"They're resting in the arms of Amman now," she told herself.
She nearly cried when she heard the clinking of the water running over the river stones, and she forgot her need to be cautious. She ran to the stream and kneeled down, leaning over the water and scooping it up into her mouth. It was cold and refreshing; the best water she had ever tasted in her life.
She drank her fill, wishing she had a bladder or a bottle. Then she stood up, wiped her mouth, and tried to decide what to do next. She had been so intent on finding the water, she realized she had no plan after that. All she knew was that she needed to get away from Watertown, and out of the Whistling Woods.
She considered the stream, and looked up to find the sun. She knew it rose to the east and set to the west, and she knew that her house faced the forest, and the sun never rose or set in the front of her house. The sun was rising in the same direction the stream was flowing. As long as she followed it west, she should be moving away from her village. But towards what?
She didn't know, and she wasn't going to find out by standing there. At least if she stayed with the stream she would have access to fresh water, and she was sure there would be berry bushes along the way. If only she had listened to Roddin more closely when he had tried to tell her what he was learning from Master Lewyn.
Eryn started walking. At first she concentrated on every step, watching where she put her feet, trying to make sure she didn't land on any branches or make any noise, or leave marks in the ground that his soldiers could follow. It was tiring though, and slow, and she wanted to be out of the forest and away from Watertown as fast as possible. She wanted to get somewhere, anywhere that wasn't where she was, because all she could think about was her family, and how alone she was, and that she was getting hungry. Besides, the soldiers rode horses, and horses were certainly loud. She was sure to hear them before they could hear her.
She walked for two hours before she came across an berry bush, and she helped herself to a great big handful of the large red berries. She wondered how far she had gone, because the stream had stayed a stream, and the woods had stayed the woods, and she didn't feel like she had actually gone anywhere at all.
"How big is this forest, anyway?" she asked. She was sure Roddin or Papa had probably told her once, but she hadn't been paying attention.
"About two days' ride north to south, and a half of a day east to west, Eryn. Depending on the horse."
She jerked her head up, gripped with a sudden fear. Master Lewyn stepped out from behind a tree.
"You're near the eastern-most edge, where this stream meets up with the Baden River, which flows south to north to Elling Lake, but the Baden runs through the wood also. Did you know Elling is where the Overlord of our province rules from? You should be more careful where you step, child," he said. "You left tracks that even a troll could follow. In any case, you shouldn't be wandering out in the woods alone. The forest can be a dangerous place."
Eryn stared at Roddin's teacher. He was a short, older man with grey hair and a trimmed beard, small blue eyes and a wide nose. He was wearing the same kind of brown leathers that her brother had worn, and he had a knife on one hip, and a short sword on the other.
"They killed him," she said, her words shaking as she fought to hold back the pain and the tears. She had known Master Lewyn her entire life, and he was beloved in the village for his kindness and wisdom. If there was anyone who could understand, it had to be him. "Roddin. His soldiers killed him. My parents too."
Master Lewyn looked sad. "I know, child. I'm very sorry for your loss." He took a few steps towards her. Even though she trusted him, she was still frightened, so she backed away.
"They wanted to take me away," she said. "They tried to kill me."
"Eryn, you must listen to me. His soldiers are looking for you, even now. They returned to the village late last night. They were angry, because two of their own, and their Mediator did not return."
"Mediator?" She knew he must be talking about Lia, though she had never heard the word before.
"Yes. The Mediator is the one who speaks to the Cursed for him. They claim that the Mediators are kind, and that they wish to help those who are afflicted, but I don't believe them."
"It was a Mediator that killed Roddin," she said. "She was Cursed."
Master Lewyn's eyes widened with surprise. "Cursed, you say? Perhaps you are mistaken?"
She shook her head. "She killed Roddin with lightning. It came from a metal staff she was carrying. Her eyes were bleeding."
Master Lewyn flicked his eyes around the woods, and he put his finger to his lips the way Roddin had. Eryn was completely still, listening along with the man. After a minute, he took his finger away.
"Eryn, I need you to come with me. You're in great danger. The soldiers are searching for you. When they find you, they'll kill you."
She already knew that much. "Why would you want to help me? If they see you with me, they'll kill you too."
He took a deep breath, and cast his eyes to the ground. "I had a daughter once, many years ago. You remind me of her. On her eleventh birthday, she was playing with our dog, Lansa. I was sitting nearby, sharpening my knife. One moment, Lansa was alive and well, running, and barking, and playing. The next, she was dead. My daughter, she touched her, and her heart just stopped beating."
Master Lewyn looked up then, his eyes filling with tears. "I would have tried to hide her, but others saw it too. We had no choice but to send for his soldiers. They came a few days later, and their Mediator convinced my girl to go with her. It broke my heart to watch them ride away. Of course, I never saw her again. I don't want you to suffer the same fate that she did."
Eryn had heard stories like this before, but she hadn't known Master Lewyn had ever had any children. She found her own eyes becoming moist from his sad tale. "I'm sorry for your pain," she said.
"Thank you, child," he replied. "Please, come with me, and we'll get you out of here. I can take you as far as the road, and I can give you what little coin I have." He shook a small bag tied to his hip. "It isn't much, but it should buy you a few meals."
Eryn smiled. "I don't know how I can every repay you for this," she said. "You have always been so kind to me, and to Roddin."
His smile was heavy. "He was like a son to me, that boy. Come, we need to track away from the stream. They'll be expecting you to stay near water. I only hope I can get you to the road before they can assemble a watch to prevent you from leaving."
He waved his hand, and started walking north, away from Watertown and the stream. His movements were silent and careful. "Mind your feet, child. Don't leave any tracks for them to follow. Step where I step."
"Okay," she said, and she followed behind him, making sure her feet landed almost exactly where his did.
They walked for over an hour, not a word shared between them, with the woodsman pointing and directing her with his hands, and stopping every so often to listen. Eryn was nervous at first, but she knew that he had been walking the Whistling Wood for years, and if anyone knew how to survive out there, it was him. She began to relax and follow his instructions almost automatically. At last they reached a large, moss-covered stone, and Master Lewyn called for them to stop.
"It is out of place here," Eryn said.
Master Lewyn unslung his quiver and put it on the ground. He leaned over it and pushed some of the arrows aside, searching. "Hmm... Oh, you mean the stone?"
"Yes." She stood under it, and looked up. It had to be at least twenty feet tall, and equally wide. It wasn't buried in the ground, but resting in a rut, as though it had slid some distance through the wood before stopping in that spot.
He found what he had been looking for, pulling out a small loaf of bread. He tore it in half, and handed a piece to her. "I call that the Giant's Ball," he said. "The shape of it, and the way it is sitting here, with no other stones around it that are so large... it is as if a giant threw it here."
"It's incredible," she said, taki
ng a big bite of the bread. She had never been more grateful for such a simple meal. She took her own quiver from her back and placed it next to her, then sat with her back against the Ball. "How long will it take to get to the road?"
Master Lewyn took a bite of the bread, and then returned his quiver to his back. "We've gone north a little bit to get away from the stream. Now we will head west towards the Baden River. It's only half of a day's walk, maybe a little bit more from here."
The thought of being away from Watertown made her happy. She didn't want to ever have to go back to see what had become of her home. "Aren't you going to be in trouble for helping me?"
He shook his head, and then turned in a circle, searching the trees. Satisfied, he came over, standing a few feet in front of her. "No. His soldiers sent me out here to find you. I can just go back tomorrow morning, and tell them I saw no signs of your passing."
Eryn considered that while she brought the bread up to her mouth. "Do you think they'll belie.. Oh." The bread slipped out of her hand, falling to the moss below. "I'm not usually so clumsy." She reached down to pick it up, and noticed something shimmering in the dirt, almost buried by time.
"What's this?" She picked up the bread in her left hand, and then used her right to scrape away at the moss and earth around the object.
"Its probably just a bit of quartz," Master Lewyn said. She noticed he was looking around again.
She scraped some more of the dirt away, and then dug her nails under it, hooking her prize. A ring, she saw. A gold ring, with a small, clear gemstone set on top of it. How had it come to be out here?
Eryn held it up for Master Lewyn to examine, but she saw his attention was elsewhere.
"Master Lewyn, look at this," she said, holding it out with excitement.
He turned to her, his expression tight and tense. "What is it?' he asked, his voice unsteady.
Something was wrong.
She pulled the ring back and slid it onto her index finger. The fit was almost perfect. "Just a ring," she said. "Are you okay?"
He smiled, a tight smile that pushed his lips together. The corners of his mouth were twitching. "I'm fine, child."
She didn't like it, and something in her was telling her she needed to get out of there. She started to get to her feet, when Master Lewyn reached out and took her by the wrist.
"Don't move, Eryn," he growled. "It isn't safe. We just need to stay for a few minutes more."
Now he was scaring her. "I want to go, now!" She tried to pull her wrist away, but he gripped it tighter.
"I'm sorry, child," he said. "I can't let you go." His eyes became moist and tears rolled down his cheek. "You have to understand, they said they would kill everyone in the village if I didn't find you."
Eryn felt her anger begin to build. He had tricked her! Sweet, kind, Master Lewyn had lied to her, and led her right into a trap. But could she really blame him? They were threatening the entire village, as they had the night before when they had first come looking for her but didn't know who she was. Still, she had seen what his soldiers were like. She knew it wouldn't be as simple as Master Lewyn had made it sound.
"Master Lewyn, you have to let me go. They're going to kill everyone in the village anyway. Please, come with me, and we'll get away. We'll run away together."
The woodsman shook his head. "I know you're afraid child, but you have to think of the village. My wife..."
Her anger faded. She couldn't find it in her heart to blame him, but that didn't mean she was going to just let them kill her. "I'm sorry, Master Lewyn. I have to go. Don't you see, this is what will happen to every Cursed, every village forever and ever if somebody doesn't find a way to stop it. I'm going to find a way. I made a promise to my mother that I would survive."
Instead of trying to pull her arm away, she grabbed his arm with her hand, and pulled him towards her. She was strong for a girl, stronger than he had expected, and she managed to take him off balance. He hit his head on the rock and let go.
Eryn jumped to her feet, grabbed her quiver and started to run. A hand grabbed her ankle, and she fell forward into the dirt.
"No," Master Lewyn shouted. "You're going to stay right here. The soldiers will be here any minute. I can hear the horses coming now."
Eryn listened. She could hear them too. She had to escape.
Master Lewyn pulled her leg, bringing her closer and trying to get on top of her, to sit on her and hold her down. Desperate, she kicked and thrashed, managing to connect with his forearm and get him to let go again. She turned over and pulled herself to her feet. The woodsman stood in front of her, his knife in his hand.
"Please, Eryn," he said, his breathing heavy. "I don't want to hurt you."
"They're going to kill me," she replied. "What does it matter if you hurt me?"
What did it matter? She wasn't afraid of his knife. Something worse was coming for her. She ran towards him, throwing her body against his. She caught him off guard, and knocked him to the ground, the knife falling out of his grasp. She punched him, once, twice, three times, leaving his lip and nose bloody. She was too light though, and when he rocked himself she almost fell off.
The knife was in her reach, so she grabbed it. Master Lewyn rocked again, pushing her up and back, nearly tossing her off completely. She was straddling his legs now, and he was pulling them out from under her.
There was a single moment where she didn't think she could use the knife, to stab him with it and get him away from her. It was a moment when she remembered the kind old man who would sit at a fire and tell stories, whose wife would mend their clothes and bake pies with them. It was a moment that she had to leave in the past, to rest with her family in the ashes of Watertown.
She brought the knife down, plunging it into his chest.
He grunted, and stopped struggling, his face a mask of shock. He wasn't dead, yet, but all of the fight had left him.
"What does it mean?" he asked as she got to her feet, pulling the coin purse from his hip and grabbing her bow and quiver. "That the Mediators are Cursed?"
"I don't know," she said. "But I'm going to find out."
"Good luck then, Eryn," he said, his voice fading with his life. "I'm sorry. I had no choice."
She started to run, her eyes threatening to fill with tears again. Not because she had killed him, but because he had felt he had no choice.
He leaves so many without choices.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Silas
Silas kicked his heels into the mare, urging her forward. She was well-trained, and she moved immediately at his request. To his left, the fire still burned fiercely, and he could hear the screaming of the rest of the horses as the flames began to overtake them.
"Damn that man," he cursed, thinking of Roque. He had sounded so apologetic, right before he had set fire to the stables. Never mind that he had just killed two people, and at least half a dozen steeds.
There was a large pen behind the stables, where the Old Oak and many of the other nearby taverns kept their livestock. Silas aimed the horse that way at a trot, trying to look inconspicuous to anyone who happened to wander outside.
"If anyone wanders outside at a time like this," he muttered. Nobody wanted to be witness to his soldiers collecting a Cursed.
It was a fact that cost him.
"He escaped," someone shouted from down the street. Silas turned his head, and saw a group of soldiers on horseback, coming his way.
"Too damn obvious out here," he said. He took the flat of his blade and smacked it against the mare's rear, causing it to launch into a gallop. He heard the soldiers gather momentum behind him. "I hope you're a good runner," he cried.
Hooves pounded the earth, and they headed straight for the livestock pen. "And a good jumper," he shouted as they reached the fence. The mare bunched itself up and sprang, clearing the gate with a few inches to spare. Silas smacked his tailbone as they landed, unused to the force.
Pigs, chickens, and lambs scattered in front
of them, and Silas steered the horse hard, turning it left and right in as much of a zigzag as he could manage, sure that the soldiers behind him would be stringing their bows and preparing a volley of arrows.
Word would spread quickly of this man who had defied an army, and within minutes he would be boxed in. Within hours the entire contingent of his soldiers assigned to Root would be searching for him, and if he didn't do something fast, he would be captured by nightfall. He could only wish his death would be quick, but he had no doubt Penticott, or whoever replaced the man, would want revenge for his disobedience and lawlessness. There was no clean end there, only painful torture.
He reached the other side of the pen and the horse leaped again, once more clearing the barrier. Silas heard the arrows now, whistling towards him and thunking into the wooden fence. He knew it wasn't because the soldiers were poor shots, but because firing an arrow from a moving horse was hard, no matter how good you were.
He turned the horse to the right, heading it down Fillion Road. The dirt street had been named after Olik Fillion, a wealthy merchant who owned many of the storefronts along the road. There was only one way he might get out of this alive. He knew he needed to make it to the Wharf.
To do that, he had to get past the two soldiers who rode out in front of him, one hundred feet ahead, their bows coming level in a hurry.
Shooting arrows from moving horses was hard. Firing from stationary mounts was much easier. Silas ducked down low, trying to get as much of his body behind that of the horse as he could. There was nowhere to turn around, and no way to go anywhere but forward. He would either be shot dead right now, or he would smash his way through their barricade.
He was close enough to hear the twang of the bowstrings. A second later the horse let out a shrill cry, and he felt the front legs lock and then collapse. He picked himself up off the mare so he could see ahead. The soldiers were still twenty feet away, and they were preparing another round. His ride was about to fall face-first, two arrows fired perfectly into the heart of the animal.
His Dark Empire (Tears of Blood) Page 7
