Part 38 (1/2)

”What is it, boy?”

Talen scanned the woods and caught movement out of the side of his eye. He turned.

Iron Boy pulled to a stop, blew his lips, and stamped one foot.

”Where are they?” asked Nettle.

”It's not a they,” said Talen. ”It's an it.”

”Where?”

Talen pointed at a tree in front of them. Something was standing in the boughs about halfway up. It was not a mountain cat. Not nearly that large. Nor was not one of those troublesome monkeys that were expert in stealing everything from knives to fruit. It was about the size of a small dog, hunched, and long-limbed.

He looked closer. It was a light gray, the color of shadow and bark, and its limbs seemed awkward and long. Or maybe it was just the light. ”What is that?”

Nettle followed Talen's gaze and stared. ”Well, it's kind of hard to say. I can't be sure, but it looks like a tree to me.”

”Goh, in the tree. About fifteen feet up that pine. There's something looking at us.”

Nettle looked at Talen; he looked back at the tree, squinted, and looked back at Talen again.

”Nothing's there.”

”It's right in front of your face.”

”Hallucinations.” Nettle said. ”Maybe those stupid sweet almond abominations did have come-backs.”

Talen wasn't seeing things. It was right there.

”I never have this problem with bread pudding,” said Nettle.

Whatever it was moved out of the shadows of the trees and into the waning light.

Talen blinked. It was still there.

Iron Boy chuffed.

”See that?” Talen asked. ”Iron Boy didn't have any sweet almond.”

He had to admit the coloring of the thing made it difficult to see. It put him in mind of insects that camouflaged themselves to look exactly like bark or leaves.

”There's nothing in the tree,” said Nettle. ”Nothing on the trail. Let's just get home.”

Talen flicked the reins and started Iron Boy into a trot. The mule protested and tried to turn away, but Talen gave the reins a good tug to keep him on the road and put Iron Boy in motion.

When they pa.s.sed by the pine, the creature began to move again.

Iron Boy whinnied and picked up his gait.

The creature swung down the limbs of the tree to the pine needles on the road. Then it began scampering after the wagon in an odd, hunched gait, quickly closing the distance.

”You're right,” said Talen, ”I'm hallucinating.”

Because if he wasn't, that meant they'd attracted the attention of a small nightmare. What else could it be? As the thing drew nearer, Talen could more easily discern the eyes, hands, and feet. But they were misshapen. The nose was flat and crooked. The fingers too long.

There were creatures not wholly of this world. There were the mighty skir that the Divines enthralled; there were the souls of the dead. But there were also other things, some of which could, under certain circ.u.mstances, be seen with the naked eye. This thing matched the descriptions of one of those. Talen had never seen one before, but he'd heard about them. They fed upon the Fire of the weak and dying. Like the creatures that ate carrion of the flesh, they were attracted by death and disease. They shadowed the edges of armies and hid in cellars and that thatch roofs of villages smitten by pestilence. They did not flock in great numbers like crows and ravens. At least, he'd never heard tell of anyone seeing more than a handful together at once. But did numbers matter? When they got a hold of you, they burrowed in like ticks to gorge upon your Fire. And like ticks they were hard to dislodge and sometimes left bits of themselves behind.

G.o.dsweed was supposed to keep them at bay which is why soldiers smoked themselves with it before battle. Drinking it in a tea was also supposed to help, but such a tea gave men horrible cramps. Talen reached up and felt the G.o.dsweed braid on his arm. Even wearing the herb was supposed to have an effect.

Iron Boy trotted down the road, nervously turning his head to the left then right so he could get a better view of what was behind him.

Talen looked back again and the hair stood up on the back of his neck. The odd-limbed thing was only a few paces behind them.

”Cousin,” Talen said, ”I believe that we've just attracted ourselves a fright.”

At that moment the creature closed the final distance, then grabbed the wagon bed with one long-fingered hand and disappeared underneath.

30.

Secrets ”IT'S UNDER THE WAGON,” Talen said.

Iron Boy kicked and jerked into a canter.

”Will you shut up,” Nettle said. ”You're giving me the w.i.l.l.i.e.s.”

Iron Boy tossed his head. He might bolt, and it would not do to lose control of the wagon, so Talen braced himself, but he felt like he did after an exceedingly hard day's worth of work. And then such a wave of weariness fell upon him that he could not keep his eyes open. He sagged into Nettle.

Nettle elbowed him back to his senses. ”What are you doing?”

”I think the come-backs have finally worked their way through,” Talen said. ”Take the reins. I've got to lie down.”

”What about your fright?” asked Nettle.

Talen looked down at the boards beneath his feet. Frights did not have power to steal from a healthy man. He and Nettle had nothing to fear. And panicking might only lead to them cras.h.i.+ng the wagon. Besides, they had G.o.dsweed with them.

”It's gone,” said Talen. ”A vapor of my mind.”

”Lords and lice,” Nettle said, ”I've never heard of come-backs like this. We've got to get you to River.”

Talen wasn't going to argue. ”Sure,” he said. Then he handed the reins to Nettle and half-climbed, half-fell into the wagon bed.

He rode that way, flat on his back, looking up at the tops of the pines and the darkening sky beyond. Nettle drove too fast. Once, Talen almost b.u.mped completely out of the wagon bed. But he couldn't bring himself to object. Nettle kept turning around to look at him. At one point he reached down to feel Talen's forehead for fever, then turned back and spurred Iron Boy even faster.

Talen said nothing. The moon and the stars shone through the breaks in the tops of the trees. After a time he realized something cold lay on his ankle. Talen looked down. There, squatting in the back corner of the wagon bed was the fright. It was a hideous thing, all twisted and gray like a piece of knotty driftwood. One of its long fingers touched Talen on the bare skin of his ankle.

He kicked, and the thing released him, but it soon stretched out its finger once again.