“I-I don’t know that I can take this,” he protested.
But she went on, ignoring his words, “I’ve diminished. I am limited to seeing what might be,” her eyes crinkled here, her mouth twisting sardonically, “and offering love advice. And,” her gaze fell to what she held. “This.”
Setting down her staff, she took his left hand in hers. He watched, alarmed, when the band opened of its own accord. Instinctively, he pulled back, but her grip tightened, gaze focused on his wrist. There wasn’t any threat there, so he made himself sit still. In moments it was done and as he turned his wrist to examine it, he could not see a seam or a way to remove it. Was it permanent?
She must have followed his thoughts. “Don’t worry. If you truly want it gone, you need only wish it.” Her voice took on a note of warning. “But once undone, it cannot be remade.”
She continued, her voice pleased. “It won’t wield a sword for you, but it will offer you some protection.” He was about to respond, unsure of what to say, when she tilted her head to one side again, this time as if she were listening to something. Theron shifted, wondering if he should check to see that she was all right. But she blinked suddenly, her eyes refocusing on him. “Oh! You’ve stayed too long. If you leave now, you might still make it back undiscovered.”
Thoughts of expressing his gratitude forgotten, his brows drew together. “What do you mean?”
“Quickly. You must go.” She reached out, taking a grip on his shoulders and pushing, ignoring the sound of protest he made. He had more questions, had hoped to gain more insight into Lynea’s fate, hoped to understand what purpose this odd gift had for him. She read the reasons for his hesitation as if he’d voiced them. “Do not worry. I will make the arrangements I promised. I will also do what scrying I can. If the gods are with us, you will have answers soon.”
The words had their intended effect. He turned to leave, the strange woman’s sense of urgency infecting him. When he saw Ash standing next to the porch, waiting impatiently for him, he clambered into the saddle and rode his way over to the path.
The trail that had been so overgrown during the ride in was inexplicably clear now, so much that he didn’t have to dismount to pass through. He didn’t look back until he was far into Kikino Woods, and by then he couldn’t see through the trees and brush to the cottage. It actually looked as though the path had closed up behind him.
Kitsune watched him leave, her bright smile fading to bittersweet. She laid the staff against the patio. “Fair winds, my Protector.”
A gravelly old voice said, “He’ll need much more than that, my dear. He is the same as he ever was.”
Kitsune smiled. “Koke no Hi-ge will help him.”
A rusty cackle greeted that information. “Moss beard? That old spirit will only help him grow even angrier.”
“Possibly,” she said, then smiled ruefully, amending, “Probably. But that old spirit will also give him a glimpse of the true horror he faces.”
“And that will help him. How?”
Not deigning to reply (there was no use trying to reason with her, when Grandmother was like this), Kitsune instead looked over her shoulder, black hair moving softly. “Kit,” she called softly. She turned around when she sensed that he was near. “Ah, what have you been into?” she sighed, as the child trotted up to her, his face and clothing streaked with dirt and his hair caked in it. With an affectionate shake of her head, she moved quietly to the far side of the room. She dipped the soft cloth she found there into a basin with rose-scented water. She went to the boy and with gentle hands, wiped away the worst of the filth from his face and neck, revealing pale, pale skin. She looked into eyes the crisp blue of a cloudless sky, eyes that were nearly a perfect match for hers.
Leaning over, she whispered in the child’s ear. When she pulled back, she looked into those uncanny eyes. He gazed back and nodded. The hinges on the front door creaked, the only noise he made as he left the tiny cottage, trotting past the well, down the path and into the dark of Kikino Woods.
The worried grumble of the old woman rumbled through the room. The sound of it softened the annoyance on the younger woman’s face. “I know Grandmother. We cannot fail this time.”
Kitsune smiled past the sadness in her heart. Her gaze lifted to the moon, clouds drifting by. “Yes, you are right,” the young woman admitted. “After all these years, so many lifetimes. He is the same.”
˜ ˜ ˜
Theron ignored the stinging whip of Ash’s mane across his face, leaning low over the withers of his horse. The heat rising from the animal’s neck was warm against his cheek. The Protector could hear the rough cadence to Ash’s breath. He was tiring. The only other sounds in the cold night were the rush of air going past and the pounding of hooves.
If he’d left Kitsune’s cottage just a few minutes earlier, maybe he wouldn’t be in this situation now. Or perhaps it was inevitable. Stories had long haunted this grim stretch of road, of travelers never returning home.
The shadow that darkened the moon’s glow briefly had been good fortune’s warning, or his own hyperactive paranoia. The glance to the night sky had shown the outline of wings across the face of the moon.
Good fortune or not, even with that warning there was a good chance he might be one that disappeared in the night.
He risked a look above him. The moonlight had dimmed with the drift of clouds and the blanket of night hid his pursuer. Now he could only hope his horse could run faster than that thing could fly. The pounding of his heart beat in time with Ash’s hooves, an ache and a reminder all at once that he was alone. But he was used to relying on himself. He’d known it was dangerous, traveling at night on this road. It was the quickest path to the Kikino Woods and so, the quickest route to Kitsune’s cottage.
He’d had to come tonight. The gnawing dread in his stomach after speaking with Hilma had only grown. He sensed he would not have the two weeks he’d expected with Lynea. A dark cloud was spreading in his mind, that told him time was not his friend.
He spurred the stallion to greater speed, pushing down the clench of guilt he felt for doing it. Now that he’d been there and back, he cursed his stupidity for taking the risk visiting Kitsune for what little he’d gained. A bracelet and a promise, for too much time in exchange. He’d been gone hours and now some monstrous thing was eager for a taste of him.
Once safely back at the palace he could turn the odd warnings over in his mind and riddle out what those infuriating women had told him. If he made it back. Cryptic words made by women who were … he still wasn’t clear on exactly what he’d seen. Women, witches, or something else. How had those women switched places so quickly? And those visions, gems and vines writhing around on staffs? Too many things he couldn’t explain and too few answers to his questions, so far. He glanced at the band around his wrist, wishing he knew what it was supposed to do for him. Hopefully, Kitsune would make good on her promise and guide him to those who could give him more information.
He was drawn from his worried thoughts as the flickering shadow fell into pace with them, much smaller and more distinguishable now as something that was wrong. There was an odd whistling sound accompanying it, unlike anything he’d ever heard before. Was that the flap of wings? Theron felt the cold clutch of fear. He thanked the gods that Ash was young, strong and fast. If the creature was flying out here in the open, the forest might protect them. They were out of Kikino Woods, but the surrounding area was still heavy with trees and the path he was following intersected them in another few hundred feet. “Come on, boy. It’s not much further.”
˜ ˜ ˜
Ria’s sleep was uneasy. Dreams of shadows, smoke and a woman’s scream. When she felt a flush of cold envelop her, she opened her eyes to the darkness of her tiny room. The weight of something left undone sat heavy in her chest, and for a moment it was hard to breathe. The image of the palace echoed in her memory. Pulling her hands free of the blanket, she lifted them to her face, trying to scrub the dream away
. Finally, her heart began to calm. She was in her room. Safe, and everything was fine.
She had bad dreams sometimes, had since childhood. Usually, she couldn’t wake from them, fighting murky figures and indistinct horrors until morning. And usually, forgetting all but a wonderful sample of terrifying, disjointed images to remember them by.
What had that chill been about? That had never happened before. She still felt it, chasing goosebumps across her skin, making her overly sensitive to the near oppressive heat in her small bedchamber.
She was thinking about getting up to open the window, when an insistent scratching sound pulled her attention to it. She frowned into the darkness, tugged off her blanket and got up.
Cautious at the window, she listened before opening the shutter. Again the sound came, a scritch of noise, like nails on wood. And this time, an urgent rapping. She opened the window. The moon was still out, nearly full and almost blinding after the darkness of her room. Her room fronted the Emperor’s woods, pushed back from the village just a few yards, wild and dark.
Looking down, Ria saw that her visitor was the little thief from the village that morning. The boy was not nearly so dusty as he had been earlier. His clothes were different and odd, tightly fitted to his form. They appeared to be made of some soft leather and it was hard to tell the color in this light, but looked like they might be brown. Those brilliant eyes nearly glowed, reflecting the starlight and as his eyes had been unusual earlier, so now was his hair. Before, she’d have said his hair was likely brown, but in her memory all she remembered was that he’d been covered in dirt. Now clean of it, she could see his hair was light, very light.
She opened her mouth to ask what brought him here so late – and how he could have known where she lived – when he suddenly reached up and took her hand, tugging urgently on it.
The sounds of the forest, a few yards beyond her window chirped and buzzed. It made Ria uneasy. More comfortable than most in the woods, even she knew that it was dangerous at night. People disappeared at night. Some said their souls were stolen. And if something more ominous did not get you, then the wolves did. Or you might stumble into the den of something poisonous or ill-tempered and you’d be dead as surely as if you’d been found by the wolves.
Shaking her head, she pulled her hand away. The boy’s forehead creased and he made to grab her hand again. Pulling it back quickly, she said, “I’m sorry, I’m not going out there. It’s not safe. Where is your family?”
Shaking his head, he reached for her again and again she pulled out of reach. “No,” she said again. “I said I’m not going with you.” He stomped his little foot and pointed in the direction of Eiji Forest. She frowned. He beckoned, pointing again at her and then at the woods.
“What is it?” This boy was infuriating. “Why won’t you speak?” The boy’s forehead creased and his lips drew down in a frown. It occurred to her then that maybe, he couldn’t. Just as she had this revelation, his eyes caught hers. He tugged at her shirt, almost forcing her to crouch, focusing on her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. That bizarre disorientation was back, much, much stronger than before. She swayed, grabbing at the windowsill to keep from falling, her breath going out of her in a rush. The room swirled around her and she would swear that she almost heard a voice, could almost see something but it fluttered just out of reach … and when she was finally able to catch her breath (and no longer thought she was going to fall over), she looked again at the forest. Something horrible had happened. This child needed her to go with him.
Biting her lower lip, she decided, hoping it wasn’t a mistake. Unlike the rest of the village, she had no family to call on for help. And no one anywhere nearby was likely to help her. Giving a resigned breath, she nodded. “All right. Wait here.”
Slipping quickly into soft boots and clothing better for the forest, she pulled together a few items. She had no idea what she might need, so she’d have to take her best guess. Candles. A flame striker and torch wood. A small knife she used for skinning (the only knife she had), for what little protection it offered. A water skin. Now she only needed a pack to hold it all in. Rummaging in the small trunk she’d gotten from her mother, she found an old leather bag, mostly empty but for a few items. Quickly, she stuffed her cache of supplies into it and threw the strap over her shoulder. Closing up her little house, she moved around the building where the boy waited. As soon as she laid eyes on him, he took off at a dead sprint into the trees, with Ria dashing to keep up.
Chapter 5
Theron chanced another look back when the moon brightened, clouds finally making their way across it.
It was bright enough to get a good look at what was chasing them, and he found himself wishing he hadn’t seen it at all. Pushing back a chill, he saw the thing was as large as a man, with a wingspan wider than Theron was tall. Its head and face looked a lot like the oni, the demons in stories kids whispered to scare each other. Like those demons, it was bald, with a broad, horned and protruding forehead. Only this thing had no nose, just slits where one should have been. Its eyes were shadowed in the too dim light, and he couldn’t take the time to get a better look. There were fangs, though. He couldn’t miss those. Jutting out at a lethal angle from thick lips, they were more than capable of tearing out his throat.
The odd whistling was constant now, behind and above them. It was the only other sound the Protector could hear, over the urgent pounding of Ash’s hooves.
The shadows of the Eiji Forest ahead loomed, too far away, a threat and a tease all at once. He could almost feel the creature gaining on them, could imagine talons tearing into his back. He risked a look up and it was right there, almost on top of them. They weren’t going to make the trees. Pulling his sword free, he twisted in his saddle, hoping to deflect its claws. It was all he could do not to pull back on the reins and turn to face the monster, but they were so close to the Emperor’s woods. Ash just needed a few more seconds.
As fast as Ash was, it was faster. The creature chose that moment to sweep down, clawed feet as large as a dinner plate reaching for Theron’s face. Heart in his throat, Theron threw his sword arm up, feeling metal bite into the fleshy part of its foot. He didn’t manage to cut the limb off, but he’d hurt it. The sword came back black, glistening wet in the moonlight. The creature jerked away, its mouth open in a silent scream.
Theron wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, but it was circling around, the whistle changing pitch as it banked to come at them again. It was fast, too fast. They were so close to the trees, but it was going to reach them again before they could get there. It swept down once more, going for the Protector’s torso. He moved his sword to counter it, but at the last moment it changed direction. In the glint of the moon, Theron recognized a malicious intelligence there.
The thing had planned the feint. That was more frightening than the idea the creature was hunting them only because they’d make a good meal. With a fluttering sound of leather, huge wings shifted and it swerved around to strike at Ash’s front. It hit them hard. Theron only had a horrifying glimpse of talons tearing at his horse before Ash stumbled, throwing him from the saddle.
The breath went out of him and he hit the ground. Trying to tuck and tumble out of the fall, and manage not to skewer himself on his own sword – maybe he should have dropped it, but he hung on. If he lost the sword, he might as well wait to be gutted. A dagger would be useless against this thing. He’d already seen claws at the joint of each wing. Without a weapon with some kind of reach, he wouldn’t stand a chance.
Rolling to his feet, he winced at the spike of pain in his hip. He’d landed badly, there was sure to be some nasty bruises to deal with later. If there was a later. Fearing for his horse, he looked back at the moonlit patch of road. He’d been thrown pretty far into the shadows of the tree line. The creature was on the ground, circling Ash on clawed feet. It darted forward, uneven on its wounded limb, snapping at his horse’s face. Its mouth was a grotesque thing, black edged, with
the curve of sharp canines seeming to smile. Too easily Theron could imagine them dripping with blood.
Ignoring the pain in his hip, the Protector ran forward. Ash reared, his front hooves striking once, twice. Theron heard it when they hit the creature and the bone in one of the wings snapped with a sharp crack. The creature jerked back and Ash followed, but the other wing swung forward, the claw catching his horse in the meat of his throat while the talons on its weakened foot tried to latch onto the stallion’s chest.
Finally, Theron was close enough. He swung the blade with an angry shout, steeling himself as it struck, but it glanced off and he had to twist awkwardly to stop from losing his grip on the weapon. He could see now. Most of the monster’s skin was ridiculously thick, like the armored shell of a turtle.
His weapon may not have hurt it, but the hit was enough to shock it. The creature released his horse with a whistling flutter of leather, turning to face the Protector. Ash stumbled and Theron’s heart lurched when his horse fell to its knees. He looked back at the thing, eying him warily, its lips drawing back in a snarl. Lifting his sword, he snapped, “You want me? Come get me.”
It understood the intent if not the words, darting forward frighteningly fast. Theron went left, looking for weakness in that thick hide, but he had moved too far into the tree line; he could barely see. He needed a better view. Pushing off the tree next to him, he launched himself further into the open road. There the moonlight finally showed him what he needed. It wasn’t completely armored.
Like the palace guards and what he himself wore, it was protected on its limbs, chest and back. By accident or design, its strengths and weakness matched his. He pivoted, ready to take advantage of it. He wasn’t quick enough to avoid the wing sweeping forward, with a whistle turned sharp as his only warning, catching him in the right shoulder. He felt the claw puncture the hardened leather plate, biting into muscle. Inhaling harshly, he yanked but failed to dislodge it. Instead, the creature’s momentum carried it forward. It leapt and Theron cried out when talons like knives bit through the leather on his side. Desperation brought his sword arm up, but with an almost chirping sound the broken wing flailed wildly, knocking the weapon from his hand. The grip on him tightened and it yanked him closer, into range of its fangs.
Splinter (Trapped Souls Book 1) Page 7
