20. Aryn
Aryn
Late evening darkens around us, and as we search for a place to camp, the road passes by a farm.
Fields surround the single-story home, with a few kravache grazing behind fences.
They’re enormous creatures, similar in shape to elk but heavier with muscle and meat.
While they can be used for slaughter, they are more commonly raised for dairy and the coarse wool from their thick coats.
Crops are sparse, but through the gathering darkness I can make out rows of the cabbage-like lyrn in full bloom and tall stalks of rhavel beans winding up wooden trellises.
Raised beds and large barrel planters dot the grounds in haphazard patterns, though I can’t tell what else they might grow from here.
I turn to the others, my gaze lingering on Cato in the moonlight. “We need to stay silent through here. I know we were hoping to stop soon, but we can’t risk making camp this close to others.”
Cato watches me with a frown. “Are you okay to keep going?”
“We don’t really have a choice,” I answer with a strained smile. “But yes, I’ll be fine until we can put this place behind us.”
Ronan gestures toward the forest opposite the farm, a few hundred feet back from the road. “Let’s move off the path. We don’t want to be spotted under the moons.”
We fall back into our usual formation. Ronan leads with Lillith close behind him, while Cato and I bring up the rear. We’ve barely gotten off the road when a howl pierces the darkness, far closer than I’m comfortable with. Cato shifts nearer, his shoulder brushing mine.
“Scared of the doggy?” I whisper as I scout our surroundings.
“Nah, I’m not scared,” he whispers back. “Just making sure nothing attacks you again.”
“So noble of you.”
He flashes me a grin, some of his usual bravado returning in the dark. “Just another trait they’ll have to add to the stories of my bravery.”
“Unreal,” I mutter with a huff.
Another howl cuts through the night, much closer this time. “Ronan,” I hiss.
As if reading my mind, he breaks into a run, ordering the others to keep up as we rush to put distance between ourselves and the sound.
Wild, panting breaths gain on us far too quickly.
We’re not even halfway to the trees when two canine-like zarrok sprint past and wheel around to face us, fangs bared and fur bristling.
Ronan stops and flings his arms out, trying to shield the rest of the group behind him. More footsteps approach from behind, and Cato and I spin as one, weapons raised.
“Easy now,” a deep voice rumbles as a Khileon strides into view with two others following close behind.
He blows out a shrill whistle, and the beasts come to his side before dropping onto their haunches.
Low growls continue to vibrate from their throats, lips still peeled back in warning, but they obey the command.
Khileon are known for their size and strength, and the one in front is the largest I’ve ever seen. He’s as wide as Elas, though not quite as tall, and his pale green skin takes on a ruddy brown hue under the red light of the moons.
“What do we have here?” he demands, fingers flexing around the massive battle axe slung over his shoulder. “Trespassers? Thieves?”
I force calm into my voice and take a careful step forward, desperate to keep their attention fixed on me rather than on the humans. “Certainly not thieves, and if we are trespassing, it wasn’t intentional. We are not familiar with this area.”
His eyes dart between us, and I can only pray the humans have remembered to keep their faces hidden. I half-turn and see Cato staring up at the Khileon with his jaw clenched tight. The godsdamned brazenness is going to get him killed.
“Please accept our apologies,” I say, loud enough for my voice to carry through the night. “We mean no harm. We are only passing through on our way to my home in Maelithryne.”
A Khileon female steps up beside him, just as broad and only a few inches shorter. “You’re one of those monk sorts from the mountains?”
“I am,” I agree with a cautious smile. “If you know of my people, you know we are peaceful. We aren’t looking for trouble.”
“And the softskins?” she asks.
“Softskins?” I repeat, brows drawing together.
She nods toward Cato, then gestures at Cameron and Taryn. “We haven’t seen their kind in these parts in many years.”
“You…” I shake my head, trying to process the information. “You know of humans?”
“Well, sure,” she says, as if the answer should be obvious.
“Thulga,” the male beside her chastises, but she waves him off.
“Oh, hush, Grimhild. Mostly they stick to the bigger cities, but they are the curious sort, aren’t they? A few have wandered into these parts looking for adventure.”
“Adventure?” I ask.
“Sure, sure,” she continues, waving a hand down the path. “The Shal’vorynthar River runs north of here, and it’s become something of a local legend after the dirdira trees blessed a human.”
“Blessed?” I echo, apparently unable to form my own words as I attempt to piece hers together.
“Dirdira trees?” Ronan demands at the same time.
Cameron perks up at the word and makes a quiet, contemplative sound, apparently deciding these people are no longer an immediate threat. “Those are the ones you told me about, right?”
“They are,” Ronan agrees, shifting into English. “I wasn’t sure they’d survived the cold.”
Thulga hikes a brow at him, glancing between Ronan and Cameron. “You speak their language?”
“We do,” I explain with another tense smile. “But unfortunately, they do not speak ours.”
The male at the front—Grimhild—tightens his grip on his axe, while the one bringing up the rear watches him closely. I’ve seen the look enough to know he’s waiting for silent direction, but the way Grimhild casts a sideways glance at Thulga tells me she’s the one in charge.
“You’re a strange bunch, aren’tcha?” she asks after a long pause.
“Please,” I say, pulling the focus back to me, “accept our most sincere apologies if we were trespassing on your land. We had no ill intentions and only ask to continue on our journey.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Thulga says, taking a long stride forward. She’s so tall I have to tilt my chin to meet her eyes, and Cato tenses visibly as she draws closer. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
“We aren’t?” I repeat, my hand inching closer to my hilt. Beside me, Cato notices and slowly reaches for his weapon as well.
“Of course not! You’re going to stay with us tonight.”
“We… are?” I ask, brows pinching together as my hand goes slack.
She waves me off and whistles so loudly it makes my ears ring. The two zarrok trot obediently to her side, and after she snaps her fingers, their posture relaxes. “These roads are dangerous at night, and it’s freezing out here. You all look like you could use a hot meal and a proper night’s sleep.”
“What’s going on?” Cato demands beside me, half-poised to fight.
My eyes stay locked on the Khileon family as I answer him. “They’re inviting us to stay with them tonight.”
“Is that a good idea?” he asks.
“Oh, I think that sounds lovely!” Lillith chimes in. “I’m not fluent, so I wasn’t sure if they were inviting us inside or politely asking if we’d like to be sacrificed to the farm’s guardian spirit.”
I glance over my shoulder at her excited expression and shake my head. “They don’t seem to want to harm us. If they did, I suspect their guard dogs would’ve already attacked.”
“Or he would’ve swung that axe,” Cameron adds, “because damn. That’s huge.”
“We’ll be better prepared for the trading post if we can get information from them,” Ronan adds from the back. “They’ll know what’s happening in this part of the world.”
Thulga shifts her weight, uncomfortably close, but her face looks almost amused as she watches us speak. “Well?” she finally demands. “Are you going to turn down my offer?” Grimhild tightens his grip on his axe.
I flash her my calmest, most disarming smile. “Of course not. We’re honored by the invitation and humbled by your hospitality.”
She tilts her head. “You’re a sweet talker, huh?”
My lips curve into something more genuine. “Just being polite.”
“Well, come on then, let’s get you inside,” she says, turning and waving for us to follow. “Mezie, go put the beasties away and toss them a steak.” The second, silent male nods and whistles, and the two zarrok lope after him as he jogs toward a barn in the distance.
Thulga and Grimhild walk side by side, and we fall into line behind them. They lead us through a gate and toward the house, which up close is much larger than it first appeared.
“You have a beautiful property here,” I say as we walk.
The stone walls make it clear where new rooms and hallways have been added over time.
The central house is more sun-weathered, while the further wings are darker, with far fewer rainwater gullies on the rock’s surface.
Black, shimmering shale covers the roof in hand-cut shingles.
“Thank you,” Thulga says over her shoulder.
“This place has been in my family for generations. We grow what we need to survive, but our primary crop is vark.” She gestures toward a field closer to the treeline, and I can’t help the smile that tugs at my lips.
Vark is like the coffees and teas brewed by humans, rich in energy.
I used to have a cup every morning, and I haven’t tasted it since I crossed into the human lands.
Thulga glances across the rest of the fields, disappointment flickering across her face before she smooths it away. “The weather has been a burden on all of us. The harvests used to be far more plentiful, but we make do. I suppose we’re lucky in that regard.”