Page 44 of Death Will Follow

“We have to take the long way,” Bryn groaned.

“Yes. Traveling over land is our only option.”

“How long will that take?” Nova leaned forward in her seat, ready to join their deliberations.

“We can portal into Pyralis, but from there it will be at least a week on horseback. It may be wise to stop at the Maedwen Estate before traveling on to the Wylds.” Callan tapped his thumbs together. “Though I don’t look forward to another meeting with the prick, perhaps we should make Lord Arthur aware of our presence in his territory.”

“He can’t monitor every happening within his borders,” Nova pointed out. “Surely we can slip through unnoticed.”

“It’s possible. But Arthur strikes me as a prideful sort. If we’re discovered without proper leave to travel, I’m afraid that pride won’t allow him to grant us his pardon, regardless of whether we’re acting in the best interest of the Realm.”

“Perhaps I should make our case before the throne,” Bryn suggested, hazel eyes flicking between Callan and Nova. “You terrify him,” she said, tipping her chin at Nova. “And you”—she turned to Callan—“called him a coward in front the entire Council. For good reason, sure, but I doubt he’ll be inclined to do either of you any favors.”

Callan narrowed his eyes on Bryn as he took in her markings. Delicate, leafy vines coiling up her arms, spilling out of her collar, and climbing her neck toward her hairline. Such markings weren’t common among the folk of Maedwen.

“What makes you so certain you could sway him?” he asked. “You might have a better chance with the sister. What was her name?”

Bryn’s spine went rigid for an instant, but she quickly recovered herself, easing back in her seat. “Riven. What makes you say that?”

“She seemed a bit more reasonable than her brother, is all. You’re a Wyldling. You’re both archers. I only meant to suggest there’s common ground there.”

“I suppose I could seek her out instead.” Bryn cleared her throat, eyes fixed on the table. “We’ll need food for the journey. I’ll visit the kitchens and gather provisions.”

Callan gripped Nova’s hands folded in her lap, and she gave him a weak smile. He’d promised himself long ago that he’d never set foot in the Wylds again. But his mind could conjure nothing that would keep him from following Nova anywhere, even into the After Realm itself.

Nineteen

Their journey by portal to the northwestern corner of Pyralis passed without incident. From there, it was only a day’s ride through the vibrant countryside, foraging for apples and bedding down beside small fires to chase away the evening chill, before they reached the edge of Maedwen. The rains began nearly as soon as they crossed the border. For two full days, the sun hid behind a thick blanket of clouds while a soaking rain poured from the heavens. Even drenched and chilled to the bone, Nova marveled at the magnificent green country rolling out around them.

Occasionally, the muddy cart roads led them through small settlements. Tiny townships boasting little more than a tavern and a trading post with hardy Wyldling folk bartering pelts for potatoes and woven fabrics for foraged plants. Bryn led the way atop her straw-colored gelding, greeting wary passersby with a tap of her fingers at the center of her forehead. The gesture seemed to ease the locals’ initial mistrust—that is, until they caught sight of Nova and Callan, who stood out like sore thumbs despite their hoods pulled low. Nova imagined their presence would provide enough fodder for drunken tavern gossip for weeks to come.

Late on the third day, the skies mercifully ceased their crying, and the thick cloud cover parted, revealing glorious golden rays. Bryn suggested they make camp to take advantage of the break in the weather. While the Wyldling disappeared into the forest in search of small game, Callan set to work coaxing a fire to life, scraping the blade of his dagger along a flint stone. Wisely, he’d gathered dried grass and leaves as they passed through the Autumn Court, forming the material into small bundles which they’d been able to use to kindle flames even in the waterlogged landscape of Maedwen. Not for the first time, Nova was reminded of Fawn, who had conjured roaring flames from thin air as easily as blinking. Shaking her head, Nova cast all thoughts of Fawn from her mind. Thinking of her only made Nova worry, and she was doing all she could for her friend at present.

Determined to make herself useful, Nova checked over the horses, lifting each animal’s hooves one by one and inspecting them for any stones or other irritating bits. Finding nothing, she removed her woolen cloak and draped it over a broad, flat rock to catch some of the sun’s rays. After several days of heavy rain, the garment was soaked and added extra weight. Fortunately, it had kept her body somewhat warm and her clothing relatively dry.

Lowering herself onto the rock, she tugged off her boots and removed her socks, laying them beside her cloak. The forest was quiet, peaceful. The patter of falling drops picking up each time the breeze, crisp and fresh with the scent of earth, rustled the leaves. Spring, with its budding blooms, had always filled Nova with a sense of hope. A similar sense of optimism took root in her chest as she tilted her head back to feel the warmth of the sun upon her face.

Roughly an hour later, Bryn emerged from the woods, a gray hare dangling from her belt. Nova rose, offering to prepare the animal for the evening meal, but Bryn waved her off. After pulling on her boots once more and shaking out her cloak, Nova joined Callan by the campfire.

The roast rabbit, served along with bread and hard cheese, made a pleasant meal. Nova draped her cloak about her shoulders and scooted closer to Callan when the sun dipped beneath the treetops. He wrapped an arm around her and tucked her in close to his side. Bryn sat across from them, the flames dancing in front of her as her eyes flitted about. She cocked her head, listening as the darkening woods slowly came to life around them.

“What are you listening for?” Nova asked contentedly, nuzzling her cheek against Callan’s chest.

Bryn was quiet for a beat longer before focusing her attention on the fire. “Beasts. Sprites. Many creatures call the woods of Maedwen home. And not all of them pleasant.”

Sobered by the mention of beasts, Nova perked up, remembering it was unwise to let her guard down, no matter how tired she was or how full her belly.

“The same sprites from the Wylds?” Nova tipped her head to look at Callan, finding his jaw tight, his warm brown skin bathed in the orange glow of the flames.

“No.” He clicked his tongue. “The sprites you’d find here are more playful. Hiding things. Tying your bootlaces together while you sleep. The sprites of the Wylds are a more sinister sort.”

“And they inhabit the mounds?” Nova’s gaze flicked back to Bryn, who adjusted her position to lean back on her hands.

“The Wyld sprites are more like guardians. Charged with protecting the burial mounds,” Bryn explained.

“Burial mounds?” The notion astounded Nova. In the Human Realm and Aemoria alike, folk practiced fire as a final rite. How else were the souls of the dead to be carried to the After Realm? “But you said folk believe the mounds are as old as the gods. Who is buried within them?”

Bryn’s bright eyes gleamed in the firelight, a grin spreading across her impish features.