Sounds were amplified in the fog and he could hear strange noises coming from the distant, unseen fields. The normal birdsong and the sigh of the wind were missing entirely and even Malcolm had to admit that the atmosphere was incredibly eerie.
The only thing he could smell was a hint of salt in the air, a reminder of the nearby sea shore. The fog even chocked off the scent of pine from the forest.
He kept the wall of the castle to his left as he began walking again and paid more attention to where he was stepping. A broken ankle was not something that he wanted to deal with.
It wasn't until he had reached the rear of the castle, which was much closer to the forests of the north, that Malcolm felt a heavy cold sensation descend upon him. The fog was even thicker here, out of the direct light of the hidden sun, and all that Malcolm could hear was the chirping of crickets, not a sound normally heard at that time of the day, and the overly-loud noise from his own footsteps. He felt like he had suddenly skipped ahead in time and that evening had fallen over the castle. It was very bizarre.
“This might not have been a good idea,” he muttered to himself. “Something's watching me. I can feel it.”
Today he had opted to only arm himself with a regular sword. His weapon of choice, because of his size and strength, was a two-handed blade that he would wear across his back. But because he was staying around the castle and didn't anticipate going into battle, Malcolm hadn't chosen that bulky weapon.
“Hell, I didn't even bring a shield with me,” he said softly. “How stupid is that?”
He stopped and looked up at the towering wall beside him. The dark gray stone stretched up and up until it disappeared into a fuzzy cloud of fog over his head. The mist was so oppressive that it felt like he was wrapped inside of the cocoon of a monstrous spider.
Get a grip, man, Malcolm told himself. It's just fog. It's probably already fading to the south of the castle around the front gate. Don't let your imagination run away with you.
He pulled off one of his gauntlets and put his hand against the castle wall. The smooth stone was cool and damp to the touch and he shivered at the sensation.
Built by elementals, he thought as he put the glove back on. We have Simon to thank for this magnificent building. He was the one who rebuilt the place almost from the ground up when it was destroyed by dragons years ago. The new Nottinghill was bigger and stronger than the original castle and, with any luck, would last for centuries.
“Yeah, we'll see about that,” Malcolm whispered as he gave the wall a final pat and began to walk beside it again. “Who knows what the dark gods will send against us in the years to come.”
The ground under his boots was covered with leaves, dead branches and thin grass. With the dampness in the air, the surface was slick and Malcolm walked much more slowly than he normally would.
He was about halfway along the back side of the castle when he came across the narrow rear gate. He stopped again and examined it.
Forged from thick iron, the gate, which was really just a narrow door no more than six feet high and three feet across, was never used. It had been created for one purpose only; as an emergency exit to use in case the castle was overrun by enemies. Malcolm had never seen it open, but he knew that it was at least six inches thick and secured with strong steel bars.
There were thin streaks of rust across the gate's surface and Malcolm made a mental note to mention that to Tamara. It wouldn't do to allow the gate to weaken from neglect.
A whisper of wind caressed his cheek and he turned around and frowned at the thick fog. Was it breaking up finally?
It looked as solid as ever, but he stared at it suspiciously. There was something not quite right...
An enormous blast of air smashed into Malcolm and slammed him back into the rear gate. He hit it so hard that the iron rang like a bell. Malcolm's head smacked into the door and his vision darkened for a moment. Little flashes of light burst behind his eyelids like fireworks and he fell to his hands and knees and fought to stay conscious. The only thing that saved him from splitting his skull open were his thick braids.
He pushed them back and, gritting his teeth, forced himself to stand. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but he ignored the pain and looked around blearily. What had just happened?
Malcolm gaped at the line of trees that marked the edge of the northern forest. It was only about fifty feet away from the castle's back wall, but the forest had been completely hidden by the fog until just a moment ago. Whatever had caused that powerful gust of wind had instantly blown away the mist and now he could see the entire length of the field between himself and the deep woods.
“I don't get it,” he muttered as he rubbed his head carefully. “What could have done that? It was just...”
A flash of white appeared for an instant in the gloom beneath the trees and then disappeared just as quickly. Malcolm stared at the shadows suspiciously as he tried to see what had caused the strange flash, but now that the fog had dissipated and the sun shone down brightly, he couldn't make out any details under the trees.
Telling himself that it was probably a bad idea, Malcolm loosened his sword in its sheath and began to walk directly toward the forest. He had to know what was going on.
After traveling south for about two hours, Aiden and his guardsmen were relieved to see the fog lift around them. As it did so, they tried to get their bearings from the position of the sun, which had passed from noon already and was beaming down warmly on them from a clear blue sky.
“Um, sir?” Tom said from behind Aiden. “Shouldn't the sun be on our right side if we're supposed to be heading south?”
The bright orb was hanging in the sky directly in front of the group.
Aiden looked up and stopped so quickly that Tom almost fell over trying to avoid walking into him. Aiden started blistering the air with curses and the others looked at each other with wide-eyed expressions of admiration.
“Wow, sir,” Sharon spoke up. “I had no idea that you even knew those words.”
“I only pull them out on special occasions,” Aiden growled in frustration.
He stared upward for a second and then turned in a slow circle, looking at the land around them.
The group was standing knee-deep in tall grass in the middle of a narrow field. Trees surrounded them on all sides and, now that the fog had lifted, birds filled the air with their merry songs.
Aiden narrowed his eyes and looked at the thick forest suspiciously. Unlike the old days before magic, the woods here might look safe but they weren't. Monsters of every size and description stalked the forests of the world now and you never knew when you might stumble across one of them.
“Now, where the hell are we?” he continued. “And how long have we been marching west?”
He'd made the mistake of following a narrow game trail, thinking that it led southward. And initially it might have, but in the fog the trail had probably swung gently to the west without Aiden even noticing.
He looked at his people.
“I'm sorry, folks,” he said with a shake of his head. “This is on me. I was sure that we were moving in the right direction, but I lost my bearings in the fog and now...” Aiden shrugged. “Now I have absolutely no idea how far we've strayed from where we should be.”
“Can you get us back home, sir?” one of the men, Miguel, asked anxiously.
Aiden smiled at him reassuringly.
“Always. Not to worry. Now that we can see the sun, we'll just turn around and head directly north. Once we find some high ground, we'll be able to scan the countryside. Nottinghill isn't hard to spot, even from miles away.”
He decided to give the group a few minutes to sit down and rest and drink some water before setting out again. While they did, Aiden walked around the perimeter of the small clearing and watched and listened for any threats. On his second circuit, just as he was about to get everyone back on their feet, he stopped abruptly and cocked his head to the side.
“What is it, sir?” someone called out.
Aiden motioned for silence as he listened intently. Yes, there it was again. Someone had screamed.
“Get up, everyone,” he barked. “Someone's in trouble.”
The group leaped to their feet and hurried across the clearing toward him. Aiden waited for them to join him and then plunged into the forest toward the sounds of distress.
Malcolm reached the edge of the trees and peered into the gloom beneath them. His senses were on high alert. Some monsters were very clever and could lure people into their grasp using sound or light, and he had no intention of becoming something's dinner.
But there was nothing to be seen, nor were there any suspicious sounds. He was tempted to dismiss the flash that he'd seen as an optical illusion, but Malcolm trusted his senses enough to want to be sure. And so, with a deep breath and a quick glance back at the castle, he drew his sword and plunged into the trees.
The atmosphere immediately became oppressive. Almost all of the trees around the world had changed since the return of magic. They were taller, thicker and had larger leaves. There were times that Malcolm wondered if, one day, the planet would be entirely covered in forests. Certainly there weren't enough people left to stop that advance.
Well, we'll keep them away from Nottinghill, at least, he told himself. But if they want the rest of the New Earth, I suppose they can have it.
The air in the forest was cool and damp, and beads of water began to form on Malcolm's armor. He shook them off and focused on the task at hand. By his calculations, the flash of light had come from exactly where he was standing and he got down on one knee to examine the soggy ground.
The sweet, rich smell of mulch rose up as he ran his fingertips over the rotting leaves that covered the forest floor and the big man smiled with pleasure. He loved nature and the deep woods, no matter how dangerous it had become for humans to travel now.
But Malcolm's smile faded as he found no footprints or signs of disturbance. He stood up with a grunt and a jingle of metal and scowled at the shadows around him.
What the hell did I see, he asked himself.
A soft crooning sound made him turn quickly to the right and ready his blade. That was no bird.
Malcolm listened intently for a moment and finally recognized the sound. Someone was humming a tune.
Here? That's impossible, he thought. Maybe it's some new kind of monster?
He stalked toward the sound, walking as quietly as a warrior in full chain-mail armor could. He flinched at the crunch of dead leaves and the snap of small branches under his feet, but he could barely hear his own footfalls over the sounds of birdsong and the low moan of the wind.
Not to mention the continued musical humming. Malcolm could feel goosebumps rising along his arms at the uncanny noise. Whatever was causing it couldn't be natural. And anything that wasn't natural spelled danger in his mind.
I should have brought a shield, he berated himself. No matter what happens next, I'm dangerously exposed on my left side. That's just stupid and I should know better than that.
The more practical part of his mind told him to shut up and concentrate on the task at hand. The sound was getting closer and he had to stay focused.
Five minutes of slow movement brought Malcolm deeper into the forest until he met a tall barrier of young pine trees. He had to force his way through the dense branches and he growled as he was slapped repeatedly across the face by branches loaded with pine needles. He moved past them with his eyes tightly closed and, once he had passed through the barrier, he examined his surroundings and gasped in surprise.
He had stepped into a wide, circular clearing. The sun lit up this area so brightly, compared to the dark forest behind him, that Malcolm was blinded for an instant and had to squint through watery eyes to see anything. If he was facing some kind of monster, he was basically helpless.
But nothing happened. The humming sound was much louder here though and continued uninterrupted. Malcolm wiped his eyes on the leather fringe of his glove and looked around.
In the center of the clearing, sitting on an old tree stump surrounded by waving grasses and nodding flowers, was a woman. She was looking down at something that she was holding in her hands and didn't seem to notice Malcolm's sudden entrance into the meadow. Her continued humming was almost soothing, but seemed otherworldly at the same time.
Malcolm stood still and watched her in complete amazement. Who was she? What was she doing out here all alone?
He studied her quietly and, as he did so, a chill ran down his spine. This was no ordinary woman.
She had long chestnut-colored hair hanging down over her shoulders and she was wearing a supple leather jacket and trousers that were light brown in color. If she had been standing in the shadows of the forest, Malcolm probably wouldn't have been able to see her.
Her features were difficult to make out because her hair fell down around them as she focused on whatever she was holding in her hands. But two things stood out for Malcolm. First was the fact that the woman had a quiver of arrows attached to her belt, and a long bow was leaning against the stump beside her. And the other thing that he noticed, and that made him catch his breath, were the woman's ears, which peeked out of her hair. They were very long and ended in points.
The woman was an elf.
Chapter 7
Aiden and his troop hurried through the trees toward the screams of distress that he had heard. They were trying to stay as quiet as they could because the cries were very faint and, to Aiden's confusion, seemed to keep moving away from them.
As they ducked around trees and underbrush, the shouting not only didn't get louder, but began to fade away.
“Damn it, what's going on?” Aiden exclaimed breathlessly as he trotted through the dense forest. “How can we be getting further away from them, whatever they are?”
The others didn't reply. Running in full chain-mail armor was difficult enough without trying to speak at the same time. Plus, the ground beneath the trees was slick with damp leaves and pine needles and they had to focus on their footing.
After about five minutes, Aiden held up his arm and his people skidded to a stop. He listened anxiously, trying to hear the screams over the heavy panting of the guardsmen around him. But he couldn't hear them anymore and he sighed and shook his head.
“Gone,” Aiden said in disgust. “Whoever was yelling has either stopped or moved out of earshot. Damn it.”
“Where did the last sounds come from, sir?” Tom asked him.
Aiden waved vaguely ahead of them into the deep forest.
“That way, I think. It's hard to be sure. The trees distort sound. Hell, maybe I was just hearing things. Did anyone else hear the screams?”
The others all shook their heads and Tom smiled sympathetically at his commander.
“That doesn't mean that you were wrong, sir,” he said stoutly. “You were closer to the trees when you heard the cries than we were. Maybe we took a wrong turn?”
“God, I hope not,” Aiden replied. “If someone was in distress and I ran the wrong way, their fate, whatever it was, is on me.”
After waiting a few more minutes until everyone had caught their breaths, he looked up through the thick branches and got his bearings again.
“Well, let's go,” Aiden told the group. “The clock is ticking and I don't want us to be caught out here after dark.”
He led the way more carefully this time, making sure to keep the sun on his left so he knew that they were walking directly north. Aiden wanted to get the troop out of potential danger as quickly as possible, especially after those strange cries. He was beginning to think that some creature might have been using them to lure the patrol into its grasp. It was not a comforting thought.
“Sir!”
They had been walking steadily for about ten minutes when Aiden heard a call from behind him and stopped abruptly. He looked around curiously. Sharon was bringing up the rear of the patrol about a dozen yards
back and he saw her wave at him. The entire group stopped as well and stared at her.
“What is it?” Aiden asked as he walked back to where the woman stood waiting.
Sharon pushed back her chain-mail coif, revealing her damp, close-cropped black hair. She looked puzzled.
“Maybe you weren't hearing things, sir,” she said quietly as she scanned the trees. “I'm sure that I just heard someone shout...something. Now I'm not positive, and I know this sounds crazy, but I think I heard my name.”
Aiden looked at her closely.
“Your name? Seriously?”
The woman looked a bit embarrassed.
“I know that it sounds nuts, but yeah, I'm serious. I thought that I heard a man's voice yell my name. It sounded like...”
She hesitated and Aiden gave her an encouraging smile.
“Yes? It sounded like what?”
She lowered her voice even more.
“Well, I know that it's impossible, but it sounded like my brother, Jamie. But it couldn't be. He died years ago, not long after London fell to the dragons.”
Sharon looked frightened.
“Am I going crazy, sir?”
Aiden gripped her armored shoulder and gave her a reassuring shake.
“Just the opposite, actually. You may have just saved all of our lives.”
“Sir?”
Aiden spun around to look at the others.
“Defensive circle. Now! Draw your weapons. Archers to the center. Move it!”
The warriors' training kicked in automatically and the six of them changed their formation instantly. Sharon and Natalie readied their bows while the others settled their shields on their arms and drew their swords.
The Werewolves of Nottinghill Page 8