“The rest of you, you’re outta here too!” he says, holding the door open.
The two other men stumble out.
The pubkeep closes the door and turns to us, looking sheepish. “I’m really sorry about those fellows. Always in here drunk and causing trouble. Let me get you another ginger beer, on the house.”
It’s a kind gesture. We pay him anyway, for the six drinks and the bowls of stew.
On our way back to the inn, we take the side streets and peer around every corner first.
We turn in early, and despite the flea-ridden, musty accommodations, I fall almost immediately into a deep, dreamless sleep unlike I’ve had for days.
It’s dark when a noise outside wakes me. I sit up and rub my eyes, disoriented from sleeping all afternoon and evening. Tui is standing by the window, watching something in the street. The moonlight coming through the clouds illuminates his face. It’s full of worry.
“What’s going on out there?” I whisper.
“I’m not sure. I don’t think it’s good, though.”
I carefully climb over Catriona, asleep beside me, and join Tui at the window. There is the sound of pounding on wooden doors, over and over; the jingling of decorated horses, the clomping of boots on wooden walkways. I peer down the road in the direction the racket is coming from.
A man steps into the street and the moonlight reflects on his golden sash. Even in the dark I can see the brilliant violet of his jacket. There’s only one thing he could be. Only one person he could work for.
“Tui, we’ve got to get out of here!” I choke out. I shake Catriona to wake her up.
“Wh—what is it?” she says groggily.
“Trouble. The worst. Hunters are here,” I tell her, throwing my things into my pack.
She jumps up, wide awake, goes over to the window, then immediately starts to pull on her boots. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know,” I answer, my voice shaky. “But clearly we need to leave. Now.” I tuck my knife in my belt.
“You mean, leave Blackpool?”
“Yes, let’s grab the horses and make a run for it.”
She stops packing then. “But we can’t. We barely have any food. It’s days and days until the next town.”
I pause for only a second. “Doesn’t matter. We can fish. When they get to the inn, the keeper will tell them about the three of us. I can’t hide—if there’s only the two of you in here they’ll know right away that I’m hiding. They’ll know I’m here.”
She looks at me skeptically. “And if the three of us are missing?”
“We’ll be ahead of them, at least.”
Catriona considers that for just a moment, then pulls on her coat.
“They’re still some way down the road. We’ve got a little time,” Tui reports from the window. “There’s a back door downstairs, but it’s right next to the innkeeper’s quarters I think.”
“No good. I don’t want them to know we’re leaving,” I say. I remember noticing a small window at the end of our corridor. “We’ll have to go out the window.”
“Let’s do it,” Tui says.
We sneak down the dark hallway. I look out the window and see the stables, where our horses are waiting. But the window is solid. It doesn’t open.
“Well, that didn’t work,” Catriona whispers. “Now what?”
Tui’s already walking in the other direction. “We’ll have to go downstairs, then. Come on.”
The three of us walk as lightly as we can down the stairs, but the floorboards are terribly squeaky. We cross the lobby and into the hallway that leads out back. Just as we pass the innkeeper’s door, it swings open.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the woman barks.
My mind goes blank for what seems like an eternity. Finally words form. “My apologies, for waking you, ma’am. We need to get going early. We’ve got a long way to go, and we slept all afternoon.”
“That’s all well and good,” she says. “But you’re forgettin’ something.” She’s got her hands on her hips, making herself look monstrous in the dark hallway. We look at her blankly, wondering, is this as far as we’re going to get? That a bawdy innkeeper is going to turn us in?
“You need to settle up. Twenty coins,” she grunts.
“Of course! I’m so sorry,” I say. I fish the coins out of a pocket in my pack and hand them over.
She cocks her head. The pounding is getting louder. Closer. “You’d best be off then, without delay. Good travels, best of luck to you.” She turns around and quietly closes the door behind her.
I only have a second to register that we were not getting turned in. In fact, the woman seemed eager for us to get safely away.
Outside, we dart across the yard to the stable, and saddle the three horses as fast as we can. We secure our packs, jump on, then are off at a gallop, leaving the stall gates swinging behind us. We weave through the dark side streets, in the hope we’ll remain unseen.
Once we reach the open road, we ride faster than ever before. We ride straight through the night, following the full moon in its arc across the sky, right into tomorrow.
When the sky lightens with the coming dawn, we finally slow the horses down. We’re out of the forest now, traveling across a great wide plain. When the trail splits in two, it finally feels safe to stop to get our bearings and rest.
I hop off Pearl to stretch my legs, and rummage through my food bag for whatever is left. There are a few soft apples and some dried meat. At least it’s something.
“Which way, Catriona?” I ask.
She pulls out the worn map from her bag and unfolds it. “That is the most direct route to the Bastion. There are more small towns ahead. The next one—here—is probably two days from where we are now. It’s the route I planned to take us on, easy and well traveled. But we must reach the pass soon, before the snows begin, otherwise it may be impossible to cross.”
“And that way?” I ask, pointing to the other trail. It’s only a faint line in the grass, clearly far less traveled.
“I’ve never taken that way. It meets up with the bypass route we spoke of earlier. Had we taken it, we’d have come to this very junction. Continuing on it is very difficult; there's no easy pass. We’d have to climb Mount Zenith—treacherous at any time of year. And the entire rest of the way to the Bastion is very rough. I don’t even know how far away the next town is, where we can resupply. Or if they are friendly or not,” she adds.
I look at the map she’s holding. This route is only roughed in, and there are many question marks indicating areas of uncertainty. Small towns are noted, but with no clear distances between them.
“Give me a few minutes,” I say. I walk away to think by myself. I need to clear my head. Fully consider each option. Clearly the easiest way is to keep going straight, directly for the Bastion, the port, and safety on the other side of the Sea of Nadir, far away from King Araroa’s influence. The other route is far less certain. But Hunters are closer than I ever thought they’d be at this point, and the direct route to the Bastion is likely to be crawling with them.
I walk back to Tui and Catriona. “We simply can’t travel the main route. They’ll be certain to find us. We’ve got to go that way.” I point to the thin trail veering off to the right, the one that seems to disappear into the grasses of the plain.
“Let’s get on, then,” Tui says, and he remounts Pango.
Catriona and I follow him into the unmapped horizon.
Chapter 8
We ride into dusk across the open plain. Just before dark, we enter a grove of low shrubby trees where it looks safe to make a fire.
Once the flames are going we huddle around it, eating the last of our stale provisions. Tomorrow we’ll have to start looking for food.
Tui sniffs the bruised apple in his hand then tosses the rotten fruit into the bushes. “I think we’re out of food,” he says.
I hand him a piece of dried meat. The last one. “You’re right. Chew slow
ly.” I smile, but I’m not at all happy about our food situation. Yet another reason to curse the King and his Hunters.
We do have several weeks’ supply of tea, though, thanks to Miss Lilith packing bags of the stuff. At least we can still enjoy what’s become our comforting evening tea ritual.
Catriona takes a sip of hers. “We should be able to find plenty of berries this time of year. Let’s have a look around in the morning.”
“I’ll be ready with my bow,” Tui says. “Looks like it’s time to use it.”
“Catriona, do you know if there’s a river ahead?” I ask.
“I believe so,” she replies. “There's a forest coming up, too. There should be more animals to hunt there. But the map of this area is so rough, I just can’t tell how much farther we need to go before we reach it. My best guess? Another couple of days from here.”
“Hopefully there will be fish running when we do reach it.” I’d carefully packed my fishing line, hooks, and a net I’d woven just for this. My mouth starts to water a little at the thought of a freshly caught, juicy fish cooking over our fire. But I’m trying not to get my hopes up.
When our tea is finished we tidy up and wrap ourselves in our bedrolls. The moon isn’t yet up, and it’s pitch dark except for a few glowing embers. The sound of wolves howling carries over the light wind. I shiver, and wrap myself more tightly in my woolen blanket. We aren’t the only hungry ones out here.
The next morning we do find berries, right next to our campsite. Small purple, juicy, sweet, gloryberries. They are perfectly ripe and we eat until we can’t eat any more.
We ride on, stopping several times to munch on more berries. By the time we reach a spot to camp that evening, we can’t stand the thought of another gloryberry.
But it’s gloryberries for breakfast too, along with the last of our coffee.
By noon, however, something worse than the thought of more berries comes along. My stomach starts to rumble. Not the hungry sort of rumble, but the kind where I start to wonder if I need to stop and dash into the bushes.
Shortly after, it hits Tui. He stops Pango, jumps down, and awkwardly runs behind a large tree. Catriona starts laughing and can’t seem to stop.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“What’s funny is that I’m right behind him,” she says. “And I bet you are too. I remember my mama telling me not to eat too many gloryberries when I was a girl.” She pauses for a second, then looks around quickly. “Yep, my turn.” She hops down from Hazel and runs toward some large ferns off to the side of the trail.
I’m fine for now, even though my stomach continues to churn. I stay with the horses and keep a lookout, although it’s unlikely we’ll see anyone at all on this scarcely traveled route.
Everything is quiet, except for a faint groaning coming from the bushes now and again. A few minutes pass and Catriona comes racing out. There are leaves and twigs in her hair, and her arms are full of green plants. “Look at this!” she says. “I think I found food!”
I jump down from Pearl’s back to more closely examine her find. Among the stems and leaves I can see some sort of small, round root vegetable.
Tui reappears from behind his tree and comes over to see what we’re looking at. “Ah! Those are wild potatoes,” he says. “We’ll need to roast them, but I’ve had them before. They are good. Any more?”
“Plenty. Follow me,” Catriona says. She puts down her armload and we follow her back through the ferns. We dig through the thick moss, gathering up as many potatoes as we can. Our saddlebags are filled to the brim. There won’t be much variety, but at least our bellies will be full tonight.
We stop to build our fire well before dusk. When the coals are ready, we bury the potatoes underneath and let them roast for an hour. They are crusty black balls when we pull them out, but peeling off the skin reveals a creamy, almost buttery inside. After they cool a little, we don’t even stop to find our spoons, scooping out the sweet flesh with our fingers. I must eat at least ten before I finally feel full.
The next morning, it’s cold potatoes with a handful of gloryberries. For lunch, cold potatoes with a handful of gloryberries. This could get boring, but at least it’s enough to keep us going.
As we ride through the day, the trees grow larger until we're deep into a forest, thick with ferns. Tui keeps his bow ready, but we’ve seen nothing in the way of animals. I try not to think about how good a juicy, roasted hunk of meat would taste.
When I hear the sound of running water late that afternoon, I wonder if I’m dreaming. But as the sound gets louder and louder, I know it’s true: we’ve reached the river. We urge the horses into a run and dash through the trees. As we come upon the roaring green water, I realize how incredibly thirsty I am—the small amount of water we have left from Blackpool is stale and full of silt. I stop Pearl at the edge of the river so she can drink too, and then scoop up handfuls of the fresh, cold water, taking great gulps.
After drinking my fill, I rummage through my packs for my line, hooks and net.
I can see the fish jumping. I tie on a hook, put on my leather gloves, and cast the line into the current. Only seconds later there's a solid tug, and I slowly pull the line in. It’s a struggle. The fish is large and powerful. I can’t believe I’ve already got a bite, and from the feel of it, a very good meal.
BAM!
The line snaps. I watch in disbelief as the fish swims away.
“Dammit,” I curse under my breath.
“Want some help?” Tui says cautiously. He’s been behind me, watching silently up to now.
I sigh. I know I can do this on my own, but I want to smell a fish roasting so badly. I hand him the net. “Sure. Here, take this. When I get one, try to catch the fish so it doesn’t get away.”
“I know what to do. This was always my job, remember?”
I do remember. When we were younger, I would always cast the line and Tui would throw the net. We were a good team. But eventually I learned to fish by myself, and was always proud to bring one in on my own. It’s been a few years since I’ve had Tui’s help.
I tie another hook onto my line, recast, and slowly reel it in. Nothing. I recast, throwing it as far as I can. This time, there's a powerful tug. “Got one!” I scream out. Tui wades into the water, waist-deep, toward the thrashing fish. He deftly tosses the net over the fish, then cinches the net tight.
Tui holds the protesting creature up high. “Dinner is served!” he calls out gleefully.
Catriona’s standing on the riverbank, watching. She cheers and claps her hands. “That’s not dinner!” she calls out. “It’s a feast!”
Hours later, a few glowing embers are all that remain of our fire. Moonbeams pierce our small clearing amongst the trees, highlighting my friends’ peacefully sleeping faces. My belly is warm and full. The three of us are curled toward the heat of our fire. The nights are getting much colder as we enter autumn. But we are warm in our small huddle. And safe. For the moment.
I smile at the sound of Tui’s quiet snore, and wish that sleep would grace me with her presence too. I watch our smoldering fire, entranced by the changing colors: red, yellow, blue, orange, white. Normally I’d be fighting to keep my eyelids open with the late hour and heat. But I’m feeling just the opposite. Wide awake, unable to shake the feeling of being on edge. It makes little sense. We must be miles from the Hunters. Even so, every cell of my body is on alert. I sit up, listening intently to the night sounds around me. The quiet gurgle of the nearby river. The hoot of an owl far in the distance. I don’t know why, but I sense something out of place.
But so far, nothing. I jump as an owl passes high overhead, its silhouette lit by moonbeams. My ear twitches at the whoosh of enormous wings in flight. The owl lands its huge body gracefully atop a tree branch on the other side of the clearing. There’s another sound in the opposite direction. I listen closely, but it’s only the chirp of a cricket.
Maybe it’s the unusual stillness making me uneasy. There’s
not a breath of wind to rustle the leaves, no small animal sounds in the underbrush. I look over at our horses, silent on their tethers, asleep. I strain my senses, sure I’ll pick up something to explain my unease. Still nothing out of place. I return to the ground, checking my knife is securely in my belt. I lay on my back with my arms folded beneath my head, leaving both my ears exposed to pick up anything unusual.
Another hour passes. Maybe two? But my thoughts are probably the loudest things around. Finally I drift into a light, dreamless sleep.
It feels like seconds later that I’m jolted awake by an unexpected sound from far away. I leap up, as alert as if I’d been asleep for hours. I listen, moving my head in different directions, to try and pick up the sound again.
Another few minutes pass. Nothing. Did I imagine it? Maybe it was just a mouse, scurrying in the undergrowth. Something catches my eye, but it’s only a glowmoth fluttering by. I realize that if the sound did carry toward me again, I’d never hear it over my pounding heart. I take a few deep breaths to calm myself.
When the pounding finally slows, I strain my ears for several more moments, continually turning my head. The forest around me is even more still than before, when I was trying to fall asleep. Impossibly quiet. I hold my breath in an attempt to pick up anything at all. Nothing.
I’m about to go back to my bedroll when I hear it. The jingle of a bell, coming from at least a mile away.
I’m off like an arrow in the direction of the sound, my bare feet flying over the ground. The light of the moon is strong enough for me to see the way ahead. I go back along the trail, running as fast and as silently as I can. There’s only the quiet brushing of the ferns against my coat as I fly by them. It takes me only minutes to cover the half-mile to a tree I remember seeing—a tree with wide leafy branches, perfect for climbing. I scurry up it and rest, listening. Waiting for the bell’s owner.
My breathing slows to its normal pace, anxiety fading now I know there's a reason for it. I listen to the sound growing slowly but steadily closer, each chime slightly louder than the last, as whatever it is comes directly toward my tree.
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