Page 116 of Of Empires and Dust

The look in Atara’s eyes was one Aeson had not seen in hundreds of years. Atara Anthalin, the Blade of Anadín, once again had found a fire in her heart, and it was Calen who had set it alight.

Chapter 27

Hunting the Hunters

10thDay of the Blood Moon

Níthianelle – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom

The snappingof twigs and rustle of leaves woke Ella. She shifted in place, white mist drifting from the thick branch beneath her. Strands of gossamer light passed through the canopy overhead, pale and sickly. There was no day or night in Níthianelle, only this eternal ghostly twilight.

Another snapping sound caused her to lean over the edge of the branch upon which she was perched, twenty or so feet up the trunk of the tree.

Below, the branches and leaves of the brush moved back and forth lazily in the wind, leaving trails of white mist behind them. A squirrel, leaking the same ethereal glow, scampered through the foliage, bounding over fallen branches and rocks. Ella leaned back, closing her eyes for a moment. Assuming sleep worked inNíthianelle as it did in the waking world, it had been five days since Tamzin had found her. They were almost to the Darkwood.

Since coming across the Bjorna Angan and that wraith, Tamzin had pushed them both to an exhausting pace. They’d not come across another of the Bjorna, but now Ella saw the wraiths everywhere. The vast majority were not like the one that had attacked her. They were not ‘hungry’, as Tamzin had put it. They were simply lost, wandering endlessly, their minds gone. There was something sadder about that.

A short time passed with more rustling below, creatures shifting in the undergrowth, birds flapping their wings and chorusing their songs, until voices broke the serenity.

“Anything?” The voice belonged to a man – young and tired. He was twenty feet away, maybe thirty. His heart galloped like a rabbit’s and his sweat smelled stale and sharp. That was something new Ella had learned about this place: people still sweated. At first, the sound of the man’s heart unsettled her. Then she felt the wolf prowling in the back of her mind, a low rumble in its throat.

“The trail is hard to read. But they passed through here.” The second voice was much closer, only a few feet away. It was older, harder. His pulse was slow despite his heavy breaths. The wolf within her was wary of this one.

“Who do you think found the Fragment?”

“It matters little. It was not our people.”

“But what if it was the Bjorna? What if?—”

“Calm yourself, eyas. Watch and listen. Attune your senses.”

The younger voice didn’t speak, but Ella could sense the change in his smell. He reeked of anger, of frustration. The wolf in her blood stood tall, hackles rising. It urged her to leap from the branch, to take the elder first, then stalk the cub. They were hunting her. She needed to hunt them back.

No.Tamzin told her to run if something came for her. There were too many things she didn’t know about this place. Too many ways something could go wrong. If she stayed where she was and didn’t make a sound, they would pass, she was sure of it. She leaned back and pushed her foot into the branch, trying to press herself tighter against the trunk. The branch gave the slightest groan in response, a near inaudible rustle of its leaves.

“You see, eyas. Patience is a virtue.”

Ella’s hackles stood on end, and she leaned over the branch to see a grey-haired man staring up at her from the base of a nearby tree.

She snapped back, pressing herself against the tree’s trunk, her pulse pounding.

Wingbeats thumped on the wind. A hawk perched on the branch across from her, its head tilting side to side, its eyes fixed on Ella. The bird’s crest was a rusty orange, its wings striped black and white. It stared at her for a moment, then unleashed a sharp shriek that rose and fell.

Ella pushed herself back as far as she could without falling, but the creature leapt from its branch and swooped towards her, its talons extended, white light streaming in its wake.

The wolf within her took over, and Ella swung her hand. Her fingernails lengthened and hardened, claws ripping through the hawk’s wing and into its chest, hollow bones cracking.

The strike tore the hawk apart and it smacked against a branch, limp, then fell like a stone, feathers floating in its wake. A howl came from below.

But as the hawk fell, Ella lost her balance and slipped from her perch. She scrambled, her claws raking furrows in the branch’s bark. For a moment, she thought it would hold, but then her claws ripped through and she was falling.

A thick branch knocked the air from her lungs. She spun, bright light and shadows swirling across her vision. She slammed into another branch, then hit the ground. Hard.

Ella’s head spun, stars flitting across her eyes as she lay on her back, gasping for air. Her lungs burned, and her entire body throbbed. She could barely move, but the wolf within howled, demanding she rise.

She hauled herself upright, ignoring her body’s screams. Voices floated, dull and faint.

“Kadal, no!”

---