by C. Greenwood
In the weak light filtering through that window to the outside, I surveyed my surroundings. This cozy space might work very well for my treasure room, at least for the time being. Poking around the rough walls, I discovered a niche in the rock just large enough to fit my hand into. It was the perfect hiding place.
I took the tiny crystals from my boot, knotted them up in a kerchief weighted with a big stone to make them easier to find again, and shoved the precious bundle as deep into the niche as I could. Then I collected handfuls of loose pebbles and moss from the floor and stuffed these into the mouth of the niche. When I was done, no one would ever know I had concealed anything there.
I stood back, satisfied with my work. The stolen crystals were small, but they were a start toward independence from the guild and its king. If things ever went wrong back in Selbius, and somehow I was sure they would, Ferran and I would have this to fall back on.
By now it was late in the day, so I passed the night in the cave. As I curled up among the leaves in the outer cavern, the rumbling of my empty stomach reminded me of that other time I had spent similar nights here. How different my situation now was to then. This time I had come to the forest voluntarily. My brother was safe, I had a plan to set us up for the future, and I was finally in control.
I didn’t feel lonely as I drifted off to sleep. My magic bow lay near at hand, giving me a feeling of security.
* * *
In the morning, I caught a fish from the pool, using the skill I had practiced when I was here before. Prepared this time, I was able to make a fire and cook my meal before eating.
Afterward, I kicked out the blaze, took a final drink of the cool water from the pool, and set off. I needed to get back to my thief companions in the city and invent some excuse for where I had been these past couple of days. I also needed to make sure my brother was still safe from the man with the scarred chin.
My journey back to Selbius should be an easy one. It was a warm day, and through the treetops overhead I could see patches of clear blue sky. Playful squirrels chased one another across my path as I struck out in the direction that should take me toward the road to the city. I was fast learning my way around this part of the forest, but the sameness of the scenery could still be confusing sometimes.
Around midday I stopped to check my direction, afraid I was veering from my route. The trees in this part of the wood looked unfamiliar, and there were no streams, boulders, or other obvious markers to tell if I had been this way before.
I was so busy surveying my surroundings I didn’t immediately notice the gradual warmth that began spreading across my back. There was no telling how long the bow had been trying to warn me. But I felt it now, the flare of heat that meant danger was nearby.
Alert, I reached for the knife at my belt as I whirled around.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Before I had time to finish turning, a heavy weight slammed into me. Knocked off my balance, I stumbled backward and fell to the ground.
I looked up into the vicious face of the wild man, who stood over me, the jagged piece of metal I remembered from before gripped in his hand like a dagger. His deranged expression left no doubt of what he intended. This time he would finish me for good. Brig’s words rang in my mind. A cannibal, Mad Mael had been called. A monster who enjoyed the kill.
I had only a second to roll aside as his blade descended. His blow was so powerful the sharp tip of the weapon punched a hole in the earth where I had been.
Fear-driven adrenaline racing through me, I scrambled to my feet. In a single motion, I launched headlong at my enemy, shoving him backward. Startled by the unexpected counterattack, it was the big man’s turn to fall.
I didn’t give him time to recover but immediately climbed on top of him, knocking his arm aside as he tried to bring up his blade. I knew what his next move would be, so I kept well away from his teeth.
He had fallen across a long, flat rock. Without stopping to think about it, I took his head between my hands. A frenzied voice shouting at the back of my mind told me what to do.
Fight! Defend! Destroy!
I beat my enemy’s skull viciously against the stone. It happened so fast he had no chance to struggle. Even after I heard the first sharp crack of his skull against the rock and felt him cease to move, I didn’t stop. Not until I was sure he was really dead.
Eventually I sat back, exhausted from my efforts. I climbed off my lifeless enemy and wiped his blood from my hands. Some had spattered onto my cheek as well.
Now that my initial fear and excitement had passed, I became aware of my surroundings again. The birds overheard had fallen still. As my pounding heart slowed and its beat stopped throbbing in my ears, everything else suddenly seemed deafeningly quiet. The trees looked down on me in accusing silence. The magic bow that had been shouting death in the back of my mind cooled, and its promptings subsided.
I walked a little distance away to sit down with my back against a tree. I had never killed a man before. Not unless I counted the time I had shot an arrow through my red-bearded pursuer atop the city wall. But that had been from a distance and I hadn’t had time to think about it.
This was different. This was up close and intentional. I should feel guilt, regret, something. But I didn’t. There was only emptiness inside me. I looked at my hands, still sticky with the blood I hadn’t been able to wipe away, and realized my father’s ring was stained red.
Carefully I removed the ring and polished it clean on my tunic. I let the blood on the rest of me stay.
* * *
The remainder of my trek through the forest was uneventful. I found the right path back to the main road and left the shade of Dimmingwood behind.
I didn’t dwell on what happened. My enemy had been determined to destroy me, and I had defended myself. Still, I vaguely recognized that I was changed. The congrave’s son who had escaped the Eyeless Tower would never have been capable of taking a life. Perhaps it was the recent confusion of my memories that was to blame. It was difficult to remain the same person I had been when I could scarcely remember who that person was. I smothered the unease that always came when I contemplated my memory loss and pushed on to the city.
By the time I made my return to Selbius, I had been separated from Kinsley and Thorben for several days. I lost no time in finding them both and inventing a story about how I had accidentally become separated from them and wandered the forest in confusion for days before being attacked by a madman. That part was true at least and easily proven by the bloodstains on my clothing. Amid a crowd of guild members at The Ravenous Wolf, I spun an exciting tale of how I had fought for my life and killed my enemy. Impressed at my having killed a man with my bare hands, no one questioned what else I might have been doing while alone in Dimmingwood.
Satisfied I had avoided suspicion, I went upstairs to the lodgings I shared with Ferran and Ada. It was late evening, and I found both in our room. Ferran greeted me with delight, but Ada’s expression was less pleased. Despite a little paleness, she looked as if she had recovered from the sickness my poisoning had caused. Relieved, I inwardly vowed never to risk anything so stupid again.
“Why were you gone so long?” Ferran asked. “And why are your clothes stained?”
I repeated the same story I had told the men downstairs, omitting the details of how I killed my attacker. My cracking someone’s head open wasn’t an image I wanted my little brother to imagine.
Ada, listening to my story in the background, didn’t question any part of it. That was both a welcome change and a concern. Was it my imagination, or did she watch me strangely, as if suspecting I was somehow at the bottom of her illness? I told myself it was only a guilty conscience that made me think so.
Before we all went to bed that night, I watched her string up a blanket, dividing her corner of the room from the place where Ferran and I slept. She had never expressed much desire for privacy before, and I couldn’t help but wonder what had changed to make her less comfortabl
e with us than she used to be. Still, her kind manner toward Ferran was the same, and knowing her fondness for him, I didn’t believe she would leave us anytime soon.
Not until I lay down among my blankets to sleep did I remember that I hadn’t told either Ferran or Ada about my glimpse of the man with the scarred chin several days ago. Tomorrow, I told myself, I would remember to warn them our old enemy was back in town and that we must all be on our guard.
* * *
One morning not long after my return, I was awakened by an excited Ferran.
“It’s a special day, remember?” he asked me eagerly. “Your birthday.”
“Is it?” I asked, mentally ticking off the days and months.
He was right, I realized. Today I was fifteen years old. I had passed my last birthday in the Eyeless Tower, no place for merriment. But this one found me free and leading a new life. I supposed that was something to celebrate.
At Ferran’s urging, I crawled out of my blankets to find a surprise waiting for me. Ada had apparently used the oven downstairs to bake a pan of sweetberry tarts for the special occasion. I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten the tasty pastries.
When I thanked her, she looked pleased, and I felt a little of the stiffness between us melt away. Ferran snatched a tart and ran out the door with it, saying he was going to feed Ilan, the hound locked in the shed.
I enjoyed a leisurely breakfast before going to the market on errands and spending the rest of the morning with Javen. I didn’t return to The Ravenous Wolf until afternoon. That was when Ada came and found me out in the yard. Her face was anxious.
“Is Ferran with you?” she asked. “I haven’t seen him since early this morning.”
“He never came back from feeding the hound?” I asked.
She shook her head. “It’s probably nothing. Sometimes he plays with other children in the alleys.”
But I had a sinking feeling in my stomach. I thought of the man with the scarred chin and how I hadn’t wanted to burden Ferran these past couple of days by warning him the man had returned.
But I tried to reassure Ada. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll find him easily.”
I set off, combing the nearest lanes and enclosed yards, searching for my brother. My worry grew as I moved farther and farther from the ragged quarter without finding a sign of him. I asked all his playmates and even strangers I passed in the streets. By late afternoon, I found myself in the crowded market square.
And that was where I finally saw him, stealing scraps from behind the butcher shop for his dog. He had Ilan with him.
The dog waved her tail uncertainly as I approached.
“Ferran! I’ve been looking for you all afternoon. You had me sick with worry,” I scolded.
Ferran looked apologetic. “Ilan never gets out of her shed, so I sneaked her out. I wanted to show her the market.”
I calmed down, reminding myself it wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know how dangerous it was to leave the ragged quarter alone.
“We’re going back to The Ravenous Wolf,” I told him firmly.
But while we were out, we made a stop on the way. Earlier in the morning, I had left my magic bow with a fletcher to be repaired. I had been meaning to have the string replaced so it would finally shoot properly for as long as I had possessed the thing. Upon picking it up now, I found the weapon as good as new. Pleased by the improvement, I also bought arrows from the elderly fletcher and a quiver to carry them in. For the first time since losing my old arrows, my bow was finally ready for use.
Slinging the lot across my back, I returned to the streets with Ferran at my side. I was impatient to get the boy back to the safety of home. But he begged for a walk through the sprawling gardens in the finer part of town. Ilan, he insisted, hadn’t had enough exercise. I was reluctant. But I realized with a pang that my brother had spent far too much time lately cooped up in the squalid surroundings of the shadowed ragged quarter. The fresh air and sunshine of the gardens would do him good. He couldn’t live his whole life trapped in the room above the tavern or in the surrounding yards. Besides, I was with him and wouldn’t let any harm come to him.
All the same, we approached the gardens by means of shady backstreets and little-used alleys, and I kept a sharp eye out for danger all the way. Only when we passed the Temple of Light with its rolling lawns and the gloomy water cemetery with its eerie monuments did I relax.
As we walked among the sculptured hedges and splashing fountains, it occurred to me the time had come to introduce an unpleasant subject.
“We must be more careful for a while,” I told Ferran. “No more running away from the quarter without me or Ada. The man with the scarred chin has returned and may still be searching for us.”
Ferran didn’t look as frightened as I expected. He took up a stick from the ground and threw it for the dog. It landed at the feet of a tall elegant statue, a likeness of the ancient Queen Tamliess.
“So?” my brother asked with a shrug. “Someone is always chasing us.”
It was true. Still, while we strolled deeper into the gardens, I emphasized the need to keep a constant caution until our enemies wearied of searching for us.
Ferran remained unconcerned. “Father will take care of the scarred man,” he assured me. “When he comes to us, everything will be all right.”
I winced. It wasn’t the first such comment he had made over the past weeks. I had never told Ferran about our father’s execution. At first I had fully expected we would both follow him to death in the tower. So there was no need to burden him with the news that we were orphans. Then, during our escape, our early days of freedom were so fraught with danger that we had enough to worry about. Now I realized I had been wrong to put off the painful news. There would never be a better time to speak of it than now.
The sunshine that had been so warm earlier in the day had given way to an overcast sky. Light sprinkles began to fall. I looked around and saw a little roofed structure with flowering vines clambering up the sides. I led Ferran to the shelter, where we sat on stone benches with the hound at our feet, and waited for the rain to pass.
It was here, with the gentle rain pattering on the roof over our heads, that I finally told Ferran the truth about our father.
I had expected sadness. What I hadn’t expected was that my brother would jump to his feet in anger.
“Why did you not tell me before now?” he demanded, eyes filled with tears and face flushed with outrage. “Why did you let me think he was alive and he would come to take us home again someday?”
I tried to explain myself. “Ferran, there is no returning to Camdon. I thought you understood when we spoke of eventually settling in Dimmingwood that it would be forever. We haven’t taken on these new identities for a few weeks or months. The old life is behind us for good.”
Clearly, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. Before, he had seemed to accept all the changes in our new lives so easily. But maybe he wasn’t as resilient as I thought. Now he turned and dashed out into the rain before I could say another word.
“Ferran!” I called after my brother as he disappeared around the hedges.
I pulled up the hood of my cloak and stepped outside, where the light drizzle was turning into a harder rain. The black-and-tan hound followed at my heels. I peered through the sheets of water and the gathering gloom and tried to see which way Ferran had gone.
Rounding the near hedges, I caught no glimpse of him. I called his name, but I wasn’t sure he could hear me over the rumble of thunder overhead even if he had been close by. Unease growing, I hastened my steps, trotting through rows of wet shrubbery. The maze of bushes was so tall I couldn’t see far over the leafy barriers in any direction.
There was no cause for worry, I told myself. Like me, Ferran had become familiar with the parts of the city we traveled most often. After he had time to calm down, he would probably find his own way back to the ragged quarter.
Even so, I couldn’t relax unt
il I knew where he was.
“Go find him, dog,” I ordered the hound trotting along at my heels.
I didn’t honestly expect the beast to obey. But to my surprise, the animal put its nose to the ground and began sniffing among the puddles. Then it took off dashing through the bushes. Surprised, I followed after, quickening my pace to a run so I wouldn’t lose sight of the hound.
Maybe the dog was good for something besides keeping Ferran entertained, I thought, as I chased it through the soggy garden and past the temple grounds. It certainly seemed to know where it was going.
The hound hesitated as we neared the street. I suspected it was losing my brother’s scent in the rain.
Despite the dampness of my cloak, I suddenly felt a spreading warmth across my back. The magic bow was warning me of something. I slowed my steps and swept a wary glance up and down the cobbled street.
Then I saw him. At the end of the street a man in a dark cloak and three-cornered hat was riding away on horseback. I didn’t have to see his face to know he was our enemy with the scarred chin. And he was carrying Ferran away with him.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I doubted the man on horseback saw me through the rain and the gathering darkness as he raced away up the street. I had only a fleeting glimpse of Ferran mounted on the horse in front of him, and then they became a dark blur, receding into the distance.
I gave chase, running up the street after them. I continued to follow the noise of hooves ringing across the cobbles, even after twists in the road took them briefly out of view. The sleek streets I hurried down were cold and deserted. Only the houses flying past on either side gave glimpses of life, their windows glowing with the inner light of lamps or candles.