Page 35 of The Source of Storms

When we weren’t talking, he sometimes made up nonsensical songs about Tiny and Precious, as he called them, singing of their escapades to the tunes of old folksongs.

“Tiny and Precious

So small and stout

Always searching

Followed their snout

Came to the hut

Of a woman of white

Hair fair as snow

Eyes black as night

But it was not safe

In dark spooky woods

Sensing the danger

They ran fast as they could

Away they dashed

As fast as they dared

But catch them she did

And turned them to hares.”

Vardir and Garmr had quit scouting ahead and now patrolled only behind us. Occasionally one of them would catch up, survey us, and then vanish into the woods again.

Byrgir swung a leg over his mount’s back and turned around in his saddle, so he rode facing backwards. He continued his song, humming parts and then cutting in with silly lyrics. I marveled at his upbeat mood, his confidence, when I could think only of what had happened to Eilith. Of where she was now, of the state her steading may have been left in. But his joviality was contagious, and I hummed along to his song.

Byrgir caught my eye with sudden intention. He tapped his lower thigh with two fingers extended, then pointed back behind us in the direction he faced. Two following behind us, he meant. I gave a subtle nod as he turned to face forward in the saddle again. No wonder the wolves had put their focus on our rear guard.

We rode on for another hour and then followed a side path down to a camping spot near the river. Evening was approaching. Byrgir started a fire, despite my questioning look.

He stepped close to me as I loosened Anam’s saddled, and spoke under his breath, “They know where we are. We won’t lose them unless we leave the main road. Or kill them.”

I nodded and checked my bow and quiver, although I did not feel prepared to face those men again.

We went about setting up camp, the rushing of the river providing a calming background noise to our evening chores. Despite the peaceful setting, I remained paranoid.

Byrgir took our water jugs and the kettle down to the river, calling the wolves to follow him. Perhaps to show them where they could drink, maybe for the extra protection. They disappeared into the small band of trees that separated our elevated clearing from the riverbank. I took advantage of the privacy and dug a spare shirt from my pack. Something clean and dry would be a welcome change from the shirt I had been in for two days.

I had just started to pull the loose linen shirt over my head when a large hand clamped over my mouth, and I felt the cold line of a blade press against my throat. I screamed into the hand and grabbed for the knife at my belt, but it was already gone. I heard it hit the ground next to me.

“Quiet now, darling,” an unknown male voice murmured in my ear. He pulled me back, pressing me tight to him as I struggled. “If you thrash too hard, this knife will bite. And nobody wants that.”

I stilled, pulling in deep breaths through my nose. I tried to focus, tried to think of any way out of this. Any incantation that could help me.

“Now, I’m going to turn you around and you’re going to hold your hands out for me to tie. And you’re not going to make no sound when I move my hand, right darling?”

I nodded, hating myself for how completely helpless I was.

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