“What does she sense?” Feodor asked.
Ivan laughed good-naturedly. “Do you think the hounds talk to me in some sort of special speech that only dog-trainers know?”
“As a matter of fact I do,” Feodor said. “Trees talk to me in a way only a woodcutter’s son could know.”
Snorting mist, Thunder trotted back until Petor towered above them. “The hounds sense something. Do you know what?”
“Not exactly,” Ivan said. “They’re not straining at the leash to give chase. So they don’t sense the normal animals they’re used to hunting.”
Yury shouted from ahead. “What’s going on? Let’s go!”
“Have either of you noticed anyone tracking us?” Petor asked.
“I have,” Feodor admitted.
“What about you, Ivan? Have you spotted this tracker?”
“No,” Ivan said. “Until Flay picked up the spoor, I had no idea anything was amiss.”
Petor rubbed his frost-reddened chin. “Who do you think tracks us?”
“I thought you knew,” Feodor said. “Nadia follows us.”
Ivan turned and cupped his hands. “Nadia!” he yelled. “We know you’re here!”
A quarter-mile away on the trail they’d just blazed a figure on horseback appeared. She rode out of a clump of trees and toward them.
Yury cantered back as she approached. “So she followed us, eh? Yes, I would’ve done the same thing.”
Nadia rode up, warmly bundled in a white fur coat. Several scarves hid her face. A pack sat behind her saddle, while lashed underneath her right leg was something in leather wrappings. Its length seemed that of a solid walking staff. No doubt, it was the polished and carefully carved wand. What surprised Ivan was an unstrung bow on the left side of the saddle, within easy reach of a bow-case.
“You have a bow?” Ivan said.
She pulled down her scarves. “A former Magyar chieftain taught me archery at the Chapter-House. I’m not very good from up here in the saddle. On the ground, however, I can hit most targets.”
Impressed, Ivan wondered if she’d let him use it. He liked bows, but since it was a nobleman’s sport weapon, the likes of him seldom used one.
Petor rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes, this talk about bows is all very well, but what am I going to do now?”
“Do?” Nadia asked.
“You can’t stay with us,” Petor said.
Nadia arched her eyebrows. “You mean you’re going to deny your fire to a wandering maiden?”
“What fire?” Petor asked.
She made a vague gesture.
“Let her join,” Yury said. “We need to keep traveling.”
Petor eyed his younger brother. Yury had already lost interest in Nadia. He turned his horse toward the forest.
“She can’t go back tonight,” Feodor told Petor. “It’s too far. I don’t know about Ivan, but I’m tired. I need to throw down my pack, eat and sleep.”
“I’m joining you,” Nadia said.
“Excuse me?” Petor asked. “I don’t think I heard you.”
“I said I’m joining you,” Nadia said.
Petor shook his head. “You heard what your escort said.”
“That’s why I had to sneak away. But don’t worry. I left her a note.”
“This is ridiculous,” Petor said, getting frustrated.
Ivan could have told him that arguing with Nadia was a waste of time. She planned on seeing Sir Karlo and that was that.
“I don’t see what’s so ridiculous,” Nadia said. “You can go home and I’ll even ride along, but the next chance I have to saddle a horse, I’ll be off again and following you.”
Feodor told Petor, “My advice is to let her join.”
Petor knuckled his mustache in thought.
Yury shouted from ahead, “Are you four going to stand around and jaw the rays of sunlight away? Come on! Let’s go.”
“Well?” Nadia asked Petor.
“For tonight you may camp with us.”
“Where do you plan to camp?” she asked.
“At the edge of the Old Forest.” So saying, Petor turned Thunder.
They traveled until the sun ballooned into a red ball on the western horizon. The east looked like a vast wall. Yury galloped ahead, then raced back and told them he’d picked the campsite. It was a sheltering under several closely-packed pines. They set up three small crawl-tents and threw fur-lined sleeping bags into them.
Feodor built a fire and cooked supper. Nadia and Yury attended to the horses. Ivan looked after his hounds. Petor tramped around until he was satisfied everything was in order.
Subdued by their thoughts, they ate supper beside the fire. Nadia, Feodor and Petor climbed into their separate crawl-tents and slipped into their sleeping bags. Yury had first watch and Ivan wished to ask him a thing or two.
The dying fire threw shadows on the pines. With his belted sword, Yury sat on a rock and stared into the night.
Ivan walked up. “How are you feeling?”
“Good.”
They sat quietly, listening to the whispering wind. Branches creaked. An owl, somewhere in the darkness, hooted in flight. Then, very faintly, they heard an eerie howl. Both of them tensed, waiting for more howls. They never came. The two youths glanced at one another.
“Was that a wolf?” Yury asked.
“It must have been.”
“It sounded different than a wolf.”
Ivan agreed. The howl had made goosebumps jump onto his arms. There had seemed something lost about the sound. He’d been glad when it stopped. Already the Old Forest seemed more sinister because of it.
Maybe that’s when Ivan noticed that Yury didn’t wear his gloves. Ivan frowned and then squinted in the darkness. Yury passed something from hand-to-hand.
“Aren’t your hands cold?” asked Ivan.
“Huh? Oh! No.”
“What are you holding?”
Yury seemed reluctant to answer. At last, he smiled sheepishly and showed Ivan a black chess piece, a king. Only this king wasn’t one of his pine-carved pieces. It was twice as big as Yury’s regular pieces and looked to be made out of ivory.
“Gronlandian ivory?” Ivan asked in sudden understanding.
“It’s one of Sir Karlo’s pieces. I gave him my white king. He gave me his black one.”
Ivan nodded, recalling that Magda hadn’t liked the idea of Yury losing something personal to Sir Karlo. Did it have anything to do with magic? He’d have to ask Nadia. There couldn’t be anything more personal to Yury than one of his self-carved chess pieces.
“Can I see it?” asked Ivan.
Yury held up the king for inspection, but he didn’t offer to hand it over.
Ivan wondered if he should snatch the piece. The mulish look on Yury’s face decided him against the attempt. He grunted instead and pretended to lose interest.
Yury slipped the king away and put his gloves back on. He gave Ivan several sly side-glances. Ivan noticed, but pretended not to.
“Adventure in the Old Forest,” Ivan said. “You’re right, Yury. This is the thing. Maybe we should have joined Karlo. He asked me to join him, you know?”
Yury licked his lips and lowered his head. He whispered, “Have you seen him then?”
Ivan stiffened. “I’m not sure.”
“I’m sure he watches us.”
Ivan asked with feigned idleness, “Is he watching us now?”
“No! Not now.”
They watched the stars for a time. A shooting star fell.
“Say,” Ivan asked, “it isn’t Sir Karlo who watches us, is it?”
Yury snorted.
“Who then?” asked Ivan.
“I don’t know his name,” Yury said. “But I’ve seen him.”
“What does he look like?”
“Tall. Dark. Shimmering cloak. Pale green eyes.”
“Green?”
“Like swamp gas,” Yury whispered.
Ivan took hold of Yury’s forearm. �
�Are you feeling well?”
“Sometimes I’m not sure. Sometimes…”
“Yes?”
“Nothing,” Yury said curtly, disengaging his arm. “You’d better get some sleep.”
“Sure, Yury, but if you see this man again, will you come get me?”
“Yes. I’d like it if someone else saw him.”
Troubled, Ivan crawled into the tent with Feodor. He lay in his sleeping-bag, thinking. In time, he fell into a fitful slumber.
-26-
Ivan’s dream began sometime after midnight. In his dream, he stood in a forest. This forest had no snow and was made up of gnarled oaks and towering beeches in full bloom. Down the shadowed lanes—for the shimmering leaves kept the dream-forest in eternal gloom—grew a profusion of red and yellow toadstools. Ivan walked down one of the aisles, carefully tiptoeing between the toadstools so as not to crush them. That seemed terribly important for some reason.
As he strolled down the wooded lane, he began to wonder where everyone else had gone. He knew he was supposed to be with others, but he couldn’t quite remember who they were. Suddenly, with the swiftness of a lightning bolt, a foreboding presence stole near. He glanced right and left. Looking down, he saw that the toadstools changed from a healthy red and yellow to a sickly rotting color. Walking faster, throwing worried glances over his shoulder, he saw the leaves wither and blacken. A foul stench rose from the ground like a fog.
Confused and scared that something stalked him, he broke into a trot. He crushed the rotted toadstools. Something dead within the forest moaned. The horrid moan was of someone who had lost all hope. The black-barked trees with their black leaves twisted and tried to touch him. Then Ivan saw pale, evil green eyes stare at him from within the darkest part of the forest.
He tried to yell. Instead, his question came out in a whisper. “Who are you?”
The evil thing with the pale green eyes advanced. It wore a dark helmet and a large black cloak that shimmered with a horrid life of its own.
“Who are you?” Ivan asked, this time louder than before.
The sinister shadow stopped, hissing, “You are not the one.”
Ivan grew faint at the death-like voice.
“Yet…”
Ivan turned and ran.
“Come back,” the foul shadow whispered.
Ivan ran faster. Fear ate at him. The thing closed. Ivan quailed, yet with a valiant effort he roared, “NO!”
Ivan bolted upright and looked wildly around. He sat in the crawl-tent. Outside the stars twinkled. Beside him, Feodor tossed in his sleep. “It was just a nightmare,” Ivan told himself. Before he could decide, he fell back asleep.
-27-
In the morning, snow drifted down from the sky. As Ivan crawled out, a clump of snow that had gathered atop the tent fell onto his neck. He jumped with a muttered curse. Wetness trickled under his collar despite his hurried brushing. He approached the fire. Feodor feed it tiny, broken pieces of twig. It almost seemed that his hands shook. He stirred a pot of porridge and twitched each time a snowflake hissed into the fire.
“Are you all right?” asked Ivan.
“Did you sleep well?” Feodor blurted out in a rush.
Ivan gave him a quizzical glance as he sat and warmed his hands. “I had a troubling dream,” he admitted.
“You too?”
“What do you mean?” Ivan asked suspiciously.
Feodor picked up a twig and with his thumb snapped off tiny pieces. When he’d gathered all the pieces in his palm, he tossed them into the fire. A sheen of sweat covered his face and his breathing seemed rapid.
Feodor said in a rush, “I woke up several times last night and found it difficult to go back to sleep. Every time I did…” He brushed his eyes. “Every time I did a dark man stalked me through a rotted-out forest.”
“What did he look like?” Ivan asked, with worry worming in his gut.
“I don’t know, exactly. He kept himself hidden within the shadows. Once or twice, I saw that he wore a helmet. He also had a long dark cloak. Sometimes the cloak seemed like wings.”
“His eyes,” Ivan whispered. “What color were his eyes?”
“A pale, pale green.”
“Oh no,” Ivan whispered. “I dreamed the same thing.”
Feodor wiped his eyes again. When he threw another twig into the fire, his hands definitely shook. “What does that mean?” he asked.
“I think we should ask Yury.”
Just then, Yury stepped into the clearing. “Ask me what?” he asked.
Feodor told him about the dream. Then he demanded to know, “Why did Ivan say I should ask you?”
Yury stared mulishly at the fire. Finally, he said, “I suppose Ivan said that because I’ve seen this dark man, as you put it.”
“You’ve seen him?” Feodor asked in disbelief. “As in the waking hours?”
“Yes,” Yury said.
Feodor sat back with a dazed look. He asked, “When did you first see him?”
Yury shrugged.
“That’s no answer.”
Ivan knew the woodcutter’s son. He hated to be afraid. When he did become afraid, as he’d once been on a bear hunt, he became angry. The anger camouflaged the fear. It was also one of the few times when Feodor became unpredictable.
“Oh, all right,” Yury said irritably. “I saw him a week ago.”
“What?” Ivan and Feodor shouted together.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone?” Ivan asked.
“I don’t know,” Yury grumbled. “At the time it didn’t seem important.”
Ivan glanced at Feodor. Feodor wore his mean look.
The hounds began to fight then. Ivan, half as an excuse to leave and think this through, raced off to separate the hounds. He saw Nadia and Petor sit down with the others. They joined the argument. Scolding his hounds once more, Ivan hurried back to the fire.
“You should’ve told Father about the dark man,” Petor said. He handed Ivan a bowl of porridge.
Despite his hunger, Ivan only picked at it.
“Actually,” Nadia said, in what sounded like an offhanded manner, “Yury should have told Magda or me.”
“Why?” Petor asked. “Why not tell Master Volok so he could capture and question the man?”
“Because Master Volok couldn’t have captured him,” Nadia said. “Both Feodor and Ivan dreamed about the dark man. In the dream he chased them through a black forest, and the dreams were terrifying enough that it woke both Feodor and Ivan.”
“What are you saying?” Petor asked.
“That the dark man isn’t human,” Nadia said.
Petor blanched. “Why do you say this?”
“Because the dark man was in Feodor’s and Ivan’s dreams,” Nadia said in her maddeningly calm manner.
Petor asked, “When you say he was in their dreams, do you mean that the he who this dark man is, was actually inside their dreams?”
“No,” Nadia said. “Nobody can do that. But I think this dark man isn’t real in the way that you and I are real. I think his...his presence invaded Feodor’s and Ivan’s dream because he watched them last night.”
Petor gaped in amazement. Feodor shot to his feet.
Nadia said, “I think the dark man is a faint.”
The blood drained from Feodor’s face. With a groan, he sank back onto his stone and stared fixedly at the fire.
“What’s a faint?” asked Ivan.
“It’s all that is left of an evil person after he dies. Such was his bondage to a powerful spellcaster that the faint remains for further service.”
Feodor made a choking sound.
Nadia rose. “We should be on our way.”
Petor shook his head. “Not until I gain an understanding of what’s going on.”
“Yes,” Yury said. “Why the skullduggery?”
Nadia sat down. “A week ago, both the escort and I sensed a presence stalking Belgorod Holding. It was evil, we knew that, but we didn’t know its purpos
e. The escort attempted to name it. The effort failed. I feared to attempt a naming.”
“Did you tell Master Volok?” Petor asked.
“I told Magda. She conferred with Lady Belgorod. Finally, in the end, we spoke to Master Volok.”
“This is confusing,” Petor said. “If you sensed this presence, then why didn’t you tell any of us? And since you didn’t tell us, why did Father allow this mission?”
“You’re to bring back the farmers,” Nadia said. “If it’s dangerous for you to travel, then it’s even more dangerous for them to be in the Old Forest.”
“No,” Petor said. “If it was that dangerous, then my father would be here. He wouldn’t send his sons into peril if he himself wouldn’t go. What aren’t you telling us?”
Nadia sighed. “If you must know…Magda, the escort and I believe that the faint was sent to watch me. It isn’t a danger to the rest of you.”
“Who sent it?” Petor asked.
Nadia fidgeted, no longer meeting their eyes. “I believe this began at the Chapter-House in Pavia.”
Ivan was certain that she was lying. This…faint must have everything to do with Karlo.
“If all this is true,” Petor said, “then why have you left Belgorod Holding? There is more safety behind the holding’s walls and in the company of the Sisterhood escort than here with us.”
Nadia bit her lip.
“Please, Nadia,” Petor said, “Speak plainly. We’re your friends. We need your help.”
Nadia remained silent.
“If this faint follows us,” Ivan said slowly, “then why has only Yury seen it in the daytime?”
“Yes,” Feodor growled.
Yury said, “Shouldn’t we first hear what Nadia’s purpose is?”
“The plain truth,” Nadia said, “is that I plan to destroy the faint. The escort would try to stop me. Therefore, I’ve left her company and joined yours. Once I’m far enough away from her influence, I’ll vanquish this evil creature.”
Silence greeted her words. Feodor straightened. Some of his anger had vanished to be replaced by hope.
“The faint is an evil thing,” Nadia said. “It’s filled with malice and deceit. Once, long ago, it served Old Father Night or the Lord of Bats.”
Alarmed, Petor asked, “Can you truly vanquish this thing?”
The Dragon Horn Page 18