She snapped a branch off a nearby bush and threw it at him. A thorn on it scratched her as she did it. “Ouch!” It wasn’t even a good throw. Aeden watched it as it went through the air and then fell three feet short of him.
“Hey, now,” he said. “Don’t break the vegetation when you don’t have to. It’s hard enough to keep from leaving a trail that might as well glow in the dark.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.” She was sorry, but he did deserve to be hit with a switch. Imagine that, being bug-proof.
“Truly, I don’t know why the insects aren’t bothering with me,” he said. “If it’s any consolation, though, these animaru are only interested in killing me. They leave you alone to try to accomplish it, so I think it’s more than fair.”
“I guess.” She slapped another bug that had landed on her cheek and started biting. “I guess.”
She looked at the crushed insect in her hand. It was long and thin with wings so fragile she could almost see through them. Taking a closer look, she saw it had some kind of sharp edge on its nose, almost like a needle. Is that what it was sticking into her to bite her? She shook it off into the vegetation at her feet. Disgusting thing.
After the first day of travel—an exhausting affair that they ended early—the three became a little more accustomed to how it would be. They took breaks whenever they found a place with objects they could sit on. Rocks, fallen trees, low branches, whatever they could use, they would stop and use them while they had the opportunity. Each night, they would make a small fire, confident that the light of it would not be seen for more than a few feet in the tangled mess, taking a chance that the smoke would not attract anything dangerous.
There were animals, of course. The normal variety. The birds were all dark and drab, blending in well with the surrounding. The rabbits and squirrels were darker than Fahtin was used to as well. She figured it was that way because the lighter-colored animals would have been eaten long ago, so the darker would be the dominant variety. They were able to trap or kill a few with their projectiles, and they tasted the same as any other of the animals she had ever eaten.
Aeden knew a lot about foraging for food. He dug up tubers and found berries where the other two never would have looked. He was a handy one to have around, that one. She smiled when she thought about it.
Thus far, though, they had not seen any kind of monsters, animaru or the legendary beasts of the Grundenwald. It could be that the myths were plain false, or it could be that they were still on the edge of the forest, where the monsters didn’t live. Fahtin hoped it was the former.
“Something is tracking us,” Aeden whispered to the others when they stopped for an afternoon break.
“Have you seen something?” Fahtin asked.
“No. It’s just a feeling, like the one I got when Raki was following us, but a little different. I think it might be the magic, though I don’t know enough about it to really know what it means.”
“Can you tell if it’s dangerous or not?” Raki asked.
“No. Just keep an eye out, especially when we set watches for the night.”
They had been keeping watch in shifts every night. Nothing dangerous had appeared, but the sounds when the forest grew dark were unsettling. It was obvious by the screeches, cries, growls, and screams that things other than rabbits, squirrels, and birds lived in the Grundenwald.
As they traveled, Aeden did his best to keep them on a path that would take them due west. The ancient forest, he explained, ran longer north to south, so crossing in a direct line from east to west would be the least amount of time they would have to spend in the trees. The trip across was still more than a hundred miles—it was more than two hundred traveling on the long axis—but it was the best they could do. If they had to be there, they had better try to be there for as short a period of time as possible.
The problem with navigation was that they rarely saw the sun through the canopy of branches thirty feet above the ground. There was nothing to do but to climb a tree, get above the obstruction, note the sun’s position, and readjust their course. As if it wasn’t bad enough trying to force their way through the tangled world they had entered.
Raki proved to be surprisingly talented at climbing. Or maybe it wasn’t so surprising. He was small, light, and agile, and he scampered up the trees as if he was some kind of monkey. Fahtin’s heart leapt every time he disappeared into a tree forty or fifty feet up. But he always came down, smiling as if playing a game, and telling Aeden where the sun was.
“Do you still feel that we’re being watched?” she asked Aeden a few days after he had mentioned it.
“Aye. It doesn’t feel different, no closer or farther, no more dangerous nor less. Just the same.”
The constant effort of the traveling, the bugs, worrying about trying to find enough food to eat, the chance that the creatures would find them—or something else would—and the thought that they were being tracked, all of it exhausted her. She felt like she was in a stewpot over a fire and that the water was heating up slowly. They were not boiling yet, but it was coming. She was sure of it.
The other two showed signs of the stress, too, though Raki did so more than Aeden. Both had dark circles under their eyes, and their attention didn’t seem altogether there. She wondered what she looked like, chastising herself for being concerned with appearance when there were so many other important things to think about. The trio made a pathetic sight, shuffling through the strange green and gray world they had entered.
They set up camp for the night in one of the rare small clearings they found. It allowed them to spread out and sleep around the fire they made, stretching to their full lengths. It was a luxury they had not had in several days.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Aeden said after looking at each of them carefully. There was concern in his eyes. Fahtin wouldn’t be surprised to wake in the morning and find that he had failed to rouse them to take their turns at watch. She thanked him and rolled herself in her cloak, setting it in her mind that she would wake up in a few hours to relieve him. He needed to sleep, too.
Her eyes came open and she looked around. How long had it been since she went to sleep? She could hear Raki’s soft breathing from the other side of the fire, which had been maintained to keep its light and warmth. It took a few minutes for her to spot Aeden, sitting on a small boulder off on the edge of the little clearing. She went to him.
“Hey,” she said. “How long has it been?”
“About four hours,” he said, still scanning the dark forest around them. Little slivers of moonlight and starlight filtered through the tree branches above and as they sat, her eyes became more accustomed to the darkness.
“Have you seen anything, sensed anything?” she asked.
“No. Even the animals seem quiet tonight. That concerns me. Anything out of the ordinary is probably not good. It’s as if everything is holding its breath.”
“Well, I’m up now, so go and get some sleep. I’ll wake Raki in a few hours so he can take a turn until daylight. Thank you for taking first watch. I feel much better than when we ended the day.” She smiled at him. He forced a smile for her, but it never reached those eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight.
“Okay. Be careful,” he said. “My feelings about our watcher have not changed, but something is going to happen, I can sense it.”
Fahtin flicked her hand and a knife appeared in it. She spun it a few times, and then flicked her hand to sheath it again. “I’ll be careful.”
His smile almost reached his eyes that time. “Good. I’ll see you in a few hours, then.” He went off, rolled himself in his cloak, and was soon breathing the deep, regular breaths of slumber.
Her time passed slowly, with nothing making an appearance and none of the sounds she usually heard on watch. He had been right, it felt like the world paused, waiting for something. But was it a good thing or a bad one?
Fahtin woke Raki almost three hours before dawn. He rubbed at his eyes and blinked a
few times, but then got up and walked with her back to the rock she and Aeden had used for their watch. She had added wood to the fire during her time and added a few more pieces before she laid down again.
It was warmer by the fire than on her rock perch, but the early morning was getting chillier. She wrapped her cloak around her and lay right next to Aeden, their backs touching. His heat seeped into her body, and before she could think another thought, the blackness consumed her.
When she woke, she knew it was just before the sky would begin lightening. In fact, though everything still seemed dark, she thought that maybe it was tipping just a little bit more toward gray than true black. She rubbed her eyes, sat up, and looked toward the fire.
There was a man sitting there, picking at his nails with a long knife.
Chapter 31
Aeden felt Fahtin rouse beside him and he sighed. Her movement had taken the warmth of her body away from his. When she jerked upright, he knew something was not right and he swept his cloak off in one motion, drawing the swords lying next to him. He sprang to his feet, weapons at the ready, searching for what had caused her to react that way.
A man sat next to the fire, long knife in his hand. Was he picking his nails with it?
The man did not move, so Aeden took the opportunity to scan the darkened clearing. He didn’t see anything else amiss. Aeden focused on the intruder. He was a large man, bear-like in shape. His head was bald as an egg, and he had a neatly trimmed moustache and beard that covered only a circle around his mouth and the bottom of his rounded chin. The hair was white, and the lines etched in his face showed that he was not a young man, but the way he sat told Aeden he was not weak or infirm. And the way he held that knife indicated that he was very familiar with the weapon, like it was a part of him.
His clothes were muted greens and browns, huntsman’s garb, thick pants, a rough shirt, and a tough leather vest over the top of it. The thing that really caught Aeden’s attention, though, was the man’s eyes. They were completely white, even brighter than his beard and moustache. He was obviously blind, the way those white orbs didn’t focus on anything. He was aware of the man standing in front of him with two swords drawn, though.
“Calm yourself, Aeden,” the man said, sheathing the long knife in an elegant motion. “I’m not here as an enemy.” He raised his hands up as his face turned toward the Tannoch warrior.
At Aeden’s movement and the man’s voice, Raki whirled toward the other three, throwingknives in his hand. Aeden shook his head at the boy so he wouldn’t release them. It had not escalated to that point yet.
“Who are you?” Aeden said, noting Fahtin taking a breath beside him. “How do you know my name?”
“I know your name,” the man said calmly, “because I have heard your friends use it. Your friends Fahtin,”—he nodded toward her—“and Raki.” He jerked his head backward toward the boy. “As for who I am, my name is Tere Chizzit.”
“And why are you here, Tere Chizzit?” Aeden asked. “How did you get into camp without any of us seeing or hearing you?” He shot a look at Raki, and the youngest member of their party seemed to get the implication.
“I didn’t fall asleep,” Raki said. “I was right here, scanning the forest. I don’t know how he got past me.”
“You have a lot of questions,” Tere Chizzit said. “Let me just say that when I came upon your trail almost a week ago, you interested me. I rarely see anyone travel in the Grundenwald, and for good reason. I followed you to see what you were about, whether evil or good, whether out of ignorance or plain stupidity. I still haven’t decided.”
“Our business is our own, old man. You followed us into this forest for nothing. Now leave us in peace and we will let you depart alive.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I don’t think so. I am still curious. I did not follow you into the Grundenwald. I live here.”
“Live here?” Fahtin said. “That’s ridiculous. No one lives in this forest.”
“Do you know that as fact, girl? If so, how? This forest is a big place, and I will tell you for true, there are many who live here. Many who do not suffer others to trespass in their homes.”
“Are you one such?” Aeden asked, tightening the grip on his sword.
The man swiveled his head so those white eyes of his were pointing at Aeden. “No.” He seemed to consider it a moment, then sighed. “No. I was merely curious, as I said. Why venture into an unknown place, one famous for stories of magical creatures, beasts, and people who disappeared without a trace? There must be something very important. You must be going toward something that means more than your lives. Or running from something.” He tilted his head as he said it. Aeden understood the question.
“The roads are becoming dangerous,” Aeden hedged. “There are black creatures roaming the countryside and the roads. We desire to avoid them.”
“Ah,” Tere Chizzit said. “The truth is not that hard to tell, now, is it? I have seen these creatures. I have seen a little of what they do. They are dangerous, no doubt, but dangerous enough to enter the Grundenwald to avoid them? I think not, unless…”
“They are chasing us,” Fahtin blurted out. Aeden sighed. “Oh, Aeden, it’s fine. If this man wanted to kill us, he could easily have done so as we slept. We might as well trust him. He might be able to help us, if he’s willing.” She looked toward the stranger expectantly.
“Chasing you,” Tere Chizzit mused. “Now, that is interesting.” He stood up abruptly, making Aeden shift his stance to meet any attack that was coming. “I have a pack, over there,” he pointed to the underbrush on the opposite side of the clearing from where Raki had been positioned. “In it, I have some food. I will share it with you and we can discuss things like civilized people. How does that sound to you?”
Fahtin stepped toward the man and took his hand before Aeden could stop her. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll help you.”
The man’s face broke into a smile as he let the girl lead him to his cache. Aeden muttered, “Daight daedos ist,” and jammed his swords into their scabbards.
The four were soon eating a stew that Tere Chizzit had made with the supplies in his pack. Aeden had to admit, it tasted better than anything he had eaten since they left the caravan.
“Why are you out here, Tere?” Fahtin said. She had seemed to get comfortable with the man right away. Whether it was, as she said, because he had already proved he was not their enemy, or because of some kind of woman’s intuition, Aeden didn’t know. The fact remained that she had started treating him like an uncle. A favorite uncle at that. Maybe it was his blindness.
He had retrieved a bow and quiver of arrows when he picked up his pack. Aeden thought it was ridiculous that a blind man carry such a weapon, but they were of very fine quality. The best he’d ever seen, in fact. Every last detail on each arrow looked to have been done with the skill of a master craftsman.
“I got sick of people,” the man said. “Too much dishonesty, too much selfishness and greed. So I picked up and left. I’m much happier out here with only the animals and good, honest monsters. The fell creatures hereabouts don’t pretend to be something else. Well, none but the changelings; I know how to spot them, though, so it’s fine. Nope, give me the forest over a city any day.”
“But, don’t you get lonely?” Fahtin asked.
“I’m alone, but no, I don’t get lonely. They are very different things. I have been lonely in a crowd of people before. Out here, though? I don’t expect to be around people, so I don’t miss them. It works out.”
Tere Chizzit suddenly moved like a snake. He twisted, drew an arrow from the quiver on his back, nocked it, drew it to his cheek, and released, all in the space of a breath.
Aeden had rolled backward, drawing his swords as he came to his feet, ready to take the man’s head. The blind man sat there looking at the Croagh as if he was crazy. Aeden looked over his body to see if he had been struck by an arrow. He hadn’t. He checked Fahtin and Raki. Neither of them were inj
ured. Then where had the arrow gone?
Raki moved toward a tree twenty feet away. There, impaled to the tree with a still-quivering arrow, was one of the black squirrels that inhabited the forest. The arrow had gone through its eye. Raki removed the arrow from the tree and trotted it over to the others, the carcass still on the shaft.
“We can clean that one and use it for another meal,” Tere Chizzit said, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
“How did you do that?” Raki asked. “I was closer to that tree than you and I didn’t hear or see the squirrel.”
“I have better sight than most, though my eyes don’t work. It’s a gift I have that lets me survive out here.”
“Tere,” Fahtin said, eyeing the squirrel. “Do you know this forest well?”
“I do. I’ve lived here for more than two decades. I better know it. It’s my backyard, after all.”
Fahtin nodded. “Do you think you could help us? You know, tell us where to go, maybe even show us? If this forest is as dangerous as you say, we could use the help of someone who knows it.”
“I might be able to give you a hand. First, though, the truth. Why is it that you’re running from those black things? More importantly, why are they chasing you? And where are you going? You didn’t just choose to wander in the Grundenwald to try to evade those creatures. You’re too smart to panic like that. Tell me these things and I may decide to help.”
Fahtin looked at Aeden. He shrugged. She might as well tell him. What could it hurt?
“Have you ever heard of the Song of Prophecy? The Bhavisyaganant?”
“I have,” Tere Chizzit said, “long ago. What of it? Are you saying that these dark creatures are the ones from the Song?”
“Animaru,” Fahtin said. “Yes. The one mentioned in the Song. The Malatirsay? It may be Aeden.”
Tere Chizzit began to laugh. It was a deep, booming laugh and the man seemed to be enjoying it. It went on for some time. Aeden found his face warming.
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