by Ashley Capes
“How much?”
“Ever seen a bear?”
“Yes.”
“They’re similar – only they’re harder to see.”
Never glanced at their guide. Karlaf chewed on a honey-stick as he walked. Little more than a twig soaked in the resin, it was a mild painkiller used by Hanik farmers and hunters on long hunts. “I’ve never seen the Bakar. Are you saying they blend with the trees?”
“No. But they don’t make sound when they move. It’s unnatural.”
Never whistled; in the close quarters of a forest that would be a problem.
“Legend says they’re the bitter spirits of folks killed in the landslide that buried the ancient city of Sarann. Wrath of the Gods and all.”
“Good. We need more angry spirits in the world.”
Karlaf snorted.
The morning wore on and the sun found a way between the canopy; clearings like pools of light off the trail. The tall undergrowth was a green carpet and the deeper they travelled the less the sun broke through.
The old guide called a halt before a large stone seeming to grow out from the earth, its surface covered in deep-green moss. “Let’s eat.” He sat and leant against the stone before hauling his pack onto his lap. He pulled out a slab of bread and cheese, taking a big bite.
Never did the same but Luis completed a circuit of the area first, spear held ready.
“Looking for Bakar already?” Never called.
“Maybe,” Luis replied when he returned and started on his own meal. “I’m not as fond of surprises as I used to be.”
“Well said,” Never replied around a mouthful.
“How far to Whinn Creek?” Luis asked.
“We’ll reach it well before dark. Then you can decide your path. The trails tend to multiply once you get beyond the creek.”
Once on the road again, Never soon dropped back. “I think I heard something.”
“Not more Baeils?”
“No. I’ll catch up.” He stopped before a clump of trees beside the road and waited. Faint, but audible, the thump of pursuit. A heavy tread. Steelhawks? If so, how did they know where to follow? Or was it just a hunch that had set them on his path? “Pacela damn them.” No doubt Harstas would be with them if he thought there a chance of catching up.
Never jogged after Karlaf and Luis, explaining when he reached the two.
Karlaf folded his arms. “Convenient that you forgot to mention this in the Stag.”
“You might not have taken the job.”
“You’re right about that.” He shook his head. “Should have asked Tsolde for more gold.”
“Harstas won’t take kindly to anyone who he thinks is helping me,” Never said. Had he underestimated Harstas? Placed Luis and now Karlaf in danger again? He could have snorted – when wasn’t he in danger? It seemed to swirl especially thickly around him of late.
The guide’s jaw worked. “A fine mess you’ve got me into then, isn’t it?”
“Find the Red Clove and I’ll be healed. Then I can deal with Harstas.”
“I don’t have much choice, do I?”
“No.”
“Then we’d best disappear,” the guide said, setting off at a jog.
Whinn Creek cut through the road when it appeared. A low bridge of sandy stone spanned the water – which was more stream than creek. Never found himself breathing hard. The weight of the pack, the exertion and the returning fever was taking its toll. Typical, truly; the moment the stakes were raised his body began to let him down.
He paused, leaning against a tree.
Luis took a step closer. “Never?”
“I’m fine, Luis.”
“You’re pale,” Karlaf said, brow creased.
“And I thought I had a lovely Marlosi tan.”
“Time to make a decision.” He pointed over the bridge, to where the road forked. Up until the creek, the path had been broad and well-maintained, wide enough for wagons, which explained the bridge. But beyond, only one road remained so. The right fork was less even, more overgrown. Both led deeper into the endless rows of birch. “We can follow the Old Road toward the mountain. Talk is that there might still be some patches of Cloves near the foot of Mount Tindrea. Or, the other fork will head deeper into the centre of the forest. Decades ago there were farms for the Clove but they were burnt. The ashes are said to hide seeds – some might still grow.”
“Which is more likely?”
“Seems equal to me – both slim chances.”
Never waved a hand. “Then whichever is closer.”
“The mountains. It’d be a week. Two, maybe three to the old farms.”
“Luis?”
“I’m fine. Could you last a week?”
“I’ve lasted a lot longer so far.”
“But you haven’t looked this sick before,” he said.
Never wiped sweat from his brow. A fair point. “What else do we need to know about the mountains, Karlaf?”
“The Clove was last seen near the site of Sarann.”
“Where the Bakar roam free and bloodthirsty, I take it?”
“They do.”
Never clenched his fists; heat radiated from every pore and sweat coated his skin. Since he’d stopped, his blood had begun to boil again – or so it seemed. Usually this meant he was close to being done with an illness. Maybe Luis was right to question whether he could survive. His body was fighting as hard as it had ever fought – harder than any time in the Isle. What sort of toll was that taking? Aside from the fatigue and Moor-Sickness itself.
He managed a grin. “If I capture one of the Bakar, do you think I could ride it the rest of the way?”
Chapter 5.
The Steelhawks – or whoever it was that followed – did not fall behind over the first two nights. Never paced and shivered through his watch and sweated and shivered through his sleep. When he woke to resume the march toward Sarann, his breathing became laboured and Luis had to support him as he walked.
“Your body is too hot,” he’d say each time.
And each time Never would wave them on, drinking from his flask. Karlaf kept them near creeks and tiny rivulets with grassy banks that slithered between the birch and its mottled bark.
“The road will soon sweep away from the water course,” he said on the morning of the third day where they stood just off the road. Luis was checking the back-trail. Never glared down at his pack; it was getting lighter as they ate through the supplies, but the damn thing was still a burden.
“I’ll manage,” Never said. He took another drink of water. “It’ll burn itself off soon.”
“You sure?”
“I am,” he lied. Every other time it had burnt itself off. Now would be no different. Damn it. No different. “We’ll keep going as soon as Luis returns.”
Karlaf gave him an appraising look, then shrugged. “Been meaning to ask about your name. ‘Never’. Doesn’t seem like a name.”
“Agreed.”
“Did your parents want to punish you then?”
“My brother named me.”
“Really?” He chuckled. “All my brothers used to give me were thrashings when I stole their honey-sticks.”
“My brother is unique among brothers,” he said. Snow had always been the one to take the unforeseeable step. Like the day, as a boy, that he swallowed a gold coin to keep it from the blacksmith’s son. Or the day he left...
Luis jogged into view between the trees. When he reached them he paused a moment to catch his breath. “It is Steelhawks,” he said, expression sombre. “And they’re gaining ground.”
“Because I’m slowing us down.”
“Then we’ll make a stand. Ambush them,” Luis said.
“Count me out,” Karlaf said. “I’m not a warrior.”
“You car
ry a wicked-looking knife,” Luis said. “I’m sure you know how to use it.”
“I do. But I didn’t sign up for a fight I’m likely to lose. Those Vadiya are crazy, armed to the hilt. And more armour than sense.”
“Come now,” Never said with a gasp. “There’re usually only a dozen of them.”
“At least ten,” Luis said.
Karlaf shook his head. “Not much better.”
“Then we change course.” Luis offered. “Is there another path to Sarann?”
“Of course. But Never may not be able to travel it.”
“I’m still alive, you two.”
Luis moved over to put an arm around Never, starting them walking, but continued to address Karlaf. “The forest seems quite level.”
“It rises more sharply toward the foot of the mountains and the lesser trails can be difficult.”
Never shook his head. “I’m not infirm yet. We’ll try it.”
Noon came swiftly. Too swiftly. Only snatches of the hours since morning were clear. Pausing to drink. Stumbling. Luis and Karlaf discussing the best time to leave the road. Blinking up at the sun, then muttering a curse when his balance faltered. Luis catching his arm. “Steady.”
“It’s not me, it’s the sky,” Never said during a pause. Somehow, it refused to stay still.
“He needs to rest,” Luis said.
“We can leave the road up ahead,” Karlaf replied.
And then they were moving again and he rested his chin on his chest. Easier to focus on his feet that way. Moving them and such. Luis turned them off the road and into the trees. The ground beneath was scattered with leaves and twigs and clumps of grass.
Someone was panting as they jogged along, ducking beneath an overhanging branch.
“He’s breathing too hard,” someone said.
Who was?
“Just a little further; there’s an old campsite.”
“Good. He’s getting heavier.”
Heavier? What was Luis carrying? He hadn’t complained before. Never stumbled and Luis swore.
Green bloomed around him, blazes of white beaming down. How hot the day had grown.
“Are we stopping?” His words were slow, jumbled.
And then the lights began to fade.
*
Air.
Never sucked in coolness. The dark above was broken by an orange glow brushing the ghostly trunks of the birch around them. He sat up, a blanket falling from his chest. Beside him, Luis and Karlaf sat around a small fire pit, speaking softly.
“Is my water flask nearby?” he asked. Only it was a croak.
Luis turned. “Never. How are you feeling?”
“Thirsty.”
Karlaf handed Luis a cup that steamed in the night air, and Luis passed it to Never. He sniffed at it before drank. Herbs and something sweet. The concoction the healer had used as a stay for the fever. He drank it in a single gulp and lay back. Pleasant.
He closed his eyes.
*
Now the light was that of morning.
He rubbed grit from his eyes and rose. Hemmed in by a stand of birch, the camp was small and empty of life. Two packs sat around the cold fire pit. He fumbled for his own pack and removed a flask, taking a long drink. A blessing for his parched throat.
He stood.
Balance was back. Good. Though sweat still dampened his hair.
“Never?” Luis stood from where he’d been crouching between the trees. “You look better.”
“It’s still there.”
“At least you can stand. And speak clearly.”
He grinned as best he could. “It seems I mumble when I’m in danger of dying from a fever.”
“Well that draught seemed to help.”
“So far. Where is Karlaf?”
“Scouting ahead to make sure the Steelhawks haven’t turned back.”
“They passed us?”
“Yes. You slept since yesterday afternoon.”
“That may work to our advantage.”
“Hopefully Karlaf can tell us more. How do you feel?”
“Well enough.”
A figure slipped through the trees. Karlaf. “Quickly,” he said, waving his arms. “Lay low. No sounds.”
Never fell to the ground.
The clank of steel against steel gradually grew louder. Steelhawks. Not the whole dozen, but enough to cause trouble. Never drew a knife – his favourite with the bone inlay. Too early to let blood – and besides which, it was always hard to inflict a cut on the Steelhawks. Better, safer to kill them the old-fashioned way.
If he could.
Luis would be handy with the reach of his spear and Karlaf was more spry than his wrinkles suggested if he’d ran back without breaking a sweat during late summer. Even so, it would be a difficult fight.
The soldiers drew nearer and their footfalls came to a halt. Raised voices carried through the trees.
“How will you know which path?” It was Harstas, shouting in Vadiya. “Or that they even turned aside?”
“Because there was no longer a trail to follow on the main road, sir,” one of his men replied, voice tight.
“Bah, there was little to follow in the first place. Just admit it, Dimaya. You’re using the Echo, yes?”
“No, Commander. Use of the Echo is forbidden; I would never tarnish my family’s name.”
“I know it is forbidden and your family are little more than peasants and what’s more, I do not care – why do you think I chose you for this task? Tell me. Have you found the trail again?”
“I can’t be sure. I need to spend more time in the wood, more time testing the echoes. One of them, the guide, he has been on all the trails.”
“Yet you had less trouble following Never across the sea.”
“I was not certain he was on that ship, sir. Only that he was in the port recently.”
“How mysteriously temperamental your gift,” Harstas snapped. “Very well, continue. If you find the trail, send for the others.”
“Where will you be, Commander?”
“Our own guide may know of back trails we can use. If I cannot chase Never down, I’ll intercept him.”
The footfalls soon faded again – most heading further along the back trail but Harstas seeming to return the way he came. Each on the main road. Members of the Steelhawks now lay before and behind them. Granted, neither group knew about the alternate path as yet... but still, they had a guide too. And the Echo would be a problem. Few Vadiya were said to have the skill – he hadn’t truly believed rumours of it in the past.
Best to remain on guard. Attack could come from any angle now.
And there was still the shadow from the outskirts of Lenan. Had it given up its pursuit?
If it was Tsolde come looking for escape through adventure... he’d thump her backside and send her back.
“Did you understand any of that?” Karlaf asked. “I don’t speak Vadiya.”
“All of it.” Never summed up then frowned. “We might be in trouble now.”
“They surround us,” Luis said as he pushed himself up from the loam.
“Guide or no guide, they don’t know the trails like I do. Follow me,” Karlaf said.
The forest grew darker as the afternoon lengthened. Never followed Karlaf along winding paths, pushing through branches and detouring thorny shrubs that clawed across the ground. The guide made so many changes, alternating between more substantial paths and animal trails so often that he couldn’t help a slip of doubt rising. He and Luis would be lost without Karlaf; had too much trust been placed in the old guide?
No choice.
The squeak of the Baeils rose around them as they climbed a fallen tree.
On the other side of the trunk the trail led down to a wide pool. A cloaked figu
re turned from its edge when they approached. Bow in hand, the stranger waited with free hand on hip.
Pale blue tunic, green cloak. Green eyes, Hanik colouring.
Hand on her hip.
Karlaf fell to one knee. “Lady Elina.”
Chapter 6.
“None of that, Karlaf,” Elina said. She moved forward, setting her bow across one shoulder, quiver slung on the other. She didn’t seem quite as young, quite as uncertain here in the forest.
He rose. “My Lady, what are you doing here? I thought you were to–”
She raised a hand, giving him a sharp look. “All is well.” She looked to Never. “I see you survived the Amber Isle.”
“I’m flattered that you remember me well enough to follow us from Lenan. I also find myself most curious about your appearance here. Keeping an eye on the Vadiya perhaps? Or even, is it me you’ve come to watch?”
“I’m not likely to forget you and your curse, am I?” She ignored his other questions. “Who is your companion?”
Luis bowed. “My name is Luis.”
She nodded to him. “Welcome to Hanik’s great forest.”
Their guide’s expression was still one of surprise. “You know Never, Lady?”
“She saved my life,” Never said. The bigger question was why had she done so? What did she want?
“Truly?”
“Something I hope he does not give me reason to regret,” she said. “Now, be honest Never. Why are you here?”
He let her assumption about his honesty slip, galling though it was. “I’m searching for a cure for my fever. Karlaf believes he can find some Red Clove.”
“You’re having trouble fighting this one off then?”
“Yes.” Just how much did she know about his curse? What had he told her? Damnable fever, it was hard to remember. “Are you going to help us find it?”
She smiled, though her green eyes did not exactly twinkle with warmth. “I believe so.”
“That’s not necessary, My Lady. There’s no need to put yourself in danger for us,” Karlaf said.
“The Steelhawks? I believe we can handle whatever they can come up with, don’t you?”
