Shadow Herald (Teaser)

Chapter Two

Crislie streaked down the beaten path, her tunic's folds and dark curls flying behind her as she passed the lanes of barley and chaff that marked the outskirts of Gadlin Town. Her elder brother gasped along a few paces behind. She could practically hear his reading glasses bouncing at the end of their twine loop.

"For the last time, slow down!" Evain called out.

Crislie's reply came between bursts of breath and laughter. "Why? So you can win?"

"When did this become a race?"

Grinning, Crislie surged forward over the dirt and gravel. Sitting in one place had never sat well with her. Truly, she was at her happiest when in motion. With the wind whistling in her ear and her feet skimming the ground, she couldn't stay mad at the world.

Trees clustered tightly in the forest at Gadlin's edge and the sky was but a dapple of fading blue peeking out between their leaves. It was early in a bright fall eve, the canopy touched with fire and gold from both the sunset and autumn's arrival. One could hear the river from here, gurgling a gentle song as it wound through the woods. The path grew thick with twigs and mud.

Snickering to herself, Crislie hiked up the edge of her skirts to avoid getting them too dirty. "Keeping up, Ev?" she called back, whirling around at the river's edge to face him.

Her brother — lanky, curly-haired, and now heavily winded — stumbled to a halt with his hands on his knees.

"It's not fair," he said between wheezes, laughing. "I should never have given you my old boots when you wore yours through. Should've let you run about in your flats. See if you'd go so fast then, you jerk. Maybe I should take them back."

Crislie shrugged, failing to hide the smugness in her smile. "But imagine the look on Ma's face if I hauled myself home with my good shoes ruined again."

Catching his breath, Evain dragged himself the rest of the way to the river's bank. "There's a sight I'd hate to see. Speaking of those . . . it's getting dark. Maybe this wasn't a smart way to end the day? We're going to have to slip past the guards so we don't get caught breaking curfew." Evain cut her a sharp look. "Ma'll be upset."

A snort left Crislie. "Oh, but isn't she always?"

"With you? Probably. Stop doing things like this, and maybe she won't be so cheesed off."

"Maybe," she muttered. "If you came home late with dirty shoes and mud on your clothes, she'd be fussing all concerned-like over you, wouldn't she? Wouldn't even raise her voice."

Evain hesitated, closed his mouth, and shrugged.

Having made her point, Crislie plunked herself down on a boulder by the river's edge. As far as rivers went, Crislie supposed that Gadlin's was nice (though she hadn't ever traveled far enough to find other rivers to compare it to). Minnows flashed in the shallows and darted away from each shifting shadow in the clear, slow-moving waters. You could wade right across it if you had a mind to. But then, you might run into something on the other side. The forest across loomed dark and untamed. There, the trees were as tall as ten men, and gods-touched creatures ran wild.

Thankfully, no feyrie folk dared dance across the river that split around the town. They knew their boundaries. If they set a toe out of their woods, or if they were bold enough to show their sharp ears on a trading road, there would be consequences. The Irongardhe knights, servants of the nobles and their god, Gardhe, he of sunlight and smelting, would make sure of that. Bright blood would drip from magic-sung bones.

It made one almost glad that the knights governed Gadhi, even if they were horribly stuffy. Crislie peered into the dark oak and hawthorn and wondered, furtively, what evils would befall her if she gave in to curiosity and walked into the deep woods.