Silent Kingdom (15 page)

With a start I awoke, trembling from head to foot in my bed. Outside the wind was shrieking. Slipping from beneath the covers, I approached the window and shoved aside the curtains. Snow swirled in blankets of white past the house, almost masking my view of the tree outside my room. I shivered, not sure if it was more from the cold or my nightmare, and turned to tumble back into bed when I saw flickering candlelight outside my bedroom. Lyanna paused in the doorway, her long nightgown nearly covering her bare feet.

“Are you all right?” she whispered. “You were tossing and kicking in your sleep again.”

I blinked, and to my surprise I felt a tear snake down my cheek. Touching my hand to my face, I tried to brush it away as I nodded, but Lyanna broke the distance between us in a few easy strides. She set the candle on my nightstand and pulled me into an embrace. With a sigh I rested my forehead on her shoulder and inhaled the familiar, comforting scent of lavender soap. But Lyanna’s embrace couldn’t erase the guilt and fear weighing heavily on my heart.

How many more people had died at the king’s hand? The question persisted no matter how many times I tried to banish it. But still worse was another question, growing louder in my head with every passing hour:

What if Gillen was dead?

CHAPTER 9

T
he icy wind bit at my face and tore straight through my cloak no matter how closely I tried to wrap it around my body. I shivered miserably as I walked beside Avrik, trying to listen as he eagerly related Marke’s tale, not knowing that I already knew it all.

“I can hardly believe it,” he said. “Selna didn’t want word to get out about the king supposedly encouraging men to provoke them because of the controversy it would create.” He glanced over at me and I frowned in confusion. “She couldn’t keep people out forever when there were men who wanted to learn about the sedwa and decide if they are a threat to Evren. But I agree with her…none of the hunters in our village would be committing such a crime against the town. After all, they’d be endangering themselves. It’s not as if the king’s guards are here to protect us. I’m sure the sedwa attack whenever they are hungry like any other predator does. No one is
doing
this to us.” There was a firmness in his tone that I was not used to, an edge that cut through the air like a dagger and snapped my attention toward him.

Biting my lip, I rested my hand on his arm in what I hoped was a comforting gesture. He paused, his boots sinking into the snow as he turned to look at me. I stopped too, gazing up into his dark, troubled eyes.

“Everyone will be accusing my father…” he said.

In response, I patted his arm feebly until he moved away. For one moment I was hurt and glanced down in embarrassment. Then his arms were around me, pulling me into an embrace. I forgot about the cold as I basked in his warmth, forgot even what we’d been talking about while we stood there, silent. He held me long enough for me to wonder if he could feel my heart pounding against his chest. “Thank you for believing that he is innocent,” he murmured in my ear. “Sometimes it seems like no one else does.”

He released me as abruptly as he had hugged me, leaving my head spinning.
Get a grip, you fool.

We continued to trudge through the snow toward the schoolhouse. It still seemed distant in the vast white landscape, tucked snugly among the hills. The wind stung my cheeks as I thought about how quickly my trips here were drawing to a close. Then Lyanna would have me helping her at home full time, expecting suitors to show up at her door over the next few years and whisk me away to a new life. I frowned at the thought and promptly dismissed it, as I always did. Somehow I couldn’t see the village boys finding a mute wife particularly appealing when it came to practical tasks, such as raising children.

And maybe those practical tasks don’t appeal to me anyway.
Having a family someday was not something I was against—but being trapped in a life revolving around baking and sewing sounded like a nightmare.

“Elena?”

I snapped my head back to Avrik, who was walking slowly by my side, studying my face with a bemused expression.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

Smiling sheepishly, I admitted my mind had been wandering with a reluctant shake of my head.

“I was saying after school, Bren and Shilam wanted to do some target practice. Do you think Lyanna will miss you if you aren’t home right away for your sewing or baking lessons?”

I rolled my eyes at his mocking tone, but my smile gave away what he already knew: I agreed with him. Even after several years of attempts, no amount of patience, prodding, or stern lectures could prompt my interest in the chores Lyanna offered. My stitches were passable; my food at least edible, but polishing them beyond minimally functional skills taught by necessity would never excite me. More than once I’d watched Lyanna throw up her hands, sigh, and dramatically proclaim that I was hopeless as Avrik or Bren arrived at the door to rescue me from domestic responsibilities. She would have been a little more convincing if a smile didn’t tug at her lips every time.

I considered Avrik’s invitation with mixed emotions. Ever since I’d listened to Marke’s story, my memory of the sedwa, with its glowing eyes fixed on me, had prowled through my head. The thought of being even closer to the woods made my pulse quicken. On the other hand, I’d never heard of the sedwa attacking anyone outside of the forest, and the idea of escaping Lyanna’s endless chores even for an extra hour or two was always tempting.

Shrugging, I let Avrik arrive at the answer I couldn’t vocalize for him. “She’ll mind…but not that much…if you’re not too late.” He broke into a boyish grin. “No worries; no one in the village will want us out too late near the forest now with those rumors.” A slight shadow passed over his face again, but he fought it off this time. “Bren’s and Shilam’s mothers will panic and I’m sure Lyanna would too if we stayed out very long. We can walk back to my house after school and we won’t go far.”

I sighed, wishing I could tell him that the threat was real. It wouldn’t be long before he and his father spent another long day within the woods to track and hunt, and though I could not stop them, I wanted them to use caution. Once we reached the schoolhouse, I would have to write down a message, something that would warn him and his father. But if he refused to believe what he’d heard about Marke’s tale from others, would he even believe me?

We reached the schoolhouse as Teacher was opening the door and trudged in line behind the other students. I slid into my seat beside Avrik and pulled my journal and pencil from my pack. Quickly, I scrawled words across an empty page:
Rev and I visited Marke last night, and I think his story is true. You probably would have believed it too if you had heard it from his own mouth. I only want you to be careful.

When I brushed my journal onto Avrik’s desk, I watched his eyes scan the page and a frown crease his forehead. He glanced over at me and carefully mouthed, “You believe too?”

I scrambled to take my journal back and write:
There’s surely a reason why this rumor came about and why Marke was attacked
.
It doesn’t make your father guilty, or anyone else in Evren. Perhaps the hunters are men from other towns near the forest and mountains. Maybe they are even from Vorvinia.

He caught my eyes again; his expression difficult to read. Was that fear? Did he trust me or was he concerned that I might give credence to the rumors about his father? I could not tell.

~ ~ ~

Stretching back the bowstring, I held it to my cheek and gazed down the length of my strung arrow toward the wooden target Avrik had set up in his yard. In my mind, I imagined setting the arrow free and watching it soar across the yard, arcing in its path, and slamming into the target.
A little to the right, because of the wind
, I thought. I shifted my bow slightly to compensate for the steady easterly breeze and then let it fly. I held my breath as it zipped through the air and buried itself in the red bull’s-eye Avrik had painted on the target.

I glanced toward Avrik, who smirked back at me in a silent challenge. “Good luck, Bren,” he said as Bren stepped forward to take my place.

“Splendid,” Bren said with a sigh. “Could we hold a harvesting competition next? Come out to our fields next autumn and we will see who gathers the most crops the fastest.”

Shilam and Avrik chuckled.

“On with it!” Avrik said.

“Don’t take all day,” Shilam added.

Almost without thinking, I glanced toward the woods as Bren strung an arrow to his bow and took aim. A cold breeze stirred through the bare branches and made me shiver. Shadows were beginning to stretch across the snow and I knew I couldn’t stay out much longer. Who knew what could happen at night, at the edge of the forest? I blinked and tried to focus on Bren’s shot. His struck further from the bull’s eye than mine.

“Too bad,” Shilam teased. “Maybe next time.”

Bren shrugged and smiled at me sheepishly. “Defeated again.”

Avrik shuffled forward to take his place.

“Maybe we should remove the arrows so you don’t strike any,” Shilam said, but Avrik waved him away. Everyone knew he would hit the target dead on. I could count on one hand the number of times I had seen him miss: three, exactly the number of times I had bested him in our shooting competitions, and one more time than he’d ever defeated me. I smiled at the thought.

The breeze strengthened, tugging wavy strands of hair in front of my face. With an impatient move I brushed them back. Was it my imagination, or had I heard something? My eyes darted back toward the trees.
Of course it is your imagination. Even if a sedwa was there, you would not hear it
. I squeezed my eyes shut, then looked back at Avrik as he yanked the bowstring back and released his arrow. It soared easily toward its mark, splitting my arrow to take its place.

Bren and Shilam clapped and cheered.

Again, I was too preoccupied to partake in the excitement. An uneasy sense that we were being watched flooded over me, and I turned to search the woods again. My heart throbbed against my chest but I saw nothing—no eyes stared back at me. Yet. I knew it was time to leave; it was too late to be this close to the forest and not expect trouble.

“Looks like a draw between Avrik and Elena,” Bren said. “Again.”

“I haven’t shot yet!” Shilam protested.

I strode over to Avrik and grasped his arm. Frowning, he glanced down at me, reading my expression as only he could do. “Already?” he sighed. Then his countenance hardened. “You really are afraid, aren’t you? How can you believe—?”

Bren cut him off. “Avrik, do not be angry with her. There’s no harm in being careful. She’s not accusing your father of anything by believing Marke’s story.”

Avrik cringed and spun toward him. “Do you believe it?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I think there could be something to it—but you know I trust your father. Those who truly know him do not place their faith in the town gossip about him.”

“Not many people like my father, and you know it,” Avrik said. I could hear a slight tremor to his voice.

Shilam broke in. “That is only because he has kept to himself. People will spread their gossip—let them. Those who matter don’t believe it. You needn’t be so defensive.”

Avrik’s eyes were fiery. “How would you behave if it were your father being accused of…of
murder
?” he spat.

“We’re not the ones—” Bren began, but a dark form launched from the woods and cut his words short.

Somehow Avrik saw the sedwa a second before it leapt on him. He stumbled backward, avoiding the sedwa’s pounce and collapsing in the snow with the creature snarling down at him. Stringing an arrow to my bow, I inhaled deeply to steady my aim and shot for one of the sedwa’s golden eyes. As I released the arrow, the creature sprang again and I pierced one of its paws instead. Avrik kicked, his booted leg driving into the sedwa’s midsection and working its momentum against it so that it flew backward. It rolled in the snow, snarling and leaving a trail of slick black blood behind it.

My mouth was dry and my limbs were shaking. On either side of me, Shilam and Bren were fumbling for arrows, still grasping what was happening. Only Avrik, his years of hunting honing him for moments such as these, seemed to be fully in control of mind and body as he jumped smoothly to his feet and drew another arrow, his eyes never leaving the sedwa. Growling, it staggered to a crouch and began slinking backward toward the shadows of the forest. In the growing darkness, all I could see was a mass of black fur and scales and shimmering golden eyes trained on Avrik.

There was a breathless minute in which Shilam, Bren, and I were motionless, unable to react as the sedwa and Avrik stared each other down. Then, with an angry cry, Avrik charged.

My throat constricted and I longed to be able to shout out. My brain screamed instead:
Avrik, you fool! It’s still dangerous!

He pounded through the snow, chasing the sedwa as it slunk back, eying him with hatred and preparing for another strike. Shilam and Bren were firing now, but the beast darted past the tree line and their arrows fell useless. Avrik disappeared into the forest after the sedwa.

“Avrik! What are you doing?” Shilam shouted. He strung another arrow to his bow and chased after his friend.

Bren and I scrambled after them, my pulse pounding so loudly as I sprinted into the woods that I could hardly hear anything else.

Somewhere ahead, the sedwa’s snarls echoed off the trees. Then another cry rang through the night: a sound that sent shudders through my body. It was a voice almost more familiar than my own, so long had it been since I had been able to speak.
Avrik.

It’s too late; it’s too late
. The thought pounded through my head viciously with every pump of my legs, every gasp for air. Bare twigs reached for my face and scratched my cheeks. I stumbled through snow and mud and over roots jutting up in my path. I wasn’t sure which way I was running or if I was still going in the direction from which Avrik’s cry had come, but I didn’t dare slow. My bow weighed heavily in my hand yet my grip remained firm. Somewhere beside me Bren was charging through the trees, but I was only vaguely aware of his presence. Panic had overtaken my every thought. My friend was gone, or soon would be.

I plunged through a tangle of underbrush and stumbled into a clearing to see a form ahead. He was huddled at the edge of the clearing, and I couldn’t make out his face in the darkness. I wished I could say his name, say anything, but I stood there gasping for breath and half-afraid to step nearer. Where was the sedwa? I glanced up at the sound of rustling and saw Bren dash around from the opposite end of the clearing, closer to the still figure.

“Elena? Bren?” It was Shilam’s voice quavering in the darkness.

My emotions unleashed in a strange mixture of relief and fear. Shilam was alive, but where was Avrik?

“What happened?” Bren asked, kneeling before Shilam. He scanned the trees warily before laying his bow at his feet and reaching out to his friend.

“I don’t think I am badly wounded, but Avrik…he’s still out there with that…that monster…”

“Let me see it. I think you will be all right but we need to staunch the blood flow…”

My own thoughts drowned out Bren’s voice. I felt my fingers fastening around my bow as courage mixed with fear and adrenaline coursed through my being. I broke into another sprint, tearing through the forest, away from the sound of Shilam’s and Bren’s voices.