Wintermore (Aeon of Light Book 1) (21 page)

Preta strips off her gear, and she crouches down to sit.

“Not now,” Yaz says to Preta, “no time for rest. Collect firewood, a lot of firewood.”

The drizzle stops, and Preta forges deeper into the woods and collect sticks. Scattered about the area, rusty tin cans, soiled mushy paper, and other discarded items from many years of camp use.

Arms full of small logs and sticks, Preta makes her way back to the clearing.

Yaz is hunched over placing rocks in a neat circle around a shallow pit. He stands up and groans from the leg pain. “Bring the wood here, Preta, and start a fire while I put together a shelter.”

Preta drops the sticks and logs, and she scrapes together twigs and pine needles, making a loose bundle of kindling in the fire pit’s center. She stuffs a small oily cloth ball the size of an acorn under the twigs. Preta strikes the flint with the knife over the bundle, and sparks fly off, igniting the oily acorn, and Preta drops more kindling on top of the flame. The twigs glow orange and white and shrivel with faint black smoke rising from the pile. On her knees, she balances small sticks on the flame one at a time in a pyramid configuration. She leans into the flame and gently blows at the base. The flames grow larger, and she places more branches on top.

The wet branches crack and pop from the heat. Thick yellowish-white smoke fills the clearing. She inhales the dank, mossy pine, coughs, and blows back onto the flames, breathing the fire to life.

A few feet from the pit, Yaz places large sticks over a low hanging branch, creating a lean-to with the open end toward the fire. He sits with another groan and gingerly shifts his bad leg. “Now it’s time to eat and rest.”

Preta removes bread and meat from a basket and passes it to Yaz and Agna.

In the dark, they gaze at the fire in silence.

Preta raises bread and meat to her mouth while her eyes focus on the glowing embers and dancing flames. She eyes Yaz, who is doing the same, in his own conversation with hell.

Preta’s gaze falls onto Agna, her blank face appears to have no emotion as she stares through Preta.

What’s she looking at?
Preta shakes her head, unable to make out what’s going on in Agna’s mind, and after a few seconds, she doesn’t care. She swigs water, pushing down the dry ball of bread, and she returns to hell where she belongs.

Yaz leans over and places all the wood within reach onto the embers. “I’m gonna piss.”

Preta snaps away from her trance and pops off the ground. “Me too.”

She makes her way through the pitch-black in the opposite direction of Yaz. She trips over a root, and a pine branch swipes her in the head. “Shoot.” Preta rubs her face and spits out a clump of pine needles. “Okay, that’s far enough.” Preta pees and stares at the glowing fire, not realizing how bright and warm it was until she was away from the flames.

Back at the shelter, Agna gets in first and lies down.

Yaz climbs in next, and Preta huddles next to him. He pulls his bearskin over top of both of them.

No one speaks.

Preta lies in her brother’s arms and relaxes for the first time in hours. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, she closes her eyes and falls asleep within a minute.

“Dammit, Yaz, get up!” Deet says.

SEEING GHOSTS

Preta, feeling as if she just closed her eyes a minute earlier, she sits up in a fright. “
Deet
?”

The bright sun shines on her face as she blinks, her vision blurry.

Deet, hands on hips, hovers over top of them. “Yaz, I can’t believe you, just what we need.” He turns away, groans, and kicks the dirt.

Yaz sits up and wipes his eyes. “Brother, you made it.”

“Of course I made it.” Deet scowls, dry blood randomly speckled on his face, he wipes his sweaty brow, smearing the perspiration and red dots into thin crimson streaks.

With an exaggerated yawn, Yaz stands up and stretches out his arms. “No need for hostilities, and it’s good to see you too.”

Deet snorts. “What would be good would be to see Berta and our gear. Unless you hid them somewhere out of sight.”

“
What
?” Yaz frantically scans the clearing. “No!” He slaps his hands behind his head and hops on one leg. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” Deet says, lowering his gaze, his slow cloudy breath visible with every exhale as it mixes with the cool air. “So you didn’t stay up and guard the camp? You’re lucky they left you with your throats.”

“
Ah
,
ah
,
ah
,
you—
!” Yaz punches the sky twice.

Deet sighs and sways his head in disappointment. “Yaz, inventory what we have left.”

Yaz stops with wide eyes as if punched in the gut. “Nala!” He quickly hobbles to where Berta was tethered and circles the pine tree. He slaps the bark with his palm. “Damned bastards.” Yaz lifts Nala’s sheet-covered body off the ground and carries her to Deet.

“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of her, Yaz.”

“Dee, where’s your horse?” Preta says.

“Took two arrows and had to put him down. Though we should have a head start on Lomasie and his goons. Still, we need to move right now.” Deet points at the forest. “Preta, Agna, gather wood and make a fire bed. It’s time we say our goodbyes.”

In silence, they gather sticks and branches and logs and bring them to Yaz, who builds the fire bed.

Deet places Nala on the wood pile and kisses her forehead. “You were our rock and made us strong. We love you, and you’ll never be forgotten, Sister.” Deet extends his hand to Yaz.

Yaz glances at Deet then back to Nala. He shakes his head
no
and looks away as he wipes his wet, bloodshot eyes.

“Preta?” Deet says, gently placing his hand on her back.

Preta wipes her eyes. She sniffs. “Goodbye, Nala. You did your best after mother died, and we’ll always love you and never—” Preta snorts and wipes her eyes again. “Goodbye, Sister.”

They stand in silence for a minute, lost in their own emotions and memories.

Deet moves away from Preta and removes a half-charred branch from the fire pit, and he wedges it underneath Nala’s wooden bed.

Soon, flames engulf Nala. The heat radiating off is too much to handle and Preta steps away as she wipes her eyes from the burning tears and smoke.

The fire completely consumes Nala’s body, taking her away in a blaze.

Preta remembers the good times with her sister, the fire burning deep within her tongue and soul. She smiles, wondering who is burning whom—the fire burning Nala, or Nala burning the fire.

Preta grabs Yaz’s hand and squeezes hard.

Yaz tries to smile but can’t. He gazes back at the fire and lets go of her hand.

Agna stares at Preta and not the fire. With sad eyes and a faint smile, she nods.

“It’s time to go,” Deet says, turning away from his older sister. “Finish saying your goodbyes and do your business. We leave in five minutes.”

Deet walks over to Yaz, who is standing in front of a giant willow tree. He wraps his arm around him.

Preta leans in to listen to what Deet is saying.

“Never forget that, Yaz. Now, how bad did they get us last night?”

“Bad, Brother.” Ashamed, he looks down at the ground. “I’m sorry, I should’ve been more careful.”

“What’s done is done. How bad did they get us?”

Yaz points around the clearing to various areas of the camp. “Besides the obvious—all the food and bags not with us in the shelter. We still have most of our water, a few days of food, and important weapons. But they got the spare weapons, and
the
bag.”

“The
the
bag?” Deet says, opening his eyes wider.

“Yeah, Brother, sorry,
the
bag.”

“Crap—”

Yaz sighs. “I’m so stupid.”

“How about the map?” Deet says.

“I kept it on me,” and Yaz pats his front pants pocket.

“Well, at least we have that.”

Agna joins them and places her hands on hips. “
The
bag?”

Yaz rubs his eyes. “All of our coin and valuables.” He turns to Deet. “Do you have anything left?”

On the ground, on Yaz’s bearskin, Deet dumps the contents of his small, cracked leather pouch and one gold nib, silver equivalent to two whole, and coppers amounting to twenty fall out. He then tosses five paper Iinian credits equal to two silver on the coin pile.

Yaz turns over two pouches; one silver equivalent and thirty coppers tumble onto the pile.

Agna over turns her pouch, and one silver and six coppers fall out.

Deet pokes the pile with his finger. “One gold nib, six silver, fifty-six coppers. Agna, how much for passage to Iinia?”

Agna shrugs. “Maybe if we’re lucky we’ll find passage for a gold nib a piece or equivalent—if we’re lucky.”

Deet pokes the pile again. “That means we’re around one gold nib short for the four of us.”

“
If we’re lucky
,” Agna says, reminding him again.

“Right, we’ll worry about the money when the time comes. Gather your things and let’s go. I’ll lead. Yaz, cover the rear.”

“How far to the other side of the Yelton?” Preta says.

“Two days, but keep your eyes sharp, lots of dangers and those Acue may still follow us into the forest.”

Preta hikes close behind Deet, and after an hour, the path transforms into a small game trail. Eventually, the trail disappears altogether, and they hack through the brush. To keep her mind occupied, she counts from zero to a hundred, and after a hundred, she starts all over again.

Deet stops next to a small creek and crouches down, sticking his cupped hands in the slow moving water. He splashes the cool water in his face. “We’ll stop here for a few minutes. Break out the food, Preta.”

Preta drops her things. “I have to go,” and she runs toward a clump of thick bushes.

Deet nods at Agna. “Can you go with my sister?”

“No problem, I’ll keep her safe.”

“Thanks, we can’t be to careful in these woods, we’ve been lucky so far, I hope it stays that way.”

Preta makes her way deeper into the brush and squats behind a bush.

Yaz wanders into the woods fifty paces away from her.

“You remind me of one of my daughters when she was your age,” Agna says.

“Where’s your daughter now?”

“One lives in Ardinia, and the other lives in Bielston with her husband.”

Preta smiles. “Maybe we’ll see them soon.”

“Maybe,” Agna says, and then she sighs.

“Agna, I know you know more than you’re letting on. I saw you at the wedding when I killed the bird. And you were so close when the light hit me, and you know stories.”

“You’re very perceptive, Preta Penter. There are others like you in the world.”

“So are you like me?”

Agna chuckles. “No, and yes.”

Confused, Preta squints. “
No, and yes
? So that means you can do what I do?”

“Yes, and no.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“It’s not that simple, as you will someday learn.”

“Then what about the boy?”

Agna takes in a deep inhale and sighs. “His grandfather was bringing him to me for safekeeping.”

“Well, that didn’t work out so good,” Preta says.

“No—no, it didn’t.”

Preta pulls up her baggy wool trousers as she stands. “Why do—” She freezes and stares in Yaz’s direction. “Did you hear that?”

Agna tilts her head and peers into the thick trees, thin rays of morning light beam through the canopy. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Preta steps forward and shifts a large pine bough to the side. “I thought I heard Yaz yell, ‘Nala.’”

“
You did
—when?”

Preta holds up her finger. “
Shhh
—there—there it is again. He said, ‘Nala, is that you?’”

“
Impossible
.” Agna grabs Preta’s arm. “Let’s get back to Deet.”

They step on flat rocks poking through the flowing water and cross the small creek.

Deet, leaning against the base of a large pine with his head back and eyes closed, is off in his own world.

Agna hobbles behind Preta. She stops with hands on hips as she takes deep wheezing breaths.

Preta shakes Deet’s shoulder. “Wake up.”

“Huh?” Deet says, licking his lips and opening his eyes. “
Ah
—Preta. Ready to go already?”

“No, hey, did you hear Yaz? He yelled, ‘Nala.’”

“Slow down, what are you talking about?”

“Yaz, he yelled, ‘Nala,’ and then he ran into the woods after her.”

“
What
?” Deet turns toward Agna. “Did you hear anything?”

“No, nothing,” and she shrugs. “Though these old ears aren’t what they used to be.”

Deet pushes off the tree and grabs his sword. “Which direction did you see him go?”

Preta points to a row of short scraggly pine trees. “Over there.”

Deet nods at their packs. “Grab your things. We need to split up Yaz’s gear and bring it with us, it’s too easy to get lost in these woods.”

Deet rifles through Yaz’s pack and divides his belongings between Preta and Agna. “Preta, lead the way, and Agna, stay close.”

A GOOD LAUGH

Preta ducks under a low-hanging branch, and with conviction, she points to the right. “This is where I saw Yaz. He walked through this clearing calling for Nala.”

“Be vigilant,” Agna says, “and don’t trust what you can’t see.”

Preta races ahead, skipping over branches and weaving through the pine stumps and deadfall. She stops and presses her hand against a tree. “This is the last place I heard him, Dee.”

Deet spins around and steps in circles, looking in all directions for any sign of Yaz. “Do you hear that?”

“No,” Preta says, tilting her head to the side and concentrating harder. “What do you hear?”

“It sounded like…”

Agna shrugs at Preta. “I didn’t hear anything.”

Deet’s eyes narrow as he peers into the trees. “There—there it is again. Lurrus—
Lurrus
?” His eyes open wide, and he takes off running toward the voice.

Agna reaches out to grab Deet, but he slips through her sweaty fingers. “No! Deet, don’t listen.” Agna shakes Preta’s arm. “Go after your brother and stop him. But whatever you do, don't let me out of your sight, and only listen to my voice.”