The Silver Claw

by Erik Williamson

  No, Brie decided, it was not too early to wake Jes. She resisted the urge to check her hands for blood and strode into the dark, chill night—Emmie’s scream still echoing inside her head. She just hoped it wasn’t too late.

  XXXI - The Old North Road

  Alixa marched them at a merciless pace. The first day was spent churning southeast through a basin clear-cut towards Alixa’s ‘perfect’ encampment. By the time they arrived at the beech-shaded clearing, their bodies were too sore to care.

  On day two, they left the open terrain, plunging down a winding, inconsistent trail that took them east through dense forest filled with hanging vines. For three days, Emmie and Renn could do little more than keep their heads down and arms up, plowing forward as they strained to match Alixa’s furious pace. That opportunity for Emmie to broach their unbeknownst-to-them courtship status, never presented itself.

  And that was before day five saw their path deteriorate into a brutal snaggle of prickly bushes and thickets. Alixa prided herself on her impeccable ranger abilities and losing a trail, albeit through no fault of her own, rankled her.

  “Map!” Face beaded with sweat, Alixa thrust her open palm towards Emmie.

  “We there already?” Emmie panted, hands on knees.

  “This look like mountains to you? Just gimme the damn map!”

  When Emmie produced it, Alixa snatched it away and glared at it for a few seconds. She slid two fingers slowly over a section around the middle, growled a string of quiet curses, and shoved it back to Emmie. “Now keep up, will you?”

  Renn and Emmie quickly adopted the best practice of asking no questions and giving her ample space to fume. Rather, they focused on buoying each other’s spirits by trying to stump the other on their knowledge of mammals and birds, flora and fauna.

  While they distracted themselves, Alixa subtly changed course, nudging their path incrementally north and west. After three brutal days in the snarly thickets, Renn was startled when he stumbled back onto the mainway. Alixa stood in the middle of the road, calmly dusting herself off. Renn surveyed the unexpected development incredulously while he waited for Emmie to join them; she rarely could keep up and was still entangled on the sorry path they had been trodding. Judging by his rudimentary ability to gauge position by the sun, Renn guessed they were only slightly north of their embarkation point. Hearing Emmie fighting her way through the underbrush, almost to the road, Alixa set off north.

  “Alixa, explain!” Shoving best practices aside, Renn dumped his gear and sat down. “One week and we’re practically where we started? You have any idea what you’re doing?”

  “What do you know, Longar?” Alixa adjusted her bow, her sword, her daggers and truncheons, before advancing on Renn. “Shut up and do as I say.”

  “You’re the guide, yah. . .” A dirty, sweaty Emmie emerged. “This is your world. . . but it’s a fair question,” she yelled, jabbing her finger back at the trees. “We deserve to know where we are, where we’re going, and what that was.”

  “You deserve?”

  “Yes,” Renn replied.

  “Yah,” Emmie added, finger still jabbing at the snarl of forest. “We do.”

  Alixa’s fingers quietly curled around one of her truncheons. She checked herself; quieted her anger. Or maybe it was her ego. What would be served in pitting herself against these kids? She’d surely win, but she didn’t really want their animosity. And she needed their map. She couldn’t bring herself to admit either to them. She appraised the grimy-faced younger girl, still working to catch her breath.

  “Look, kiddos.” She mockingly replicated Emmie’s pointing finger. “That would’ve been the safest, most direct route. Heading straight to Winnepaca. I’ve heard your whisper-whisper-whispering about the lake. You’re nowhere near as sneaky as you think, got it? From there we could’ve hooked. . .” Alixa licked her lips. “. . .over to the map’s location. Or south to your precious Vale. Trail’s gone to seed, though. So, no such luck.”

  “Thank you,” Emmie said. “That helps.”

  Alixa snorted and turned away.

  “Alixa, we know you’re doing your best. I trust you. Renn does too.”

  When no one else spoke, Emmie shot Renn a demanding look.

  “Right,” Renn grunted. Emmie gave him the stink-eye. “Oh, fine. Yes, I trust you, Alixa. You’re a wonderful guide.”

  It was less than believable but Emmie figured she’d get no better. “If you’d simply include us beforehand. . .”

  “This ain’t no democracy, Sheep. I know this place, you don’t.”

  “Whatever, fine—so we’re back on the road,” Renn said. “Now where?”

  Alixa gazed up the road. Heading north could mean the Witch. The Wolf. Bounties on Bandu. Those abominations of birds. Alixa wanted nothing to do with heading north. Except for where that damned map could lead her.

  “North,” Alixa grunted, refused to elaborate, and set to lighting a fire for the night. Studying their surly guide, Emmie wouldn’t have been surprised if Alixa might be able to induce fire with nothing but her smoldering eyes.

  Out of the thickets and back on open road, Renn and Emmie could almost keep up with Alixa, who took to intermittently and tersely explaining their surroundings. They accepted this as an unspoken gesture of peace and were entranced by Alixa’s abundant knowledge. They learned much about the northern frontier lands, and indirectly about their moody guide.

  After days of trudging north through scenery that didn’t seem to change, one late afternoon, with Alixa scowling even more exuberantly than usual, she stopped abruptly in the middle of the road.

  “You keep looking off into the trees. Up the road. Everywhere.” Emmie had intently chronicled Alixa’s increasingly agitated demeanor for miles. “What’s bugging you?”

  Renn kept quiet, not seeing any difference. Wasn’t something bugging Alixa every minute of every day?

  “Good eye,” Alixa replied, almost sounding impressed. “I’ll show you how I’m reading. . .” Alixa waved off Emmie’s hopeful expression. “Later, you silly Sheep. I need to run ahead, check out. . .” Alixa flexed her hand. “You two stay together, go your own pace.”

  “Not going to complain about that,” Renn said. “But should we be worried?”

  “Enjoy a little Sheep time, Longar. Crabby old me out of the way.” Alixa bared a sharp grin as she trotted off. “You and your pretty girl, alone in the woods. Take advantage this time.”

  Emmie’s heart began pounding. Take advantage. Emmie felt as though Alixa had pointed one long accusatory finger at her. She’d told herself she best wait to talk to Renn until they were alone, which was convenient since Alixa was never far off. Even when she and Renn had a little time, it was always only a little time. Never enough to broach a subject like their arranged betrothal, somebody planning on them spending their lives together. Sleeping in the same bed. Probably having a couple kids. Emmie shook her hands and head, trying to shake off the nerves those images induced. Alixa had already scampered far ahead. Emmie was out of excuses. She pulled her pack around to her front, feeling more than a little nauseous, rummaging down into the interior pockets.

  “Crabby old Alixa, indeed. That woman’s a piece of work.” Renn stared up the road as Alixa disappeared in the distance. “Not complaining about some time without her. We haven’t really talked since the inn. How you holding up? I mean, really-really?”

  “Rennwinn?” Emmie paused to calm herself. “I, I have something. . . you need to see.”

  She produced the two envelopes, handed him the unopened one.

  “Wow, you do calligraphy? And, hey, my name is on it.” Renn scrunched his forehead up. “Wait, I saw this when I went to get Alixa more booze.”

  “Ah, Renn, I’m sorry!” Emmie covered her face. “I shouldn’t have. I mean, I didn’t mean to keep it from you. There’s been no good time to—”

  Renn held his hand up. Emmie fell silent, her shoulders stooped. She could hardly watch him open the card. He
read it, blinked, then read it again. He looked at Emmie, stunned.

  “You know what this is?” Renn read it again.

  “Yah, I get the gist.”

  “You know what this means?”

  “Yes, Renn.” Emmie tugged at her hair, averting her eyes. “I do.”

  “When did you know?”

  “Not till we got to the basin! I swear! I found mine that morning, on the beach.” Emmie’s words gushed out, her arms gesturing wildly. “That night, we needed to focus on Alixa. Then in the room. . . I just couldn’t. . . next day, on the roof, I tried, kind of. After that. . . well, it’s never just us.” She was on the verge of tears. “Don’t hate me. Please. I didn’t mean to hide it. I mean, not like that. I shouldn’t have—”

  “Relax.” Renn swallowed, holding up the card. “You know what this is?”

  “Third time, Renn—yes.” Emmie hung her head. “Maybe you should hate me. It was wrong not to show you. I was scared.”

  “I understand. Believe me.” Renn frowned. “Uh, what were you afraid of?”

  “I am afraid you’ll say no.” Emmie felt very small. “And want nothing to do with me.”

  The next line in her head was and I’m afraid you’ll say yes. But that was way too sticky. And she couldn’t bear to relive all that. What was right here, staring Emmie in the face, was something too important to her to risk.

  “You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.” Emmie forced herself to meet Renn’s eyes, her own frightened eyes looking devastated. “Dumb, yah? What’s it been, a month, two? I don’t want to lose that.”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I know how it is. It’s one thing to even be friends with somebody like me.” Emmie seemed to shrink as she spoke. “But to. . . you know. . . with somebody like me.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You gonna make me say it?” Emmie’s chin trembled. “Wheat-head. Stone-eyes. Northern filth.” Her eyes teared up, remembering a lifetime of insults. “Fool’s gold. Yellow trash. . .”

  “Emmie, please, don’t.” He gently placed his hands on her shoulders. “And, well. . . this is... this might be. . .”

  It was on the tip of Renn’s tongue: the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Two things happened at once to stop him. For one, his bashfulness finally recovered from the wonderful shock, warning ‘You can’t say that to a girl! Way too forward!’

  Secondly, as Renn stammered to complete the sentence, he caught sight of what had to be Alixa rushing towards them, unbelievably low to the ground, her footfalls and breathing so quiet they hadn’t heard her approach. “Is that Alixa?”

  “Yah. . .” Emmie blinked numbly, wondering what Renn was about to say. “Why is she running like that?”

  “How is she running like that?”

  “Into the ditch!” Alixa seethed. “Ditch–idiots–now!”

  Bewildered, they didn’t move. When Alixa reached them, she threw their packs off the road and forced them both down under some bushes obscured in the ditch.

  “Alixa, what—” Renn began to ask.

  “Shut up and listen good.” She pointed hurriedly. “You: behind these brambles. Sheep: brambles and rock. I’ve got the other side.” She seized their packs and, along with her own, stuffed them under the shrubs in front. “Get low. Push yourself under the ground if you can.”

  “Alixa—” Emmie opened her mouth.

  Alixa clamped it right back shut, squeezing Emmie’s cheeks. “I am not dying because you talk too much! Nobody so much as bats an eyelash without my say so! Now, shut up.”

  They gawked at her, Emmie fingering the bruises left by Alixa’s fingertips.

  “Be still and silent in thirty seconds,” Alixa hissed. “Got it?”

  “Yes, but, Alixa, you’re scaring me.”

  “Good!” Alixa pushed her bulging eyes within inches of Emmie’s. “Down. Both of you.”

  They obeyed without hesitation. A minute, then two, crawled by excruciatingly slowly.

  “Here it comes,” Alixa murmured.

  Then they heard it too. Hoof beats, galloping towards them. Renn and Emmie pushed their faces into the shrubs. Horses blasted past. Alixa had allowed herself the smallest crack to peer out of. Three massive horses, carrying cloaked riders, all in black, stormed by, shaking the ground. Alixa saw what she wanted to see—not what she wanted, but what she needed to and feared she would: each horse bore the crisp black outline of a wolf’s head branded on its side: Lone Mountain patrols. She could feel Emmie shaking next to her.

  “Stop!” Alixa hissed like a quiet snake.

  Emmie squeezed her eyes shut, dug her fingernails into her palms till they bled. Alixa kept them down for what seemed an eternity before she broke the silence. She would scout the area and return with the all-clear.

  “If I don’t come back. . .” Alixa chewed her lip. “Stay down until morning. Go south, maybe fifty miles. Off the road but never far. Get back to Baerd.”

  “You serious?” Renn gaped.

  “Quiet.” Somehow Alixa could speak while hardly making a sound. “If they didn’t see me—and trust me, if I don’t want to be seen, I’m not—they’re long gone. If they did see me. . . well, they only saw one, didn’t they? You two stay down.”

  She was gone nearly two hours. Renn and Emmie stayed face-down in the dirt, minds racing but unable to come up with any explanation. When at last she returned, they raised their heads to pitch darkness.

  “No fire tonight.” Alixa motioned them further off the road. “I’m taking no chances.”

  They settled in underneath the base of a hollowed fallen tree. All three, somberly packed tightly close together.

  “Alixa, what was that?” Renn asked.

  “Can’t say for certain.” Not for sure maybe, Alixa thought darkly, but within a hair of certainty. After a long pause, she continued. “Lone Mountain patrol, probably. We’re staying off the road.”

  For Renn and Emmie, the Lone Mountain was a specter from ancient history. That they were threatened by it now seemed inconceivable. The gravity of the situation sunk in slowly.

  “You were amazing.” Emmie, eager for some positivity, finally broke the silence. “How’d you know they were coming, miles off like that?”

  “That was impressive,” Renn added. “You saved our lives.”

  “You wanted a guide.” Alixa sniffed. Even in the wan moonlight, a satisfied smile was evident at the corners of her lips.

  “I think we got the best in the Westerlunds,” Emmie gushed.

  “Whatever, Sheep. Stuff the mush and turn in. Change of plans. Tomorrow, we leave the road, this time for good.”

  They nodded and laid down, neither objecting nor so much as questioning her judgment.

  After she was sure Emmie and Renn were out, Alixa stealthily popped open Emmie’s bag and fished around until she found the map. As she kept vigil in the pitch-black night for any whisper of disturbance, she ran her fingers over the rough oxskin surface. If she hoped it would bring her solace, she was sorely mistaken. Rather, every time her fingers brushed the three punctures near the upper right corner, each one felt like a knife to her heart.

  She quickly returned the map to precisely where she’d found it, then pinched the bridge of her nose until she willed her heartache away. Alixa returned to stewing over what she’d just seen. Riders from the Mountain, this far south, this close to the basin? And the brand on the horses. The Wolf. . . a name that had plagued her since witnessing her first cold-blooded murder as a child. His riders were prowling around her again.

  XXXII - The Lone Mountain

  Cli-cli-click. Cli-cli-click. Cli-cli-click.

  Long, sharp fingernails beat an impatient rhythm. Flames leapt high from six open braziers, lighting the black marble floor, obscuring the walls in darkness, and casting harsh dancing shadows throughout the room. The only natural lighting came from a tall window behind the throne, illuminating the impatient figure seated upon it.

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nbsp; Cli-cli-click. Cli-cli-click. Cli-cli-click.

  She gazed out the window. Haddurah took no particular joy in darkness and shadows. She would much prefer it bright and white, like her grandfather’s great hall long ago. Soon enough, she soothed herself, that Lobridium throne room would be her own. The huge doors swung open. Her eyes narrowed to dark slits. But it would have been so much sooner if this fool had done her job.

  A woman in wrist and ankle shackles was led in by four guards. They forced her to kneel on the square before the throne. One seized her hair clasps, tumbling her raven-black hair down her shoulders. She kept her eyes levelled at the throne’s footstone, straining to appear composed. The quickened breathing from the nostrils of her thin nose and the tension in her jaw muscles gave her away.

  “Lomuir.” Haddurah filled her voice with silky death. “Care to explain?”

  “I am unaware how I’ve displeased you,” Lomuir said, eyes still down. “Please, m’lady, tell me my alleged transgressions that I may clear my name.”

  “Recall for me the capture and death-sacrifice of the princess at the lake.”

  “Just as I told you that day,” Lomuir answered, genuine confusion in her voice. She had Danzius eliminated within days of their return but Haddurah would not be upset with that. Despite some inconsequential oversights, she’d done her job. The pathetic wretch was dead.

  “Describe our princess.”

  “One-and-a-half, perhaps two years of age.” Lomuir tilted her head, recalling. “A whiny, shrill thing. With all the tells I was told to look for.”

  “All the tells, you say?” Haddurah cocked her head. Then lazily flicked her hand. “Continue.”

  “I followed the traitor’s intelligence precisely. The neighborhood in the southern town was a match. The military father posing as an easterner. Their direction and means of flight.” Some of Lomuir’s fire returned. “She had the amulet. Her bodyguards fought like berserkers, to the death. I was, as always, painstakingly thorough! It was her.”