Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Ancrum
The Villagers Speak
Dar did not raise his voice, yet it carried as his gaze swept over the gathered villagers. “I seek a wanderer. Short and thick of build. He passed through this village recently.”
Villagers continued to remain silent.
“The other is a stranger who may have passed through Ancrum in the last several days. A man who was curious with questions, but one who did not linger.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd, then stilled.
Dar’s eyes narrowed slightly. “If you know something, you will tell me.”
A woman shifted near the back. A man glanced toward the road leading out of the village. Dar took note of both, but he said nothing more. He had learned long ago that silence often worked faster than threats.
His attention turned briefly to the sky. The sun had slipped lower, shadows lengthening across the village green. Dusk would not be long in coming.
“We will remain here tonight,” he announced. “I require a private cottage for my wife and myself. Rooms for five men as well.”
That, at least, stirred movement.
A village elder stepped forward, stiff-backed and wary. “There is a cottage near the east edge of the village. It has been empty since summer. You are welcome to use it.”
“It will do,” Dar said. “Your name.”
“Leith, sir.”
“Leith, you will show us to your meeting hall. Where your people gather, a place where those who have something to say can talk with me.”
Leith hesitated only a moment before nodding. “There is a common room near the center of the village. It is used for council matters and gatherings.”
“That will do,” Dar replied. “Food and drink will be brought there—for myself, my wife, and my men.”
Again, not a request.
Leith inclined his head and motioned for them to follow.
As they walked through the village, doors closed more firmly than before. Windows darkened. Whispers slipped through the air, low and urgent. Dar noted it all, filing away reactions, silences, glances that lingered too long.
Looks followed Elara, the three women she had just spent time with not taking their eyes off her. Guilt haunted her. She had not lied to them, but she had avoided the truth. Was that not just as bad?
They reached the common hall, and Dar sent two of his men in first to make certain no surprises awaited them.
He pressed his hand to the small of her back. “You are a brave woman, Elara. You did not weep, beg, or submit. I am proud to have you as my wife.”
She looked up at him, speechless. As foolish as it might sound, it felt as if he told her he loved her.
He leaned his head down. “But I will make certain you are never placed in such a precarious position again.”
Protect her, he would always protect her. But what would happen if a time came that he couldn’t? She did not worry so much for herself, but for what it would do to him. Protection was love to him and realizing that, her heart swelled with how much he loved her.
The door to the gathering hall opened and the two Hunters sent inside stepped out and to the sides and with his hand firm at her back, Dar eased his wife forward to enter.
He chose a table near the center of the hall, his back to the wall, the room in full view.
Elara settled beside him without hesitation.
His men took another table a short distance away, low voices, watchful eyes, while one remained stationed by the door, arms crossed, gaze fixed outward as if daring trouble to try its luck.
Food arrived quickly—stew, coarse bread, a pitcher of ale—set down with careful hands. No one lingered once it was placed before them.
Dar waited until the server had retreated before leaning slightly toward Elara. His arm brushed hers, needing to feel her safe beside him.
“Did you learn anything while you were among them?” he asked quietly.
She moved even closer until her arm pressed against his, wanting to feel his strength and warmth. “I told them I had heard a wanderer speak of fae folk being seen in the woods.” Her mouth tightened at the memory. “They grew upset. One warned me sharply not to repeat such talk.”
Dar’s gaze sharpened. “Upset how?”
“Afraid,” she said after a moment’s thought. “And angry. As if the words themselves were dangerous.”
He considered that, fingers curling around his cup. “Then perhaps it was not fear of rumor—but fear of truth.”
Elara blinked. “I had not thought of it that way.”
“People rarely fear lies,” he said. “They fear what might be uncovered if questions are asked.”
She studied him, seeing not only the Hunter, but the wisdom behind his hunts. “Then they may know more than they wish to admit.”
“Aye,” he said. “And we have given them reason to worry.”
The door creaked open.
Conversation in the room stilled at once.
A man stepped inside, middle-aged, broad through the shoulders, his cap clutched tight in his hands. He hesitated just inside the threshold, eyes darting to Dar’s men, then to Elara, then back again.
Dar did not move. He did not speak.
Silence did the work for him.
The man swallowed and took a few cautious steps forward. “You wish information about a wanderer.”
Dar inclined his head, just once. “I am listening.”
The man shifted his weight, cap twisting in his hands. “A wanderer came through Ancrum a few nights past. Short. Thick through the middle. Kept his hood up even indoors.” He hesitated, then added, “What struck me as odd was how quiet he was.”
Dar’s brow creased slightly.
“Wanderers are usually ready to spew a tale at the drop of a coin,” the man continued. “This one kept to himself. Drank his ale. Ate his bread. Said little, then moved on.”
“Which way did he go?” Dar asked.
The man shook his head. “I don’t know. He left before nightfall. I wasn’t watching for him.”
Dar studied him for a moment, then nodded once. “It is good you share this with me. You may go.”
Relief crossed the man’s face, and he wasted no time leaving.
For a stretch, no one stepped forward.
Then a young fellow lingered in the doorway as if uncertain he should enter at all. He kept his eyes lowered, his cheeks flushed, but he crossed the room when Dar’s gaze found him.
“You have something to say,” Dar stated.
The young man’s hands trembled. “A stranger came through days ago. Not a wanderer.” He rushed the words out, as if once they were spoken, they could not be taken back. “He asked about old paths.”
Dar’s expression did not change. “Old paths to where?”
The young man’s throat bobbed. “To Driochmor.”
Elara felt the room tighten at the name.
“He didn’t ask it openly,” the young man added quickly. “Not at first. He spoke like a man merely curious—like he was unfamiliar with the area and wanted to make sure he avoided the paths to the forbidden land.”
Dar’s voice stayed level. “What did he look like?”
“Taller than me. Wrapped in a dark cloak. His face… I didn’t see it well, his hood concealing much of it.” The young man frowned hard, trying to think of more. “His hands were lean and had a good grip on his tankard. It made me think he had strength to him.”
“You observe well,” Dar praised. “Which direction did he take when he left?”
The young man appeared pleased by the praise and was quick to offer more. “South. Toward the bend where the road forks. Away from the paths to the forbidden land.”
Dar nodded once. “You’ve done well. You may go.”
The young man bobbed his head, a slight smile surfacing as he hurried off.
A moment later, another villager stepped forward—older, broader through the shoulders, his stance cautious.
“I saw the wanderer the following morning,” he said. “He was on the road headed east.”
Dar’s eyes sharpened. “East toward where?”
“Toward Chieftain Pratus’s castle.”
A ripple of unease stirred through the room.
“He walked with purpose. Like he knew exactly where he was bound… straight for the castle.”
Dar absorbed that in silence and dismissed the man with a wave of his hand.
The man inclined his head and left, pulling the door shut behind him.
Dar, Elara, and his men were the only ones who remained, one Hunter still stationed by the door. No one had been allowed to enter without permission from Dar. No one had been allowed to linger to hear what was being said.
Dar leaned back slightly, fingers resting on the table. “A quiet wanderer who avoids company and makes his way toward Pratus’s castle. And a stranger asking after paths to Driochmor.” His gaze lifted to Elara. “Yet we have heard no talk of fae folk.”
Before she could answer, the door creaked open.
Vanessa stood there, her shawl drawn close, her lined face pale but resolved.
Elara leaned toward Dar. “That is Vanessa—the woman I spoke with earlier.”
Dar’s gaze shifted to the woman, assessing her.
Vanessa closed the door carefully behind her and, with a nod from Dar for her to approach, walked slowly to stop before the table.
“I did not wish to speak before the others,” she said quietly. “Some things are better left unsaid in a crowd.”
Dar’s voice was even. “Then say them now.”
Vanessa’s eyes flicked briefly to Elara, then returned to Dar. “You asked about wanderers and strangers. But that is not what troubles Ancrum most.”
“Tell me,” Dar ordered firmly.
“There are things moving in the woods again,” Vanessa said. “Things that have not shown themselves in a long while.” She drew a breath and folded her hands together, steadying herself. “I would not have spoken, not even now… if not for her.” She nodded toward Elara.
Dar did not interrupt.
“I watched you today,” Vanessa continued. “When Pratus laid hands on you. You did not cry out. You did not plead. You remained strong.” She smiled softly. “That takes courage and restraint.”
Elara felt heat rise in her cheeks at the unexpected praise but said nothing.
Vanessa went on. “If you can have such courage, then so can I.”
Dar saw the admiration in the older woman’s eyes that she had for Elara and was pleased she openly expressed it. His wife deserved it.