by C S Vass
They continued up a hill towards the castle. The trees thinned out and dispersed. Yaura was surprised to see that they were walking past scores of armed men, standing about at attention. That wasn’t right.
“Who…who are they?” Yaura asked slowly. “What are they doing here?”
“They aren’t Shigata,” Robert said. “They don’t have those thingys. The watcha-callums.”
“Um, yeah,” Yaura said. She was also struggling to recall the word for that nifty little silver thing she carried.
“Never you mind them,” Torin said pleasantly. “True they have no thrygtas, but they are friends. They came here to help defend Unduyo.”
“Huh,” Yaura said, then yawned loudly. “Good. The more the merrier.” She couldn’t help but think as they walked past that these soldiers didn’t necessarily look like friends. Their eyes were narrowed in anger, and their fingers were wrapped tightly around their spears. But if Torin said so, that was good enough for her.
This isn’t right, a small voice in the back of her head said. They aren’t supposed to be here. Beware.
The little voice pained Yaura. It was as if she were dreaming happily after days of exhaustion, and the voice was trying to pull her out of her comfortable sleep and into the waking world.
Danger, Yaura. Beware the danger that awaits you in Unduyo. You’re walking right into the trap. You mistake the spider for the friendly honeybee.
“I could eat some of that honey bread,” Yaura said. Robert agreed.
The main gate leading into the castle had collapsed. As they walked over the wreckage, Yaura saw bloody arms and legs scattered amongst the rubble. “I wouldn’t want to have to rebuild that,” she said. A white mist drifted through the air. Yaura breathed in the damp air. The cold snapped some of her senses back to a state or alertness.
The men in black cloaks were all around them. They saluted Torin as he walked by.
“Where are all the other Shigata?” Yaura asked. “Where is Godwin?”
“I had been hoping you would be able to tell me that,” Torin said. “However, we’re just going to have to make due by ourselves until some more of our friends can be round up.”
“Round up?” Yaura asked, frowning.
Torin turned, and locked eyes with her. “A simple figure of speech,” he said pleasantly. “You’re thinking too hard, Yaura. You should let yourself relax.”
Instantly Yaura felt as though she had slipped into hot bathwater. Her muscles relaxed and a pleasurable rush spread throughout her body. She felt very safe.
“This seems like a total disaster,” Robert said.
“What do you mean?” Torin said sharply. “We repelled the enemy and saved our castle. What else could we have hoped for?”
Robert’s question greatly troubled Yaura. Yes…it did seem bad. Didn’t it? Torin didn’t seem to think so? But what did she think? Why couldn’t she think?
“I think it’s time you went off on your own,” Torin said to Robert. “Don’t worry, we’ll come for you soon.”
Before either of them could respond Torin whistled and one of the men in black seized Robert roughly by the arm.
“Hey,” Robert said sleepily as the soldier removed his swords. “Those are mine.”
“You won’t need them tonight,” Torin assured him. “You’re in good hands. Now do what the men say and we’ll get all of this sorted out quickly.”
“Torin,” Yaura said. “What’s going on? What’s happening here? Where is Godwin?” Her voice became more panicked. Suddenly, with a horrific sinking sensation, she realized that the feeling she had was like being drunk. Why hadn’t she realized that? She hadn’t had anything to drink. What was going on?
She backed away from Torin quickly and felt hands seize her arms from either side.
“Yaura,” Torin said gently. “You’re panicking. We don’t want you to trip and fall again. Come. Our friends are waiting for you.”
“Torin!” she pleaded. “Will you just answer me.” Torin smiled again, and again Yaura immediately felt soothed by his presence.
“Which friends?” she asked calmly.
“The Sages of course. They’ve been wanting to speak with you for a long time now. It was very good of you to come back. I’ll take you to them.”
Torin guided her carefully across the destroyed remains of the inner bailey. She barely noticed the dead and dying bodies that surrounded it. Many were friends of hers. She recognized none of them.
As Torin led her inside the inner keep, the Serpent watched from above, its bright blue eye glowing like a candle in the heavens.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
“The Serpent was out last night. An ill omen. I’m glad to see the dawn.”
Pale pink sunlight spilled across the sky overseeing the Shield. Faela couldn’t help but agree with Brett. It had been a terrible night. They had been too anxious to sleep, and too tired and injured to go anywhere.
Paetrick had lived through the night, but he moaned and shivered like a newborn in the midst of winter without a blanket.
“Are you sure about the direction we’re heading in?” Faela asked, trying not to let on how frightened she was. Since the attack the previous night she had tried continuously to reach for her fire in case she should need it again, but there was nothing. What if she was broken beyond repair? What if her fire would never come back to her?
“I am,” Brett said as he tried and failed to hide the annoyance in his voice. Faela couldn’t blame him. She had already asked him that twice. “There is an abandoned outpost opposite to Meno. We will have to briefly sail, but it will save us the longer journey to find a ship in Frost. I think it’s worth it now that we know what dangers are waiting for us on the ice.”
“Will we make it before nightfall?” Faela asked.
Brett frowned, but did not answer. They all increased their pace.
The pony for Paetrick was a true godsend. He never would have been able to walk, and Faela and Brett would have been forced to construct some way to carry him. The beast was stronger than it appeared and dutifully shuffled along, perhaps out of gratitude for the fate it had been spared by being allowed to leave the ogres.
“I’ll say it again to be certain you’ve all heard me,” Brett said soberly. “Under no circumstances are we to breathe a word of the source of Paetrick’s injuries to anyone. We were attacked by a snow bear, and I’ll cut the tongue out of anyone who says otherwise.”
Faela knew what Brett suggested was necessary, but all the same his words made her stomach tighten even further into a knot of worry. Was it wise to bring Paetrick to the Shigata after such an incident? Would they recognize the wound? And if they did, what would they do about it? Surely Brett would be able to command some respect amongst them. Wouldn’t he?
“If I’m a werewolf, you’ll have to kill me,” Paetrick said in the same tired voice he had said the same words in fifty times.
“I may just have to kill you if you keep repeating that nonsense,” Brett snarled. “Now shut up with that and try not to die. I’m not dragging you across the bloody Shield so that some ignorant peasant can try to slit your throat.”
“Being a werewolf is no longer the death sentence it used to be,” Faela said more kindly. “If you are one, which is far from certain. The University has all sorts of strange runes and potions that they use to try and help people.”
Brett snorted. “You’ll more likely than not set the boy’s insides on fire experimenting on him like some kind of lab rat. There’s nothing wrong with the old fashioned cure my grandfather used on his village werewolf. Some silver chains to tie you hand and foot to the floor of an unused building. You can even make a fortune allowing people to view it charging a copper a head. Maybe even a gold a head, depending on what city you’re in.”
“Shut up,” Faela snapped, seeing Paetrick’s horrified expression. “You’re not helping.”
“Nothing wrong with making some honest coin out of a bad situation,” Brett said sim
ply.
The Shield was becoming completely unbearable to Faela. They had been out of doors for so many nights that it had been long since she had lost count. She wished for a warm mattress stuffed with goose feathers and bowl of something hot. And wine. She would kill for some hot mulled wine, heavily spiced with oranges stuffed with cloves and all other manner of wonderful tasting—
“I know of a wood’s witch outside of Iryllium,” Brett interjected, tearing Faela from her thoughts. “Unofficially, of course. We allow her to stay so that when some nobleman’s daughter suddenly swells in the belly nobody has to have any awkward conversations, but she’s also said to deal in such things as this.”
“Oh, shove your woods witch up your arse,” Paetrick moaned as he slumped in his seat. Brett shot Faela an offended look. Faela rolled her eyes and checked to make sure he wasn’t about to fall out. He wasn’t, but that didn’t change the fact that his condition was terrible.
The day wore on and nothing changed. They saw no signs of an outpost. Only the endless stream of blue that was Ice Bay. Faela hated traveling so close to the strange waters. There were tales of so many horrible demons that lived in them. They were said to grow angry in the winter months when travel slowed and meals became sparse.
“We have to rest,” Brett said as the sun dipped nearer to the horizon.
“No!” Faela protested. “We have to be getting close. We can make it across the waters before nightfall! We have to!”
Brett huffed and gestured at Paetrick. The monk’s head was rolling on his shoulders as his eyes were rolling in his head. “He won’t last in the saddle another ten minutes,” Brett said. “I don’t like it either, but we’re not making it across the waters before dark. There’s no sense in crossing over to Black Wolf once that happens. We’ll be killed for sure. “Better to rest while we can. If he’s up to it, we can continue traveling after dark and hopefully make it to the outpost so as to get some shelter for the night.”
Faela was filled with a sense of dread at the prospect of spending another night out in the Shield, but she saw the logic behind Brett’s words. It really would be a death sentence to cross Ice Bay at night in a small boat with three injured people.
“I wish the ogres would have stayed with us,” Paetrick said quietly. “They knew how to handle those damn werewolves.”
“They certainly did,” Brett agreed. “It sounded like they had a true grievance with the Lord of Valencia. Anyone dumb enough to spit on those hands will rue the moment they first salivated. You can be sure of that.”
“Valencia sounds like a horrible place,” Faela shivered as she helped Paetrick get down from his pony. The monk’s feeble body slipped off and nearly collapsed in a pile of snow. “Brett, we’re going to need some of your runes.”
“Gods, I had nearly forgotten,” Brett said. “I am sorely tempted to risk a fire.”
“What?” Faela said. “No way! Not after last night. We’ll be killed for sure.”
“Maybe,” Brett said. “You’re probably right.”
“Probably,” Faela snapped. “You’re the one who was so against a fire in the first place. How could you possibly be going back on that now?”
“I’m just wondering,” Brett said. “Would it help you? If you saw a real fire, gazed into it, maybe even touched it, would that somehow help get your fire back?”
Faela bit her lip. Perhaps…but it was too risky. Fire was how they were discovered the last time. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. I don’t think it’s worth it.”
Brett nodded. “I’ll default to your opinion. Runes it is.” Soberly, Brett began to trace the symbols in the snow.
“Too bad we don’t have so much as a deck of Tanzen,” Paetrick said. “I could really use something to take my mind off all of this.”
“Nothing like a sunset to clear your head,” Brett said.
“Nothing like a sunset in the Shield to make you fear for your life,” Paetrick replied.
“There’s still time before the sun goes down,” Faela said, optimistically. “We can sit here for a while and see how we feel. Maybe we can journey on before it’s too late. The outpost has to be close, doesn’t it?”
Brett shrugged. “I’d be surprised if we made it, Faela. It could be close. It’s been many years since I’ve seen it. It might not even exist anymore. Who’s to say a winter storm hasn’t destroyed it?”
“Might not even exist?” Faela asked, horrified. “Then what are we supposed to do?”
“What we’ve been doing,” Brett said with a shrug. “Continue along the path until we reach the frozen strait and walk to Meno. It will take a few more nights. I plan to survive them.”
“I should hope so,” Faela shouted. “What of your rune magic? Do you have anything that might shield us? Some spellwork that could make us less visible to threatening eyes?”
“I’m sorry, Faela,” Brett said. The soldier closed his eyes. “I have done everything that I can. I’m injured, and I’m very tired. Let’s rest for just a short while. We’ll go when we feel up to it.”
Faela nodded.
A vicious howl sent her heart pounding in her throat.
“Oh fucking hell,” Brett moaned.
“We won’t live through another fight,” Faela said, panicking. “Not unless you’re aware of another group of ogres wandering through these parts.”
“Not likely,” Brett said rising to his feet. “Come on. The howl was a way’s away. Perhaps it was just a normal wolf. Perhaps we can outpace it and make it across Ice Bay. Perhaps some woodland steer will distract it and be its dinner instead of us. But we have to try.”
* * *
It took precious minutes to get Paetrick on the pony again. The monk tried to put on a brave face, but he moaned and wobbled the entire time they set him upright.
The pony was weary too. It whined and kicked when it realized what they were trying to do, but dutifully gave in to the will of its new masters that spared it from becoming breakfast for ogres. “This can’t be happening,” Paetrick groaned. “This can’t be happening. Gods of ice, gods of shadow, please, shield us from these demons.”
“I hate to kick your religion in the nuts my friend,” Brett said angrily. “But if the gods of ice and shadow were interested in saving our sorry arses, then they probably would have done so the first time.”
Paetrick was too tired to respond. Faela quickly checked his wound before they set out. There was no time to remove the bandages or reapply some of the ointment that the ogres left with them, so she merely sniffed at it. Nothing seemed foul-smelling or poisonous.
“Come now, this is the last time. We make a mad dash for the outpost and we put the bloody Shield behind us once and for all.”
“Yeah, fuck the Shield,” Brett said turning as he spit. “Frozen piss land is no different than the Chillway.”
They ran like their lives depended on it. Faela’s feet were so sore that she felt like her ankles would snap with every step. Blisters had formed, popped, and reformed so many times that the insides of her boots were a bloody mess.
“Leave me if you have to,” Paetrick said to them. “Perhaps I’m one of them, and they will take me in. There’s no sense in you two getting killed for me.”
Brett looked utterly horrified. “And be indebted to a bunch of fucking ogres for nothing? I don’t think so, boy. You’ll live, even if it kills you.”
They ran on and on. The sun sank lower and they heard no more howling. Until they did. The second appeared to be closer, perhaps just over the hills behind them.
“They can’t really be out in daylight, can they?” Faela asked between breaths. They weren’t going at a full on sprint, but the pony was trotting quickly, and it was a great struggle for Faela and Brett to keep up even after abandoning most of their supplies within the rune circle.
“If you’re ever uncertain, look at the truth that’s right in front of your face,” Brett said. “That’s something my old man used to say. Regardless, we don’t have
much more sunlight.”
He wasn’t wrong, Faela realized. The sun was a great bloody jewel, sinking beyond the frozen waste of Ice Bay. They would have to hurry if they had any prayer of reaching the abandoned outpost.
“Oh fuck,” Brett moaned.
“What?”
“Don’t look, just run,”
Faela looked.
In the distant snowy hills three hulking figures ran across the land. Panic welled in her chest once more. She reached inside for her fire, and was too exhausted to endure even a moment of the pain.
“We should leave the pony,” Brett said at once. Immediately the beast snorted and kicked the air in protest, almost throwing Paetrick from his saddle in the process. “I’m sorry,” he pleaded. “But it’s you or us. Most likely you and us in any case.”
“No,” Faela said. She was sympathetic to the beast but there was a more important reason why they couldn’t do that. “Paetrick is as good as dead if we take away his mount.”
“Leave me too,” Paetrick said. He straightened up and tried to put on a brave face, but his bottom lip was trembling like he was in the midst of a seizure. “I already said there’s no point.”
“Fuck off with that,” Brett said. “I already told you, I’m not getting indebted to a band of ogres for no reason.”
“We won’t let you stay behind,” Faela said firmly. “We started this journey together, and we’re ending it together. No matter what.”
The last rays of light finally died, and with them the last sense of hope that Faela had. This is truly the end, she realized. She felt more sad than scared. She was still young. There was much that she had hoped to do in this life before playing in the gardens beyond the sun. It seemed that fate had other intentions..
The pony collapsed.
They rode the beast too hard too fast. It was strong and dutiful, but it was also young and tired. As the moon rose its legs buckled and gave out, tossing Paetrick from his seat into the snow.
“Paetrick!” Faela shouted. She ran towards him. Another howl sent shivers down her spine.