“Good.” He advanced on the trees, footfalls muted on the damp earth. Stopping but a few paces away, he raised his voice. “Who hides there?”

  Silence.

  Sofia nudged him. He’d spoken Anaskari. “Show yourself,” he said, this time in Braonn.

  A rustling, then two small figures emerged from behind the trunk.

  Two Braonn children. They moved with hands at their backs. Both wore muted greens and browns. No purple or pink. Notch lowered but didn’t sheathe his blade. Each boy cast frequent glances at Sofia’s mask.

  Notch motioned for her to speak. His accent might trouble them.

  “Were you watching us before?”

  The boys looked at each other a moment. Neither seemed inclined to answer.

  Sofia removed her mask. “Were you playing perhaps?”

  Upon seeing her face they relaxed. The taller boy nodded and the other smiled. “Yes. We play here often.”

  “In the Autumn Grove, all alone?”

  One of the boys frowned. “Autumn Grove?”

  “Yes. This place.” She gestured to the trees.

  The boys conferred, then gave an answer that had the sound of Braonn, but were not words he knew. Sofia hesitated a moment before continuing. Had she understood? “And when you play here, do you ever see other people like us?”

  They nodded.

  “Recently?”

  Two more nods.

  “What happened?”

  The boys giggled, edging away. Notch pounced, but they scattered. Their bare feet kicked up wet leaves as they ran, and he’d barely taken a step after them before they disappeared into the trees.

  “Did they seem to move too fast?” Sofia asked.

  He scratched at his beard. “I thought I was close enough to touch them, but here, who knows?”

  Sofia replaced Argeon. “Well they know something.”

  “I don’t like our chances of catching them.”

  “They might have seen Father.”

  He sheathed his sword. “Or they might be toying with us. I’m not sure, Sofia. You feel it too; there’s something odd about the Grove.”

  She hesitated.

  “We don’t have any proof those children saw Danillo.” He didn’t mention the flash of colour from before. It didn’t mean anything. Probably imagined it anyway.

  “They might have witnessed the fight back there.”

  He waved to the trees. “We’ll never find them. Even if we did, they probably wouldn’t understand our questions. Were they speaking a Braonn dialect? It didn’t sound exactly familiar.”

  “Part of it I couldn’t follow.”

  “Who knows how much they really understood from you? And your father wouldn’t have followed them either. I doubt he ever saw them, being chased as he was.”

  “True.”

  “Let’s eat for now. In Avaon there might be word. If not there, somewhere else.”

  “You’re probably right.” Sofia turned back to the horse. Notch followed, casting another glance over his shoulder. The trees were empty.

  ***

  After a long night at watch, and another cold meal beneath scant shelter of the only fallen branches in half a mile of the Grove’s edge, Notch was once again trudging along beside Swift.

  The rain had stopped, and a winter sun peered from the clouds. It did nothing to warm the forest but the light was natural again. Upon crossing the Grove’s threshold into the evergreens, tension flowed from his muscles.

  By noon, they reached the outskirts of Avaon, the largest settlement yet. He paused. “I’ve travelled some of the way beyond here, Sofia. As a caravan guard, we’d take the western paths to the Jin-Dakiv lands.”

  “The Jin-Dakiv? Are they really all blind?”

  He shook his head. “No, just their priests. But they are secretive folk, we barely crossed the border before we had to stop and trade, basically on the side of the road.”

  “But you know Avaon?”

  “Well enough. Beyond is the centre of the Bloodwood and the First Tree.”

  “Father might be there.”

  “I hope not.” He gave Swift a pat and she started forward again.

  Similar houses to those in Irihs appeared first; small, thatched and covered in moss, but beyond them lay larger structures. Some with stone bases. Most were in ruin, the flow of Braonn never glancing at the run-down buildings. Each one was being reclaimed by the forest.

  Sofia spoke softly. “Avaon has stone buildings?”

  He gave her a look. “You seem surprised?”

  “Something to do with Seto’s grandfather, perhaps?”

  “Older. King Menate. He decided that living in each other’s lands was the best way for our two peoples to learn about each other, to prevent more fighting.”

  “Only it didn’t work,” Sofia said.

  “Right. The buildings ended up being used to prepare Braonn children to work in Anaskar, as an odd penance for the Braonn Rebellion. And resentment continued to grow.” He glanced around, then back to her. “I would have thought you’d know the history well.”

  “As a Carver I was lucky to get the learning I did. The only reason I know languages and a bit more, is because Father was careful. It was only me and Tantos and...” She trailed off, wiping at the sweat at her temples.

  It was still best to hide the masks but she was already suffering from the lenasi withdrawal. How long could she hold off?

  “Let’s just say there are gaps in my education, all right?”

  “I understand.”

  “But I’ve always meant to ask, why do the Braonn still send their children to us? Surely the debts are paid?”

  “I asked Luik the same thing once. He said some people here see it as a way to escape the isolated life of the Bloodwood, a way to join the ‘rich lives’ of the northerners. Sometimes, when Braonn return home, they’re given positions of power.”

  “That’s a foolish risk.”

  “And when has a young person ever been open to reason?”

  “I’m hardly old, Notch and I’m reasonable.”

  “You’re unique.”

  “Thank you, I think.”

  “There’s more. You mentioned the debts? Luik knows families who owe debts that supposedly travel back beyond the Rebellion, as far as two hundred years. Some were placed into service as payment for Anaskari aid in driving off the Ulag Clan.”

  Sofia nodded slowly. “The Black Raiders ravaged the Bloodwood for generations. But didn’t they die out?”

  “Only beneath the swords of our ancestors.”

  Sofia fell silent.

  Deep in the settlement now, and as with Irihs, unfriendly eyes watched them. Notch kept a hand on his hilt as he walked. Men folded their arms from doorways and women turned away. Children pointed but their parents hushed them.

  “Where are we going?”

  “To find a Trader. Or even a hunter.”

  Again, the tension hadn’t been so high the last time he’d travelled the Bloodwood, but he’d been with Luik then. It all came back to that. He was Anaskari, with another Anaskari, deep in a place where his people were rarely seen, let alone welcomed.

  Another ruin loomed. Twice as tall as any other, its windows were crammed with flowerbeds and the crumbling tops of walls snaked with dark vines. By its empty doorway, a group of men barred the way.

  All had bows slung over their shoulders. Many stood with crossed arms, but no drawn weapons. The eldest, a man with grey at his temples, raised a hand when they approached. His tunic had a giant tree stitched in gold. Notch motioned for Sofia to dismount.

  Grey-hair spoke in Anaskari. “You must turn back, strangers.”

  Notch stopped. “We seek a Mascare who may have passed through. We would appreciate it if we could continue.”

  “No Mask has come through Avaon, and so you will have to leave.”

  Sofia stepped forward and bowed, speaking in clear Braonn. “We have tracked him and his pursuers as far as the forest just behind us, is it not possible to continue?”

  He shook his head. “Be that as it may, there is nothing for you beyond Avaon. Even were you not Northerners. And further, it is on my mercy only, the mercy of peace, that I will not have you killed for what you are.”

  “Please.”

  The leader gestured to the men surrounding him. “Escort them from Avaon. If they resist, kill one and send the other away to explain the price of trespass.”

  Sofia opened her mouth to speak again, but Notch touched her arm. It was a time to obey. He fell into step beside one of the men, keeping close to Sofia. The Braonn flanked the horse and the group walked in silence. Notch kept his hand near his blade, but the Braonn, each man with a tight mouth, made no hostile move.

  People stopped their tasks to stare at the escort. At the edge of the settlement, the men stopped. One pointed to the path leading away. “If you go now, we won’t hurt you.”

  Notch moved to lead Swift away. She glanced over her shoulder. “They’re only watching us.”

  “I’ll settle for that.”

  “Will you just? And what are we going to do now?”

  “Well I don’t want them taking up their bows. And as for your question, I don’t know.”

  “Do we have a map?” She twisted her torso to rummage through the saddlebags.

  “Wait until we stop a moment.”

  He followed the path until it reached a small clearing, Avaon no longer visible through the trees behind them. Giving Swift her feedbag, Notch joined Sofia on a smooth rock where she frowned over a map, bright in the patch of light.

  “I don’t know where we are.”

  He pointed to a faint circle drawn in the trees. “Here.”

  “Then where would my father go if not Avaon?”

  “East toward the coast, maybe further into the Bloodwood. It’s hard to know. How close was pursuit at this point? The answer is either in Avaon itself or on the outskirts.”

  “Can we circle Avaon?”

  “Traces of his passage would be hard to find unless there’d been another fight. It’s been too long. And we’d be lucky to stumble upon anything useful at this rate.”

  “Then we’re back to finding a hunter or tracker.”

  “If the Braonn find us snooping around, blood will be shed. And we’re outnumbered, Sofia, even with the Greatmasks.”

  Sofia scowled. “I don’t know how to use them anyway.”

  “You did some impressive things in the Sea Shrine.”

  She shrugged.

  “Well, it’s up to us then,” he said. “No-one is going to talk in Avaon.”

  “Where do we start?”

  “East.”

  “Why east?”

  “It’s as good as any side of the settlement and it’s closer to the river.” He bent to take a flask from his pack, raising it. Cool water slid down his throat and he turned back toward Avaon. The man with the First Tree on his chest would kill them. The Bloodwood was a different place now. Old resentments had come to the fore. Did Seto know? Did anyone in Anaskar know?

  Maybe charging into the Bloodwood was a mistake.

  “Notch, what is it? Are we leaving?”

  “When Luik and I travelled through the forest as mercenaries it was in a company of mostly Anaskari with a few Braonn men too. Even an older soldier from the Far Islands. Now and then we were chasing thieves, but mostly guarding caravans bound for Avaon itself or sometimes Jin-Dakiv. When we came through settlements or passed people on the paths, anyone with tanned skin got their share of dark looks, but we were always allowed to enter Avaon.”

  “And today we were stopped.”

  “Why now? What exactly is happening in the Bloodwood?”

  Sofia straightened. “Trade has slowed over the last few months. I overheard Father, he wanted to investigate but then Tantos...disappeared.”

  Notch sighed. “Maybe we don’t have much choice. We’re blind out here. I’ll check to see if we’ve been followed, then it’s back toward Avaon before we lose the light. There must be information we can use somewhere.”

  Sofia nodded.

  Notch snuck into the trees, choosing his footfalls. The old growth was not easy to traverse but at least he didn’t snap any branches. His circuit of the clearing was slow. He narrowed his eyes at more than a few trees. Had there been a flash of green clothing? Pale skin – the glint of an eye? He crouched by a stump. No surprise if the Braonn did have them followed, to ensure they headed away, to carry out the promise.

  He inched his sword from its scabbard.

  Something cold rested against his neck. “Be still,” a voice said in Braonn.

  Notch cursed.

  Chapter 16

  Sofia paced the small clearing, sweat building at her temples. She’d have to wear Osani soon but not until Notch returned. How long should it take him to check for trouble? Was something wrong? Swift snickered. Sofia moved over to rub her neck. “Don’t worry, girl.”

  Leaves rustled and Notch stumbled into the clearing, a group of Braonn on his heels. Six men, all armed with bows, hand axes and daggers. Notch’s own weapons were missing and a thin cut bled on the side of his neck. His lips were set. One of the Braonn, a tall man, gestured at her and a pair started forward.

  Notch shook his head when she met his eyes. She let a man take her by the arm, the other leading Swift, who clopped along behind her. Her pulse quickened. Were the Braonn taking them to be killed? Interrogated? Escorted from the forest?

  They couldn’t be allowed to find the Greatmasks. So far, her captors weren’t looking in the saddlebags at least. The men smelt of leather and sweat and no-one spoke as the group crossed, single file, into the forest, pushing through the undergrowth to a winding game trail beyond. The footing was slick with old, damp leaves and she slipped to a knee. One of her captors muttered something, but helped her up. No other sounds, and Notch not close enough to hear if she whispered.

  The narrow trail broadened as it turned toward Avaon, but a tall-man, his blond hair visible above the others at the head of the group, didn’t return to the settlement. His path veered away, though glimpses of smoke from home fires were never far.

  A dark building loomed ahead, crumbling stone visible beneath the weight of vines and moss. A temporary roof of branches stretched across the building and a guard stood at the door, arms folded. He let them in, a sneer on his face, but again, no-one spoke.

  Inside, light filtered through the makeshift roof, mottling the leaf-strewn floor. In a dim corner, a man sat on a crate, eating stew from a bowl. The tall Braonn and the eating man conferred, voices a bare murmur.

  After a time the tall man nodded, leaving his fellow in the shadow. He stopped before her. “Hands up.” He looked to Notch. “You too.”

  “What do you want?” she said, raising them.

  “No speaking,” he growled. The Braonn tied her wrists together, the rope digging into her skin. A second captor tied Notch, then they were pushed toward the opposite corner, where a trapdoor was thrown open. Wide steps led down to darkness. One of their captors waved his hand. Notch hesitated until the man raised a knife.

  She followed him into the darkness, moving slowly. The shape of the steps gradually resolved, as did the dank stone floor of an empty room below. The hatch thumped closed, plunging their prison into darkness. Scraping followed as something heavy – the crate – was dragged over to rest atop the trapdoor.

  That was that.

  “Shouldn’t we have fought them?”

  Notch shifted in the dark. “Too many.”

  “Well, what do we do now?” Sweat formed on her temples, despite the chill beneath the ground. “Wouldn’t they have killed us already?”

  “It might be a good sign. When they took me, they were talking about waiting for someone. The tall one must have seen that I understood enough, so they stopped.”

  “We shouldn’t have given up, Notch. I could have used Argeon.”

  “You said you can’t use it, so you’d likely be dead. Me too.”

  “And how much better off are we now?”

  “We’re alive.”

  Her stomach started to churn. Gods, the Masks. Had they been found yet? How bad would the withdrawals be without them? “I need to wear one of the Greatmasks again, if they haven’t been stolen already.”

  “How are your bindings?”

  “Tight. Do you have a knife, hidden somewhere?”

  “Taken.”

  “Then what do we do?”

  “Wait for our chance. Can you hold on?”

  “We’re going to find out.” Sofia sat against the wall opposite Notch. Only a patch of his shoulder caught what little light slipped through the trapdoor. Cold seeped through her clothing, an odd contrast to the sweat at her temples and running down her neck.

  With nothing else to do, she dozed.

  The room shifted in and out of focus, light blurring. Sometimes it seemed Notch called to her but her lips wouldn’t move. She answered in her mind, but the conversation stopped. From somewhere came laughter, as if someone stood above her head, walking on the ceiling. Sweat dampened her hair and undergarments.

  Other sounds filtered through the fever, but they were soon lost in the dark.

  When a wave of light burst upon her face, she groaned, squeezing her eyes shut. Voices followed, but the words weren’t making...Braonn. She stretched stiff muscles, raised bound hands to shield her eyes.

  Two Braonn men stood by the wall, placing torches in iron rings. One was the tall man who’d captured them. The other leant close; a Braonn man with circle tattoos running down his neck and crossing the backs of his hands. Were the tattoos dancing? Green eyes glittered, before he clicked his tongue. “Useless. This one is barely conscious.”

  “The other is well enough, Efran.”

  The two crossed the room where Efran nudged Notch with his boot. “Wake up, soldier.” His Anaskari was good. “Two things. Your name and your purpose in Wiraced.”

  Notch squinted. “Notch. We’re searching for a fugitive.”

  Efran exchanged a glance with his taller counterpart.

 

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