Page 82 of The Ruin of Eros

“What has gotten into you?”

A thought comes to me, cold and sharp, as his golden eyes meet mine:I should be listening better. I turn back and stare down at the crystalline, flowing stream. There should be grass, shouldn’t there, on the bank? The earth here is wet and mulchy, but nothing grows on it. I step a few feet away, and rip up some tiny yellow flowers and a handful of grass. Then I go back to the bank, and scatter them into the stream.

The water’s fast, and carries them swiftly around the bend.

But not so fast that I can’t see them curl up like a dead thing, and shrivel to black.

*

I scramble back, my heart thumping. Ajax whinnies softly, treads the ground where he stands.

“Thank you, Ajax.”

He snorts, and moves his face briefly against my palm. I look into his gold-colored eyes. I’m embarrassed to have doubted his instincts, which clearly are better than mine. My heart stays in my throat until the sound of the stream disappears behind us, and even then, the forest makes my skin crawl. I’m glad when we’re free of it, back on another broad and sloping plain.

The world is brown and withered now. The rich reds and russets are gone, giving way to brown and grey. The sky is heavier than it ought to be at this hour, and I wonder if it will rain. I drop the reins for a while to rub some warmth back into my limbs, and wonder how much worse all this will get. I touch the Shroud around my neck once more: I find it hard to believe that it’s working, when I’ve never felt so hunted in my life. Only belatedly did I think how I ought to have waited until the harpies had moved along to other victims; then I could have gone back and collected the two lost arrows from the wild grass where they fell.

I suppose the gods will hear word of me soon. The creatures of this place must whisper it, whenever they see a mortal on these slopes.

It begins to rain at last.

At first it is just a drizzle, then a steady patter, and soon a driving, pelting wall. I pull the hanks of wet hair from my face, barely seeing Ajax’s mane before me, barely hearing the slush of his hooves through mud. I can’t see far in front of us, and at this rate I’m afraid of losing our path. I push a rake of rainwater from mychiton, and move the reins to my left hand.

“Ajax, what do you see, boy? Any trees nearby?”

We’re already soaked, but surely there’s somewhere around here we can take shelter.

Then in a brief gap in the rain, as if through a grey window, I glimpse a copse of dark green trees. Despite the wintry season, their foliage is still thick and lush, a dense canopy of evergreen. .

“That will do!” I exult, and bury my hands in Ajax’s mane, steering him off the path. It’s not far—we’ll be able to find our way back again as soon as the rain stops.

When we pull up under the trees, it’s like stepping through a doorway into some protected place. Instantly the hammering of rain fades to a soft splashing outside its circle. The sheltering trees are tall, and their canopy so dense that barely a stray drop makes it down to us. I dismount, wipe my face, and coil my hair tight to wring out a gush of rainwater.

“Greetings, lady,” a strange voice says.

Chapter Thirty-One

I whip around.

Greetings,the voice seems to echo, redoubling on itself.Greetings, lady.But there’s no one here. I move slowly, keeping my back against Ajax’s warm flank. The circle is empty. There’s not a soul to be seen.

“Are you a wraith?” I say. “Show yourself!”

There is silence and then a beat before the whispers begin again.

She hears us.

Hears us.

“Lady, we mean no harm.”

The voice is light, almost childlike.

No harm; no harm,the echoes come.

“Then why can I not see you?”

We,the voice said. NotI.There are many of them, then—whatever “they” are.

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