Authors: Jane Fletcher
Scratch a group of commoners and find a demon-spawn hunting mob.
The thought was chilling, but were her fears overblown? Eldora and her family were decent people, as were most others she had met since leaving Ellaye. Alana could not imagine them joining with others to harm her, but equally, if they knew what she was, they would no longer treat her as part of their community. She would be an outcast, and Alana had learned enough in the past two years to know that without the support of neighbors, life in the mountains would be impossible.
Alana shifted the bag of grain on her shoulder. Would Gavin, owner of the small store, have sold chicken food to one of the demon-spawn? Would anyone tend her cow and hens if she fell ill? Would anyone help put out the fire if a thug with a grudge set her cottage alight? The answer to these questions might not be beyond doubt, but one “no” was all it took. The result was unavoidable. Alana dared not let anyone deep enough into her life that they might uncover the truth about her. So what was it about Deryn that made her ignore the risks?
Where are you keeping your brains these days?
Alana gave a wry grimace. Was that the answer—simply that she had been celibate for far too long? Maybe all she needed was to get laid. In which case, why not Deryn? The thought brought Alana up short, both literally and figuratively. She stopped and turned to stare back at Neupor, in the distance.
Why not Deryn?
Keeping her demon-spawn ability hidden from a serious, long-term partner would be impossible, but a long-term relationship was not on offer. Deryn’s work with the marshal’s men was only for winter. Unlike everyone else in Neupor, Deryn was a temporary fixture. In the spring the Iron Wolf would be off on the Misery Trail again. Surely that made her safe.
A short-term fling. Why not?
Alana felt an immediate recoil from the idea. Why?
Because it isn’t a short-term fling you want with her.
Alana frowned. That made no sense either. She had spent one night talking with Deryn and five minutes when she took the horse back. She did not know the woman well enough to make any sort of judgment about how serious a relationship with her might become. And if she went into the affair knowing they would part in a few short months, of course she would not, could not, lose her heart—not to a low-born Iron Wolf mercenary.
Oh yes. There’s my mother again.
Alana turned and carried on trudging up the hill.
Deryn was definitely doing strange things to her head—or possibly doing strange things inside her head. Alana was sure that she was genuinely attracted to Deryn, but she was equally sure that part of what she was feeling was picked up from the other woman. The sudden panic that had sent her running from the stable had seemed as though it was prompted by fear of exposing her demon-spawn ancestry, but it matched the way Deryn had run from her cottage the morning after they met.
Alana frowned, probing into her emotions, hunting for a response. Was that why the idea of a short fling felt wrong? The absurd, conflicting emotions were all Deryn, maybe due to her tragic background? Who could say what Deryn was looking for in a relationship? Unless Alana could push Deryn out of her head, how on earth could she work out what she truly wanted for herself? And without knowing the answer to that, how could she ever hope to be happy?
Instinctively Alana’s hand clasped the talisman at her neck. She so desperately wanted to regain her barriers and shut the world out. Part of her reason for going into Neupor that day was to see how much progress she was making. The small hamlet was not much of a test, but she thought she was coping with the massed bombardment of emotions better than before. She might never be able to return to Ellaye, but this was no problem. She was far happier out of that game and had no wish to go back. She just desperately needed to be sure of who she was.
Her cottage came into view. Alana raised her eyes. Above the flank of Mount Pizgar, the distant peak of Voodoo Mountain broke the skyline. The mountain held a grim place in local legend. Alana had heard all the stories tying it with the Age of Chaos, the demons and those they possessed. Alana sighed. The evil villains of the stories were her ancestors. The past was not forgotten and could not be undone. It still cast its shadow over the living. If the commoners hated the demon-spawn, it might not be fair, but it was not without cause.
Beads of sweat were trickling down her back, due to the exertion of climbing the hill with the heavy sack. Despite this, Alana shivered.
Nyla’s farm lay at the head of Sprig Valley, on the same road as Finn’s, but several miles closer to Neupor. Tia had made the short journey without problem. Deryn tied the mare’s reins to a post and stood, puzzling over the ramshackle farmstead. From what she could see, the farm’s most noteworthy feature was that it lay in an even worse state of repair than any of the others along the way. Why was Nevin bothered about this one?
“What’s so important about Nyla?”
Although many would have claimed it was impossible, Ross managed to look more confused than normal. “Nothing. She’s just a farmer.”
“I mean, why has Nevin dragged us out here?”
“Like he said. Because she’s had some sheep stolen.”
Deryn rested her forehead on Tia’s flank, trying to summon strength from her horse. There had to be something special about Nyla, or her farm. Unlike the previous report of lost sheep, as soon as the news arrived, Nevin had chivvied her and Ross into saddling their horses as if he had a hot coal up his butt. They had ridden off to investigate, without a chance to talk outside his hearing.
Deryn stepped away from Tia’s side and raised her head. Nevin had not reappeared from the farmhouse. Would she have long enough to wheedle any information out of Ross? Would it be worth the effort if she did?
“There has to be more to it. When Finn’s sheep went missing, Nevin couldn’t have cared less. But one word from this Nyla and it’s like his ass is on fire.”
Deep furrows appeared on Ross’s brow as he struggled with the problem. At last he shrugged. “I dunno. I guess he likes his sister more than he likes Finn.”
The door to the farmhouse opened. Deryn took one look and smiled. If only she had waited a little longer, she could have saved herself the effort of questioning Ross. As far as appearances went, the main difference between the two siblings was that Nevin’s chins were covered in dark stubble. Most likely, his sister was clean faced only because she did not need to shave, but Deryn wanted to reserve judgment until she got a closer look at the farmer.
“Right, you two. Get over here.” Nevin bellowed the order.
His sister had already plodded off, leading the way along a muddy track, past a horse trough covered with a layer of green slime, a hay barn that looked on the point of collapse, a vegetable plot that seemed to be used mainly for growing weeds, and the remains of a cart with a snapped axle. The conclusion Deryn drew was that Nyla was as good a farmer as Nevin was a soldier. Even the sheepdogs acted bored.
Nyla stopped by a pasture that was half stocked with dejected-looking sheep. Admittedly dejection was the natural demeanor for sheep, but these did seem less happy with their lot than normal. Deryn was not surprised.
The farmer pointed at the gate. “What are you going to do about it?”
Deryn was aware both Nyla and Nevin were glaring at her, obviously waiting for an answer. She frowned. It was not a very nice gate, but in no worse a state than anything else in the farm.
“What do you think needs doing?”
“My sister has had some of her sheep stolen. She doesn’t need smart-ass comments from you,” Nevin snarled.
“Sorry. I’m just confused what role this gate has in the theft.”
“The fucking gate was open when I woke up this morning. Sheep were wandering all over the damned place. I was pissed enough about that. But when I rounded them up I found the fucking bastards had swiped two.” Nyla clearly had a turn of phrase to match her brother.
“You think thieves left the gate open?”
“Who the fuck else would it be? The sheep can’t open it themselves.”
“You’re sure you didn’t leave the gate open last night?”
“Of course I’m fucking sure. Do you think I’m a fool or something?”
Definitely
“
or something.
” Deryn kept the thought to herself. “Where did you find the ones that had strayed?”
“What’s that got to do with it?”
“Because if I’m looking for prints, I don’t want to start tracking sheep you’ve already brought back.”
Nevin always seemed to take malicious satisfaction from withholding information and refusing to answer questions. Judging by Nyla’s frown, she would have liked to play the same game, but her desire to get her sheep back stood in the way. “Most hadn’t gone far. They were hanging around outside the gate.”
The sheep clearly lacked ambition. If Deryn had been one of them, she would have been off to find a better farm and would still be running. “And the rest?”
“They were up in the woods, weren’t they?” Nyla’s tone implied Deryn was stupid not to have guessed. “It’s taken me hours to round the buggers up.”
Nevin folded his arms so that they rested on top of his stomach. “So go on. You’re supposed to be the shit-hot scout. Look for tracks. Show us how the Iron Wolves do things.”
Ignoring her sneering audience, Deryn took a moment to examine the gate. Despite its poor condition, it would not have swung open on its own, although this was not proof that thieves were at work. Deryn’s own personal bet still went on Nyla neglecting to latch it properly. If she shared her brother’s drinking habits, she would rarely go to bed sober. Deryn’s second guess was a prank by one of the neighbors’ children, or even someone older who held a grudge. Anyone blessed with Nyla’s personality had to have more than her fair share of enemies.
The ground around the gate was pockmarked by the passage of small hooves. Deryn shook her head. “Any tracks here have been trampled by the sheep.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“I’ll run a wide sweep and see if I can pick up any trace of the missing two.”
Nevin pouted, mimicking deliberation. “Right. Report back to the farmhouse when you’re done. And take Ross with you for backup.”
While you and your sister put your feet up by the fire.
Deryn cynically watched the siblings trudge back down the path. “Who’d have thought Nevin’s sister would be even more lovable than him?”
“You think Nevin’s lovable?”
“Don’t you?”
“Not really.” Ross frowned for a few seconds but then his confusion changed to excitement. “Do you think we’ll catch the thieves?”
“No. But we might find the sheep.”
“Won’t the thieves have them?”
“I doubt it.”
Deryn was sure the sheep were missing only because Nyla’s search had not been thorough enough. But where to start?
Try to think like a sheep. Which direction looks like being the most fun for wandering off?
The trouble with this approach was that sheep were notorious for not thinking.
On the other side of the river, the long ridge leading up Mount Pizgar’s peak formed the western flank of Sprig Valley. Alana’s cottage was just over the tree-lined crest.
I could go visit her. This time it would be my turn to run away.
Even though the distance was about three miles, Deryn knew she could convince Ross that finding the lost sheep there was a genuine possibility. Unfortunately, he was the only one. Nyla and Nevin would not be so gullible. Deryn sighed and turned around.
Nyla’s farm backed onto the slopes of Voodoo Mountain. The region was scored with steep-sided valleys. In places, bare rock broke through the tree cover. The forest ended only a few dozen yards away. Ranks of conifers were densely packed, with undergrowth covering the ground between, more matted than in the forest behind Finn’s farm.
It did not look promising territory for sheep. Surely the lush water meadows would attract them more. However, Nyla claimed a few had ventured into the forest. Why would they do that, unless bleats from other members of their flock had drawn them in? This still left the question of what had prompted the first few sheep to explore the forest, but it made as good a rationale as any for where to start the search. It was not worthwhile trying to analyze sheep’s motives in too much detail.
“Okay, Ross. We’ll start by checking out the woods.”
“It’s not a good place.”
“You’re right. It’s going to be very hard to find sheep in there.”
“Not talking about the sheep. It’s the mountain.”
“What about it?”
“It’s haunted.”
“What?”
Ross was staring up at the peak of Voodoo Mountain. “The Witch-Lord lives there. He’s evil. He’ll kill us if he catches us.”
What do you say to a frightened three-year-old? “Don’t worry. He’s probably out visiting someone today.”
“He killed Delmar.”
“Was Delmar a friend of yours?”
“In the story. The Witch-Lord tricked Delmar and killed him. Then the Witch-Lord got smashed to pieces, but his spirit is still on the mountain.”