Twenty-Two

“Wind’s in the west,” said Erik. It felt good on his face: a fresh breeze after the close, clammy scent of the far forest. He and John stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out to sea and waiting for Toinette and Raoul to join them. “Autumn soon.”

He didn’t expect the other man to answer, not in more than a grunt or a dispassionate mmm. John took instruction well enough, but he’d never sought Erik out, nor started conversations. As far as Erik knew, the Englishman was as hostile as he’d been the first day aboard.

Therefore, when John spoke, thoughtfully and at length, it took a moment for the actual words to take shape in Erik’s mind: “The harvest will be coming on well, back home.”

“Aye. I’d give much for a ripe apple, or a loaf of fresh bread.”

John actually smiled. “It’s bread I miss when I’m away. That and my wife, of course.”

“You’re a good man to say it, and rare.”

“She’s a patient woman.” John looked from the sea and the clear sky to Erik. “You don’t know the thing you’re here after, do you? Not in any specific.”

“No.”

“But you’re hoping it’ll give your lord power.”

“My land, rather.”

“Your side, let’s say.” John rubbed at his beard. “If you do get back, say, and the treasure’s as powerful as all that, what do you imagine you’ll do with it? What would your lot do if they won, and could keep on? Would David take London?”

Shades of Artair came back to him, and easy words died in Erik’s throat. “I’d think not,” he said after a long time had seemed to pass. It was the best he could manage. “We didn’t before. I’d say we’d settle back to the borders we’d had. The men I led are tired of war. So am I.”

“Kings don’t tire so easily as other men.”

“Yours didn’t, that’s for certain,” Erik replied hotly.

“Well—” John began to respond in similar temper, and Erik had to admire him in that moment. Not many would speak that way to a dragon, no matter how provoked. Nor did he think it was fear that stopped John’s tongue, but a wiser, more worldly emotion. “No. No, and there’s not much honor in what he did, in the end. But honor’s for your sort. For me, I want to know that my home will be safe, and my family.”

“I think they will. From us, at any rate. A king will find it hard to fight a war if his lords are against it, and mine wishes no more fighting than I do. We’ll claim our own again, and that’ll be an end of it.”

“And if you’re wrong about your lord?”

“Then I’ll do my best to change his mind,” Erik said, though he winced inwardly at the notion of trying to change Artair’s course once he’d set it. “This thing, if it exists, might keep our sons from killing each other. That’s my hope.”

John nodded slowly, then as slowly asked, “Do you have any?”

“No. It’s…difficult, for us, with mortals.”

“I keep dreaming of mine,” said John. “Not good dreams.”

“I don’t think anyone has good dreams here.”

* * *

Darkness, death, and a voice: “This is what waits.”

His answers echoed, hollow: “This is a nightmare. We made it. You can show me all the corpses you want; I know this is a dream.”

“Dreams speak truth. You know this.”

“Not all dreams are prophecy, and not all prophecy is fixed. Go away.”

“You can’t stop it. You are one.”

“I’m not alone.”

“They break. They fear. They run.”

“Who are you?”

“She cares for herself. For her pets. She would turn on you to save them. She will.”

“What are you?”

“This is what waits.”

* * *

“We’ll set a circle of protection around the camp,” Toinette said, filling waterskins, “and another at the cabin when we come up for the winter. Erik says that should keep out anything uncanny, though it won’t go very far.”

“What is it, this magic that you’re doing?” Franz asked, the gray light of the cloudy day making his solemn face even graver.

“Calling on angels,” Samuel said before Toinette could. “So nothing that should alarm you too much.”

“No, I didn’t think… I don’t think you would traffic with demons,” Franz said with an apologetic look at Toinette. “Do they reply?”

“Not in so many words,” said Toinette. “If the spell works, that’s an answer. Actions speak loudest and all.”

In motions that had long become reflex, they drew strings tight and knotted them, tied the skins to their belts, and stood. Franz looked off into the woods. “You will laugh,” he said, “but I swear it… I hear voices.”

“I won’t laugh,” said Toinette. “I’ve heard a few of my own.”

“And I,” said Samuel. “In the wind, at night?”

“And my dreams,” said Franz.

“Aye,” Toinette agreed. “What do yours say?”

“I can’t remember my dreams, never could,” Samuel said, “and I’m glad for that. I’ve not heard many words from the waking ones. ‘You,’ maybe.”

“And ‘nichts.’ That’s ‘nothing’ in English. That they speak different languages is new.”

“Or we hear different,” said Toinette.

* * *

“You have nobody,” said the voice from around her.

“Pigshit. If I had nobody, I’d not have a horrible voice in my dreams, would I?”

“You have nobody. I am nobody. I am nothing. You are nothing.”

“Go to Hell.”

“Hell waits for you.”

“Now you’re a priest?”

“You are damned. You know this. They know this. They all know.”

“Piss off.”

“They fear you. They hate you. Every smile is a lie.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“He serves his master. You are no kin. He has his task.”

“Go away.”

“They let you live for fear. Nothing more. You’re not their captain. Never were. All a lie.”

“Go. Away.”

“No woman. No human. No soul.”

“Go away.”

“Damned. Monster. Devil. Misbred.”

“Go away!”