Shadow

by Jenny Moss

  A spiritual place? That sounded like death to me. I was just discovering the depth of beauty of this Earth. I wanted to live in it, not beyond it.

  “Ete saw that early in her daughter,” said Kenway, shrugging, “although Malcolm doubts. He’s less of a Northerner than he’d like to admit.”

  Ingen was so quiet I forgot she was there for a time. But when I noticed her again, I turned to Sir Kenway, amazed he had let her come this far. “She must go back.”

  “She can’t, Shadow,” he said. “She’s coming with us.”

  I was speechless.

  He laughed. “Nothing to say?”

  “But—”

  “She comes with us.” He rode off in front of me, leaving me to stare after him. Ingen was the person Eldred sent us for? This young thing?

  I watched her riding through the trees. How could she be so carefree in the midst of all this death?

  A chill went through me. There was something in all of this, something dark and personal, something beyond my understanding. It unnerved me. What was all this about? And why was I here? It could only involve sacrifice, for no one valued me but me.

  My eyes drifted to Kenway.

  Eventually, the line of birch trees stopped at a wide marsh. It was like a great mud sea. A thick oak forest lay on the other side. To get there from where we were would be a trial.

  I said farewell to the silver trees, the ladies of the wood. I will leave my memories of Erce and those troubles here with you, I thought. I wondered if that was possible since we had one of her people still with us.

  The marsh was not easy riding, and the horses didn’t like it. Kenway said that a foot of shallow water had once stood in this muddy field. It had since dried up. Frogs and toads hopped all around us, and black snakes slithered along the ground, frightening my horse. Not a tree nor a bush, just mud and more mud. We finally made it out, much dirtier and wearier than when we’d started.

  This forest was darker, with thick underbrush and a narrow path. Soon the path disappeared.

  “I have lost the path, Ingen,” said Sir Kenway. “Which way?”

  She shrugged.

  “You don’t know?” he asked, an edge to his voice.

  “You’ve lost the path,” she said.

  He opened his mouth to reply, then snapped it shut.

  “I can see why you said she lives in a spiritual realm,” I said.

  He ignored me.

  Using a knife, he hacked away at some overgrown areas. We ducked under twisting vines. We got off our horses to lead them over long-fallen trees.

  By nightfall, we still had not found the path. The night was cold and getting colder. I huddled, chilled, under my wool blanket, as close to the fire as possible. Sir Kenway handed me a cup of hot wine. It scalded my lips, wonderfully sweet. He’d stolen it from the soldiers, I knew. Ingen took another cup from him and sat quietly, sipping.

  Kenway gave me a distracted smile. I peered at him over the rim of the cup. “You’re not worried about the smoke being seen?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “We’ve lost them or killed them, and we need the fire.”

  “Were those soldiers you killed also the ones following us, then?”

  He poked a long stick in the fire and played with the burning embers. “I don’t think so.”

  “You’re not sure?”

  He looked up at me. “I’m not. Eldred warned me we might be followed because Fyren wanted Ingen. But her father said the soldiers weren’t after her. They did not treat her differently.”

  I looked at Ingen, still trying to accept she was this valuable. She stared back, saying nothing.

  “So the men following us—” I began.

  “They are no longer tracking us,” said Kenway, “not since the caves.”

  “But it makes no sense,” I said, closing my eyes. I was so tired. “If…Fyren already knew of the town, why send spies after us?”

  “I can’t figure it out, either,” he said.

  We both looked at Ingen. “Fyren didn’t know where I was,” she said.

  “He did know,” I said, but halfheartedly. I did not want to talk anymore. I wanted to sleep.

  “He did not,” she said calmly.

  “But he asked Eldred, the queen’s adviser at the castle—”

  “I know who Eldred is,” she said.

  Kenway looked as baffled as I. “Ingen,” he said, “why does Fyren want you? Eldred did not tell me. There was little time.”

  She leaned closer to the fire, her young face glowing. “I’m the connection to Erce.” A chill ran down my spine. She’d said it with such fervor.

  “Erce,” Kenway repeated, not hiding his skepticism. “Your small village?”

  “You have a narrow view of things,” she said. “I’ve no patience for your stubbornness.”

  This amused me. If I were not so weary, I would have laughed.

  “What?” Kenway asked me.

  I shook my head, wanting to fall into the quiet of the forest. The flames were enticing, especially after such a long night and day. I watched the flickering as I thought about what Ingen said. I should feel relief. The more I learned, the more Eldred’s plans seemed to have little to do with me.

  The medallion I’d taken felt heavy in my skirt. I would have taken it out, but I didn’t want Sir Kenway to know I had stolen it. Fumbling for it in my pocket, I tried to trace its ridges, but my fingers brushed against a roughness on the metal. Dried blood, I knew.

  A pain suddenly pierced my heart, as if I were a mother whose baby had been ripped from her breast. I released the medallion. Holding my stomach, I stood up, stumbling away from the fire.

  “What ails you?” asked Kenway.

  Ingen stood.

  “Nothing, I…just want a handkerchief.” I went over to the saddlebags, thrown against a tree.

  “You’ll freeze,” Kenway said in a weary voice. “Come back to the fire.”

  With the white cloth in my hand, I scooped the medallion out of my pocket, not wanting to touch it again. I breathed easier when it was in my saddlebag, where it would remain. I should have left it in the village.

  “I cannot protect you from harm if I cannot see you. And I cannot take you to Kendra if you are dead. Come, Shadow. I fear these woods aren’t safe.”

  “Kendra?” I asked, coming back to him. Ingen watched me openly. “Who is Kendra?”

  “A woman who lives in the mountains.”

  My pulse raced. “But who is she?”

  He shrugged. Ingen smiled at me.

  “What does she want with me?” I asked.

  “I don’t know.” He smiled.

  “That is all you will tell me?”

  “That’s all I know.”

  “You enjoy teasing me,” I said.

  “I do,” he said with a gentle smile. “But truly, I do not know.”

  Kendra.

  I lay down and listened to the fire.

  If we had not been so tired, we might have heard them coming.

  Chapter Twenty

  Sir Kenway was shouting. His sword was out. He stood in front of me and Ingen, as if to protect us. I jumped up, my blankets falling to the ground. It was barely dawn.

  Two men faced us. One had a sword. The other, an axe.

  They were dressed in the skins of wild animals. Heavy beards hid their features. All I saw was wild hair and shiny blades. These were not Fyren’s men.

  The man with the sword was a giant. I had never seen such a man. He looked ready to attack, but he was focused on Ingen, not Kenway. The other man swung the axe up over his head.

  I had no weapon. I looked behind me for a stone, a stick, anything. There was nothing close at hand.

  The stocky man ran toward us, axe up high. Sir Kenway was at him in a flash. He brought his sword up to meet the axe, but he moved at the last second, and the axe came down hard, digging into the Earth. The man tumbled.

  Sir Kenway jabbed his sword at him, but the giant stepped forward and block
ed his move. The blades sang in the air as they fought.

  The stocky man had pulled his weapon out of the ground. He grabbed Ingen around her wrist. She reared back and hit him in the jaw with her fist. He did not seem angered by this, just more determined. He went toward her again. I grabbed his arm, but he threw me to the ground easily.

  Sir Kenway’s sword flew out of his hands and into the air. The giant lunged at him, slicing his upper left arm.

  “No!” I screamed. I pounced on the giant’s back, biting him in the neck, tasting sweat and grime. He brushed me off as if I were an insect and backhanded me across my face, whipping my head back. Pain shot through my jaw.

  Arrows began flying through the air. They seemed to be coming from every tree, every bush. One hit the stocky man in the shoulder. He leaped onto my horse and rode off. The giant grabbed Sir Kenway’s sword and disappeared into the woods.

  Ingen looked like she might follow them.

  “No!” I yelled at her, my jaw throbbing. “Kenway is hurt.”

  I ran to him. He was leaning against a tree, his horse standing beside him. “Let me see your arm,” I said, reaching for him.

  “No,” he said. “Come here.” He turned my face. “Are you hurt?” His eyes were wild. “Is Ingen?”

  “We are unharmed.” I brushed him off. “You’re the one who’s injured.”

  He touched my cheek lightly with the back of his hand. “You mustn’t be hurt.” I wondered if he worried only out of duty, but his touch was gentle, and so were his eyes.

  He rested his head against the tree. He was pale, breathing quickly.

  “Let me tend to you,” I said. His sleeve was ripped and bloody.

  “It’s not deep, Shadow,” he said.

  Out of the forest came a man and two boys, all holding longbows.

  “Sir, are you all right?” asked the man, running up to us. He winced when he saw my face. “And you, my lady?” He glanced at Ingen, still breathing hard from the fight.

  I looked at the small boys. I had thought them an army.

  Sir Kenway nodded weakly at the man. “You saved our lives.”

  “But not your horse, sir,” said the man. He had an open face—a gentle mouth, warm eyes. I trusted him immediately. A strange new feeling for me.

  His long tunic was patched and worn and fell to his knees. The boys’ tights were ripped, almost in rags. They were both redheaded and had freckles sprinkled across their flushed cheeks. Twins. Their bows were almost as big as they.

  “Or my sword,” said Sir Kenway, shaking his head.

  But I’d seen the way that giant had looked at Ingen. And the other man had grabbed her. The attackers had been after her, not the horses nor the sword.

  “Sir, you must come with us. Goodham, my village, is but an hour away. My boys and I were out hunting when we heard the attack.”

  “No, no,” said Sir Kenway, waving his hand.

  “This forest’s not safe, sir. You shouldn’t be traveling in it. Filled with thieves. Especially these last few years.”

  “We must go,” said Sir Kenway, trying to stand. He fell back against the tree.

  “We’ll go to your village,” I told the man. “Can you see to the wound first? We must stop the bleeding.”

  It was a struggle to get Sir Kenway to agree, but finally our rescuer, Stillman, was able to rip off his sleeve. Although the cut was not deep, it bled too much. The boys ripped up a tunic they found in Sir Kenway’s bag. Stillman bound the wound.

  “Tayte, my wife, she’s a good healer. She’ll tend to him.”

  “Help me get him on his horse,” I said. Sir Kenway didn’t protest. Once in the saddle, he fell forward. We draped his cloak around him.

  I whispered to him, “Are you all right?”

  “I’ll rest a moment.” He closed his eyes.

  I worried he’d fall, but he clutched the saddle with both hands. I led the horse through the woods, following Stillman and his boys. I kept a hand on his leg. He’d respond briefly when I questioned him. Ingen was last, talking softly to her pale horse.

  Shortly, we were on a wide path, the one we couldn’t find last afternoon. Stillman plucked several leaves off a tall bush and put them in his pocket.

  “Tayte can use them,” he said. “She’ll make an ointment for the young knight.” He held out one of the leaves to me. “Here. Take a sniff.”

  I put the sweet-smelling plant to my nose as we walked. It was wonderfully fragrant. I felt its scent in my nose, down my throat, filling my lungs. I pulled it back and looked. It was just a bit of greenery.

  Ingen reached over and grabbed the plant from me.

  “Those men were after you,” I said to her.

  “Weren’t they?”

  She sniffed the herb and continued to hold it to her nose. Then she caught my eye and nodded.

  “Why?” I asked her.

  She leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Because they believe.”

  I turned away from her. She seemed as fanatic about faith as Kenway was about Deor.

  She laughed at me, then grinned playfully at the boys. Their names were Rowe and Roe, and they couldn’t keep their eyes off of Ingen.

  It took me a while to understand that there was a difference in their names, since they were pronounced the same way. The boys chattered at me about the names, pressing me to acknowledge the difference.

  I knew the importance of a name.

  We had walked about a mile when Sir Kenway called for me. He felt feverish to the touch.

  “Lie still, Sir Kenway. We’re almost there.”

  He raised himself up and grabbed my hand. “We need to find Kendra.” With that, he fell forward again.

  I was worried. “How much farther is it, Stillman? He’s very hot.”

  Stillman didn’t answer. I looked up and saw the three of them staring at me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  Rowe spoke. “Kendra? You’re going to see the witch?”

  Ingen smiled and nodded.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Goodham was situated in a valley no longer green. But beauty could be found in the snowcapped mountains, which soared above the small cluster of buildings. The pass to the north out of the village was wide enough for horses, Stillman told me, and was often used by travelers to the mountains.

  His cottage was long, with a hard-packed dirt floor and a fire pit in the middle. Smoke drifted up, past dead animals hung from a peaked ceiling and through a hole in the roof.

  The single room was about eighty feet long. Large straw pallets were at one end, stuffed in the corners. A cow lived at the other end.

  The smells were strong—simmering rabbit over the fire, cow manure, sweet herbs hanging by the door. Sir Kenway coughed and gagged. Ingen and I helped him to one of the beds of straw, away from most of the odor. Stillman told me he would care for our horses, and then he took the boys and left us with his wife.

  Tayte bustled from one end of the cottage to another. She glanced at Sir Kenway’s arm, then ran back to the fire. She barely acknowledged us before she started work. She took Stillman’s leaves and threw them into a stone pot. With a stick, she removed a hot rag from a pot of boiling water and skittered back to Sir Kenway.

  I helped her take off Sir Kenway’s tunic. Ingen knelt down beside the pallet and watched us. Tayte removed his bandage, which was wet with blood. Pressing the now-warm rag into my hand, she said, “Clean the wound gently.” As if I would do it otherwise.

  She hurried back to finish making the ointment.

  Sir Kenway moaned while we worked. Tayte said the loss of blood had weakened him. The wound mustn’t get infected.

  It was odd to see Sir Kenway so vulnerable. Lying on a straw pallet with his shirt off, in a peasant’s cottage, he did not look himself.

  I could not stop staring at him, for he was lovely. If there were such creatures, weren’t the rest of us—who were not so fortunate—supposed to look at them? Still, I was very glad Sir Kenway was una
ware of my gaze. But when I looked up, Ingen’s eyes were on me. I felt my cheeks grow hot. Could the girl not leave me be?

  Tayte applied the ointment and bound the wound, and covered Sir Kenway in blankets warmed by the fire. Then she hustled us away from him. Her eyes darted as quickly as her hands. She had a kind manner, but was twitchy and easily agitated. Her hair was flaming red.

  Ingen and I went outside to eat the hard black bread Tayte had given us. She might be a good healer, but alas, she was not a good cook. It was still early. The chilly open air was welcome after the shut-in smells of the hut.

  I sat on a stump outside the cottage. Ingen plopped down in the dirt, still strangely quiet. Villagers watched us warily from their windows or the small plots of land they tended, but didn’t approach us. Stillman returned and nodded at us as he went back into the hut.

  A brown dog sniffed my feet. I ran my hand over his cold wet fur. He smelled as if he had been swimming in a river. I threw a stick and, with his tail wagging, he flew after it. I envied his freedom.

  But if that was so, why was I still here? What lofty thoughts I’d had in the castle, telling myself nothing would keep me from escape. But here I was, free to leave again, and yet I stayed. Surely I wasn’t shallow enough to stay because of an attraction I didn’t understand. But I knew it was much more than that now. I felt uneasy and didn’t want to look too deeply at my feelings.

  The twins came running from around the corner of the cottage. Seeing us, they skidded to a stop, their eyes mostly on Ingen. Their cheeks were flushed, and they must’ve been cold without warm cloaks. But they didn’t seem to mind the chill.

  They looked very much alike, but I found I could easily tell one from the other. Rowe had longer hair than his brother, and he could not be still. He rocked on his feet, found a pointy stick on the ground, squashed a bug with his heel, jabbed his brother, and spoke continuously all the while. He peppered me with questions—not waiting for an answer before he asked another.

  He wanted to know about Kendra, the witch. He looked at Ingen when he asked, but she only smiled.

  “I know nothing of her,” I said to him. “Have you seen her?”

  “No, but she used to be one of us,” he said, grinning. Mischief twinkled in his eyes. “The villagers threw her out when she was thirteen.” He pointed. “Sent her to live up there.”