Shadeborn: A Book of Underrealm (8 page)

“I heard him sing,” said Chet. “But I do not have his gift. There were only a few in our village who knew many songs and had the voices to carry them. They guarded the secret with envy. Mayhap they enjoyed the attention when our village would dance.”

Loren laughed out loud, and the others looked at her startled. “I am sorry. But do you remember when Miss Aisley grew drunk on wine and forgot the words to her song?”

Chet’s crooked teeth flashed with a smile. “And she had set her cap for Rickard, but she was so befuddled she seized Bracken instead, and gave him a kiss deep enough that the old man nearly fainted.”
 

Loren doubled over. By now, the children had caught their humor and chuckled along. She even saw the wizard smirk. “Rickard would not speak to her for months, and Bracken kept hanging about her house day after day, staying a full week longer than normal.”

Their deep belly laughs rang in the forest and echoed through the trees. Loren had almost forgotten what it was to laugh, certainly at a memory from home. Such precious few were pleasant.

Chet fixed her with a look, and it was as though he could read her thoughts. “You see? Not all memories of home are dark. I am happy we will visit again. Perhaps seeing our village again, without those who made it so terrible, will change your mind.”

Loren thought she heard the words he did not say:
and change your mind about our journey, and where we shall turn our steps.
 

She frowned; Loren did not wish to keep arguing the point, least of all in front of the others.

“I wish I could see Bracken again,” she said, as a way of changing the subject. “When last he came, I was still a little girl. I wonder what he would think of me now, chasing the tales of Mennet he once spun in my head.”

“Mennet!” cried Gem. “I heard many stories of him. He was my favorite. The other boys in Cabrus always said I looked just like him.”

“Mennet? Never!” said Loren, annoyed. “He took from evil kings who taxed their subjects too highly, kinslayers and murderers all. Mennet made right what others had set wrong.”

Annis looked at Gem, disgruntled, but the boy only shrugged. She looked to Xain, but the wizard shook his head. “I care little for children’s tales of a thief who likely never lived. Everyone has heard of Mennet, but the wise know he is nothing but legend.”

Loren glared daggers at Xain. Chet said, “Still, such tales have their worth. Only I never loved them as Loren did. I preferred the stories of kings and warriors, brave knights and cunning constables who felled those who broke the King’s law.”

“Mayhap one day you will hunt me, then,” said Loren with a smile. “For I am no friend to constables.”

“Why do you think I left the village in the first place?” Chet feigned an evil smile and turned his hands into claws.
 

Loren shoved his shoulder so hard that he collapsed to the grass.

They slept that night in far better spirits than the previous day, and Loren insisted on taking first watch so the wizard could sleep. She did not know if he ever found slumber and more than once saw his eyes glittering in the fire’s light. But she woke Chet just as the moons set, then fell into a deep slumber that lasted until after dawn’s earliest light.
 

The mood plummeted the very next day. They’d not been long on the road when the land rose sharply across their path, forming a range of hills just shy of proper mountains. But there was a clear path up, so they found its base and then Loren and Chet led them in the ascent.

They were halfway up the rise when Loren chanced to look out at the land they had crossed. And there, some leagues away, she caught a flash of movement that did not resemble a bird or a bear. She called them to a halt and stood stock still, looking.

“What is it?” Gem barked from his saddle.
 

Loren hushed him with a sharp wave and kept staring.

Chet came to her side and spoke softly. “Did you see someone?”

“Mayhap,” she mumbled. “Somewhat south of our course, and—there!”

She saw it again: several shapes moving under the trees. Even from this distance, she recognized riders on horseback.

“I see them,” said Chet. “They are many. Mayhap a dozen.”

“A dozen what?” growled Xain.

“Riders,” said Loren. “Some leagues behind us but traveling in the same direction.”

All were silent. Then, halfheartedly, Annis said, “We do not know they are Shades. They could be simple travelers, like us. Surely, some people must travel through the Birchwood because they do not like the roads or because it is more pleasant than the lands beyond.”

“We are hardly simple travelers,” said Loren. “But mayhap you are right. We know not that we are pursued.”

Xain said, “After the luck we have seen upon our road, do any of you truly doubt it?”
 

No one answered, but they held the path. And now, their steps came quicker.

ten

Soon enough, they crested the rise and stopped to look west, peering through treetops to the forest below. But they saw no sign of their pursuers, if indeed they were pursued. They rode quickly down the other side of the ridge, and with many a backward glance toward the top.

The Birchwood rose about them as they neared the bottom. No one spoke nor sang as they rode. When Loren’s gaze met one of the others, she saw a hunted look that surely matched her own.

Often they looked behind them, and after two hours of riding Chet reined his horse to a halt. Loren turned to follow his gaze. At the top of the rise, they saw figures on horseback silhouetted against the sky. She could catch no colors in their clothing, but they might be Shades who meant to move with secrecy. Xain looked at her solemnly, and she could tell he must be thinking the same thing.

“They are making better time than we are,” said Chet. “We should ride harder.”

They spurred their horses to a trot that kept the pace through their day. Deep in the forest’s heart, it was impossible to see far in any direction, particularly behind, when turning from the path could lead the horse into a root or a tree. Loren thought she felt eyes behind them, watching their progress, though she knew that had to be her imagination.

As the sun neared the ridge far behind them, Loren searched for a stream. Fortunately, they were plenty in the Birchwood, and she soon found one to suit her purpose—shallow enough for the horses to walk in yet deep enough that hoofprints on the bed could not be seen from above. Chet saw her aim immediately and led them north in the middle of the stream, water foaming white around their mounts’ hocks.

“Ugh!” said Gem as a splash of water soaked his ill-shod feet. “This water is cold.”

“Mayhap, but it will keep us safe,” said Loren. “They cannot track us in the water.”

“How long must we ride it?” said Gem. “I do not wish to sleep in a soaking bedroll nor have wet clothes clinging to my skin.”

“And I do not wish to sleep with Shades lurking in the forest about us,” said Annis. “We shall ride as long as Loren and Chet tell us to.”

Loren looked at her gratefully, and Annis smiled. The girl was clearly frightened, but her hands were steady on the reins, and her mouth was set in a grim, determined line. Loren had not forgotten the girl’s face in the Greatrocks when she told her mother to leave them forever. A spoiled merchant’s daughter she might be, but there was fire inside her.

Soon, the soft loam of forest floor turned to hard and rocky dirt. Light was fading fast from the sky. “A cave,” said Loren. “For the horses.”

Chet nodded and led them out of the water. They looked around, searching for a place to hide their mounts. They found a cleft in the earth, wide and tall enough to ride inside, and deep. They hobbled the horses, left them with feed, and dragged branches to block them in.

“Now back to the river,” said Loren. “Quickly, all of you. Chet and I will follow.”

“Why are you not walking with us?” said Gem.

“Enough questions, boy.” Xain gripped Gem’s shoulder and pulled him along. “Do as she says.”

Chet fetched the hatchet from his saddle and cut two wide branches from nearby trees. Limbs in hand, he and Loren retraced their steps to the river. Wherever the sparse grass had been disturbed, they used the branches to brush it back straight. With their boots, they smoothed any soft spots in the forest floor where hooves had left a mark, until they found themselves back at the river, all marks of their trail removed.

“Now cross it, and strike out in the other direction,” said Loren. “Hurry! It will be dark soon.”

“It is dark enough for me now.” But Gem had suffered enough rebukes for one day, it seemed, and he followed Xain without further comment.

They plunged into the forest, Loren letting Chet lead the way while she took the rear. He knew her mind without having to hear it and led them to a rise in the earth that could be seen not far away. They came to its base, and Loren took them up the rise while Chet remained at the bottom to build a fire.

“Why are we climbing if we mean to camp at the bottom?” asked Annis.

“We do not mean to camp at the bottom,” said Loren. “We mean only to build a camp there.”
 

“We have left a trail to it,” Xain said, his eyes flickered with understanding. “If we are being followed, they will come to the fire. But from atop the rise, we can see them without being seen ourselves.”

“Very clever,” said Gem. “I only wish it did not mean we must sleep without a fire.”

“If we are right in our suspicions, it will be many days yet before we can light a nighttime fire,” said Loren. “Now quickly, let us find trees where we may sleep.”

“Trees?” said Gem. “What are we, owls?”

“Leave
off,
Gem,” said Annis.

Chet soon had a small campfire blazing, and abandoned it to crest the rise and join them. Together, he and Loren found trees with wide branches hidden from the ground, and in them built small platforms from branches cut with the hatchet. Soon, they had places for the children and Xain to lay their heads. For themselves, they found two thick branches side by side, Loren to the left and Chet to her right. They had spent many nights in trees and needed no more support for themselves.

Together they lay, arms dangling a few feet apart, peering out into the darkness toward the fire. Though a fair distance away, their abandoned camp glowed like the sun in the pitch-black night. All was silent save for the sounds of Gem and Xain rustling about, uncomfortable in their makeshift beds.

“Do you still think this course is wise?” Chet whispered. “If they have caught up to us so early, what makes you think we can evade them until we reach our village, or the Great Bay beyond?”

“If they have tracked us this far, why do you think we should evade them if we were to change our course now?”
 

“Perhaps,” Chet sighed. “But then again, if they see we have turned aside, they may guess that we no longer mean to warn the Mystics, and mayhap leave us be.”

Loren thought of Trisken’s cruel smile—the same brutality she had seen darkening Rogan’s eyes in Northwood. “You do not know them. They are not the sort to leave matters be, nor show mercy.”

“Mayhap this is all needless worry, and the riders behind us are not even following our course. But if you are right, and we are pursued, then what do you mean to do?”

“Find some way to evade them, I suppose. I have not had time to think that far ahead.”

“Well, mayhap it will be needless . . ." Chet thrust a finger ahead and whispered, “Look.”

Loren tensed, expecting to see figures approaching the fire. But Chet was pointing instead at the moons, which had crested the horizon to spill silver light across the trees. Below them, thousands of fingers swayed in the night’s gentle breezes. Far away, they heard the songs of whippoorwills and owls, prey and predator in a nighttime chorus. Loren vented a long breath and for a moment felt the day’s tension leave her. She looked back to the moons. Merida, the smaller, was especially bright, while Enalyn was shy behind her sister.

“Merida leads the way tonight, her lantern searching the Birchwood for her mother and father,” Chet said quietly, still staring at the moons.

“Enalyn follows cautiously, urging her sister back home to await their return.”