Forgotten Crown (The Two Hunters Book 1) Page 14

  Silvan’s fingers squeezed mine briefly. “I’m glad,” he said.

  “Do you?” I asked, regretting my question when Silvan’s body stiffened. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I know you’re still . . . I’m sorry.” Of course, he was still grieving.

  “I love the outdoors,” he said quietly. “I’ll always feel at home with the stars overhead, and grass underfoot.”

  “How did hunting go for you today?” I asked, eager to change subjects.

  “No luck,” Silvan replied. “But I sensed it again. It’s keeping close, that is for sure. I hope I’ll be able to scare it off, at least, but I’m not too optimistic of that. This village has, from the sound of it, been a decent source of food for this Beast, so I don’t think it will leave. Not for very long, anyway.”

  Sighing, he lay down, resting his back on the soft mossy bank, lacing his fingers behind his head, looking up at the forest’s ceiling.

  “What kind of monster do you think it is?” I asked.

  Silvan shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know. I haven’t actually seen it yet.” He paused for a moment, before continuing. “But something about it seems familiar.”

  “Speaking of monsters,” I grumbled, “I saw Jett today. He said you wouldn’t be able to hunt the creature down.”

  “I want you to stay away from him,” Silvan said. He turned to look at me, face pale and shadowed in the moonlight. “I don’t trust him.”

  “That makes two of us.” I settled down next to Silvan, a small part of me dying inside when he shifted so we weren’t touching. “I don’t understand why the village doesn’t resist. What’s wrong with them?”

  “I don’t know,” Silvan replied, his voice thoughtful. “It’s strange. I don’t understand why they don’t fight back. Do they not see that they’re all going to die, anyway, if they don’t resist?”

  “They don’t know how,” I said. “Maybe they don’t know what freedom feels like.”

  I hadn’t, before now. I had lived with the Chosen, following orders without a second thought. I could never go back to such a life. I’d die, first.

  Silvan nodded. “Me, too.” He sat up, stretching his arms high above his head and then stood with a sigh. “I guess I’ll have to help them see it. I suppose ridding them of this Beast will help. But I want to talk to some of the other village council members. I want to help them come up with a method of defense for their village. I won’t be here to protect them forever.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said. I copied Silvan and rose to my feet, and together we walked the short distance that would take us to the village.

  “They haven’t posted guards.” Silvan snorted. “Useless.”

  I didn’t respond, eyeing the nearby houses. The village looked different in the dark. The houses looked like dull gray lumps, materializing out of the blackness as we approached them. I liked Taloos and the goats, but I didn’t think I’d like to live here. It was better than the Halls of the Chosen, but it still felt stifling and confining. I thought of the Roamers and their horse-drawn wagons. What would it be like, being a Roamer, following the road wherever it took you? I felt curious, and I thought I’d like to try the Roamer life, at least for a while. I thought of Kali, and my gut soured. Maybe not with her group. A different Roamer family, one that didn’t house a curvy girl with red hair and brilliant green eyes.

  When we reached Elysa’s house, we found that she’d left the door unlatched for us, which showed how much trust she’d put in us. I was glad she’d come to feel so safe around Silvan.

  Silvan stoked the fire in the hearth, while I unfolded the thin blankets Elysa had lent us, and lay them down.

  “Get some sleep,” Silvan said, his voice barely above a whisper so he wouldn’t wake the slumbering mother and daughter in the adjacent room. “I’m going to guard the village until dawn.”

  I nodded, banishing the disappointment that wrenched my gut. “All right.”

  I hated that he was gone so much. I wanted to help these people, this village, but I hated being separated. I rolled my eyes at the thought. A stupid, selfish thought. After all, Silvan and I had spent hours apart from each other on the other side of the sea; did I expect that somehow that would now be different? Silvan had moral duties and obligations to help those who needed it. He was an Elite, and I needed to remember that.

  My thoughts drifted to the fortune teller, and her warnings. I frowned in the dark. Foolish woman.

  I felt asleep alone that night, my mind thick with memories of dancing, music, swirling silks and colors, and the silver-haired boy who’d cradled me close. I’d never forget tonight.

  29

  Silvan

  The following morning was gray, with the smell of rain in the air. It was a good day for finding out secrets. I walked through the village, nodding in greeting to the villagers I passed.

  It was a fairly large village. From my estimation, five hundred people or so lived here. The Beast would probably lurk around for a long time, unless I could get to the bottom of this.

  I had to ask a few directions, but I finally found the plain, unadorned building that was supposed to be the town hall, where the council members met.

  No one was there, but I hadn't expected them to. There was a large bell hanging under the porch awning. Tugging the rope hard, a loud mournful note rang out, hanging in the air like the thick, summer heat. When it faded away, I pulled on the rope again.

  A couple of minutes later, a man with greasy blond hair slunk around the corner. He blinked, clearly taken aback when he saw me. “You're not Jett.”

  “Clearly.” I folded my arms across my chest, and looked down at him, glad the porch gave me the height advantage. “Will the other council members respond to the call of the bell?”

  “Those who can, will,” the man grumbled. He rubbed his eyes. “Hang it, man, it's barely dawn.”

  Peering up at the sky, I felt a sliver of exasperation. It was nearly mid-morning. I held my tongue, and leaned against the door frame and waited.

  Several minutes later a handful of other men showed at the town hall. We went inside, and I eyed them doubtfully. They were hardly an inspiring bunch, most of them a dusty collection of woodcutters and farmers, plus the village healer, a sour looking man, with a crooked nose.

  No women. Strange. Even in the mountain villages, there was always a woman or two to help balance leadership. I peered at the men gathered around me. I didn’t detect any shifting ability among them. They definitely weren’t Elite, or anything that amounted to that.

  “So, we’re here,” one of the men said, a burly man with a thick beard. He glowered darkly at me. “What’s going on?”

  “Where’s Jett?” I asked.

  “Out cutting wood,” the greasy blond man said. “Working, like respectful folk. What we were all doing, before you interrupted our work.”

  I wrinkled my nose. The man reeked of alcohol. “I’m here to try and get to the bottom of this issue,” I said, eyeing him leveling. “You know, the problem of this wild creature eating your people, one by one.”

  The men shifted uncomfortably, most of them refusing to make eye contact. “What about it?” the bearded man said gruffly, peering out the nearest window.

  Surprise flickered through me. “Well, what are your plans of resistance? How do you plan to fight back? How and when did this all start in the first place?”

  No answer. I was met with flat expressions. “You’d have to ask Jett,” the blond man said slowly.

  “Hertford is right,” the healer spoke up. “Jett is the only one who’s seen the Beast and lived to tell the tale.”

  My gaze narrowed. “Wait. So, when you say ‘Beast,’ it’s not because you don’t recognize what kind of creature it is. You actually haven’t seen it before?”

  I was met with a few scattered nods and shifting feet.

  I rubbed my face. “Well, have any of you tried to fight back? What plans have you tried?”

  Hertford shrugged. “Jett told
us we couldn’t fight back. That the Beast was too large and strong for us to fight back.”

  “But now you’re here,” the bearded man said. He turned his gaze to me, hope flickering in his eyes. “You can stop this madness. Taloos said he saw you defeat the troll. If you can fight and win against such a vicious creature, alone, surely you can win against the Beast as well.”

  “Taloos is a freak.” Hertford spat on the floor. “I don’t trust that boy, with his shifty eyes and bizarre affinity to animals.”

  This was new. I hadn’t noticed anything unusual about him, aside from the fact that he was annoying. But that wasn’t particularly unusual, when it came to the inhabitants of this town.

  “Maybe so,” the bearded man admitted, scratching his chin, “but he seems like an honest enough boy.”

  “Maybe the beast will take him next,” Herford muttered.

  “Enough.” My voice cracked through the air like a whip, making Hertford jump. “You call yourselves men? You run and hide in your homes at night, and let the Beast take annoying boys and little girls?”

  Again, their gazes dropped. The healer shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t want anyone to die, but I need to look out for my loved ones, first.”

  Guilt. It shuddered through me, and I was the one to look out the window. I swallowed hard. I’d done the same thing, hadn’t I? I took Glacia, and left my home and brotherhood to burn. I didn’t stay. I tried to fight too late.

  But I could help this village. “Jett’s in the forest?” I asked. “Isn’t he afraid the Beast will kill him?”

  Hertford shrugged. “It hasn’t yet. Jett knows what he’s about. He’s a good leader.”

  Good wasn’t a word I would have used to describe the ill-tempered man, but I didn’t feel like arguing the point. I exhaled. “Fine. I’ll find this creature, or it’ll find me, but I’ll take care of it, either way.” I eyed them balefully. “But no harm better come to the girl under my care. Glacia.”

  The bearded man and the healer both nodded vigorously. Hertford sneered. “Just worry about yourself, boy.”

  My fingers twitched. I had a strong urge to rearrange his face, so I left the building. “Cowards, the lot of them,” I grumbled to myself.

  When I reached Elysa’s home, Glacia was awake and helping Elysa with the laundry. I smiled, watching Glacia’s look of concentration as she tried to wring out the sopping wet clothing and hang it on the line. She was safe for the moment.

  Not interrupting her work, I turned and headed toward the forest, my legs eating up the distance. I breathed a sigh of relief when I was surrounded by trees.

  Wild beast, trolls and other dangers lurked in these woods, but I still preferred it to the crowded village. Here, I was home.

  30

  Glacia

  Laundry was a wet, sloppy business, and as I hung the dripping laundry on the line, I was glad that servants had dealt with mine my whole life.

  I stepped back, looking at the finished project. My dress, along with a few other outfits of Elysa's and her daughter, Nan’s, were now waving in the stiff breeze. Elysa had let me borrow a blouse and skirt from her. The blouse was too big, and kept slipping off my shoulder, but it would do, for now. The skirt was the same worn out linen that the other women in the village wore, voluminous and long, the hem reaching past my ankles, almost touching the ground.

  With laundry done, there was nothing to do but wait for it to dry, so I left the cottage, meandering down the path that lead further into the small village. There weren't very many people here, but there were probably near five hundred people or so. All huddled together in their cramped little houses, afraid to venture too far into the forest.

  Except for Jett. He left day after day. He brought wood back, for the village, but he was usually gone for hours. Even the men who hunted, weren't gone as long as he was. It made me suspicious.

  My feet led me to the communal gardens, where Taloos and a few other youths were weeding.

  “Hi.” I settled down next to Taloos, jumping in surprise when a bird sprang off his shoulder, winging up to a nearby tree. “Birds like people? Where I'm from, birds are skittish creatures.”

  “They are here, too,” Taloos agreed. “Just not around me. I'm their friend.”

  It was then I noticed that all the other young men and women were weeding on the far side of the garden, leaving Taloos alone. “Why don't you garden with the others?”

  Taloos shrugged his thin shoulders. “I like the isolation. Er, solitude, I mean.”

  I glared at one of the girls who glanced furtively our way. She blushed guiltily and went back to her weeding when she caught my scowl. “Do they shun you, Taloos?”

  Taloos coughed, his fingers curling in the soil. “Eh. It's all right. They don't understand my attachment to animals.”

  I crouched down next to him, determined to help. I caught on quickly when Taloos showed me which plants to pull, and which ones to leave.

  As I settled down, my fingers quickly pulling up the weeds, a wave of calm slowly washed over me.

  I loved the soft crumbly soil. The earth that coated my fingers and got under my nails. The soft tender plants, full of life. I almost felt guilty, pulling up weeds, ending their little lives, but I knew the village would need as much food as they could possibly grow.

  Peace. The perfect word to describe the emotion that swelled in my heart, as I sat quietly, working with Taloos. It was an emotion that I rarely felt, unless I was with Silvan. The feeling wove through me, like a precious thread of gold.

  Certainly, the villagers didn't feel it, if their actions and expressions were anything to go by, and my calm was coated with pity as I watched Taloos work beside me.

  “What is the Beast, Taloos?” I asked as I began to pull weeds. “When did it first come?”

  The boy shivered. “He came last winter, when the first snow fell. He came for old widow Briar, first. Like a shadow in the night it appeared, and then was gone.” He snapped dirt smudged fingers for emphasis. “We didn't know, at first, what had happened. Our only clue was the strong scent of smoke and acid that hung in the air. That and, of course, that Briar was missing. We never saw her again.”

  Taloos swallowed hard, working moisture back into his mouth. “Jett was the most upset. I mean, no one was happy to see her go. She was our village healer, much better at the job than old cranky Willy, our current 'healer,’ but Jett seemed the most rattled by it. He kept stomping around the village, shouting about how a monster had descended upon us, and that we could all die, with time.”

  “How did he know?” I interrupted. “Did he see the creature?”

  The boy frowned, his fingers automatically pulling up the prickly leaves. “I don't know,” he replied, speaking slowly, his brow scrunched in thought. “He must have, though, or how would he know?”

  “Who was taken after that?” I pressed.

  “Old codger Dawson,” Taloos said. “I liked him. He was great at finding tree sap gum, and could forage like no one else. Several more people have been taken since, and every time, our village leader, Jett, says it's the Beast. It needs a sacrifice to stay its rage. We've started stringing up the oldest and youngest in the village.” Taloos’ cheeks flooded with shame, his eyes welling with tears. He looked away, scrubbing at his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “He says it's the only way to protect ourselves from the monster’s rage. It could kill us all in one go.”

  I chewed my bottom lip, mulling over what Taloos had said. “You don't find it strange, then, that Jett is possibly the only villager who has seen this beast?”

  Taloos shrugged his thin shoulders. “Why should I?”

  I stared at him, astonished by his blind compliance. “What if Jett is the Beast?”

  Taloos snorted with laughter. “That's stupid. Jett is always so upset when someone is taken.”

  “What if it's just a cover up?” I said. “He just wants you all to think that he's sad. I see he hasn't been eaten.”

  Taloos
shook his head, but his cold laughter died away, his expression turning troubled. “Are you talking about—”

  “Werewolves,” I said. “Or a shifter.” I thought of Silvan, and added, “an evil kind of shifter. Not all are, of course.”

  “Like you would know,” Taloos scoffed, but doubt clouded his features. “If Jett is a werewolf, then we're all dead.” He laughed humorlessly. “At least he eats his prey, instead of turning them. A small mercy.”

  “Maybe he's making an army of werewolves somewhere,” I suggested, my cheeks pinking at the disgusted look Taloos gave me. “It's just an idea,” I muttered.

  “I might agree, except we've found remains at the sight we've tied the village offerings,” he said.

  My stomach soured. “You're a heartless bunch, you know.”

  Taloos sighed, looking suddenly tired. “I know.” He eyed me sideways. “So, what if Jett is the Beast? What then?”

  I smiled. “We tell Silvan.”

  Taloos’s eyes widened. “You're right,” he breathed. “If anyone can defeat the creature, it would be him.” He chuckled delightedly, rubbing his dirty hands together. “He took that troll like it was nothing.”

  “Where does Jett live?” I asked, dropping my voice to a whisper. “Maybe his house holds a clue.”

  Taloos wiped his palms on his trousers and stood, extending his hand to me. “He won't be home,” he said. “He's out chopping wood or hunting.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed his hand and let him haul me to my feet. Together we set off through the village. I glanced over my shoulder as we left the garden. It looked so bare and lonely. Like this village. And strangely enough, like everyone in it. The only closeness I’d seen at all was the affection Elysa and her small daughter showed to each other, and even that seemed guarded, almost as if they were both steeling themselves to lose each other.