by H. L. Burke
“Any word?” Trea asked.
Willa wiped her brow. “Not yet.” She switched the hand she turned the spit with. “So no luck on the high pass?”
Trea shook her head.
The chicken glistened over the fire. Fat dripped into an earthen jar Mom had hung beneath it, though some hissed into the hot coals.
Such a waste. My favorite meal, and I’m not at all hungry. Trea tightened her arms about herself.
Soot whined. Trea had tethered him to the cabin for fear he might ruin tracks before she could spy them. Now she untied him and sat, rubbing his ears. Maybe he could smell Quill’s path. He’d always been more of a guard dog than a hunter, but dogs were naturals, weren’t they?
Soot stood. His ears perked up, and he gave a sharp bark.
Brode emerged from the trees. “I think we found something.”
“Tracks?” Trea’s neck muscles tightened.
“Not exactly. The canoe's missing. If they launched it on the rocky shore, they wouldn’t necessarily leave tracks.”
“They wouldn’t have known where to find the canoe unless Quill told them.” Willa’s shoulders relaxed. “She must’ve gone willingly. That’s a small relief. Where’s Freda?”
“She went to get Karvir,” Brode said. “If they took the river, they’ll have a good head start. We need to leave immediately if we want to catch up.”
“Whatever we choose, all of you should eat first. Pet, put the tubers on the coals then come help me inside. The bread should be about done. Trea, will you take the spit?”
Trea nodded and took her mom’s spot as Willa and Pet hurried into the house.
Brode gave her a weak smile. “You got your way about chicken dinner.”
Trea flushed. “I don’t really want it now.”
“Your mom’s right. I’ve traveled on an empty stomach before, you know.” He came to stand beside her and inhaled the savory scent. “We’ll be glad for this meal.”
“I still don’t want to eat,” she whispered. A tear slipped down her cheek.
“Don’t cry.” He touched her hand.
She angled her face away from him. “It’s just the smoke.”
Brode raised his eyebrows. “Smoke? Sure …”
“Don’t be annoying,” she snapped.
He opened his mouth, shut it, then turned away.
Inwardly, Trea winced. She couldn’t let him see her cry right now. Not when he had to be as miserable as she was. They needed to be strong for each other, and for Quill. Her throat constricted.
“Do you really think she left willingly?” she asked.
Brode shrugged, his back still to her. “I think we’d have heard something if they took her by force. Quill’s not a pushover. Even if she can't hurt people, she wouldn’t just let them lead her quietly away. She’d call for help or put up a struggle. Was she up for Late Litany last night?”
“Yes. She seemed … quieter than usual, but I’m always hazy during Late Litany.”
Karvir flew out of the woods into the cooking fire. When needed, he could fire jump, allowing his inner flame to draw him into a nearby heat source like an iron nail to a magnet. He rose from the firepit. “Freda told me. The river, huh?”
Brode nodded. “It looks like it.”
Karvir rubbed the back of his neck. “Any signs she was fighting them? Drag marks?”
“No, sir.”
Freda jogged into the yard, her face red. She bent over, hands on her knees, and sucked in air. “Woods and trees, Karvir. Slow down. Some of us still have to breathe, you know?”
Willa carried a basket of bread out of the house, followed by Pet, who brought a pitcher of water and an earthen plate. The fragrance of the bread tickled Trea’s nose, and her stomach grumbled in spite of her worry.
Brode’s right. If I don’t eat, I won’t have the strength to do what’s needed.
Pet rolled the tubers off the coals onto her plate.
Freda concentrated on Karvir. “If she went willingly, do we really want to go after her? She’s old enough to make her own choices. By her age, I’d been married and widowed already.”
“You don’t know Eanan like I do, Freda.” Karvir’s eyes flickered. “That man would do anything to get his way, and he has a grudge against me. Maybe he wormed his way into Quill’s trust, but not mine.” His form solidified, and he ground his heel into the dirt. “I should have stopped him from leaving. His quest is dangerous enough in its own right. Bringing Quill into it, he’s made it personal.”
“So we’re going after her?” Freda frowned.
“All of us?” Pet’s eyes widened, and a smile spread over her face. Brode slipped his hand over his grin. Pet stuck out her tongue at him.
“Some of us need to stay and watch over Pet,” Willa said. “I’m an obvious choice, but I’ll need someone who can fight on the off chance we fall into danger.”
Trea clamped her mouth shut. Selfish or not, she was not volunteering to stay behind.
“I can stay,” Freda said. “If you let me keep Soot, the four of us should be fine. I've kept the beasts from the door on my own before.”
“We’ll leave as soon as we’ve eaten. We’ve already lost too much time.” Karvir sighed.
Trea closed her eyes.This’ll all be over soon … and no one will get hurt. Oh Creator, don’t let anyone get hurt.
***
Karvir rubbed his hands together, sending sparks into the air. The river laughed and leapt over rocks, a few feet ahead. He hadn’t been able to find any tracks confirming Eanan and Quill had come this way. However, the shore here was a great slab of rock, perfect for avoiding such tells.
“Catching up to them would be a lot easier by boat,” he said. “There’s that raft you built for the fishing pond. We could drag it over here and make up for lost time.”
Trea glanced at him. “It’s too dangerous. If the water splashes over you—”
“I’m aware of my limitations, but they already have a good head start, and they will be traveling faster over water than we could possibly by land. It’s worth the risk. You and Brode get the raft. Use the pack-ram if you need to. I’m going to fetch something.”
He drifted back through the trees to their cabin. Willa still lingered over the dishes from their just finished meal.
“I need the ship’s lantern,” he said.
She blanched. “You want to take the river, don’t you?”
“It’s the fastest way to find her.”
“It’s so dangerous…” She dropped her eyes and shook her head. “Karvir, please be careful.”
“I’ll take every precaution. That’s why I need the lantern.” He slipped his arms around her.
“I just worry. I know what you’d do to keep us safe.” She pulled herself away from him and went into their room. When she returned, she carried a glass-windowed lantern with a half-burned tallow candle inside as well as a box of spare candles. “Quill had a reason for leaving. She wouldn’t have gone otherwise. Keep that in mind as you search for her, and please hear her out when you find her.”
“I promise.” His lips grazed her forehead. His being softened and melded with her warmth. Her heartbeat thrummed in his ears. The rise and fall of her breath soothed him. Emotion stirred within his chest like an updraft of warm air, and his hold on her tightened. She nestled her head into his chest. He forced himself not to fade any further, knowing if he did she’d sink right through him.
“I know,” she whispered.
He gazed into her eyes. “What?”
“That you love me more than you know how to say so you won’t even try.” She smiled. “It radiates off you like heat from a fire, and it’s the most beautiful thing in my life.”
Their lips met. He longed for flesh, for the sensation of his skin against hers. Not wanting the moment to sour, he pushed away that thought and concentrated instead on the way their body heat mingled, how he could sense her very soul, fluttering like a bird against him.
She handed him the
lantern. “Always keep it near and lit.”
“I know how to care for myself,” he laughed. “Believe it or not, I will be able to survive for a few days without your mothering.”
“You'd better,” she said before leaning forward for one more kiss.
Chapter Ten
Trea pushed at a rock with her pole, guiding the raft back into the center of the channel. Her arms and shoulders ached. She imagined the sleek canoe could cut through these waters at a much quicker pace. Still at least they were going faster than they would if they walked.
The lit ship’s lantern flickered in the middle of the raft in spite of the sunny day. Dad’s smoky aura clouded the glass, for it was safer for him within. Even with their best efforts to keep the raft steady, water occasionally splashed over it.
Her sweaty hands slipped down the pole. She wiped them on her trouser legs then tightened her grip.
Brode craned his neck, watching the edge of the river for signs, though Trea wasn’t sure what he thought he would see from so far away. Maybe it just helped him keep his mind off things. Trea could certainly use a distraction. As much as she loved them, Brode and Dad wouldn't win any awards for their scintillating conversation. Though she was as guilty of that as them. Mom and Quill were the talkers of the family. Trea had inherited her father’s brevity.
Darkness had forced them to pull into shore not long after leaving the cabin the night before. Rising early, they made good time, but this section of the river was unfamiliar to Trea. She and Brode rarely traveled so far from home.
A rumble grew over the light rush of the river. Brode shaded his eyes. “Rapids … do you think Eanan would’ve tried to shoot those?”
“Whether he did or not, we can’t. This raft wasn’t meant for rough waters.”
Brode picked up a second pole, and they both pushed towards the shore.
When the raft beached, Trea claimed the lantern and jumped into the mud. The lantern weighed lightly in her hand, something she’d often wondered at, for in his solid form, she’d have no hope of lifting Dad.
Karvir floated out of the lantern like sand spilling from an hourglass. He formed his vaguely-manlike shape and shook his legs. “I doubt Eanan would’ve taken the river through there.” He nodded towards the churning white waters of the narrow canyon. “He’s not a fool, and from my understanding, his desired path was westward. The river takes a turn towards the sea not far from here, the opposite direction from where he was headed.”
“West is a broad swath of land.” Brode scratched his head and tossed his pack from the raft to the shore. “Did he drop any other hints about where this Evermirror might lie?”
Karvir’s eyes narrowed. “He mentioned two landmarks. The Great Highway and … the Stone Span, I think.”
“The highway between Crossriver and the Green Band? Is that what he means by the Great Highway?” Brode tilted his head.
“No, I don’t think so. That was barely a trade route prior to the war. We need things that predate the burning of the valley. I was just a boy when that happened, far younger than either of you, but Eanan would remember … If there was a Great Highway, chances are it would’ve originated in Royal City, which is now a ruin at the heart of the Burnt Wastes. That was the center of all trade and travel in those days.”
“Do you know where that is?” Trea brushed her hair back from her face, and it stuck, slick with perspiration, probably standing straight up like a porcupine's quills.
“Vaguely … our best bet is to find some sign of their trail and follow that. Eanan was never much for woodcraft. He was raised in the cities by Sea Folk. If I can’t track him down, my father will probably come back from the grave to slap me.” Her dad gave a forced laugh. She smiled but couldn’t hold it.
Karvir hovered up and down the bank. Trea followed, watching the mud for signs. Her stomach twisted. Even knowing her father’s skill, it seemed finding Quill would be a matter of guesswork. She could’ve left the river at any point before the rapids … or even have continued on beyond them.
About twenty feet down the river, Karvir paused. “It looks as if someone smoothed the mud here, covered the tracks pretty well. Doesn’t quite look natural, though.” He stepped back. “If they did abandon the canoe, they wouldn’t take it far. It’s too heavy. Poke around in the underbrush.”
They split up, each taking a nearby patch of fragrant deer brush. The sweet smell of the fluffy blue flowers made Trea’s nose twitch. She pushed apart the branches, sending a squirrel skittering for the nearest tree.
After only a few minutes, Brode cried out, “Here it is!”
Karvir and Trea rushed to him. Several branches lay over the upturned canoe, but the care taken to hide it appeared to be minimal.
“I’m not sure if Eanan is stupid or just thinks that I am.” Karvir snorted.
***
For the first several days of their journey, Quill found herself looking over her shoulder constantly. With every cracking twig, she expected Dad or Freda to emerge from the trees, disapproving frown on their face, to insist she come home.
As the forest changed from the thick conifers and steep, rocky inclines to rolling hills and meager scrub oaks that grabbed at her skirts, her tension eased.
Every so often, Gabrin would stop and check their position using odd-looking instruments and the sun. He’d then suggest course changes, usually further south.
“We need to head southwest for the majority of our journey,” he explained, flipping open his compass and checking it for the twentieth time that morning. “It’s hard to keep to a straight path, though, with the hills and whatnot.”
“Navigating on the flat sea spoiled you, boy.” Eanan grinned.
This section of the Mountain’s Feet was near Quill’s old home, the Haven. Sometimes they crossed a familiar path, but Eanan wanted to avoid spying eyes, so whenever they encountered such signs of human habitation, they stayed away.
“Our quest isn’t an easy one to explain,” he said.
Near midday, they crested a large hill and stared out over a broad valley. While behind them the trees stretched on out of sight, before them lay only skeletons. Quill’s breath left her, and an eerie silence fell over the three travelers. Grass and shrubs sprang up from between the scorched bones of a forest. Burnt trees reached like fingers for the skies.
“It looks as if it’s finally growing back.” Eanan broke the silence.
“This is the Burnt Wastes, then?” Gabrin frowned.
“Yes. In my days it reeked so badly of sulfur and ash you could smell it for miles away. That’s why I didn’t realize we were so close.” Eanan inhaled, puffing out his chest. “Nothing but clean air and plants. See, the earth fights back. Crossing it won’t be as miserable as I thought it would be.”
“I still wish we could go around,” Quill said.
Gabrin set down his pack and brought out a map. “We’ll save several days cutting through, if I remember.” He knelt and rolled it out onto the ground. Laying his compass beside it, he scratched figures into the dirt. “It’s not so bad. The only thing that worries me is water. What’s your story about the streams of the Waste, Eanan?”
“Choked with acid and fish bones. It could eat through metal. There’s a chance the rains would’ve cleansed them too, though. The streams on this side of the Mountain’s Feet run off into the Valley rather than the sea. All that water, over the years, might have brought some healing.”
Goosepimples broke out over Quill’s arms, and she rubbed them. Water brings healing. Is that my purpose? Is that why the water calls me?
She cleared her throat. “It looks as if there’s a stream coming off that ravine over there.” She pointed towards a narrow outlet at the edge of the dead forest. “We should fill all our canteens before we head into the Wastes, just in case.”
Gabrin rolled up his map.
Quill let the men take the lead, turning back to the familiar forests one last time. Creator, let my family be safe. Let us find wha
t we need to find and let me see them again, please.
Chapter Eleven
Arana flattened her body against the ground, arms and fingers outstretched, in communion with the earth. The Earth Lord’s spirit strengthened her muscles, chasing away the desire for sleep.
“The journey is almost over, my Lord,” she murmured. Her lips caressed the dirt with each word. “Soon we will secure the bonds on your adversaries.”
The ground beneath her vibrated with approaching footsteps. Her oldest son, Markyl, cleared his throat. “Mama, we are prepared.”
She sat up and glared. “Why must you interrupt my prostrations? Have you done your prayers?”
He dropped his eyes. Markyl had his father’s broad nose, wide mouth, and stupid expression. Unfortunately, in spite of her carefully choosing a gifted Earth Speaker to mate with, none of her sons possessed the ability. She’d almost been relieved when her husband perished in the war. No more disappointing babies.
“You know I cannot hear them as you can.” He shuffled his feet. “The hours pass. If we press onward, we may reach the edge of the Wastes by evening. The donkey wants fresh grass.”
Arana stood with a huff. Animals were inconvenient, but the bindmetal needed for her assigned task would be too burdensome for the humans to carry, even divided between the four of them.
The other two members of her party stomped out the campfire. Arvid and Daman were cousins to each other and nephews of Arana’s late husband. Daman had the Speaker gift, and Arvid knew his way around a throwing knife, though both were only eighteen.
The women of their clan were trained to fight as well as the men, yet Arana worked exclusively with males. She trusted the women’s abilities but disliked how their presence altered the men’s behavior. The posturing and the coddling drove her near distraction. An alternative would’ve been to work only with women, but that would mean working without her sons. Not an option. She needed that loyalty.
She dusted off her long, brown coat fastened at the neck with bindmetal clasps. The men prodded the donkey out of the sheltered hollow where they had camped.