Read Union of Renegades: The Rys Chronicles Book I Page 5

  ~

  Dreibrand kicked at the dirt in frustration. His shoulders ached from being in an unnatural position all night tied to a tree, and his skull had turned into a vessel of punishment. Blood had dried on his temple where Gennor had felled him with the flat of his sword.

  Hydax and Gennor had performed their duty marvelously. They were expert scouts, and Dreibrand would have sent them on this mission himself. The humiliation of capture stung Dreibrand deeply, but he had not lost hope. They would have to move him eventually, and he would try to escape. He could tell Hydax was sympathetic to him, and maybe he could convince Hydax to let him go. For now he planned to coax some food out of them, so he could get his strength back.

  “Can’t you hurry up with that deer?” Gennor asked.

  Hydax turned from cleaning the animal and laughed. “Oh, stop sweating me. We won’t be leaving until tomorrow anyway.”

  “I still say we shouldn’t have taken time for your pleasure hunt today. Lord Kwan did not send us out here for a holiday,” Gennor maintained.

  “Why don’t you gather some wood instead of standing there?” Hydax said, annoyed.

  “Yes, Gennor, why don’t you gather some wood?” Dreibrand interjected. “I, for one, am looking forward to dinner.”

  Gennor turned and said, “Well, look who’s finally talking. How about I knock you around some more? You just shut up and be a nice officer.”

  Hydax gestured to Dreibrand with his knife. “I actually feel sorry for you Lieutenant Veta. You’ll think me and Gennor were a basket of flowers after Lord Kwan gets you. He did not look happy about you not showing up to work.”

  “I am sure Lord Kwan hardly misses me,” Dreibrand grumbled.

  “Oh! Lord Kwan misses you. He was terribly worried about you in fact. I think he wants to give you a promotion,” Gennor joked, and even Hydax had to laugh at that one.

  Warming up to his humor, Gennor put a hand across his chest and bowed to Dreibrand. “I would like to thank you, Sir. I never thought I’d get the privilege of smacking up an officer.”

  Dreibrand scowled, weary of the ridicule, but he continued, “I had no idea you bore me so much animosity, Gennor.”

  Gennor shrugged. “Nothing really personal, Dreibrand. Just all these high-class officers. I risk my life more than the officers, but they get the huge estate grants,” he explained.

  “I have never hung back in battle. I take the same risks as my men,” Dreibrand defended proudly.

  “Except yesterday,” Gennor said.

  Dreibrand truly had nothing to say to this, and he hung his head. He did not hang his head in shame, but in thought. He felt indifferent to the duties he had ignored yesterday and remained loyal to his decision to work for himself outside the strictures of Atrophaney society.

  Retreating into his sense of humor, Dreibrand said, “I was so eager to see the Wilderness, I guess Droxy slipped my mind.”

  Gennor smirked, undecided on whether he wanted to chuckle.

  Stepping back from the gutted deer, Hydax said, “Well it did not slip Lord Kwan’s mind. What are you gonna tell him?”

  “What are you going to tell him?” Dreibrand asked and looked both his captors in the eyes.

  “Oh, I don’t believe this,” Gennor scoffed. “You want me to lie for you? What could you possibly have to offer me, Veta?”

  “Come on Gennor, I have always been good to you guys. All you have to say is you never saw me and let me go,” Dreibrand proposed optimistically.

  “Where are you going?” Hydax inquired.

  “I am exploring the Wilderness on my own. Lord Kwan wanted to send me back to Atrophane, so I am through with the Horde,” Dreibrand answered, and when he said the words, they sounded absurd.

  Hydax frowned with disbelief.

  “Come with me, Hydax. I could really use your expertise,” Dreibrand said.

  “You are crazy,” Gennor complained. When he noticed Hydax seemed to be considering Dreibrand’s idea, he shouted, “If you run off too, I’ll make sure Lord Kwan gets you back.”

  “Think about it, Gennor,” Dreibrand commanded. “You were just complaining about high class officers getting the most land. Well, here is your opportunity. Look at the Wilderness. It is just waiting to be taken. You can have all you can hold.”

  For an instant Gennor appeared intrigued, and Dreibrand thought maybe he had convinced him. He would never know.

  Suddenly the horses neighed nervously and began to pull at their tethers. The scouts looked around but did not see anything. Panic set in on the horses now, and they were screaming and breaking loose. Gennor ran to the grab the trailing lines of the horses.

  A terrible shriek ripped through the forest. Dreibrand felt himself break out in a cold sweat and he tried to stand up by inching his back up the tree. The scream pierced the air again, audibly closer. A terrible danger was coming and Dreibrand started to struggle at his bonds.

  A huge beast erupted from the forest and charged Hydax, who stood closest to the hanging deer. The creature had the form of a man but it was taller and had long hulking arms. Dark hair covered its body, and a long golden brown mane flowed from the head and face. The face was not human. Its long snout ended in bared yellow fangs, and its eyes gleamed with bestial intelligence.

  Hydax stumbled back from the assault and held his butcher knife out in a futile defense. The beast knocked the knife out of his hand and tackled him. Hydax’s scream was the note of pure terror that quickens the blood of every predator. He tried to hold the jaws away from his neck, and the creature sank its teeth into his shoulder. It shook him wildly, and Hydax wailed and beat on its head.

  Gennor gave up catching the horses to help his comrade. He charged the back of the beast with his sword raised, but the keen senses of the animal must have warned it of Gennor’s onslaught. It threw Hydax down and whirled on Gennor. Without any fear it faced Gennor and craftily dodged the sword, receiving only a small wound. This drawing of blood enraged the beast and it howled with elevated viciousness.

  The ugly carnivorous face unnerved Gennor, and he sprinted away. The beast bounded after him, determined to punish the man who had cut it.

  Hydax moaned and rolled near Dreibrand’s feet. The scout clutched his shoulder and blood poured onto the ground. He tried to gain his feet but fell weakly to his knees.

  “Cut me loose,” Dreibrand begged. “You have to cut me loose.”

  Hydax did not respond. Dreibrand trembled in genuine terror and struggled in his bonds. The coarse leather cut hotly into already raw wrists. At this moment he understood completely the trapped animal that could chew its own foot off. In overwhelming consternation Dreibrand fought at his bonds almost to the point of convulsing.

  “Hydax! Cut me loose!” he cried desperately. “Don’t leave me like this.”

  Hydax seemed oblivious to his pleas. He crawled toward his gear where his bow and quiver set. From the other side of the clearing Dreibrand heard an agonizing cry and saw Gennor fall fatally beneath the beast’s fury. After ravaging Gennor for a few seconds, the beast tossed the body aside and returned to its unfinished victim. Hydax fumbled painfully with his bow, but his wounds disabled him too much. The monster sprang onto the scout and began to chew up his head.

  This horrible scene strangled Dreibrand, and he knew he was next. Every spray of blood and flying chunk of hair from the mortal struggle played out for Dreibrand in slow ugly detail. This was nothing like the heat of battle—where screams, and blood, and death abounded—but a ghastly torture for Dreibrand, whose whole instinct demanded that he not be torn apart by wild animals.

  A sharp pain stung his wrist and his hands fell free. Dreibrand brought his hands up and saw the severed bindings hanging and blood dripping from one wrist. Astounded by this reprieve from fate, he jumped up and fled into the forest. His first few steps faltered on his stiff legs, but terror drove the pain of captivity out of his limbs.

  He was amazed to see a woman flying ahead of him
, her skirt held high over swift feet. Dreibrand ran madly after her, not daring to look back. Both man and woman raced beyond their normal endurances, driven by the terror that the beast pursued them.

  Eventually the woman reeled to a stop and looked back. Blood thudded through her body, and gasping for air, she leaned on a tree. Dreibrand stopped beside her and rested too. They spoke no words, trying only to catch their breath. Gradually the rasping sound of their heavy breathing faded, and the songbirds could be heard again in the trees, making a safe sound.

  “Thank you,” Dreibrand gasped, reaching out to take her hand.

  She recoiled from him, and Dreibrand held his hands back in a gesture of peace.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  Staring at him suspiciously, she said nothing and moved away. Abruptly Dreibrand realized she did not understand his language. He tried again in the Bosta speech.

  “Thank you. I am Dreibrand Veta.”

  The woman comprehended him, but she responded in a slightly different dialect. “Do you think it followed?”

  Both of them scanned the forest, which now seemed peaceful.

  Dreibrand concluded, “I think it would have caught us by now if it was chasing us. Who are you?”

  Her green eyes calculated him. Slowly she replied, “Miranda.”

  “Thank you for cutting me loose,” he said while he removed the remnants of his bonds.

  Uninterested in his gratitude and perplexed by his presence, Miranda started walking away.

  Dreibrand trotted after her. “Where did you come from?”

  Without pausing she answered, “I had been watching your camp from a hiding place. I came to see who was here, but you are not my people. You are invaders.”

  “Then why did you free me?” Dreibrand asked. The images of the rampaging beast burned in his head, and he still could not quite believe he had escaped.

  Miranda glanced at him. “It was not right that you would have to suffer and die like that. I took a risk and came to cut your bonds. I did not think you would follow me.”

  “May I follow you?” he said.

  “You are Atrophane?” she demanded.

  “Yes.”

  “You came here to conquer Droxy. You are an enemy,” Miranda stated.

  “I will not harm you. I owe you my life,” Dreibrand said earnestly.

  Miranda considered his words, but her hesitant features showed that she made no conclusions. “This is not the place for talk. I have to go,” she said.

  “To a safer place I hope,” Dreibrand said.

  He followed her. Even though she had not actually given her consent, Miranda tolerated him. Each of them thought more about the frightening beast they had just encountered than about each other. On a subconscious level both of them welcomed the security of human company.

  Miranda hiked straight for the cliffs, and the stony heights soon loomed over the trees. A long rocky slope came down from the cliffs to meet the woodland, and Miranda picked her way up the debris of erosion toward her cave.

  Ignoring Dreibrand, she raced the last few steps to the cave and darted inside it. At the back of the cave Elendra clutched her little brother, but the shadows could not dim the relief in her eyes upon seeing her mother. Miranda embraced the children and allowed herself one shaky sob.

  “Mama, I heard an awful sound while you were away,” Elendra reported.

  Miranda nodded absently, trying to cope with the existence of such a creature. She knew she could not defend her family from such a thing.

  “It is not safe out there,” she said.

  Dreibrand darkened the cave entrance and Elendra screamed. Miranda’s already shredded nerves rattled with the child’s shriek.

  “It’s all right. It’s all right,” she soothed. “This is…Dreibrand. He was at the camp I went to see.”

  Looking around with dismay, Dreibrand said, “You are alone with two children?”

  Miranda faced him proudly and explained, “We are hiding in the forest from the Atrophane.”

  He could not miss her accusatory tone, and he did not know how to respond to it. Dreibrand was aware that people fled before the Horde, especially desperate women and children. He wanted badly to gain her trust and tell her he was no longer a part of the invading army, but he felt suddenly ashamed of everything about himself.

  “I will get your fire going again,” he said and went outside.

  Miranda lingered by the cave. The noon sun fell warmly on the cliff, and she watched Dreibrand forage among the abundant brush, gathering wood. She was content to let him do it. At that moment she lacked the courage to go near the forest. She had not expected the warnings about the Wilderness to become so vividly true.

  7 ~ Partnership ~

  Dreibrand assembled a mighty supply of wood and intended to keep a hearty blaze going all night. As he set down his last armful of firewood, he almost toppled to the ground.

  “I hope that thing is afraid of fire,” he said breathlessly.

  Standing in the cave entrance, Miranda observed the smear of dried blood on his head. He did not look well, and she had little hope that he would leave.

  “Why is he here?” Elendra whispered.

  “I think he needs help,” Miranda whispered back.

  “I am scared of him. Make him go away,” Elendra insisted.

  Miranda hushed her daughter. Leaving Esseldan in his basket, she shyly approached the new member of her camp.

  “Thank you for gathering all that wood,” she said sincerely.

  Dreibrand nodded painfully and gingerly touched his temple.

  “What was that thing?” he said.

  Miranda looked at the forest and the cliff shadow creeping across the trees. “I think it must be a fenthakrabi,” she answered hesitantly as if saying the name of the beast would make it appear.

  “How do you live with such a thing?” Dreibrand wondered.

  “I have never seen it before. I have heard stories. But I never really believed.” Miranda explained.

  “Believe what?” Elendra asked impatiently.

  Miranda had not realized the child could overhear and answered carefully, “There was a wild animal in the forest today. I…I did not get a good look at it.” She held back a shudder as she recalled the dreadful creature.

  Dreibrand realized Miranda was trying to spare her daughter the gruesome details, and he dropped the subject. His exertions of the past days had caught up with him, leaving him dizzy.

  “I heard you say fenthakrabi,” Elendra boldly pressed her mother.

  “Say no more. Go sit by your brother,” Miranda ordered.

  Elendra pouted and obeyed slowly.

  “She’s a strong-willed girl,” Dreibrand commented.

  “She wants me to make you go away,” Miranda said abruptly.

  Dreibrand did not blame her for that reaction. Although he did not feel threatening, he had come to this country as an invader, and as Miranda had said, he was an enemy. This woman had no reason to help him further. Saving his life had been remarkably generous.

  “Yeah, I understand. Let me trouble you no more,” he said and started to haul himself wearily to his feet.

  “No, sit down,” Miranda insisted quickly. “I do not obey my daughter. She obeys me. You need to stay. It will be dark soon.”

  Miranda did not need to include the implications of the coming night. Exhausted, hurt, and without a weapon, Dreibrand had little desire to face the forest alone.

  “Your wounds need attention,” Miranda noted.

  Dreibrand regarded the red lines around his wrists where the bindings had held him tightly for a day and a night. Blood had clotted all over his right wrist, where Miranda had cut him free.

  “Sorry I cut you,” Miranda offered.

  Tiredly, Dreibrand smiled. “Not a problem,” he said.

  “What about your head?” she asked, eyeing the ugly cut.

  “I have already lived with that for a day. Trust me, Miranda, it is
better than it was,” he said.

  “It is not that much better,” Miranda decided firmly.

  She rummaged a clean rag from her pack and retrieved her canteen. Wetting the fabric, she began gently washing his cuts. Dreibrand relaxed happily under her ministrations.

  “You must be a forest nymph who has carried me away,” he said dreamily. “Or maybe I died back there and this is paradise.”

  Sitting back, Miranda rinsed out the rag. “I assure you I am no spirit of the wood and you are very much alive,” she said.

  Dreibrand sighed. “You are so kind to help me.”

  Miranda made no reply. She did not quite understand her motivations for helping him. She assumed it had to be pure sympathy.

  “What are you doing here?” Dreibrand inquired.

  “I already told you I hide from the war,” she replied with specific hostility.

  Dreibrand tried quickly to restore her good will and corrected his question. “I mean, why are you alone with your children? Where is your husband?”

  A savage gleam filled her eyes, and Dreibrand instantly regretted the question, realizing her husband probably fought the Atrophane as they spoke.

  But the hate that flared out of her soul was not directed at him. Rigidly she replied, “I have no husband.”

  Good news, Dreibrand thought and said diplomatically, “That happens.”

  Discarding the subject, Miranda said, “We need to eat.”

  More good news for Dreibrand, made evident by the grumblings of his stomach.

  She fed her daughter first, before offering Dreibrand his plate. “I have very little food to share. I had hoped to fish today, but I never got to it,” she explained.

  Dreibrand saw his hand shake when he reached for the plate, and he hated how ragged he felt. With an endearing smile he said, “As hungry as I am, I am glad that you did not go fishing today.”

  Then he plunged into his food, greedy in his hunger. He realized that to know the Wilderness he would have to become tougher.

  About halfway through his meal, Dreibrand realized that Miranda and her daughter were staring at him. A critical curiosity shone from the dark eyes of the little girl. Elendra sucked crumbs off her fingers as she regarded him with an aloof expression that did not quite fit her cute face.

  “What is your name?” Dreibrand asked.

  Elendra turned her gaze to her mother, who answered, “This is Elendra, and my son is Esseldan.”

  “I like those names,” Dreibrand responded.

  “Mama, he talks funny,” Elendra declared.

  “Do not talk to people like that,” Miranda snapped, fearing the comment would anger the man.

  Dreibrand chuckled, “I get that all the time. I promise to work on my Bosta, Elendra.”

  His good-natured reply relaxed Miranda somewhat, and she explained to Elendra, “Our language is not his language.”

  “Your Bosta sounds a little different than how I learned it,” Dreibrand commented.

  Miranda shrugged. “I am not a Bosta. I originally lived south of the Bosta territory in Ciniva.”

  Dreibrand recalled the area and nodded with understanding. The dialect in Ciniva lingered in Miranda’s speech.

  He finished eating and after thanking Miranda again, he proposed, “Do not worry about the food. Tomorrow I will go back to the camp and scavenge. They had decent supplies and hopefully I can find Hydax’s bow. Then I can hunt for you.”

  This plan surprised Miranda. “You would help me like that?” she asked doubtfully.

  “Yes, Miranda. You saved me from a horrible death. I want to show my gratitude, and I want to eat also.” Lowering his voice, he glanced at the children. “Anyway, I think maybe you could use help.”

  Miranda cast her eyes down in worry. She felt naturally inclined to like Dreibrand, but she never felt inclined to trust anyone.

  I am not in a position to turn down help, she admitted to herself.

  “But it will be too dangerous. That thing will still be there,” she whispered.

  “Probably nearby,” he conceded. “But I have to go back for the food and gear. And my weapons are lying on the ground.” In Atrophaney he moaned, “I pray to Golan I can find Starfield.”

  Mixed emotions tore through Miranda. She was afraid of the beast and no longer wanted to be alone. Although she was wary of him, Dreibrand’s presence did comfort her. The thought of supplies from the unfortunate camp had appeal as well.

  “I would go now, but I have to rest,” Dreibrand said. He stretched out beside the fire and with a sigh closed his eyes.

  As he dozed fitfully, Miranda reassessed her situation. She had not expected to save a strange man’s life, especially an Atrophane. She wondered if Dreibrand really intended to return with scavenged supplies, assuming the fenthakrabi did not kill him. By the quality of his clothing Miranda suspected that he possessed some rank among his people, but the reason for his captivity she could not guess. She resolved to find out later why a wealthy Atrophane would be the prisoner of his own people out in the Wilderness. For now he could rest, but until she knew more, she could not make a reliable judgment of him.

  Miranda collected her children and the horse and went to the waterfall. Freedom drank and grazed happily on the fresh vegetation. The water roared down from the high cliff, sending out a cooling spray, and Miranda fished downstream where the water calmed itself briefly into a deep pool. She strained her ears for any sound of the beast, but hoped that it still fed on its earlier victims and would not be hunting.

  Elendra sensed the stress in her mother and stayed close. The afternoon faded, and no fish rewarded Miranda’s efforts. Discouraged and afraid, Miranda looked at the sun above the cliffs and wished she could be up on that high land. It seemed safer up there.

  Dreibrand heard the small family returning to the camp and opened his eyes. His face was in the dirt, and he pushed himself up slowly. The beating from yesterday had matured into a deep and thorough discomfort, but his nap had eased the headache slightly. The dry gravelly taste in his mouth bothered him the most and he felt complete gratefulness when Miranda dangled her canteen over him.

  “You save me again,” he mumbled and took the water.

  Miranda busied herself building up the fire. Dusk passed into night and they ate another small meal. Brooding on his situation, Dreibrand scanned the darkening forest with his blue eyes.

  Elendra fell asleep by the fire, and Miranda wrapped a blanket around her. After discreetly feeding her son, she slipped the baby into his basket.

  Dreibrand added wood to the fire and gestured for her to sit next to him. Miranda seated herself but not particularly close to him.

  Before he could start the conversation, Miranda announced, “I am going to ask you questions now.”

  “What do you want to know?” he said with a friendly tone.

  “Why were you a prisoner?”

  Dreibrand kept looking at her but was slow to reply. Finally he answered, “I am—I was an officer in the Atrophaney military. I served Lord General Kwan, who is a powerful Hordemaster. His orders displeased me and I left in a fit of rage. I was stupid.”

  He shifted his gaze to the flames and shook his head. His narrow escape from death that day made him realize how much he had given up. No army surrounded him now, and his vulnerability in this Wilderness was total.

  “What were your lord’s orders?” Miranda pressed for details.

  Dreibrand gave into the urge to confess the rest of his foolishness to this strange woman. She was the closest thing he had to a friend. “After we conquered Droxy, I was to escort the chattel caravan back to Atrophane, present Darmar Zemthute II with his share, and distribute the rest to Lord Kwan’s estates,” he explained. Even now, he did not want to go back to Atrophane.

  “You would actually see the Darmar of Atrophane?” Miranda asked in shock.

  He nodded modestly, but privately enjoyed the fact that she was impressed.

  “And you run aw
ay from this honor?” she asked incredulously.

  “It is more a chore than an honor, but I suppose it meant Lord Kwan trusted me,” Dreibrand said. “I got upset because I did not want to go back to Atrophane. I wanted to stay here and be with the first Atrophane to explore the Wilderness. But Lord Kwan ordered me back home.”

  “Those men that captured you were sent by your Lord Kwan to bring you back,” Miranda concluded.

  “Yes. I was ill prepared and could not fight them off,” Dreibrand said. Discussing his capture embarrassed him.

  Miranda found his story strange. “Why would you leave? You are obviously a rich lord,” she observed.

  This comment made Dreibrand laugh, which made his sides hurt more. That Miranda thought he was a wealthy lord amused him greatly.

  His mood much lightened, Dreibrand ended her confusion. “Oh Miranda, I am not a rich lord. The House of Veta is waning and destitute. These nice clothes you see are all I have, except for my horse and sword lost in the forest. My family has only one estate left, and that is mismanaged by my incompetent father.”

  “One estate sounds like a lot to me,” Miranda commented.

  “Not when your family used to have seventeen,” Dreibrand explained.

  Her mouth opened with astonishment. Such wealth Miranda had never really imagined. “How could your family lose so much?” she asked.

  The question made Dreibrand uncomfortable and Miranda apologized, “I am sorry. I ask too much.”

  “Actually it is nice to meet someone who does not know,” he said. “I might as well tell you.

  “Twenty-three years ago my grandfather assassinated the Minister of the Treasury because with the position empty, the Darmar at the time was certain to choose my grandfather as the replacement. The Treasury post is a very important position in the Empire. Back then my family was rich and respected, and the assassination would have been forgotten, except that one of my grandfather’s rivals uncovered the plot.

  “Faced with the evidence, the Darmar could not ignore my grandfather’s crimes, and the Darmar had him executed. In addition, nine of our estates were forfeited to the Darmar. Other estastes were seized and distributed to other nobles. Since then, the Empire has officially censured the House of Veta for seven generations, and to make matters worse my father has squandered our fortune. I have no inheritance, and our last remaining estate is reserved for my worthless older brother. He is a spoiled failure who wastes money in gambling houses and brothels.”

  Now that Dreibrand spoke about his family, he felt better about being stranded in the forest with a dangerous beast.

  Miranda found it intriguing that people who had everything could make such problems for themselves, but she could empathize with a bad family life that had no future.

  “I have a few questions about the Atrophane Horde,” Miranda continued.

  Dreibrand looked at her attentively, and she asked, “If I had stayed in Droxy with my children, would your soldiers have killed us?”

  This question caught Dreibrand off guard. He did not want to imagine Miranda at the mercy of marauding soldiers.

  “You could have been killed,” he admitted. “But they would have wanted to take you alive. You would be a valuable slave.”

  “Is that how you see me?” Miranda demanded angrily.

  Dreibrand noted her defensive tone and her presence in the forest suddenly made more sense. War turned people into slaves, but it also gave slaves an opportunity to run away.

  “Anyone can be a slave,” Dreibrand said.

  “I am not a slave,” Miranda insisted.

  Reacting to her sharp tone, he inquired, “Who has been hitting you?”

  Miranda parted her lips, but faltered, uncertain what to say.

  “Before you deny it, I saw the bruises on the side of your face when you cleaned my wounds, and the cut still shows on your lip,” Dreibrand said.

  Her hand strayed to the bruise near her ear. She noted that Dreibrand was a very observant man, and not easily lied to. “I guess you could say I deserted too,” she conceded.

  Dreibrand appreciated her subtle admission.

  “Enough talk of me,” she declared, taking back control. “Would the Atrophane have killed my children?”

  It disturbed Dreibrand to hear her questions. After expanding the Empire for two years, he had seen atrocity. “Sometimes children get killed,” he murmured.

  Finally Miranda felt justified in her actions. Fleeing into the Wilderness was perhaps foolish, but it may have saved her children’s lives.

  “Do you kill children?” she added coldly.

  “No, of course not,” Dreibrand answered quickly as if he had a choice. “I am an honorable warrior, not a mad dog.”

  Miranda hoped it was true.

  After an awkward silence, Dreibrand complimented her actions. “You were wise to stay out of Droxy, but what is your next step?”

  Miranda considered her options. “I saw my village burning when I rode up here, and if my former master saw me again, I think he would kill me, so I suppose I will make my way back to Ciniva,” she replied but with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

  “Back to your family?” he wondered.

  Miranda frowned as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. “I have no family, except for my father, who sold me into slavery when I was fourteen. I will fend for myself. I can make money in one of the towns,” she decided. Miranda made this plan as she spoke the words and inwardly accepted the means by which she would support her family.

  “It does not sound like you have much to go back to,” Dreibrand noted.

  “No. But I will go on,” she whispered.

  “I have an idea,” Dreibrand said. “We could find the way up these cliffs while things cool down around Droxy.”

  “We?” Miranda repeated.

  “Yes. I seriously think we should join forces,” he stated. “I want to explore while I am here, and then I will help you get back to Ciniva.”

  “Who says I need your help for that?” Miranda argued.

  “You will want to avoid the Atrophane, and the Bosta Territory will be under martial law for at least a year. To do this you must stick to the backcountry, which will be occupied by bandits and other desperate sorts. You will not be safe, but I could protect you.”

  Miranda had to admit that he gave good reasons.

  He added, “And with that fenthakrabi around, we both need someone to watch our backs.”

  This reason carried the most weight. Although reluctant to trust him, she had to be practical and conceded the need for a companion.

  “You say you can collect weapons from the camp tomorrow?” she said thoughtfully.

  “Unless that thing carries weapons—and I hope it does not—I should get my sword, dagger, a bow, and maybe another sword or two,” he responded.

  “If you promise to share these weapons with me, I will accompany you—as long as it pleases me,” she stated her terms.

  Dreibrand grinned at her caution, admiring the way she conducted herself like a general. “You can have half of everything. I will even teach you how to use a weapon,” he offered happily.

  Learning how to defend herself appealed greatly to Miranda. “You will teach me then.”

  “We are agreed?” he urged.

  “Yes. We will travel together,” she said.

  Dreibrand seemed genuinely pleased, but Miranda remained neutral. She would wait to see if he kept his promises.

  Next they agreed to split the watch throughout the night. Miranda let Dreibrand rest first because he was hurt. He buttoned his blue silk jacket while curling up on the bare ground, and made a mental note to find a blanket. Before giving in to his exhaustion, he asked sleepily, “Miranda, how can it be that no one lives west of Droxy?”

  Hugging her knees and staring alertly into the night, she said simply, “Because anyone who enters the Wilderness never comes back.”

  8 ~ The Queen Sets Her Price ~

  She decided to sum
mon her boatman. She was overdue for a trip across the lake to the tomb of her mate.

  It was a windy day in the high mountain valley where her race lived. The sun was bright and hot overhead but the wind was sharp and biting coming down from the icebound peaks that disdained the coming lowland summer.

  With a thought, she roused the attention of the loyal servant whose duty it was to ferry her over the water. After brief contact with his mind, she felt him promptly respond and head to the boathouse to ready her skiff.

  From the terrace that she stood on, she viewed the city along the lakeshore. Beneath her, the blocky tiers of her dark stone Keep descended like a staircase for giants. Her residence dominated the smaller homes and halls of her city built of blue stone quarried from the surrounding mountains. Down in the streets she could see some of her kind moving about their daily routines. Even when close to her subjects, she always saw them as small as she did now.

  She turned and went inside. Her vast royal bedchamber was warm and soft after being on the windy terrace. Thick carpets padded the floor. Their rare expensive dyes mingled in a weave of purple, bright yellow, and iridescent green that shifted colors depending on the angle of viewing. Tapestries made by talented artists long dead covered the walls, and large oval crystals embedded in the stone pillars and ceiling beams glowed with blue light. The bedding of her great four-posted bed was disheveled. Her sleep had been troubled recently, and she had arisen early. But instead of summoning servants to attend her, she had paced her chambers and terrace like an animal caged for a show.

  She recognized the feeling that unsettled her. In her dreams, it was as if a barefooted intruder prowled her chamber. And waking, she could almost hear the steps behind her.

  But it had been so long, so very long since anyone had entered her land from the east. Perhaps it would feel good to release her minions again, but she would look first this time. She would look because it had been so long and even one who had seen the ages could be curious.

  She dressed. Her wardrobe filled three rooms, taking up more space than some of the smaller homes in the city. Racks and shelves and mannequins wearing fine gowns populated the rooms and seemed more like a museum collection than a living wardrobe. She selected a soft lamb’s wool dress with aquamarines and blue topaz beads sewn into the seams. Long sleeved, high collared, and with a narrow skirt, the dress enhanced her height. She left her long white hair free and loose, and it tumbled about her shoulders like a frozen waterfall. The white dress matched her hair and the jewels picked up the color of her skin the color of a perfect summer sky.

  Her Keep was large and she traveled many halls and descended many wide staircases on her way to the ground level. The occasional servant bowed to her as she went. None of them made eye contact as they murmured a greeting to their Queen.

  And she spoke to them not at all. Their respect and subservience were what she required of them and she always got both.

  She emerged from her Keep next to the lake where a stone pier connected the building to the lake. The ever-lapping waters murmured melancholy rumors to the rocky shore, and the surface of the deep blue lake rippled and glittered in the bright day. Beyond the waters rose the solitary tower that was her destination. Separate from the city, it had been built long ago, before even her birth. Master builders from another age had erected it, making it strong with both the fitting of stone blocks and the strength of their spells. She had enhanced it with magic of her own, protecting it from time, and protecting it from everything.

  Her boatman, Hefshul, awaited her on the pier. The wind tugged at his wispy white hair, and, unlike the other servants, he looked at his Queen with black disinterested eyes. His mouth was a thin-lipped straight line and he did not speak. For many silent centuries, he had served his Queen on her errands across the water.

  The small skiff that he would paddle for her bobbed invitingly in the water. Next to Hefshul stood another figure who the Queen burned with an acid glance when she reached the shore. Hefshul bowed immediately, but the other stood straight and met her eyes with a confidence that wished to be her equal.

  “Onja, my Queen, what prompts this trip across the lake today?” he asked.

  “Do not question my business, Shan,” Onja said. He has been watching me, she thought and regretted her agitated pacing earlier that day. She should not have been so obvious about being disturbed. She did not want him nosing into her affairs.

  “Take me with you, my Queen. Let me enter the tomb, so sacred to us all,” Shan proposed.

  She had only contempt for his audacity. “It is the tomb of my mate. It is not for you. It is my place to be with him,” Onja said.

  “He was the King of us all. I would like to show respect. I am sure that others would too,” Shan persisted.

  “Your respect is your obedience to me,” Onja told him.

  Hefshul watched their interaction. Their speech was civil but the simmering hiss of their hostility bubbled against his senses.

  Anger narrowed the black eyes of Shan ever so slightly, but the fires of his powers were not stirred. At last he dipped his head and his black hair streaked with white fell over his face. “As you have taught me, my Queen,” he said.

  Onja brushed past him, haughty and satisfied by his submission. “Begone before you anger me,” she commanded.

  He complied, but as he moved away from the shore, Onja felt how his mind lingered over her. He would monitor her, she knew, but he would not see within the tower.

  She did not need assistance to board the skiff. Her mighty mind cast tiny spells that stabilized it in the water and prevented it from rocking while she settled into the single passenger seat. Hefshul hopped in nimbly and took up his oar at the rear of the boat. Quietly, he paddled and conveyed his Queen to the tower.

  After grounding the skiff onto the gravel shore, he placed his oar patiently across his knees and prepared to wait. He was forbidden to go ashore, and he was alone among his kind in being allowed so close to the tower. Onja never mentioned how long she would be when visiting the tomb of her long-dead mate. Hefshul was expected to be there for her whether she was inside an hour or a week.

  Onja walked up to the tower that none of her living subjects had seen the inside of. The timbers of its doors were as sound as the day they had been cut. Once, many visitors had been welcomed by these doors, but now they were locked against the world and admitted only Onja.

  Blue light filled her eyes and she murmured the word of opening that controlled the doors. “Keppaneah,” she said.

  A blue shimmer spread up the timbers and they slowly glided open on great hinges that did not rust. After she entered, the doors automatically shut behind her. The enforced gloom of the tower yielded to her power and the crystals set in the walls of the vaulted hallway glowed when she neared them. The light drove back some of the ancient darkness as Onja walked down the hall and into the empty throne room. Inside this great circular chamber, memories rushed back to her of a time when she was young. She smiled as she recalled vanquishing all of her enemies and casting out the false lords who had built this tower in her homeland and dared to call it theirs.

  The interior chamber was open all the way up to the roof, and every level in between opened onto the hollow center of the tower. High above, the daylight came through skylights.

  She ascended to the tower’s highest level where her mate was interred in a crystal sarcophagus. Skylights opened the upper level to the sunny sky that cast its golden brilliance upon the sarcophagus, making it shimmer as if it was more a part of the heavens than the living world.

  Onja approached the sarcophagus and set her hands on it. The massive crystal block was cool but it began to warm to her touch. Within the translucent quartz, she could see her lover, the King, who had been at her side in rich glorious days that only she remembered. She looked down on the King, whose blue body in silver armor refracted crookedly through the crystal.

  The sarcophagus became warmer and blue light radiated fr
om her hands and pushed deeper into the rock. The same blue light emanated from Onja’s eyes that ceased to blink or to see her immediate surroundings.

  “Dacian, help me see. Help me see as far as we can,” she said out loud.

  Inside his body there remained power. His great power had once enticed her with its magnificence. His strength had been irresistible, something she had to possess, always.

  In her mind, she spoke to him again. “Dacian, more. I want to see them,” she commanded.

  Onja meditated. Her mind could see far beyond herself and deploy her magic throughout her realm. With her mind’s eye she searched eastward, out of her mountain kingdom and onto a rolling prairie where animals roamed and lived without the knowledge of humankind. Then she entered an area shunned by life, where no animals burrowed or grazed or hunted. Sad standing stones dotted the forsaken stretch of prairie. From the stones, the cold breath of thousands of souls called to her. The lifeforce of their mistress had not touched them for over a century, and the dead voices of the damned wailed to her for freedom.

  Onja moved over them, ignoring their calls and giving them no commands. As she pushed farther, the land blossomed again beneath her awareness. Crossing such distances in her mind wearied her and she drew deeply upon her inner strength and demanded more of Dacian, who gave.

  “You were always so giving,” she told him sweetly.

  A virgin forest began to encroach upon the prairie as she traveled farther south and east. Old trees grew in a place that knew no axes. This was her gift to the land. She protected it. The filthy refugees who had scrambled from her wrath so long ago like so many rats had never been allowed to scurry back close to her domain.

  But they were sniffing their way back again. Eventually humans always came back. She pushed her mind as far as it would go, and to feel her limit sickened her, but she could see whose feet had been treading at the edge of her mind. Struggling to maintain the clarity of her vision, she looked upon fresh green shrubs and grasses flourishing in a place of charred trees. Here, she spied two horses bearing riders – a man with a woman and children.

  Children, she thought and focused on their small lifeforces. They were so vibrant, glowing still from the fires of their creation. As she strained against the distance, the children made her feel her age. They beckoned her with their sweet innocent vitality, and she was glad that she had looked.

  Greed urged her to grant the intruders mercy, and she chose not to set loose her minions to cleanse her land as she had always done before. The price for entering her land this time would be different from death.

  While enjoying the glow of the children’s lifeforces, Onja examined the adults. The minds of the man and woman were foreign to her and she had to concentrate to decode their thoughts in languages unknown to her. But their secrets and desires were there to find. After laboring deep in her grueling meditation, her crafty mind set lures in the thoughts of the adults and she would eventually hook them to her will and make them come to her.

  “Come, come, just a little farther. So much to see. Nothing for you to go back to,” she whispered until her words echoed in the subconscious of each unsuspecting human. Their longings were easy to nudge in her direction. The man wanted to explore and find a new path for his life, and the woman wanted only escape.

  “Bring them!”

  When her seeds were planted, she extracted her mind from the humans and began the long climb out of her trance. The Wilderness fell away from her inner vision and she flew through darkness as her mind sought to reunite with her body.

  Onja was weak when she finally saw through her own eyes again. Blue fires dwindled in her pupils to just flickers. She was on her knees with her torso draped across the sarcophagus. She could not lift her head. The tower was dark except for the pulsing blue light swirling around Dacian in his crystal case. Stars watched them through the skylights.

  Onja finally shut her eyes and severed her connection with her entombed mate. The crystal against her face was cooling but she could still feel him inside it. He had given her strength and she had fed on it greedily, but his mind had been silent. She could take much from him, but she had never been able to take his thoughts unless he chose to share them.

  She worked on renewing her flesh with long deep breaths. She was tired and would sleep well when she returned to her bedchamber. She had seen who had entered her Wilderness. The tiny wandering family might give her much sport, and she smiled as she anticipated their arrival.

  9 ~ Possibilities in a New Land ~

  By night or by day

  If from rules you stray

  The demons of the wood

  Will take you for good

  To where no men go

  A place only for Gods to know.

  —Bosta nursery rhyme

  The first day of their partnership began in dispute. When Dreibrand asked to borrow Miranda’s knife, she opposed him vehemently.

  “I need it to cut down a sapling and sharpen it into a spear. I will give it right back,” he explained with exasperation.

  Miranda rested her hand protectively on the knife in her sash. “I will not give you my knife and leave myself with nothing,” she stated.

  “But I must have something before I go. My bare hands are not enough,” he argued.

  “I will make it then,” Miranda offered.

  Dreibrand exhaled with frustration and demanded, “Why can’t you trust me with the knife? Do you think I will hurt you? You should already trust me. You slept last night during my watch. I could have done anything to you.”

  “I only had my eyes closed,” Miranda corrected.

  Reluctantly, Dreibrand abandoned his anger and grinned. You were sleeping for a little while, he thought, but respected her bluff.

  “Fine. Then can I borrow your horse?” he inquired.

  Miranda scowled at the absurdity of his request.

  Refusing to accept an impasse, Dreibrand reasoned, “We need to trust each other. Miranda, I know a lot of people are mean, but I will not hurt you. You saved me yesterday.”

  Gradually the opposition drained from her defiant gaze, and she held out the knife for him. When he took it, Miranda quickly stepped back. Dreibrand grumbled a thank you and immediately went to hack down some saplings. He sharpened two into crude spears and gleaned some confidence from the pointy sticks.

  He returned the knife to Miranda, presenting it handle first. She snatched it back without offering any words of apology for her suspicion.

  Taking a deep breath, Dreibrand mentally prepared himself to hike into the forest. The fearsome fenthakrabi had to be in the vicinity and he felt stalked already.

  “I will be back as quick as I can,” he said.

  Hesitantly, Miranda wished him luck and he started down the rocky slope. Before entering the forest, he turned and waved. Miranda had to admit that he possessed bravery to return to the scene of yesterday’s carnage.

  The day dragged and Miranda stayed vigilant, watching the trees and dreading the hellish scream of the beast’s attack. Despite her terror of the beast, they had a pressing need for food, and Miranda had to go fishing. While walking to the creek, Miranda decided she must be practical and warn her daughter of the danger. She explained that a large predator was somewhere in the forest, and if it attacked, Elendra must grab her brother and run.

  Elendra took the news well because she had already assumed as much. The little girl was scared but she could cope with the fear because her mother was with her. Hiding in the cave the day before had been much harder.

  Today, Miranda had better luck and netted six fish. To her hungry eyes, they looked like a tempting feast and she cleaned them quickly and threw the waste into the moving water.

  The fish made an especially delicious lunch after days of old bread and dried fruit. Miranda left two fish in the pan, intending them for Dreibrand, but he had not returned yet.

  “Is that man gone for good?” Elendra inquired, obviously hopeful that his dep
arture had been permanent.

  With a shrug, Miranda said, “He is supposed to come back.”

  The afternoon drifted by, and Miranda worried that he had been killed. With this thought came the realization that she had wanted his company. His presence the night before had been reassuring, and she had enjoyed his willingness to help. Now she had to face being alone in the Wilderness again, and this time she knew the fenthakrabi was there.

  Fighting off despair, Miranda buried her stress with tasks for the rest of the day. Returning to the creek, she washed her children and herself. The water was cold and invigorating, and it felt good to be clean. The water poured down from the Wilderness, and Miranda stood naked beneath the waterfall that washed away her old life.

  Next, Miranda altered her clothes. Her long skirt did not suit her for riding or moving about the forest, and she sewed it into pants. Every few stitches, she would look up, watching for danger, but she managed to finish the last of the stitching before the daylight faded.

  Elendra laughed at her when she put them on, but Miranda was rather pleased with the results. She enjoyed the secure feel of the cloth around her legs and the ease of movement.

  After building the fire up big and bright, Miranda took little comfort from it. She found herself pacing and trying to sort out her dilemma. She knew she was defenseless against the creature, but back in Droxy there was war, and worse yet, Barlow.

  Finally she sat down by herself away from the fire. As her eyes adjusted to the night, she watched silently. When Freedom nickered, her heart stopped with fear until she realized that the animal did sound afraid. Suddenly flushed with excitement, Miranda ran halfway down the slope just as Dreibrand emerged from the dusky forest. He rode a dappled gray horse, who neighed a reply to Freedom. Tremendous relief massaged Miranda, but now that Dreibrand had actually returned, she reserved her joy from him.

  “Sorry I took so long, but I had to track my horse,” Dreibrand patted the thick shoulder of his fine steed. “You did not run all the way back to Atrophane,” he murmured affectionately in his native tongue.

  Swinging down from his mount, Dreibrand laid a hand lovingly on the hilt at his hip and said, “By Golan, it is good to have my sword back.”

  Miranda noticed he now wore a breastplate of armor and a quiver of arrows was slung over his back. The bow was tied across the bulging saddlebags. Miranda flipped open one of the saddlebags to examine the contents.

  Dreibrand was unaccustomed to anyone looking at his things without permission, but he had promised to share and he tolerated her boldness.

  “I was able to get most of the supplies the scouts had,” Dreibrand explained. “That beast stuck mostly to the deer, and then it must have dragged off the bodies. But all the gear was untouched.”

  “Did you see it?” Miranda whispered fearfully.

  “No, thank the Gods.”

  “There is food waiting for you. I will tend your horse,” she said, and Dreibrand received the news happily.

  He yielded the reins and strode toward the fire, finding his cold fish dinner immediately. Now that he had his gear back and more supplies, Dreibrand felt able to cope with the Wilderness, and it excited him again. He missed the army less and liked Miranda more.

  He watched her unsaddle Starfield and tether the horse. She lugged the saddlebags over by the fire and pulled items out so she could look at them in the light.

  “Look Elendra, Dreibrand has brought us food,” she said. The girl peeked with interest at the new supplies, but she showed Dreibrand no gratitude. Miranda knew she could not make her daughter like him but the girl would have to learn to tolerate him.

  After assessing the foodstuffs, Miranda grabbed the sword that poked out of one of the bags. Dreibrand had wrapped the blade in a couple rags because the scabbard was presumably still attached to Gennor’s missing body. Miranda pulled back some of the cloth and admired the gleam of the blade in the firelight. Holding the weapon made her feel powerful.

  “That one is yours,” Dreibrand said.

  The quality of the weapon impressed Miranda, who had never possessed anything of value. Next she removed a hatchet and a butcher knife, but when she found an ivory handled dagger, her eyes lit up.

  “I want this too,” she breathed.

  Dreibrand gasped slightly and plucked it from her hand before she could react. Tucking the blade into its place on his swordbelt, Dreibrand said, “I did not mean for that to be in there. It is mine”

  When Miranda frowned, he snidely added, “You have your own knife.”

  She did not reply and thereby conceded the point. Dreibrand had come back and she did not have to be alone. And he had given her a sword. Grinning, she resumed her admiration of the weapon.

  “Have you ever shot a bow?” Dreibrand inquired.

  Timidly she shook her head.

  “I will teach you, but for now I will carry the bow because I will hunt with it,” he said.

  “And you will teach me to use this,” she said greedily and held up the sword.

  “Sure, but it sounds like you are in a hurry to hurt someone,” he joked.

  “I do not want to be defenseless,” she explained.

  Dreibrand agreed and added quietly, “I was worried about you all day.”

  His soft tone made her feel suddenly shy, and Miranda busied herself with the children. Elendra resisted her mother’s wish to go to sleep and argued against it even as Miranda tucked the blanket around her.

  “I am sick of sleeping on the ground,” Elendra complained.

  “You will get used to it,” Miranda predicted.

  “I want to go home,” the girl whined and Miranda stroked her round cheek with a sympathetic touch. She did not know how to explain that they could not go home. The shack in Wa Gira was probably destroyed, or at least Miranda hoped so.

  Miranda hummed a lullaby until her daughter drifted into the peaceful sleep of children. The tender maternal scene intrigued Dreibrand, who had rarely been around such family niceties.

  When the girl and baby were asleep, Miranda moved around the campfire to speak with Dreibrand.

  “I think we should move from this place. The beast might be very close, and someday soon it will want fresh meat,” she said.

  “I agree. And we are still close to Droxy,” Dreibrand reminded.

  “So your Lord Kwan will send more men after you?” Miranda asked.

  “Maybe in a few days. But he will give Hydax and Gennor a couple more days to report back,” Dreibrand replied.

  Miranda eyed his weapons and foreign clothes. Associating herself with a wanted person felt strange, but she supposed runaway slaves who stole horses kept such company.

  “So do you know a way over the cliffs?” Dreibrand asked.

  Miranda shook her head and appeared dubious about his destination. “Why do you want to go up there?”

  “Because it is the Wilderness. You must be curious?” he said with enthusiasm.

  Now that she thought about it, she was surprised to find that she was curious.

  The firelight bounced up only a tiny portion of the cliff, and Dreibrand stared at the dark rock above. The stars marked the edge of the rocky barrier.

  “It does not make sense that this place is uninhabited,” he remarked. “No ocean or desert separates this land from civilization. It is good green land and people should be there.”

  “No one has ever come out of the west,” Miranda said.

  “But I think people are there,” Dreibrand insisted. “Now that I am seeing for myself how large our world Ektren is, I cannot accept that people only live in one place. I believe more than ever that a great kingdom must be in the west. The Wilderness might be a buffer zone for protection. A frontier without roads or people can be difficult for an army to cross.”

  His theory amused Miranda, who had never heard such an idea before. “Or it may just be an empty haunted land, like everyone says,” she suggested, thinking of the fenthakrabi.

  Dr
eibrand frowned because he thought his explanation the most plausible. With clear skepticism he said, “I have also been told that thousands of years ago, Gods made war in the Wilderness and now they do not let humans live there.”

  “I have heard that one too,” Miranda said.

  “Well, maybe after all this time, the Gods will let me live there,” he said.

  “You really want to be in the Wilderness,” Miranda observed.

  “It is my dream,” Dreibrand confessed. “I feel strangled in my homeland, and I want to start a new life for myself. Where better to do so than a new land?”

  “Then which way do you want to go?” Miranda asked.

  “Well, it is north or south. I feel inclined to look north,” he said.

  “Why north?” she wondered.

  Dreibrand shrugged. “I just have a feeling, and I have to choose somehow.”

  When Miranda considered his decision, she had no preference in direction. The next morning they rode north and Dreibrand’s eagerness to explore was almost contagious to her. His excitement allayed her fear of the fenthakrabi.

  It rained that first night away from the cave, and Miranda endured the exposure. She wrapped Esseldan close to her body and managed to keep him dry. Luckily it was only a mild spring shower, but Elendra complained as if it had been a heavy storm.

  Except for this, the next three days passed pleasantly, and they saw no sign of the fenthakrabi, although they kept watch every night. One afternoon they rode into an area that had suffered a forest fire in the past year or two. The land was open, providing a wide view, and covered with young vegetation.

  Even though a green layer of renewal blessed the land, the blackened bare trunks of trees claimed by the fire haunted the area.

  Dropping back beside Miranda, Dreibrand commented, “I still do not understand why none of your people have migrated here. This land is good. Look how quickly the land recovers.”

  “People are afraid. They believe they cannot live west of Droxy,” Miranda explained.

  “The Wilderness is where demons take bad children,” Elendra piped in.

  Miranda chuckled nervously. Old folktales meant to intimidate children no longer seemed like a wise tactic.

  After raising an eyebrow at the girl’s disturbing comment, Dreibrand said, “But you are not afraid to explore?”

  “Oh, I am very afraid,” Miranda admitted, “But I am more afraid of war.”

  “As you should be, Miranda,” he said darkly, remembering all the cities and towns he had razed.

  They developed the habit of making a camp by late afternoon, which allowed enough daylight for Miranda’s archery lesson. Dreibrand did not consider himself a master archer, but he was competent with all standard weapons and a capable teacher. Eager to learn, Miranda took her lessons seriously and progressed rapidly. He taught her how to hold the bow and where and when to pull and release the string. Hydax’s old bow was a bit strong for her, but she managed.

  With the hatchet Dreibrand hacked a cross into a tree to provide a target. He gently adjusted her stance before she drew back the string, and then he stepped back while she took her aim. His attention on their task faded and his gaze drifted along her shoulder and down her back. He found himself wanting to put a hand on her hip and maybe rub the small of her back with his thumb.

  The string rolled off her fingers and the arrow struck the target. Miranda gasped with delight at her first perfect shot, and Dreibrand snapped out of his daydreams.

  “Good shot!” he cried.

  Miranda grinned with pride as she trotted to retrieve her arrow.

  “Be careful taking it out. These arrows need to last as long as possible,” he called.

  After archery practice, they sparred with the swords. Dreibrand taught her the basics of swordplay, which she found very awkward at first. Learning to handle the weapon with finesse and balance would take time Miranda realized.

  Dreibrand enjoyed the sparring even though it did not challenge his skills. When he finished Miranda’s lesson, he trained on his own. He worked through a regimen of forms, swinging his sword, lunging, and sometimes he would even switch the weapon from hand to hand while the blade spun perilously. His body moved in graceful conjunction with his weapon, and he pushed his body to go longer and faster. Despite the empty country around him, Dreibrand suspected he would need to defend himself sooner or later.

  Most days Miranda watched his display of physical skill, and even Elendra was fascinated by his exercises. As the day withdrew behind the omnipresent cliffs, Dreibrand stopped. He was panting a little and wiped sweat from his brow.

  “Dreibrand, when you fight in a battle, is that what you do?” Miranda asked curiously. The speed and poise of his movements looked intimidating, but she could not quite imagine such a ballet taking place in a life and death struggle.

  “No, not exactly. But as I practice, my body learns the movements, and I will react to attack in the appropriate way without thinking about it,” he explained.

  “Have you fought in this way much?” she wondered.

  For an instant many episodes of killing and mayhem flashed across his memory, but he spoke quietly despite the intense images. “I have fought in many battles.”

  “How do you keep from being afraid?” Miranda said with genuine interest. Dreibrand had faced great armies of men and survived, but she had never been able to resist Barlow.

  “As an Atrophane, I should say that I have no fear, but that is not true,” he admitted. “All I can say is accept the fear—it can make you strong when you need it most. Because the fear cannot be avoided, use it to stay alive instead of letting it get you killed. And, well, the more you survive, the more you thrive on the risk.”

  While she contemplated his answer, Dreibrand decided, “We should rest here tomorrow. I will go hunting. We need fresh food.”

  “That is fine,” Miranda said absently.

  That night around the fire Dreibrand bounced Esseldan on his lap and lifted him playfully into the air. Both man and boy seemed intrigued by each other, and Esseldan cooed happily from Dreibrand’s attention.

  “At least one of your kids likes me,” he said.

  Elendra pointedly ignored the comment.

  “He is a good baby,” Miranda said.

  “You must be proud to have such healthy children,” Dreibrand remarked.

  “I suppose I am,” she muttered.

  When Esseldan assumed a crankier mood, Dreibrand placed him in his basket, and the baby actually slipped into sleep. Yawning noisily, Dreibrand stretched his arms. Generally he would sleep soon, and Miranda would take the first watch. He unbuckled his chestplate and groaned when he removed the armor.

  “Chest armor can sure save your life, but sometimes it just has to come off,” he complained.

  After carefully placing his armor on top of his other gear, he took off his fine officer’s jacket, which left him wearing a white silk shirt ruined by sweatstains. Smacking some of the dust off the jacket, he offered it to Miranda.

  “I thought you could use this. Your clothes are all worn out,” he said.

  “But don’t you need it?” she protested, suspicious of the gift but clearly wanting it.

  “No, I still have a good shirt. Now wear this,” he insisted.

  Hesitantly, Miranda reached out and received the garment. The weight of the richly quilted jacket surprised her. Never before possessing anything but homespun, she fingered the fabric and admired the construction. Slipping it on, she began rolling up the sleeves.

  “Thank you,” she beamed.

  Dreibrand laughed, reminded of a party where a naked dancing girl had frolicked drunkenly in an officer’s jacket. He did not share the memory with Miranda.

  “I promised to share,” he said cheerfully. “Of course you deserve clothing for a fine lady, but this will help for now.”

  When Miranda looked up from the jacket again, Dreibrand still gazed at her. Their eyes locked for an instant, but she qu
ickly broke the connection. Dreibrand thought she was beautiful. He wanted to tell her, to touch her, but Miranda had not given any indications that she would welcome any advances. Even when she breastfed her son, she was careful that he never glimpsed a bit of breast.

  He did not act on his feelings, deciding that it would be a mistake. Miranda had only started being more relaxed around him, and he did not want to disturb that progress with his common lust.

  The next day when Dreibrand went hunting, he spent more time scouting than actually hunting. The land was thick with game, and he was confident that he could shoot something on the way back to camp. Despite his family’s declining position, he had grown up as a member of the ruling class and had enjoyed many formal hunting parties.

  He hiked north and the land became rougher. From the top of a hill he could see that a range of foothills began, and beyond that rose mountains. This pleased him because at some point the cliff should fade into the hills. At that point he could ascend to the next level of land that looked so violently lifted from the earth.

  His efforts were rewarded quicker than he hoped. The mighty rock wall of the cliff became lower and lower as he climbed into the hills, and finally he found the weak point. Crumbling beneath the elements, a broken rocky slope bit deeply into the cliff all the way to the top, and a stream came down in many rivulets. They would have to be careful climbing the eroded slope, but he judged that the horses could manage the path.

  Dreibrand lingered, staring at the gap in the cliff, his gateway to the heart of the Wilderness. Excited by the possibilities, Dreibrand wondered what fortunes waited for him above. He longed to climb the cliff immediately but he had traveled farther from camp than usual and he still needed to hunt. The thrill of breaching the barrier would have to wait until tomorrow.

  On his way back to camp, he amused himself with thoughts of returning to civilization and knowing the path into the Wilderness. His knowledge would be unique and he could solicit wealthy investors to finance an expedition.

  His stomach growled, and Dreibrand had to put aside his schemes. He needed to focus on hunting and he did not want to return empty handed. He spied a small clique of antelope, and they were a type he had never seen before. With a challenging patience he stalked the tawny animals. Several times the antelope noted his presence and he would freeze. Although nervous by nature, the antelope did not directly associate him with danger. Creeping closer, he finally had a shot.

  The arrow pierced the intended calf and the animal dropped to the ground, dying quickly. He rushed to claim his prize but the distressed mother threatened him with curled horns. Dreibrand pulled out his sword and swung it at her. Unwilling to abandon her unfortunate offspring, the antelope was only deterred after several pokes.

  Glowing in the accomplishment of a successful day, he presented Miranda with the fresh meat. Providing for her gave him an unexpected sense of satisfaction.

  While the meat cooked Dreibrand sharpened his sword with a suitable stone he had collected. Now that he had a fresh kill in camp he worried the scent might draw predators, especially the fenthakrabi. He had specifically made a small kill so they could quickly eat it and be done with it. The leftovers would last a couple days, but the odor of the food would not be overwhelming.

  Listening to the stone scrape against the steel made Miranda nervous. Dreibrand’s preoccupation with the weapon reminded her of the perils of the Wilderness.

  “I found a way up the cliff north of here,” he said, not pausing from his work.

  “Then you still want to go west?” she asked.

  “Yes, a little way. Unless you object,” he said.

  Actually having someone consider her opinion startled her. What she thought or wanted had never counted before, and Miranda realized that she had been following Dreibrand rather meekly. She needed to think about what she was doing and act upon her thoughts. She was free now, and she repeated that fact in her mind like a lesson.

  Exploring westward with Dreibrand did not distress her, but she worried about her children. Elendra was sick of living outside, and the children deserved a home. It hurt knowing that she could not give them a home right now. Returning to Droxy was too dangerous for a number of reasons, and being free of Barlow had too much appeal.

  Heading into new lands gave her an incredible sense of possibility. She could reinvent herself now, and no one would ever look upon her as a poor man’s abused property.

  “I will go west with you,” she agreed. “But you must understand that I must return to civilization before winter.”

  “Of course, Miranda. I have no intention of freezing on some high mountain. We can head south soon. I will help you get to wherever you want to go. It is the least I can do for having my life saved,” he said.

  “You have helped us so much already, you do not have to worry about that. Just don’t get us lost,” she warned.

  That night a bright half moon illuminated a clear sky, and a silvery magic light was cast upon the forest. Halfway through Miranda’s watch wolves began to have their eerie conversation. The pack’s song was a low music that cut through sleep straight into instinct, and everyone woke up quickly. Elendra scrambled into her mother’s arms, and Esseldan fretted from the vibe of fear.

  Failing to sound reassuring, Dreibrand said, “I do not think they are too close. We should be safe.” Rising from the blanket he had salvaged from the scouts’ camp, he added fuel to the glowing coals.

  Miranda held Elendra tight. “See, Dreibrand thinks we will be fine. The fire will keep them away.”

  “Are we always going to live outside?” Elendra whimpered miserably.

  “We will have a home someday,” Miranda promised. “But it won’t be for a while. I am sorry.”

  Elendra only sobbed, but not too loudly in her fear.

  “Miranda go ahead and get some rest. I can watch now,” Dreibrand suggested. Gesturing toward her bedroll, he encouraged, “Do not worry. You are going to hear wolves in the forest.”

  Mostly for Elendra’s sake, Miranda agreed. The wolfsong went on for many more hours, and Miranda started to appreciate the beauty in the mystic music. They sang to the soul of the Wilderness and it made her heart ache.

  She awoke to the sounds of Dreibrand packing his gear. The sun was high and bright, and she had slept late.

  “Nothing bad happened,” he reported cheerfully. “But it is high time we started today.”

  Miranda heard the eagerness in his voice and rose stiffly from the ground, wondering when she had fallen asleep. And she had slept soundly, which surprised her.

  When they arrived at the washout in the cliff, Miranda looked upon it dubiously. In her eyes the slope appeared loose and treacherous. The rocks were sharp and unstable, and half of them were wet and slippery. They could not risk riding, and the horses would have to be led.

  “Race you to the top,” Dreibrand joked.

  “I don’t know about this. Are you sure?” Miranda worried.

  “Yes.” He tried to be emphatic but he sounded like he was still trying to convince himself. With increased conviction, he continued, “We can make it. It is only going to get rougher unless we get up to the plateau. You can see that it turns into mountains north of here.”

  Miranda grinned with shock at his bold words. “You don’t know that,” she argued.

  “Come one, Miranda. It is not that bad,” he persisted.

  “I said I would go last night,” she reminded him.

  Adjusting Esseldan in his sling, she dismounted and helped Elendra down. Dreiband led them but only a short way up both horses halted in mulish protest. It took considerable effort to persuade the horses to continue.

  Their progress was slow, and Dreibrand discovered that finding the path up was a much more meticulous task than he had thought. Sometimes they would have to backtrack when the rubble became too sharp or unstable, and try a different route. This procedure proved more difficult than climbing.

  Finally as they swe
ated in the afternoon sunshine, the rim of the great cliff reached down to them, and Dreibrand could see wildflowers in the overhanging turf. They splashed through the gap made by the stream, and a breathtaking view of mountains greeted Dreibrand when he scrambled onto the plateau with the swift water tugging at his heels. The lofty snowy peaks in the west looked much closer now, and he could almost feel the crisp alpine breeze in the distant glacial valleys. He breathed deeply of the pure air as he beheld the great mountain realm beyond the plateau.

  Dreibrand wondered if a man had ever stood at this spot before, and if so, why had he not come back?

  Hearing Miranda struggle in the current behind him snapped him out of the trance. Leaving his horse to drink, he rushed back to offer her a steady hand.

  Between leading the horse and holding Elendra’s hand, Miranda was bogged down with the burden of her infant son strapped to her back.

  Dreibrand picked Elendra up out of the water and carried her to dry land. At first he thought the girl would resist his help, but she was too tired after the climb to protest. Miranda thanked him gratefully as she slogged out of the water.

  Catching her wind after the labor up the cliff, Miranda said, “It is beautiful. Everything looks different up here. Cleaner somehow.”

  “Is it not amazing?” Dreibrand breathed. Already he did not want to go back.

  They lounged on the grassy bank for a while, cooling down from the exertion of the climb. Dreibrand leaned over the clear water, splashed some onto his face, and ran his wet hands through his long hair. Relaxing, he watched the stream flow by. His daydreaming faded eventually and he walked across the water to investigate something he saw in the mud.

  He would not relinquish his excellent mood until he was certain what he saw. For a moment he just stared at the man-shaped footprint pressed into the mud. He could clearly see the heel mark and the clawed toes, but the size was larger than a man, and Dreibrand knew what had recently strode up the bank.

  10 ~ Wolfsong ~

  Miranda’s face did not reveal her panic when she examined the ominous footprint. But she recalled the evil scream of the fenthakrabi and its vicious attack on the Atrophaney scouts and wondered how she would ever find the courage to face the thing. She glanced at her children, seeking strength.

  “Do you think it is the same one?” she asked.

  Dreibrand shrugged. “No way to know really.”

  “I guess I have bigger problems than wolves,” Miranda muttered.

  “Indeed,” agreed Dreibrand as his eyes roved the landscape. “We should get moving.”

  They continued west until dusk and camped in an open place. The sky to the north had turned dark and threatening, and their chances of escaping the storm looked slim. Miranda built a fire even though a stray drop of rain struck her face as the young flames started.

  Her tightening stomach banished her hunger as she realized that a dark wet night lay ahead. The beast stalked the land and the fire would not last the night.

  Dreibrand had been quiet for some time and his face was troubled. He had vivid memories of the beast as well, and he already felt them sabotaging his courage. When he had been tied down during the fenthakrabi attack, he had known a new level of fear. Dreibrand had thought he had mastered his fears long ago, but the slavering face of abomination had taught him otherwise.

  The tapping of rain quickened as a cold front hit the warm moist air from the south. Miranda threw her blanket over her head and Elendra scrambled under the meager protection. Esseldan snuggled inside her new jacket and had it the best of anyone.

  The rain commenced to pour, and Miranda struggled hopelessly with the fire. There had been no time for any decent coals to develop, and the fire smoked weakly in departure.

  Thunder rumbled angrily overhead, and its strong voice promised an opera. Dreibrand went to stand with the horses and hold them steady through the storm. The last rays of sunlight scurried behind the mountains and the black storm devoured the night. Rain beat on Dreibrand’s head and ran down his hair, soaking him thoroughly, and he hung his head with the horses. Since breaching the cliff barrier, all the signs had been bad and he marveled at his folly. Still, his warrior’s heart simply accepted that he would either survive or perish.

  The thunderstorm began to rage with real zeal. Lightning crashed and lighted the landscape in surreal flashes of clarity, exhilarating Dreibrand with terrible humility. Power surged through his body and his heartbeat felt like a note drawn out on a violin string. Then a horrendous crack split the world with noise and light. An old mossy tree accepted the mighty bolt and flew apart in a thousand electric shards.

  The pouring rain consumed the fire and guided the shattered trunk down. In compulsory terror every muscle of Dreibrand’s body screwed down tight, and his hands held the reins firmly when the horses jerked away.

  In the next flash of lightning, he saw Miranda huddled with her children under the soggy tent of her blanket.

  The worst of the storm lingered above them for many punishing minutes. Then reluctantly the thunderheads moved on. The brutal lightning diminished into the south, but the thunder rumbled reproachfully most of the night. The downpour relaxed into a miserable drizzle.

  With the quieting of the storm, Esseldan’s shocked wail filled the bleak night. Miranda despaired over his helpless cries flying toward unfriendly ears, but she could not soothe him.

  “Are you all right?” Dreibrand called.

  She replied that they were fine. The sky flashed a gentler blue and she briefly saw him holding the horses.

  Taking the horses, Dreibrand moved a little closer so he would not have to shout. “I will watch tonight, Miranda. I could never sleep in this kind of wet anyway,” he said.

  “Tell me if you need help,” she said. “Maybe this storm will keep…it away.”

  Wincing, Dreibrand wished she had not even mentioned it.

  The dawn came bright and sunny, attended by pure white clouds. Green and revitalized, the land was enriched by the storm, except for the blackened remnants of the blasted tree.

  Dreibrand opened his eyes and blearily took in the fresh morning. He had been dozing against the neck of Starfield. Wet and exhausted, he was glad to have the night over.

  Wrapped in the mud spattered blanket, Miranda and her family had managed to sleep after all. Dreibrand left them to wake on their own and went to gather some of the scorched wood, hoping to coax a fire from it. To dry out and have a decent breakfast after the supperless ordeal of the night would greatly relieve his exhaustion.

  Miranda emerged from her unsatisfying slumber. To stand in the sunny morning felt better than to lay in the soaking blanket. Esseldan was cranky and Elendra was positively surly. Miranda shook the water droplets from Esseldan’s basket and set him in it in a sunny place.

  “That was a scary storm,” Miranda said.

  Elendra nodded while rummaging in a pack for something to eat. “I don’t remember lightning ever being so close before, mama.”

  “Well, sometimes it hits right close by. I am glad we made it through,” Miranda said.

  She pulled off her silk jacket, which was heavy with water, and spread it over a bush to dry. All of her clothing felt clingy and damp, and her cheap tattered shoes squished muddily, but the bright morning helped to lift her wet spirits.

  Freedom and Starfield were still in their bridles after Dreibrand had held them all night. Fetching their hobbles, Miranda went to unbridle them and let them graze for the morning. As she walked leisurely toward the horses, Starfield lifted his head abruptly and made a sharp warning call. Freedom neighed nervously and they both became agitated.

  Instantly, Miranda realized something was wrong, very wrong, and there would not be much time. Dropping the hobbles, she raced toward the gear for the bow and quiver. She screamed for Dreibrand.

  Out in a grove of trees Dreibrand heard the horses squeal and Miranda’s cry. The wood clattered from his arms, and he sprinted back, prepared for
the worst.

  The worst was happening. The hideous man-shaped beast strode confidently into their campsite, and the horses scattered in terror. Dreibrand drew his sword and ran toward it, shrieking a battle cry. He intercepted the fenthakrabi before it reached Miranda and the children.

  Regarding him with dark remorseless eyes, it bellowed and lunged at Dreibrand with apish arms. He swiped at it with his sword and gave it several superficial cuts as it tried to reach him. The steel in his nerves surprised him now that he faced the beast. Being a free man wielding a sword helped his courage, but not as much as the desire to defend Miranda and her children. The thought of them being harmed gave him a frenzy of motivation.

  The beast tried to grab the sword but howled in pain when it grasped the sharp blade. With the strength of a bear the beast swiped at Dreibrand’s midsection, striking him in the torso. His armor spared his organs from the crushing blow, but he still was thrown to the ground and the beast hurled its fearsome bulk on top of him.

  The fanged jaws plunged toward his face, but Dreibrand grabbed its mouth with his left hand. The teeth slammed shut, but his thumb was lodged just behind the last molar and escaped being chomped off. Fiercely he squeezed the jaw and held back the slavering fangs. The fenthakrabi shrieked and sprayed him with hot reeking spittle as it pressed down with superior strength. Just before it succeeded in crushing the last of Dreibrand’s resistance, the beast stiffened and howled in pain. It tore off of him, and Dreibrand could see an arrow buried in its side.

  Seizing the chance, Dreibrand lashed out with his sword, ripping open its guts. Dreibrand lurched to his feet and swung his sword in a high killing blow that half decapitated it. The sinister light faded from the deranged eyes, and it fell back dead.

  After taking a few deep breaths to reaffirm that he was actually alive, Dreibrand lifted his sword high and exulted in his victory.

  “We can kill you!” he yelled into the silent forest.

  Miranda walked up holding the bow and stared at the bizarre beast. The frightful power of the animal was evident even in death. The bloodied form was larger than a man.

  “Gods! It is a monster. I really thought it had me,” Dreibrand panted.

  “Are you hurt?” Miranda asked laying a concerned hand on his arm.

  Happy from her touch, he replied, “I am fine thanks to you. That is twice you kept me off that thing’s dinner menu. At least I taught you well enough not to hit me.” He gestured to the bow.

  Miranda looked down guiltily and confessed, “Actually I was more than a little worried I would hit you.”

  “It was a true shot,” he said kindly while bending over to pull the arrow from the grotesque beast. It had lodged deeply in the ribs and snapped off in Dreibrand’s hand, making him swear in Atrophaney. He begrudged the loss of the arrowhead, but he did not feel inclined to cut into the beast and retrieve it. The animal smelled awful, and was already drawing flies.

  “What should we do with it?” Miranda asked. The size and strangeness of the beast mesmerized her. Now she saw in detail what others whispered about in mystery.

  Wiping sweat from his forehead, Dreibrand decided, “We leave it right here. If any more of these things are around, maybe they will see this and think twice before attacking us again. Now I will round up the horses so we can get out of here.”

  Still in their wet clothes, they quickly left the vicinity of the dead fenthakrabi. By noon they discovered a lovely lake nestled among stately pines. The water was clean and blue, and multitudes of wildflowers bloomed in all the sunny places. The spot was so untainted that they wondered if any human had ever been there before. Beautiful and tranquil, the lake seemed to be a part of Nature’s secret garden hidden away many long ages ago.

  Such a perfect place invited them to rest and recover from their recent trials. Dreibrand went to bathe in the lake, which gave Miranda some privacy to dry her and the children’s clothes. He stripped his wet garments and the warm sun felt wonderful on his skin. He wished he had some oil to rub on his armor.

  The water was cold beneath the sun-warmed top layer, but the pure water cleansed his body and removed the memory of the beast’s awful smell from his mind. The death of the beast relieved him greatly and he hoped they would not have to face such a thing again.

  He heard Miranda enter the water with her children, but foliage and a curve in the shore blocked his view of them. Elendra’s laughter drifted across the water, and Dreibrand attributed some magic power to the waters because they made the sour child laugh.

  That afternoon several plump fish landed in Miranda’s net, and her spirits were high. Wounding the beast with her arrow filled her with pride, and she felt strong and in control. Her terror that morning had not condemned her, and she had kept a steady hand and made a true shot. Having weapons pleased her, and Dreibrand had proved himself a worthy companion.

  While cleaning the fish on the lakeshore, she glanced watchfully at Elendra. The girl sat in a patch of flowers and draped daisies over Esseldan’s head.

  At least for a moment she is happy, Miranda thought.

  When she returned to the camp from her fishing spot, she saw Dreibrand’s clothes scattered near the fire. He had evidently returned, but Miranda could not see him.

  She called to him and his voice answered from nearby. Putting down her pack, she gave her baby to Elendra and then gathered his clothes and walked in the direction of his voice.

  As she entered the sunny clearing where she thought his voice came from, Miranda scolded, “Do not play games with me! Where are you?”

  Finding her indignation humorous, Dreibrand laughed and sat up, surprising her when he popped up out of the tall grass. He stretched his arms sleepily because he had been napping. His blanket covered him from the waist down, and his skin glowed from an afternoon’s worth of sun. Several fine white scars stood out on his shoulders and arms.

  Miranda tossed his clothes at his side. “These have been dry for some time,” she said.

  “Oh, you are no fun,” he teased and sheepishly grabbed his shirt.

  He saw her looking at his body, just as he wanted her to. Out in the Wilderness, just the two of them, it would seem so natural for her to kneel down beside him and embrace him among the tall sweet grass. He saw on her face that she shared his thought.

  Such feelings confused Miranda, and she worried that if she indulged her sudden curiosity, he would stop being nice to her. Barlow had been kind once—for two days. Then came the raping and rutting and beating. Miranda shuddered lightly, forcing the memories back in their cages.

  He does not deserve to be compared to Barlow, she thought.

  Dreibrand noticed that she was troubled and asked if something was wrong.

  “Just get dressed,” she ordered. “You can take first watch tonight. I am tired.”

  He nodded and said no more. It was clear that Miranda had retreated behind her defenses, as she often did, and no one was welcome.

  That night the weather was clear, and Miranda slept heavily with the children, and enjoyed a little peace of mind. Dreibrand sat away from the glowing coals of the fire, so he could enjoy the coolness of the night. Periodically he tossed some moss onto the coals, making smoke to help against the mosquitoes.

  Through a natural gap in the trees, he gazed at the moon reflecting perfectly on black waters. The pines stood watch over the magic pool in patient reverence. The wolves were howling again tonight, singing their most untame melodies to their mistress of the night.

  Dreibrand listened to the howling and let his thoughts drift over the land with the mournful wails. The lonely magnitude of the Wilderness descended upon him, but he felt like he belonged to this place, like the power of the land could somehow flow into his own flesh. Belonging to the Atrophane Horde did not compare to this. Here he could be his own man.

  The wolfsong cued a memory. A memory of wolves loping out of the hills onto a great battlefield, a battlefield where a dynasty had fallen. It had taken da
ys to dispose of the dead, and every night the wolves would arrive to collect their grisly tribute.

  But every soldier lived with such things and his mind moved on. Dreibrand thought of fairer things, and he thought of Miranda. He wondered how long she would be with him. He lusted for her of course, but his feelings were deepening. Sharing a path with her had been a good idea, and Dreibrand trusted her. She had not fled when the beast tackled him.

  Suddenly he noticed that the wolves sounded much closer. Focusing his attention, he realized the pack ran through the woods now, singing to the splendorous night while bounding through the silver shade. Concerned but not panicked, Dreibrand woke Miranda.

  “I think the wolves are coming near. Please sit up and watch with me,” he said.

  Miranda relinquished her deep sleep reluctantly and gently moved Elendra aside.

  Dreibrand added wood to the fire and said, “I want us to get prepared just in case. Every wolf in the country is running around tonight…and coming this way.”

  The rising flames of the campfire and the howling revived Miranda, and she took up her sword. The pack could be heard on the opposite bank of the lake now. Reaching the glistening water, the wolves paused to sing with renewed vigor. Miranda roused Elendra and tucked Esseldan into his sister’s arms. Removing her heavy silk jacket, Miranda draped it protectively around her children as a barrier against snapping jaws.

  “We are going to be fine,” she said. “But you and Esseldan have to stay right by the fire. Mama has a sword and I will protect you. Just hold tight to your brother and stay by the fire.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Elendra whispered. She had faith in her mother after the attack that morning, but she was still afraid.

  The wolfsong abruptly ended and the night waited in the foreboding silence. Dreibrand gathered the horses close. The animals were nervous and did not want him to tie them to a tree, but he could not defend them if they ran away. Freedom sweated and squealed in protest. Once the precious horses were secured, Dreibrand stepped back and drew his sword.

  Time crawled by quietly, and Miranda imagined soft paws padding through pine needle carpet and sensitive wet snouts smelling their scent. She wondered if the scent of humans was a tantalizing new odor to the wolves.

  The horses snorted and stomped, indicating the pack was indeed close by. Then Miranda saw eyes glint in the forest shadow. Long thin slits filled with the moon.

  “They are here!” she hissed to warn Dreibrand.

  Many wolves appeared on the edge of the firelight, circling the camp and eyeing potential targets. With a soundless rush they leaped into the camp and attacked the horses. Dreibrand was hard pressed to avoid the flailing hooves as he struck wolves with his sword. Yelps of pain sprang from snarling mouths as steel and hooves resisted the manacles of the food chain.

  Three wolves braved the glare of the roaring campfire and attacked Miranda. Drawing a long stick out of the fire that she had prepared for this moment, Miranda swung her sword and the flaming brand in a wide protective arc. This halted their assault, but they stayed close, snarling and looking for a fresh opportunity to pounce.

  Filled with protective maternal rage, Miranda brought the battle to them. Her sword struck dirt as a wolf narrowly dodged the blow, and another one cried out when she thrust the red-hot stick into its face. A third wolf entered the fray and sank teeth above her elbow. Terrible strength bowed Miranda’s body, and she struggled on the line between survival and death. The pain of the fangs in her flesh did not even register, and she hacked at the wolf’s body. A mortal wound opened on the side of the wolf, and it released her and staggered away.

  Miranda retreated to her children. Esseldan screamed in constant terror but Elendra trembled silently at her mother’s feet.

  A painful blow struck Miranda between her shoulder blades and she was thrown on her face. Claws tore across her back and a large white wolf landed beside her. It had apparently jumped over the fire and knocked her down from behind. Scrambling desperately, Miranda lunged between the wolf and her children as the wolf spun around.

  Still just on her knees, she leveled her sword at the tall animal’s face and felt wholly prepared to give her life defending Elendra and Esseldan. The wolf was entirely silver white and taller than the others. Black lips pulled back from great canines, but Miranda did not flinch from the intimidating grin.

  Oddly the animal did not attack and only regarded her with a piercing gaze. The wolf’s eyes began to glow with a sapphire light, and Miranda sensed something beyond the wolf’s spirit looking at her.

  The dark night, and the flashing angry fire, and the snapping wolves retreated from her perception, and she felt very far away. The demonic light in the wolf’s eyes pulled her mind over a great distance, but Miranda saw no images.

  At some point the white wolf raised its head and called to the brothers and sisters of the pack, and then simply trotted away as if it had never been interested. She saw the flowing white tail disappear into the night like the moon passing behind a cloud.

  Miranda got off the ground, expecting another attack, but no wolves came. Seeing that her children were untouched, she looked for Dreibrand. A great black wolf chomped on his sword arm, but he had a dagger in his other hand and he slit the wolf’s throat. Dreibrand gave a triumphant cry and hurled the animal from his bloody arm.

  No more wolves attacked and the forest was silent. Miranda sank down by her children and hugged them. “See we made it safe,” she murmured to her daughter, but Elendra was already calm.

  However, Esseldan bawled terribly and Miranda lifted him into her arms, where he began to relax. Dreibrand staggered toward her, clutching his bleeding wrist. His sword slid from his hand, and he clenched and unclenched his hand, examining his pain.

  “The bones were not crushed,” he announced breathlessly.

  Relieved that his wound was not critical, he looked at Miranda. The arm that cradled her son dripped blood.

  “Miranda, how bad is it?” he cried with concern.

  “I don’t know,” she mumbled, only vaguely aware of the wound.

  Dreibrand turned her toward the fire, so he could inspect her injury. Blood soaked her sleeve, and when he held back the torn fabric, he saw deep puncture wounds in her biceps. Her arm bled heavily, but Dreibrand knew the blood flow would clean the punctures better than anything else he could do.

  “Put Esseldan down and hold your hand over it,” Dreibrand instructed.

  She obeyed woodenly while Dreibrand cut the sleeves off his shirt to use as bandaging. He hastily wrapped one sleeve around his tattered wrist then started to cut the sleeve off Miranda’s wounded arm. He had to gently pry away the bloody fabric where the teeth had driven it into flesh, but Miranda did not even wince. Dreibrand worried that the mayhem of the wolf attack had sent her mind into some kind of shock. She was non-responsive and her eyes were glazed over.

  Ignoring the pain of his own injury, he quickly bound the silk sleeve over her wound, and blood oozed into the fabric. Dreibrand had helped to bandage soldiers on many occasions and his dressing applied just the right amount of pressure.

  “Hey, Miranda, you did a good job,” he complimented, trying to coax some conversation out of her.

  When she said nothing, he touched her chin and made her face him. “Miranda, come on, say something.”

  His touch revived her attention somewhat, and she blinked several times. “Are the wolves gone?” she whispered.

  “Yes. I do not know why, but they are gone,” he answered.

  Miranda put her good arm around Elendra and pulled her daughter close. She sat in silence while Dreibrand rigged a sling for her arm. Almost as soon as he was finished she crumpled into her bedroll and went back to sleep as did her children. Dreibrand assumed the stress had gotten the best of her. On occasion he had seen even old veterans overwhelmed after a battle, and he tried not to worry about her.

  In the morning Miranda woke suddenly and sat up. She gasped when she saw her
arm in a sling and felt the pain. Not until she saw the fresh black wolf skin stretched out to dry and Dreibrand cooking wolf meat in the fire, did she remember the attack.

  “Take it easy,” Dreibrand said.

  Miranda caught her breath and the disorientation faded from her eyes. Esseldan sat in Dreibrand’s lap because the boy had awoken much earlier, and Dreibrand brought him over to his mother.

  “Keep his weight on your good arm. The more you pamper that wound the quicker it will mend,” he instructed.

  Miranda accepted her infant gingerly. Her arm hurt and her clothes were splotched with blood. Elendra, who had been snuggled next to her mother, arose with a yawn, but appeared rested despite the turmoil of the night.

  “How do you feel?” Dreibrand asked.

  “It hurts a lot, but I can take it,” Miranda said.

  “Well, we are about to find out what wolf tastes like,” he said cheerfully.

  Miranda looked around and clearly saw many wolf tracks all over their camp. Tentatively she said, “Dreibrand, I don’t remember much.”

  “You were pretty stunned last night,” he explained. “But we fought them off. Those wolves must have decided to look for easier hunting.”

  “You are hurt!” Miranda cried, finally noticing his bandaged wrist.

  “I took care of it. It is not that bad,” he said.

  Miranda tried to piece together the events of the night. She remembered fighting the wolves, and they had been everywhere. She recalled that she had hurt maybe two of the animals, but many more had circled her. Then in a rush of memory the image of the white wolf jumped back into her mind, and she felt the scratches on her back where the animal had hit her.

  The eyes. The blue light! she thought. The unnatural glow in the eyes of the fearsome wolf had transfixed her, and Miranda remembered feeling the presence of another. Something very strange had happened, and she wanted to tell Dreibrand, but she did not know how to explain. Her memories were vague, and when she thought about the blue light, her mind started drifting.

  Miranda ate in silence, barely tasting her food. Only when Dreibrand moved closer did she notice the circles under his eyes.

  Realizing that she had slept most of the night while he had had no rest, she said, “Take some rest Dreibrand. I will take care of things, and we can ride in the afternoon.”

  “Well, I have been thinking about that,” he said. “Maybe we should go back to the Bosta Territory.”

  “But I thought you wanted to explore more than anything?” she responded.

  “I have seen much already. I know more about this land than any man in civilization. I can go back and start raising money for my own expedition. But most of all my conscience will not allow me to let you and your children be in this dangerous place,” Dreibrand explained.

  “We have defended ourselves. And the children have not been hurt at all,” Miranda said.

  “I did not expect you to have such a positive attitude,” Dreibrand remarked. “But you must let me help you back to civilization for your own safety.”

  “I do not remember being any safer with civilization,” Miranda grumbled bitterly. “Let us ride west just a few more days. I want to see things too. Even if we ride east the wolves will still be there.”

  Her willingness to continue surprised Dreibrand. Despite his better judgement, her proposal to ride farther west appealed to him, and he only half-heartedly argued against it. “But we have been lucky so far. It would be best to turn back.”

  “You are right. We must do that soon,” Miranda conceded. “But not today. I feel drawn to go a little farther.” She had no tangible reason behind her statement, but she meant it.

  Dreibrand could not resist her enthusiasm to go on. Despite the dangers of the Wilderness, he dreaded delivering his resignation to Lord Kwan. Delaying such uncomfortable business was easy to do.

  “Yes. We can head back after a few more days,” he decided.

  Dreibrand looked at Miranda earnestly now and considered his words carefully, not fully certain of what he wanted to say. Finally, he just spoke his mind. “But when we return to the settled country, what shall you do, Miranda? How will you get by? Do you know where you want to go?”

  Miranda frowned suspiciously at his prying questions. Truly she did not know where to go, and as for how she would get by, she had no desire to inform him.

  Dreibrand defended his inquiries. “I only ask because I care about what happens to you. I owe you my life and I take that very seriously. I will not just dump you off at the first town.”

  “I can take care of myself. There is no need to worry yourself about me,” Miranda said proudly.

  “But you need to worry. I do not really know your circumstances, but without friends or family or a home, you could easily be claimed as a slave. Your children too. You will need someone to attest to your freedom and to defend you from opportunistic slavers,” Dreibrand warned.

  “And what do you have to offer? You seemed more of a fugitive than me,” she scoffed.

  Dreibrand grinned awkwardly. “I can sort things out with my people when the time comes,” he said confidently although he doubted it would be easy. Convincing Lord Kwan to accept a retroactive resignation had its risks. The Hordemaster could choose to punish him as a deserter despite his nobility. But because Dreibrand’s censure forced him to live already in a permanent state of punishment, he decided there was no point in worrying about the risks.

  He continued, “I could take you to Phemnalang and set you up with a place to live.”

  With apprehension Miranda thought about Phemnalang. Of course she had heard about the large city in the south, famed for its wealth and wickedness, but she could not quite imagine what such a place could be like.

  Although seriously reluctant to commit to going to Phemnalang with him, she could never dismiss the practical side of her nature. It made sense to accept his offer, at least for now.

  Miranda rubbed her forehead, but her mind was not clear enough to make a decision. “I will think about it,” she said.

  Dreibrand persisted, “I think you would agree that we are friends now, and that we will both need someone we can trust more than ever when we get back to civilization.”

  “I said I would think about it,” Miranda snapped. Despite her muddled mind, she knew agreeing to let Dreibrand provide her with a home would most likely entail more than a polite thank you.

  Dreibrand backed off and stretched out to sleep. He knew he would convince her to stay with him eventually.

  11 ~ The Raven’s Dream ~

  The fairness of the lake convinced them to stay on another night and nurse their wounds. Not one wolf howl called to the moon that night, and the next morning they rode west without discussing their course.

  The mature forest began to thin and a grassy open country spread between mountains ranges. Lofty snow-capped peaks dominated the western skyline and another line of mountains filled the northeast, but these were lower and darker. The landscape was wide and beautiful, and Dreibrand liked to imagine that it all belonged to him.

  While they rode, he carried Esseldan in order to spare Miranda some stress to her injured arm. Her wound distressed him, and Dreibrand wished that he had been able to defend her better. Dreibrand secured the boy in the saddle in front of him, upright like a little rider. Esseldan, who had received no attention from his real father, thrived in Dreibrand’s strong grasp.

  For more than a week, they continued their exploration and Dreibrand had no trouble finding game. With good food and fine weather, life became a pure ideal of existence. There was no civilization to clutter the mind and the land provided generously. All would have been well except that Elendra started sleepwalking. Every night Dreibrand or Miranda caught her rising and trying to wander away. After twelve nights of this in a row, Miranda finally decided to confide in Dreibrand about the white wolf and the glowing eyes.

  Being reasonable, Dreibrand said, “The eyes of animals glow in the
night. Perhaps that is all it was.”

  Miranda wanted to agree with his simple explanation, but her mind was not as foggy as it had been right after the wolf attack, and she regarded her belief with more conviction.

  “But it was not the normal glow in an animal’s eyes. The blue light was so strong; I can almost see it now as I saw it then. Someone was looking at me,” Miranda said.

  Dreibrand asked her to explain better.

  “I cannot explain,” Miranda moaned with frustration. “But I felt it inside. Like when someone is staring at you for a long time before you notice.”

  Clearly, Miranda was disturbed, and Dreibrand reasoned stress had made her imagine things. He wanted to discount her story, but he took the time to re-evaluate the night of the wolf attack. At first he had relished their victory and kept the black wolf skin as a practical trophy, but in retrospect, he accepted that the wolves had given up quite easily, and it had been a large pack.

  “Why did you not tell me this sooner?” he wondered.

  Miranda shrugged uncomfortably. “I did not know how to explain, and I know it sounds silly. But now that Elendra is sleepwalking, I feel more certain of myself. We are not alone. The fenthakrabi was real, what if the other stories about ghosts are true—”

  Dreibrand interrupted her because she was upsetting herself. “Did Elendra see this wolf?” he asked.

  Calming down, Miranda said that she might have.

  “I will go talk to her,” Dreibrand decided.

  Elendra sat on the tangled roots of an old gnarled tree with her back to them. Swinging her legs, she hummed pleasantly and ignored Dreibrand’s approach.

  “May I speak with you, Elendra?” he asked politely, courting her favor delicately.

  She shrugged with disinterest and stared into the distance. Considering this a positive response, Dreibrand proceeded.

  “When the wolves attacked did you see a big white one?” He kneeled beside her and waited patiently for a reply.

  Elendra looked at him sideways. She had grudgingly accepted Dreibrand’s presence in her family, but her attitude did not go beyond suffering his company. Slowly she decided to answer him, hoping he would leave her alone if she did.

  “I saw it. It jumped through the fire at us,” she said.

  This corresponded with Miranda’s version of the events, which Dreibrand considered strange because the animal should have been afraid of the flames.

  “Can you tell me anything else about it?” he coaxed.

  “Blue fire came out of its eyes,” Elendra recalled without emotion.

  “Were you afraid?” he whispered.

  This question bothered her and she turned startled eyes toward Dreibrand. “No! There is no reason to be afraid,” she answered firmly.

  Her tone seemed overly defensive in Dreibrand’s opinion. “Not even a little bit afraid?” he teased.

  For a moment Elendra’s expression softened and she was just a sweet frightened six-year-old girl. She mumbled, “At first I was afraid, but then I knew I was safe.”

  “How did you know, Elendra?” he pressed carefully.

  Despite his soft approach, her hostile demeanor returned, and she stormed across the camp until her privacy was reestablished. Dreibrand walked back to Miranda, who had waited out of earshot.

  “I am surprised you got to talk to her that much,” Miranda commented.

  “In the end, few can resist my charms,” he said lightly.

  Annoyed by his joke, Miranda demanded, “What did she say?”

  “The same as you said. Perhaps you are right to worry. I cannot explain what happened, and maybe her sleepwalking is connected,” Dreibrand conceded.

  Rubbing her temple with frustration, Miranda muttered, “What could it be? This is worse than wild animals.”

  “Hey, maybe we have all been out here a little too long. Let us rest today, and tomorrow we will turn east,” Dreibrand decided but looked around wistfully at the wild land.

  There is still so much more to see, he lamented privately.

  Again, Miranda felt an urge to argue with him but she resisted it this time. She needed to return to civilization and make a new life for herself. Hiding in the forest had saved her from war, but it was time to stop hiding. She decided that in the morning she would tell Dreibrand that she would go with him to Phemnalang. He was smart and kind to her and she could do far worse.

  “Let me check your arm,” Dreibrand suggested.

  “Why? We have nothing to make a fresh bandage,” Miranda grumbled.

  “Because I want to see how it is doing,” he insisted. He did not want to alarm her but he was watching for signs of infection.

  She let him undo the sling and unwrap her arm, which had started to heal nicely. She considered Dreibrand’s concern unnecessary and suspected he fretted over her injury just to sit close to her.

  He did enjoy sitting close to her, but the clean healing of the bite pleased him the most at that moment. It was a lucky thing.

  “I want you to wear this sling a few more days,” Dreibrand instructed. When he finished tying it over her shoulder, he brushed a few wavy locks of hair behind her ear and touched her cheek tenderly.

  Miranda cringed nervously, and he could see that she did not welcome the touch.

  “You are beautiful,” he whispered, trying to excuse his action.

  Her lips trembled temptingly, and he thought her agitation suited a virgin more than a mother of two.

  Casting her eyes down, Miranda said, “If you knew me better, I am sure I would not suit you.”

  She seemed to retreat behind some shame, but it did not concern him. He knew that slaves could be ill-used, and he did not hold it against her. “I think you suit me well,” he responded.

  “You are only interested because I am the only woman out here,” she scorned.

  What could be a better reason? Dreibrand thought, but he kept that to himself. “Even in the largest city, many men would find you appealing,” he said.

  “I don’t need you to tell me that!” she snapped with disgust and got up.

  He let her go and reflected that he could have thought of something better to say. Alone now, Dreibrand checked on the wolf skin stretched out to dry. Flipping it over, he ran his hands through the black fur. Turning back tomorrow would be hard for him, but taking Miranda and the children back was the right thing to do.

  What am I doing out here with refugees anyway? he wondered for the first time. But he had no regret for his foray into the Wilderness. Every day he loved the wild land a little more, and he vowed to come back.

  It occurred to him that when he did come back, Miranda would not be with him. He meant what he had said about helping her get a place to live, but now he realized he would have to leave her in the Empire. No doubt she would want to stay once she had a home. The thought of parting ways with her bothered him, and he did not want to contemplate never seeing her again.

  Dreibrand spent the day lying around the camp. Weariness crept over him as the day passed, and he wondered at his lack of energy. Miranda avoided him all afternoon and foraged nearby for food. However, when she returned to prepare their evening meal, she did not appear angry with him anymore, which Dreibrand considered a good sign. When Miranda was upset, she generally made it plain to see, and he guessed that his touch that morning had not bothered her that much.

  After eating, Dreibrand rolled inside his bedroll, feeling unusually tired.

  “Miranda, wake me up if anything bothers you,” he said with his eyes already closed.

  “Yes, I will,” Miranda replied, but he was asleep.

  She let the fire dwindle into coals while watching the moon travel over the treetops. The children slept peacefully next to her. A serene expression blessed Elendra’s cute face, and Miranda hoped that no evil dreams would come to disturb her daughter.

  As the night deepened, Elendra continued to sleep normally, and Miranda wondered if she had been frightening herself unnecessarily. Th
e wolf attack must have stressed her daughter and caused a little sleepwalking. This explanation became more and more convincing to Miranda as she thought about it, and she smiled at herself for thinking the wolf’s eyes had been glowing with an unnatural light.

  It was only the fire in its eyes, she thought with amusement. Just as the coals are glowing blue right now.

  The blue light filled her perception, and this time it was warm and vital. Miranda felt secure, as if she snuggled in a soft bed under fragrant and fluffy covers—something she had never actually known in life. The blue light faded slowly into the black bliss of perfect rest. Then she was dreaming. She heard the swoosh of wind, and the flap of wings beating against it.

  Dreibrand became aware but did not open his eyes. The dampness of dew clung to the land, and he was reluctant to give up the warmth of his blanket and the pleasantness of sleep. He wanted his dream to come back because it involved Miranda. Fuzzily he thought that she should be waking him soon. He had the nagging sensation that it was much later than the usual hour when Miranda woke him to take his watch.

  With a terrible suspicion Dreibrand opened his eyes and was instantly mortified to see the pink glow of an emerging dawn. Sitting straight up, he saw Miranda sprawled among blankets empty of her children.

  He cried out in dismay and sprang out of his bedroll, landing at Miranda’s side. Lifting her head and taking her hand, he called her name. Her eyes opened, but they held a distant vacant look.

  Blindly she whispered, “Where am I?”

  “Miranda! It is Dreibrand.”

  She focused on his face and came back to herself. Gasping with delayed panic, Miranda saw that her children were gone. A terrible scream escaped her throat as she ripped out of Dreibrand’s grasp. She scrambled frantically over her empty blanket. Esseldan’s basket was not even present.

  “I did not hear anything. I only just woke up. I am sorry, Miranda,” Dreibrand said helplessly.

  Miranda’s eyes darted in every direction, but when she tried to recall her last memories, her mind felt unhinged.

  “I don’t remember going to sleep. Everything was fine. I was awake!” she wailed.

  Again, Miranda threw back her head and screamed, venting her agony. Tears began to flow, and her aching heart reluctantly pumped blood to flesh that no longer desired life. Her grief stricken cry faded into the land but was suddenly answered by a high sharp squeal. Miranda’s wet eyes opened and she instantly recognized Esseldan’s voice.

  Her head turned sharply in the direction of his cry, and the image of Elendra walking that way with her brother flashed into Miranda’s memory.

  My sleep was not real, Miranda thought and she dashed away to find them.

  Dreibrand scooped up his sword and ran after her.

  They ran over a rise, and on the other side, a crazy scene greeted them. The children were in the clutches of a giant bird that looked like a raven. A body of glossy black feathers towered over the small children, and inhuman eyes gleamed from the grotesque head, but it was much more than a giant bird. The body and legs, although covered with black feathers, had the shape of a man with huge wings protruding from a mighty back. Most shocking of all were the man-like arms reaching for Elendra.

  The winged monster shrieked when it saw the woman and man rushing toward it. The violent threat in that terrible call shook the whole land, and sweet songbirds cowered and did not make one note that day.

  The unwholesome sound made Elendra stumble back from the monster. She had been lugging Esseldan in his basket, but he fell from her arms, crying intensely. With the lightness of a bird, the monster hopped toward Elendra on its taloned feet.

  Miranda screamed relentlessly as she saw the thing bend over her children. She ran with perilous speed and waved her arms insanely.

  An impossible feathered arm reached briefly into the baby basket, but it apparently did nothing to the boy. Shrieking once again at Miranda’s approach, the monster seized Elendra with both arms and started to run away. Its path of departure was already chosen, and the monster spread its great wings while running.

  Miranda ran past Esseldan. She could only glance at him as she sped by because of her urgency to save Elendra. Dreibrand caught up, and in a mighty effort passed Miranda and closed on the monster.

  But the monster had studied the details of the land, and it headed into a clear area where the trees could not hinder its flight. Seeing that the monster would soon gain the air, Dreibrand gave his final effort. Raising his sword high, he leaped toward it as its feet pushed off the ground. The blade of his sword glinted once in the rising sun when it flashed beside the huge wing, but it did not reach far enough.

  Dreibrand crashed to the ground. He rolled over and saw above him Elendra held close to the feathered breast of the monster. Her face was calm.

  Miranda raced beneath the rising monster and called frantically to her daughter, but Elendra never acknowledged her. Miranda clawed futilely at the air, but the monster rapidly ascended to the sky. Screaming with abandon, she crumbled to her knees in utter defeat. The large black monster quickly became a speck in the sky, heading northwest.

  Dreibrand staggered over to Miranda. If he had not known the fenthakrabi, he never would have believed this horror. The smaller the monster became in the high sky, the more acute his failure became. Miranda sobbed in mindless grief. He dropped to one knee and put his arms around her. His tangible human closeness brought Miranda back from her blind insanity of loss.

  “She could not hear me. Magic has taken her mind and mine!” Miranda moaned. “I could not stop her. I could only be in my dream.”

  His whole life, Dreibrand had considered magic to be something that only existed in myths. Even now his rational mind examined the situation carefully. He did not want to give himself over to superstition, but an acceptance stirred inside him. An acceptance that there was much in the world that he did not understand.

  “We have to go back to Esseldan,” he said.

  Dreibrand helped Miranda up, and she stumbled beside him in a daze. The cries of Esseldan pleading through the trees roused her from her devastation. Esseldan was where he had been dropped on a bed of tiny white flowers. Miranda clutched the boy to her bosom. It was good to have one child back, but it was terrible not to have both.

  When she grabbed the baby, Dreibrand saw something drop out of his wrappings.

  “What is this?” He stooped to pick it up. The object was a crystal orb about the size of an acorn, cobalt in color with a deep inner light. Miranda stared at the stone and clutched Esseldan tighter. She had seen that blue light before.

  “Where did that come from?” she demanded fearfully.

  “It fell out of Esseldan’s clothes. That thing must have left it there,” he explained.

  Miranda choked on her sobs, while Dreibrand studied the crystal orb and tried to reason out the mystery. As a military commander, he had learned to be calm in a crisis, and his mind started analyzing everything that had happened. He guessed that the monster possessed some kind of higher intelligence because something that was purely bestial would have mauled the infant. Esseldan was unhurt, and Elendra had not been hurt either and she had willingly gone to the monster. Somehow the flying abductor had lured her away. Most of all he remembered his abnormally heavy sleep, and he knew with all certainty that Miranda would not have allowed her children to slip away. Something had prevented them from watching through the night. If that something was magic, Dreibrand did not know, but he felt inclined to use the term.

  Are all the stories about the Wilderness true? he wondered. The physical hardships of the land had not frightened him, but how could a man cope with magic?

  The light swirling inside the orb suggested more mysteries than answers. Frustrated he shook the orb at the section of sky where the flying monster had disappeared with Elendra.

  “What are you?” he hollered.

  After a fashion he received an answer. The light in the orb intensified.
<
br />   “Elendra is dead. That thing has carried her away to, to…” Miranda trailed off unable to speak the rest of her horrible thoughts.

  Dreibrand heard the profound agony in her voice and wished desperately that he could make things right. The sudden increase of light in the orb sparked a theory in his mind and he began to test it by holding the orb in various directions. He turned in a whole circle, and the light only brightened when he held it to the northwest.

  Miranda continued to mutter in her grief. “I will never see her again.” Only by accepting the worse could she cope with her loss.

  “We must follow it,” Dreibrand decided abruptly.

  “How?” Miranda wailed miserably. She searched the empty sky that had consumed her daughter. Already Elendra had to be an impossible distance away, and Miranda cried with increasing hysteria.

  Dreibrand sympathized with her grief, and felt some himself. Although Elendra had never made secret her opinion of him, he had truly tried to save the little girl, and he still would try.

  The sobbing of mother and son made an awful noise, and Dreibrand gave his attention to soothing them. Wiping the tears from Miranda’s face, he softly told her to stop crying.

  “I ca-cannot,” she stammered hopelessly.

  “You are strong. Take control of yourself,” he said. His voice had the insistence of an officer, but a genuine kindness as well.

  For the sake of her son, Miranda quieted herself so Esseldan could become calmer.

  “Look at this,” Dreibrand said, holding up the crystal orb.

  Miranda grimaced and cried vehemently, “I don’t want to look at it!”

  “You must. This is not something left by a mere beast. Look, it glows brighter when I hold it in the direction that it took Elendra. It was left so that we can follow,” he explained.

  Miranda watched him demonstrate the glow in the crystal when it was held to the northwest, but she hated to look at that strange light. She knew it was magic.

  “See, we are invited to follow. Whatever power rules in this land, they have taken Elendra to make sure that we will follow. At least that is my best guess,” he admitted.

  “It is of no use. Elendra is already so far away,” Miranda said.

  “We have to try. We both saw that Elendra was not hurt. Maybe we can save her,” Dreibrand insisted.

  Miranda could not dispute him. Of course she would try to save her daughter even if she did not believe it was possible.

  Becoming surer of his interpretation of things, Dreibrand was becoming excited to learn who was the master of the flying monster. Something of intelligence and power lived in the Wilderness, and it knew they were there.

  Miranda would cling to Dreibrand’s theory that the girl lived and they could find her. Holding her son in a tight grasp, Miranda doubted that the invitation was a friendly one.

  “Do you really think she is still alive?” Miranda asked. She just needed to hear Dreibrand say yes, and he did.

  He continued to soothe her with reasonable explanations that he could not know with any certainty. “The taking of hostages to get someone’s attention is a very common tactic. We will find Elendra, and then we will see who wants our attention.”

  Recalling the presence behind the glowing eyes of the white wolf, Miranda said, “I don’t think we want to know.”

  “But know we must. Let us waste no time,” Dreibrand responded.

  Before the sun rose much higher, they quit their camp and rode northwest through the lands left silent and stunned by the voice of the winged monster.

  12 ~ Among the Stones ~

  The forest diminished wholly into a great rolling plain as they journeyed northwest. Only sky and waving grass surrounded Dreibrand and Miranda, and the mountains loomed higher with every day. Miranda had never seen the world look so huge, and she despaired constantly, thinking about Elendra lost in this vast and desolate place.

  After a week of pursuit, Miranda began to lose faith in Dreibrand’s theory that the crystal orb would guide them to Elendra. Miranda’s chest ached from the absence of her daughter and she saw her actions as futile.

  She carried Esseldan herself now. Her arm had mended and caused her no pain, and she needed the comfort of her remaining child strapped to her back.

  Although he never voiced his concern, even Dreibrand wondered if he had chosen the right course. It had seemed so clear to him at first, but when Elendra had been abducted, his mind had been desperate. Now he privately considered that the girl had to be dead, but he could not bring himself to suggest such a thing to Miranda.

  When his doubts struck him the hardest, he would remove the crystal orb from his pocket and let the eerie glow reassure him. To his mind this crystal could not be a natural occurrence, and in his estimation their course had changed slightly. Several times each day he checked the brightness of the orb and carefully observed the point at which it gave the most light. Gradually they were being steered more to the north. The mountains were close in the west, and their course now went parallel to the snow-capped barrier.

  Even after hard days in the saddle, they seemed to only crawl across the land. Sometimes Miranda convinced Dreibrand to press on into the night and to save more time Dreibrand hunted from the saddle. Abundant game dotted the plains, and they rode through herds of antelope and elk every day, but they veered around ornery cliques of hulking buffaloes. Dreibrand always chose small game though. At some point everyday, a rabbit or prairie chicken came close enough to be shot with an arrow when they needed some meat.

  But their relentless riding began to take a toll. By the ninth day after Elendra’s disappearance, Dreibrand knew the horses needed rest. The health of their mounts could not be compromised, but he did not know how to tell Miranda that they must stop while Elendra was still lost.

  Esseldan made the announcement.

  Miranda sagged in her saddle. The sun had tanned her face, but she did not glow with health. Tossing nights riddled with stress and silent hopeless tears had left her dull and tired. Her son whimpered and cried the whole morning, squirming in the carrying sling, and by afternoon he erupted into a tantrum.

  Miranda tried transferring him into Dreibrand’s care, but the baby only howled more. Starfield shook at his bit, annoyed by the screaming passenger.

  Dreibrand halted the steed and suggested, “Perhaps the little man is telling us to rest. We are both exhausted, and the horses need a break.”

  Miranda stared at the horizon and thought about her daughter. Except for the strange crystal, they had no sign of Elendra. Miranda would keep searching, but she could not kill her son to save her daughter.

  “Yes, we can camp early,” she agreed tersely.

  Making camp placated Esseldan, and he resumed his usual pleasant behavior. Dreibrand placed the boy on the black wolf hide and entertained him with the fluffy tail. Nearby the horses grazed eagerly, and Dreibrand stretched out his stiff legs.

  But Miranda had no thoughts for rest. Atop a rise she had her sword out and practiced a form that Dreibrand had been teaching her. They had not taken time to practice with the weapons since Elendra’s abduction, and Dreibrand was surprised to see she had the energy for such things.

  Tickling the boy one last time with the tail, Dreibrand stood and went to join Miranda. He drew his sword.

  “It has been too long since your last lesson,” he remarked.

  He decided a little impromptu sparring would help him judge her progress and he attacked without further words.

  A new determination fired Miranda’s movements. Her fighting skills had improved nicely, but Dreibrand was still the teacher, and when he thought she had enjoyed enough success, he knocked the sword out of her hand.

  Her face contorted with indignation at the loss of her weapon. When she moved toward the sword in the grass, Dreibrand scooped her up with his free arm. Thrilled to hold her tight, he laughed as she struggled and smacked him harmlessly on his armor.

  “Put me down!” she o
rdered.

  “Make me,” he teased.

  Miranda did not appreciate his joke and gave him a dark ugly look. Dreibrand recognized that he had upset her too much and set her down. Moodily she stomped away and grabbed her lost weapon.

  “Miranda, I am sorry,” he apologized. “I was only playing.”

  Her expression softened, and Miranda looked down thoughtfully. She regretted becoming so mad, but being grabbed and feeling his superior strength had panicked her. Seven long years with Barlow would be slow to fade she realized.

  “No. I am sorry,” she mumbled reluctantly. “You do not deserve my temper.”

  “Do not worry about it,” he said breezily and sheathed his sword.

  Now that his weapon was put away, Miranda raised hers with a threatening gesture.

  Dreibrand smiled at her cunning and raised his hands in a mock surrender.

  “Have you had enough already?” she asked.

  “Yes. You win. I am your prisoner,” he said.

  Miranda frowned and slid her sword into the crude sheath of animal skin she had made for it.

  Putting his hands down, Dreibrand commented, “You are getting better with the sword.”

  “When we find Elendra, I intend to win her back,” she said ominously.

  “We will,” Dreibrand agreed in a whisper.

  With a kinder tone, she added, “I appreciate you keeping your promise and teaching me to use weapons. You have been good to me.”

  Dreibrand shrugged off the compliment. “I owe you my life. You were there when I needed you—twice.”

  He moved closer, and Miranda eyed him warily. Softly, he said, “Miranda, is it so bad that I want to be near you?”

  She leaned away from him slightly. He made her nervous but in a manner unfamiliar to her. Miranda was not afraid of him anymore. Dreibrand had proven himself kind and reliable, but she knew why he wanted to be near her.

  “You are near me every day,” she stated defensively, as if his question were ridiculous.

  “Exactly. And it would be so natural for a man and a woman, alone in this wild place to…” he trailed off suggestively and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. Miranda shrugged out of his hand, but then he caught her in both arms. Her body became rigid, but she did not really fight his embrace.

  Dreibrand continued, “You do not have to suffer alone. Isn’t it better when I hold you? I care about you.”

  Miranda put her hands on his chest and felt the sun-warmed metal of his armor. Shaking her head, she pushed and he reluctantly let her go. He saw the confusion in her eyes and knew that to restrain her would upset her.

  Free of him, Miranda walked over to her son and picked him up. Dreibrand had not really wanted to let her go, especially when he could glimpse an inkling of willingness in her eyes, but he did not want to scare her.

  It was hard to be patient Dreibrand realized. He had grown accustomed to female companionship when he wanted it. A soldier had to win a woman’s favor in an evening and march on the next day. He had been alone with Miranda for weeks now, and her remoteness perplexed him.

  The next morning Miranda awoke to Dreibrand sitting by her. She focused on his soft yellow beard and the sunlight glinting in his wind blown hair. His blue eyes sparkled under his serious brow, and he tickled her nose with delicate sprigs of flowers. For a brief moment, Miranda felt lighthearted and enjoyed his attention, but she could not accept the luxury of such feelings.

  “I thought these would cheer you. They smell quite nice,” he said.

  Miranda sat up and took the flowers and sniffed the fancy blossoms.

  “I wouldn’t think an Atrophane officer would pick flowers,” she teased awkwardly.

  Encouraged by her genuinely positive reaction, he took her hand. “I was rude to bother you yesterday. I know because of Elendra, you could not have any thoughts for me, so let us go quickly and find your daughter,” he said. During his watch, Dreibrand had accepted that her worry for Elendra distracted her from him, and rightly so.

  Miranda nodded, and although she was thankful for his understanding, she simply accepted his apology. Her feelings for him were confused, and she had no attention to give to sorting them out. Any thoughts for her own pleasure were crushed by the stress of losing Elendra.

  For another week they rode north and the summer sun followed them with lengthening days. The lush plain had no shortage of game, and they did not lack for food. No beasts or storms troubled them, yet they constantly maintained their guard. Both of them had become too hardened by Nature, even in summer’s bounty, to be lulled into a sense of security in the Wilderness.

  As every day slipped by without trace of Elendra, Miranda withdrew into dark brooding. She blamed herself for the abduction of Elendra, inwardly criticizing her every decision over the past several weeks.

  Dreibrand could see that she tormented herself, and he comforted her as well as he could.

  After checking their course one afternoon, he said, “I think we must be getting closer. The orb feels warm today.”

  Miranda did not look away from the ears of her horse. She seldom strained her eyes to scan the horizon anymore, and usually just stared listlessly at her horse while riding.

  “You just think it is warmer because all of this is so hopeless,” she grumbled.

  “No. I just noticed it. Here you take it,” Dreibrand suggested, offering her the crystal orb.

  As always Miranda refused to touch it.

  Placing the orb in his front pocket, Dreibrand insisted, “I tell you it feels warm today. It must mean that we are finally getting close.”

  Although she was too discouraged to really feel any hope, his opinion finally intrigued her. She stayed more attentive that day.

  The next morning was cloudy. No thunder rumbled, but they assumed a storm would start eventually. Cheerlessly they continued their trek north until midday when suddenly a dark form broke the northern horizon.

  “What is that?” Dreibrand cried.

  He and Miranda exchanged curious glances, but they were too far away to determine the exact shape or character of the object. Drawing out the crystal orb, Dreibrand could feel that it had increased in warmth again. It did not burn, but it was hot and he judged the glow to be greater as well.

  “This must be something. Come on,” he ordered and urged Starfield ahead.

  The object was a large narrow boulder sticking up out of the ground. Taller than a man, the blue rock showed no sign of design or symbol.

  They halted to examine the monolith.

  “This could be some kind of boundary marker,” Dreibrand exclaimed. He was so excited to have found something.

  Miranda did not allow herself any excitement, and thought pessimistically that it was just a boulder. She wandered over a ridge and looked northward. The land sloped down and many more standing stones covered the land for as far as she could see. Some were lone monoliths, and others were arranged in circles or scattered in no particular pattern. The sizes did not vary much, but all of the standing stones were at least as large as a man. The presence of the weighty boulders defied reason.

  The wind moaned in places where the stones stood close together, and Miranda felt a distinct foreboding. Esseldan squirmed on her back and began to cry.

  She soothed the boy and turned her horse around. Freedom gladly obeyed. She returned to Dreibrand, who still studied the first enigmatic stone.

  “There are many more boulders over that ridge. They cover the land completely,” Miranda said.

  Dreibrand snapped out of his consideration of the monolith and quickly went to investigate. The forest of standing stones upon the lonely plain made a disquieting sight. Again he hoisted the crystal orb, and the blue light was undeniably stronger. However, when he tried to check their course, the orb gave the same brightness in every direction, dimming only in the direction they had come from.

  Miranda witnessed this as she arrived alongside of him. “I do not like this place,” she announ
ced.

  “But this must be where this orb intended to lead us,” Dreibrand said.

  Miranda scanned the land. There was nothing except the creepy stones, and she was reluctant to proceed.

  “We should go back and try again. You have lost our bearing,” she decided.

  “But the orb has consistently pointed north. You have seen me check many times. Going back will only waste time,” Dreibrand argued.

  Miranda bit her lip. She definitely did not want to waste time, and going back would be counterproductive. There was nothing back there.

  “This place is frightening,” she whispered.

  Dreibrand agreed, “Yes. I can feel…I do not know.” Something impressed him on a subconscious level. Vaguely he thought of the stunned silence on a finished battlefield covered with dead.

  “We should go around this place,” Miranda suggested.

  Dreibrand looked at the multitude of stones stretching to the east and west. Despite the sudden loss of guidance from the crystal orb, he believed they needed to continue north.

  “We should continue in the same direction. The orb has led us here and we need to keep going,” he reasoned.

  Thinking of her daughter, Miranda gathered her courage. This strange place of standing stones was the only aberration in the rolling untouched landscape, and she could not ignore it because she was afraid. With the faintest tinge of hope, she wondered if Elendra might be close.

  “Yes, you are right. Going around is foolish. They are only boulders,” Miranda said.

  Silently they entered the area of monoliths. A lone vulture circled down from the overcast sky and landed atop a monolith very close to them. Dreibrand drew his sword and hacked at the bird with disgust. It flapped out of his reach and cackled at him boldly. Cold eyes without compassion glared out of its naked head.

  Once Dreibrand finished frustrating himself with the nasty bird, they hurried onward. They did not discuss the implications of the vulture’s arrival.

  Their spirits brightened when they saw the standing stones clear out up ahead.

  “See. No need to ride around,” Dreibrand said, feeling vindicated.

  Indeed, Miranda was glad that she had agreed with Dreibrand, and she looked forward to leaving the unsettling stones behind her.

  But the clean plains ahead proved to be like a shimmering mirage in the desert. Almost as soon as they saw beyond the land of stones, a heavy mist began to consume the land. The mist seemed to rise out of nothing, and it covered the land as rapidly as a cloudbank moving onto land from a large body of water. An immediate chill slapped the air, and the mist swirled higher.

  “Hurry!” Dreibrand urged, focusing on the fading grassland beyond.

  The mist soon took all visibility beyond a few paces, and they could not gallop for fear of striking a monolith in the murk.

  “Stay closer,” Dreibrand called when he looked back and only saw the dim outline of Miranda on her horse.

  “Where are you?” she cried.

  He had to let her catch up. When she entered the small sphere of visibility, Dreibrand saw the relief flood her eyes. The mist pressed close now, and they could only see the nearest blue stone monoliths lurking in the haze.

  “We must ride side by side. We must not get separated in this,” Dreibrand decided and Miranda heartily agreed.

  The cold shroud of mist obscured all sense of direction, and every time they rode around an obstacle, Dreibrand feared that their course became muddled. Before the sudden fog had blocked his view of the clear plains ahead, he had focused on the proper direction, but he no longer had any reference points.

  “We should have come out by now,” Miranda observed nervously.

  “I know,” Dreibrand admitted.

  “We are lost,” Miranda said.

  Dreibrand knew they were in trouble, but he would not accept defeat so easily. The edge of the standing stones might only be a few paces away in the seething fog.

  “This mist is more magic. No natural mist could rise so quickly and so completely. We are being trapped,” Miranda concluded.

  Dreibrand halted their slow blind progress and removed the crystal orb. It shone with a constant blue light in any direction. Bereft of guidance, he put the orb back in his pocket, and the blue glow faded from the pale mist. He had followed the crystal orb diligently, and now he wondered if he had been led to this place to die.

  Shaking off the nasty thought, he had no choice but to continue plodding in blindness.

  A leaning blue monolith leered out of the mist, and the horses snorted when they passed close to it. It was a larger stone than the others they had seen, reaching over their heads even on horseback. Many standing stones clustered near this great blue hulk, and Dreibrand worried that he had blundered deeper into the place of stones because they had become denser.

  Esseldan coughed and whimpered against Miranda’s neck. Dreibrand looked over at them with concern and regretted his eagerness to enter the stones.

  In a strained silence they tried to find the edge of the stones until the dim daylight receded.

  “Dreibrand, I have to stop,” Miranda said.

  “It will be dark soon. Let us keep going,” he pressed.

  “I know, but I have to take care of the baby while I can still see. Then we can go,” she said.

  He agreed and took a break from the saddle himself. Esseldan cried while his mother attended him, and the sobs sounded smothered by the cold mist.

  A thick soupy darkness rose from the ground as the light of the distant day retreated. They had nothing to make a fire. Fuel was scarce on the grassland, but the lank turf growing between the standing stones had nothing to offer.

  Weeks in the Wilderness had made Dreibrand and Miranda accustomed to the true dark of the night, but nothing could harden them for being lost among the stones clogged with fog. An unsettling silence oppressed the land, and no nocturnal insect sang at all.

  “We cannot make any progress in this. We will rest here,” Dreibrand decided.

  “Must we stop? I want to keep going,” Miranda insisted tiredly.

  “I would, Miranda, but in this dark we could find our way out and wander back in, before we knew we left. I don’t like it here either, but it is best to wait for light,” he reasoned.

  Out of weariness she relented. Dreibrand took out the blue orb because it was their only means of light. Normally, Miranda disliked the inexplicable glow from the crystal, but tonight in the thick dark, she found some comfort in the light. She sat down on her blanket and nestled Esseldan in her lap. Right in front of her Dreibrand settled down on his own blanket, and the horses stood abnormally close to him. Starfield occasionally muzzled the top of his head, and he patted the intrusive nose.

  “Maybe the fog will lift in the morning,” Dreibrand said.

  Miranda looked at him doubtfully. She shivered inside her jacket and tucked the wrappings around Esseldan. The night grew colder and the damp was relentless. Even her hair was wet.

  Feeling the need to be distracted by idle conversation, she said, “Tell me about Atrophane.”

  His nervous mind needed distraction as well, and her suggestion pleased him. But thoughts of his homeland came hard to him. Already that life seemed to belong to a different man.

  Dreibrand let his mind float back eastward over the many lands he had traveled and subdued. Finally he saw once again the Lasocosta Sea, whose surf played on the eastern Atrophane coast, and his heart suddenly ached to ride the waves as he had in his adolescence.

  Dreibrand shared his memories with Miranda, describing the wide delta of the Phol River that was supposed to be the hand of the Goddess Simosha, who held Atrophane’s most bountiful fields. He told her next of the Outer Coast region where he was from. Splendid pastures filled with prize stock stretched between orchards that overlooked cliffs and sandy beaches.

  Miranda had trouble picturing the great palace cities and lavish country estates he described, but she believed that they must b
e marvelous.

  Then Dreibrand told her of darker things, and she had less trouble seeing these aspects of Atrophane. He spoke of slums where criminals of every creed and philosophy plied their trades in the shadows of gorgeous palaces. He spoke of the mines in the Vartrane Mountains where many unfortunate slaves labored in grim conditions.

  “The land of my birth is forever behind me,” he concluded quietly. He cast his blue eyes down with sadness. He had not thought so much of home for a long time.

  “Dreibrand!” Miranda hissed.

  Instantly his mind snapped back to his immediate reality. The Wilderness had made his senses sharp, and he was on his feet even as the horses squealed. Miranda had seen it first and he only had to raise his eyes to notice.

  A cold white light expanded out of the black mist. Miranda stood now and pulled out her sword while clutching Esseldan fiercely to her chest. Spectral forms gathered in the light revealing the skeletal detail of humans. Horrifying fleshless bone coalesced in the glowing mist. The ghosts brandished the remembered spirits of their weapons, which had an ethereal glow. Red eyes flared in vaporous skulls, and Miranda saw the point of her sword shaking in the haunting glow.

  Three distinct ghosts formed quickly, and the swirling light promised to make more. These three glided toward Dreibrand and Miranda. One wielded a smoky warhammer and the other two held pikes.

  Dreibrand raised his sword, hoping it could fend off the spirits, but when the ghosts seemed about to attack, they shifted directions and drifted by.

  “They, they…aren’t attacking,” Miranda stammered.

  More spirits developed across the haunted land, casting crazy lights on the standing stones. A frigid wind swept around Dreibrand and Miranda’s ankles and crept up their legs, making them ache and their flesh crawl.

  “I don’t understand,” Dreibrand mumbled while watching a tall ghost with long delicate bones drift by.

  An ancient long dead army now stalked across the land. Sometimes a spirit would flare brightly or simply fade back into the dark mist. A few more ghosts gathered around the living creatures and circled close, but the specters always moved on.

  By now the horses sweated nervously, but the steeds stayed close to their masters. Sometimes Starfield or Freedom would jump with the intention of bolting when a spirit passed too close, but both horses stayed put as if they were tied down.

  Slowly, Dreibrand and Miranda lowered their swords and watched the unholy spectacle of the walking dead. Esseldan cried softly against his mother’s chest, too afraid to shriek loudly. Dreibrand put an arm around Miranda as much to steady himself as to comfort her.

  It was impossible to judge how long they stared at the multitude of ghosts. Their minds did not think of time when confronted with such an astounding mystery. Gradually, Dreibrand began to imagine the fallen army and guess that the standing stones were extraordinary grave markers. Before the mist, he had seen the stones stretching across the plains, and he calculated that the army must have been a sprawling host, greater than the Horde.

  Remembering the tales of Gods making war that he had heard in the east, Dreibrand finally made some sense of the legends.

  A mighty civilization was here. Or maybe still is, he thought. Tearing his wide eyes from the unsettling ghosts, he looked down at the crystal orb on his blanket.

  “I am going to test a theory,” he announced.

  Cautiously he approached the edge of the ghost activity, holding his sword defensively.

  “What are you doing?” Miranda cried. “Come back here!”

  Dreibrand ignored her and left the circle of safety around their camp. Ghosts glided toward him and did not change their course. A daunting spirit lord, with a translucent band of gold around his gleaming skull, flew ahead of his damned brethren and struck at Dreibrand with a misty blade. The mortal sword of Dreibrand parried the blow without effect. The spirit’s blade simply passed through the Atrophaney steel and clipped Dreibrand’s forearm.

  An icy explosion of pain crippled his arm, and he had to seize his sword with his other hand before it fell to the ground. The spirit raised the weapon for another blow, and his musty men-at-arms gathered behind him excited for the victim.

  It took all of Dreibrand’s courage to run away and not to be paralyzed with terror. He stumbled back to Miranda and the ghosts thankfully did not pursue. Dreibrand crumpled to the ground and gave into his agony for a moment, clutching his arm. Visibly shaken by his rash actions, Miranda kneeled beside him.

  “The crystal orb protects us from these spirits,” he gasped. “If you are not close to it, they attack.”

  “Let me see,” Miranda said, trying to pry his good hand away from his injury. The haunted glow from the spirits provided some light, but she saw no visible wound. She touched his stiff cold hand, and he could not contain a cry of pain. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead, and he trembled as he tried to tolerate the pain.

  In a desperate flash of reasoning, Miranda guessed that the crystal orb might help him if it was their only protection from the ghosts as he said. She scrambled to the orb, but her hand hesitated above the crystal. She was loath to touch the magical item, and the weird light swirling within reminded her vividly of the power behind the white wolf.

  Dreibrand moaned and sucked air between his clenched teeth. She grabbed the orb and pressed it into his lifeless hand. He felt an almost instant relief and relaxed.

  “That’s better,” he whispered.

  With his pain eased, Miranda scolded him. “Dreibrand, you should not take such risks. I was so scared.”

  “It was not one of my smarter ideas,” he agreed with a painful chuckle. “But now I know for certain why the ghosts did not attack us.”

  Miranda looked around fearfully. “What is this terrible place? How will we ever get out?” She did not voice her worry that little Elendra was held somewhere in the horrible realm.

  Dreibrand considered her questions rhetorical and lay in quiet pain, hoping his arm was not crippled. The pins and needles of life crept down his fingers until he could eventually grasp Miranda’s hand that held the orb against his palm. With a tortuous slowness warmth spread up his wrist and forearm, easing the pain.

  Grimly he realized he could have just been killed. As a warrior he could face his mortality, but the thought of his eternal spirit trapped among the haunted stones terrified him.

  “We will get out of here, Miranda,” he promised.

  They sat through the night with no possibility of sleep. The ghosts stalked between the stones, and the fear they inspired nearly maddened the living creatures trapped inside the seething mass of death. An immense cattle market of damned souls surrounded Dreibrand and Miranda, who endured the horror bravely.

  After a timeless torment Dreibrand rose painfully to his feet, still holding the crystal orb. “Let us get ready,” he said.

  “For what?” Miranda asked miserably.

  “It will be dawn soon,” he answered while fumbling to gather his gear. “When the sun breaks in the east, I will get my bearings and know which way is north.”

  They climbed into the saddles of their drooping mounts. The horses were exhausted by fear. With a painful slowness the ghosts gradually dissipated, and the inky dark of night returned. Dreibrand waited alertly for the dawn. With every breath he could feel the cold mist, and he knew it would obscure the dawn and dilute the sun. But in the first minutes of daybreak, he would have a chance to detect the east.

  When his chance came, he did not miss it. The vermilion glare at the day’s birth cut through the mist, and Dreibrand saw the east. He was appalled how much he had become turned around, and he guessed that his disorientation had not been natural.

  “Now!” he said, facing north and urging his tired warhorse.

  He pressed on quickly in the mist that had actually become thicker in the night. Leaning out from his saddle, he grabbed the bridle of Miranda’s horse to prevent losing her in his rush. While the sun burned clearly in the e
ast, he pushed on recklessly, trusting Starfield to avoid obstacles as best a beast could. When the land started to rise, his heart thudded with hope.

  The mist thinned ahead and he could see green grass unmarked by stones. He pushed Starfield into a feeble gallop. Both horses climbed the slope eagerly now despite their weariness, until they finally emerged above the mist. The sun bathed Dreibrand and Miranda with warmth and the clean high plains unfolded before them. On a higher hill in front of them stood another mighty monolith as a guardian over the haunted land.

  It was Miranda’s inclination to give it a wide berth, and Dreibrand would have agreed except that this monolith was of a different character. Its edges were sharper and straighter as if it might have once had a stonecutter’s attention.

  They approached it cautiously, and Miranda trailed in the rear. She kept an eye on the mist in the lower lands in case it rose to follow them.

  “I see writing!” Dreibrand gasped and jumped from his saddle.

  He stood before the blue stone and the rising sun illuminated the ancient script carved in the surface. Time had made once sharp letters smooth and round, but a lengthy paragraph still stood out from the stone. Unfortunately, Dreibrand could not read it at all.

  As if waiting for divine intervention to show him the meaning of the words, he stared at the writing.

  “Do you know what it says?” Miranda finally asked. She certainly knew she could not read it.

  Vaguely he shook his head, too overwhelmed to answer. Removing the crystal orb from his pocket, Dreibrand checked to see if it would guide him again. Like before, the orb flared brightest in a particular direction, but this time it was not north but west.

  Dreibrand looked across the plains that rose into foothills, and his eyes climbed the mountains. One deep gap between peaks appeared in the snow-capped barrier, and he wondered if it might be a pass.

  They rode a good distance away from the mist shrouded land of standing stones before turning west as the orb directed them. By noon they had to stop. They ate the last of their food, but after their ordeal neither had the energy to search for food. Spreading their bedrolls, both lay down to sleep.

  “The orb is guiding us again, and I think we shall be with whoever took Elendra soon. They probably live in the mountains,” Dreibrand said.

  Miranda heard his words and was glad that he was encouraged. “We are never going back are we?” she said.

  Dreibrand rolled across the grass to lie beside her. They had crossed too many elti not to be honest with each other. He answered, “No. I don’t think so. Miranda, I am sorry. I never thought anything like this would happen.”

  “Do not apologize. You offered to turn back and I declined. But I think then that my mind was not my own. Some kind of magic drew me farther west until Elendra was taken. I wish I could have listened to you,” Miranda sighed.

  “I should have turned back anyway,” he lamented.

  “But I did not really want to go,” Miranda recalled. “If I never see the east again, I do not care. I just want to see Elendra again.”

  13 ~ Into the City of the Rys ~

  Loose stones rolled from beneath Dreibrand’s boots, bouncing and rattling down a steep slope. The mountain sheep he stalked looked up alertly at the noise and moved to even higher ground. Dreibrand pressed himself against the rocks, trying to conceal himself from the wary sheep and also in fear of his crumbly footing.

  Dreibrand was spending the day hunting while Miranda tended her son at their camp. They had been traveling west after leaving the terrible spirits behind them, and the orb had guided them into a high pass flanked by colossal peaks. But Miranda had halted their journey because Esseldan was sick. He had not been well since their ordeal among the haunted stones.

  Today, Dreibrand hunted with a special purpose. He had been eyeing the ram of the herd, imagining his soft summer fleece as a fine gift for Miranda. Briefly he pictured her lying on the soft snowy wool, but the thought was too distracting to sustain. He had no wish to miss his footing and fall down the precarious slope.

  At this high elevation the sun blazed hotly on his bare arms, but the wind blew down from frosty heights. He stayed still until the sheep resumed their nibbling of the tenacious vegetation on the mountainside. Carefully he crept farther up the rocky slope until he reached the spine of the ridge, and he bent low using the land to conceal him.

  Higher up the ridge the ram regarded him suspiciously. This summer Dreibrand had hunted for food, not sport, and hunger had taught him a cunning patience. Slowly he continued along the ridge, sometimes stopping to rest nonchalantly as if nothing on the mountain could possibly interest him.

  The herd remained unspooked and Dreibrand eventually closed to a suitable distance. Gently he eased out one of his best remaining arrows and set it to the bow. Rising fluidly to draw his shot, he focused on the target but his peripheral vision caught an anomaly on the landscape.

  Awestruck, he stood up to his full height and gaped at the vista beyond. The sheep scrambled to unattainable perches, forgotten. The ridge Dreibrand stood on was the top of the pass, and he looked down into a valley adorned with an incredible alpine lake, and beside this, he saw buildings. A city of blue stone buildings hugged the lakeshore and on the opposite shore stood a tower. Sleek and black, the tower reflected on the lake and pointed at the city. It was a fine city, and only the great mountains could humble its architecture.

  At last he had found a civilization. The anticipation of the new adventure exhilarated him. Recklessly he ran down the slope, flying on before he could fall.

  Miranda must hear the news, he thought.