by Shae Ford
“Galeherd,” Kael said, matching the twin windmills to the ones sketched on his map.
“Aye. Or what’s left of it, anyways,” Morris amended as they passed a few houses with naught but their chimneys still standing. “Those mages really cooked them good.”
“That’s one thing I don’t understand,” Kael said, turning back to the window. “I thought the giants were supposed to be great warriors.”
“They are, lad. Believe me, you’d rather fight a shark in the water than a giant on his plains.”
“Then how did Titus defeat them, if they’re so strong?”
Morris snorted. “Strength had nothing to do with it, lad. Titus marched through here with an army of mages — and even a giant’s fury is no match for magic. Titus had them routed and clapped in irons within a fortnight.” He groaned as he shifted his weight from one knee to the other. “I tell you, it was a dark day in our Kingdom’s history when Crevan rallied the mages. We’d lived with the whisperers’ protection for so long … well, not an army across the six regions was ready to battle magic. Not a one.”
Kael supposed that made sense. He was quiet for a long moment, just watching as the ruined houses drifted in and out of the window. Then a very sobering thought hit him: this was probably what Tinnark looked like, now.
He didn’t like to think of his village lying in ruin. He didn’t like to think about the fact that Roland’s house was probably burned, or that all of Amos’s tonics were smashed upon the ground, or that there was likely a huge, blackened crater where the Hall had once stood. He didn’t like to think about those things, and so he didn’t.
Instead, he grit his teeth and focused himself on the task at hand.
*******
They arrived at the tree clump an hour or so before sunset. The driver led the cart into the thick of the trees, wedging it in as far as it would fit. Then the whole thing rocked as he leapt down and made his way towards the door.
Horrible, off-pitch whistling trailed the driver’s footsteps. He seemed to fumble at the lock much longer than was actually necessary. By the time he opened the door, the men were already grumbling.
“Evening, gents!” Jonathan said, sticking his clownish face in to greet them. “Let’s get those vittles burning — I’m not a moment away from eating my own boots.”
“No, we’ll get the camp set up first and then we’ll eat,” Lysander called from the back of the cart, where he was helping Aerilyn navigate her way over Thelred. “We may not be at sea, but I’m still the captain. And I say we ought to get some cover in place before we start lighting fires!”
After a long and painful discussion, they’d finally decided that Jonathan had to be the one to drive them across the plains: if any of Gilderick’s men spotted them, Jonathan was the only one clever enough to talk them out of trouble. Even if the soldiers didn’t believe whatever harebrained story he came up with, he could always just whip out his fiddle.
And then whatever horrendous song he crooned would send even the meanest giant fleeing in the other direction.
Though they were confident that Jonathan could drive them safely through the plains, the decision did lead to one unfortunate side effect: the fiddler seemed to think that his newfound power gave him the right to be as annoying as possible.
Giving out orders was just the half of it. The first night they stopped, he’d very loudly exclaimed that he was far too tired to set up his own tent, and commanded that Thelred do it for him — which surprisingly, he did. Though not surprisingly, he built it up directly over a rather menacing nettle bush, and then he hid the mallet.
Jonathan slept outdoors until about the middle of the night, when a rainstorm forced him to take refuge inside the nettle-ridden tent. When he woke, he’d forgotten where he was and accidentally rolled over. It had taken him half the morning just to pull all of the thorns out of his rump.
Tonight, Jonathan declared that his bottom was far too sore to do any unpacking — but that still didn’t stop him from being an arse.
He followed Lysander around for a while, repeating the captain’s orders like an echo. When Lysander very calmly asked whether he thought he could still be obnoxious without his tongue, Jonathan seemed to get the hint. He amused himself for a while by sneaking up behind people and startling them with his horsewhip, but then he did it to Aerilyn one too many times.
She snatched the whip out of his hands and hurled it into the tallest tree, where it got stuck.
The pirates cheered.
“And how am I supposed to drive the cart without a whip?” Jonathan cried over their applause.
“You can’t,” Lysander said simply. “So I suppose you’ll have to retrieve it.”
Jonathan complained — until he was told that his other option was to help Morris scrape the calluses off the bottoms of his feet. It was amazing how quickly he was able to climb the tree, even with a sore rump.
They’d had a long day of travel and the night promised to be fair, so most of the pirates decided against setting up their tents: their bedrolls would do them for the night. Once the camp was made and the fires had been started, Kael volunteered to check and make sure they couldn’t be seen from the road.
It was a mile’s jog back to the highway, but he didn’t mind it much — it felt good to be able to stretch his legs. He kept his eyes on the red, ridged mountains in the distance as he ran. They were marked as the Red Spine on his map, and though they were nowhere near as tall as the Unforgivable Mountains, they were a good deal longer. The whole range stretched from the sea and on, creating a natural border between the desert and the plains.
Once Kael made it to the highway, he turned — and was pleased to see how well their camp was hidden. The trees in the Endless Plains were particularly short and stubby, with their tops squished flat by what must’ve been the immeasurable weight of the sky above them. They were spaced far apart, but there’d been a large number of healthy nettle bushes growing underneath them. So as the pirates cleared a space for their shelter, they’d stacked the nettles up between the trees, creating a sort of makeshift wall to block their tents from view.
It wasn’t perfect, but Kael didn’t think a scout could spot them from the road. And it was far enough from the highway that the patrols likely wouldn’t take the time to investigate it. Yes, their little makeshift village would be enough to hide the main party — while Kael and a small company of pirates wreaked havoc on Lord Gilderick.
Kael was nearly back to camp when he saw Aerilyn emerge from the nettle wall, a sack of vittles in one hand. She propped the other over her forehead, shielded her eyes against the falling sun, and had absolutely no trouble spotting him.
“I thought we might have a picnic,” she called, when he was within shouting distance.
He didn’t want to be alone with Aerilyn, not even for a picnic. He thought quickly. “Shouldn’t you eat with Lysander? You won’t see him again for a few weeks.”
“That’s what the night is for,” she said, though she blushed magnificently as she said it. “No, I’d very much like to have dinner with you, if that’s all right.”
He grumbled that it was.
They arranged their picnic on the ground, sitting with their backs to camp and their faces towards the sunset. Kael was wary at first, but after several minutes of listening to Aerilyn’s happy chatter, he began to relax. They gnawed on hunks of dried meat and chased their biscuits down with gulps from their canteens.
“Morris agreed to take me hunting tomorrow,” Aerilyn said as she chewed. “I saw a few rabbits in the weeds earlier. After all of this salty fare, it’ll be nice to have some fresh meat.”
“Just be careful with your arrows. If you run out, it’ll take Noah a few days to bring you more,” Kael said. His biscuit got lodged in his throat, and it took him a moment to get it washed down. That seemed to be happening a lot, lately. Food just didn’t agree with him. “You have to be especially careful with rabbits. It’s easy to break an arrow on a rock —�
�
“I know all that. Stop worrying about me,” she nudged him gently with her elbow, “you’ve taught me well.”
He doubted that his teaching had much to do with it. Aerilyn was a naturally good shot, and once he’d convinced her to listen to her instincts, she’d become a pretty good hunter, as well. He knew she could keep the caravan fed.
They talked even after their picnic had vanished, trading thoughts as the shadows grew longer. And Kael actually began to think that he’d made it out of the woods.
But then came the dreaded pause — a heavy break in their words that Aerilyn didn’t rush to fill. It hung there for a long moment, and he suddenly knew what was coming.
He tried to escape. “Well, I think I’ll turn in —”
“I miss her, Kael.” Aerilyn’s eyes were distant as she watched the sun, like she was trying to strain them over the edge of the horizon to find their lost friend. Her gaze came back as she turned, and her eyes were hard by the time they found Kael. “I know you miss her, too —”
“I don’t.” He felt a wall rise in his heart at the very thought.
Lysander had promised that she would come back. And like a fool, Kael had believed him. For several weeks, he’d woken early and looked out of his window — hoping that he might catch her as she glided in from her journey, or perhaps spot an unfamiliar ship in the harbor. But he never did.
Still, he didn’t give up his hope. When he found his window empty, he would search the mansion. He’d walk the hallways long before the servants rose, hoping that he might hear her voice coming from one of the many rooms. But the only sounds were the moans of an old house, and the heavy thudding of his own steps.
He even went down to the basement a few times, hoping to find her working at her forge. But it was always the same: the trough of fire was shuttered tightly, the anvil lay cold. What had once been alive and bright was now dark … and miserably empty.
As the days became weeks, and the weeks became months, the truth began to crush him. It sat on his chest day and night, slowly pressing the hope from his heart. And he knew that if he didn’t do something to stop it, the truth would kill him.
So he built up a wall inside his heart. He’d buried her behind it — he bricked up his memories of her and shored them against a corner of his mind. And that was precisely where he intended to keep them. That was precisely where he had to keep them.
But Aerilyn just didn’t understand.
“It’s perfectly fine to be upset,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “You have every right to be hurt. I know you care for her —”
“I don’t.”
“— but you’re going to make yourself sick if you try to keep it in.” She squeezed his arm tightly, and he bristled against her touch. “You must let your heart have its say, Kael. Let your feelings out. Cry about it —”
“I won’t cry,” he said, shrugging out from under her hand. “Where I come from, a wound that doesn’t cost a man his life is something to be celebrated — not mourned. And she isn’t dead,” he got to his feet, “but she’s never coming back. The sooner you understand that, the better.”
He broke into a run, desperate to beat back a sudden swell of anger, and that’s when he heard Aerilyn shrill from behind him:
“You’re wrong about her — she will come back to us! She will!”
Kael couldn’t tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell anyone, because he was too ashamed to tell. But he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she was wrong — Kyleigh was never coming back.
And it was entirely his fault.
Chapter 3
Knotter
The dream faded like mist on a pond, slowly seeping back into whatever deep pool it’d risen from. Kyleigh was a traveler who arrived too late. She didn't see the mist rise, didn't know its meaning … but she knew it was there. Her fingers curled and uncurled as the last tendrils slipped away.
Then she opened her eyes.
In the cool dark of the room, she realized what had happened: someone said her name. She waited for a moment to see if the call would come again.
“Lady Kyleigh?”
She wished the villagers would stop calling her that. She may have been a lot of things, but a lady certainly wasn’t one of them. “Come in,” she said, untangling herself from her covers.
“I dare not, my lady. It isn’t proper.”
She grinned as she felt around for a shirt, finally coming up with a slightly worn tunic, and pulled it over her head. It fell just shy of her knees, which was surely proper enough to go out in.
Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark. She could see the shadows of the many objects scattered across the floor of her room. They were various bits of clothes and weaponry — projects she’d started, and never quite got around to finishing. There were simply too few hours in the day, and too little of her concentration to go around.
She blamed it entirely on the fact that she’d been cooped up all winter and fed far too well.
Kyleigh skipped over a pile of clothes and a rather menacing two-headed axe before she landed near the door. When she threw it open, the man on the other side of it jumped.
He was a middle-aged fellow with a rather long face. He wielded a candle in one hand, and kept the other tucked behind his back. The pale glow from the flame made the shadows across his face even darker — and the disapproving frown he wore even more severe.
“My lady,” he said, dragging his eyes from where they’d been glaring at the wrinkles on her shirt, “I’m sorry to wake you at such an odd hour of the night, but there is a matter in the courtyard that needs your attention. I’m afraid the gate is acting up again.”
“Thank you, Crumfeld.” She tried to dart past him, but he stepped in her way. “Was there something else?”
“I’m sure your courtly knowledge is unparalleled,” he began — which was to say that it wasn’t, “but it seems to me that the Lady of Copperdock shouldn’t be wandering around outside of her chambers in little more than a nightdress.”
Oh, Crumfeld. She tried to convince herself that she would miss him when she went away, but he was making it more difficult with every passing moment.
She had no idea where he’d actually come from. She’d simply skipped downstairs one morning and found a man dressed all in black, whipping Roost into shape. He got the cooks to serve dinner while it was hot, had the maids cleaning everything to a shine, and somehow managed to get the men working on the repairs to contain their messes — all with one arm propped smartly behind his back.
Though a good amount of grumbling came from several corners of Roost, no one seemed willing to do anything other than what they were told. Kyleigh thought it was rather funny to see her crew being made to behave — that is, until Crumfeld turned his impossibly keen eyes on her.
He said he was determined to make her into a proper lady. But from where Kyleigh stood, it looked suspiciously like he was just trying to ruin her fun.
His rules were ridiculous. Not only was she no longer allowed to dress however she pleased, she also couldn’t wander outside of Roost without an escort — and was positively banned from leaving her kills at the kitchen door.
“But I like the way the cook prepares them,” she’d said once, when Crumfeld caught her trying to sneak a deer carcass over the back wall.
He was far from sympathetic. “Then you will tell the lead huntsman what you want, and he will catch it for you. On days where you don’t have any courtly duties, I may even permit you to join the hunt. However,” and here he’d curled his lip at the badly-mangled deer, “I’ll not allow the Lady of Copperdock to come scampering to the back door with a bloody carcass clamped between her teeth. And that’s my final word on the matter.”
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t scamper anywhere, thank you very much. But his stern look made her think better of it. When he told her to kindly go upstairs and wash the blood out of her hair before dinner, she’d gone with a mumbled: “Fine.”
&n
bsp; But that wasn’t happening today. No, Kyleigh was too peeved about her interrupted dream to let Crumfeld get the better of her. “All right,” she said, pretending to turn back to her room. Then she spun around suddenly, slipping past him before he could block her.
“What are you doing, my lady? Come back here at once and put on some proper clothes!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Crummy. That’ll take far too long,” she called as she trotted down the stairs. “There’s a nip in the air tonight, and I’ll not make the men wait around while I cinch up my garters.”
Crumfeld didn’t believe in running — only in walking very briskly. So it wasn’t long before Kyleigh outdistanced him.
Her bare feet slapped against the cold stone floor as she ran through the hallway at the bottom of the stairs. The gaping holes in the roof made it draftier than the average passageway, but she rather liked how it let in the sun — though the light at this hour of the morning was more like a gray mist than anything. She inhaled deeply as she ran, and thought she could practically smell the hot, sticky afternoon hidden behind the cool dawn.
That was three days in a row, now. The slightly cooler winter was all but gone. By her guess, this meant her friends were already on their way to the plains. Change was coming quickly — and finally, at long last, it was time to do her part.
She’d been aching for an adventure all season.
The unfinished passageway spilled out into the great hall — a large, rectangular chamber with ceilings that stretched high into the shadows. Crumfeld hadn’t quite decided on how he wanted to furnish it, so her footsteps echoed loudly against the bare walls. She slowed to a walk.
The guard at the front door spotted her from a long ways off and set about fumbling with the latch. He had to prop his spear up against his shoulder and work the mechanism with one hand — the other was wrapped tightly in a sling.
