Forgotten Crown (The Two Hunters Book 1) Read online

  Many villagers were already up, doing their day’s work. As I passed, several watched me walk by, their eyes gleaming with curiosity. Who was I, to be held in such esteem by the angel? I could almost hear the unspoken question, humming in the morning air.

  I ignored them, walking to the south side of the enormous clearing where several young men and women were kneeling in the dirt, pulling plants up by the roots.

  “What are you doing?” I crouched down by the boy I'd talked to the day before. I’d learned that his name was Taloos.

  Taloos glanced at me, his brow furrowed. “I'm weeding. What else do you think I'd be doing?”

  Oh. I'd read about that in my books. Weeds were plants that didn't belong in a garden, and as I glanced around, I saw that, indeed, these sorry patches of dirt were gardens. Or were supposed to be, anyway. The plants that were left alone looked like rather dismal, small, sad things with wrinkled leaves, wilted at the edges. “What's wrong with the plants?”

  Taloos shrugged. “Nothing—yet, anyway. Plants struggle to grow, here, especially since we haven’t gotten much rain recently. Some say the soil is cursed.” He paused to wipe his brow with a dirty hand, sweat already beading on his forehead despite the early morning. “I don't believe that, though,” he said, frowning down at the earth on his fingers. “We just need to learn more. How to heal plants when they get sick. How to keep them safe from the cold, and when it gets too hot.”

  “How will you do that?” I asked, and the boy laughed.

  “I don't know,” he admitted. “I'm just gardening the way I've been taught.” He continued pulling weeds. “But if we could learn more, we would certainly have more food in the winters.”

  “May I help?” I asked. I felt a sudden urge to plunge my fingers into the soft, warm earth, and when Taloos nodded, I did so, relishing the feel of the dry, crumbly dirt. I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply. I felt . . . connected. Like maybe I could belong, somehow. Not to this village, though. After the little I had seen, it was already too small for me. But feeling the earth, the caress of the sun's heat on my back, and listening to the sigh of the trees, I felt at peace.

  Music.

  I opened my eyes. The music continued, filtering through the trees. Lilting and hypnotic, it made me want to dance.

  I smiled at Taloos. “Do you hear that? Where is it coming from, I wonder?”

  Taloos didn't smile back. “It's the Roamers. They're back.” He stood, wiping the dirt off his hands on his trousers, transferring dark smudges of earth.

  I stared, wide-eyed, as I peered into the woods around me. I couldn't pinpoint the source of the music. It seemed to be everywhere. “I've read of the Roamers,” I said. “In my books. The traveling people. They sell anything and everything that anyone could possibly want. They spend their days on the move, and fill their nights with dancing and song.”

  “Yes, they do,” Taloos admitted. He peered slant-eyed at the woods about us. “They're also notorious thieves.”

  I smiled sheepishly. “That, too.”

  Most of those who were pulling weeds stopped when they heard the music, and I noticed the villagers were beginning to move toward the village green. I grimaced when I remembered that was where they offered sacrifices to the Beast, as well. Strange, it wasn't located in the center of their town, as was typically customary for villages. It was nearer the edge, closer to the woods. As I walked to catch up with Taloos, I idly wondered if it had always been like that, or if they'd changed it to encourage the Beast to stay out of the village.

  When I reached the green, standing next to the huge fir I’d silently named the Pillar of Sacrifice, I watched the villagers gathered around several strangers. Roamers. I recognized them on sight, with their bright, outlandish clothing. The men wore loose fitting trousers tucked into their boots, with embroidered vests over their white shirts, the sleeves rolled up to expose strong, tanned arms. Most of the men also carried large wicker panniers, the straps slung over their shoulders. I realized with a pang of disappointment that they wouldn’t be able to drive their wagons on the path that led to the village, as it was too narrow.

  That meant this wasn’t their whole clan. Some would be guarding their homes.

  I tilted my head, regarding the women. Their skirts were just as bright and garish as the men’s trousers, and their white blouses were worn nearly off the shoulders. Some of the ties hung loose, exposing a fair amount of bosom. My eyes narrowed. None of the Chosen had dressed so scandalously. Well, none that I was aware of.

  One of the girls broke from the crowd, walking up to Taloos. Except ‘walking’ wasn’t the right word. She moved like a serpent, her movements slow and hypnotic, almost like she was dancing. Her soft, doe-skin boots peeked out from under the hem of her skirt and brilliant red petticoats.

  I sniffed. Almost as red as her hair. The girl’s hair was a waterfall of scarlet waves that cascaded about her shoulders. I edged closer, wanting to hear what was said.

  “Taloos.” She smiled slowly up at him.

  “Kali.” Taloos inclined his head. I couldn’t see his face, but I saw the stiffness in his shoulders. They knew each other’s name, so they had clearly met before.

  Kali laughed, her pale green eyes crinkling. “Don’t act so stiff, soldier. I just wanted to thank you for healing my little Aribella.”

  Taloos’s stance relaxed. “Oh. It was nothing. You know I like animals.”

  Kali stepped closer, the bracelets on her arms clanking. She looked up into his face, and now that I was close enough to reach out and touch Taloos’s shoulder, I saw she was a good deal shorter than I was. “Well, nothing or not, you made my pony better when no one else could. I am in your debt.”

  Taloos stumbled back in alarm, bumping into me, nearly causing me to fall. He grinned at me, embarrassed. “Oops. Sorry, Glacia. I didn’t see you, there.”

  Kali’s eyes narrowed, her smile slipping when she noticed me. “Who are you?”

  Jealous? I bit back a grin, tilting my chin up to regard her regally. “My name is Glacia.” It was an effort not to call myself ‘Glacia, daughter of the Head Crowns of the Chosen, future Crown.’

  Except I wasn’t. Not anymore.

  “And you’re a friend of Taloos?” she asked, her gaze still narrowed. She looked like a cat, ready to start spitting and scratching my face.

  “Yes,” Taloos said, the moment I said, “Actually, we just met yesterday.”

  I exchanged a look with him, feeling startled. Were we friends? I’d never had a friend before, not aside from Silvan.

  Kali arched an eyebrow. “I . . . see.” Her gaze slipped back to Taloos, dismissing me. “Taloos, we’re going to be having a gathering tonight. I hope you’ll come and participate.”

  “I can’t,” Taloos said. I frowned, puzzled at the beads of sweat I saw on his forehead. “I—I have work I have to tend to, here. I need to finish building another goat pen, and tend to the gardens.”

  Kali laughed. I’d pay gold to have a laugh like that. It was warm and heady, reminding me of the drink Nanny had given me during Solstice. “You’re not going to be working at night, turnip head.”

  She was graceful, even in the act of turning away to glance over her shoulder at Taloos, her lips curving up in a smile. “Until tonight, Taloos. You be there, or I’ll come for you.”

  She slipped away, going back to the other Roamers, who had opened their panniers, pulling out an assortment of wares. The villagers gathered about like chickens around a fistful of corn.

  “A Roamer gathering?” I said. “I want to go.”

  Taloos snorted. “It's just an excuse for them to get roaring drunk. Not that Roamers need an excuse. Plus, they say if you accept a drink from a Roamer, you'll wake up naked or dead.”

  “Who's they?” I asked. “And Kali seemed to like you a lot.”

  “They, as in everyone. And yeah.” Taloos scuffed at the dirt with the toe of his boot. “We used to be friends.”

  He paused in his talking when
a goat trotted onto the green, bleating. It was a big one, with large curving horns. It made a butting gesture at the people nearest to it, and villagers scrambled to get out of the way. “Taloos!” someone bellowed.

  Taloos grinned. “Billy Gruff,” he said. “How did you get out of your pen, silly?” He walked over to the goat, his voice soothing. The animal pawed at the ground, bobbing its head, otherwise remaining perfectly still. Taloos whispered something in its ear, and the animal swung around and trotted back the way it had come. Taloos followed.

  Holding my skirts up to my knees, I bolted after him. “How did you do that?” I asked breathlessly. “That goat just listened to you.” I didn't know much about goats, but I knew enough to know they didn't listen much to anyone. They were rather unpredictable creatures.

  “Eh, Billy's a good sort,” Taloos said. “Don't let his big size or gruff demeanor fool you. He has a heart of gold, and loves human company. That's why he left his pen; to seek us out.”

  I didn't ask Taloos how he knew that. He seemed very sure of himself, though. A memory flickered about my mind and was gone.

  Reaching the goat pen, I hurried ahead and opened the gate. It was a struggle trying to open it enough for Billy to slip through without the other goats escaping, and I wasn't sure I could have managed it without Taloos’ help.

  “Now stay there,” Taloos ordered, as if completely sure the goats would obey him.

  “You think they will?” I asked, peering over my shoulder at them as we walked away.

  “Yes. Animals always listen to me.”

  “Why aren’t they grazing?”

  “Some of them are,” Taloos said. “Thanks to your friend. But we’re alternating half of the herd on every other day. There could still be trolls around, and we need to take extra care.” He frowned. “Plus, with Roamers about, we can’t be too careful.”

  That reminded me of something. “So, where will the Roamers wagons be?” I asked, returning our subject back to our previous topic.

  Taloos stuffed his hands in his trouser pockets, looking uncomfortable. “They'll be in the forest some way away,” he replied. “They don't start drinking or dancing until sundown, so sure as fire, none of the villagers will attend, not with the Beast around.”

  The Beast made me think of Silvan, and my face heated with shame. I'd been so busy today that I'd barely thought of him. I hadn't seen him all morning. Was he safe? Had he tracked down the creature and killed it?

  As if reading my thoughts, Taloos asked, “Where's Silvan? Do you think he was successful?”

  “I don't know,” I replied. My steps slowed as I saw a man leaning against a barrel near one of the shops, sneering at me. “But if anyone can defeat this mysterious Beast, it’ll be Silvan.”

  I paused when we drew level with the strange man. “Can I help you?”

  The man chuckled darkly. He looked rather unpleasant; a thin, sallow face, and greasy blonde hair that hung in his face. I recognized him as one of the villagers. “Aye, I suppose you can, once your silver-haired friend is dead.”

  “Who are you?” I said coldly, lifting my chin up as I regarded him.

  “That’s Hertford.” Taloos elbowed me in the ribs, his voice low. “He’s a village council member. Show some respect.”

  The man was eyeing me in a way I didn’t like. “I find your council is somewhat . . . lacking, Taloos,” I responded.

  Hertford spat in the dirt near my feet. “This council that is lacking, as you say, is what’s keeping this village alive.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I think the people you sacrificed to a forest monster would beg to differ.”

  Taloos laughed, but a thread of fear was woven through it. He grabbed me by the upper arm. “She’s just tired,” he said to Hertford. “And the summer heat makes her a little addled.”

  “What? It does not,” I said, but Taloos simply nodded his head at the greasy council member and firmly walked off, hauling me along.

  “Do you have a death wish?” Taloos murmured.

  “What do you mean?” I growled. “You made me look stupid in front of that odious man.”

  “You did that yourself,” Taloos replied. “Step lightly around the council, Glacia. They decide who lives and who . . .” He trailed off.

  “Something is seriously wrong with this place, Taloos, don’t you get it?” I said, anger making my face heat. “Why don’t you all fight back? You don’t have to be picked off, one by one.”

  Taloos heaved a sigh. “People who try to leave the village don’t come back. And if the council didn’t decide, it’d be chaos. Someone has to make that choice.” His gaze shifted away from me, and he scuffed the toe of his boot in the dirt.

  “Well, I’m sorry for you,” I said. “I couldn’t live like that, letting someone else make all my decisions for me.”

  I inhaled sharply when I realized what I’d said. Because I had lived like that, for almost all my life.

  Taloos patted me on the shoulder. “I’m happy for you, then,” he said. “That sounds like a dream come true.”

  He walked off after that, calling over his shoulder. “Meet me at the village green at sundown. I will take you to the Roamers’ dance.”

  I grinned at his words. Roamers’ dance. Regardless of the wanderers’ intentions, it sounded like an unforgettable experience.

  My good feeling quickly evaporated, though, as I strolled through town. People had loved Silvan yesterday, but today, I received a lot shifty and furtive glances, if not outright glares. I found Hertford sulking in the shadows, watching me like a hungry hound. What was wrong with this village? I understood they had been afraid. With a Beast that came at night and devoured their people, one by one, how could they not?

  When I came out of my thoughts, I found myself at the edge of the forest, looking up at the dark needled boughs above me. I dropped to my knees, shoving my fingers in the soft dirt. Silvan was safe. I could just tell. I'd already seen his power, and whatever this Beast was, it could be no match for my silver-haired boy.

  Still, all the same, I wished he'd hurry back.

  26

  Silvan

  Dawn was on the edge of the horizon when I slipped silently out of Elysa’s cottage and padded down the path into the forest. The morning came as a gradual lightening of the world around me. The air was filled with the chirp of birdsong.

  I grinned, soaking up the wild. It was mornings like this that I always felt most alive. Early mornings were my favorite time of the day. It was the only time of day that meditation was even remotely possible for me. My mind felt clear and alert, my body invigorated from sleep.

  My brows scrunched in a brief frown before smoothing again. It was hard to sleep well with Glacia laying so close to me. Her presence was intoxicating and unnerving at once. Half the time I didn't know what to think when I was around her.

  When had that happened? I didn't used to feel that way around her. What had changed?

  I heard a snap, deeper in the forest, and the sound startled me out of my thoughts. I stalked forward, my senses straining for information. This forest was so different from my mountain homeland, but similar, too. It had animals, food, and plenty of danger.

  Another snap, and a rustle.

  I moved closer, stepping lightly, eyes peering into the foliage.

  A man crawled out from the bushes and stood, brushing dirt and leaves from his jerkin. He jumped when he saw me, and I recognized him immediately. “Jett. What are you doing out here?” A quick glance up at the light filtering through the trees told me it was still fairly early in the morning. I glanced at his haggard face and shadowed eyes. “Have you been out here all night?”

  “I might ask you the same thing,” he said, his expression darkening. “What are you up to, boy?”

  I arched an eyebrow, my nose wrinkling. “We already discussed this, Jett. I'm going to kill this creature for you.”

  Jett smiled sardonically. “Good luck, boy. You'll need every scrap you can get.” He leane
d into the brush and pulled out a cord of wood, bound with leather. He slung it over his back.

  I felt the tension ease from my muscles. A woodcutter. That easily explained his reason for being here. Nothing sinister.

  “This Beast,” I said. “What kind of creature is it?”

  A ripple of evil drifted across my senses, and I inhaled sharply, magic gathering in my fingertips. The same putrid presence from the night we’d come to the village. And it was close. So close, I felt I could reach out and touch it. “It’s out there,” I breathed.

  Jett stumbled away from me, uncertainty registering in his features. “How can you tell, boy?”

  “I have a name,” I said irritably. I pointed down the path that meandered back to the village. “It’s not safe out here. Tell the villagers to stay close to home, and only enter the woods if it’s absolutely vital.”

  Jett’s expression became unreadable, but he simply nodded and strode down the path that would take him home.

  A soundless snarl curled my lip when I felt the presence again. It was leaving, but it seemed to fade in all directions. I bounded into the depths of the woods, abandoning all attempts at stealth.

  The creature didn’t want to engage. Like a wisp of summer mist, the Beast was gone, almost as if it had evaporated into thin air. I skidded to a halt, and listened, but there was no sign or sound to indicate where it had gone. I glowered at nothing, feeling frustrated. Why had it fled? I chewed the inside of my cheek as I turned in a slow circle, eyeing the trees and tangled bushes and briars about me. Where was it hiding?

  The Beast clearly recognized me from a couple of nights ago, knowing who I was, even when I didn’t radiate my ability.

  “And here I was, thinking you were powerful, Beast,” I snorted.

  I flinched and goosebumps raced up my arms as I got the distinct impression that the hidden creature was listening to me. But from where? Pure hatred vibrated in the air, and I swallowed hard, breathing deeply. Loosening my arms, I took a defensive stance, preparing for whatever creature came barreling out of the woods.