by Simon Brown
“Anyone else?” Jenrosa asked.
“A woman,” he said, and his throat tightened. Lynan immediately recalled the pair of green eyes he had seen staring at him from the darkness, but he said nothing. He was still ashamed of the reaction from Kumul and Ager when his cry of surprise had woken them.
“No, we saw no one else,” Jenrosa said.
Roheth shook his head, as if he was chasing away a persistent fly. “So, you’re off to see the king in his court about taxes? I wish you luck, then.”
“Are you taxed heavily here?” Kumul asked.
“Us? Taxed?” Roheth actually laughed. “No tax collector’s been here for nearly a century. They don’t like the forest. Lucky, that.”
Roheth and Wente had each returned with a brace of rabbits, and these were wrapped in leaves and baked for dinner, served with roasted nuts and a dark gravy made from some mushrooms Seabe had collected that afternoon. The gravy was mopped up with the fresh bread Belara had baked, and it was all washed down with a few flagons of forest mead.
Lynan enjoyed himself more than at any time since fleeing Kendra. His hosts were considerate and, after a few mugs of the mead, joyfully boisterous. There were odd moments throughout the meal, though, when the forest dwellers would inexplicably slip into a kind of deep melancholy, as if a great tragedy had touched all their lives and memory of it refused to leave them. As the night wore on, the bouts of melancholy became deeper and more frequent, and their laughter sounded forced. The companions began to feel uncomfortable, and started making excuses to leave.
“We can’t let you sleep outside,” Roheth protested. “There’s more than enough room in here for all of us.” His arm moved in a wide arc, encompassing the hut crowded with people. “Plenty of room,” he insisted somewhat groggily.
“It’s all right, Roheth,” Jenrosa said. “We’re used to sleeping on the ground.”
“It won’t do. Tell them, Belara.”
His wife stirred uneasily. When she talked, her eyes were downcast. “Roheth is right. We cannot let guests sleep outside when there is more than enough room in our home.”
“Your generosity is overwhelming,” Ager said to the hosts.
It was another hour before the forest dwellers had drunk themselves into a near stupor. With great effort, they gathered together their sleeping children and withdrew behind the woolen rug into their sleeping quarters, leaving their guests to stretch out how they liked in front of the fire.
Lynan woke just before dawn, not sure what had roused him. The fire had burned down to a few glowing embers, and the air was chill. He pulled his cloak tighter around his body and tried to get back to sleep. His mind was just beginning to drift when he heard a scraping sound. He sat up, peering into the eerie gloom. The others were all asleep. He heard the sound again and realized it was coming from outside. Something was scratching on the door, trying to get in.
A part of his mind was surprised he was curious instead of frightened. What if it was a bear or wolf? No, he told himself, that sound is not being made by claws. What if it was one of the children, gone outside for a piss and not able to get back in? He threw off the cloak and stood up, being careful not to step on anyone. The scratching became more insistent, almost frantic, as if whatever was doing it knew someone was coming to open the door. Lynan stretched out his hand, touched the wooden handle and began to turn it.
“No!” hissed a voice behind him.
Lynan nearly jumped out of his skin. He spun around and saw Jenrosa sitting up, holding her cloak protectively around herself.
“Don’t open the door, Lynan, whatever you do!” she pleaded.
“What’s wrong? It could be one of the children trying to get back in…” Even as he said the words, he knew with utter certainty it was no child outside. He whipped his hand away from the handle and stepped back, his skin crawling with instinctive revulsion.
The scratching stopped. For a moment there was no sound at all, then something with an inhuman throat started wailing. It was almost inaudible at first, but it grew louder and more keening until it had become a scream of anger and hatred that made every nerve in Lynan’s body vibrate in pain. The cry then pulled up and away from the hut, as if its source had taken wing and was flying above the hamlet and heading into the forest. In a few seconds there was silence again, and Lynan found he could move once more. His body started shaking uncontrollably, and Jenrosa had to help him into a chair. By now everyone in the hut was awake. The sound of two mewling children came from the sleeping area.
Roheth and Wente stumbled into the living area, sharp axes in their hands, followed by Belara and Seabe holding their babes. Terror was on all their faces. At first, no one said anything. Belara placated Mira and put her in the cradle, then heated up a mug of spiced mead and gave it to Lynan. There was a heavy knock on the door, and before Lynan or Jenrosa could say anything, Ager had opened it. A wide-shouldered woodsman entered, and like Roheth and Wente he carried an ax.
“We heard her,” the stranger said to Roheth.
Roheth nodded. “Everyone is safe. Thank you for coming, Tion.”
“She’ll be back now,” Tion muttered, glancing disapprovingly at the guests. “Unless something is done.”
Roheth ushered Tion outside and followed him. When he came back a few minutes later, his face was gray and worried.
“What is going on?” Kumul asked levelly.
“What was it?” Lynan added.
“She was Silona,” Roheth said heavily.
Kumul did not look surprised. “So the stories are true.”
“Oh, yes. She exists, all right.”
“Excuse me,” Lynan interjected, feeling annoyed. “But who is Silona?”
“She is part of the forest,” Belara said quietly. “She’s been here since time began, guarding the trees.”
“Is she dangerous?”
“Mortally dangerous,” Roheth answered. “You are a very lucky young man. By rights, you should have died tonight.”
“If she’s so dangerous, why don’t you hunt her down and kill her?”
“Oh, men have tried before. Over the centuries, every generation throws up its heroes and its fools. Those who go after her are never seen again; at least, not as man or woman.”
“How often…” Lynan swallowed hard and started again. “How often does she kill?”
“Most of the time she’s asleep. Every few years she wakes to take the blood of three or four humans, then goes back to sleep.”
“Blood?” Lynan’s hands started shaking, and had difficulty putting the mug of mead to his lips. He drank deeply.
“She is a wood vampire,” Roheth explained. “Perhaps the last of her kind. The fact that the borders of this forest have stood for so long shows how strong her will is.”
“How does she take the blood?”
Roheth shrugged. “No one has ever seen her, let alone watched her feed, and lived to tell about it. One day you wake up and someone in the hamlet has died. There are no marks, but the body is drained of blood. We burn the corpse. Sometimes she takes travelers, and if their bodies are not found by the next night, they will walk the forest seeking out new victims for her.”
“The hounds of Silona,” Jenrosa said, glancing at Belara.
Roheth nodded. “When we find them, we cut off their heads and burn them. We give them rest.”
Lynan was feeling sick. I almost let her in. “Why… why did she not just break down the door if she wanted someone inside this hut?”
“Legend says her victims must come to her willingly,” Roheth replied, looking sideways at Lynan.
“I’m sorry, Roheth, I didn’t know what I was doing…”
“I’m not blaming you. It’s impossible to resist her, which is why our families crowd together when she is awake and haunting the forest.”
“That explains all the abandoned huts we found on the way here,” Ager said. “They belong to woodspeople who leave to join other hamlets.”
Roheth no
dded.
“How do you know when it’s time to gather together?” Kumul asked.
“When we find the first victim,” Roheth replied bluntly.
“I think we are lucky not to have met this Silona before,” Kumul said. “To think of all the nights we were sleeping in the open.”
“She stalks the hamlets and the forest surrounding them, mostly.” Roheth caught Lynan’s attention. “But now that’s changed. If she’s felt your mind, she will pursue you.”
“But I am safe here?”
“Not anymore. You’ve frustrated her once. She will keep on returning to our hamlet until she takes you, or some other unfortunate falls in her way.”
“We can keep watch,” Kumul suggested, his voice becoming strident. “We will set a trap for her—”
“Do you think we haven’t tried this before?” Roheth demanded. “Our traps never work. Watchers fall asleep where they stand, or become victims themselves. She is used to the ways of people: she knows us the way we know the boar we hunt or the fish we spear.”
“You mean that our presence is placing all your lives in danger?” Ager said.
Roheth nodded reluctantly. “That’s what Tion wanted to talk about. He believes I should ask you to leave, for the sake of the hamlet.”
“Will you force us to go?” Jenrosa asked, appalled.
“No. I cannot do that. You are my guests. If you wish to stay, I will do what I can to protect you.” Roheth’s face was bleak as he said the words.
“We’ll go of our own volition,” Lynan said, startled by his own decision. Ager and Kumul stared at him in surprise. Jenrosa looked aghast. “From what you say, Roheth, we’re no safer here than in the forest, but while we’re here, we increase the danger to you and your family.” He turned to his companions. “A prince’s decision. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to be making these days?” The woodspeople looked at their guests with puzzled expressions.
Ager nodded resignedly. “What a time for you to practice your leadership skills.”
“Any of you who want to stay are welcome to,” Roheth said. “Not all of you have to go.”
“Just the one Silona touched?” Lynan asked.
“Yes. The others are safer here if you leave the hamlet. It is you Silona will be after.”
“We’ll all go,” Kumul said definitely, and Ager nodded his agreement. Only Jenrosa gave no indication of what she was thinking.
Chapter 17
The light of the morning sun struggling through the tree canopy found the four companions saying their farewells to the people of the hamlet.
“Keep your campfires burning high and bright,” Roheth advised them. “Legends say she finds strong light uncomfortable. Other than that, there is not much else that will help. Except maybe this.” He offered Lynan his own coat, a finely made woolen garment dyed the dark green of the forest.
“Does it carry a magic charm?” Lynan asked, wide-eyed.
Roheth laughed. “No, but you’ll need it to keep you warm if I take yours.”
“Mine? I don’t understand.”
“If we keep something of yours with us, it may fool Silona into thinking you’re still here, for a night or two at least.”
Lynan gratefully exchanged coats and shook Roheth’s hand. Belara handed them seed bread and strips of dried rabbit which they crammed in their pockets.
“Good luck, Lynan,” the forester said somberly.
Lynan smiled weakly, already frightened of what might lie ahead.
The companions kept to the main trail heading north out of the hamlet. They talked sparingly, each feeling the tension build in them as the day wore on. They stopped briefly for a meal around noon, then continued on their way until they came across a narrower, less-used trail that headed northeast. Ager suggested they take the less-used trail, reasoning that if Silona came hunting for Lynan she would follow the main trail first.
The way was gloomy and overgrown, and they often had to struggle through brambles and tall bushes. Tempers frayed. As evening approached, Lynan’s stomach started to compress into the now-familiar knot of apprehension. His knees no longer seemed strong enough to support his whole weight.
“We should stop soon and make camp,” he suggested.
“I thought you’d want to be as far away as possible from the hamlet,” Jenrosa said.
“What I want is enough time to gather so much firewood that our campfire will shine all night like the sun.”
“One thing about a campfire is that it’ll draw attention to us,” Jenrosa said helpfully.
“Then what would you suggest we do?” Lynan snapped.
She shrugged, looking miserable. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. It seems to me if we’re not being chased by guardsmen or warships or mercenaries, then it is bears and vampires. What’s next, do you think? When do we stop running?”
“We stop when we reach the Oceans of Grass.”
“What makes you think Areava won’t stop hunting for you, even as far as the Oceans of Grass?”
“It’s easy to hide in the grasslands,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “They go on forever. Areava can’t spare the troops or the money to search for me forever.”
“Face it, Lynan, you’re not simply fleeing Kendra, you’re going into exile. All your life you’re going to be a wanted man. I don’t want to be a part of that, but I don’t know how I can get out of it. As long as your life is in danger, so is mine.”
“Then why didn’t you stay behind in the hamlet? You could have stayed there until the danger with Silona was passed and then made your own way elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere? I only have one home, and that’s Kendra. And eventually even the foresters will hear of Berayma’s murder and the four outlaws accused of it. Besides, I’m not interested in wielding an ax and hunting rabbits and being surrounded by nothing but trees, vampires, and screaming children. With you, at least, I have the protection of Kumul and Ager.”
“And me,” Lynan added quietly.
Jenrosa glanced at his sideways. “I need to be by myself for a while,” she said, and increased her pace to pull ahead of him. Her place was taken by Ager.
“Adventures aren’t all they’re cracked up to be, are they?” the crookback said.
“Adventures?”
“What we’re all going through now, your Highness. It’s an adventure, really, when you look at it properly. Think of all the things we’ve done in the last few days. I’d call it an adventure.”
“I don’t think I’d call it that. More like finding increasingly unpleasant ways to die.”
“But that’s what adventures are when you’re actually experiencing them. They don’t become adventures until afterward, when you’re sixty-three years old and sitting in front of a huge fire with your grandchildren all around you.”
“It’s not the adventuring that worries me, Ager. It’s the fear. I always seem to be frightened, sometimes so frightened I want to throw up. I want to rest. I want to be able to go to sleep on a soft warm bed and know that not only will I wake up the next morning, but that I won’t have to get up just to do more running.”
“I don’t know when you’ll be able to do that again,” Ager said.
“Jenrosa doesn’t think I’ll ever be able to. She said I’ll be an outlaw for the rest of my life.”
“She’s scared too, Lynan. I don’t think she really believes that. Things will seem better when we leave the forest. This is a dark place, and makes for dark thoughts.”
“And hides dark things, Ager,” Lynan reminded him.
They found a space among the trees which, if not large enough to be called a clearing, at least allowed in some light and made them feel less closed in by the forest. They gathered as much wood and tinder as possible and started a large fire.
Kumul arranged the watch. “From what Roheth told me, this demon usually comes in the hours before dawn, so I’d rather Ager or myself faced it. You take the first watch Jenrosa, followed by Lynan, t
hen Ager, and lastly myself.”
“What will you do if it comes?” Jenrosa asked him.
“Cut its bloody head off,” he said grimly.
The forest was completely still. No animal came snuffling at the perimeter of their camp, no wind moved among the trees, no insects called out in the night. Lynan sat as closely as possible to the fire without risking his forester’s coat catching alight. He turned constantly, peering into the dark. Whenever a log cracked in the fire, he jumped and then cursed his own cowardice.
Time stretched until seconds seemed like minutes and minutes seemed like hours. Lynan wondered if he would ever be relieved from the watch. Perhaps Silona was sorceress as well as vampire and had frozen time until she could find the mind she had touched so softly the night before.
Twice before, he told himself, remembering those green eyes in the forest.
When at last Ager did rouse himself from sleep, stretching like a misshapen bear and grinning like a child waking on its birthday, Lynan felt so much relief he wanted to laugh.
“How did it go?” Ager asked him.
“No problems at all,” Lynan lied.
Ager nodded and made himself comfortable on an upturned log.
For a while Lynan watched the confident crookback with envy, then closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep as if he had nothing in the world to worry about.
The sixth day after the companions left the hamlet the trees started to thin out and they could track the sun against the sky. The air was cooler, drier, and they could smell a river and ripening fields as well as bark and moss and humus. The old trail they had been following for so long now turned east, so they headed north among the trees, confident they would soon come to the borders of the forest.
Early in the afternoon Lynan stopped suddenly and looked up. The others halted, hands going to weapons.
“It’s all right,” Lynan told them. “Listen.”
They all cocked their heads and listened. They kept still for over a minute. Jenrosa opened her mouth to make some comment about her feet turning into roots when the clear, beautiful fluting of a bird reached all their ears. Jenrosa smiled with pleasure and Kumul and Ager laughed.
