Exiles of Forlorn (26 page)

He looked at me. “You understand this, Lew Standwell. I can tell it in the way you speak of your own family.” He took another drink. “I met your father once, you know?”

My eyes widened. “You did?”

“Lord Olune Standwell III.” He shook his head. “I found him as insufferably arrogant and self-important as most of the lords, dukes, and barons in my father’s court.”

I nodded and looked out at the sea. “Well, you’ll be happy to know he hasn’t changed much.” We laughed together.

“I like you, Lew. You remind me rather of myself at your age.”

I took the compliment, even though it was far from the truth. I’d never have been brave enough to abandon my home for another world. I’d only done so because I had no choice. Though, we did have some things in common. We were both great disappointments to our families, and for the same reason: absconding from a responsibility foisted upon us by our birth. I suppose that was mitigated by the wealth into which we’d been born, but that was the only life I’d known until then, so I didn’t feel particularly privileged by it.

“I know why you’re here, too, Lew Standwell. You’re seeking the treasure of
Xanas Muir
.” My mouth went dry and fell open. I tried to hide my surprise, but he read me as easily as he saw the sun. “You think you’re the first to come here looking for that old place?” He chuckled. “We get a new band of adventurers every two years or so who trek into the forest, never to be heard from again. You’re markedly different in that you chose to live among us for some time; even doing us a service by building that wall.”

“How did you─?”

“Sharkhart has light feet, despite his height. He saw you sketching that map you draw every night. Ferun recognized the symbol on Reiwyn’s hip from a design he’d seen in drawings brought by previous treasure hunters.”

I grimaced at that. I didn’t particularly care for thinking about Ferun looking upon Reiwyn’s bare flesh so intimately.

“When he described it, I knew you must have met Roren Fullstag himself. He was the last to hold that disc, and knew the spells necessary to imbed it in her skin. I’m glad I didn’t share that knowledge with Ferun. Knowing what I do of him now, I fear he might have carved it from her and tortured you and your friends for information before trekking off on his own.”

“You know of Roren Fullstag?”

“Of him? I knew the man. I would imagine he was in much better health than when you met him. I assume he died on the voyage, elsewise you wouldn’t have been entrusted with his legacy. Anyway, he lived among the Tallfolk with me for a time, though he never knew who I was. Did you know that Sharkhart’s people are originally from here? It’s true. They fled across the Great Sea in canoes just under a thousand years ago to escape the gluttons. Coming to this place with me was something of a homecoming for him.”

I stared at him in shock.

“You’ve perhaps a month left before winter comes and freezes the passage to the Sentinel. Once you’ve passed that, you’ll find a jungle. Sharkhart and I explored it upon our first arrival, and found it most inhospitable. If you make it that far, I wish you better luck than we had.

“I won’t prevent you from leaving, of course. All who come to Forlorn are here of their own volition. I won’t ask more of you, either. What you’ve done for us, what you have continued to do, is more service than I ever could have expected. Your wall is a testament to your goodness, Lew Standwell.”

I shrugged, dumbstruck. I hadn’t really thought of the wall like that. For me, it was more to prove it could be done, and to make Reiwyn happy. If she’d not come into my life, I doubt I would have ever considered it my obligation to build it. Still, it felt nice to be recognized for something I’d done of my own free will, rather than because it was expected of me from birth.

We took a few moments of silence, staring out at the sea as it folded and rolled against the beach, turning the white sand beige beneath its foamy edges. After a time, I looked back at our fellows. Uller was practicing walking with a stick, while Gargath followed close behind in case he fell. Blackfoot ran up and made a movement as though to trip him, running away as the mage cursed in his wake. Reiwyn laughed, a songbird’s melody that carried over the crash of waves to my ears. Sharkhart stood halfway between us, watching me carefully.

“We should get underway,” Arn said finally, cupping me on the shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me, as I trust mine is with you?” I nodded. “Then it is fair. Come, let’s get the others. We’ve lingered far too long.”

I followed Arn down the beach, my shoulders feeling the weight of what I now knew.

24.

“W
hat is it?” I asked.

“They’re ruins,” replied Front-Strider.

I groaned. “I can see they’re ruins. But of what?”

He shrugged as Arn and Sharkhart emerged from one of the bare stone buildings that jutted from the overgrown forest. “We’ll camp here,” said the Sand King when they rejoined us on the beach.

“Are they safe?” asked Uller, leaning on his walking staff. I was actually a bit impressed with him. Being hobbled hadn’t slowed him much. I supposed he hadn’t wanted to show more weakness in front of Reiwyn, though she hadn’t shown him any more affection since the arrow extraction than usual. Perhaps she wasn’t the one he meant to impress? How flattered Zin would be to learn her champion had been wounded in her rescue, but refused to let that deter his spirit.

“As safe as any other place along this road,” replied Arn.

“But they’re uninhabited, right?”

I laughed and patted Uller’s back. “Come on.” The sun was falling and night was creeping ever closer. We’d trekked around the eastern coast and turned north several hours ago. The chilled wind that blew from the north was stronger here, not buttressed by the mountains or cliffs. I welcomed the idea of resting beside a wall, even if it was ancient and root covered like these.

Sharkhart built a fire in one of the larger central buildings while Blackfoot and I spent the remaining moments of daylight searching the accessible parts of the ruins. We found several sets of stone stairs leading up the side of the hill onto which the ruins had been constructed. I ran my fingers along the volcanic rocks that made up the walls of rough stone bricks mortared together with beige clay, some still standing, others toppled. I knew from my own scavenging for rocks that stones this size didn’t occur naturally close to the sea. The previous inhabitants must have brought them down from the volcanic slopes of the Sentinel, an impressive chore for any culture, much less a savage one.

“Whose ruins are these?” I asked Arn during our meal.

“I told you before that Sharkhart’s people were descended from the first human inhabitants of this place. This was one of their villages. Amazing, isn’t it?”

I nodded and gazed back at the ruins above us. I understood why Arn had chosen not to build the colony here. This place lacked the rocky wall of sharp sea rocks and cliffs that abutted the colony from the sea, making it vulnerable to attacks from pirates and other ship-borne aggressors. It was also closer to Drullcove, making it doubly unsafe.

After we’d finished our meal of dried jerky and some roots Front-Strider had collected from the forest, Arn handed out watch assignments. Uller was excused from watch for his injury, and promptly curled up under his cloak and blanket to sleep. I got the unenviable second watch of our eight hour allotment for sleep, which meant I had to sleep two hours, stay awake for two, then struggle to sleep for four more.

I awoke when Landis shook me. Wrapping my fleece around my shoulders, I stumbled around the fire and took up my place next to the broken wall for my watch. I passed the time sketching my map on the ground. I was halfway through it when something passed on the edges of my sight, something white that moved without a sound. I lifted my head with a start, but it was gone.

My heart pounded as I scanned the darkness around the borders of the campfire light. I stared for I wasn’t sure how long, letting out a sigh when convinced it had just been my imagination. That was when I saw it: a glowing form, vaguely that of a man, floating gently from one dilapidated building to another. Without thinking, I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand clutched over it and pulled me back.

“Shhh . . . ,” whispered a familiar voice. “Do not alarm the others. They won’t hurt us.” I turned my eyes as far back as I could and saw Sharkhart behind me, clutching me to his chest. He held me until the glowing form vanished behind a wall of ruins. He gave me a look that said he would let me go and slowly released me from his grasp. He crawled around and sat next to me by the fire as though nothing had happened.

“What are they?” I broke a tense silence.

“Spirits. Ancestors of my people who stayed behind and fell to the foul magic of the gluttons.”

“The gluttons use magic?”

Sharkhart nodded. “They were once perhaps a nobler race, but they turned to the worship of a fell Daeva of rot and decay. Now, they are accountable only to their wanton hunger.”

I sat in silence, staring into the darkness after any new spirits. There was no way I was getting any more sleep. Even with Sharkhart’s assurances. “I wish you’d told us this place was haunted before we made camp here.”

“That is precisely why we chose this place. The gluttons fear it. They have no power over the spirits, and will not enter the ruins. We are safe here, wall builder.”

I focused my breathing and tried to bring calm, but I knew there was no way I’d feel safe around spirits. I thought maybe I should awaken Gargath. He would probably enjoy this, being in a haunted ruin. Sharkhart was a statue of serenity, staring into the fire as if he found guidance there. I knew the Tallfolk worshipped Daevas of fire; perhaps he saw them in the flames. I looked as well, but all I found was a glowing pile of logs licked by dancing yellow flame.

“Arn! Arn!” Blackfoot came running out of the woods. Arn lifted his hand to stop our march. Uller and I took advantage of the reprieve to rest and catch our breath. “I’ve found them!” Arn leaned down to talk to him when he caught up to him and Sharkhart. A few second later, he turned and walked back to us on the beach.

“Blackfoot has found the Scumdogs and Zindet.”

“That is good!” said Uller, using his walking stick to stand upright.

Arn gave us a serious look. “They’ve been captured by gluttons.”

“They have a camp just over the ridge in the trees,” added Blackfoot. “I counted three of them. They have Zindet and two Scumdogs tied up.”

“It was three that took her,” said Reiwyn.

“I guess they already et’ one.”

“What about Ferun?” I asked. Blackfoot shook his head. It made sense he would be too clever to get caught by gluttons.

“We’ve got to go get her,” said Uller, no small amount of trepidation in his voice. He knew as well as any of us that abandoning her to the gluttons was worse than leaving her with the Scumdogs, so we had little choice.

Following Blackfoot’s lead, we crept through the dense forest, around boulders and downed trunks, mindful of dry leaves and branches as we crept up on the dull-witted giants. We smelled their camp before we saw it. When we did see it, I could barely look upon it. They’d hollowed out a clearing and sat in the center of it, three lumpy skinned beasts around a smoking black fire full of freshly stripped bones. Two were fat and one was thin and tall; I recognized the burns on his face and chest. A glance at Uller followed by a knowing nod showed that he recognized him too.

Blackfoot pointed at a clump of three bodies tied together next to one of the fat gluttons. They were covered with slimy black ropes, but I saw a shock of red hair sticking out from under one of the strands. Squinting, I made out patches of freckled skin in some of the gaps, straining under the knots as she breathed.

Arn turned back to us. “We have to fight them.”

I had feared he would say that. Quickly, we gathered around as he went over the particulars of the attack. My place in it didn’t require me to move around the camp as it did for Efrot and Sharkhart. They crept away into the trees and moved to the other side of the camp. Reiwyn and Front-Strider climbed trees while Arn and Landis prepared to dive into the clearing. The rest of us held back, and Uller crushed some herbs into powder in a little wooden bowl with a pestle. When his concoction was finished, he wrapped a smelly green powder in a small bladder.

“Can you make me faster, like before?” I asked.

Uller shook his head. “I don’t have the right ingredients for that one.”

“A pity . . .”

Arn raised his hand and held it there, and for a moment, I thought he might be hesitating. Then he dropped it, and we heard the twang of a bowstring and the clank of crossbow arms. An arrow struck a fat glutton in the back of the neck, causing him to howl in surprise. Front-Strider’s bolt took the other fat glutton under the eye; it staggered as it rose, dumbstruck but aware enough to grab his club.

We charged over the ridge, screaming and making the most terrible racket we could. The tall, skinny one with the burns spun on his heels and brought his club around, striking Landis across the chest as he roared. Landis flew back and slammed into a tree, breaking open his skull before he collapsed to the ground, motionless.

Arn dodged a swing from the one with the arrow in his neck and lashed forward with his cutlass. He left a shallow cut across its fat belly, but that barely slowed it. Sharkhart and Efrot joined the fight from the other side, the former lashing out with his whip while the latter raised his axe and charged with a scream. Blackfoot and I ran around the fighting to the prisoners and started cutting away at the ropes.

Uller faced off against the scarred glutton. I could tell from the exchanged looks that he recognized the mage. He raised his club with one hand and roared in Uller’s face. This time, Uller did not waver. I supposed he was prepared for it this time. When the club came down, he stepped briskly aside and tossed the bladder of green powder into the fire while the glutton pounded dirt. He raised his hand as the flames spiraled into the air, taking on the general shape of his hand. Then, as though directing it with his motions, he whipped the column of fire about and brought it down on the tall glutton from behind. The flames engulfed his screaming body.