Nightsworn | The Whispering Wall #2

Twenty Eight: First Night

The Barrens did exactly what they said on the tin.

They had not been long out of the city limits before they reached the straggling edges of the plains, and in the gloom Jordan could barely make out a horizon. He wasn't sure if what he was looking at was a horizon, or whether he'd just found the limits of his vision in the rune-less dark. After the narrow streets of Shadow's Reach, the open expanse was both terrifying and exhilarating.

He was out – finally out. He lifted his head and let the chill breeze play on his face until Ren gave a soft chirrup of protest.

He walked alongside the wagon, the only thing for miles around with visible runes to see by, but it wasn't the strongest source of magic out here. He could sense the mountains that distantly lined their path to his right, sense the rumble of the current that was tangible on a level that underpinned physical senses. The air was already fresher, free of smoke and city stink. Dead grass crunched under his feet.

A demon wailed in the dark.

"You're with four other Unspoken," Yddris muttered. "Friendly reminder so you don't shit yourself. You need those breeches to last you."

"Is this what you're like when Harkenn hasn't got you haring around?" Jordan grumbled back. His tutor's usual barbed teasing had been going steadily up by notches the further they got from the castle. He had the feeling Yddris was just as relieved as he was to get away, but didn't appreciate how it manifested itself.

"To be very honest with you, boy, I can't remember," Yddris replied.

"Yes, it is," Hap said, from where he was taking his turn riding in the wagon. "You'll get used to it."

"Great."

"What was that, boy?"

"Nothing." Jordan glanced up at Hap. "How long have you known each other?"

Hap sighed, readjusting the grip on his cane and said, "Must be over a couple of decades by now, eh, Yddris?"

Yddris grunted, thought for a moment, and then said, "Fuck, we're old."

Hap laughed. "You carry it better than me, my friend."

"Says the man who hasn't seen my face since I apprenticed," Yddris retorted. "That's my treat, that is." He hawked and spat at the side of the road.

The path was barely more than a dirt track. The soil was pale and fine, and lay in treacherous slicks of wet that barely glistened enough to see it before he slid in it. The bottom of his cloak was soon caked in grainy splatters, but he didn't mind, because at least it wasn't blood or demon shit. The wind buffeted them more fiercely than it ever had in the shelter of the streets; the merchant and his son had disappeared under a pile of skins and blankets, and it was so biting that Jordan felt his first real shiver in months.

"You can pull on the current if you're cold," Koen said, spotting it. "It'll heat you up."

"Oh yeah. I might do." But Jordan didn't even try, because in a strange way it felt nice to be cold – felt more normal. He wasn't blue-lipped and shuddering like the two non-Gifted travelling with them – he wasn't sure how cold it would have to get before that happened - but he was just chilly enough to be uncomfortable, and he relished the familiar feeling.

"I think we should camp here for the night," the merchant called over his shoulder. "Ground feels more sturdy."

Jordan glanced around, and then saw why; a stunted tree, one of the first they'd come across, had sheltered a patch of ground from the worst of the rains. It grew its branches more outward than upward, creating a flat canopy of dark leaves around its gnarled branches. It was a strange thing, its trunk leaning one way and then another as if some giant had been pushing it around as it grew, but it acted as a rather effective windbreak.