Page 103 of Feral Guardian
“Thank you for explaining it. I’d like to know more about Ashai, and her sons. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I ask.
His jaw works. “My mother warned me not to speak of them, that doing so would get me killed. When I saw how thoroughly they’d been removed from your culture, I knew I had to follow her order. Very few books remain with knowledge of their wards, potions, and spells, but their names have all been removed, inked over, or destroyed. I think now I know why.
“The queen, and every Hilden reign before her, they must be manipulating this magic. The Pit was old, urictsa, right?”
“Yes, the Pit was a sentient being full of magic. I could feel it. Like an icy blanket of live worms on my skin.” I shiver at the feeling surging through me from memory alone.
Alastair pulls me in and wraps me in his warmth, his scent. “You’re not there. You’re here with me.”
I breathe into him and relax.
“All this is to say, I could sense the intent of those following us and I know they’re not with your mother. They don’t want to hurt us, and their end goal isn’t to see us harmed. Still, I don’t like being followed.”
“I feel similarly on the matter.”
He pulls back from me a measure. “We should get on the road. Try to stay ahead of them.”
“You think it’s more than one?” I ask, walking with him to Kor’Tar.
He hums assent, but doesn’t speak on it more.
We ride at a quickened pace for another two hours before letting Kor’Tar rest, bringing us just to the edge of the eastern farmlands outside the wall. Alastair is quiet, his eyes cutting from tree to tree as his horse drinks his fill from an agricultural ditch that’s been carved out from a stream up the hill.
“They’re here?” I ask in a low whisper.
He nods, gripping the hilt of his war axe. “They’re watching. They want us to move. I feel like we’re being corralled.”
“But not to hurt us?”
He shakes his head. “Either they’re masking their intent somehow, or there’s absolutely no harm in their actions.”
I step closer to him, readying my hands to splay shield wards. “I still don’t like it.”
“Neither do I,” he replies. “Come out!”
Alastair’s voice echoes in the small clearing, but only the wind replies.
“I promise to do you no harm if you promise the same. Come out.”
We wait for a long moment. Beside me, Alastair is tense. His biceps strain and his grip makes the handle of his axe squeak. I see nothing, and feel nothing, but I don’t doubt he’s right.
“Fucking show yourselves,” he utters.
“Perhaps we should just move on?” I ask him. “We could lose them in the Lower Kingdom. It’ll be easier for us to disappear in that much activity.”
Alastair grunts and backs us toward Kor’Tar without turning around. He moves the horse so we can mount up still facing the trees he’d been so intent on, and then we tear off toward the road again. There are dozens of farm workers moving about the road with buckets, hoes, and other equipment. We dodge around wheelbarrows and bigger carts, causing the people walking to leap out of the way.
Some old man screams and shakes his fist at us as we pass. “The Bloodletter will hear about this!”
“Fuck,” Alastair grumbles over my shoulder and slows Kor’Tar to a trot. “They’re all staring now, and it’s fucking with my senses.”
We approach a small gate and a man in heavy black leather steps in the path. His entire body is concealed, save for the strip of his eyes. He holds up his hand to stop us.
“Dismount,” he commands.
He’s not city guard, or a soldier. In fact, I haven’t seen any guards in a while. I scowl and glance over my shoulder at Alastair.
“We’re passing through,” Alastair says, not stopping Kor’Tar’s trot.
