Chapter 9 #2
And based on the stories, Ellinore the Brave wouldn’t allow the chance of boiling alive to deter her from taking the faster route. Ellinore the Brave would go left. I swallowed. “We… need to conserve every minute.” I tugged Bluebell’s reins. “We’ll take the left fork.”
The line of Aven’s shoulders went taut and their jaw clenched, almost as if they weren’t expecting that decision. Though they nodded in acquiescence.
“Come on,” I said. I didn’t have time to decipher Aven. “Let’s go.”
We rode for several more hours, until the day turned to dusk. The Melting Peaks rose in the distance in front of us, the tops covered by a thick smog, a mixture of ash and smoke spitting from the cratered summit of the tallest peak.
“We’ll have to cross the Simmer to enter Ashin,” Aven said as we walked our horses down the overgrown dirt road, giving them a break.
“I know. We should stop for the night,” I said. The sun was well below the horizon, only a few minutes of light left in the day. “We don’t want to try to traverse it in the dark.”
Aven nodded. “Agreed.”
“Oh, thank the ancients,” Zig said. He hugged Carrot’s neck, hunched over the pommel of the saddle. “I think my legs fell off a few leagues back.”
Aven huffed a laugh as we guided the horses and Carrot toward the forest, away from the main thoroughfare.
It was dangerous to camp too close to the road at night, even as untraveled as it was.
We found a nice clearing right on the edge of the wooded area, with a barrier of trees between us and the path.
The cluster of trees to our back wasn’t as deep as the Dark Wood, but it was dense all the same.
I was glad we didn’t venture farther in, as I felt a tingle at the base of my skull warning me that something lurked within.
Zig slid from Carrot in a heap, his legs giving out beneath him. He plopped over into the soft carpet of the forest floor, lying on his back and stretching out his limbs. “What is the Simmer, by the way? And why do we have to cross it?”
I dismounted, hopping to the soft layer of pine needles. “It’s a river fed by hot springs on the way to Ashin.”
“That sounds wonderful,” Zig said with a groan.
“That would boil your flesh right off,” Aven added as they tied their stallion to a nearby tree.
“Less wonderful, then.”
“There are a few remaining bridges we can use to cross.” I was sure there was at least one left. There had to be. I hadn’t traveled to Ashin in years, and the last time, the Simmer didn’t exist. But the road I’d chosen wasn’t completely overgrown. Someone still had to travel this way. Maybe.
“Come on, Zig,” Aven said, dropping their saddlebags to the ground. “Let’s find kindling before it gets too dark.”
“Don’t go far,” I cautioned as they set out. “Stay within eyesight. I don’t want any of us lost.”
“Yes, lead adventurer. Noted,” Zig said, flashing a grin.
By the time we made camp and had a cheerful fire flickering, the deep dark of the night had spread over the world, the sky dotted with stars and the three sister moons.
The mounts were tied off a few feet away, nibbling on a smattering of saplings they’d found.
After a quick dinner of provisions, Zig promptly fell asleep in his bedroll.
He wasn’t accustomed to the rigors of travel like Aven and I were.
Aven sat next to me on a log, tossing twigs into the fire, while I leaned back on my elbows and stared at the sky. One of the moons hung waxing, dappling the world in a glowing silver and blue, while the other two shone as slivers.
“If we leave at dawn,” I said, “we’ll make Ashin before nightfall.”
Aven hummed lowly. “Then we can find the eyewitness.”
An owl hooted in the distance.
“Should we set up a watch?” they asked.
I tipped my head to respond, but my breath caught at the way the flames cast light and shadow across Aven’s profile, splashing reds and oranges across their fair skin, playing along the sharp edge of their jaw.
I must have stared for too long without answering, because they turned toward me, their eyebrows raised.
“Ellinore?” Aven asked.
“Huh?”
“A watch?”
“Oh!” I started, then looked away and cleared my throat.
“Sure. A watch would be good,” I said, voice only slightly strangled.
“I’ll go first, and I’ll wake you when I start to feel tired.
But it might be a while, since I’m used to questing alone and don’t sleep much.
” That was mostly true. Sometimes Dave would stick around after he helped and allow me to sleep, pressed against his warm side, but that was only when we were certain he wouldn’t be seen. Otherwise, I fended for myself.
Aven sighed heavily.
“What?” I snapped at them. Probably unfairly, but I was annoyed and tired and had been caught… staring. “Does that plan not suit you?”
“It was nothing.”
“That sigh was not nothing. What’s wrong?”
Aven squirmed on the log. “Well, uh…” They cleared their throat. “I haven’t stayed awake the entire night before.”
I laughed. “Yeah, right. We completed the same quests. We were alone and out in the wilds for days, you must have…”
Their ears reddened.
“You didn’t?” I squeaked with indignation. Were Aven’s deeds as suspect as my own? Were they not the pinnacle of rule-following royalty?
Aven winced, nose wrinkling. “I’m royal. I never go anywhere alone. I always had a bodyguard. But I completed the tasks myself!”
I held up my hands. “I wasn’t going to say otherwise.”
“Yes. You were.”
I grinned, because I had thought about it but bitten my tongue. I may have been a jerk and a liar, but I drew the line at hypocrite. Well, that wasn’t quite true, but semantics.
“Wait. You were by yourself at my house.”
Aven broke a stick. “The king sent me and knew I would be with you.” They shrugged. “That seemed to be enough for my uncle.”
“Wow. The king of Avoury thinks I’m good enough to protect the precious princet,” I crowed. “I’m bodyguard material. The Crown trusts me with one of their own!”
Aven scowled. “You know, I could do without the arrogance.”
“I’m not here to please—”
A twig snapped in the distance.
I shot up from my sprawl into a crouch. Aven tensed at my side. It could be nothing.
My ears strained as the forest went still but no further sound followed.
My shoulders relaxed, and I released the breath I’d held.
A rustle of leaves broke the silence, sounding much closer than the first disturbance. It was followed by a flap of cloth, then a quiet murmur. Another crack in the bracken, and the hair of my arms rose on end.
I exchanged a quick look with Aven, who gave a nod. I went for my sword. They went for their bow and slid an arrow from the nearby quiver.
Whatever was out there was approaching our camp and had either given up on the pretense of being quiet or was awful at sneaking around the woods in the dark.
“We should check it out,” Aven whispered at the same time I said, “We need to leave.”
Aven’s mouth flattened. “Leave?”
Wait, oh no. That was obviously not what Ellinore the Brave would do. She would totally check out the strange noises in the dark and brave the creepy forest. Yes. That’s right, she would suck it up and face whatever was out there with her sword and her sense of righteousness. Or whatever.
“I mean,” I said with a shrug, “I should check it out.” I jerked my head to the side.
“I’ll go this way, and you stay here.” If I was going to don the Ellinore the Brave mantle, I couldn’t let Aven join me.
They would inevitably see the truth, and then they’d leave and report back to the king.
There would be dungeons involved. I couldn’t let that happen.
Aven frowned. “Stay here? No. I’m coming with you.”
“Look,” I said quietly, “as we established before this jamboree, I’m the leader. I go. You stay. End of conversation.”
“That’s ridiculous. I can help you. You know I can.”
“You know all those ballads are about Ellinore the Brave, not Ellinore and her band of merry cohorts. I work alone.”
They blinked. “Are you serious?”
I didn’t have time to argue. “Do what you want, then. I’m going this way.”
“Fine. I’ll go that way.”
“Fine.”
Aven gave a sharp, aggravated nod, then they crept to the right.
I went to the left, sword drawn. Aven melted into the shadows of the trees, arrow nocked, and I did my best to step softly as I moved away from the fire.
I paused after ducking behind a tree, allowing my eyes to adjust to the darkened forest barely lit by the moons above, then slowly inched toward the sounds.
My hands were tight around the hilt of my sword, palms sweaty.
Treading lightly, I went deeper, until my own fire was a flicker of orange between the trees behind me.
The farther I went, the more the forest quieted. Not even my own steps or my harsh breaths reached my ears. The area was blanketed in a cloud of silence, almost as if it was magic.
I immediately tensed. Crap. It was magic. It had to be.
I straightened from my hunch and looked for Aven, hoping to spy them through the trunks of the trees and the drape of vines, but they weren’t there.
I dropped the tip of my sword, knowing that hostility was no way to approach a magical being, if that was what I was dealing with, but I kept a tight grip on the hilt just in case.
I drew on my years of questing and the authority I usually faked when in such situations, and cleared my throat. “I know you’re out there,” I called, though the dampening magic made it sound like a whisper.
A flicker of twilight-blue light appeared to my left, emerging from a hole in a tree, and flew toward me. A forest faery. I should’ve known.
“Hello,” she said, voice high and tinny. While not an ancient like Dave, and certainly not a primordial like the Elder Beast, a faery still possessed potent magic for a folklore.