A Mischievous Tale of Magical Mayhem

10 | Unexpected Allies

Rain continued throughout the night, waking Ben and Maisie to damp sleeping rolls and rumbling thunder.

There was no way to light a fire, and if the weather kept up like this, they wouldn't have another patch of dry land to sleep on unless they found shelter.

Two days of relentless rain hounded the pair as they remained vigilant, constantly surveying their surroundings and marching forward.

The further north they traveled, the more the temperatures dropped. As the sun dipped behind the mountains in the west, Ben and Maisie both shivered in their cold, soaked clothes.

Ahead, a mountain loomed to the north, and the outlines of an abandoned house came into view among the rocky, nondescript hills.

According to the map, this structure had once been part of a large estate, which sat just within the boundaries of Deadwood. To the west were the lands that had survived. A roaring river drowned the rain, beckoning travelers to its refreshing water.

Muscles stretching uncomfortably between her shoulder blades, Maisie stopped a moment to catch her breath. "Goodness, my body isn't built for this."

Maisie understood hard labor. Carrying sacks of potatoes or buckets of water was no simple task, but walking for countless miles was a completely different experience.

"Where do you want to settle for the night?"

Shivering, Ben pointed toward the abandoned house. He was tired of being cold—wishing for a proper fire and hot food for a change, even if it was only watered-down soup.

"Let's make for that ruin. Carefully, though. We'll want to be sure it's empty before we get too close."

Craving dry shelter, Maisie tightened her shoulder straps. "Very well."

Her temper was shorter than usual, and acne dotted her face. Hercycle wasn't due for at least another week, yet her sore breasts hinted otherwise.

Ben rested his hand on Fann's head, the fur as damp as his own clothes, and spoke to the wolf in his mind. Doing so became easier every time he attempted it, and now felt as natural as speaking aloud.

Careful and quiet, Fann, he said. No noise.

A low growl rumbled in Fann's chest and a sense of understanding came through their bond. Thanks to Tallon's skills, the wolf's leg had mended well, though it would be some weeks yet before the bone fully healed. In the meantime, he wore a bandage on his hind leg and kept it off the ground, making do with three limbs instead of four.

"All right," Ben said. "Fann will go first and we'll follow. Keep low and use the brush for cover."

Fann took the lead, nose to the ground and tail stiff. The land between them and the house was bare except for a handful of dead trees and clumps of withered shrubs, a few of which clung to life, with sickly leaves growing at the ends of blackened twigs. Rocks and broken boulders offered the only other cover. Fortunately, the elven cloaks camouflaged them well, and if they held still, Ben doubted anyone would pick them out from the drab landscape—as long as Maisie kept her hood over her hair, which was likely the brightest thing in all of Deadwood.

As they drew nearer to the structure, Ben perceived it was in better shape than the broken house in which they had taken shelter when Tallon fell ill. This one still had most of its roof and four intact walls of stone. The door was gone, and the windows were empty and black as the eye-sockets of a skull.

The rain increased its tempo, pattering down in drenching sheets that made it difficult to see farther than a few yards ahead, but it masked their presence and drowned out any sound they might have made. Thin shards of stone covered the ground. Ben vaguely remembered Brixby having called it 'shale,' and it clinked and rattled like broken pottery underfoot.