“You can come inside if you like,” she said, unlocking her front door. “I can make you something to eat.”
Fletcher made no comment as he marched right on in after her. Seeing the kitchen table, he slouched down into one of the chairs and tapped his fingers against the wood.
“So, what’s for dinner?” he asked.
Norabel went to her counter to see what she had. “There’s some meat and bread if you like.”
“Meat and bread, huh?” he asked. He continued to tap his fingers against the wood and sighed.
“If you’d like to wait, I can make you some stew,” she offered pleasantly.
“Hmm. Stew does sound good.”
She put the loaf of bread on the table to keep him appeased while she returned to the counter to start chopping vegetables for the stew. Fletcher jammed his fingers into the bread and took little pieces of it while he was waiting.
“So,” he commented casually. “You got back home awfully late. What were you doing?”
Norabel continued chopping as she answered, “I was walking. Just saying hi to a few friends.”
“You must have a lot of friends.”
She went to the hearth at the corner of her kitchen and put some logs of wood inside. She used a pinch of Snapper to light it, and then hung a pot over the fire. When she stood back up, she nearly jumped, for Fletcher was standing right behind her.
“How does a girl get so many friends?” he asked.
His hand came up and brushed away a strand of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Norabel tried to remain calm as she felt his fingers slide behind her ear to tuck the strand back in place.
“I just try to be nice to everyone I meet,” she told him.
Stepping around him, she went back to her cutting board.
“You know, that never seems to work for me,” he said.
The floorboards creaked, and she could hear him moving around her small living-room. Taking a quick peek behind her, she saw him pocket an apple and the wooden figurine of a tree that her mother had left her.
“Well, there’s a trick to it,” Norabel called out, trying to focus solely on chopping the vegetable in front of her.
“Oh yeah? A trick?” He returned to his spot at the table, and she could feel him staring at her back.
“Yes,” she nodded. “If you want to be friends with someone, before you talk to them, you just have to picture one happy thing. Just one thing that makes you happy.”
“And that does it?”
She went to the pot and put the chopped vegetables and meat inside.
“It usually does,” she said.
“And if it doesn’t?” he questioned, lifting his boot up onto her table and picking away at the caked on dirt.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Then you think of two happy things.”
He put his foot down and fiddled with the little clumps of dried mud that he had discarded onto the table. “You mean, like an Albatross Seed?” he asked.
Norabel faltered a moment, almost cutting her finger on the knife in her hands. She chose to say nothing to this, and Fletcher was quiet after that as she continued to make his dinner. She tried to avoid looking at him, instead choosing to stare at the stew pot or into the flames. When it was finally finished, she served Fletcher a bowl, and he gobbled it down. She didn’t dare take any while he was eating, and after his first serving, he promptly asked for another. He went on to eat a third and fourth helping, until there was only one more bowl-full left.
“You know what?” he said, scooping the last bit of it into his bowl. “I think I’ll take this for the road.” Then he walked to the door with the bowl in his hand and waved goodbye to her, saying, “Night Norabel. I’ll see you real soon.”
When he had finally gone, she rested her back against the kitchen wall in exhaustion and pressed her palms into her forehead. It was nearly time for her to go to bed, but she hadn’t eaten any dinner yet. Trudging over to the kitchen counter, she began to tiredly slice up the rest of the bread.
*
Hunter stared blankly into the small fire he had built for his meager camp. Tonight was the first night of his journey, and already he could see how exhausting it was going to prove. He had turned off the main road earlier that day and had found the smaller path that Auberon had told him to take. Since the path led to a rockier part of the wood, he was having to make camp squished between two jagged boulders.
Looking over to where he had tethered his horse to a tree, he almost envied him. He had given him the more level of ground in their campsite. He couldn’t bring himself to tie his horse to a patch of ground where he would constantly be slipping throughout the night.
From somewhere in the forest, a night owl screeched. Fear pricked at Hunter, but he quickly quelled it, reminding himself that it was only a bird.
Reaching over from his spot by the fire, he grabbed his pack. He rummaged around in it for a minute until he finally found what he was looking for. Pulling it out, he held it near the fire so he could better see. The clay bird in his hands stared back at him, and he gingerly rubbed his thumb across it.
See, he told himself. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Birds aren’t scary.
Another owl screeched, and something rustled in a bush not too far away.
They’re not scary, he told himself again. So stop being afraid.
A twig cracked, even louder than the rustle, and his horse neighed, trying to back up from the tree he was tied to.
Alright, he decided. Maybe they’re a little scary.
Getting to his feet, he quickly stomped out his fire. Then, grabbing his pack, he rushed over to his horse and hastily tried to undue the rope connecting him to the tree.
Another twig broke, and he could have sworn he heard whispering.
“Who’s out there?” he yelled.
He peered out into the dark wood, but there was only still silence. He went back to the rope and undid it in a few more hurried pulls. When it was finally free, he mounted up on his horse and kicked him into a fast trot. He hadn’t gone more than a few paces when an arrow came flying near his head.
“Whoa!” he cried out. “Don’t shoot!”
Another arrow flew through the air, narrowly missing his arm. He kicked his horse to go faster. Taking a look behind him, he searched for any sign of his attackers, but couldn’t see anything. Facing forward again, he had to pull violently back on his reins as a little boy suddenly appeared in the road before him.
The boy was young, around five or six. He was wearing worn and tattered clothes that looked too big for him, like they had been passed down from an older brother that had been much taller at his age. Though it was dark, there was something Hunter could see in the boy’s eyes that irked him. They looked far wiser than that of a five-year-old, almost as if this child he had stumbled upon was really an ancient presence as old as Valor Wood itself.
“What are you doing?!” Hunter exclaimed in a whisper, his heart thundering in his ears.
The little boy merely put a finger to his lips.
Hunter looked cautiously around him. It didn’t seem as if there were any more arrows coming at him. But there was no way he had lost his attackers. They still had to be out there somewhere. Maybe they weren’t firing at him because of the little boy near him.
“What are you doing out here in the night?” he asked. His horse anxiously pawed the ground underfoot, not wanting to stand still.
The boy put his hands behind his back and shook his head like it was a secret.
“Where are your parents?” Hunter inquired further.
Again he shook his head.
Hunter took another look to the trees around him. He couldn’t just leave this boy by himself. And he seemed to be the only thing keeping him from becoming pierced with arrows.
Dismounting, he took a step over to the boy, asking, “Where do you live?”
The boy shook his head and took one hand from his back to motion him to come closer.
; “Yeah?” he asked.
He bent down so that he was eyelevel with the boy. The boy took his other hand from behind his back, and Hunter looked down at his small, balled-up fist. Opening up his palm, Hunter saw there was a thin layer of white dust inside. Before he could react, the boy blew the dust in his face.
The vague outline of someone dropping down from the trees played in Hunter’s eyes like a dying ray of light, before he crumpled to the floor, and the world around him went black.
Chapter 13
That morning, when Norabel went to the Amias Gift left at her doorstep, she was actually looking forward to the little bits of food she might find inside. Fletcher had cleaned out most of the food in her house, and she wouldn’t have time to go buy more before work.
Opening up the small, woven basket, she was surprised to find only one object inside. A single silver box. It looked like the kind of boxes that Snapper was usually stored inside. Taking it carefully in her hands, she lifted the lid and found a stash of blue powder inside. That was certainly not Snapper, but she had heard of other powders out there that people used for different purposes. Some were harmless enough, but most of them were bad news. Looking at the blue powder in this box, Norabel had a sinking feeling that this would prove to be trouble as well. Going back inside, she left the silver box on her kitchen table and then turned to leave for work.
Across the street, Iris was bending over her family’s Amias Gift, and promptly picked up the silver box inside. She looked at it inquisitively for a moment before pinching some of the powder between her fingers.
“Iris! Put that down!” Norabel yelled out.
Iris froze. She looked to Norabel curiously as she ran over to her.
“What is it?” Iris asked, letting the powder in her fingers fall back into the box.
“I don’t know, sweetie,” she said, gingerly taking the box from her and setting it back down in the basket. “But it’s dangerous to play with things when we don’t know what they do. Especially colored powders.”
“Iris?” her father’s voice called from inside. “Are you out here?”
A moment later, Keaton appeared at the door. When he saw that Norabel was there with his daughter, he gave her a nod.
“Norabel. Thank you for…for what you did yesterday,” he said, referencing to his encounter with Fletcher.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t able to stop him.”
He looked down to his daughter and took her hand, saying, “Go on inside. Your mother’s got breakfast ready.”
Norabel watched Iris happily skip inside, and then looked back to Keaton.
“How are you doing?” she asked. Then, glancing down at her hands, she added, “I mean, with…”
“We can manage,” Keaton answered, nodding his head. Then he sighed, admitting, “I don’t know for how long though.”
She twisted her fingers together, wondering how to word the things she was thinking, before saying, “You know. I don’t…I don’t need all the money I make. I just have to look out for myself, and I don’t need to eat as much as most people do.”
“Oh, Norabel,” he said, waving his hand. “No, we can’t…”
“You can,” she said, suddenly thrusting her purse of coins in front of him. “Either you take it now, or I’ll give it to Iris, and she might end up spending it all on candied fruit or something.”
“I…” Keaton stuttered. Slowly he raised up his palm, and she gingerly dropped it inside. “Thank you,” he said, looking her sincerely in the eyes. “From my whole family. Thank you Norabel.”
She smiled and nodded. “Well, I have to get going to work now.” Before she left, she pointed down to the basket on their doorstep, saying, “Oh, I’d be a little cautious about the gift this morning. At least until someone figures out what it is.”
After work that day, Norabel made her way over to the path into the mountain towards their Harbinger meeting place. When she got there, she found everyone gathered in a circle around a rock in the meadow, and a silver box from someone’s Amias Gift had been placed on top.
“Does anyone know what that does?” Norabel asked, coming into their circle.
From were Archer stood, he took an apple out of his pocket and crunched loudly into it.
“I think I have a sneaking suspicion of what it is,” Logan answered, folding his arms in front of his chest and frowning down at the box. “And with the caravan we saw coming from Liadrel, I’d say I’m pretty certain.”
Archer took another large bite of his apple, the sound of his chewing loudly crunching through all their ears like the trot of a heavy man walking through crusty snow.
“So what is it?” Mason prompted.
“It’s…” Logan started, but then stopped when Archer took another echoing bite of food. “Archer! Do you think you could not do that right now!” he asked, growing annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” Archer mumbled around the food in his mouth. “I slept through my lunch break. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.”
Logan took a deep breath and waited for the crunching to finally stop before announcing, “It’s an FPS.”
“I came to the same conclusion as well,” Ashlin said, nodding gravely at the silver box.
“What does that mean?” Norabel asked.
“Forbidden powdered substance, “Ashlin explained. “It’s one of several types of powders that are sold illegally. Most of them originate from Liadrel, which is why they are considered forbidden. But each kind of powder has a special…well, has a special effect on the human body. Some can make a person fall asleep in an instant, some can make your body stronger, or weaker, and some can even kill. Let’s just say it’s a good thing this powder isn’t black. Those ones are all lethal.”
“Well, which is this?” Norabel asked, her eyes wide with concern.
“I think they call it…”
Archer took another bite of apple, giving Logan a sheepish look and trying to eat slower so that he muffled his crunching.
“Pleasure Powder,” Logan continued. “Instead of inhaling it, people burn a little mound of the stuff and breathe in the smoke. It’s supposed to fill you with a strange sort of euphoria. A kind of ecstasy.”
“How do you know so much about this?” Mason asked.
Logan took a sigh and admitted, “Because, before you came to work with me, there was a guy at the Steel Works that was addicted to the stuff. The more he took, the dumber he got. One day, it got so bad that he ended up getting hurt, nearly burned his hand off.”
“Well, what should we do?” Archer asked, turning his apple around to find a prime spot to take the next bite. “You wanna try and steal em?”
“No,” Ashlin said. “We can’t. Not unless you want to break into every house in Breccan.”
“What’s done has been done already,” Mason said. “We should just focus on the job at hand. Norabel, what did you find out about the stables yesterday?”
Norabel gulped and looked down to her boots. She felt bad about giving out the information she had learned when those four boys had been so kind to her.
“Norabel?” Mason prompted.
“You did go, didn’t you?” Archer asked, giving her a skeptical look.
“Yes, I went,” she answered.
“So let’s hear it,” Ashlin said. “How many guards?”
“Uh, one. Just one.”
“Keep going,” Mason urged gently.
She cleared her throat and took a deep breath, reminding herself that the Harbingers were going to attack the stables whether she helped them or not.
“You can reach the stables by a village road that’s blocked from the view of the stronghold. The guard they have on duty carries a ring of three keys. The largest of them opens the stable door. And, from what I understand, the guard’s not too keen on having to watch a bunch of horses in the night. He’ll probably surrender without you having to hurt him.”
“Wow,” Mason commented, giving her a smile. “How’d you find all that out?”
Norabel felt a sensation of delight well up inside her, but she quickly snuffed it out, reminding herself of what she did in order to acquire that information.
“Just by looking,” she answered.
Archer reached over and actually bumped her arm in a sign of respect. “See Norry! You can go just about anywhere without being noticed. No one ever suspects you of anything. You look too much like a kid.”
“Logan and I found a feasible route out to the forest,” Mason announced, bringing the attention back on him. “And with Norabel’s intel…I say we go tonight.”
“No rest for the rebels, huh?” Archer commented, sticking his apple core in his pocket. “A basket job one night, and a horse heist the next. I’m gonna have to find a better way to get some sleep during the lunch hour.”
“W-what?” Norabel stuttered. No one told her that they had pulled a job last night.
“Are you just gonna leave that in your pocket?” Ashlin asked, pointing to where the apple was sticking out of his pants.
“I think it gives me a sorta sugary-sweet smell,” Archer answered proudly.
“It’s going to start rotting,” she said, wrinkling her nose.
“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Logan volunteered. “He once kept a strawberry in his pocket for a whole week. The thing smelt horrible! You don’t even want to know how I finally got it out of there.”
Before Archer could defend himself, Norabel spoke up, asking, “You pulled a job last night? Why didn’t you tell me?”
The group instantly quieted, and she looked to the circle of faces around her. Archer seemed unfazed, Logan gave her an apologetic look, and Mason and Ashlin were turning to each other as if silently debating what they should tell her.
Finally it was Ashlin that spoke, saying, “Hey Belly. Would you mind if I talk to you for a minute, just us girls?”
Norabel nodded and moved her feet forward in a daze until she and Ashlin were halfway across the meadow, a safe distance away from the boys.
“You know you did great work yesterday with the stable intel,” Ashlin told her with a smile.
She knew it was a compliment, but Norabel felt like she was being spoken to as a child.
Chasing Shadows (Saving Galerance, Book 1) Page 15