CHAPTER 2
The Wilds
Outside the inn, Elaina introduced Landon to her uncle, who eyed their new houseguest’s shoulders with a grin the younger man didn’t understand. Elaina grimaced. That was no way to make him less anxious. He was walking on a knife blade already. She didn’t know why, but he seemed about ready to reach for the sword at his hip. It was a fine weapon, the black leather hilt inlaid with gold in the shape of three crossed arrows. Too fine for a wandering whatever-he-is and certainly too fine for one so young. Who is this Loth Daean? He crosses half the world alone for no decent reason, carrying a sword like that, and he’s nervous as a hare in an open field. Hetarth didn’t seem troubled, leading the way into the night.
Their home was almost exactly west of the town, but they headed for the north gate. The west gate was sealed shut—no one but the two of them would have used it. The old gatekeeper came out of his little turret to open the old iron doors. The walls were twice as thick as the little town deserved, a silent reminder of the days when Tar Haviel was the last stop on the road into Hasile. Letting the two of them out to walk into the Wilds at night no longer bothered the gatekeeper, but he looked askance of Landon.
Elaina glanced over at their guest too, looking for what the gatekeeper saw. Is it really a good idea to invite an armed stranger to come with us? She wondered, but Hetarth was sure—there was no reason to worry. Most children grew up thinking their elders were never wrong, but for Elaina that was suspiciously true. Since she’d come to live with Hetarth, she couldn’t pick out any one time he’d been flat out wrong. It was extremely frustrating.
The great gates swung open with the low groan of metal on metal as the old man worked the levers and gears. When she was a child Elaina had spent a whole day staring at the clever design, trying to figure out how one little man could open so large a gate. She still wasn’t sure. Of course, Hetarth understood it well enough to help them fix it the one time it broke. Again, frustrating.
The gates ground to a gaping halt. The night seemed blacker outside than in, but Elaina was used to it. She noticed Landon shiver, and his hand strayed to that too-fine blade. Perhaps he stole it, and that is the cause of his nerves. No matter, she and Hetarth had nothing worth stealing. Besides, despite his heavy limp, Hetarth didn’t have the look of a man you messed with. There’s nothing to worry about. Elaina fell back to talk to Landon, who’d slowed to let them take the lead. How much of that is because he doesn’t know the way and how much a desire to keep us in front of him?
“We’ve never been attacked, and we’ve lived out here for years.” She assured him. Landon kept his eyes on the shadows that reached out to caress them in the moonlight.
“You’ve always lived out here, then?” he asked, the strain in his voice not quite concealed. He continued to grasp his sword with white-knuckled intensity, but he did not draw. It was to his credit, considering the stories about the Wilds. Many things were loosed in the Invasion Hasile, not all of them natural and few of them harmless.
“My uncle has, and I’ve lived with him since I was ten and my parents went East.” She didn’t let his wariness affect her, keeping her tone light and strolling as if she were in a sunlit meadow. It didn’t seem to be helping him, but it didn’t hurt either.
“Why did they not take you with them?” Landon asked, distracted enough to let his eyes flick to hers in puzzlement.
“They did not want to—they went to Hurndrith.” Her answer was short and she looked up at the stars between the twisted branches, ignoring the way his eyes narrowed. Even someone from the other side of the world understood—they didn’t go by choice, and those stories never ended well. The rest of the winding walk was in silence.
The deep darkness of the path, only visible if you knew it existed, opened into the lesser shadow of a small clearing. Wild trees with grasping branches loomed over a modest little building that rose from uneven paving stones. Its thatch roof threw back the moonlight and small windows set high above the ground peered out from underneath it like a boy looking through too-long hair . Elaina felt Landon’s wary eyes sweep over her as they stepped inside, him last. She was equal parts concerned and amused that he expected ambush from a girl and a cripple in a cottage on the edge of the empire.
His sharp gaze searched the room with a practiced air until he was satisfied. Only then did he release that gilded hilt. It was all she could do not to stare. He didn’t act like any of the young men in Tar Haviel for all he looked like them (save the eyes—everyone in Tar Haviel had brown eyes). He behaves the way I imagine a soldier would, but soldiers aren’t allowed to wander about as they please. He is too clean to be a merchant’s guard, perhaps he’s run away? Tar Haviel would be a good place to hide if that’s what he’s doing, but he’s awfully well-mannered for a criminal . . .
Hetarth and Landon talked of the news in the Empire while Elaina made dinner. Though she listened closely, she still couldn’t place him. Vexing. He’d been travelling for at least three seasons of the year, but little of himself came through his stories.
The chatting stopped when Elaina brought them each a bowl of soup and a thick slice of bread. Landon downed his portion in short order, though he seemed surprised to discover she was a decent cook. Elaina refilled his bowl, but he couldn’t keep up with Hetarth. She grinned at him when Hetarth cleaned his sixth serving up with a bit of bread.
After the meal, they sat in the main room of the house, a comfortable area that included the kitchen, the big table with its benches, and two rocking chairs in front of the fireplace. Landon hesitated after Hetarth took the first chair until Elaina settled on the warm stones of the hearth. Oddly courteous. Most men just assume the chairs are for them. The older man rekindled his pipe and sat back puffing contentedly.
“So, young man,” he began comfortably, “what brings you to Tar Haviel?” Elaina didn’t move, her head tilted back against the fireplace, but she snuck a peek at Landon through half-closed eyes. He had a decidedly uncomfortable hunch to his shoulders, but his face was as blank as a long-time gambler’s.
“I truly don’t have any great reason. I was bored at home, so I set out to travel. And this is the end of the road.” He said with a twist of his lips. Hetarth nodded, but Elaina could tell he wasn’t convinced. She wasn’t convinced, but he didn’t seem interested in offering a better answer.
“How long will you stay?” she asked instead.
“I’m not certain, but a word from either of you will see me back at the inn if I’m ever an annoyance.” His tone was formal and he spoke mostly to Hetarth—very proper and courtly. Mystery man. The thought was decidedly grouchy.
The conversation returned to his travels, and if it was mundane Elaina didn’t notice. She’d never left the village for more than a few days and could hardly remember Conde’tair, where she grew up. Even that was just a tiny city.
Landon talked of cities of a hundred thousand people or more—a hundred thousand! What do they eat? Where could they possibly all live? Hetarth seemed to believe him that Lotriel, the capital city, held that many. He nodded when Landon called Lydendram a small city then said that forty thousand lived there at any given time. Elaina didn’t know where Lydendram was, precisely, only that it was the great city of the horse lords of Jernal. A small city with forty thousand? Tar Haviel has forty families!
They went to bed early—candles were expensive and chores began at sunup. Elaina laid out blankets for Landon before the fire.
“Don’t mind the noises in the night,” Elaina said as she left him for her own tiny room in the back. “Nothing will harm you here so long as you do not go out.” She hesitated, then repeated, “Just stay inside.”
“I will, thank you. Goodnight.” He replied. She only nodded and shut her door.
Dawn found Elaina banging about in the process of making breakfast. She’d already fed the flock of chickens and the two goats who lived inside the fenced-off yard behind the house. Now the eggs were cooking in the pan, and a pitcher of
milk was cooling on the windowsill, thrown open to the cold morning breeze. She was trying to be quiet, but cooking with heavy metal pans over the fire simply wasn’t quiet. Landon sat up, blinking in the light.
“Anything I might help with?” he offered. Elaina shook her head with a smile.
“We’ll put you to work soon enough. Did you sleep well?”
Landon only shrugged one shoulder. “Save for the howling, yes. Are those wolves, or something else?” he asked warily, looking as if he didn’t entirely want to know the answer.
“Wolves, I think. They leave prints sometimes.”
“They didn’t sound quite like wolves.” He muttered, glancing out the window as if they might have hung around.
“Well, they’re large. Some of the prints are the size of dinner plates. Perhaps that is why they sound different.” Elaina offered. Landon watched her cook as if the eggs might tell him if she was joking or not. He never got more of an answer—Hetarth had smelled breakfast. He hobbled out of his room with his nose in the air.
“It smells like a good day.” He declared happily. Elaina rolled her eyes.
“You say that every day.”
“That’s because any day that starts with breakfast is a good day, and I always smell breakfast in the morning.” He explained. Landon chuckled. Much like the night before, Hetarth ate twice as much as either of them. Landon just shook his head.
After breakfast, Elaina and Landon set out to bring water for Hetarth’s bath. She left behind her cloak from the night before, but slung her bow over one shoulder, the highly polished birch at odds with the faded tunic she wore over green leggings. The matched quiver hung from her belt beside a knife sheathed in simple, supple leather. If he was surprised at her arsenal, Landon said nothing as he buckled his sword belt around his waist. Elaina was a little surprised he’d taken it off at all, even to sleep. She was willing to bet he’d kept it within reach, even so. They stepped outside into the bright morning, empty buckets in hand.
Glancing over his shoulder as he followed her to the well Landon remarked, “Your home looks less like a fortress in miniature in the light, though with what I heard last night, I think I may prefer a fortress.” Not watching his feet, Landon caught his toe on an uneven stone and staggered to keep from landing on his face. Elaina didn’t turn, despite his startled oath. Her lips moved soundlessly over it though, it was another worth remembering.
Once she was sure she wouldn’t forget it, she spoke carelessly over her shoulder. “Watch the ground, or you’ll be looking at it much closer than you planned. The stones haven’t been even since the Order.” Landon gaped at the clearing, then hurried forward to catch up with Elaina on the narrow path that wound away from the clearing.
“What are you talking about!” he hissed, “What if someone hears you?” She laughed.
“Landon, we are in the Wilds. Anything that hears us will not be human.” She turned to grin at his queasy expression, but he looked positively green. She felt a pang of guilt. Perhaps a bit far, Elaina thought, he may be some young soldier-lord, but for all he knows we are about to get eaten. Abashed, Elaina tried to put him more at ease. “Don’t worry, you’re safe here.”
“The creatures, they don’t exist?” His voice was hopeful, so she held back her bleak laugh. Something killed the Baleys, and the claw marks all over that house were anything but normal.
“They exist, but they don’t seem to come here. Perhaps they remember that the Order lived here.” If the creatures had him uncomfortable, this nearly made him swallow his tongue.
“The Order really lived on that spot?” His tone was awed, as if he spoke of the Neverblind themselves.
Elaina peered at him. “That’s why it’s paved. Did you think my uncle and I cleared the place and laid out all those stones? Hetarth says it was a stable, though I can’t say how he knows.” She shrugged and ducked under a trail of ivy that hung into the path. The ivy hung from a branch that arched perfectly over the path. Landon rested his hand on it and she saw him start.
“That’s not a branch,” he began, eyeing it uncertainly.
“It’s a doorway—another bit left over from the old times.” Landon stopped to examine it, but she kept on. He would catch up. There weren’t any forks in the path, and she had a strange feeling about something up ahead. Frowning, she slid her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow.
Something is up there.
She’d just drawn the fletching to her ear when Landon’s trotting footsteps came around the bend in the path and he nearly ran into her elbow. His accusing stare felt hot, but she cut off his protest with a sharp shake of her head. In front of them the path opened up to a clear pool surrounded by a wall of greenery. Under that ivy, Elaina knew the stone ruins of the Order lurked. But there was something else out there today, waiting.
“It’th waiting for uth.” She whispered with a lisp—of all the sounds of the common language, the easiest to hear in the noises of the forest is the hiss of an ‘s.’ Whatever was there was probably already aware of them, but no need to take chances. That thrill she’d felt at going to talk to a stranger the night before was dwarfed by the rush of adrenaline that burst through her now.
Landon slowly drew his sword, grasping the sheath to mute the ring of steel. He glared at the wall of foliage. At the inn she’d thought him suspicious and strange, but now she saw what she’d missed: he was dangerous.
It was in his movements, in his eyes—he knows how to use that weapon, and he would use it to kill. I’ve never met anyone who’s killed someone before, but I wouldn’t laugh if Landon said he had. She only hoped he wouldn’t have to use that sword today. She’d never been attacked, but the things that lurked in the Wilds had never lurked so persistently before.
Without letting the tension out of the bowstring, she pushed Landon behind her with her elbow. Judging by his disgruntled expression, Landon thought he should have ended up in front but he stayed silent and still. After a few tense minutes, Elaina sighed and let the tension out of the bow. Whatever it was had backed off for the moment. She kept the arrow nocked, and Landon’s darting glance told her he noticed.
“What was that?” he asked, loathe to sheath his sword.
“Don’t know—didn’t see it.” She flashed grin mischievous grin, “something hungry.” Landon wasn’t satisfied.
“How do you know it was there? I heard nothing, and there are no tracks on stone.” He split his searching stare between her and the ivy. For a moment, Elaina considered telling him. Usually she kept these things to herself—the people of Tar Haviel didn’t really want to hear anything more of the Wilds or the odd man and his niece who lived there. In the end she answered, but kept it simple.
“I’ve lived out here a long time, I can just tell where they are.” Elaina scanned the clearing. “And you would be surprised at the tracks you can find on stone.” She muttered and pushed past him to the pool.
“Have you ever seen them?” Landon asked, hanging back cautiously.
“Yes.” Her voice was level, but Elaina could not help but shiver.
“How did you escape? Trained warriors have not been so lucky.” Now his suspicion was divided between the trees and herself. Shouldn’t have told him anything, but now that he knows . . .
“They’ve never attacked me.” She met his eyes as she sloshed back by with two full buckets. “Perhaps it is you they’re after. Keep up.”
Landon crossed to the pool in two long strides, tossed the buckets in and yanked them out again hard enough to make his shoulders ache. She was sure enough to put down her weapons, but she was walking much faster now with the heavy buckets than she had been before. What is going on out here? Who are these people?
Even with his long legs, he barely caught up with her by the time they reached the house. He felt the edge on his suspicion ease. The chickens were milling in the yard, and the goats lay on their sides pulling up mouthfuls of hay and chewing contentedly. Animals noticed more than people, usuall
y. Whatever it was hadn’t followed them.
Landon let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. The door slamming behind Elaina startled him back into motion. He shook his head. Freezing up just because of some animal he had never seen? Truth, he was on edge!
When he made it into the house Elaina was already relating to Hetarth what happened. The wrinkles around the older man’s eyes were made even deeper by his fierce frown.
“—never happened before, but something was there, and it was waiting for us.” She finished worriedly. At least she isn’t as cavalier as she seemed. ‘Something hungry,’ honestly!
“Then why did it leave?” Hetarth asked her, puzzled. At least he didn’t doubt her story. Landon thought his own father might have wanted more proof than just a bad feeling about a wall of leaves.
Elaina shrugged. “I don’t know, I pushed him behind me. Maybe it was after him.” She nodded to Landon, a little hopeful. He couldn’t blame her, really, but he personally wished she were wrong about that. He didn’t like to be thought of as breakfast. Hetarth’s sharp eyes bored into his own, and Landon sensed he was being measured in some way he didn’t understand.
“Oh, it was after him.” Her uncle assured her quietly. How am I going to find what I’m looking for if the nightmares on the doorstep are ready to eat me? Landon wondered as Elaina’s worried eyes raked over him. It had been a mistake to think the hardest part of his mission would be getting to the far side of the world. Of course. The next step is always the hardest.
“What’s wrong with me then, why aren’t they after me?” Elaina asked, puzzled. Landon blinked. That wasn’t an entirely normal response. Most people would just be happy they weren’t part of a monster’s meal. Then again, these two weren’t exactly normal. Not necessarily a bad thing, but certainly not normal.
“Wrong, my dear?” He raised a bushy black eyebrow. His short beard and thick hair were graying, but those eyebrows resisted, dominating a sharp brow that reminded Landon of his father. Now there was something he wanted to avoid even more than the possibility of being eaten: his father. That was going to be an uncomfortable reunion if he lived through all of this.
“I wouldn’t say that—if you were like everyone else, you and your friend would likely be dead, and I would still be waiting for my bathwater.” Hetarth reasoned. Landon said nothing about being called a friend, but he’d spent too much time around noblemen not to notice the implication of every chosen word. Friend is good—perhaps they will help. At the very least, perhaps they will help keep me from being eaten.
“Very well, then, what is the difference between him and I?” she amended.
“Perhaps you are too pretty to eat?” Hetarth suggested hopefully. Elaina gave him a dry look, and his bright expression faded. Landon half smiled at the exchange. His little sister Kari had perfected that withering stare two years ago at the age of nine. No doubt learned it from Mother. He wasn’t looking forward to that stare either when he got home, come to it.
Hetarth’s lower lip stuck out while he thought, eyebrows drawn together. “I’ll think of it, don’t worry.” He assured his niece. “Now how about that bath?”
Elaina nodded, but she was watching him closely, unconvinced. Landon thought she was right—Hetarth was hiding something.