Chapter 30
hen I come to, I’m pillowed by something so soft, and I’m sure I must be back in the High Hold. I turn and bury myself into it,W nuzzling into the soft fur of my new, warm cushion, only vaguely aware of the earthy aroma that emanates from it.
Yet as I shuffle deep, the rumble of a growl vibrates against my cheek.
My eyes flare open.
Great Mother! A yelp escapes me as I realise I’m nestled into Elska like her cub, utterly surrounded by her heat and warmth. ‘Rose!’ Whether he was alerted to my awakening by my noise or by Elska, I don’t know, but Kyor is at my side within a heartbeat, though for a split second I struggle to believe it’s him I’m looking at.
Exhaustion is in every line of his body, from the sallowness of his cheeks to the grey bags beneath his eyes, and he has more than a two o’clock stubble gracing his usually clean-shaven jaw. ‘I’ve got you. It’s okay.’ He helps me sit up, but my head swims. ‘I don’t feel so good,’ I admit. ‘You’ve been out a whole day,’ Kyor confirms, trying to keep his voice even, like he hasn’t been worried out of his mind for me. ‘Caz?’ I ask. ‘I’m all right,’ she calls over from where she’s sitting by the fire with Benny. Next to her – I blink just to make sure I’m not imagining it – are the two Quiet Ones. When I’m certain my eyes aren’t playing tricks on me, my gaze moves past them to the rest of the group: Loch who is sleeping and Ruben who is pacing nearby. All of them are here. All of them are safe.
Thank fuck.
As my head starts to steady, Caz comes over with a plate of food in her hands. ‘You probably need to eat and drink some. Thessa made you a broth, but we couldn’t manage to get you to drink much of it.’ ‘Thessa?’ I ask.
The taller of the two Quiet Ones raises her hand. ‘And this is Stide,’ she introduces, pointing to her companion.
Thessa has my blade at her hip and the wrongness of that sets my teeth on edge. The dagger is mine – my inheritance, my last connection to my mother.
There is no way Thessa is keeping it, but it’s not like I’m in any state to get it off her.
I can’t even think normally, let alone consider wresting the blade from her. ‘Right. Thank you for helping us with the Sannthrall.’ Thessa nods. ‘It was the right thing to do.’ I study the two women now that I have a little more time to take them in.
And there is a lot to take in. The hoods of their cloaks are full foxes’ heads that drape down their backs, allowing only a glimpse of their hair beneath – hair so bright, so absent of tone, that I’ve only seen the colour on a few people before, including myself and Kay. Have they been stripped of their magic? Is that why it’s that colour?
Their eyes, too, are unusual: a pale yellow citrine hue that seems to glow in the darkness.
I’ve seen them before, I realise with a start – in a vision, where they were dancing … or fighting. I wasn’t quite sure which. The fox people.
As my eyes scan down their bodies, noting the dark tabards they wear, the spears they carry, and my gaze once again lingers on the dagger Thessa still has. My mother’s blade. My blade.
I grimace. I can’t let it go. And while I don’t have it in me to fight for it, I don’t need to. Besides, it’s not like they played fair in getting it from me in
the first place. ‘Sorry, ladies, about that dagger …’ Perhaps it is foolish to reach for my magic so soon after what was surely magical exhaustion, but I can’t help myself. The blade is mine. Thankfully, the magic comes instantly as I summon the vines from a nearby bush and send them outwards. I don’t even give the woman enough time to draw breath. The vines snap up around Thessa’s wrists, strong enough to squeeze the muscles to the point of pain, and yet she still reaches for the dagger at her
side, grabbing the hilt and pulling the blade with her gloved hand.
Panic crosses Stide’s face as she darts to help her friend, but I send another surge of plant life tangling up her legs too, locking her in place.
It is, I admit to myself, a little too reminiscent of the Sannthrall itself, but needs must. ‘You have to understand, it’s got sentimental meaning,’ I say, finally feeling some strength returning.
To give Thessa her due, she doesn’t let go of the dagger easily, and her fingers are turning blue when Caz walks forward and pulls the hilt out of her grasp with a muttered ‘Sorry’.
Although Caz has barely taken hold of it when she drops it again. ‘Fuck! That’s hot!’ Stide sneers. ‘Why do you think Thessa is wearing gloves?’ Rather than responding to the Quiet One, Caz kneels and wraps fabric from her shirt around the hilt and brings it over to me. Only when it’s firmly in my grasp do I loosen the vines on the pair of Quiet Ones. ‘It’s not hot to your touch?’ Caz stares, her scholarly fascination taking control.
Apparently not. I remember now, Kay calling it hot, and Ruben, too. I dismissed their comments for one reason or another, but now I accept the truth. ‘No,’ I confirm. ‘It belongs to me.’ Stide’s yellow eyes flash with fury, and I ready myself for whatever magic they’re going to hurl my way, but nothing comes. Nothing but a hiss of rage. ‘You lied,’ she spits. ‘You lied to us. You said we could have the blade.’ ‘And you did. I gave it to you,’ I reply equably. ‘You had it for a whole day, apparently. But I didn’t say you could keep it. Be more specific in your bargaining next time.’ As her jaw locks, I feel the most minuscule flicker of guilt. ‘I am sorry,’ I say honestly, ‘but this dagger is not something I’d trade.
It is mine. My family’s.’ Their nostrils flare, but they don’t attempt to take it back. They’re not stupid. There are six of us – and a dire wolf – against their two. They would have to have some pretty spectacular magic to take us all on and win. And judging by our matching hair colour, I’m not convinced they have any.
Then again, they knew about the Sannthrall’s presence, not to mention how to subdue it with the dagger. Someone might make the same erroneous deduction about me and the colour of my hair, so I’ve no intention of letting
my guard down just yet. ‘Now,’ I say, sheathing the blade back where it belongs, ‘I’m sure you’re going to have to repeat yourselves for my benefit, but who or what the hell are the Quiet Ones, and what the fuck happened to Caz, and why did the blade do that?’ ‘That’s a lot of questions,’ Stide says snidely. ‘Why would you expect us to answer, let alone answer truthfully? You tricked us.’ ‘And you tried to bargain with me while our friend was dying,’ I fire back. ‘I hardly think you can take the moral high ground right now. Do you?’ Stide sniffs in response, but Thessa stays silent. Morality matters to her, and she feels bad about their actions. That’s good to know. ‘You’re being foolish,’ Stide continues. ‘You should run while you have the chance. Any moment now, our vast numbers will be upon you.’ ‘She’s lying,’ Caz says with quiet confidence.
Thessa’s eyes widen. ‘You’re a diviner of truth?’ She looks at Caz with renewed wonder. ‘What a blessing.’ ‘It’s actually somewhat of a curse,’ Caz sighs. ‘People lie. A lot. Like Stide just did.’ ‘Lies!’ Loch shrieks abruptly in agreement. His body jerks, eyes wide. ‘The Quiet Ones are lonely. So few Quiet Ones. So lonely. So little magic. So empty.’ Even beneath the fox mask, I catch their scowls. ‘So we’re not quite as outnumbered as you want us to believe,’ I say mildly. ‘With that in mind, I’ll ask you one more time. Who are you? What do you want with us?’ ‘We have questions of our own,’ Thessa replies primly. ‘You answer ours. We’ll answer yours.’ ‘What was that thing?’ Benny asks. ‘The tree? You’ve been giving us vague half answers all day. What was it?’ Thessa’s mouth tightens. ‘Tell us first where you got that blade from. One such as you should not have it.’ ‘And why is that?’ I ask, interest piqued. What do they know of the weapon at my hip? ‘It is the Gods’ gift. For the Vind. The Gods’ chosen children.’ The Vind? I’ve never even heard of such a people. Then again, I hadn’t heard of the Quiet Ones before either. Maybe the Vind is their name for themselves?
‘A gift from the Gods, hey? That’s interesting, because I happen to have been gifted by the Goddess Etta herself in the recent Retterheld. So it’s no wonder the dagger is mine.’ My voice sounds confident, which truthfully is not how I’m feeling. The knife being left in my family’s possession pre-dates me becoming the gifted by decades. Which means what? That they had somehow decided I would be gifted before I was even conceived? The very thought of it makes my spine crawl.
Nobody likes to think of their actions as being predestined, predetermined. We each make our own choices in life – don’t we? ‘Who are you?’ I press.
Thessa frowns. ‘You already have our names.’ ‘Who we are is more than the sounds by which we are known,’ I say impatiently. ‘Where are you from? And what magic do you possess? There are other Quiet Ones … so where are they?’ ‘I don’t know,’ Thessa replies. ‘We have had to spread ourselves thin, trying to delay his return.’ ‘His return? Whose?’ It’s my turn to frown, and I look to Benny and Caz. ‘Is it true what she says? That she doesn’t know where the rest of their people are?’ Benny presses his lips together. ‘I’m not sure.’ He looks her over again. ‘She’s afraid of something.’ Wanting a more definite answer, I turn to Caz, but she’s not looking at me. Instead, she’s staring at the women. ‘Caz?’ I ask gently.
She twists around to face me. Her cheeks pale. ‘The Sanning,’ she whispers, her voice cracked and raw.
Stide and Thessa stiffen visibly at the word, and Caz’s hand shakes as she lifts it to cover her mouth in disbelief. ‘The Sanning,’ she says again as her eyes drift back to the women. ‘That was who Rohan had me writing about. I knew he believed what he was saying, but—’ She cuts herself off.
I frown, recalling Rohan’s numerous ramblings, but it was all absurd nonsense … was it not? ‘Caz?’ I say again. ‘Who are the Sanning?’ This time I actually get her full attention.
She takes a step towards me. ‘According to Rohan – to his stories –
they’re the fourth people of the Gods. Issen, Torailian, Morathkian … and Sanning.’ ‘Impossible,’ Benny pipes up. ‘I’ve read every book in the Eastern Isles library. There was no mention of a fourth people.’ ‘No … because the Gods wanted to hide what had been done. At least that’s what Rohan told me,’ Caz adds quickly. ‘What he believed. The Sannings’ magic was stripped.’ ‘Stripped?’ I say, my eyes falling again on the Quiet Ones’ bright white
hair. ‘By whom?’ ‘By Sa —’ ‘Do not say his name!’ Stide shrieks. ‘Do not speak his name in these woods!’ Her voice holds the menace of an attack, but neither makes an aggressive move. And now I know for certain why they haven’t used magic to get the blade back – they don’t have any.
Caz falls silent at Stide’s panicked order, but there’s no need for us to complete the God’s name. There is only one who starts with that letter.
Sanrott, God of the Land and Sea.
He is the only God for whom there is no temple in Wrohelm, but that is because every inch of the sea and land is considered sacred to him – he can be worshipped anywhere, no temple needed.
As a contemplative silence settles over the group, a shriek somewhere in the distance wails through the night, making the horses stir and snort. ‘Rottings,’ Loch suddenly starts muttering as he rocks on the balls of his feet. His eyes are wide and scared. ‘The Rotting Ones are awake. And they
are ready.’ Ready? To do what?
A second cry echoes from deeper in the forest. An animal sound.
Guttural. A chill runs down my spine. There is something terrifying about that sound, and every instinct in me stands up and tells me to run.
Elska clearly feels the same. She leaps to her feet and responds to the wail with a low, rumbling growl of her own as she looks to Kyor.
His expression is grim. ‘We need to decide if we’re staying here,’ he says. ‘If we are, we need to light fires. Keep the … animals off. If not —’ ‘You are not safe,’ Thessa interrupts. ‘Not in these woods. Not alone. Let us come with you. Let us guide you.’ Her eyes linger on my dagger in a way that I really don’t like. ‘Loch is right. The Rotting Ones grow in number
every day, and what we have just done with the Sannthrall will have angered them greatly.’ ‘Rotting Ones?’ I query. I’ve only just got my head around the idea of Myrkrs being real, and the Quiet Ones – the Sannings. There can’t possibly be a fifth race I haven’t heard of. ‘Rotting Ones are what Caroline would have become had we not been here to save her,’ Thessa says. ‘And what you are likely to become if you stay any longer in this place. Unless you have someone to guide you.
Someone who knows these parts well.’ For people who, only a day ago, were ready to let my friend die, their sudden eagerness to help stinks of desperation. And cynically, I think I know why. ‘And what would you want in return for your guidance?’ I ask. ‘Assuming I can’t guess,’ I add, tapping the knife at my side. ‘Is it really such an ask?’ Thessa questions. ‘We could always just wait until you are dead and take it from you then…? I’m sure it won’t take long.’ ‘This blade is mine,’ I say stubbornly. ‘I will not part with it again, and I wouldn’t threaten me if I were you. I’ve got more than enough power to end you myself, Rotting Ones notwithstanding, and I’m not alone either.’ Her bravado dims as she casts her gaze down my line of friends. Kyor’s smirk is firmly in place, while Ruben has a small flame smouldering on his palm, just to make a point. I’m not sure he can have much magic left after that fireball he hurled into the tree, but I appreciate the effort. It definitely works. ‘I’m not heartless,’ I continue. ‘You cannot have my weapon, but there are others. I know of another who carries a blade like mine. If you help us, I will tell you who. I will even tell you where to find it.’ The High Priestess Mila stripped the magic from my family and me, and she designed the trials in the Retterheld that killed my fellow Rettlings. She left Loch for dead. I have no hesitation in pointing the Quiet Ones in her direction. ‘And how do we know you’re not lying?’ Stide growls. ‘You lied before.’ ‘No, I didn’t. Maybe I tricked you, but you should know better than to take advantage of desperate people. The moment the tables turn, they will do the same to you. But hopefully, that lesson has been learned. What I’m saying now is the truth. I know the location of another blade, exactly like this one, and I will tell it to you – once you help us.’
‘We could go to the city now,’ Thessa responds. ‘Find it ourselves.’ This time I laugh aloud. ‘Oh yes, and which city is that? Galreck?
Dorain? Rowell? Wrohelm? I’m sure you’d have no issue going unseen through them all and finding the single person, out of the hundreds of thousands of people there, that has the dagger. Assuming you even could, it would take years, if not decades. Get us all out of here alive and I’ll tell you.’ A silence falls as Thessa and Stide exchange glances.
Stide finally nods, teeth gritted. ‘Fine. Any more tricks and we will leave you here, on your own, to suffer the wrath of the Gods.’ ‘Any trickery from you and you’ll be dead before you draw your next breath,’ Kyor says. It’s the evenness of his tone that makes the threat so deadly. He won’t hesitate to kill them both if they misstep. ‘Then it is agreed,’ Thessa murmurs, sounding annoyingly triumphant, leaving me feeling like we’ve somehow misstepped. ‘We will guide you through the forest.’ ‘All the way to the Hirathean Pass,’ Ruben interrupts. He’s right.
Whatever these Rotting things are, there’s a good chance they’re not limited to this area. ‘Up to the Hirathean Pass,’ I repeat, only to feel that pressure at the base of my spine. The ring doesn’t want to be forgotten, but there are only so many times I can risk our lives, and I now have hundreds of other heirlooms back in Wrohelm.
Yet something tells me this ring is different. It’s important.
But so is staying alive.
Thessa and Stide share one more look before eventually dipping their heads in agreement. ‘Fine,’ Thessa says. ‘But we need to leave. Now!’ We don’t need her urgency to spur us into packing in haste. Nor do we need Loch’s hearing to note that the shrieks are coming ever closer.
