A March of Woe (Overthrown Book 3)

by Aaron Bunce

  Dennah looked down at him, her body shaking and face streaked with tears.

  “The town felt empty. So strangely empty. They’re here. They are all here. I thought it was the snow, the cold, that they were staying warm in their homes, but…” he trailed off, and angry knot seizing inside him.

  It was Greta, and Max, and Frenin – all the people that had died because he couldn’t stop it the first time. Tusk growled low, reacting to the sudden shift in Roman’s emotions. Shock and grief turned to anger and rage, a ripple of black flowing through the spirit dog’s body as he fed off his conduit’s strong emotions.

  “He is not what he seems,” Dennah said, hiccupping and wiping her eyes.

  Roman nodded, his hands balling up into fists so tightly that his joints ached. The Crow had told him as much, that his people had returned – that they were driven by an insatiable hunger for power and strength.

  “He took those that had value to him, and consumed the rest – men, women, children,” Roman muttered, his body shaking. He felt responsible, and wanted to lash out. He took a broad step back towards town, but Dennah spun and hooked his arm, pulling him back.

  “Wait, where are you going?” she asked.

  He jerked his arm away, grief and anger walking hand in hand with impatience. “I stood before that…that thing, and listened to it spit false promises and messages of peace, when it was doing this,” he said, gesturing towards the pile of shriveled bodes. “It made me feel welcome, important, and needed…and I believed it. I ate it up, like a fool. I’m going back there, and I’m going to kill him.”

  “You have no idea what you’re up against!” Dennah argued, hooking and pulling him as he tried to stomp off again. “He did that to all of those people, all on his own. What if he is too strong for you, Roman? What if he takes your strength, too? Then where are we?”

  Roman faltered. Her logic was sound, but he didn’t want to admit it. In truth, DaeGeroth scared him, just as Garon had before. The power radiating off of him now was frightening. How could he counter that much power?

  “So, what do we do? Let him enslave half of Denoril, and consume the rest?” he asked.

  “No!” Dennah spat back, defiantly. “No! We let our heads cool, and we figure out a way. We need help. Gods, Roman, you said the Crow told you there were more of these things out there. We don’t do Denoril any service by getting ourselves killed out here in the snow. We need help!”

  Roman’s face burned, but he realized that he was nodding. Damn her logic! He wanted her to support him and tell him they should run off and confront the beast, but she was right. He, no they, would die.

  “The Crow said his friend in the north would help us. Pera…find Pera in the north,” Roman said, reciting from memory.

  “It’s a start,” Dennah said, nodding, her eyes scanning the trees. “First, let’s–” she started to say, but Tusk’s angrily growl cut the cold air, drowning her out.

  “What is it, boy?” Roman asked. The dog took a small step towards the forest behind the winter barn, and then another. Something was huddling in the trees and watching them. Tusk could see, and smell it.

  “Tree line to the south, something is watching us,” Roman muttered, turning back to her.

  “The…the hunter?’ she stammered, her hand shaking.

  Roman shrugged, “Run away from us,” he whispered, and turned just as Tusk burst forward. The dog leapt, coiling, bunching muscles exploding into motion. He took off after Tusk, pulling the sword free as he pumped his legs.

  A dark shadow appeared in the brush, branches and twigs snapping loudly as the unknown figure took off at a run deeper into the trees. Tusk, his white fur blending in perfectly with the snow, galloped ahead of Roman, hitting the brush like a streak of furry lightning.

  His heart raced and lungs burned, but Roman moved as quickly through the snow as possible, reaching the trees just as he heard a commotion break out ahead. It could have been a person, or an animal, but it cried out fearfully, squealing in pain.

  Roman smashed through a low pine tree, the branches clawing and scraping his face and hands, but stumbled into another clearing on the other side. He caught sight of something large and furry topple forward, Tusk’s weight carrying it to the ground.

  Squeals of pain and fear filled the air as Tusk’s body snapped forward again and again. The dog was killing it, whatever or whoever it was.

  “Tusk!” Roman gasped, stomping lead-footed next to the dog and pulling him away. He caught the toe of his boot under the figure and kicked it over, the sword held up and ready to strike. The mass rolled over, the fur flopping to the side, heavily wrapped hands springing up to cover a pale face.

  Tusk lurched back in, Roman flinching to stop him, but the dog didn’t snap or bite. Instead, he licked. The young man grunted, trying ineffectually to push Tusk away. Dennah staggered up next to him, breathing hard from the run.

  “Folkvar?” she gasped.

  Roman sheathed the sword as his friend dropped to her knees at the young man’s side. Folkvar, now free from Tusk, scrambled to get away from them, his face white and eyes wide.

  “I don’t want to go back to him!” Folkvar cried, and tried to get up and run, but Dennah tackled him into the snow.

  “Folkvar, it’s me, Dennah!” she said, using her weight to hold him still.

  The young man struggled, clawing at her arms, the sleeve of her heavy shirt tearing. Roman dropped to his knees and wrestled Folkvar still, but not before the stable hand had pushed her other sleeve up to the elbow.

  “It…it’s really you. I’m…I’m not seeing you,” the young man stuttered, suddenly, his eyes focusing on Dennah’s face first, and then Roman’s.

  “We are really here!” Dennah said, reassuringly, and promptly pulled Folkvar into a crushing hug. After a few moments, Dennah released the young man and they both stood.

  “I thought you two were surely dead. How did you…? When did you…?” the young man asked, stammering as he tried to fumble over too many questions at once. “Wait! We shouldn’t be out in the open. Follow me!”

  Roman tried to catch Dennah’s gaze, but she promptly fell into step behind Folkvar. They followed the young man back into the trees, weaving a complicated path through the forest. They moved under trees, around them, and over a series of wind-swept bluffs. Roman, as intimate with the countryside around Bardstown as any, lost his bearings. A short while later he heard rushing water nearby, and realized that they had doubled back and were now near the river.

  Folkvar led them up another bluff, the incline covered with a thick growth of papery birch trees. They approached the top, one of Bardstown’s dilapidated watchtowers jutting out of the trees like a miniature, storm-ravaged castle. Several horses stood in the small lean-to stable, their nervous snorts rising like steam. One of the three horses chortled loudly as Roman approached, sticking its large, dark head out eagerly.

  “General?!” Roman gasped, and ran to the horse, throwing his arms around the animal’s wide neck.

  “Found him rambling through the woods, north of town,” Folkvar said, meekly, coming up behind them. “He had some nasty cuts on his flank, looked like claw marks, and sores on his legs, but I think he’s on the mend now!”

  “Thank you, Folkvar!” Roman said, running his hand down the horse’s soft nose. General nickered appreciatively and nosed his pockets, trying to root out a snack. “We’re not in Frenin’s stables anymore, old man. I don’t have any apples on me,” Roman laughed, and pushed the prodding horse away.

  Folkvar placed a boot on the side of the tower and pulled on the door, grunting and straining to pry it open. Slowly, metal grinding hollowly, the door eased open, allowing a wedge of warm, orange light to spill out over the trees.

  The young stable hand stepped aside, directing Dennah inside first. Roman followed, clapping the young man on the shoulder. A small fire flickered in the circular hearth. Several bed rolls lay strewn on the ground, covered with neatly folded blankets.
A kettle sat near the fire, while a small crate of food stood next to the door.

  “It’s nice and warm,” Dennah said as Folkvar wrenched the door closed behind them.

  A timber creaked overhead, and a heartbeat later something moved onto the tight staircase leading up to the lookout. Heavily worn boots appeared in the light, followed by a heavily stooped figure wrapped in a blanket. The man’s face caught the light, his mousy tufts of gray hair still holding a dusting of snow.

  “I thought I heard yer voice, girly!” the old man wheezed, toothlessly, descending the stairs.

  “Tadd!” Dennah cried, and rushed forward, smothering him in a crushing hug.

  Chapter Thirty

  Growing Out of Shadows

  Luca stuffed another spoonful of food into his mouth and chewed. He was famished, but wanted to be done more. Poe had shooed him off the night before, insisting that he and Emma get some sleep, but also because he claimed that Juna needed time to calm herself. Luca didn’t understand what that meant, but he was afraid that if he argued, they would change their minds.

  He swallowed and shoved another bite of the strange food into his mouth, more slopping onto his chin and cheeks than actually getting in. Emma stared from across the table, her mouth crunched up into a horrified, disgusted look.

  “Wha…?” he mouthed, food dribbling out.

  “You are a guest…” she started to chastise, but went silent as Juna swept into the room, her elegant dress replaced with a simple smock of muted colors.

  The matrona drew up to the table, her eyes sweeping between Emma and Luca, all the color from the previous night gone.

  “How fares the wilz-weed? Is it to your liking?” she asked.

  “This?” Luca asked, finally swallowing the messy bite, and gesturing to the bowl with his head. “It’s a weed?

  “A plant, yes. We have cultivated it for ages, perfecting it in root, leaf, and stem,” Juna replied, with a small smile.

  “It’s good. It tastes like porridge. Only chewy, not mushy like they made it at the Chapterhouse in Pinehall,” Luca admitted, as Emma scooped up a small bite with her fork and daintily placed it in her mouth.

  “It wasn’t mushy,” Emma whispered after swallowing.

  “Luca, won’t you walk with me?” Juna asked, turning and stepping away.

  Luca hastily wiped his face with a sleeve and pushed away from the table. Emma took another bite and watched him get up. “What does she want?” she mouthed silently.

  He shrugged, shaking his head and hopped forward to catch up, worry and doubt suddenly pinching his insides. Had she changed her mind? Or, had he dreamt it all?

  Juna led him through a bright room full of plants, and out through one of the many arched doorways, leading out into a garden. She followed a meandering path, the plants clustering between trees, flowers and leaves filling the space with wonderful colors.

  The matrona led him on in silence, Luca not wanting to speak out of turn. Finally, they curved around a large, moss-covered tree, the trunk so wide he was sure it would take twenty people with arms linked to wrap around it. A small pool sat on the other side, the pink stone rising steeply behind it, giving way to a small, bubbling waterfall.

  Juna continued around the pond, eventually settling into a bench not far from the waterfall. Luca followed and sat down next to her, the wind occasionally misting him with a touch of water.

  “Luca,” Juna started, but Luca cut in, his nerves wound tight.

  “I know. You aren’t going to help me.”

  The matrona turned her head ever so slightly to the side, and smiled. “And why do you say that?” she asked.

  Luca shrugged, his feet, which were too short to touch the ground, swinging nervously.

  “Luca, a dalan’s word is never given lightly. You made me see so many things, feel so many things last night, and I am committed to helping both you and my people. But you must understand, our road forward is full of pitfalls. The Matron Assembly has already ruled, and they will not hear another plea. Their wisdom has empowered Altair, who would sooner see you join Cassendyra in the Sted à glemme, than allow you to live a long peaceful life here, or return home.”

  “Why does he hate me so much?” Luca’s asked, his anxiousness abating slightly, his legs aching from the nervous fidgeting.

  “Look directly behind me, between the outside wall of my home and the statue in the middle of the copse of trees,” Juna said, not looking away from the waterfall.

  Luca peered into the trees, first finding the outside wall and then the weather beaten statue. He didn’t see anything, but as he moved to turn back, something shifted amongst the leaves. An animal, roughly the size of a deer materialized, its greenish brown coat making it almost invisible amongst the trees.

  “What is it?”

  “It is a dalan – one of Altair’s watchers, no doubt. They have been observing my home since before dawn’s first light. They are likely in the trees above us as well,” she said.

  Luca shrunk into the bench, his skin starting to crawl, like he could feel the innumerable eyes creeping in on him. He suddenly didn’t feel very safe at all.

  “Do they want to hurt me?” he asked, subconsciously sliding closer to Juna.

  The matrona met his gaze, worry lines appearing beneath her large, colorless eyes. She didn’t speak, and he knew why. She didn’t want to lie to him. Luca wrapped his arms around his body, fighting off a sudden chill.

  “That is why I wanted to talk to you out here, away from prying ears,” Juna said, shifting on the bench so she could talk directly to him. “Despite what Altair would have you believe, Cassendyra did not lie to you. There is a way that we can heal you. It would mend your infirmities, but it would also change you in ways that even the dalan do not fully understand. It is a skill that our people outlawed ages ago. And it is dangerous.”

  Luca perked up in the seat. “Dangerous?” he asked.

  “Yes,” Juna nodded, her gaze drifting off towards the hidden stag, her eyes seemingly taking in nothing and everything all at once.

  “I’m not afraid,” Luca said, bravely, straightening his back.

  “A braver soul I have never encountered,” Juna responded, quickly, dropping her gaze to him. “But you must know. When the Nym took us, we were naught but babes. They suckled us, not on milk, but on the very energy coursing through their bodies. We were changed by it, grown into something not man or woman, but not Nym either. In the ages since, we have learned the weening way, and can replicate it, although it takes two dalan of significant knowledge and prowess.”

  “I am ready,” Luca cut in, eagerly.

  “Before you say that, I need you to understand. The Nym did this without our permission. They stole our childhoods, replacing it with fragments of themselves. That is why we dalan decided to leave Denoril’s shores for good, Luca, not because of your people. We have spent the…” she searched the air for a moment, “thaws, I believe you call them, collecting scrolls, texts, and manuscripts, stealing them from your people in secret. We tried to use that information to fill in the gaps of our own lives, willfully trying to fill the void separating your people from mine. That is why so many dalan appear like common folk to you. It is because they are trying to become what they were once destined to be, to reclaim that life taken from them. Without your people, we dalan would lose all semblance of what we once were, how we looked and spoke. Do you see now? If we do this, you will be changed forever. There is a possibility you will feel like a stranger, an outsider amongst your people. It is possible they will not accept you.”

  Luca nodded, listening intently and trying to understand. “Is that why Altair hates me? Because he knew that this is what Cassendyra wanted for me?

  Juna nodded, her smile widening. “Your mind is swift, Luca. Yes, Altair belongs to a small faction of our people that seek to diverge totally from your people. They view you and Emma as evidence of our former weakness, our mortality, and they want nothing more than to shed that skin.
There are those, like Altair, that would see your elevation as the worst treason and would reject you. In Altair’s eyes, you would not belong here, or with your people.”

  “That’s why I am not safe here,” Luca whispered, his eyes flitting from shadow to shadow.

  “I will see you whole, Luca, if you wish it. But I wanted you to understand the risks first. It is a complicated ritual – one that will cause you great pain, and in the end, possibly change more than just your body…and,” Juna said, stopping as a stick snapped somewhere off in the trees.

  Luca’s eyes darted up, quickly scanning the forest. The peculiar stag moved between two trees, dropping its head to feed on a low shrub, now closer to them than before. Strangely, the small waterfall behind them grew louder. His hands balled up into fists, the subtle ache in his legs more noticeable now, the necklet’s power continuing to fade. He was tired of pain and weakness, having to rely on others, but mostly, he was tired of constantly being afraid.

  “I want to do it,” he said, firmly. Juna started to speak, but he cleared his throat. “I am sure. I want you to do it,” he added, meeting her peculiar eyes and not shying away.

  Juna nodded, her smile faltering a bit.

  “Very well. But there is a task we must complete before, as I cannot perform the weening on my own.”

  “What about Poe?” Luca asked.

  “I’m sure you have noticed, but Poe is not like other dalan, Luca. When he was much younger, Poe was a smith of great skill. But he was touched by something powerful, something primal, and it changed him. Unfortunately, he cannot control his abilities. He is as much wolf as he is Poe, and although he does not lose reason when he shifts, I think he fears that he might. I need another dalan of great skill and power. Although there are many that will sympathize with you, we will be hard pressed to find another willing to violate the Matron Assembly’s wisdom. There is only one willing, and able, and unfortunately, she lies in darkness.”

  “Cassendyra,” Luca whispered.

  Juna nodded, catching sight of the stag growing yet closer, and stood. “Come, Luca, let’s walk back to the house. You should get your rest, I fear a long night lies ahead of you,” she said, helping him up.