Shadows in the Trees: Book 1

Chapter 36

Julian had never walked so much in his life. He had hardly ever left Ludovic to begin with, only traveling to his family's summer home on the coast. Even then, they had taken a carriage, and servants had carried their things. He noticed he was losing his softness, his frame becoming more thin and angular, like Malik's. His bones ached from sleeping on the ground at night and walking all day. 

Rhiannon trudged just ahead of him, loosely holding Jaida's hand. He hadn't recognized the princess when he had first seen her; she looked nothing like the creature that had dazzled him in his throne room. Her hair was no longer red, and without the blue tattoos and gold trinkets, she looked surprisingly normal. Julian had a difficult time believing it was truly her, but she called herself Rhiannon, and he didn't know any other women who had happened to go missing in the White Forest at the same time he went in after the princess. Walking behind her, he recognized the regal poise, the same haughty tilt of her head, which she maintained despite hiking through the rough terrain.

The tall, dry grass of the plains whipped at their legs as they walked, scratching the skin exposed by his tattered breeches. They had been traveling for several days, and the terrain was starting to slope upwards, pocked with small hills and valleys. The air had gotten a chill to it despite it being summer and Julian had put his stained blue coat back on. Jaida had returned his pack, and it weighed heavily on his back as he trudged up a short incline. A bird cawed overhead. Julian looked up to see a hawk dive to the grass in the distance, rising up with something clutched in its talons. 

"Everyone stop," Jubil hissed from the front of the group. The Sylph, guided by Freya, had been leading the way, but now they threw out their arms and crouched down. The others followed suit, looking around at the grass with accusing eyes. Julian strained his ears, but all he could hear was wind whispering through the grass. He saw Malik look at Freya with an eyebrow raised. She was frowning, a look of deep concentration on her face. She reached under her skirt, its bright colors dulled from days of travel, and her hand emerged from its folds with a dagger. Malik paled and set his pack on the ground before putting his hands up defensively. 

"What is it?" Julian whispered, and Jaida shushed him. Freya turned to him and shook her head. Her eyes were so dark that they seemed to absorb her pupils. Stay behind me, Freya mouthed to him before turning forward again. Julian felt his hands tremor. He really couldn't hear anything, and he certainly couldn't see anything with this damned grass, how was he supposed to --

Air rushed past him as a brown blur passed in front of his eyes with a growl, slamming Freya into the ground. Her pack crunched beneath her as the wolf's enormous paws sat on her chest, snapping at her face with its dripping teeth. He scrambled back, too shocked to scream. 

      He heard rustling in the grass around him. His friends began fighting their own foes, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Freya. She swiped at the wolf with her dagger, but it caught her wrist in its maw. The dagger fell uselessly into the grass. Freya cried out, blood streaming down her wrist. I should do something, Julian thought, but he sat in the grass, frozen. She held its muzzle in her hands, her arms trembling as she pushed against its jaws reaching for her neck. 

"Stop!" Vess yelled, her voice echoing across the plains. She slammed her foot down, and the grass around them withered and turned black, revealing his hiding place. The wind blew away the remains of the grass, revealing men and women carrying bows and arrows and dressed in pelts. The wolves whimpered and skulked back to their master's sides. Their attackers' faces were painted white with a thick, chalky paint. Julian shivered. They looked like ghouls, monsters from his mother's stories. Out of the corner of his eye, Julian saw Malik rush to Freya, who hadn't left the ground after the wolf on top of her had fled back to its master.

A man with a blonde beard streaked with gray stepped forward. "What are you?" he asked. His accent was guttural and thick. Though Julian couldn't see her face under her hood, he imagined Vess's sinister smile. 

"Something to be feared," she replied. To the man's credit, he kept up his steely expression. Julian knew had he been in his shoes, he would have soiled his breeches three times over by now. 

"What do you want?" he asked. His comrades had kept their bows nocked, and a few had raised them, aiming for Vess. 

"We need to speak with the leader of Tole," she said.

The man laughed. "And why would I take you to the Chieftain?"

"It's a matter of life and death." The man scoffed and raised his hand. 

"If you attack, you will lose," Cerridwen called, rushing out in front of Vess. The man hesitated. Cerridwen pulled back her hood, and the strangers gasped in horror. Those who hadn't yet raised their bows pulled them taut, ready to fire. "Please, we don't want to kill you. But you don't know the power you're dealing with." 

The man's eyed had gone wide, and Julian could see his chest heaving under his jacket. He lowered his hand slowly, keeping his eyes on Cerridwen. Julian saw Jubil come up beside Vess and take her wrist. He saw his lips moving, whispering something in her ear, but he was too far away to hear what was said. 

"We'll summon the Chieftan," the man said. "But in the meantime, you will be our prisoners. You will be tied up and watched at all times." Julian balked, waiting for Vess to strike them down. But Jubil continued whispering in her ear. 

Finally, Jubil released her wrist. "Very well," Vess said. Her voice sounded slow and thick, like she had just been sleeping. "We agree to your terms." Julian felt his jaw go slack, and he looked across the patch of dead grass at Jaida and Rhiannon, who were breathing heavily. Jaida shrugged, but he could tell from her scowl that she was not pleased. 

The Tolish warriors arranged them in a line, and their leader came with a rope, tying them all together by their wrists. He paused when he got to Freya, whose wrist was shredded and slick with blood from the wolf. He connected her to the chain by her neck instead. 

The man whistled, and the Tolish woman holding the front of the rope tugged, causing their captives to stumble forward. The wolves, who seemed to be at the beck and call of the warriors, walked beside them, discouraging them from trying to leave the line if they somehow managed to break their bonds. They led them past the circle of dirt Vess had made and back into the grass, leading them towards the bluish mountains in the distance.