipped back, baring his throat as he leaned against the tree. He sighed. "It's not quite that simple."
"Oh?"
"Evaron's a good sort," he said firmly. "Spoiled, to be sure. Privileged. His concept of what life is like is nothing like ours. But he listens. And he tries. The only problem is, he's not as popular at court as you would think. Particularly...."
Particularly?
I waited for an answer that wasn't going to come. "I'm not going to rat you out. I'm the one talking treason here."
Casimir's eyes glowed as they met mine. He glanced around once more, and then slid a little closer, his shoulder brushing mine. "The king thinks his eldest son is weak. This is his last chance. Bring his father the firebird's heart, or expect to be disinherited. Rygil's always been a little more like the king than Ev has. Both the king and Rygil would prefer to sidestep the succession. The second Rygil steps foot on the throne, the Way of the Light will be firing up their bonfires. He's a fanatic."
"Weak?" The prince was charming, but I'd seen him with the men. He was firm enough they listened to him, and they liked him for it too. A true leader of men. "He's put Hussar in his place often enough today. I wouldn't call him weak."
Casimir stared up at the moon, the hard line of his cheekbones almost sharp. "I'm the problem," he barely breathed the words.
I rested my chin on my knees, not sure what to say. "What do you mean?"
"The king wants me dead. Evaron wants me alive. He'd have had the throne if he hadn't dared defy his father." His voice dropped. "For me."
The collar gleamed in the moonlight. "Why are you so loyal to him? He put a collar on you."
"It's complicated."
"I'm sure I can understand," I growled.
"Then maybe I don't want to talk about it?" he snapped.
Any sense of camaraderie fled. Guilt flickered through me. "Sorry. I didn't mean to push. You don't owe me your story."
I made to hop off the branch, but a hand suddenly caught mine. He was so much warmer than I was.
The silence stretched out, as our gazes locked.
"Nobody's ever wanted to hear it before," he said, his dark lashes obscuring those brilliant eyes. "I—I know I'm gruff. I'm not used to speaking about myself. About my past."
Averill always said I was too quick to leap to conclusions.
Slowly I turned my hand upward, linking our fingers. "I would hear it. I would listen. If you wanted to tell me about it. You don't have to..."
Casimir stared at our linked hands, and heat flushed through my cheeks. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, but I'd been the one who'd blundered into this conversation.
"And afterward, we can pretend we don't like each other again, if that makes you feel any better?" I suggested quickly.
"Who's pretending?"
Ouch. I withdrew my hand, but he sighed and captured it again, looking down as if the sight of my hand in his was the strangest thing he'd ever seen. My skin was darker than his, but his was so much larger. Stronger. Scars gleamed white on his knuckles.
"I don't dislike you," he said stiffly.
"I bet you woo all the ladies at court with that tongue." I fluttered my eyelashes at him.
He glared.
It felt weird, because we were still holding hands. And suddenly I was far too aware of him, of the strength in his grip, and the sheer muscle beneath his skin. Casimir looked dangerous, from top to toe. His body was a study in hard angles, and the only thing soft about him was that mouth. I had this horrible urge to bring my hands up and cup his jaw, to see if the shadow of dark bristles along his jaw were as soft as they seemed.
What was happening to me?
I cleared my throat. "Tell me about Evaron. And the king. Please."
"King Euric wanted my clan dead," he said hoarsely, his gaze lowering. "All of us. Evaron was but a boy when he rode with the king to burn my people out of the southern forests. It was mayhem." His voice roughened, and I knew he pictured a long-ago moment in time. "They cut my parents down. My aunt. The only one left alive was me, and I was all of ten. I remember trying to get to my hands and knees with broken ribs and a broken wrist, when the king shoved this boy through the circle of guards. The prince. A boy barely a year or two older than I. Euric wanted to blood him. Put a sword in his hand, and told him to kill me. I could smell Evaron's fear and see the horror on his face. And his father was jeering at him, shoving him toward me. Telling him to, 'Be a man.'
"Somehow I found my feet. I was going to kill this prince, to try and take something away from the king, but Evaron spoke before I had a chance. He convinced his father I was worth more alive. The king called him a coward, but Evaron said killing ones enemies was too easy. But put them on a leash and parade them around at court? Such was power."
Casimir closed his eyes, his head bowing. "I was so furious I tried to kill him anyway. The guards kicked me unconscious, and when I woke I had this around my neck" —he brushed his fingers against the collar— "and the prince was kneeling beside me on the cell floor trying to pour water down my throat." He gave a humorless laugh. "I didn't trust him at first, but the alternative was to be burned to death by his father. King Euric showed me the bonfire they'd piled in the courtyard the very next day. If I ever tried to harm Evaron again, he'd put me on it and light it up myself, and he smiled. He wanted me to try."
What a story. I stared at him, aghast. Inheritance laws or not, the idea of healing the king rebelled within me.
But I couldn't help thinking of my father.
If we found the firebird, perhaps I could heal him too.
My father's life for a tyrant king's? Father always said we had a duty to the forest, and to the people in our village.
"Evaron could have handed me over many times," Casimir said. "I don't fit in at court. And my temper... There are enough puny lordlings there with a grievance against me. But he hasn't. And he won't. And now he's paying for his loyalty by being forced to accede to this quest. If he dies here, then I don't think the king will grieve too much."
I stared sightlessly into the trees. I didn't know Euric, but the more I heard of him, the more I wanted to thwart him.
"We'll find the firebird," I said firmly. "And Evaron can use its heart to heal the king if he wills it. And I promise I'll do my best to see the prince get out of this forest alive. If he succeeds, then the king can't disinherit him, can he?"
I'd almost like to see King Euric's face when his son returned triumphant.
Casimir tilted his head toward me. "Thank you."
6
Sometime during the middle of the morning, we reached the boundary of the Heart of the Forest.
Thorns and brambles laced together, cutting off the narrow track we'd been following. The men barely spoke, and even the horse's soft whickers had vanished during the course of the morning, as the light that managed to seep through the vast canopy slowly dwindled.
"Here we are, my prince," I called, gesturing to the thicket in front of us. "This is the edge of the Heart."
"Vashta's tits," Hussar spat, digging his spurs into his horse's sweating flanks and driving it forward. He kicked at a thorn bush, and of course it merely shook.
Idiot.
"Perhaps if you glare at it a little harder it might remove itself?" I suggested.
The glare transformed itself to me, and Hussar swung off his horse inelegantly, leaving the horse to shy away. "Surely there's got to be some way around this."
"Not as far as I've seen." I gestured along the wall of brambles. "Though you're quite welcome to search for it."
Slinging my pack off my back, I sat on a fallen log and crossed my heels, prepared to wait.
Hussar withdrew his sword. "I'll remove it myself. Axes out!"
The huntsmen swung off their horses, breaking out their axes. Soon they were stripping off their heavy coats, as sweat began to gleam. The brambles seemed never-ending. I took a wizened old apple out of my pack and nibbled on it.
"I wonder what made the thorns grow like that," Evaron mused, seating himself beside me.
Apparently princes didn't get their hands dirty.
The wall of thorns was remarkably straight. Someone either planted it, or these were magically grown thorns.
Witch-grown.
The thought shivered through me as I chewed mechanically. "Did Casimir tell you—"
"Yes," Evaron said, cutting me off mid-sentence.
And we were not to speak of it in front of the men. Evaron's pleasant expression never wavered.
"It seems wrong," I whispered. "They should know. They should be able to prepare themselves."
Something had warned us. And we hadn't heeded that warning.
"This is Gravenwold," I stressed. Mad king or not, Fire Priests or not, Gravenwold was the blade at our throats. We would have to survive the woods, to be able to worry about the seismic ripples denying King Euric's decree would cause.
"It's different in the cities," Evaron murmured. He looked at me. "Out here you grow up hearing stories of your Old Ways; to cast salt around the house to ward off evil spirits; to gift the forest with a sacrifice in return for your safety within. In the cities we believe in the Way of the Light. The Light will protect us. And if it doesn't, then it is because we let Darkness into our hearts." He wavered, looking at his huntsmen. "These men were raised in the cities. They believe in the Light. Let us not put shadows in their hearts, not just yet, or we may open the way for Darkness to enter."
Sounded like a heap of frogshit to me.
"All the better to prepare them," I pointed out, casting the apple core into the bushes for the squirrels to consume. "What happens when something leaps out and rips their throats out because they're not ready for it?"
He smiled, and patted my knee. "You yourself have said you've only been this way once, and you came across no monsters then. You remind me of Cas—all grim warnings and dire consequences. We've made it this far, haven't we?"
Unbidden, my gaze slid to the prince's Hound. Casimir's dark hair served as stark counter-point to his red cape, but it was his eyes that arrested me. I shivered. "He sounds like a smart man."
And we are not alike. Not at all. Despite a certain sense of pragmatism.
"Are you trying to cast doubt on my intelligence?" Evaron laughed.
I shrugged. "You're the one who doesn't believe in monsters."
Cas had been tending the horses, but as I watched, his head jerked up, and his attention shifted to the north. In a second, all of his languidness vanished, and I could see the wolf rear its head. Something this way comes...
Vashta's tits. A flash of heat went through me, and I reached for my bow, nocking an arrow to it before Evaron could even draw breath. The world turned silent, as I blocked out everything but the incoming threat, my gaze narrowing to that single passage along the arrow.
Only to find silence.
No, that didn't seem quite right. Seconds ticked out, my lungs protesting the lungful of spent air sitting there arrested. Slowly, I eased it out. A shadow blurred out of the corner of my vision, and I spun, losing sight of it. The reluctant woodcutters were all watching me in curiosity, but nobody else seemed to sense the danger. Only Casimir.
"What were we saying?" Evaron mused. "Something about—"
Eerie laughter rang out, echoing through the trees.
Everyone froze.
Especially Evaron.
"You may wish to rethink your position," I muttered to the prince, turning toward the trees where the laughter had sounded.
There was a faint crashing sound, somewhere far distant. Odd. I couldn't think of anything large enough to make that much noise from a distance.
"What in the darkness was that?" Evaron whispered, drawing his sword.
Last night sprang to mind. The skull. The blood.
I gave a helpless shrug. "I told you—I don't know what lurks in here. I only know that something does."
Or some things.
"If it laughs, then it can bleed," said Hussar, turning and spitting in the direction the laughter had echoed.
Blood slashed his arms from the brambles. I had this horrible receding sensation, my father's voice coming out of nowhere: "Blood brings predators in Gravenwold. Bind your wounds as soon as possible, and burn any bloodied bandages."
"Cover your wounds," I snapped, striding to the center of the clearing. Branches shivered in the distance, as if something shoved its way through them.
"What is it?" one of the men demanded.
"The Darkness is upon us," another whispered.
"It's not the Darkness," I snapped. The last thing we needed were these fools breaking and running. "The Darkness is an intangible thing, no?" At the look in their startled eyes, I pointed to where the canopy was shivering. "Something big is making those branches shake. That means we've got a monster coming. And monsters might have teeth and claws, but they can also bleed. Do we have any other archers?"
One man put up his hand.
"Fine. You're with me. We'll try and slow it down. Aim for the eyes. Some of these beasts have armor plating, or really thick hides."
Or so said the old stories. Doubt cascaded through me. I had no idea what we were facing. Or how to kill it.
And something had clearly driven it toward us. Something with a high-pitched laugh, that moved at super speed.
"Protect the prince," Casimir called, gesturing to a handful of men to keep Evaron out of the way. He looked at Hussar. "How do you want to do this?"
"Burning ashes, how would I know?" Hussar snapped. "She's the resident expert."
And you're the Huntmaster. I seethed.
All of us could feel the urgency, as the ground began to quiver. It was moving fast, whatever it was. I leaned close to Cas, feeling as though something watched us through the trees. "Can you smell it?"
"It stinks like a swamp, but there's no other scent."
"No swamp either," I pointed out.
Leaping up onto a branch, I worked my way higher, trying to get a good vantage point. This thing was big.
"Spread out!" Casimir bellowed. "Make sure you've got room to move, and keep those axes in your hands. If you can hamstring i
t, aim for that."
A pair of daggers flashed in his hands. Insane. I couldn't imagine trying to bring down something this big with only a pair of daggers, but as I watched, he twirled them, crouching low as if to spring. A wolf in man's clothing, with claws of pure steel.
The thorns tore apart as something exploded through them, towering almost ten feet tall.
"What in the darkness is that?" someone yelled, diving out of the way as an enormous set of teeth crashed down where he'd been standing.
Horses screamed, taking off in a flurry. I could see men flying, tossed aside like ragdolls as the huge beast crashed into the clearing. One went beneath its hooves, and I caught a flash of his face, mouth agape in silent agony.
It all happened so fast. My first arrow went wide, glancing off one of the curling horns that swept away from its bear-like face.
My mind was slowly connecting the dots; its enormous horns and the shaggy fur hanging from its hide, dripping with moss; those serrated teeth; and its cloven hooves.
"It's a volgur," I breathed, staring at one of the monsters fresh from my childhood stories. The heat drained from my face. Sweet Vashta!
"A what?" Casimir demanded, darting in with his knives, and vanishing beneath it.
"A volgur!" I yelled, my head whipping around, trying to find some means to escape as the beast turned toward me. I leapt off the branch. "You know! They live in swamps or stagnant water, and they only eat meat. Preferably fresh, and preferably screaming."
"Protect the prince!" Casimir bellowed, rolling out from beneath the volgur, and barely escaping the infuriated stomp of its hoof.
Evaron was immediately surrounded by a half dozen of his guards, his wide blue eyes locking upon us across the clearing. The group was split in two, leaving us with Hussar and two others. It seemed like everybody wanted to be guarding the prince—and not dealing with the volgur.
The monster reared up onto its hind legs, revealing bear-like paws on the front end. I scrambled into the bushes, hemmed in by a row of brambles. Nowhere to turn. Nowhere to run. I faced it helplessly, setting another arrow to my bow.
An enormous set of claws lashed out toward me as my arrow streamed toward it, and at the last second, a heavy shape hit me hard, driving me into the ground.