by Liam Reese
“North,” he said. “Let’s go, then.”
“How on earth are we supposed to tell which way is north from in the depths of these cursed woods?” Karyl looked around himself. “I’m all turned around.”
“It’s this way.” Thorn set off.
“How can you be sure?” Karyl called after him. “I don’t know how you can possibly know—”
Thorn glanced over his shoulder at the ex-guard and narrowed his eyes at him. “North is this way.”
He carried on, re-shouldering his pack, not even glancing back to see if they followed. He didn’t need to; he could hear the thrashing and the muffled curses as they made their way through the thick undergrowth. They couldn’t understand the trees, couldn’t sweet-talk them into doing what they wanted, didn’t know how to read them. How can you be sure which way is north, they asked, and here they couldn’t even find their way through a forest without sustaining minor damage.
Without him, they would be lost.
But without you, they wouldn’t be looking for this in the first place, his mind whispered to him. Shrugging it off, he pushed aside another branch. It wasn’t his fault Jelen had come to him and asked for help. It wasn’t his fault that he’d been born Forged —
None of this was his fault.
The mountains to the north were nearly four days walk away, by his best estimate. Surely in that time he would come up with something else, a new plan to distract the princess from the fact that her chosen savior, a Forged, who had promised to help her, couldn’t do what she asked. The fact that the last time he came up with “something else” was what had led them here in the first place nagged at his mind, but he resolutely ignored it. Perhaps he just needed a stroke of inspiration.
Perhaps he would find it on the road.
He led them through the woods as best as he could, keeping to the outer edge where the underbrush was a trifle easier to get through.
“I don’t like these woods,” said Irae. “They smell of rot.”
“It’s only fallen logs,” Thorn reassured her. “Nothing unusual about that. It’s the smell of
wolves you should be worried about.”
“I don’t know what a wolf smells like.”
“That is one of the main differences between you and me.”
There were animals in the woods, of course, just as the bard had feared, but as long as it was daylight they would have no troubles with them.
It wasn’t until the later afternoon that the occasional rustling began to come closer. They were much closer to the outer edge of the woods, and it was growing dark. Thorn stopped and waited for the others to catch up to him.
“We should pitch camp,” he said. “Start a fire. Stay close.”
“I think that is a wonderful idea,” said the legendarian, looking over his shoulder.
“We should keep going,” said Irae, stepping forward. “We have too far to go and we are running out of time.”
This earned her a frown from both Thorn and the legendarian.
“I’m sorry, is there an end date for this adventure?” said Ruben. “I didn’t realize we were under pressure for time.”
She heaved a sigh. “Do not question me.”
“Why not?” said the legendarian, raising his eyebrows. She stopped and looked at him. Thorn was reasonably sure that the working of her jaw was her biting her tongue to keep from speaking. It was Karyl’s hand on her shoulder, though, that seemed to hold her back.
“I would prefer,” she managed at last, “that you not question me. We should keep going.”
“No, we should start a fire,” said Thorn. “It’s a better idea to stick to the woods, for the night. We’re safer here, as long as we keep the animals and other creatures away.”
“Animals and — other creatures?” said Lully, incredulously. “Other creatures apart from animals?”
“The open ground outside the woods will expose us to too many dangers,” Thorn went on. “If it’s a choice between spending the night fighting off wolves and spending the night fighting off highwaymen, I personally would rather take my chances with the furry four-legged animals, instead of the furry two-legged variety.”
“What you would rather,” said Irae, “is not the issue at hand here. If we get out of the woods, we have another hour or two of travel time in the clear space. It won’t be dark for a little while yet, and then we’ll have the moon. We press on, and spend the night only when we have to, out of the woods.”
Thorn looked to the trees, weighing the options. “It’s a bad decision,” he said.
“It’s my decision to make,” Irae reminded him quietly. She re-shouldered her pack and gestured to Graic, who was looking up into the trees with a puzzled twist, as though she might have heard someone call her name. “Come along, Granny. We’ve a while to go yet.”
Karyl looked to Thorn, who shook his head. The ex-guard shrugged his boxy shoulders.
“We’ll be equal to whatever comes along,” he said. “The — she wants to get out of the woods.”
“So I gathered.” Thorn patted the trunk next to him one last time and moved into action. “Why is she in such an all-fired hurry?”
“It has been a month since we left the castle,” Karyl confided quietly. “She is worried that her uncle, the traitor, will cement his hold over the kingdom if she tarries much longer.”
Thorn had heard the phrase “her uncle, the traitor” so often that he found he was subconsciously viewing it as part of the king’s title. His Majesty, Her Uncle, The Traitor.
“If he’s such a poor king as she says, then it doesn’t matter how long he is on the throne, does it? There must be more to it than that.”
“Her uncle has been crowned, it’s true, and he calls himself the December King — but the ceremony was not completed. The title is still in the air, so to speak. Perhaps it doesn’t matter to him, or perhaps he has simply not had enough time to organize another ceremony, what with the troubles. But if she can retake the title before he claims it, she will.”
“What does it matter?” Thorn asked. “It’s a name only.”
Karyl shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I don’t really understand it myself. But it’s something that belongs to her, as much a part of her as her name is, and to see another person take it, and wear it — that’s why she’s in such a hurry.” He turned a brief grin on Thorn. “That, and she doesn’t like the woods.”
“Yes, I picked up on that. But really. She’s already been ousted from the throne,” he pointed out. “Name or no name, how can it get any worse than it is already?”
“You should never, ever ask that question,” said Karyl. “You’re just inviting a twist of fate.” He pushed past Thorn, following closely after Lully. “Come along, magicker. We’ll get you where you need to go faster if you follow her.”
Thorn shook his head in the darkness, but as no one was watching him, he gave up and made his way in their wake.
Another half hour saw them much closer to the edge of the woods, but it was already very dim under the trees. They rested for a moment in a small clearing and drank water from a stream along the outer edge.
Thorn found his way over to the princess, and set his pack down beside her, squatting down awkwardly at her side.
“We’re making good time,” he said.
She looked up from her involved contemplation of her water flask and gave him a brittle smile.
“I told you, it’s a far better idea to keep going till we are out of the forest. Not long now, I believe, and then we can camp under the stars.”
Camping under the stars still did not sound like that good of an idea to Thorn. He reached down to steady himself and dug his fingers into the soft loam beneath his feet.
“Why are you so keen to get away from the woods?”
She was quiet for a moment, and he thought she wasn’t going to answer.
She heaved a long sigh. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t like them.
They make me… nervous. Anxious. The feeling of being surrounded, unable to see clearly what I’m dealing with. It’s a tactical error, among other things.”
“Hemmed in,” said Thorn.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Protected, rather,” Thorn objected. “In the woods, there is always something at your back.”
“Yes, that’s what I’m afraid of.” She took another drink from her flask, then ran a quick and practiced eye over her companions. “Something at my back.”
“But, look, Jelen —” He broke off, shaking his head. “Er — my apologies. My lady.”
“Thorn.” She folded her arms, took another look at the legendarian, who was far enough away that he could not hear. “It was a good thought you had, to call me by that name when you brought Ruben here.”
He didn’t want to tell her that it had been accidental. “Oh, well, I’m always trying to think ahead,” he murmured, lowering his eyes.
“After all, I am meant to be in exile. I believe that there will those who prove loyal, but there are also many who oppose me, and one can never know who is waiting to shank you in your sleep.”
He smiled, despite himself. “One might almost think you were afraid,” he said.
“Of being shanked in my sleep?” said Jelen. “Who wouldn’t be afraid of that? I’m not stupid, whatever you may think. I don’t think you quite understand what it is to be a queen who has had her throne taken from her. It isn’t that everyone just feels sorry for you and wishes you well.”
He shook his head again. “Very well, I will take your word for it. The last thing I’ve ever
claimed to know anything about is politics. What shall I call you once being Jelen stops suiting your purpose?”
She paused. “Why does that matter now?”
“Because,” said Thorn, “I want to know who you really are. I call you Jelen, in my head, but that isn’t who you are. I want to know what to call you when I think of you.”
She gave him a long, searching look, and did not seem displeased with what she found.
“You may call me Irae, if you like, if it will be easier. Just so long as you don’t forget your place.”
He didn’t think that it would be any easier, and he was quite sure that forgetting his place was not at all an option, but he nodded anyway.
“Irae,” he said.
“I didn’t lie to you, you know,” she said, musingly. “My mother did call me Jelen — little deer. That is one of the only things that I truly remember about her — most of my other memories are stolen, I think, put together from stories that my father told me. She died when I was so young, I scarcely had time to know her.”
He bit his lip. “My mother,” he said, and hesitated for a moment before plunging on. “My mother I remember quite well. But I’m sorry about it.”
Jelen tilted her head. “Why?”
Thorn smiled a little, sadly. “I’m sure you’ve heard my history, or that you can imagine it. Nothing too pleasant. I wasn’t beaten, I suppose, and I was left alone for the most part. But I was born in a little village. The last thing my parents wanted was their only child to be born Forged, cursed, and strange. They took me into the woods, once they realized what I was, and they kept me there. I suppose it was really my own fault, in the end. Not much I could do about it, till I got old enough to seek my fortune on my own.”
“And is that how you ended up where you were when I found you? Seeking your fortune on your own?”
He shrugged. “More or less.”
“Then you should understand. I’m seeking my own fortune, only it’s rulership, and taking back my rightful place in my family. I can make a difference, if I’m given the chance. Who has the right to take that chance from me, or you, or anyone?”
“But perhaps that’s what your uncle is doing as well,” Thorn suggested. “Seeking his fortune. Taking his chances.”
“Fisher kings, all of us,” she said. “Time will tell.”
In the pale, wan light that sifted down from the drifting stars, her eyes were bright, and very determined. Thorn looked away from them.
“I don’t blame you,” he said, “though I don’t know if I agree with you, either.’
For a moment she seemed as though she would become angry with him; then her shoulders slumped a little as she relaxed. she shook her head.
“I don’t suppose I can ask for anything more than that,” she said, and took a last swig from her flask before tucking it back into her pack. “We haven’t far to go. Let’s get this over with.”
She got to her feet, supporting herself on a tree trunk. Thorn watched her and thought that perhaps she must be more tired than she let on. After all, she had been traveling for at least four days now. Much more than any of the rest of them. He felt a twinge of what he supposed was pity for this strange, driven young woman, and got to his feet as well. He still didn’t think sleeping in the open was a good idea; but since his queen demanded it, who was he to disagree? To his own surprise, the thought was only half sarcastic.
“March on,” he said, gesturing to Karyl and the others.
Karyl stopped to give Lully and Graic a hand with getting up. The legendarian fell into step beside Thorn as he led the way back onto the path. Thorn thought he saw a distant glimmer of teeth: Ruben’s ever-present hopeful smile.
“Long way, is it?” said Ruben.
“Not intolerably so.”
“Then why did you want to stop?”
Thorn eyed him sideways. “You haven’t spent much time out and about, have you?”
“You mean, out in the world? No, I’ve never even left Deen before,” said the bard cheerfully, with a pride that Thorn couldn’t help think misplaced. “This will be my first real adventure. I’ve heard a lot about them, though, so I hope I won’t be too much of an amateur. Besides, though you hired me as a legendarian, every adventure should have a bard involved. It’s traditional.”
“I see,” said Thorn, tucking that little tidbit away for future reference. “I’ve never heard that before.”
“Well, how do you think stories get told in the first place?”
“Good point.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“Even in Deen, you should hear the latest news,” Thorn said as he pushed aside a branch and remembered just as he let it go that politeness probably demanded that he hold it for his companion. As it was, it narrowly avoided hitting Ruben in the face, and the young man caught it with both hands. “There are highwaymen taking over this part of the country. All of the king’s highways are subject to them, but especially the roads just out of the forests. There is, if I remember correctly, some speculation that they may be quartering in and around the woods, and that is why the forest roads are so plagued.”
“If they may be quartering in the forest, then why are you so keen to stay here instead of carrying on?”
It was a sharper question than Thorn had expected from the young man, and he thought of how to answer for a moment before opening his mouth.
“I feel — equal, here in the forest. Anything that happens here, I can handle. The trees are familiar, comfortable, reliable. In the outlands, with nothing around me, it’s an entirely different story.”
“Oh. I like different stories.” The legendarian was quiet for a moment as they walked. “You think we will run into difficulties once we are out in the open?”
“I very much fear so. And you are quite certain that this is the direction we must go?”
“Quite.”
“How certain? There seemed to be some issue with that, earlier. Don’t you need time to do your research, read your books?”
“Well,” said Ruben, but it was drawn out, hedging, and there were at least five Ls in that well: welllll…
Thorn frowned in his direction. “Well what?”
“I don’t need to do research, as such.”
“Not as such? Not research, as such? How else would you do it?”
“I thought perhaps I woul
d need a little more time, is all, and then the memory just sort of popped into my head. I thought about it and there it was—”
“What memory?”
“Of where the Anvils of the Soul are. Or, at least, where I have been told they are, which is not necessarily the same thing. I’m not like other bards and legendarians, I maintain a healthy level of skepticism about what I hear from unverified sources.”
Thorn felt that the young bard was attempting to elicit a word of encouragement and approbation, but he was a little too focused on his curious words. “What do you mean?”
“Well, see, I didn’t really want to have to tell anyone of this, but as it is my job, I don’t suppose I can get out of it.” He was clearly nervous. “The nearest Anvil of the Soul is in the mountains, held by the giant monks of Rindor.”
“The giant —”
“— monks of Rindor.”
“I have never heard of them.”
He laughed. “You haven’t spoken much with legendarians, have you?”
“I— I haven’t spoken much with anyone.”
He laughed again, or perhaps it was a continuation. Ruben was still the smilingest, laughingest person Thorn had ever met, by far. Not that he had many people to compare the bard to. It was a bit unnerving.
“Well, of course, that doesn’t surprise me, now that I come to think of it. You are Forged, after all. I’m surprised you’ve spoken with anyone at all.”
Thorn gritted his teeth. It was true, of course; but simply because it was true, didn’t mean that he liked to hear it.
“Tell me about these monks,” he said.
“Well, I only know what I’ve heard, as I said,” said the bard. “I can’t do much research in the dark. They’re giant, for one thing.”
“So I gathered.”
“And they live in Rindor. Do you know where Rindor is?”
“In the mountains to the north?”
“Yes, of course.” He stopped and peered at Thorn for a moment in the dark. “How did you know?”
Thorn rolled his eyes. “It was an educated guess, based on the direction we are headed. Never you mind,” he said, “just tell me whatever you know about them. Are they dangerous?”