Ara took her hand. “I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Nimhea replied.
So that’s it. She doesn’t remember.
Ara wanted to say more, but the words wouldn’t come out. She was frozen with panic.
What if she can’t forgive me? Will she leave?
There came a sudden rustling among the trees, and Joar appeared, stomping out of the jungle, Huntress loping at his side.
He wore an expression of bewilderment. “There is no game.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself, Joar,” Nimhea said. Her somber mood had vanished at Joar’s appearance. “No one is lucky in a hunt every time.”
Joar shook his head. “No. There is nothing to hunt. The jungle has been abandoned.” Looking over the charred expanse of the Gash, he added, “The animals shun this place.”
Nimhea frowned at him. “I’m sure that’s not it. They’re just being shy.” She took the big man’s arm. “Lahvja won’t have trouble coming up with something for dinner that doesn’t involve fresh meat.”
Still unsettled by her conversation with Nimhea, Ara forced herself to let it go. The time for facing up to what she’d done would come, but for now it would have to wait. She followed the hunter and princess to meet Lahvja, and soon all three of them were chopping vegetables. The chatter and laughter that had been absent since they’d entered the Gash returned as they worked together to ready the meal, and the ache in Ara’s heart began to ease. Though Nimhea had admitted her fears to Ara, the princess seemed to be genuinely in good spirits, and Joar was taking to heart his new membership in their small cadre.
Teth returned with firewood and assigned himself the task of building the cooking fire. Flames began to crackle and smoke curled in wisps, and Ara’s mouth began to water at the promise of dinner.
A cry broke through the night air, a sound unlike any Ara had heard. Keening and shrill—a wolf’s howl wrapped in an eagle’s scream.
Lahvja suddenly dropped to her knees, gasping. Nimhea crouched beside her.
“What’s wrong?”
More cries joined the first. The noise grew piercing, like a sharp point driving into her eardrums. Ara covered her ears and saw Teth do the same. Joar’s face twisted with pain, but his expression was one of intense concentration. Beside him, Huntress pawed at her ears, snarling and whimpering.
The campfire caught fully, fire licking the logs. Smoke belched into the sky, taking the shape of claws that tore at the air. The shrieking cries became louder still.
Teth dropped to the ground, arms wrapped around his head. Nimhea was holding Lahvja, whose mouth was open wide as if she was screaming, but Ara could hear nothing besides the preternatural cries. The terrible sound forced Ara to her knees beside the fire a moment later. Tears leaked from her eyes. Her skull wanted to split open.
The campfire’s flames became the color of blood. Ara stared at the fire, mind driven blank by the pain. Shadows darted within the crimson, taking the shape of animals. She watched the beasts rush through the dark flames, as though they fled something terrible. Their fear seeped into her limbs; panic seized her, stealing her breath. One by one, the animals’ flesh tore away in chunks until nothing was left but bone. Ara’s eyes were wide with horror as painful throbs pulsed through her body. The fleeing skeletons began to crack, breaking into sharp bone shards that rose up in the bloody fire and suddenly flew at Ara’s face. She screamed, throwing her arms over her eyes and rolling away, but nothing touched her.
Warily, she turned back to the fire, which was still blood red. The shadows returned, becoming animals, and the scene began to repeat itself. Her panic, which had shattered when she turned away, simmered once more.
“The fire!” Ara shouted to Joar, who was the only person still standing. “Put out the fire!”
Joar didn’t move. He was still focused on the sound, but struggling against the agony of it.
Realizing he couldn’t hear her, Ara struggled to her feet and ran to him. She grabbed his arm, and he blinked at her in surprise.
“We need to put out the fire!” she screamed as loud as she could.
She saw comprehension in his eyes. He crouched low and clawed through the burnt ground until he could scoop giant handfuls of dirt onto the fire. Ara grabbed Lahvja’s cooking pot and stumbled to the pond. She plunged the pot into its stagnant depths, releasing a foul stench that made her gag.
When she returned to camp, the fire was struggling against Joar’s attempt to suffocate it. Its smoke had become oily and sinuous. Ara dumped the pot of viscous water over the remaining flames. The answering cloud of steam and its sickening odor knocked Ara back. She tripped over Teth’s legs and fell.
Joar heaped more dirt over the smoldering pile.
The shrieking all around them became a long, wavering groan and was gone. The night fell silent once more.
Ara lay on the ground, gasping. The sky above her, which had been ink black, now winked with scattered stars.
“Are you hurt?” Teth had propped himself up on his elbows and was looking at her. Her lower legs were still draped over his knees from when she’d tripped.
She quickly rolled away from him and pushed herself up.
“I’m all right,” she said, though standing so quickly had left her dizzy. “You?”
His expression, which had been open and worried, quickly shuttered. “Fine.”
Teth’s curt tone made her wince inwardly, but she turned to the others. “Lahvja? Nimhea?”
Lahvja’s head rested in Nimhea’s lap. The princess stroked Lahvja’s hair.
“I think we’re okay,” Nimhea answered. “I know that was painful for all of us, but it’s affected Lahvja more severely.”
In reply, Lahvja made a weak but affirmative sound.
“Hush,” Nimhea told her gently. “You can explain later.”
“How did you know to put out the fire?” Joar asked.
Huntress slunk up beside him, pressing her head into his leg. He rested his hand on her shoulder, and the wolf gave his knee a friendly lick.
“I—” Ara began, but looked at Lahvja, whose eyes were still shut tight, her body trembling. “We should wait to speak of it until morning. Right now we should all try to rest.”
Teth threw her a sharp glance. “You think it’s safe?”
“I don’t know if safe is the right word,” Ara answered carefully. “But I think we should try to sleep.”
Teth appeared unhappy with her vague reply, but Nimhea and Joar both nodded. They all quietly retreated to their tents.
Ara stretched out on her bedroll, exhausted but unsure she’d be able to sleep. She’d spoken the truth—she was certain the terrors of that night were finished. But they would pass two more nights in this place, and whatever was happening to them in the Gash, she didn’t think it was over.
* * *
Breakfast consisted of crusty bread, hard cheese, and dark words. Sullen clouds, heavy with rain, pressed down upon them. There was no wind, leaving the air thick and close.
Ara had passed a dreamless night in her tent. She stirred at dawn, as did her friends. Wordlessly, they’d gathered around the remains of the campfire. Lahvja’s expression was strained. Despite the heat she had a cloak drawn about her, and Nimhea took over the usual task of distributing food for the meal.
“What was that last night?” Teth turned a hunk of bread over in his hands.
Ara exchanged a look with Joar.
“I’m not sure,” Ara answered. “But I saw something in the fire—shapes like animals. Blood. Bones.”
“You bore witness to their suffering and death.” Lahvja’s voice croaked.
Ara startled at the strange sound.
Nimhea urged Lahvja to take a sip of water.
“Our minds were trapped in their terror and torment.” Lahvja’s word
s were clearer now, but still gravelly. “Until the spell was broken.”
“Ara and I put out the fire,” Joar said, scratching his throat absentmindedly. “And the sound stopped. Did we break the spell?”
Lahvja nodded. “You must have. Fire was a weapon the Vokkans used against the jungle. Our campfire became the focus of the curse.”
“Someone cursed us?” Teth spoke glibly, but his jaw tightened. “How rude.”
“Not someone,” Lahvja told him, pulling the cloak tighter across her shoulders. “I believe the earth itself bears a curse, and it will be visited upon us while we are here.”
Joar gulped down a fistful of bread and cheese. He seemed to be the only one among them with an appetite. “Perhaps if we have no more campfire, we will be left in peace.”
“It’s possible,” Lahvja said, biting her lip. “I know not what actions will enrage or appease the spirits here.”
“I will not hunt,” Joar said, then sighed. “There was no game to be found as it was.”
Lahvja nodded slowly. “That is wise.”
“You said the spirits perceived fire as a weapon.” Ara tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “The Vokkans would have used other means to clear the jungle. Swords. Axes.”
“You think we should stow our weapons.” Nimhea frowned as she took Ara’s meaning. “That would leave us defenseless.”
Ara’s hands tightened on Ironbranch. Would the Loresmith stave have to be stowed away as well? It wasn’t an offensive weapon, but she didn’t know if that mattered. The thought of relinquishing it set her teeth on edge.
“I think we need to consider what we would be defending ourselves from,” Ara replied. “Joar found the jungle emptied. We don’t have to worry about predators stalking us from there. And the Vokkans aren’t patrolling here.”
Pushing his plate aside, Teth said, “I’m with Nimhea on this. I don’t think we should stow our weapons just yet. We have no idea what else this place might throw at us.”
Ara’s hackles rose. She was about to reply, but Joar spoke first.
“My inclination is to agree with him and the princess.” He gritted his teeth, uneasy. “Until we have more clarity as to the nature of this cursed place, we should keep our arms.”
“Very well,” Ara replied stiffly.
* * *
The day passed uneventfully. Rain refused to come, and Ara shifted in her saddle frequently, irritated by the sweat and damp. She lifted her face to the sky, willing the storm to come. Being soaked had to be better than this stifling heat, and the rainwater could be collected—every water source they’d come across had been like the first pond. Rank and noxious.
Cloud was likewise unhappy with the weather—and his surroundings—tossing his head and champing at the bit. Ara tried to settle him without success.
Her friends fared no better. Their mounts, stuck in foul moods, trotted with ears laid back, snorting and even snapping at one another or kicking at the packhorses.
Joar’s long strides had no trouble keeping pace with the group, though he wisely gave the horses a wide berth. Huntress had abandoned them, seeking the shade—or perhaps solitude—of the jungle.
In the late afternoon, Ara called for a halt. They made camp on a rise that offered a long view of the distance they’d come across the Gash and the miles they had left to travel.
As Ara gazed northward, toward the end of this miserable trek, Teth came up beside her.
“Tomorrow night we’ll be able to reach a fort the Vokkans abandoned.” He wiped sweat from his brow. “It will offer additional protection . . . should we need it.”
“Good.” Ara risked a sidelong glance at him. “How are you?”
His lips twisted in a sour smile. “Hot. Itchy.”
“Me too.” Ara grimaced. “But that’s not—”
“I know what you meant.” He pivoted to face her. His eyes were hard. “What do you want me to say?”
She had to avert her gaze. It hurt too much to see the bitterness written on his face. “I don’t know. I just . . . I want us to be okay.”
“Okay.” His laugh was horrible. “What exactly does ‘okay’ mean to you?”
Forcing herself to look at him, she said, “We’re friends.”
“I suppose we are.” That strange smile was back. “But we were something more. Much more.”
The loose easiness of his bearing was nowhere to be seen. He sat rigidly in the saddle; his every movement seemed stiff, forced.
It hurt to breathe as Ara watched him. “I know.”
All she wanted to do was lean over to him and take his hand. She wanted to beg forgiveness for everything she’d said.
But Nimhea.
With a dry chuckle, Teth muttered, “I’m pining for my old life. When it was me, Fox, and pilfering. Good times.”
“I don’t blame you,” Ara said. “I wish I could help.”
“I’m sure you do,” Teth replied, then looked at her sharply. “You may not like it, but I get to be angry. I will feel whatever I need to feel. I’m not going to let you down. I’m not going to turn my back on the Loresmith or the princess who must be queen, but you can’t expect me to be happy.”
He held her gaze for another moment and then reined Dust away.
Twisting in the saddle, he added with the flicker of a smile, “Don’t worry about me. Maybe I’ll start stealing things from Joar and see how long it takes him to notice. That’ll make me feel better.”
* * *
The sun dipped below the horizon, and darkness drenched the Gash. The clouds had not abated, and with no moon, stars, or fire to offer light, Ara and her companions were left to fumble in the darkness.
They’d pitched the tents in a tight circle and now sat together within a yet smaller circle and passed a loaf of bread around. Night brought little relief from the heat, and while Ara knew she was still sweating, the moisture on her skin seemed to increase more than the temperature warranted. She ran a hand down her arm, and her fingers came away dripping. The air felt thicker. Touching her lips, Ara found moisture there, too.
Fog. She couldn’t see it, but she sensed the clouds had descended and now blanketed them.
“Ugh,” Ara heard Teth say. “As if I wasn’t already wet enough. I think I’m going to bed. Who wants to wager I’ll get lost even though my tent is supposedly right behind me?”
Joar made a low sound that was something between a grunt and a laugh.
“Wait, friend.” Lahvja’s voice was tremulous. “Something about this sudden fog troubles me.”
“Well, if that isn’t exactly what I was hoping to hear,” Teth replied. “Troubling fog: Who doesn’t love it?”
“Hush, Teth.” Nimhea’s voice was low but firm. “I hear something.”
They fell silent, waiting to catch whatever sound had caught Nimhea’s attention.
The noise came suddenly, making Ara jump.
A coughing, or perhaps a rough bark. Then a snuffling. Nothing resembling the shrieks of the previous night. The sound wasn’t close by, but neither was it that far off.
Ara had set Ironbranch on her right side when she sat down. Now she drew the stave into her lap. The slithering rasp of steel against leather told her that Nimhea had drawn her sword. She could only assume Joar and Teth had armed themselves as well.
The sound came again. Closer now.
Then an answering bark. Then a growl. And another.
Ara’s heart gave a heavy thud.
The next sound came from above, and her head snapped up, trying to track whatever had made the noise. She squinted into the dark.
Why bother? I can’t see anything.
But then her eyes did catch something. Barely. A shape swooping over the camp.
Were the clouds parting?
She peered at the sky, but no, whatever light fil
tered through the air wasn’t coming from the moon. The light was a strange, unpleasant color. A harsh yellow that wavered, strengthening then fading like a guttering candle.
It was coming from the fog.
More noises rose in the night. The hacking bark-like sounds continued along with the snuffling. A long, stuttering whistle briefly overwhelmed the rest.
“That was a moss elk,” Joar said. “I’m sure of it, but—”
“What?” Ara asked. She had to raise her voice above the growing chorus around them.
“The call was broken . . . wrong.” She could hear the tension in his voice.
The unsteady whistle came again and was joined by others. New sounds shot out of the dark. Louder. Closer.
The occasional shadow passing over them became many. Birds of every size circling their camp. Ara watched their silhouettes, a frown knitting her brow. The bird shapes didn’t seem right. Wings bent at angles that shouldn’t have been possible. Heads drooped where necks should have held them upright.
The yellow light remained unsteady but grew brighter.
Ara gasped.
The birds, flying ever lower, were revealed in the new light—and they were diseased. At least that was what Ara thought. Bald patches. Missing feathers. Broken beaks. So many were in ravaged states that flight shouldn’t have been possible.
“Senn’s teeth!” Teth’s shout brought Ara’s gaze back to their camp.
Her stomach lurched when she saw shapes moving through the yellow fog. She turned her head.
Animals. There were animals moving through the light, dipping in and out of shadow.
The camp was surrounded.
The noise was ceaseless. Growls. Barks. Whistles. Snarls. Moaning calls. Shrill chittering. It was the song of the jungle, and yet not. This wasn’t the riot of joyful sound Ara remembered from their journey to the Tangle. The cries surrounding them were jarring, stopping and starting at irregular intervals. Sounding at bizarre pitches. Gargling and belching. Suddenly strangled.
Broken. Like Joar had said.
Cast in Secrets and Shadow Page 19
