SAELYNAI finally find a spot to spend the morning alone and in silence. Around a curve in the creek, further down the plateau. The birds tweet rather sweetly here, and the air is soft and gentle. I wonder why it took me this long to find it.I drift off for a while before a strong smell penetrates my nostrils, that of smoke. I thought I’d had my fill of fires.When I trace the source, it comes from above me, on the tableland. Another funeral pyre.But it’s just Jenna. And an altar.She stands quietly, solemnly, her grey coat and dark hair billowing in the morning breeze, the smoke and smell of incense wafting around her in gentle curls. She looks serene, almost godlike in that posture, in the moment, until I remember the way her eyes had flashed and the fangs that protrude from her mouth. Wolves are not to be trusted, father would say, They give off an air of peace and certainty, like a foxan, but they cannot hide forever. Sooner or later, they’ll bite down and most times, it’s too l
CYRANThe bathhouse is where I head after the cremation. I hope for some quiet, but also Gylen.Before the fire had died down, Gylen walked away, conspicuous in his dark brown coat. I waited a while before following him, a decision I regret a bit. If a wolven wished to stay hidden, he would stay hidden.I push the door open, cursing and wincing when it creaks loudly. I blink once to adjust my sight to the darkness, and the first thing I notice is that the water is gone. Drained out, it seems, and the place is just an empty, normal hut with a small trench in the ground. Perfect.A wooden stool stands beside the door. The work of a seasoned craftsman, its four legs are carved with symbols…no, not symbols. Wolf faces, styled to resemble ideograms.‘Wonderful workmanship’. The dirk is in my hand before I turn, but it’s just Ronn.I right my stance as I lower the blade but I don’t sheath it. Whenever I see him, tall and threatening in his ash cloak, I see the silver wolven that attacked us
68. DEPARTURE.CAIVANGylen returns with Farden and Pedran from their scout and reports the area empty. "And what about Halden?" I ask. They exchanged glances, and Farden spoke: "It was... deserted." ‘Deserted?’ I repeat, "How is that?" "Not a living soul stirred." "It was like death had struck in one night," Pedran says. I smelled them. The winter wolves like they had been in the village. But if they had, they left little in the way of blood," Gylen quips.I nod. I avoid the temptation to start speculating and connecting ropes, instead turning to Argell’s hut. "Get ready, brothers," I say, "we're headed for Tussel."Someone, most likely Veesa, has cropped his hair so that it lies close to his scalp, low and spiky. It's almost like Keilen’s. They still haven’t seen her, not since yesterday, and I don’t want to bother Father about it. Lupion, I don’t want to think about it. There’s no telling how we’ll find her, dead or alive.I shut down the ill thoughts and walk up to him, where he s
SAELYNA"Recharging" our magic is like drinking a very good mead…without tasting it of course. I don't need Cyran to pull me back this time though, but he needs me to do the same for him.The air began to smell faintly of metal before I yanked his hands from the blue leaves. He blinked severally, breathing hard before the blue leaves his eyes. He had gone in deep. Too deep.'Thank you', he says after taking calming breaths. 'Don't say'. I settle down beside him, staring at the plants that had started all of this. Their leaves dance in the light breeze, like little blue children waving at the sun. Like they were not capable of starting a war.Cyran sighs. 'I've never really noticed how lovely the mornings here can be'. 'Neither have I,' I note thoughtfully, 'It's the beauty behind the madness, I guess'. 'Yes….', he replies, staring at me like I've assumed another skin, 'Yes, something like that'. 'I don't know how to conjure flames, Cyran,' I blurt out. 'You don't know?' he says quietl
SAELYNA'Bad idea,' he says before I even finish.I throw my hands up. 'Look, I'm not asking for your permission, Quain, I'm just letting you know, so you can tell them if they come looking for us'. He shakes his head. 'You never said anything before. Gods, you healed those kids like it was nothing,' he says half shrilly. 'Not exactly, Quain. For the most part it was quite easy, but there's something else. It drains energy from our bodies. And when we…recharge…' Cyran bites a nail, a new habit he's developed. 'Well, it gets tricky. It's like I'm getting pulled in too deep'. Quain turns to me. 'And this happens to you as well?' 'Yes it does. One time, I felt Cyran drifting away and….' 'You two are still connected?' I purse my lips and run a hand through my hair. 'Focus, Quain. The point is, that's not supposed to happen, is it?' He scrunches up his face and I make his hesitation a leverage. 'Even then, we can't set the plants ablaze'. He winces almost immediately I mention "ablaze" and
CYRANThe feel of an arrow between my thumb and index, the tight pull of the taut string on my fingers, the smell of the woods…I don't think I've ever felt this tensed with arrow before. It's an effort to keep it face down as father had said, lest some sound or sight would set me off and I'd end up shooting the wrong "prey"...and gods know I'm very on edge.Morning light barely penetrates the canopy above, made of the very same trees I had been hunting under that fateful evening. The forest is dead silent though; the squinards are silent, the birds are solemn and every sound we make seems to echo through the trees, no matter how quiet it seems.Quain leads us as quietly as a hare, peering all around him with his back bent. Fareedah doesn't show the same caution, though, and neither does Saelyna. We four are quite soundless on foot; elves due to anatomy, Quain because of his genn and wolven due to years of caution; but it doesn't feel like it. Or I'm just on edge.Quain seems more pens
CYRANWe walk on more cautiously than before; even Fareedah doesn't say a word. Her wound has healed completely shut, but there's an air to her now, like she could spring on the person next to her at the slightest inclination.I take the lead, following tracks wholly unfamiliar to me, but Quain points out occasional landmarks. He opted to stay behind me, claiming I'm the one with the arrows and the magic.Presently, the trees are getting closer, the canopy heavier. I know this route; further ahead, and I'd be reliving my first attack. 'Our cottage should just be over the knoll beyond those trees,' I point out. 'There's a shortcut,' Saelyna says, staring at a scanty path to our left. It leads to the road from the glade, straight to our cottage. 'Too easy. And easy is not good,' Quain declares, 'Let's take this path. The forest air is choking me'. 'We need to be fast,' Fareedah says, 'I say we take the shortcut'. Quain curse under his breath but trudges after Saelyna all the same, leavi
CYRAN'So you can fly?'The incredulity in his voice almost makes me laugh. As if the impossibilities of the last few days have not been enough. 'No, Quain, no one can fly any more than hates can sing,' I say calmly, as Saelyna lifts herself up from my arms, her face turning a light shade of red. She rubs her forehead, staring at the ashes once more but with a sorrowful look and not with rage. 'I'm sorry,' Fareedah says, offering her a hand. Saelyna takes it, pulling herself to her feet. 'Don't be. It is not your fault'.Her eyes widen suddenly, and she dashes to the debris, and begins glancing and searching about for something. It takes me a while to figure it has to be one of two things. 'Be at ease, Sae, Camille took care of Ima. If she was burnt along with the house, we'd have known. Panther bones do not wither,' Quain calls. 'Very droll, Quain!' I call back. 'Who would do this?' Fareedah says, picking up a charred plank. 'The mages, I'd expect,' Saelyna replies stonily, 'Those se