Exiles of Forlorn (7 page)

“What about you?” He passed Sharkhart and moved to the end of the line, where stood Uller, his pasty skin growing moister and redder by the second. “What did you do?”

“I—”

“He’s a wizard,” said Blackfoot, followed by a laugh. It seemed like the little guy had been holding that in for hours.

“Shut your hole, urchin,” Uller snapped. His boldness vanished as his eyes turned from the chuckling burglar to Arn. “I’m not a wizard. I was an apprentice to the head of the Hagorium at the Spire. I was exiled before my training could complete.”

“Well, Yuten is in luck then. He’s been aching for an apprentice.”

“An apprentice?” Uller’s eyes widened. “You have a wizard?”

“Of a sort. I don’t know how much formal training he’s had.”

Uller’s eyes narrowed, and he lowered them to the ground. “A hedge wizard?”

“He lives in a hole, telling fortunes and brewing potions. He’s tried to take an apprentice from some of the younger folk here, but none of them seemed to have the knack for it. He’ll be overjoyed to meet someone he can discuss star-charts and ley-lines with.”

Uller shrugged and nodded. It was a long way to fall, being the star pupil of the most elite school of sorcery, rubbing elbows and fetching tea for the greatest mages in the world to apprenticing for a hedge wizard. As he’d not expected to find any sort of training on Forlorn, it was better than he could have hoped for. Still, it made me feel sorry for him, just a little.

Our new boss was gracious enough to give us a few hours to mingle with the residents before the noontime meal. After that, we’d be given housing assignments. As they left, I heard them chatting lightly. Melvon struggled to keep up with his taller fellows as they ascended the hill to the village. I heard him ask between heavy breaths if he could be a general now, too.

The others mulled about uncertainly. Some climbed the hill to the village, others went to the shore and looked out over the water, possibly to see if they could still spot the skiffs, if it wasn’t too late to wave them down.

Soon, it was just us by the beach, me and my little band of friends. We formed a ring in the sand with our bodies and exchanged looks. I looked past the village at the black, snow-capped mountains in the distance. We were closer now than we’d been since we learned what was there waiting for us, but it still seemed thousands of leagues from our grasp. I caught Uller giving the mountains a similar look, before our eyes met. He nodded, and I nodded back. We both looked at Reiwyn at the same time. Then all eyes were on me.

“Welcome to Forlorn Colony.” That got grins from everyone and a laugh from Blackfoot. “Let’s go mingle, Lieutenant.” I gestured to Antioc.

“After you, Captain.”

5.

A
ntioc dug about in the riverbed while I picked at my sunburn. The skin had already started flaking off, leaving a pinkish-brown layer that hopefully would be a bit more stalwart against the sun. Because the sun was always there in Forlorn, always there, leaning on you like a fat friend with foul breath and boundary problems.

At least there was shade there, where the stream burst from the thick woods and met the sand and emptied to a big, round lagoon, before breaking into another stream and depositing into the sea. I soaked my feet in it and leaned against a rock. Further down, Blackfoot built a wall of sand with one of the boys his age from the village. To their back, down the hill and across a wide wooden bridge, was the northeastern gate to the village. It was always open at this time of the day. Other exiles came and went, most of them travelling to the lagoon for some recreation away from the crowd and stink of the colony. Though many had come and gone since we arrived, currently three women, two younger and one older, played naked in the lagoon.

Uller had come out with us, but vanished right away to go looking for herbal components and reagents for spells and whatnot. That left us with a stocky plains savage with a bow and a reed quiver of stone-tipped arrows named Threestep. He seemed wholly interested in watching the ladies swimming. I watched them for a while but found it more annoying than enjoyable. It only reminded me of the one I truly wanted to see.

I picked up a long stick and began to trace idly in the sand. I looked down at the beach and a wave of dark black hair in the distance. I started to smile when I realized it was Reiwyn. My smile vanished when I saw a cyclopean figure standing a little too close for my liking. I clenched my jaw and let out a breath like steam from a kettle.

“That a map?” Threestep’s voice jolted me from my little trance. He pointed a thick finger to the sand at my feet, where I saw the half-drawn image of the map Roren had made me commit to memory.

“Yes, sure,” I said, too shocked to hide my tension. Daevas, I’d started drawing the thing almost in my sleep at this point!

“I don’t recognize it. Is it where you’re from?”

I was happy he was oblivious, but couldn’t risk him figuring out this was part of the same island we now called home. I kicked sand over my drawing, turning it into an indecipherable mess. “Cartography is something of a hobby.”

“Why’d you wreck it?” He looked offended, like I’d just snapped his arrows.

“I’m not very good . . . it’s just a hobby I picked up as a child.” I feigned a smile and looked for a diversion. I found it sorting rocks by the lagoon’s edge. “Antioc, you find whatever it is you sought?”

“I believe I did.” He lifted one stone from his collection above the rest and turned to face us. Threefoot’s attention quickly shifted.

“Oh, you found a rock,” I said with a nod. “How fair. I was just thinking how short on rocks we were.”

Antioc ignored my derision and polished the side of his prize with a flap of cloth. It wasn’t a particularly special rock, but its shape stood out from the rest of his excavation. It was roughly wedge shaped, with the edges rounded by decades in the water. As it dried, it took on a sandy beige hue with flicks of blue and white. I wouldn’t have called it pretty, but my big friend certainly seemed impressed by it.

“I have what I need, let’s go.” He wrapped the stone in cloth and tied a strip of sinew around the top, fashioning a sack.

“Shouldn’t we wait for Uller?” I nodded to the woods. “You know how he gets.”

“Of course. I forgot all about him.”

“No doubt from the excitement of stone collecting.”

Antioc narrowed his eyes to my sly grin and stood, looking into the woods. He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. “Where is he? He doesn’t usually wander this far.”

“Maybe he got lost?” suggested Threestep. “We should go find him then?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” I sighed and stood beside them. “We should take Blackfoot. He’s got an uncanny knack for finding people.”

Antioc looked over his shoulder at me. “What about Reiwyn?”

“She’s busy.”

After we’d pried Blackfoot from his great works in the sand, the four of us trotted into the forest after our wayward wizard’s apprentice. Our path was little more than a hunting trail. Threestep was the only hunter in the group, so he took the lead with Blackfoot close behind to check the path for signs of Uller. His keen eye for detail was quite useful, as he saw several things we’d have missed. He also had a weird fascination with Uller and always seemed to know what he was doing, which would make figuring out where he went easier.

He almost jumped over Threestep when he found what he was looking for.

“See this?” He held the end of a barren green stalk of a stugroot. Its usual pink and green blossom was missing, leaving only a blunted shaft at the end. Blackfoot pointed at it. “Uller picked this. He definitely came this way.”

“How do you know it wasn’t eaten by wild swine?” asked Threestep. “They eat those flowers. They eat everything.”

Blackfoot shook his head. “Definitely picked with care. The edge is sliced, like with Uller’s bone knife. A swine would have just mashed it all up.”

“That’s why we brought Blackfoot,” I said with a satisfied smile.

“Uller said he was looking for stugroot blossoms,” Blackfoot explained.

“For a spell?” asked Antioc.

Blackfoot shook his head. “He wanted to make red dye with it.”

I crinkled my nose. “What does he need dye for?”

“Why would I know?” Blackfoot tensed, his eyes widening. I almost saw his ears move. I’d barely considered asking him what was wrong when he put his finger to his mouth and gave me a hushing look.

Antioc drew his long bone dagger in one hand and held the rock sack in the other. Threestep slowly knocked an arrow. They both scanned the woods around them. Now I was getting worried. I winced and listened as hard as I could. I heard birds singing, the beach in the distance, and the faint rustle of wind in the trees accompanied by a soft thumping . . . 

It wasn’t wind.

“
Hide!”
mouthed Blackfoot. He scurried around me like a little monkey.

Antioc shrugged and looked around for a good place to hide. By then, our little street urchin had vanished, leaving three dumbfounded morons standing on a hunting trail in the middle of the woods to face whatever was coming.

The thumping and rustling grew louder, accompanied by the unmistakable sound of voices. Deep, gruff, and chattering in a language I didn’t know. Twigs snapped and branches bent as they approached. I felt my heart leap into my throat when I realized what we were about to face.

Antioc and I split up at the trail. He vanished into the thick brush almost effortlessly, while I stumbled and clawed my way through some stiff branches and tripping vines. I landed face first on the ground, sucking in the heady scent of ripped foliage and tasting dirt mixed with my own blood. I rolled over and slid under a bush, only to collide with something warm and trembling.

My head snapped to the side to see what manner of creature I’d struck.

“Uller?” I whispered, “What are you—?”

“Hiding, you fool,” he hissed.

“Is it?”

He answered with a nod and held up two fingers.
Gluttons
. I’d hoped to never see one, let alone have the good fortune to meet two. We lay still as stones as leaves and grass shook with their approach. Seconds later, they stood where we once had, filling the hunting trail with their massive forms. Their bodies stank of old sweat and rotten meat. I had to cover my mouth to keep from retching. I looked at Uller and saw him doing the same thing.

“Bukka nuk gur fung.”

“Cho gur! Sok nov slogga boe.”

The first one’s voice came from higher up, marking him as the taller. The second was closer, in height and distance. Disturbingly close, I could smell his breath on his words.

“Blok blok,”
said the first one. The second one let out a frustrated groan and started pawing around the underbrush.

I struggled to reassure myself that we’d be fair. They were dumb things, barely more than animals. They’d search for a bit and move on, and we’d scurry back to Forlorn Colony with a fun story. Just as soon as these two ugly lummoxes gave up and moved on. In fact, it sounded much like they were close to doing that very thing . . . 

Until the brush above us split open and Uller and I found a gray-skinned, sickeningly rotund giant staring down at us. A fat, toothy grin split the bottom of a pumpkin-shaped head at the end of a warty stub.

“
Garu blug!”

Nothing to lose now, Uller and I screamed. The glutton recoiled as its big, yellow eyes widened like moons. Not for long, though.

“Yo goul!”
it promptly retorted, reaching out and wrapping its fat fingers around our necks.

“Gara blug, uop,”
said the first one. I got a quick look at him. He was lanky, a full foot or more taller than our captor, with a round belly hanging from his wiry form. They called them giants, so I had expected them to be taller than they were. Still, they were by no means small. The shorter of the pair was at least eight feet. The size disparity between my expectations and the reality didn’t make them much less intimidating, though.

They both laughed as the monster lifted us, shaking and screaming. Uller slapped at his hand, and I struggled to draw my bone knife. No sooner did I have it out then the glutton shook me. I cursed to myself as it slipped from my grasp and vanished into the brush.

The giant held us up at arm’s length, admiring his catch. A scream to my left caught his attention. It wasn’t a scream of fear, like Uller’s and mine, but a war cry. I recognized it well. Antioc erupted from the trees, swinging the cloth-wrapped stone around his head like a flail. He let it fly mid-charge. It soared into our captor’s face, crushing one of his eyes into a shower of goo and blood.

The giant howled in pain and dropped us. They weren’t laughing now, especially when one of Threestep’s arrows hit the taller glutton’s shoulder. He’d taken a defensive position several strides up the trail. He was nocking another arrow when the tall one turned and advanced on him, hefting a club that looked like it’d been made from an uprooted tree.

The fat glutton had a shorter club, which he swung clumsily at Antioc. The fighter rolled under it deftly and let loose another war cry as he brought his white bone knife to bear. He slashed the glutton’s leg open, conjuring another howl of pain and a small splatter of blood.

Threestep put another arrow into the tall one, but it didn’t slow.

“Run!” I cried. Threestep stood defiant, drawing another arrow. He barely had time to get it to the string before the glutton took off his head with a single swipe of his fat club.

“No!” shouted Uller, struggling to his feet. He reached into a leather pouch on his belt, and I fumbled through the underbrush for my knife.

Antioc continued rolling and weaving around the fat glutton’s enraged blows. He darted in and out with his knife, leaving shallow little gashes in the giant’s skin. Despite the missing eye, the thing showed no signs of slowing. After seeing how easily his fellow had disposed of Threestep, I knew Antioc didn’t stand a chance. It was only a matter of time before one of those clumsy blows hit home, or his taller friend came back to help.