by S A McClure
“You know I can hear you, right?” Micah interrupted, his voice husky and deep.
Emma whirled on him, her cheeks already flushing.
“I’m literally walking right beside you. I know you have the power to track people, but you certainly don’t have the ability to be quiet,” he said.
She cocked an eyebrow at him, surprised that he was speaking that brusquely to her. Even when she’d been rude to him before, he’d always been polite to her. She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him.
He shoved past her. She grasped him arm to halt him, and his nostrils flared.
“Look, I’m not trying to be rude or mean to you,” she said. “But we barely know you—”
He ripped his arm free from her grasp, turning to her. “You know, for someone who is supposed to be fearless, passionate, and brave, you seem to have a hard time understanding even the most basic of emotions,” he said. “I’ve tried everything to get you to remember me and still you refuse to open your mind and heart to the possibility that all I want is to be by your side.”
Emma’s heart thudded loudly in her ears. Part of her wanted to trust him. To let him comfort her. To let him be her person. But every time he began to chip away at her barriers, she remembered what Grandmother Rel had done to them. She’d let the cockatrice stalk, hunt, and kill her. She’d left Iris for dead. So, although she wanted to let him in, panic hovered over her at the thought of letting her guard down. She was the huntress. She needed to keep her guard up at all costs. Even if left fissures racing across her heart.
She breathed in deeply, readying a snarky response when, from the corner of her eye, she saw Iris slink ahead of them. She gritted her teeth. She would have to have a discussion with her later about abandoning her in her time of need. Of course, Iris had been pushing her and Micah together since the day they fought against the cockatrice. Not that she remembered the battle much.
Micah placed a warm hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “I know it’s been difficult for you. I understand that you’ve been through so much in such a short amount of time. But do you have any idea how it feels to have you constantly goad me? To push me aside like I am nothing more than a pebble in your shoe?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but he leaned down and kissed her before she could speak.
His lips were warm and only the tiniest bit chapped as he leaned into her. The kiss lasted for a fleeting moment, but it left her feeling lightheaded.
He pulled back. His eyes were slit as he looked down at her. They trained on her lips.
His touch lingered on her like a phantom. A warm, making-her-toes-curl phantom.
She stepped back, creating some space between them.
“What was that for?” she asked. She looked down at her feet as she spoke, not willing to meet his gaze.
“That was me trying to convince you that all those subtle feelings you have for me are real. Just because you don’t consciously remember me, doesn’t mean that a piece of what we have isn’t locked away somewhere inside you. We were friends, Emma.” He reached up and stroked her hair. “I want us to always be friends.”
“Umm, Emma,” Iris said, and Emma jumped.
She turned to face her sister. “What is it?”
Her heart hammered wildly in her chest.
Iris pointed towards the village. A group of men strode down the street. Although they bore no uniforms, Emma suspected they were military men. She sucked in a deep breath. This wasn’t part of the plan.
Although relations between Szarmi and Dramadoon were better than they ever had been before, there was still a lot of resentment towards Szarmians. With Micah’s dark skin and brown eyes, it would be obvious he was a Szarmian and Emma didn’t want to draw attention to their movements. It was bad enough having the Silver Skull coven tracking them. She didn’t want a mob of ignorant, angry farmers chasing them down.
“What are we going to do?” Iris asked, stepping behind a tree until only the smallest portion of her face was visible beyond the forest line.
“I’m not sure,” Emma said.
“We go down there, book a room in the inn, and pretend like nothing is amiss,” Micah said. He didn’t look at Emma as he observed the village.
Iris motioned towards the guards. “We can’t go in there now!”
“Yes, we can,” he said, “and we will.”
He stepped forward until the torchlight on the guard tower lit up his face. Emma hesitated before linking arms with Iris and pulling her forward with her.
Iris stumbled a bit and Emma could see the exhaustion etched in the planes of her face. She needed rest in a proper bed. And this was how they were going to achieve that.
Micah ushered them forward. Although he didn’t say anything, his tension was obvious in the tautness of his shoulders. He lugged all three of their packs without complaint as they crossed a circle of white stone and entered the village.
Someone grabbed Emma’s arm.
“What are you doing here?” a male snapped as he threw her to the ground.
Chapter Three
Emma
A rock sliced Emma’s cheek when she fell. She moaned softly as she touched the place where blood was freely flowing from her flesh.
“What are you doing!” Micah roared as he charged towards the man who’d thrown her to the ground. The man drew his sword and pointed it at Micah.
“Seems to me you best be polite to us,” the man said. “My friends and I were paid to protect this village from bandits and thieves. State your business, or we’ll cut you down like the swine you are.”
“Do we look like bandits and thieves to you?” Emma asked, struggling to sit. She ripped a length of cloth from her undershirt and pressed it to her cheek. The cut stung, but nothing worth crying over.
The man looked them over and grunted. “I suppose not, but one can never be too careful.”
“I promise you, we’re just weary travelers looking for shelter for the night.” Emma bowed her head to him as she spoke.
The man pause. His sword still jutted out from his hand, pointed directly at her. Emma resisted the urge to fidget as she waited for him to respond. After another few seconds, he sighed heavily and lowered his arm.
“Tavern and inn is just a few paces down the way,” he said as he jerked his thumb behind his head. “Ask for Mrs. Sanders. She’ll get you set right straight.”
“Thank you,” Iris murmured as she stepped out from behind the tree. She headed down the path.
Emma pushed to her feet and rushed to catch up to her sister. Iris wobbled with each step she took. Emma caught her just before she collapsed to the ground. She sank to her knees, easing Iris down until she was laying flat on the road.
“Eh, what’s wrong with her?” the man asked, coming up behind them. “If she’s sick, we don’t want none of that here. We heard ’bout the plague killin’ people in the town to the north.”
Emma fumbled over her words, unsure how to assure the man that her sister didn’t have the plague. She briefly thought about telling him the truth, but she doubted saying that her sister was on the kill list of a powerful coven of witches would do much to ease his concerns.
To her surprise, Micah stepped forward and place a hand on the man’s shoulder. “She is just tired from the journey. We came from the south, anyway.”
Iris moaned softly as Emma clutched her closer to her chest. The man stared down at her blankly.
“You’re sure she doesn’t have it?” he asked. His eyes lingered on Iris’s pale cheeks and sweaty brow. “Maybe the doc should check her out before—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Micah replied calmly. “We will have a healer meet with her once she’s rested a bit from the journey.” He pulled a silver star from his breast pocket and placed it in the man’s hand. “We mean you no trouble and we will be gone by first light.”
Although the man still stared warily at Iris, he clasped the coin in his hand.
“Bah,” he finally
said, “I suppose if you’ll be gone the mornin’ there ain’t much harm in you being here for the night.”
Emma sighed in relief. She mouthed a quick ‘thank you’ to Micah before aiding Iris to her feet. She ushered her down the road, Micah right behind.
The streets were eerily silent as they walked down them. Emma wondered what had caused the heightened security. It seemed strange to her that no one would be in the streets at this time of night.
They passed by a house with a second story. A child sat at the window, his candle flickering in the dark night. Emma caught his gaze as they walked by. His eyes bulged and he quickly drew the shutters shut on the windows.
“Do you get the feeling that something is amiss here?” Iris muttered under her breath. “This place seems off.”
Emma tugged her closer to her, her eyes flicking from side-to-side as she tried to determine what, if any, threats lurked in the shadows. The town did seem strange, but they were here now and Iris’s condition had only worsened the longer they’d traveled. She needed rest and relaxation if she was going to continue their journey.
“Micah,” Iris said hoarsely, “what do you think of this place?”
He didn’t say anything, but Emma could see the caution in his eyes. Something about the town bothered him as well. She could only pray that whatever it was that was setting their teeth on edge would be much more benign than she was currently imagining.
Iris yawned, her jaw cracking.
“We’ll be at the tavern soon,” Emma whispered. She kissed Iris’s cheek for good measure. She’d nearly lost her tonight. If there was anything she could do to show her sister just how much she meant to her, she wanted to do it. She needed to.
“This place echoes of pain and sorrow,” Iris whispered. Her eyes glistened as she spoke.
“Well, that’s not ominous and terrifying at all,” Emma responded.
“Keep it moving,” Micah said. Tension dripped from his every word.
“And you’re certainly not helping with your stress-inducing tone,” she grumbled at him.
He nudged her from behind. She bit back her retort. She hated how familiar he acted with her. She hated it even more that there was an element of ease in engaging with him, as if she already knew him.
When the inn sign came into view, she sighed in relief. They were minutes from a bed.
As they neared, she studied the sign. It depicted a dragon wrapped around its own body, devouring its own tail. She frowned. Something about it seemed vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t place where she would have seen it before. She made a mental note to ask Iris about it later.
“Aeron’s Tavern,” she read.
“Come on,” Micah said as he pushed past Emma and headed into the inn.
Emma followed without a word. The moment she crossed through the door, she felt like the air had been sucked from her lungs. It was oppressively hot inside. Despite the summer air, a roaring fire filled the hearth. Hardly anyone was in the tavern area. Only three tables were occupied: two by men dressed in similar attire as the guard who’d stopped them, and one by a lone travel. Whoever they were, they sat in the shadows.
Micah motioned towards Emma and Iris as he approached the innkeeper. He was a squat man with a jovial face. Or, at least, it would have been jovial except for the absolute terror in his eyes.
“We just need the room for a night,” Micah whispered. “Please, my companion is in need of rest and a good meal.”
The innkeeper’s gaze darted towards Iris, his cheeks paling.
“I’m sorry, sir, but—” he started.
“But nothing,” Emma cut in, stepping forward. “One of the guards told us to ask for a Mrs. Sanders. Said she’d get us set up for the night.”
The innkeeper sputtered, his eyes growing wide.
“Are you sure he said to ask for her? Mrs. Sanders, that is?” he asked, his voice quivering.
“Yes,” Emma replied, raising one eyebrow at him.
“One moment, please,” he whispered, and then disappeared into one of the back rooms.
Emma tapped her foot as she waited for him to reappear. Micah gave her a reproachful look. She shook her head at him, annoyance filling her. His method didn’t work. She didn’t see any harm in doing what the guard had explicitly told them to do. Besides, now that they were here, the thought of a warm bed and hearty meal filled her with joy.
“Emma,” Iris whispered. Her voice was so weak that Emma had to lean into her just to understand what she said. “We can’t stay here. Please—”
“Nonsense.” Emma shushed her. “We’re here now. There’s no reason to let anything stop you from wanting to enjoy this. I know you want to find Liam, but if you’re not well enough to travel without stumbling and falling, then there’s no point.”
“You’re right,” Iris said, breathless. Her words were so labored.
“Shh,” Emma said. “Save your energy until you’re feeling stronger.”
The innkeeper stepped around the corner just as an axe dug itself into the wood of the counter. Emma spun around to see three men, all brandishing weapons standing behind them. Micah dropped their packs to the ground and drew his sword. He took a defensive stance.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the innkeeper hissed from behind them.
“What’s happening?” Iris murmured into Emma’s ear. Her breath was hot and moist against her skin.
“Nothing,” Emma whispered. She carefully knelt and laid Iris against the bar. At least she would be protected from behind in that position. She drew one of her daggers from her boot and swung it outward, menacingly.
“Tsk,” the innkeeper said, “you think we’re afraid of two weary travelers?”
“I thought you were going to help us,” Emma replied. She pressed her back against Micah’s and stared at the innkeeper. He smirked at her, his lips curling into an unpleasant smile.
“Mrs. Sanders doesn’t want any more guests for the evening,” he said as he trailed his fat fingers over his chin. “Of course, she could be persuaded if given the right amount of incentive.”
“All this for a little coin?” Emma snapped.
The innkeeper shook his head. “No, of course not. You seem like just the type of folks who can fight when needed.” He smiled at her in a way that made her skin crawl. “We are more than happy to provide aid to your little friend, as long as you do a favor for us. Consider it…payment for services rendered.”
“Uh huh,” Emma said, “And what, exactly, would these services be?”
“There’s a monster plaguing our village. Kill the beast, and we’ll heal your sister for you.”
“How do we know we can trust you?” Micah asked. He brandished his sword outward as several men joined the three standing in the doorway. They filled in the space around them.
“Ah, yes, well that’s the beauty of it all, isn’t it?” The innkeeper smiled. “You can’t.”
Emma shared a look with Micah. She was ready to fight their way out of this mess. If her sister was to be believed, she’d fought a cockatrice and won. Sure, she’d lost her memories of the fight and she’d nearly died, but that didn’t matter. She’d beaten the monster.
An idea occurred to her.
“If we fight this monster for you and win,” she said, “you’ll let us leave here unscathed. You’ll heal my sister and provide us with supplies for our continued journey.”
“But of course,” the innkeeper replied smoothly. There was something about his tone that made Emma pause. She gripped her dagger more firmly in her hand, contemplating lodging it in the closest man’s throat.
She envisioned the battle. With Micah fighting beside her, they could probably take out about half of their opponents. The other half would be a struggle and she wasn’t confident they would be able to win against all of them. If they lost, she doubted they would show mercy to Iris. She refused to let her sister fall prey to them.
Huffing, she nodded.
“What are you doing?�
� Micah whispered so that only she could hear.
She nudged him with her elbow and whispered, “Later,” before smiling broadly at the innkeeper. “So, what do we call you?”
The innkeeper bowed.“Mr. Damian Fooks at your service,” he replied, “but you can call me Fooks.”
He clapped his hands, and the men surrounding them lowered their weapons.
Emma desperately wanted to drop to her knees and cradle her sister. The sweat on her brow had increased and her eyes were glassy when they met hers. But she sensed that doing anything to comfort her sister would only bring them trouble.
“You’ll leave at first light,” Fooks said as he motioned towards his men. They left the room and returned seconds later carrying a large map. He laid it on the counter, and then stood guard next to the door.
Emma trailed her eyes over the map. Various places had been marked with a black skull with bleeding eyes. She recognized the area from the maps Grandmother Rel had kept in their cabin. She lingered on the spot where the dwarf, Balkeen, had kept his lair. A deep ravine ran next to it where a river coursed through the mountain. That was the place she had almost died.
Fooks jabbed his finger at a spot on the map where there was a cluster of the skulls.
“This, here, is the place where the monster is currently residing,” he said. “Bring me its head and I’ll let you leave here unscathed, with your companion.”
“And supplies,” Emma reminded.
He blinked at her for a moment before adding, “With supplies.”
Micah gripped her elbow in warning. With what she hoped was an inconspicuous motion, she pulled her arm out of his grip. She glanced down at Iris, who was now slumped fully on the floor with her eyes closed. Her chest rose and fell steadily, which was a good sign, but she didn’t like how ashen her face was.
“What can you tell us about the monster?” she asked, dragging her eyes back to meet Fooks’s gaze.
He shrugged. “It attacks at night. No one in my crew has actually seen it and survived.” He swallowed hard and continued, “We’ve been tracking it on the princess’s orders for months. Some of my best men are dead because of it.”
