Forgotten Crown (The Two Hunters Book 1)

by Kara Jaynes

  “It’s barley,” Elysa explained. “It’s good for you.” She turned and went back to the fire, tending to it.

  Silvan smiled at me, and took a swallow of the dark brown liquid in his mug.

  I took a sip and burnt my tongue. I didn’t like it. It was too bitter, and the sweetness of the honey stirred in didn’t help. I made a face and started to push my mug away, but froze under Silvan’s disapproving stare.

  “Finish it,” he muttered under his breath.

  “I don’t like it,” I shot back.

  “I don’t care.” Silvan drank more, seemingly impervious to the drink’s earthy texture.

  I glared down at my cup, heat rising to my face before I took another swig. Magic have mercy, it was bad.

  “I see you enjoyed the barley,” the woman smiled, bustling back from the hearth. “Do you not have it where you’re from?”

  “No, ma’am,” Silvan replied politely. “But it’s very invigorating.”

  I took another swallow, silently cursing the silver-haired boy. Why did he care whether or not I drank it?

  After breakfast, Silvan and I went outside. The village was a bustle of activity. Women swept porches, fed chickens, and washed laundry in large buckets and hung the wet clothes on ropes strung between houses to dry them.

  Children ran between houses, laughing and playing. I watched them run past me, puzzled by their joy. “If they’re in such dire straits, why are they happy?” I asked Silvan.

  “Children don’t need much to be happy,” Silvan remarked, smiling at them. “It comes naturally to them.”

  I watched them go, a sour pang of envy souring my gut. I hadn’t been happy as a child. Not until I met Silvan. He’d changed everything for me.

  The men lounged around on the porches, or talked to each other in small groups. “Why aren’t they working?” I asked. “Lazy bums.” It was at that moment I remembered I hadn’t worked a day in my life, and I turned my head so Silvan wouldn’t see the flame that rose to my face.

  “A division of labor,” Silvan explained. “The women cook and clean, and the men hunt and protect. It’s a fairly common occurrence in most societies.” He laughed and shrugged. “The ones I’ve seen, anyway. I suppose some might be different.”

  “Why didn’t I learn the things you’ve learned, Silvan?”

  A child toddling by tripped and sprawled in the dirt by Silvan’s feet. He knelt down and helped the little boy to his feet, dusting the dirt off his shirt before sending him off. “Well, I used to read a lot,” he said. “And when I wasn’t reading, I just lived in the moment. You can learn a lot when you allow yourself to just be.”

  “I’ve read a lot of books, too,” I said, annoyed at the defensiveness that crept into my voice. “My tutor told me that I was an educated woman.”

  Silvan smiled, oblivious to my inner turmoil. “That’s great, Glacia.”

  “Why did you have me drink the hot barley?” I said, changing the subject.

  Silvan eyed me blandly and walked away from the bustle, and I hurried to follow him, taking two strides for every one of his. “You saw what Elysa fed us.”

  “Yes, I did,” I said irritably. “Gray porridge and bitter brown water.”

  “She didn’t eat today,” Silvan replied. “She went without so that we could eat. To refuse would have been rude, to reject after starting, unthinkable. She’s trying to thank us for saving her child, Glacia. That was literally the best she could offer.”

  I cringed at the sternness in his voice. My faced heated with embarrassment. I hadn’t considered that at all. “I’m sorry.”

  “You need to trust me,” he said simply.

  I nodded silently, and he smiled at me reassuringly. My insides twisted under his piercing blue gaze. My heart would never get used to his eyes.

  Silvan peered up ahead, his brow lowering in puzzlement. “What’s this?” He pointed ahead, and I saw a well-trodden trail leading away from the clearing, the exact opposite from where we’d come the night before.

  “A trail.”

  “No, no. Look.” He pointed, and I saw a large pen past the last house in the village. Goats milled about inside, bleating. “Goats,” I said proudly. “I read about them in books.” Ha.

  Silvan nodded. “Yes. But I can’t imagine they’re happy to be cooped up in that pen, though. Why don’t they let them out to graze?”

  “We used to let them out,” a boy said, striding past us. He was a lanky thing, shorter than Silvan, but taller than me. “But there’s troll on the bridge, so we can’t get the goats to the grassy pastures anymore.” He stopped at the pen and began throwing fistfuls of hay into the pen, pulling from bales near the fence.

  “Can I help?” I asked, running over.

  “Sure.” The boy smiled at me, and tearing off a chunk of hay, handed it to me. He was a pleasant looking sort of boy, with a smattering of freckles across his nose, and brown hair that stuck out in the back.

  Silvan scowled at the boy, and a warm glow settled in my stomach. I didn’t know why, exactly, so instead focused on throwing handfuls of hay to the goats. The animals were excited to eat the hay, butting each other with their horns as they scrambled to eat.

  “You can pet them if you want,” the boy said, and patted one of the goats on the head. “They like it.”

  I followed his example, laughing when the goat bobbed its head, bumping my hand.

  “You’re having trouble with trolls?” Silvan asked gruffly.

  “Yeah,” the village boy said. “The worst sort. They’ve taken over the bridge, and eat our goats when we try to get them over.”

  “What are trolls?” I asked Silvan, hating myself for my ignorance.

  Silvan’s face flushed and he bit his lower lip, remaining silent. He didn’t know. I turned away to hide my smug smile.

  “Trolls are trolls,” the boy said. “They’re shorter than a man, but stronger. They have tusks and red eyes. They eat just about anything they can get their claws on, but they seem to like goats the best. These goats are all we have left.” His tone turned worried. “If they kill any more, we’re going to have a rough go of it this winter. Our gardens haven’t sprouted very well this year.”

  “Because of the trolls?” I said, and he laughed and shook his head. “Because of how dry it is,” he said. “We haven’t had enough rain.”

  I fell silent, content to feed the goats, watching them devour the hay.

  “How do I find the bridge?” Silvan asked suddenly. “Do I follow that path?”

  The boy peered at him through narrowed eyes, his expression skeptical. “Yes . . . but I wouldn’t think of going, if I were you. The trolls will eat you.”

  “They can’t eat me,” Silvan scoffed, and I laughed, too. The idea was absurd; I’d seen what Silvan could do.

  “Hmpf.” The boy threw the final bits of hay in with the goats. “Suit yourself.”

  He turned on his heel and ran off. “Trolls aren’t particularly fast,” he called back over his shoulder. “Keep that in mind, and give yourself a head start if one lunges at you.”

  “Don’t take it personally,” I said in the quiet that followed. “None of the villagers have seen what you can do, yet.”

  “I’m not bothered,” Silvan replied, but his tone was sharp. He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I don’t care what they think of me.”

  “Okay. Can I come with you?”

  “No. I want you to stay here.”

  “What if you need help?”

  Silvan arched a silver brow at me, the corners of his lips curving in a smirk, and I looked away. “You never know,” I muttered.

  “Thank you. I shall inform you if I’m in need of your assistance.”

  I didn’t know much about boys at all, but I knew Silvan well enough to recognize the thread of jealousy that emanated from his voice and posture. Why?

  “Very well,” I replied, hoping I’d guessed right. I turned back toward the houses. “I’ll be here. Maybe that boy can show m
e around so I don’t get lost. Good luck with the trolls, even if you don’t need it.”

  “Wait.” Goosebumps ran up my arm when Silvan’s fingers closed around my wrist. “You can come.”

  I swallowed and hung my head, hiding my pleased expression. “Okay.”

  “But if I tell you to run, run, all right? I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “All right.” He was probably right. What could I do to help? I jutted my lower jaw out, feeling a flash of determination. If I didn’t try to help, I’d never learn.

  24

  Silvan

  We approached the bridge. It was a worn-out contraption of wood planks and rope, and spanned a wide river, creaking slightly in the breeze, the water churning past. Aside from the bridge and water, nothing else moved. I looked around, alert for any sign of danger.

  No signs of life were visible, not even birds or squirrels. No deer were seen when we walked down the trail, no tracks in the earth. I did see one isolated track in a softer patch of dirt off the side of the trail, large and human-like, signs of claws digging into the soil. I didn’t point it out to Glacia.

  “It’s so peaceful,” Glacia sighed, and I shuddered, horrified by her inability to sense danger. I shook my head. If I didn’t teach her now, she’d never learn.

  “The animals have gone silent,” I breathed.

  Glacia tilted her head, listening to the silence. “Perhaps they are afraid of us.”

  “Perhaps,” I agreed, but then said, “Do you smell anything?”

  Glacia sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling. “It stinks. Like . . . like—”

  “Like decay,” I finished for her. “And pond scum.”

  “It’s a river,” she said. “The water won’t have settled enough for it to scum over.”

  I nodded, feeling a surge of pride. She was learning already. When we reached the foot of the bridge, I put an arm out, halting her. “Let me go first.”

  She scowled and folded her arms.

  “Holler if you see any trolls, okay?” I said. “You’ll be able to see from this vantage point better than if you come with me.”

  She nodded, looking slightly mollified. A stab of guilt twisted my stomach. I felt conflicted between wanting to teach her self-reliance, and putting her somewhere where she’d stay safe and sound.

  I stepped onto the bridge, the planks creaking beneath me. I frowned, dividing my weight between the floor and the rope sides. It didn’t feel very sturdy.

  As I crossed, I peered over the rope railing to the rushing water below. It didn’t look too treacherous, but still too fast for goats or people to wade or swim across.

  The banks were steep and muddy, and as I approached the other side, saw that the incline curved inward, making the bank sides almost cave-like before reaching the water.

  The smell of pond scum reached my nostrils and I frowned. Why did it smell this strong so close to the center of the river?

  “Silvan!” Glacia's scream cut through the air like a knife. I spun around, my blood surging with adrenaline.

  A creature had scrambled up on the far back closer to Glacia and was crossing the bridge toward me, its angry red gaze trained on mine. It jabbered incoherently, spittle flying from its fangs. It was the same type of creature Glacia and I had encountered yesterday in the forest, closer to the sea.

  “So, you're a troll, eh?” I readied my stance, preparing to take it head-on. I could save time and transform, but that would mean destroying the bridge, and I didn't want to do that. “Trolls, prowling bridges and paths. I’m beginning to see a pattern, here.”

  It didn't respond, and had almost reached me.

  I inhaled, then ran straight at it.

  The troll skidded to a halt. Uncertainty flashed across its blunt features. It clearly hadn't expected me to charge it.

  I jumped right before we collided, and gave it a solid kick in the snout.

  With a strangled roar, the troll lifted its arms, claws reaching for me, but I had already landed behind him.

  I summoned energy, pulling it from the air. Gathering it close to my heart, I then flung my arms outward, the invisible force slamming into the troll.

  The beast stumbled and fell over the ropes and off the bridge with a garbled shriek. Hitting the water with a loud splash, it was swept downstream.

  I stood still, chest heaving, ears strained for any sounds of danger. I blinked in surprise when I heard the tinkling sound of Glacia’s laughter.

  “Demons, wolves, bullies and trolls.” She beamed at me. “Is there anything or anyone you can’t defeat?”

  I shrugged, trying to hide the pride that bubbled up inside of me. “I don’t know,” I answered truthfully. “Maybe.”

  Our smiles faded as we gazed at each other, sharing the same thought. I hadn’t defeated the demons. I could have stayed and fought, but I hadn’t. I chose to flee. So, who could say?

  And they were still out there. Burning. Destroying.

  “Land quake!” exclaimed a voice. The boy from the village scrambled out of the bushes, his eyes large and his smile wide. “That was incredible. You defeated that troll all by yourself. You're tougher and gruffer than Jett!”

  I shrugged. “Now your goats can graze, anyway.”

  The young man laughed. “You're a hero,” he said. “If anyone can defeat the Beast, sure as fire, it'll be you.” He turned and ran back up the path, certainly off to tell the other villagers.

  Glacia was watching me, a spark of curiosity lighting her gray eyes. “What was that thing you did?” she asked. “To the troll?”

  I rolled my shoulders. “Just used my ability,” I said. “You wouldn't understand the particulars.”

  My heart wilted under the flicker of hurt that crossed her face, but her expression was quickly masked. “I see,” she said. “Perhaps it was my imagination, but I thought for a moment that you used air.” Her face reddened with embarrassment and she turned away. “But of course, I wouldn't know.”

  I watched her walk up the path, snapping my jaw shut when I realized I was gawking. How did she know? Was it just a lucky guess? I couldn't tell. Her magic had appeared asleep when I’d studied it last night. But perhaps it was merely lying in wait, ready for instruction.

  I quickly caught up with her and we walked back to the village together in silence.

  The village was in an uproar as men and women alike ran out to meet us, everyone babbling at once. Was it true that I had defeated the troll? Would I destroy any other monsters that threatened their safety? The Beast was surely no match for you, silver-haired boy. You must be an angel.

  Angel.

  Angel.

  I gritted my teeth, the word grating on me worse than the word demon. I was no angel. I had let my people die.

  The goats were released from their pen, and several boys from the village herded them down the path, where they would be able to cross the bridge and grow fat on the sweet grasses in the fields.

  “You've given them hope,” Glacia said, when we were blessedly alone again that night. “You've made them feel something they thought was lost.” We were seated by the village woman's hearth, both of us watching the glowing coals. “You've done something amazing. They love you—all except maybe a few of the surly looking men, and Jett. He’s an odd one.” The village leader had stomped about the village with a dour expression, refusing to engage me or Glacia in conversation all day.

  I snorted. “Don’t worry about him. And the villagers should wait and see if I can defeat this Beast of theirs before showering me with praise.”

  Glacia grinned, her eyes shining in the light. “I don't think anyone doubts your strength now, Silvan.”

  “Well, maybe they should,” I retorted sourly. “I can't do everything, you know.”

  Her expression turned confused. “What's the matter?”

  I sighed, wishing the force of my breath was enough to expel my bottled-up feelings of guilt and despair. But I wouldn't tell her. These feelings weren't for her to bear.
“It's just . . . I can't do everything, Glacia, and I wish people would realize that instead of just assuming I'm all-powerful, because I'm not.” Magic have mercy on me. “I'm not.”

  “Okay.” Glacia's gaze softened, and she patted me on the shoulder. “Tomorrow, I'll tell the villagers to quit crowding you if you'd like.”

  I nodded, feeling slightly foolish. “Thank you.”

  I lay down, shifting my body away from hers, putting a gap between us. “I am going to start searching for the Beast at dawn, Glacia,” I said. “I want you to stay here. Don't enter the forest without me. Not until I find this creature and end it.”

  Glacia exhaled heavily and lay down as well, inching a little closer to me, but keeping a small line of floor between us. I knew she didn't want that line there. “All right,” she whispered, keeping her voice down so we didn't wake the mother and child in the other room. “But I think you should let me go with you.”

  “I know,” I said. “But it's not safe. You didn't sense it like I did. It's evil. It's old, ancient, corrupt power.” I glared up at the ceiling. “That wretched thing would probably try to eat you. Like, actually eat you.”

  “Undoubtedly,” Glacia replied. “But that could be to your advantage, you know. I could be a distraction.”

  Yes. You would certainly be that.

  “I'll let you know if I need your help, okay?” I said. “Let me try to do this alone, first.”

  Glacia was silent for a moment before whispering, “Deal.” I closed my eyes, hoping I would find this monster first before it found my heart.

  25

  Glacia

  When I awoke the following morning, Silvan was already gone.

  I slipped out the door and into the soft summer air. I inhaled deeply, pulling the scent of the forest into my soul. It didn't matter how many gulps I took, I would never tire of the green, woodsy scent of growing things. I was sure of it.