Cast in Secrets and Shadow

by Andrea Robertson

  We would have been lost here forever.

  Ara became disoriented. The jungle canopy, in its endless shades of green, hid the sky. She had no sense of direction and a likewise uncomfortable relationship with time. She found it difficult to track the sun’s progress through the day. Hunger was the only thing that hinted to her what the hour might be.

  As they walked, conversations were stunted. Perhaps it was because of Joar’s presence and their decision to keep the full nature of this journey to themselves, or that the narrow path forced them to walk single file, but Ara suspected it had more to do with the way they were captives within a net of trees and vines, or possibly captivated by the myriad sights and sounds all around them. The song of the jungle fascinated Ara. Birds, insects, monkeys, and creatures she could not name poured their calls out ceaselessly. With every trill and whistle, she wondered what creature this or that voice belonged to.

  Joar’s oil worked as promised, keeping insects at bay, though Ara didn’t notice an abundance of them.

  She still wasn’t certain of the time when Joar stopped walking. He looked up, then turned in a slow circle, keeping his eyes on the forest canopy.

  A moment later, he said, “We camp here.”

  It was earlier in the day—at least Ara thought—than she’d expected to stop and make camp. She took in their surroundings, trying to discover what made this particular spot suitable for camping. The trail was slightly less overgrown, but there was nothing resembling a clearing or a place to set up tents. Not that they had tents.

  Joar took off his pack, opened it, and pulled out three tightly rolled bundles of fabric.

  “I will show you how we will sleep,” he said.

  He shook out one of the bundles, which separated into two pieces. He picked up the larger piece, unrolling it along the path. It was leaf-shaped, wide in the middle and narrowing at each end, and longer than Joar if he’d lain beside it.

  Leaning down, he found a seam in the middle of the fabric and opened it to show the hollow inside.

  “You rest in here,” he told them, “like seeds in a pod. Or a caterpillar in a cocoon.”

  Lahvja crouched beside the pod. “I’ve heard of this, but never seen it. They’re woven from plant fibers, yes?”

  Joar nodded. “A weave tight enough to keep water out, but allowing one to breathe. They are very useful.”

  “What do you have against tents?” Teth asked, half joking.

  “Tents take up too much space,” Joar answered. “And in heavy rain they flood. These will not.”

  He picked up the pod and stretched it between two trees, tying it off with ropes so that it was suspended about five feet from the ground.

  “So it’s basically a covered hammock,” Teth commented.

  “It is much more useful than a hammock,” Joar replied. “Hammocks are for leisure.”

  “What’s wrong with leisure?”

  Joar ignored him and continued, “After you climb inside you will need to button the flaps at the end of the pod to close yourself in. If you do not, curious snakes might visit in the night.”

  “What a pleasant thought,” Teth murmured.

  “We’ve had enough of snakes,” Ara said to him quietly.

  He winked at her. “Isn’t that the Twins’ truth.”

  Taking the second piece of fabric, Joar stretched it between four limbs and secured it a foot above the cocoon, creating a barrier between the forest canopy and the sleeping pod.

  “You will be protected from rain.”

  The concept is sound enough, thought Ara, despite the disconcertingly organic appearance of the pods. And it can’t be that different from the way we slept on the ship.

  “I could afford the space for only three,” Joar told them as he shook out the other bundles. “You will have to share.”

  Ara glanced quickly at her companions. There was no missing the sudden tension.

  Sharing would be very different from the way they’d slept on the ship.

  Meeting Teth’s eyes, a flurry of emotions coursed through her mind. Hope. Fear. Desire. Trepidation.

  It was Nimhea who spoke first. “If Lahvja is amenable, I’ll share the sleeping cocoon with her.”

  Lahvja’s eyes widened slightly.

  Nimhea blushed, then said quietly, “Only if you like.”

  Pressing her lips together, Lahvja only hesitated a moment before saying, “Yes.”

  Nimhea’s blushed deepened, and a small smile crept onto her lips. “Good.”

  “Yes, good.” Joar looked at Ara and Teth. “You will share the other cocoon.”

  Neither Ara nor Teth answered.

  Joar frowned at them. “Do you not wish to share? I would offer a place in my cocoon, but I take up too much space for another to sleep there.”

  “It’s fine,” Ara told. “We can share.”

  Her heart was sputtering with joy and panic.

  “Then it is settled,” Joar said, and continued setting up the other two cocoons.

  Teth sidled up to Ara, murmuring, “Are you sure about this?”

  His hand rested lightly on the small of her back, sending tendrils of heat through her limbs.

  “Do you want to separate Nimhea and Lahvja?” Ara replied, dodging the question while at the same time working to keep her voice from trembling. His fingers began to make small circles at the base of her spine.

  Withdrawing his hand, Teth gave a little bow and said, “Whatever my lady wishes.”

  It was his slow smile that sent a thrilling shiver.

  When Joar had finished hanging the cocoons, he said, “There is a task you must complete while I am gone.”

  “Gone?” Nimhea said with disbelief.

  Joar continued, “Build a large fire, large enough for two spits. You will find dry kindling in my pack. The fire will keep predators at bay, and we will need it to roast the meat.”

  “What meat?” Lahvja asked.

  Joar smiled and signaled to Huntress. The wolf bounded into the jungle. “I will return soon.”

  He melted into the dense green a moment later, though to Ara it seemed impossible that he could disappear so completely and silently, given his size.

  * * *

  The only person who hadn’t built a wet-wood fire was Nimhea, which irked the princess no end. She and Ara collected fallen wood while Teth set about constructing two greenwood spits. Lahvja had gone into the jungle in search of medicinal plants that could only be found in Vijeri.

  “I don’t understand why my Ethrian trainers didn’t teach me any survival skills,” Nimhea muttered while they gathered deadfall.

  Ara was careful to check for crawling things before picking up a log. “I think they must have imagined you living with the rebels, not trekking through the jungle.”

  Nimhea was silent, then said, “I don’t want to admit it, but I understand I was being handed off from one group of protectors to another. Neither my friends on the isles nor the Resistance wanted me to live outside of their bounds.”

  “That’s only because you’re important,” Ara said. “They want to keep you safe.”

  Nimhea gave her a sharp look. “I think if I hadn’t insisted on being trained as a fighter, they would have been happy to ply me with jewels and silk dresses. That’s what their idea of a queen is. I’m pretty sure the only reason they let me have my way is because a girl who can swing a sword might be more inspiring to a conquered people than a pampered princess. But they never wanted me to actually fight. And you saw how the Resistance reacted when I chose to join the Loresmith on her quest instead of remaining with them.”

  “The kings and queens of Saetlund haven’t been warriors for decades,” Ara replied with a sigh. “It’s fair that the Resistance would have . . . underwhelming expectations of you.”

  “Underwhelming.” Nimhea laughe
d bitterly, but her eyes were sad. “Do you think anyone believes I can be something other than a figurehead?”

  “I do.”

  Nimhea held Ara’s gaze for several moments, as if waiting for her to qualify her answer.

  “Thank you,” the princess said softly.

  “Of course.”

  * * *

  As dusk set in, the true value of Joar’s body oil revealed itself. While there had only been some insects flying around them during the day, the evening air was alive with buzzing creatures. The drone their masses created was a constant reminder of their presence and their wish to swarm over the bodies of the campers.

  “That sound could drive you mad,” Ara remarked as she and Teth balanced the deadwood in a ring around the kindling.

  He grimaced. “Yes, it could.”

  Nearby, Lahvja was sorting through the many plants she’d foraged. “Try not to think about it. Or pretend it’s music.”

  “Okay,” Teth replied, waiting a beat. Then he said, “I don’t like this music.”

  Lahvja laughed.

  “If it makes you feel better, I’m not enjoying the music either,” Nimhea said.

  She’d been watching Ara and Teth work at building a fire in wet conditions.

  “You light the kindling,” Ara told the princess. “Then you have to keep feeding it. Eventually the small fire will dry the logs, and they will catch.”

  “Do you want to try your hand at the next fire?” Teth asked. “I’ll oversee your work.”

  Nimhea gave him an irritated look. “I’ll build the second fire. I don’t know that I need you to oversee.”

  “We’ll find out.” Teth grinned at her.

  The princess’s first attempt at arranging the deadfall collapsed onto the kindling. She shot a warning glare at Teth before he could say anything. He returned her look with a bland smile.

  The second time, Nimhea stacked the wood correctly, and before long two large campfires were burning under the greenwood spits.

  Not long after, they heard rustling from the trees. Joar emerged with Huntress at his heels. He had a deer slung over his shoulders, but it was unlike any deer Ara knew. From head to tail it was blanketed in green.

  When he laid the deer on the ground, Lahvja eyed the large beast critically. “We don’t have the means to preserve the meat. It’s a shame that some will go to waste.”

  Joar gave a dismissive grunt. “There will be nothing left but the hide and head, and the creatures of the jungle will make use of that.”

  Ara came over to take a closer look. She could see the deer’s brown hair peeking through the green in places, but only a few. Curious, she reached out and touched the strange substance. It was springy and slightly damp under her hand.

  “Is this moss?” Ara asked Joar.

  Joar nodded. “This is a moss deer, common to the jungles of Vijeri. And this type of moss only grows in a moss deer’s hair. The moss helps the deer by camouflaging it from hunters, and the deer helps the moss by giving it a place to live. When I learn these secrets of nature, I am comforted. I know that no matter how humanity destroys itself, nature will go on.”

  “Tell me how that’s comforting,” said Teth.

  “Nature does not seek to hurry its own end, whereas humans always chase their doom,” Joar answered. “Though I’ve kept myself apart from people as much as I could these past years, I hear news from villages of barren fields and empty stores. I’ve seen the result of humans’ slashing and burning—the Gash. And I hear of suffering. People’s suffering caused by other people.”

  He looked down at the glassy-eyed deer. “There is blood and death in nature, but not the greed nor the sadism that thrives in the human heart. I would sooner see the wilderness survive than people.”

  “But Saetlund wasn’t always like this,” Nimhea objected. “Before the conquest—”

  Joar raised his hand. “It is always easier to lay the blame at someone else’s feet. My adoptive father taught me the history of this land. Saetlund was already corrupted and on the same path as the Vokkans; the empire was simply faster.”

  Nimhea looked away.

  “Maybe,” Ara said. “But Nimhea is right; before the rule of succession and the dynasty, Saetlund thrived and its people lived in peace as the gods directed.”

  “That was so long ago it does not matter,” Joar said with a heavy sigh.

  “For all our sakes, I hope you’re wrong,” she replied.

  She held Joar’s gaze for several moments. He was the first to look away.

  The deer had already been dressed, and now he knelt beside the beast and began to butcher it. He first carved several choice pieces and tossed them to Huntress, who wagged her tail in thanks. Soon her silver-white muzzle was bloodied, a sight that was more than a little unnerving.

  There is blood and death in nature. Joar’s words left Ara shaken, but she couldn’t believe all humanity was inherently wicked. If what Joar said was true, then the Loresmith quest would be pointless. But the gods themselves had sent her on this journey. Unlike Joar, the gods had not condemned all humanity, and neither would she.

  Lahvja came to Joar’s side with her satchel of herbs, and the two of them fell into deep discussion about the best ways to season venison. It became evident that Joar relied on foraging local fresh herbs and roots to flavor his meals, and Lahvja was eager to chat about the flora of her homeland and its culinary properties, introducing him to edible plants he wasn’t familiar with.

  Soon both spits were full of skewered meat, and fat dripped into the burning wood, sizzling and crackling. They took turns rotating the spits and tending the fire.

  Ara turned to Joar. “How did you come to believe what you do about people and nature? You said you’re on a quest for Wuldr.”

  “My journey is sacred,” Joar told her.

  She perked up with interest, wanting to know more, but without giving away too much about her own quest.

  “How did this quest come about?” Ara asked.

  Joar went silent.

  From where he turned a spit, Teth quipped, “I guess you’re forbidden to talk about it.”

  Regarding Teth for a moment, Joar said, “No.”

  “Then by all means share,” Teth said. “Our dinner isn’t going to be ready for a while.”

  “Very well.” Joar settled in beside Huntress, who rested her head in his lap. He scratched behind her ears absentmindedly as he spoke.

  “On the eve of my tenth birthday I had a dream. I sat before a fire not unlike this one. Wuldr and Senn sat beside me.”

  Ara shivered, recalling her own dream about Wuldr and his massive hound hunting in the forests of Fjeri.

  “Wuldr looked at me,” he continued, “and asked two questions: ‘What does your heart want most? What does your soul long for?’ My reply: ‘To serve you and to find my true home.’ I loved the Fjerian family who raised me, but my spirit was restless and could not settle.

  “Wuldr said, ‘The wild and hidden places of this land, those places most feared by mortals, hold the key to your happiness. Your journey will be long and your trials many, but I will be with you in the hunt.

  “ ‘When you wake, tell your family what I have said. They are my children and will understand why you must go.’ ”

  He gazed at the flames, lost in memories. “Wuldr was right. My father only asked that I wait until he had forged me an ax for my journey and that I would one day return it to him.”

  “Your father was a blacksmith,” Ara said quietly.

  She and Teth exchanged a look. Nimhea had been focused on feeding the fires, but she paused in her work to listen more closely to Joar.

  “On the day the ax was finished, I bade my father farewell and went into the mountains,” Joar continued.

  Startled, Ara said, “You went into the wilderness alone when
you were only ten?”

  “For Koelli, ten years is a child’s coming of age,” Joar explained. “I believe that is why Wuldr came to me on that occasion.”

  She shot a worried look at Teth.

  He shrugged. “When I was ten I was already a full-fledged—” He cast a wary glance at Joar before he continued. “Artisan.”

  Nimhea snorted at his choice of word.

  Ignoring her, Teth turned his attention to Joar.

  “You started with the mountains? I take it you’re not one for easing into a sacred journey. ’Cause you went full bore.”

  Joar chortled. “That may be true for most people, but the mountains were familiar to me, and I do not balk at snow and cold.”

  “I take it you had more clothes then.” Nimhea smirked from where she crouched beside the fires.

  Joar didn’t react except to say, “Wherever I have gone, I have worn the clothing most suited to its climes.”

  Chagrined, Nimhea ducked her head and said, “Fair enough.”

  “Most Vijerians wear silks that breathe in the heat,” Lahvja interjected. “I know none who’ve adopted your bare-skinned style.”

  Joar cleared his throat, and Ara spotted a blush washing over his pale cheeks. “I did try to dress as Vijerians do. But the wraps and knots were too frustrating. I gave up.”

  Lahvja stared at him, waiting for him to say he was jesting. When he failed to, her eyes sparkled with mirth, but she simply nodded and said, “Please continue your story.”

  “I spent two years in the Mountains of the Twins, learning the patterns of nature and how to survive all its moods. During that time, I met Huntress, and she became my companion. From there I went to the Fjeri Lowlands because to the east are Kelden and Sola, where the wild places have been turned into orchards, farms, and grazing lands. As before, I passed the next two years in the lowland forests. As the time to depart drew close, a fellow traveler crossed my path and asked to share the safety of my campfire. When I agreed and also offered him food and drink, he revealed himself to be a bard and asked to pay for my hospitality with grand tales.