Hunter's Moon

by D A Godwin

  * * *

  She woke with a start, knowing it was close, even without knowing what it was. She held her breath, listening fearfully. There was motion close by and… she saw Tormjere sitting at the mouth of the cave, hand on his sword. Their eyes met, and she could see her own concern reflected in his eyes.

  “I felt it too,” he whispered.

  “How? I thought I was dreaming. It was as if something without form was chasing me. It did not know where I was, but it was a dark place and offered no hope of escape.”

  Tormjere nodded. He looked at the woods in that way he did, like he was concentrating on something. They both waited in silence. Listening. Wondering at what it could have been. After tense moments she grew tired and put her head in her hands.

  “How long until sunrise?” she asked.

  He looked up. It was still dark, and the moon had followed most of its track across the sky. “A few hours.”

  “May we leave now? I do not wish to dream such things again.”

  “Of course.”

  Feet Upon the Path

  Linhead would have been little more than a smudge on a cartographer’s map were it not for its location. Less than a day’s walk from Fallhaven, it was the farthest point upriver that a flat-bottomed boat could reach, and as such it had become a small but important stopping point for furs being shipped east. It was also the only place where Tormjere and Kataria would be able to find transport down the Yarrowonli River. The interior of the Kingdom remained wild, without roads or settlements, and the river was the fastest and safest way through.

  Their journey to the town, however, had been anything but safe. After descending from the mountains, they had crossed the road to Fallhaven without incident, but signs of the goblins’ passing were everywhere. From there they circled south through the forested foothills before turning back east to Linhead, trying to avoid another confrontation. A rocky stretch of the river west of the town proved shallow enough to ford, and they now followed along the narrow road that connected the town to Fallhaven.

  No wall surrounded Linhead, though a squat watchtower stood atop a hill alongside the road. From there, the entire town, such as it was, sloped down the hill as it followed the river.

  “You’re still committed to this decision?” Tormjere asked as they passed beneath the watchtower. They were only a short distance from Fallhaven, but once they left here, there would be no turning back.

  “The river leads to Halisford, one of the largest and most important cities in the Kingdom. It seems as good a place as any to look for the commander of an army. We will not find him anywhere near here.”

  Tormjere looked around. Linhead had the gritty, comfortable feel of a working town, and the same dirt that made up the roads seemed to coat the buildings and people as well. There seemed little activity that did not involve furs and meat, or the support of those who dealt in such goods. Everything was constructed of wood, as if stone was too permanent a material for their needs. Many people were in the streets, most gathered in clumps while others scurried about their business, often with unkind glances at those standing around. No one seemed to be going anywhere, but everyone was doing something.

  “There are more people here than I would have expected,” Kataria, or rather, Shalindra said. He needed to think of her with her new name rather than risk the wrong one slipping out.

  “And none of them seem happy. We should try not to stay long.”

  A pair of soldiers slouched at a corner, glaring sullenly as soldiers did when dealing with commoners. Their gaze lingered on Shalindra as she passed. She averted her eyes as she quickened her pace.

  “Relax,” Tormjere whispered. “If you act out of sorts, you’ll draw attention.”

  “What if they recognized me?” She could almost feel them watching her and fought the urge to turn and look.

  “You may not be dressed in finery, but you’re still better looking than most. He probably just thought you were…”

  “I was what?”

  “You know… prettier than most women.”

  “So, I am just better than average?” she huffed as they stopped to rest in a narrow alley between two buildings.

  “We can put some more mud in your hair, but unless I beat you with a blunt object, I can’t make you ugly.”

  She scowled at him and ran her fingers through her hair to comb the dirt out, unsure if his statement was a compliment or not.

  “You don’t have any money, do you?” he asked.

  “No. Someone else always carried it for me.”

  “We’ll need something to buy passage, and I have precious few coins at present.” Drex, as the patrol leader, had kept most of the group’s coins. Tormjere had an entire bag full of gems at his disposal, taken from the Imaretii after returning Treven and the Book of Amalthee to Kirchmont, but the pouch and its valuable contents were secreted away near his home, where they were of absolutely no use.

  “I have gems,” Shalindra said hesitantly, her hand going to the pouch hanging inside her tunic. “On my ring. There are two sapphires on it.”

  “I’d rather not damage something so important.”

  “It… they are not that important.”

  His look told her it hadn’t been a convincing lie.

  Shalindra fidgeted. “They were placed one to either side of the crest. A gift from my mother.”

  “To match your eyes.”

  Her blue eyes met his, momentarily vulnerable. “Yes. I do not know why, but I always took comfort from that one change. The Actondel crest is green and gold, with no blue in it. I was always different.”

  She sighed and held out her hand to him, the ring resting in her palm.

  “We need safe passage. We need food. Even if we remain unmolested, it will be a week before we arrive, and we still face an uncertain end.” She looked at him resolutely. “Eluria asks that we give up worldly treasures.”

  His eyes held hers before taking the ring from her hand. “Just one, then.”

  Turning away from the street, he used his knife to pry one of the stones free, careful not to damage the ring any more than necessary.

  “Now we just need to sell it without attracting attention. Let’s try over there. Hide your symbol.”

  The flimsy faded stalls in the small market offered little hope of finding someone able or willing to buy a gem, but at the end of the row stood a more permanent structure with the shutters thrown open. Shalindra followed him inside, where tables and counters were covered in all manner of goods for sale.

  “And a fine day to you both,” came a jovial greeting from a small, dusky-skinned man behind a large counter. “It is Najadi who is pleased to serve you today. Interested in something sparkling for the lady?”

  Tormjere’s expression opened into an uncharacteristically broad smile, and his answer was equally friendly. “Unfortunately, no. We would like to sell a small stone, if possible.” He held out the gem for the man to see.

  “Ah, a sapphire,” the man said, taking it carefully. “Rare to see one here, but most common in the south.” He produced a lens and peered at it. “Nicely cut, yes. Where did you say it came from?”

  “It’s been in our family for years,” Tormjere lied. “But it’s a long way to Adair and we’re out of money,” he added, naming a city far to the south, and close to the capital.

  “You picked a poor time for that journey, my friend.” Najadi shook his head as he studied the stone. “Goblins have come from whatever hole they live in and attacked everything from Merrywood to Fallhaven, may Salleha infect them with fleas,” he said crossly, invoking a god Tormjere had never heard of. “No one in Fallhaven ever has time for us, do they? But the moment they find hardship at their door, half the city runs here for help.”

  Tormjere and Shalindra shared a glance. The scope of the goblin attacks was much larger than either had suspected.

  “We shall be cautious then, thank you,” Tormjere said.

  Najadi put down the lens and pressed hi
s fingers together. “I shall give you fourteen copper ships for it.”

  It was woefully underpriced, even for a common stone of the size. Tormjere did his best to look distraught. “But this was my mother’s, and her mother’s before her. I couldn’t sell it for less than thirty.”

  “Tears of Rignia shall flow for you this evening for having to part with something so valuable, truly,” Najadi said sympathetically, “but the stone is small, and what could I possibly do with just one? I shall offer sixteen, though, to ease the pain of separation.”

  Shalindra tugged on Tormjere’s sleeve. “I am hungry. Can we just trade it somewhere else for food?”

  “We probably should,” Tormjere sighed, looking dejected even as he admired how well timed her comment was.

  Najadi looked insulted. “It would be a terrible waste to see such finery in the hands of a scullery maid. I will offer nineteen to prevent such an offense.”

  Tormjere chewed his lip and looked at Kataria, then made a show of giving in. “Nineteen then.”

  “May Salleha watch over you,” Najadi said, producing the coins.

  “Thanks,” Tormjere said. “What’s the easiest way to get to Fallhaven?”

  “You must have arrived by boat, then. There is only one road out of this town, my friend. Follow it and you shall arrive where you wish.”

  Tormjere thanked him again, and they stepped back outside. She was surprised when he motioned her to a stop next to a building. Turning his back to the street to shield his actions, he took half the coins and handed them to her.

  “Here, we should each keep half in case either of us get robbed,” he said.

  Kataria took the coins and tucked them into her pouch. The added weight tugged at her neck, a subtle reminder of what she had just sold. It was necessary but unsettling all the same. In a period of a few short days, she had killed a family friend, discarded her clothes, cut off her hair, hidden from everything and everyone who might recognize her, and now traded away part of her birthright. It felt as if, piece by piece, she was cutting away everything that made her who she was. What would happen to her when there was nothing left to leave behind?

  “Why did you tell him we were going to Adair?” she asked, to take her mind off such thoughts.

  “On the off chance someone finds out about us, it may send them in the wrong direction. No point in leaving more of a trail than we must.”

  Kataria could find no fault in his thinking. They couldn’t know who, if anyone, might be looking for her. It could be no one, and they were simply imagining things, but she somehow didn’t quite believe it. Erbac had said there would be others.

  Tormjere chuckled. “While I’d love for Najadi’s god to send a swarm of fleas at the goblins, it probably wouldn’t do any good. Most of them don’t have any hair.”

  She laughed with him, momentarily cheered by the humor of it. “Should we purchase food now?”

  “Let’s find a boat first and see how much we have left after that.”

  They made their way along the river until they reached the docks, or at least what passed for docks. She was expecting to find piers arranged in orderly rows, but it was nothing more than a muddy section of the river bank with half a dozen long, flat-bottomed boats pulled up onto the dirt. The water flowing by had a brownish tint and carried with it an unpleasant odor.

  “Let’s check the ones that are loaded,” Tormjere said. “They’re most likely to be leaving soon.”

  They approached the water’s edge, where a man as weathered as the rope he was repairing sat on the side of a boat that was piled high with bundled furs.

  “I don’t take passengers,” the man said gruffly before Tormjere could even ask. “If it’s a float you’re after, check with Quinten.” He motioned them down the riverbank with a jerk of his head.

  Kataria looked at Tormjere, who just shrugged and kept walking toward the next vessel. Like every other boat there, it was two or three paces across and at least three times as long, with a shallow draft and blunted ends. The hull was pitted and scarred, and showed the effects of running the river every bit as much as its owner. The balding man with a thick, salt-and-pepper beard did his best to pretend he didn’t see them. He lifted a bundle of furs in his thick arms and heaved them onto the boat, where two men, one young and sullen, and the other old with a toothless grin, dragged it into position.

  “Are you Quinten?” Tormjere asked. “We’re looking to—”

  “Look, I don’t care what you two’re running from, but if it’s not dead I don’t take it on my boat.”

  “We’re just heading home,” Tormjere said, “and he said you would.”

  “Did he?” Quinten made an obscene gesture towards the man on the other boat, who ignored all of them. “So, how far is ‘home?’”

  “Halisford.”

  Quinten grunted. “And what if I’m not going that far?”

  The older sailor on the boat cackled. “Then you’ll be payin’ us less’n you’ve promised, Captain!”

  Quinten scowled at him, but, perhaps catching the look of desperation on Kataria’s face when he turned around, didn’t send them away.

  “Alright. I’m light on this float and I’m not sticking around, so maybe you’re in luck. Got any coin?”

  “A little,” Tormjere replied.

  “How little?

  “We could do ten.”

  “Halisford’s a long way. Fifteen ships, for each of ya.”

  “Fifteen for both, and I’ll help with the work.”

  “Got all the help I need,” he replied, gesturing to the two men arranging the cargo.

  “Lots of troubles around now. You could probably use another sword.”

  Quinten crossed his arms and sized Tormjere up but did not look impressed. “You any good with it?”

  “Good enough.”

  The captain stood there for a moment, then cast a nervous glance at the mountains behind them and wrinkled his nose at some thought he didn’t share. His eyes drifted to the symbol hanging from Kataria’s neck, down to the hammer on her hip, and back to her eyes.

  “Alright, fifteen then. But you bring your own food.”

  Tormjere agreed, and they shook hands.

  “Be here at first light. We leave when the sun breaks the trees, with or without you. I’d leave tonight if I could.”

  “Why?”

  Quinten spat. “Goblins hit Fallhaven. Don’t want to be here if they decide to show up.”

  “Us either. Know where we can spend the night?”

  “Not my boat. There’s only one place with rooms here: Rigin’s Royalhouse. Might want to keep an eye on your lady friend there.”

  “We’ll give it a look, thanks.”

  “First light,” he reminded them as they turned to go.

  Rigin’s Royalhouse turned out to be nothing of the sort. The building was squalid and run-down, and lived up to Quinten’s opinion. Light from inside leaked onto the street through gaps in the walls as much as through the open door.

  Kataria paused in the doorway to let her eyes adjust. A haze of smoke and the drone of dozens of conversations filled the air. The creaking beams that supported the floor above were propped up with thick posts that leaned at different angles. People huddled in the dark corners that seemed to be everywhere in the dimly-lit room, while serving girls made their way around, and occasionally over, the patrons. Several glanced up, taking note of their entrance, and she looked away as their eyes lingered on her.

  They made their way to a bench near the fire. The heat was uncomfortable, but the light it provided was reassuring. Tormjere sat with his back to the wall, watching the room. She felt suddenly vulnerable as she settled opposite him.

  “Cheerful place,” he said.

  “We cannot afford a room, can we?”

  “Probably not, as much as the boat will cost.”

  Kataria had never had to worry about money before. She had always been able to take what she wanted, and someone was always there to pa
y for it.

  “Perhaps there is somewhere else? Or, if we require more, I have the other—”

  “No,” he said instantly. “We may need it later, and to return to Najadi with an identical stone would call attention.”

  Kataria looked around the common room. “Where will we sleep?”

  “Not here. I might chance it if we could get a corner, but those are taken. There were some trees down by the river. They’re probably cleaner anyway.”

  She sighed. She had been looking forward to an actual bed.

  A scrawny man with a doleful scowl approached and set bowls of boiled vegetables before them. Tormjere placed a coin in his hand, but he didn’t move until a second was added. The food was cold, and the bread stale, but they were hungry. They ate quietly, each alone with their thoughts.

  Tormjere’s demeanor suddenly shifted and his eyes swept the room, locking onto something over her shoulder. She started to turn in her seat to see.

  “Don’t.”

  “What is it?” she whispered fearfully.

  “Just the way those two in the corner keep looking at us. It seems a little off.”

  Kataria pushed back what was left of her food. “I am finished. May we leave now?”

  He wolfed down what was left of her food, then stood.

  From the corner of her eye, she saw two men rise from their seats as she followed Tormjere from the inn. Even though night had fallen, it somehow seemed brighter outside than in.

  “Into the stables there, but don’t rush,” he said.

  She could feel the tension in his voice, but mimicked his casual stroll. Once inside, they ducked into a shadow. A horse tossed its head at the intrusion, but she placed a calming hand on its nose and the animal quieted.

  Footsteps approached and stopped just outside.

  Tormjere crouched by the door with a hand on his sword.

  “Where’d they go?”

  “Who cares? Probably couldn’t stand the smell.”

  “Wasn’t the little fellow lookin’ for someone like that?”