by Aldrea Alien
“I wasn’t talking to you,” she shot back. “And whilst you’re at it, no rubbing your own sticks together.”
The hound threw a rude gesture over his shoulder and slipped into the undergrowth.
Finding dry wood was somewhat of a challenge. Much of it was either green or partially buried. The little they did scrounge up was just enough to fit neatly under Dylan’s arm. They tucked their meagre haul at the base of a rock column easily spotted from several points in the brush and pressed deeper into the forest.
They never wandered far from each other, even though spreading out would’ve enabled them to cover the ground twice as fast. Whenever Dylan’s search had him drifting from the hound’s side, he always found Tracker suddenly right beside, ready to relieve Dylan of whatever he found.
The light beneath the canopy of leaves had gone grey by the time they returned to the rock.
Tracker cleared his throat as he dumped his small bundle of branches atop the pile of wood. “I think that is perhaps all we are going to find around here.” Altogether, it was big enough to need only one of them to carry them to camp.
“We could widen our search, just a little further.”
The hound scratched at his cheek. He frowned back at the way they’d come before turning his sights on the flickering light of the campfire, barely visible through the trees. “Truth be told, you are likely capable of igniting some of the wetter wood we came across. And I was actually hoping to get that time alone with you.”
Dylan added his last bundle of inch-thick twigs to the pile and straightened, brushing the hair from his face. “In the middle of the forest? Not sure I’m up for that yet.”
The hound grinned. “Yet?” he echoed. “Well, that certainly holds some promise, but this will be talking only, I swear.” Tracker sighed and rubbed at his neck. His expression suddenly seemed very uncertain. “You seemed rather upset last night. I wanted to apologise.”
“Is that all? Don’t worry about it.” Movement in the shadows at the hound’s back drew his eye. There for an instant, then gone. He squinted. Light twinkled through the bushes beyond. A pond perhaps? Had that shape been an animal or something a little more sinister? Perhaps they should return to camp and warn the others of a possible hostile presence.
“Dylan.” The drawling, breathy way the man spoke his name sent a tingle through his gut and had him returning his attention to the hound. Tracker stood as still as the surrounding trees, his lips parted and further words clearly eager for his tongue to speak them.
Dylan waited, but no sound came out. “Is something wrong?”
The hound smiled sheepishly. “Wrong? No, nothing is wrong. I just… I wanted to…” A laugh, small and watery, trickled through his lips. “It seems the words have rather escaped me for the moment. I had it all in my head a second ago, I am certain it will return soon.”
Again, the light caught Dylan’s eye. The way it moved didn’t look like sunlight hitting water. Fire. Bandits or simply more cautious travellers? “Speaking of returning, we should—”
“No.” Tracker grasped Dylan’s sleeve, halting him. “I have been meaning to talk with you about this for quite some time now and I do not believe we will get another chance to be this alone, so here it is…” The hound inhaled loudly and, in a hushed breath, blurted, “What are we?”
Shock rooted Dylan to the spot and clutched at his heart. He opened his mouth, speaking the first word that reached his tongue. “What?” Surely he’d heard wrong.
The man’s lips twisted, his nose wrinkled. “Come now. You are not that dense. Please, do not toy with me. Not on this.”
Terror grasped Dylan’s chest, sudden and unwarranted, pushing out through his lips in a heavy puff. He had heard right. “I…” Was this some sort of joke? Breathe. Surely the man would not jest about this.
“Shall I lead you then?” Tracker paced between him and the column of rock, taking four brisk strides before turning back. “You admit to losing interest in our dear warrior. You also claim to be perfectly fine with what we have. That is all well and good, but I have been wondering…”
Dylan folded his arms, suddenly chill. The back of his neck prickled. Every nerve in his body screamed that they were being watched by more than the wildlife. “Track—”
The man showed no sign of sensing the same presence. Tracker had halted and now stared up at him. “Where do we stand?”
Dread crept up on Dylan with just as much noise as he could make. He turned from the hound and wet his lips. That didn’t help, his whole mouth had gone dry. “Isn’t this just fun?” Dylan whispered, not quite daring to hope the hound had come to the same conclusion as he.
“That depends,” Tracker replied. “Is that all you want?”
“No,” he breathed. There was so much more he yearned for. He could almost understand why his friends in the tower used to risk falling in love.
Was that what he felt? Was this how it was meant to feel? A terrifying giddy flutter in his chest. Love. Dylan faced the man. “I want—”
Movement caught his eye, close enough for him to catch the whisper of leaves. There was something in the bush behind the hound. Something bigger than a mere bird. Some one. Watching.
Tracker arched a brow, his head tilted slightly. His gaze slid to one side as if he could see behind him without turning. His hand strayed down to where Dylan knew the man kept a throwing knife. The blade slid free of its secret sheath.
“Wait,” Dylan whispered, relieved when the word stalled the hound’s actions. Now was definitely not the time for the hound to do something foolish. Dylan stepped closer to the bushes, halting as Tracker grabbed his arm. “Let me check it out. They can’t hurt me.”
“Very well.” Tracker loosened his hold, albeit his grasp lingered. “But do not do anything reckless. We will need to finish our talk and—if I may be so bold?—discuss what we are to do about it, yes?”
He nodded. “I’ll call out if I need help.” As the hound tucked himself against the rocks, Dylan ventured towards where he’d last seen the figure. His shield shimmered around him with each step. It was a drain to let it be filmy enough near his legs to let the foliage through whilst keeping the top half strong, but he wasn’t about to risk being injured.
He reached the spot where the figure had been. Nothing. Searching the ground gave him little in the way of clues. They’d already traipsed over this area and if he’d been able to pick out footprints, he wasn’t sure if he would also be capable of distinguishing which ones belonged to who.
A relieved sigh ghosted through his lips. Dylan turned to pick his way back to the column of rock and Tracker’s side. Maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. The light, combined with the lack of decent sleep and their trek through the forest, could’ve conjured all sorts of apparitions.
He’d been so sure, though. Even Tracker had heard something.
“Dylan?”
He whirled at the familiar voice. “Ness?” It couldn’t be. Nothing could’ve survived what they’d found in the tower. Was he losing his mind, now?
A figure shuffled out of the shadows. It certainly looked like his old friend, if a little haggard and dishevelled. She smiled. “It’s you. It’s actually you. I saw you dancing in the village and…” Her voice trailed off. She frowned, then shook herself. “I thought it couldn’t be. Tricia said I must’ve been seeing things, that you couldn’t be this far east of the army camp, but… it’s you!”
Dylan could barely focus on the words. He blinked back tears, trying to take in everything. She was here. Actually here. He’d prayed with all his heart that some people had escaped the slaughter in the tower. Someone had answered. “You’re—” He pulled her into his arms, squeezing her slim figure against his chest. “You’re alive,” he whispered into her soft, brown hair.
Tiny fingers tugged at his robe. She pulled him down to her level with an amazing burst of strength. Her mouth collided with his, hard and hungry. Her arms wound around his neck, holding him fast
as she attempted to devour him. Those lips he had kissed countless times were just as soft and warm and…
Wrong. He gently untangled himself from her grip. Once, not even that long ago, he would’ve enjoyed this, but now? Something about her had changed since the last time they’d touched.
Nestria stared up at him, those big light brown eyes growing larger still with concern. “Dylan?”
He caressed her rosy cheeks. Everything about her seemed so familiar. Maybe it wasn’t her who had done the changing. “It’s good to see you,” he murmured.
Smiling, she nuzzled his fingers. “We all thought the worst when we heard of the attack on the border. What happened to you? Did you escape?” She felt along his neck. His skin tingled at her delicate touch. “Your collar… It’s gone. How?”
“I’ll explain later.” He looked about them. In the encroaching twilight, the flicker of a campfire was more pronounced. A handful of shadows stood nearby. More people from the tower? “Who made it out with you? Did…” He blinked, his brain catching up with his ears. “Did you say Tricia?” His guardian lived?
“Yes? She’s been helping with the children since you left. As for the others…” Nestria glanced over her shoulder. She grabbed his hand and ploughed through the undergrowth towards the fire. “There’s Sulin and Tillie. We managed to get out a handful of the children your guardian had with her and two of the other guardians. Both halves of the double H made it, too. There were a few more of us, some of the servants who’d been outside the walls, but we split up. They wanted to try their luck elsewhere and we…” She all but burst through the clearing. “You have to come with us.”
Dylan pulled himself free of her grip as they halted. “Come with you where? I—” He rubbed at his wrist, slowly becoming aware of the eyes upon him. “Children?” he mumbled, not sure he’d heard right. His gaze flicked to the tiny figures huddled on the far side of the fire.
“Well, fancy seeing you here,” said a lilting voice he used to hear most mornings.
Sulin. Laughter, sounding dangerously close to sobs, bubbled up his throat. Dylan whirled about and flung himself at the man, wrapping his arms around Sulin’s shoulders and squeezing tight. Tears pricked his eyes. Weeks of believing they’d all been slaughtered… His legs suddenly seemed far too weak to hold him. They were alive. “I thought you were all dead.”
“We almost were,” Sulin replied. In the light of the fire, the jagged line of a scar marked the alchemist’s cheek. Dylan couldn’t recall the man having it when he left. Had he gotten that little gift in the attack? It was a lighter shade of brown than the rest of his face. A few weeks old, then.
“How did you escape?” There was only one entrance through the tower’s outer walls and, with the Talfaltaners likely filling the gateway whilst storming through, his friends couldn’t have fled that way. “What happened?”
“It was terrible,” Nestria whispered. She snaked her way between them, clinging to Dylan’s robe. Her eyes widened. Tears flowed down her cheeks. “They came and… and…” She fought to continue, but the words disintegrated into sobs.
“We were in the gardens when the first wave struck,” Sulin said. “You know what they are like.”
He did. During the day, it was teeming with life. Alchemists pottered about with shards of infitialis, children learnt their way around the more dangerous talents whilst being watched over by their guardians, and there was always the occasional spellster who sought a bit of fresh air or, like Launtil, preferred to play with plants than magic.
“I do not know who they were,” his old roommate continued, “but they just strode in and slaughtered everyone in their path. No warning. No demands.”
Dylan had no trouble recalling the bodies they’d found strewn about the tower corridors. Guardian, servant, spellster… All equal in death. “They were Talfaltaners.”
Sulin nodded. “That would explain a great deal.”
“I tried to stop them!” Nestria wailed, clawing at Dylan’s robe like a mouser. “Then they came and—”
“They?” There had been others beside the Talfaltaners? Dylan grabbed her shoulders, holding her still to look her in the eye. “Slow down, Ness. Who are they?”
Nestria shook her head, seemingly too lost in recalling the past to hear him. Tears fell from her eyes in steady droplets. “I couldn’t defend against them.” She clutched his robe, dragging them together. “My shield. It didn’t work. It held back the first lot, but not the others. They’re monsters, Dylan. Demons. They poured out of the tower, dripping blood and just walked right through the shields.”
Hounds. Dylan released his hold on Nestria, barely registering her collapsing to the ground. It couldn’t be anything but. No one else had such abilities, not even spellsters. Hounds had attacked the tower. Why? Tracker said it was against their training, but…
What if there’d been new orders?
He straightened, a sudden prickling sensation starting up in his shoulder blades. Did Tracker know? Dylan didn’t want to believe the hound would wish him harm, but to go against a direct order… He shook his head. The man wouldn’t risk being ‘put down’ for disobeying.
His gaze slid to those sitting around the other side of the fire. They didn’t huddle quite so much now, enabling him to pick out individuals. Launtil sat near a child almost as big as she. His guardian crouched by several of the children, comforting them.
Dylan bit his lip. There weren’t as many familiar faces as he’d hoped. “Where’s Henrie?” No matter how hard he squinted, he didn’t see his friend. “Ness said—”
“He made it out,” Sulin blurted. “Last we saw of them, he and Harriet were on their way to Udynea. We tried to warn him it is a dangerous place for an elf. But…” The alchemist shook his head. “He would not listen to reason.”
He wouldn’t. Risk or no risk, if anyone knew of a way for Henrie to permanently alter his body with magic, to have his outside match the inner, then they were likely to be in Udynea. “Where are all of you headed?” Maybe he could join them. Protect them, if necessary.
“Dvärghem,” Sulin replied. “I hear they use spellsters to test any unknown recipes they un—”
“If your goal is the dwarven lands, dear man,” Tracker said, “then you are going the wrong way.”
Hurried movement came from the other side of the fire. The flicker of a shield being thrown over them all glowed in the waning light. The flames of the campfire flared. Whimpers and hushed sobs broke the silence.
The hound halted on Dylan’s right, studiously ignoring the cowering children on the other side. “Sorry to interrupt you, but Dvärghem is to the north. If you continue your path of following the river, you will only wind up going east.”
“East. North.” Sulin shrugged. “It does not matter so long as we are nowhere near your kind.”
The hound smiled brightly. “Then north would definitely be a far better direction to take, my dear man.”
Nestria’s eyes narrowed. “You,” she snarled, her malice crackling through the air. “You’re one of them.”
Tracker’s lips stretched into a waxy curve as his gaze settled on Nestria. “You must be one of Dylan’s close friends, or so I assume from the way you greeted him. And you escaped the tower.”
Dylan frowned. The man’s last statement carried too much of a question for his liking. Tracker didn’t seem quite as surprised to see these people here as Dylan would expect from a hound. “How long have you been standing there?” he demanded of Tracker.
The hound’s smile fell. “Long enough.”
A bit ambiguous. Clearly, the man had been following close enough to witness Nestria kiss him. Had the man also hung back in the undergrowth whilst Sulin and Nestria filled in the details of the attack on the tower? Perhaps he didn’t wish to reveal he’d been eavesdropping for so long. “The hounds attacked the tower.” Dylan glanced at Tracker, gauging his reaction to the news.
Tracker’s brow twitched, but he didn’t seem at all shocked. �
�Did they?” he murmured. “Then it must have been at someone’s command.”
“That’s who I saw you with?” Nestria’s glare had switched to Dylan and he flinched at the raw anger burning in her eyes. “One of them?”
“You saw?” Dylan mumbled, trying to link her statement to their current topic. “When?”
She pawed at him, her nails scraping along his clothes. “In Riverton. We were getting all the supplies we could afford from the tent merchants and you… I saw you dancing with the villagers and letting that… thing—” She thrust one finger at Tracker, who sneered ever so slightly. “—snog you in front of everyone like some simpering maiden.”
Dylan opened his mouth to object, then shut it. What could he say that he hadn’t already?
“You don’t deny it?” Nestria screeched. “You’re not even going to try?”
He shook his head. Why would he dare such a thing? It was true. Every word. He’d danced with Tracker and let the man kiss him. And he’d enjoyed every second of it. He turned his gaze on Sulin.
His old roommate seemed to be handling things far better than his childhood friend. Whilst Sulin eyed Tracker warily, his fingers firmly wrapped around the hilt of his dagger, he didn’t appear as eager to slit the hound’s throat.
“We’re taking Dylan with us,” Nestria declared as she took several quick steps from Tracker, pulling Dylan alongside her with a brisk tug at his sleeve. “And you won’t follow us,” she snarled, raising her arm between them. Already, fire flickered in her palm. “I mean it. Don’t even take another step. I’m warning you.”
Tracker laughed, low and mirthlessly. “Warn me of what, dear woman? If you know what I am, then you must also know you cannot hurt me.”
Sulin lunged forward, the purple blade of his dagger flashing in the firelight. “But I can.”
The hound unsheathed one of his weapons in reply; the old alchemist’s dagger. There was no mistaking the sheen of infitialis metal. “You don’t want to play that game with me, alchemist,” Tracker hissed. “You will find I am far quicker than you. And I will not miss.”