CALEN HAD LOST TRACK OF how much time had passed since they left Milltown, but the sky was still as black as jet. The only light came from the pearlescent glow of the moon as it floated into the cart through the openings in the canopy.
Aeson sat on the driver's bench, steering the horses somewhere. He and Dahlen had switched over a short while after leaving Milltown.
Calen had no idea where they were going. He had tried asking a couple of times. Dahlen responded with nothing but a blank stare, then returned to cradling the large leather rucksack he had nestled on his lap. Erik said he wasn't sure, but that his father knew, and they could all rest soon.
Dann hadn't spoken since they left Milltown. Calen wasn't sure if he had even blinked. He just stared at his hands, occasionally giving his eyes a break to stare into the emptiness of the night sky out the back of the cart.
The only actual conversation Calen had was with Rist. He explained everything that had happened before he and Dann had stepped out into the courtyard. Rist let out a short gasp when Calen told him of how he had killed the soldier only moments before. He noticed Dann looking over towards him when he got to that part, but as soon as Calen met his gaze, he went back to staring at his hands again. So, he just sat there. What else was there to do? They had to stop eventually, and then they would answer his questions.
After a while, more and more trees passed by through the opening at the back of the cart. Calen knew they had reached rolling hills when the cart swayed to and fro, tipping back and forth when they hit slopes. He was about to ask where they were when he heard neighing, echoing in the empty night. It was close by, and there was more than one horse, by the sounds of it.
"We get out here. We're leaving the cart," Aeson called back. He pulled the cart to an abrupt stop, causing all of them to jerk forward slightly. Erik nodded at Calen as he heaved himself to his feet. It was a sombre nod; there was tiredness set in his eyes.
One by one, they all piled out of the cart and into the night. Calen's breath misted in front of him as he hopped down into the open fields set on
rolling hills as far as the eye could see. A light blanket of frost swept across every blade of grass, dressing them in white; rigid and crisp. It crunched under the weight of his boots. The adrenaline from earlier had worn off, and there was a slight chill setting into his bones. Calen pulled his coat tighter around himself. About twenty feet away, beside a thicket of trees, three horses were tied to a small post that appeared to have been hastily planted in the ground not too long ago. It seemed as good a time as any to ask his questions. "Why are there horses here? Why are we here?"
"Because we arranged for them to be here. We can't take the cart into the woods. We didn't expect you three boys, so there are only three. We will have to go two to a horse." Aeson walked towards the horses, not waiting for a response. Erik and Dahlen followed him without hesitation, Dahlen throwing the large satchel over his shoulder.
Rist didn't move. "Wait – what in the gods is going on here? Where are we going? Why are we even here? Calen, we should be in bed, heading back to The Glade in the morning. This is madness."
Aeson stopped and turned to face Rist. A sigh escaped his lips. There was a melancholy in his eyes. "Look, regardless of the why or how, after what happened back there, those soldiers are going to be looking for you. Going back would be stupider than coming with us. We are due to meet some friends at a small camp in the forest. Come with us, rest for the night, and then decide on a clear head in the morning. Does that sound agreeable? I won't force you. In fact, I'm happy to leave you here, but the offer stands."
"We'll go with you." Dann's voice was hoarse, croaking, as if he had just awoken from a long sleep.
Rist stared at Dann, his eyebrows raised in shock. "Dann, are you seriously—"
"Rist, we have nowhere else to go. He is right. They will be looking for us. We killed people, Rist. I killed someone. Do you think the empire is just going to let that lie? 'Carry on, young sirs. All is forgiven?' Don't be stupid, Rist."
"He's right," Calen said, sighing. "We don't have much of a choice."
Disbelief set into Rist's face. His stare flitted between Dann and Calen, searching desperately for the magic words that would change their mind. In the end, he shrugged and sighed. "Who am I riding with?"
When they were all mounted, Aeson slapped the flank of the cart horse, sending it charging off into the night, towing the cart along behind it. "That
should send them the wrong way," he said, giving his bay a brisk kick in the side.
Dann rode with Dahlen, and Rist with Aeson. Not much conversation arose from either group.
Erik broke the silence first. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
The question sat in Calen's mind, and a knot twisted in his stomach. Two years had passed since Haem's death. Had it actually been that long? The pain was as fresh as if it happened only that morning. It was like there was a hole in his chest. "I have a sister, Ella. And you?"
"It's just me and Dahlen. And Dad, of course."
"What about your mother?" There was a silence that hung in the air.
"She passed away when we were young. Consumption. It took her too fast for the healers to understand what it was."
"I'm… I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It was a long time ago." Erik cast his eyes ahead into the dark of the fast-approaching forest. There was an awkward silence as the horse trotted along. Calen didn't know what to say. What could he say? He knew what that loss felt like – it was not something words could heal.
It didn't take long before the trees swallowed them. Ölm Forest. Calen often forgot just how immensely large it was, stretching all along the western foothills of Wolfpine Ridge. It seemed to him that he simply could not get away from the place. His legs tightened around Ildarya's ribcage as the horse stumbled over a hole in the ground. Guess you don't like the darkeither, boy. Ildarya meant "Wind Rider" in the old tongue, so Erik said. Calen didn't doubt the name fit the horse; they moved at a fair pace considering they were riding double, yet Calen got the impression that Ildarya was not even close to pushing himself. The horse was a beast; its legs were thick as tree trunks, and its neck was sturdier than a bear's.
"Ölm Forest – not this damned place again. Are we really going in here after last time?" Rist posed his question aloud, but clearly meant it for Dann and Calen.
"Last time?" Erik said, turning his head slightly.
"Well, last time we were in Ölm Forest, we ran into a few problems." Ifnearly being killed by a bear, and then two Uraks could be considered "afew problems". Erik's head turned a bit more. "A few problems?"
"Well…" Calen paused for a second, wondering how much he should tell. "We had a close call with some Uraks."
Erik tugged on the reins. Ildarya came to a sudden halt, sending Calen jerking forward, slamming hard into Erik's back. "Uraks? You three fought Uraks?"
"I wouldn't say we fought them. Truth is, I don't really know how we're all still alive, but we are."
Erik nodded, turning back to face the forest. He took in a deep breath, as if about to say something, then stopped himself. He gave Ildarya a light tap in the ribs with his heel. The horse started into motion again, picking up pace a bit to catch up to the others. "You'll need to tell us that story around the fire later while we eat."
That unmistakable thickness seeped into the air again. Calen's lungs worked that little bit harder to take in each breath. As the grass fields yielded to the spongy forest floor, the horse's hooves sank a little deeper, its steps dragging a little more each time. The crickets chirped, and Calen heard the occasional flutter of wings as a bird awoke from its slumber, but otherwise, there was silence. It was a little eerie. The forest usually seemed alive, day and night, like a bustling city going about its business in complete ignorance of the world of men. There was something in the extra silence that made the hairs on the back of Calen's neck stand on end.
He saw it in Erik too. His eyes darted from tree to tree, scanning for danger. He was much more awake than he had seemed earlier. "Father, I—"
"I know," Aeson responded bluntly. He pulled one of his swords from the scabbard across his back, holding the reins with his other hand.
Calen tried to focus, although it wouldn't do him much good. It was too dark to see anything. The forest canopy blocked out what little the moonlight had allowed him to see until that point.
They must have vision like kats because—
Crack.
He heard the branch snapping as clearly as if it were right beside his ear.
He stopped trying to see what was happening and instead listened. Listened to the deafening silence.
Crack.
"Ride!" Aeson snapped his reins, kicking his horse into a gallop. Without hesitation, Erik and Dahlen followed suit. Calen tightened his grip around Erik's waist as he was nearly thrown from Ildarya's back, the horse lurching
forward into the depths of the forest at lightning speed, bounding over fallen trees and ditches.
There was a whoosh of air, almost entirely masked by the thunderous sound of hooves tearing chunks of sodden earth from the forest floor.
Something massive flew out of the darkness and crashed into a tree only five or six feet away, sending splinters of wood flying in all directions.
Shards of fragmented bark battered against Calen's raised arm as he tried to protect his eyes from being shredded.
Shouts and roars rumbled behind them, each one more ferocious, as if it were answering the last. Guttural, blood-curdling roars.
An arrow whizzed past Calen's head, a little too close for comfort. He looked up to see Dann holding Dahlen's bow, nocking another arrow. Calen thought he could see him shrug apologetically.
An Urak burst out of the bush to their right, launching itself at Calen and Erik. Its blood-red eyes were the only thing that Calen could see clearly. It was halfway to them when an arrow plunged into its neck and knocked it straight out of the air. With a monstrous scream, it hurtled into the abyss of the night.
"Uraks!" Erik roared. He snapped the reins up and down, sending Ildarya into a frenzy of speed. The horse lived up to its name. It was all Calen could do to hold on as it bolted forward with astounding force. Most horses Calen knew would struggle to match Ildarya's speed, even if they were not riding double. Vibrations shot up Calen's back as the horse's hooves pounded against the forest floor. His muscles strained as he gripped on with his legs, his arms firmly wrapped around Erik's waist.
Just as he thought that there was no way anything could match their speed, the world started to spin. He tumbled through the air, helpless as he spun, before he slammed into the trunk of a tree. He was not sure if the cracks he heard came from the brittle bark of the old oak or the bones in his back. All he felt was pain.
He slipped in and out of consciousness. Bursts of the aching pain flared at the base of his spine. It was hard to tell whether or not he was awake; his eyes closed to complete darkness and opened to more of the same.
He heard Ildarya wailing. Whatever had hit them, the horse had taken the brunt of it. It would not survive the night. His head was pounding, as if it were being struck with a hammer, over and over. Dragging strength from the pit of his stomach, Calen pulled himself to his knees. Slowly, his eyes
attuned to the darkness. As he gripped onto a vague sense of consciousness, he saw shapes.
The Urak was ripping Ildarya apart, limb from limb, as it lay wailing on the ground. The horse howled and shrieked in pain as the Uraks teeth tore into its flesh.
There was a flash of steel, followed by a spray of blood. The Urak collapsed, its head following its body to the ground. It looked like Erik had fared a bit better in the collision than he had. Within seconds, there were two more Uraks trading blows with Erik. Heavy, merciless strikes pummelled down on him like hammers pounding on folded steel. He parried, dipped, and sidestepped. The blur of motion gave Calen a renewed headache as he tried to follow it. He attempted to get to his feet, then collapsed onto his back as the strength in his legs failed him. The pain in his back seared like fire.
"Take my hand." The voice was calm and cool, with an assuring tone. It reminded Calen of Erdhardt Hammersmith. He managed to raise his head to look towards whoever it was that held that voice, half-expecting to see the village elder standing over him.
Calen's mind must have been playing tricks on him from the fall. The man in front of him was far taller than Erdhardt, taller even than the Uraks, maybe eight feet tall from head to toe. His skin shimmered a pale whitish blue in the weak moonlight. His dark hair was tied into a ponytail. Calen tried to make out his face, but it was difficult in the darkness. He was bare-chested, his body made up of thick slabs of muscle to rival any blacksmith.
He wore long dark trousers that had the same look as Therin's cloak did –
old, worn, but with a sense of timelessness, like they could neither burn in fire nor be torn by a blade.
To his surprise, Calen reached up and took the man's hand without thinking. His hand was warm to the touch. Calen was not sure why he expected otherwise; maybe it was because his pale skin looked like a thin sheet of ice. Something about the enormous man put Calen at ease.
Without warning, the man shoved Calen away with enough force to send him thumping back to the ground. He winced with pain as his back hit the forest floor.
Calen looked up towards the man. Tendrils of shimmering red light wound from his hand in both directions, wrapping and weaving themselves around each other, like vines crawling up the side of a house. The light was
so bright it was almost blinding, illuminating everything around them in a flash. As the tendrils of light weaved around each other, the form they left behind became solid. The handle and blade of a massive, double-sided axe formed in a glowing red light, the strength of which died down as it settled into its shape.
The man hefted the axe backwards and then swung it over Calen's head with almighty force. It crashed straight into the chest of a leaping Urak, lifting the beast higher into the air. The entire blade disappeared into its flesh.The man shook the body of the Urak off the axe as if it were nothing but a splinter. Whirling around, he let go of the axe, launching it through the air and into the distance. Calen watched as it sliced straight through the head of a charging Urak and buried itself in a tree behind the collapsing body. Then it was gone, faded into the darkness faster than it had appeared.
More Uraks emerged from the forest, leaping over the bodies of their fallen companions. They snarled and roared, swinging their heavy axes and charred-black swords above their heads in a frenzy.
The man stepped past Calen, roaring ferociously in return. He raised both of his arms in the air, as if pushing something imaginary towards the incoming monstrosities. Thick vines erupted from the ground below them, weaving their way through the air much like the red light had done. Except these did not form a weapon; they were the weapon.
They shot through the air faster than Calen's eyes could follow, growing thicker the farther they went. Five Uraks, five vines. Each vine found its target, piercing straight through the Uraks' torsos. The vines kept moving until each of them was buried in the trunk of a different tree, leaving the lifeless bodies suspended in mid-air. Calen's jaw hung open. He wanted to be terrified, but his head couldn't process what was happening quickly enough. The bodies dropped to the ground as the vines retreated to the undergrowth.
When Calen's thoughts came back, he felt the terror building like a ball of ice in the pit of his stomach. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck stuck out like the spines on a porcupine.
"It's okay." Erik knelt beside him, one hand on his shoulder, staring straight into his eyes. Patches of dirt and mud covered his clothes. Thin streams of blood dripped from newly earned cuts on his face and arms, but he was alive. "Asius is a friend. He is who we are here to meet."
Calen wanted to reply, but the words buried themselves in his throat. The man – or whatever he was – stared at Calen. He extended his hand, which had to be twice the size of Calen's. "I am Asius, son of Thalm. I am pleased that our paths have crossed, though I apologise for the manner in which it had to happen." Something that resembled a smile sat on his face. At least, Calen thought it was a smile. Without really intending to, Calen extended his hand in return. Asius wrapped his gargantuan fingers around Calen's forearm and pulled him to his feet with unsettling ease.
"Th… Thank you, Asius, son of Thalm. I am Calen Bryer, son of Vars Bryer. I owe you my life," Calen stammered, struggling to pull the words from his throat. He hadn't noticed his heart was racing until that moment.
"You owe me nothing, little one. All that is given will be received, as sure as day begets night."
Calen was not sure what Asius meant, but he nodded anyway. He heard the soft pad of horse hooves pressing into the moss that covered the forest floor. Aeson and Dahlen sat atop their horses, surveying the scene in front of them. Urak corpses were strewn about, Calen and Erik were bruised and a little bloody, and there was an eight-foot man with skin as pale as the thinnest paper and muscles as thick as the hardiest blacksmith. Dann and Rist sat behind them, worried looks on their faces as their eyes searched for Calen's.
"You are all okay. I was worried for a minute there. It was near impossible to count their numbers. Asius, good to see you, old friend,"
Aeson said. A warm smile spread across his face at the sight of the giant man, who nodded in return, mimicking Aeson's smile.
"It is good to see you also, Aeson Virandr. Far too many years have passed since our paths last crossed. I was excited to receive your message.
Do you have it?"
"Yes, they have. Too many to count, old friend. Too many to count. And yes, I have it." There was a pensive look in Aeson's eyes as he stared off into the distance for a few moments, seeming lost in his thoughts. "Come,"
he said, his eyes snapping back to the group as he finished swimming through his memories. "The camp must not be far if you are here, Asius."
"No more than fifteen or twenty minutes from here. Senas and Larion await us there. There is a fire to warm you and food to fill your bellies. For certain you are both tired and hungry."
It wasn't until the mention of a fire that Calen's body remembered just how cold the night was. A shiver spread through him, and he blew into his hands for warmth. His stomach rumbled at the thought of food. The look on Rist and Dann's faces told him they were much the same.
"Erik, are you and Calen okay to walk? If you are hurt, then we can trade places on the horses." There was a matter-of-fact tone in Aeson's voice.
Erik looked at Calen, who nodded with a grunt. The fire burning at the base of his spine disagreed, but it was nothing a bit of rest couldn't fix.
"Yes, Father. We can walk. It is not far."
"Good, let's be off. The quicker we move, the sooner we will have food in our bellies." Aeson gave a slight tap of his heel into his horse's ribs, urging it into a slow walk.
Erik elbowed Calen in the ribs to get his attention, a mischievous grin on his face. "Now you've fought Uraks twice."
Calen frowned. He wasn't sure how Erik was laughing after what had just happened. It took all the strength Calen had to not empty the contents of his stomach. His heart still pounded in his chest. And his mind flitted between the monstrous Uraks and the look on the soldier's face as he died, the way the light in his eyes had faded. They continued in silence.
After about fifteen minutes of walking, Calen saw the warm, orange-red glow of a fire, flickering shadows through the gaps in the trees. As they got closer, he heard voices, one male and one female, but he couldn't make out what they were saying.
The trees opened into a small clearing. A large fire burned at its centre, with a massive cast iron pot suspended over it and four large logs arranged about its perimeter.
Calen, Rist, and Dann all stopped in their tracks when they saw the owners of the voices. They were both the same height as Asius, with skin just as pale. Just as icy blue. Though, unlike Asius, they were not bare-chested. They wore matching leather jerkins, well-made, with steel toggles.
The others walked straight into the campsite without a second thought, leaving the boys standing there, gawking.
"Larion, Senas, it is fantastic to see you again!" Aeson's voice rang with sincerity. He clasped them both on the forearm, his smile extending from ear to ear.
"As it is you, Aeson Virandr," Senas replied, her voice soft and warm. It almost didn't suit her massive frame. "And who are these fine young men?
Not all your children. No, but these two are. They have your eyes." She was looking over towards Erik and Dahlen as she spoke. Calen could see a kindness in her eyes.
"You are correct, Senas, as always. These are my children, Erik and Dahlen. The other three are new companions of ours. To be honest, I haven't properly been introduced. It was Erik who brought them onto our path."
All eyes were suddenly on Calen, Dann, and Rist. A swift elbow from Dann hinted that it was Calen who would have to do the talking. "I am Calen Bryer. This is Dann Pimm and Rist Havel. We are from The Glade.
We're not quite sure how we ended up here either, but it is our pleasure to meet you."
"Well met, Calen Bryer, Dann Pimm, and Rist Havel of The Glade. It is a pleasure to share our fire with you this night. I am Senas, daughter of Iliria, and this is Larion, son of Olin. Come, all of you, sit. You must be hungry.
We have a soup here and some warm blankets."
Except for Aeson and their new companions, the conversation was non-existent while they ate. Calen was not sure he had ever seen Dann eat that fast in his life.
"Would you like some more?" Senas asked, laughing. She stood up to stir the soup in the pot with a long cast iron ladle. Calen tried not to stare. She was handsome, in a way. Her eyes were a deep green that stood stark against her pale whitish-blue skin, and her silvery-blonde hair was tied up at the back of her head. All three of them – Asius, Senas and Larion – were like nothing Calen had ever seen before.
"Yes, please. It is delicious," Dann said. He joined her by the pot, holding his bowl out to be filled. He looked like a small child next to her.
"So, Aeson, tell us of your journey so far, and of Milltown. Were you successful?"
Calen had not heard Larion speak until then. His voice was deep and measured, as if he pondered each syllable with the utmost of care. Aeson gave a quick sideways glance towards Calen, Rist, and Dann before answering the question. "Yes, my friend. We were successful."
Aeson gestured towards Dahlen, who reluctantly handed over the large satchel he had been cradling for most of the night. Larion took it into his hands with the caution of a mother handling a newborn babe. His eyes lit up when he peeled back the opening and gazed upon whatever was inside.
"It was truly quite amazing," Aeson said, a glimmer of excitement on his face. "We waited for three days and three nights and almost froze to death in that icy wasteland, but then, on the fourth day, just as we had given up hope, they returned. The journey back was a bit choppy. We ran into some issues with the empire, but we managed to get away, by the luck of the gods. We arrived at the dock in Milltown yesterday afternoon, though not without complications."
"I see. And have any of you heard it?" Asius asked, his head stooping down.
Aeson shook his head, letting a sigh escape. They spent the next while discussing the events in Milltown; the soldiers approaching them, and the fighting, right up until Asius had found them in the woods. More questions floated through Calen's mind than he knew what to do with, or how to approach. Where did he start?
"Asius, do you mind if I ask… what are you?" Rist had been quiet, but Calen recognised the look on his face. He had been chewing on that question for a while now. A deep laugh emanated from both Asius and Senas. Larion just frowned for a moment, then peered back inside the satchel, running his hand along the outside with what seemed like affection.
"Well, little one," Asius said when the laughter subsided, "your kind have always called us giants. But to our own, we are Jotnar. Do not think us rude for laughing. It is a laugh of joy. It has been a long time since we have met new friends. Sometimes we forget that you have never seen one of our kind before. The world is not as we once knew it." There was a quiet reflection in Asius's eyes.
Giants. The word echoed in Calen's head. From every story he was told as a child, the giants were hunted and killed to the last by the empire. They were shrouded in such mystery for so long that he had never considered them more than legend, old wives' tales. Yet here they were, right in front of him. He had always imagined that they would be… different? Some bards and storytellers, like Therin, told stories of how the giants were great city builders, shipwrights and scholars. But most painted them as savages; ten-foot-tall monsters with gnarled teeth and a vicious bloodlust – more similar to Uraks.
"I thought the giants were gone. They have not been seen in centuries.
Where have you been?" Calen couldn't help but throw Rist a dirty look.
Rist never cared much for sensitivity when his curiosity was involved. And
the more of his questions were answered, the greater his curiosity became.
It seemed counterintuitive to Calen. Surely an answer should sate your curiosity, not stoke it?
Asius noticed Calen's glare. "No, no, it is okay. The questions are natural. We have had long enough to ponder the answers. There are few of us left – not that there were ever many of us at all. We Jotnar are not like you humans. There are a lot less of us than you, but we live a lot longer. It is true—" Asius paused for a moment, clasping Senas's hand. He cast an eye towards Larion, who had a melancholy look on his face. "Fane and his armies hunted our kind to near extinction. We were a strong and proud people, but even we could not withstand the force that was thrown at us.
Many of our closest friends and family are now part of the earth once more.
As we were, so we will always be."
"As we were, so we will always be," Senas and Larion repeated in a hushed whisper.
"However, there were a few of us who survived by hiding and seeking aid from old friends." Asius smiled faintly towards Aeson. "In truth, I do not know how many of us are left. We stay in small groups and do not communicate often – it would be too dangerous to do so. But with luck and hope, that will not always be the way. When the time comes, the others will answer the call."
"I see," Rist replied, deep in thought. "Why risk showing yourselves to us? We could tell everyone we met."
Calen had to suppress the urge to curse. These were creatures of legend.
It was not right to question them so.
"In truth, little one, nobody would believe you." Asius's smile was mirthless.
There was silence for a long moment. "May I ask you one more question?"
Asius nodded. "Of course, little one. If we do not ask, then we will never know."
That seemed to encourage Rist. The village elders usually shut down his curiosity without a second thought. "Curiosity killed the kat," Calen heard Verna Gritten's voice echo in his head.
"Earlier, when you saved Calen and Erik, was that magic?" Rist leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glittering in the firelight.
Aeson raised a questioning eyebrow towards Asius, who waved him away.
"Yes, little one. That is what you know as magic. Although, we refer to it as the Spark." Asius's eyes lingered on Rist, a knowing smile on his face.
"You—"
"The axe?" Calen threw his hand over his mouth. He wanted the ground to swallow him whole. He had not meant to say that out loud. He was as bad as Rist.
Asius turned to him, still smiling. "Your curiosity is warming, little one.
Most humans shun what they do not understand. What you refer to is a nithrál. In the common tongue, it would be 'Soulblade'. It is a powerful weapon, created through the threads of the Spark, unique to whoever summons it. It takes many years of focus and learning before one can summon their Soulblade. It is an ability that most never achieve."
Soulblade. Images of the giant – Jotnar – swinging the axe of glowing red light flashed through Calen's mind. He felt the power radiating from it as it sliced through the Uraks chest. It was a weapon, the likes of which he had never seen. How could any man stand against such a thing?
As the night grew older, Rist's questions seemingly had no end, and neither did Asius's enthusiasm for answering them. Dann, Erik, and Dahlen slipped into the world of dreams, lying unconscious around the fire. Larion and Aeson had their own conversation, mostly in hushed whispers. Calen couldn't make out anything they were saying, but it all seemed to centre around whatever was in the satchel that Larion cradled.
Calen wanted to know the answers to Rist's questions. They were questions he himself wanted to ask. Though, the one question that subdued all others in his mind, was the subject of Aeson and Larion's conversation –
what was in that satchel. What was it that the empire soldiers wanted to find so desperately? Or more importantly, what was it that Calen had killed a man for. He shivered at the thought of it. He had taken a man's life, and he didn't even know why. I need to know why.
Calen shuffled closer to Aeson and Larion, careful not to make too much noise as he inched himself along the ground. He leaned his head over as subtly as he could, straining to make out what Aeson and Larion were saying.
"It is incredible," said Larion in a hushed whisper, "The Valacian—"
All of a sudden, the voices were gone. He could hear the crackling of the fire, and the waft of the nights breeze as it drifted through the trees, but not Aeson and Larion's voices. Calen turned his head to see if they were still talking, and he nearly leapt out of his skin when his eyes locked with Aeson's. Calen spun his head back around so fast he made himself a little dizzy. Shit. He didn't dare look back to see if Aeson was still watching him. He wanted to keep trying, but the voices remained gone. He couldn't even make out the tail end of a whisper.
He felt his eyelids grow heavy as the fire radiated warmth. It had been a long day, and a long night. How long had it been since he had slept? He let himself slide down onto the ground, resting his head against the log behind him, the heat from the fire warming his bones. He felt sleep taking over.
Draleid n'aldryr.
N'aldryr. Draleid.
Draleid.
Draleid.
Calen jumped awake, clasping his hand to his chest. His heart beat with such ferocity, he thought it was trying to escape his body. He used his other hand to wipe the forming droplets of sweat from his brow. He tried to slow his breathing, letting his lungs fill with air, holding and then releasing slowly. His thoughts were a whirlwind. The voice felt so real.
He looked around the camp, his pounding heartbeat returning to something resembling normality. The fire smouldered away, crackling every few seconds. Plumes of ember and dust shot up into the air as bits of wood gave way and collapsed. But the fire wasn't giving off enough heat to explain why Calen's skin was so warm; it felt like it could catch fire.
It was hard to see in fading firelight, but it looked like most of the group were asleep. Senas and Asius were awake. It was impossible to mistake their huge frames, even in the darkness of the forest. They spoke in hushed voices as they sat in front of the fire. Senas's head rested on Asius's shoulder. Her eyes were closed, but Calen could see her lips moving.
Another hulking silhouette was splayed out on the ground, with its head resting against one of the wooden logs, only a few feet from the two giants.
Larion's chest rose and fell with a slow, steady rhythm, the satchel he had been holding earlier still wrapped in his arms.
Draleid.
A whisper echoed in the back of Calen's mind, a shadow from his dream.
He shook his head, rubbing his palms into his eyes in an attempt to shake off the grogginess. A low grumbling snore let him know that Dann was most definitely asleep.
Something kept drawing Calen's eyes to the satchel in Larion's arms. As his eyes adjusted to the dark night, everything became a little clearer. The satchel was made of thick leather, with extra stitching along the seams and strong iron buckles at the top. He felt something emanating from within.
Something pulled his eyes towards it.
Draleid n'aldryr.
The words echoed in his head over and over. A fog filled his mind. The forest and the camp faded from view, swallowed by the fog. All he could see was the satchel and a dim glow pulsing from within.
Draleid n'aldryr.
"Draleid n'aldryr," Calen whispered, repeating the words out loud.
"What did you say?"
The fog vanished in a snap. Everything was back to normal, with the camp washed in a yellowy-orange glow from the fire.
Aeson was perched on the log that Calen's head had been resting on. He had a notebook on one knee, a pen in hand, and a small inkpot on his other knee. He stared down at Calen, his eyes un-blinking.
"I… uh, have you been there the whole time?" Calen stuttered.
Aeson nodded. "For a while now. Just making a few notes before we journey to Camylin. What was that you said a minute ago, when you were half-asleep?" His eyes did not move from Calen.
Calen felt a lump in his throat when he tried to speak. "I don't know. Just something from a dream I was having. Camylin? Is that where you are heading next?"
"Yes." Aeson narrowed his eyes, holding his gaze on Calen for an uncomfortable moment, as though he were going to probe further into Calen's dream. But he didn't. He folded his notebook over and closed the lid on his inkwell, clicking the latch into place. "Asius has given us what we came for, and now we must set off for Camylin in the morning. With the fresh horses Asius has arranged, we can be there in a few days if we ride hard."
Calen nodded. It took him a second to understand what Aeson had said.
"Wait, what do you mean? We are not going with you to Camylin. We need to go home. I've already left my father's horse and wagon in Milltown.
That's going to be impossible to explain as it is."
Aeson's expression did not change. He placed his pen into a small wooden box, the inside of which was lined with a soft purple material. "I thought we agreed that you going back was not a good idea. Those soldiers are going to come looking for you, and The Glade is the first place they will look. Surely, somebody in Milltown knows you well enough to inform them of where you are from. Friend or not, Calen, money talks."
"We agreed that we would decide in the morning." Panic set into Calen's head. "If they're going to The Glade, then we need to go back. What if they hurt my family because of what I did?" He couldn't bear the idea that those soldiers might do something to his parents or Ella because of what he had done. He didn't mean to kill that soldier.
Aeson rested his hand on Calen's shoulder. "Get some rest, sleep on it.
We can talk in the morning. There are not many hours of darkness left either way. We can work out a plan in the morning once we've all had some sleep."
Calen gave a half-nod. "Yeah, I suppose that makes sense. I am pretty tired. We can decide in the morning." A yawn escaped his throat.
"Good," Aeson said, lifting himself to his feet. "If you're not awake by first light, I will wake you and your friends." He gave a thin smile, then walked over to where his blankets were laid out.
As soon as Calen was sure that everyone was asleep, he tiptoed over to where Rist and Dann were sleeping. He moved as quietly as he could, careful not to step on any branches or brittle leaves. "Rist, Dann, wake up,"
he whispered. "We need to go. Now."
The embers of the fire popped and crackled. Aeson stared into its heart, running his hands over and back across each other. He wasn't cold, but he had decisions to make. The boy was stronger willed than he had given him credit for.
"You know they are on their way back to The Glade?"
Aeson didn't lift his head from the fire. "I was wondering when we might see you, Therin."
The elf stepped out of the darkness and into the dim light of the crumbling fire. He drew back the hood of his greenish-brown cloak. Aeson winced as Therin's silver hair coruscated in the burning light. Therin stood on the opposite side of the fire, pretending to warm his hands.
"I know." Aeson sighed. "They waited until they thought I was asleep and took three of the horses."
Therin tossed a twig he had been fiddling with into the flames, then made his way around the fire until he stood in front of Aeson. "And you let them go. Why?" His tone was not judgemental – that was not Therin's way – but there was more than a hint of irritation in it.
"I hold the same question," Asius said. Aeson hadn't noticed the giant approach. "It is good to see you, Therin Eiltris, son of Alwin Eiltris."
"As it is you, Asius, son of Thalm. It has been too long."
Aeson lifted his gaze from the fire. "I believe it is time that we signal the others. I can arrange for some hawks to be sent from Camylin. Asius, I'm sorry to say this, but how soon can you, Senas, and Larion leave?"
Therin raised an eyebrow at the question.
Asius tilted his head to the side, his eyes narrowing in curiosity. "We can be on the move within the hour, but why? After so long, why now?"
Aeson huffed loudly, lifting his head to meet Asius's curious gaze.
"Because, old friend, I think we have found our Draleid."