MIRA’S EYES STRAINED in the darkness as she tried to make out her surroundings. Behind them, she could just make out the dark bulk of the spine of high country that formed a natural barrier between the marshes surrounding Veldoras and the woodland to the north. Ahead, she spied the shadowy outlines of trees.
Caution feathered across her skin. Night wasn’t the best time to be journeying.
Turning her attention back to the sleeping world around her, Mira inhaled deeply. She turned to Ninia, who stood silently beside her. After a shaky start, the princess had done well. If she grieved for her family, she kept it hidden for the moment.
“Is it safe to travel?” Ninia asked. “Maybe we should stay in the cave overnight.”
“We need to keep moving,” Mira replied. They were still too close to Veldoras for her liking. She remembered the rumors she’d heard of the shadow creatures that stalked the night these days, but dismissed them. She was more worried about men bearing cold steel than mystical creatures no one in Veldoras had ever seen. “There’s a village not far from here: Deeping. We should reach it by midnight if we hurry.”
“But how will we find it in the dark?” Ninia replied, the tremor in her voice the only sign she was struggling. “There’s no path.”
“There’s a road leading through the woods,” Mira assured her. “If we head directly north, we’ll reach it soon enough. Then all we need to do is follow it east.”
The two of them set off without another word, their boots whispering over the dew-laden grass as they headed toward the line of trees. Ninia stuck close to Mira, so close that she accidently stepped on her heel once or twice—only to receive a warning hiss from her guardian.
Mira entered the trees, inhaling the smell of rich vegetation, and led the way through coppicing lime trees and birch. It was very dark in here, the watery light of the full moon barely penetrated the canopy, and Mira slowed her pace, cautious of walking into a tree or tripping over an exposed root.
The silence unnerved her. Mira had spent most of her life in the city and felt her most comfortable listening to the murmur of voices, the clatter of wheels and hooves on cobbles, and the calls of vendors at market. She found the countryside too quiet.
Yet she’d never known a wood to be this silent.
There were no hoots of night birds; or sounds of foxes, rabbits, and badgers rustling in the undergrowth. Even the breeze that had fanned her face outside the cave didn’t seem to reach here.
Mira’s right hand instinctively went to the pommel of Foebane at her side. If there was anyone lurking out there in the darkness, she’d gladly cut them down.
It didn’t take them long to stumble across the road. The trees drew back here, revealing a wide ribbon of sky overhead. The faint glow of the moon through the cloud illuminated a thin unpaved way, badly rutted and pot-holed.
Mira huffed out a breath of relief, pleased to see the map she carried was accurate. Before leaving The Swallow Keep, she had studied it carefully.
“Come,” she said to the princess. “We shouldn’t dawdle.”
“Why?” Ninia asked, falling into step next to her. “Will someone have followed us from Veldoras?”
“That’s unlikely.”
“Then why are you so nervous?”
Mira bit back her irritation. Ninia’s shock was wearing off, her abrasive character resurfacing once more. “I’m not,” she replied curtly.
She set a fast pace along the road, making up for the time they’d lost picking their way through the woods. Mira traveled easily; she was used to strenuous exercise, although beside her Ninia started to puff.
“Can’t we rest for a while?” Ninia finally panted. “I’ve got a stitch in my side.”
Annoyance flared within Mira. “Not unless you want a Nightgenga to find you.” Ninia’s shocked silence made Mira press on. She hadn’t wanted to bring up the shadow creatures, but if it silenced Ninia she’d do so. “Or perhaps one of the Hiriel can wrap you in its net of shadows and carry you off to its lair.”
Mira was enjoying herself now. Ninia didn’t reply although Mira noted she quickened her pace.
As they walked Mira noticed the silence deepening further. A fine, milky mist wreathed through the trees, drifting out onto the road. Mira’s pulse quickened. The faint breeze earlier in the evening had died, and yet this strange mist moved as if pushed by a brisk wind.
Farther down the road, a ramshackle structure loomed out of the mist. Mira peered at the outline of the thatched roof, collapsed in places; the heavy oaken door that hung off its hinges; and the gaping windows where the shutters had been ripped away. As they approached, she realized that the building had once been an inn; a sign bearing a painting of a woodman’s axe still hung from above the door. Tonight there was not a soul about. The faint smell of iron lingered in the air.
“What happened here?” Ninia whispered, her voice catching. “The damage looks recent.”
Mira ran her eye over the façade of the inn, her gaze narrowing. “I don’t know … but we won’t hang around to find out.”
“Maybe it was shadow creatures?”
Mira gave the girl a sidewise glance. Ninia’s face was a pale disc in the darkness. The princess sniffed then. “What’s that stink?”
Mira inhaled, noting that the faint odor of hot iron had grown stronger—as if they stood near a smith’s forge. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she glanced around, peering into the mist, which curled across the road like questing fingers.
Impatient after not getting an answer from her companion, Ninia continued. “It smells like—”
“Quiet.” Mira cut her off, her voice low and sharp. “Listen.”
The two of them stopped in the middle of the road, holding their breaths and listening.
A faint cry echoed through the surrounding trees. It was a high-pitched yipping sound, coming from the south. A moment later another cry responded, this one coming from the north.
Mira tensed. That sounded like a call—as if something had noted their passage and was alerting its friends.
Shit. Mira cursed her arrogance; she’d been too quick to dismiss the rumors. Suddenly, armed men seemed preferable to whatever hunted the night. We should have stayed in the cave.
Beside her Ninia was frantically looking around to see if anyone crept up on them. Mira turned, her gaze sweeping over the twisted boughs of trees that lined the road.
An eerie howl echoed through the woods then.
Mira’s body went cold, and she drew Foebane. Then, with her free hand, she grabbed Ninia by the arm and propelled her forward, east along the road. “Run!”
The Swallow and the princess fled.
Around them the woods exploded with feral screams, wails, and unearthly cries. The hunt was on.
Mira’s feet flew over the dirt road, blood roaring in her ears. She didn’t look back, didn’t dare even glance from left to right. Their only chance now was to outrun their hunters, to make it to their destination. As tired and unfit as she was, the princess kept up with her. Terror had given Ninia’s feet wings, although Mira knew that adrenalin would only sustain her for so long. Eventually, exhaustion would hook its claws in and drag her down.
They hadn’t gone far when Ninia tripped. Mira hauled her up by the arm. “Keep running!” She could feel the girl’s bubbling hysteria, smell her terror. Panic also welled within Mira. She could hear the breathing of their pursuers—the scrabble and slap of their feet on the road behind them. She dared not look back, or she’d be lost.
We’ll never make it to the village in time.
And yet, as they fled east, their jabbering, screeching pursuers behind them, the trees drew back, and the road descended a hill into a shallow vale.
There, just three furlongs ahead, lay the walls of Deeping. Fires burned from the wooden watchtowers at each end of the village palisade. Mira saw the jagged outline of the high fence that ringed the village, and her breathing caught in her chest.
Just a little farther.
The gates were closed, as they would be after dark—especially with shadow creatures roaming the night—and Mira heard Ninia’s gasp of despair. They could both hear the closest of their hunters now: the curses and hissing.
“Open the gates!” Mira bellowed, her voice cutting through the night. “Open … the … gates!”
They were only a few yards away now, the heavy oaken and iron gates an impenetrable wall between them and safety.
Mira tightened her grip on the hilt of Foebane, readying herself to turn and fight. It would be short and bloody, but she would not let them take her down easily.
Some escape this is.
She’d taken Ninia from one danger and plunged her into another. This was her fault—her miscalculation. However, it was too late for regrets now. Too late for anything except to pray someone had heard her shout, to pray those gates opened.
And they did.
Just a couple of feet from the gates, Mira heard the groan of metal and wood and glimpsed the glow of firelight from within. She and Ninia hurtled for that space, Mira pulling back so that the princess could enter before her.
And then strong hands grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her inside too.
The gap closed, the gates slamming shut with a boom.
A heartbeat later the tide of shadow creatures at their heels crashed against the barrier of wood and iron. The gates shook under the onslaught but held easily. Howls of fury, the hammering of fists, and screeched curses and shrieks echoed through the night.
Mira sank to the ground, her chest heaving from that final sprint, while beside her Ninia was retching. The girl was shaking, and tears streaked her face.
Climbing to her feet, her heart still thundering in her chest, Mira’s gaze met that of their savior. Balding, with a blunt-featured face and clad head to foot in boiled leather, the man raked his gaze over her, his expression incredulous. “Fine night to be out traveling.”