Heavy mist clung to Kaelyn, soaking through her clothes and dripping from her hair. It had been days since they’d crawled from the passage in the catacombs.
With a sigh, Wyndham squatted in the shelter of a low-hanging pine bough. He patted the ground beside him and she huddled close. It reminded her of the last time she’d been soaked through, sitting by the Lord of Newalden’s fire, trying desperately not to stare at Talar.
Heat swept over her, leaving her cold and unsettled. She didn’t want to think of Talar, nor of Wyndham next to her. She didn’t want to think at all. Her life had somehow become something that bards might actually sing about. Adventure and intrigue, an Oracle, a prince, and taverns and cities burning down. Too bad the thought of living a life that bards sang about didn’t thrill her.
She’d wake at night sweating, scared, and scanning their small, dark camp for Wyndham, unable to relax for hours. The reaction was probably a good thing. After all, Aric was probably still looking for them. While stealing a homespun shirt for Wyndham and new breeches for her at a nearby village, they’d heard whispers from the townspeople about the massacre at Mythnar. The story was that the royal guard fought valiantly against a clansman army, but they knew different. And if the tales reached Vitreah before they did, war was a certainty.
Neither of them chose to mention that if the garrison at Mythnar had plotted treason then the soldiers at Vitreah might have, too. That, and Aric had said he was following a royal command. The question was, whose? Either way, it could mean Wyndham’s brothers might already be dead, or involved. Neither was a pleasant situation. All they could do was hope that it wasn’t true and that the massacre at Mythnar hadn’t been planned.
She ran her hands over her face. Her features felt gaunt, even more so than when she’d stared at herself in the mirror back in Mythnar. Neither she nor Wyndham were competent hunters, especially with their only weapons being swords. If it wasn’t for the mysteriously disappearing and reappearing Cat, they would have probably starved days ago. As it was, Cat only managed to bring single rabbits, squirrels, or pigeons, and the presents only appeared every second or third day.
And that’s no easy feat, said Cat in her head.
I see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence. She wiped a trickle of water from her face.
He didn’t reply.
One of these days you’re going to have to explain your long absences and your miraculous ability to find me.
She felt a mental shrug and then Cat’s presence in her mind disappeared. Which never ceased to amaze her. A few days after she and Wyndham had escaped from Mythnar, Cat said hello in her head and started leaving the edible presents. She’d yet to see him, but knew he was near, following, watching, perhaps even guarding. Before his reappearance, she couldn’t remember when she’d seen him last. She didn’t recall him at the temple, or during the journey back to Mythnar, but given her lack of interest in everything at the time it didn’t surprise her that she couldn’t remember.
“I don’t think this drizzle is going to stop,” said Wyndham.
She shook her head and more water seeped down her face.
“We should probably keep going.”
She didn’t like the idea, but they didn’t really have the leisure to wait on something as harmless as a heavy mist. She pushed herself to her feet.
They hadn’t gone far when it turned into a downpour of cold drops that stung when it hit flesh. Lightning cut through the curtain of water and thunder rumbled. She grabbed Wyndham’s arm to keep him close.
“We have to get out of this,” he said, barely audible over the rain.
There’s a house up ahead, said Cat. It looks abandoned.
“It looks like there might be something up ahead,” said Kaelyn.
“How can you see anything in this?”
She grabbed his hand and shoved through the underbrush into a clearing.
Lightning lit the area revealing an enormous, dilapidated house.
This isn’t a house. It’s a mansion.
I’m a cat. Everything’s big to me.
No, you just enjoy understating things to be shocking.
He didn’t reply.
Wyndham stepped toward it. “How did you–?”
Thunder crashed and the wind gusted, whipping dead leaves and twigs into the air. “Let’s get inside.”
She rushed to the house, Wyndham at her side. The mansion looked like it was on the verge of collapse. The walls buckled and the roof sagged. Behind it, the forest pressed close, with trees growing against it, creating the illusion that the mansion disappeared into the forest. But for all its dilapidated state, boards covered the windows on the first floor and secured the front door.
Wyndham tugged at the door. “We can’t get in this way.”
Kaelyn squinted into the downpour. It looked like the second-story windows weren’t boarded up. The rain stung, sharp and cold. Something bit her cheek and she jerked back. Hail bounced off her boots, pelting her shoulders, arms, head, and neck. She pressed close to the door, Wyndham beside her, but the hail still hit them.
“It looks like the second floor windows might be open.”
Wyndham nodded. “The right side should protect us a bit from the hail.”
They ran around the corner, hugging the walls to keep out of the icy assault, making their way to the first tree that pressed against the building. The closest window was a few feet away. One shutter hung on a single hinge on an angle across the opening and the other was missing.
Kaelyn swung up and climbed to a wide branch leaning against the house. Straddling it, she inched her way toward the roof.
Cat raced up the trunk, scampered across the branch and leapt through the window.
All safe.
“Good to know, now that I’m almost there,” she mumbled.
I heard that.
Cats. She rolled her eyes and scrambled the rest of the way into the house.
Lightning lit a room covered in dust, cobwebs, and animal debris. It held the skeleton of a large four-poster bed with the tattered remains of a mattress and blankets. Across from it sat a wide stack of drawers, a chest, and two thick chair frames with scrapes of moth-eaten stuffing.
Wyndham tumbled into the room beside her and wiped water from his face. Lightning lit the room again.
“Well, we’ll certainly have a ghost story to share when we get home.”
Cat sneezed and began to groom the water from his fur.
“It’s not that scary.” She stood and tried to brush the layer of dust from her clothes, but the rain glued it there. “It’s just an old, forgotten house, which is probably saving our lives.”
Wyndham gave her a strange look, then flashed his lopsided smile. “You can’t remember the scary stories Reynold use to tell us about haunted houses.”
She sighed. “No. But if there are any ghosts here they’re just going to have to share for the night.”
Thunder boomed and the house shook.
“I don’t particularly like to share,” said a raspy voice.
Kaelyn jumped, her heart pounding. She searched for the owner of the voice but couldn’t see anyone.
“However, on a night like tonight I will make an exception.”
Lightning flickered and illuminated a man standing in the doorway, but darkness shrouded them before she could get a clear look.
Thunder rolled over them again.
“Thank you?” she said, trying to keep her uncertainty from her voice.
Light suddenly flooded the room and she realized the man held a lantern. But she hadn’t heard or seen him light it.
“Come on,” he said. “We should get you warmed up and into the safe part of the house.”
He was a tiny man. Wisps of white hair framed a wrinkled face speckled with age spots. He hunched, ever-so-slightly, making him look even smaller, and the hand holding the lantern looked more like a claw. He turned on his heel, his dark robe swishing up dust.
She glanced at Wyndham, who shrugged. She couldn’t decide if it was safe to follow this man, but then, they didn’t have much choice. Besides, how dangerous could an old man be?
The man shuffled down the hall, making it easy to catch up to him. The beam of light from his lantern illuminated a tired, filthy hall, that looked as if it hadn’t been touched by anything but spiders and mice for years. They followed him down creaky stairs and into a kitchen. It was unadorned, uncluttered and all possible surfaces appeared clean. A stark contrast to the rest of the house. He set the lantern on a long wood table, and waved at the stools beside it. Kaelyn and Wyndham sat.
“We didn’t think anyone lived here,” said Kaelyn.
The man grunted as he built up the fire in the hearth. This didn’t encourage conversation, which she suspected, was the idea.
Wyndham ran a hand through his wet hair. “I wonder how long this storm will last.”
“As long as it has to,” said the man.
That was one way of looking at it.
“You can stay as long as the storm does.”
“Thank you,” said Wyndham.
The man took two battered ceramic mugs from a cupboard, a small silver strainer, and poured out tea for them. “Down the hall.” He pointed at a hall on the opposite side of the kitchen from the stairs where they’d first entered. “Up the stairs. First doors on your left and right. No other rooms.”
He leveled his gaze on Wyndham then slid it over to Kaelyn. She shivered and hugged her mug.
“No other rooms.”
“Yes,” said Wyndham.
The man harrumphed and shuffled out of the kitchen, leaving them in the strange house with the lantern and each a cup of tea.
“What do you think?” asked Wyndham.
“Odd.” She stared into the murky liquid in her mug.
“Do you think we’re safe?”
“I have no clue.” Something popped to the surface of her tea. She poked it with her finger.
“We leave as soon as the storm passes,” said Wyndham.
“No disagreement here.” Everything about this place felt wrong all of a sudden. She stood and dumped the contents of her mug into the hearth, careful not to douse the fire. “Sorry about the tea.”
Wyndham stepped beside her and emptied his mug as well.
The fire crackled and hissed. The heat seeped into her damp clothes, warming her skin. It would be nice if she could just stand there forever and melt everything, particularly the remains of the ice within her. Something about the old man wasn’t right and the storm would eventually end. And really, they should get some rest while safe from the elements. Although safe seemed a relative term at the moment.
