So now I had a problem, as if I didn’t have enough already. Elara stepped over and linked her arm in mine. Whether for her comfort or mine, I didn’t know, but I appreciated it all the same.

‘Well now, Del, this is a bit of a pickle.’ I shake my head at the predicament. I unsling the bow and quiver and pass them to Elara.

“I need to think,” I say. “Keep an eye on Seth, but don’t kill him unless you have to.”

I see Seth take a visible gulp. ‘Funny, I thought that was just a saying; well, you learn something new every day,’ I think with a wry trace of amusement. I step away a bit and start pacing, my mind racing as I try to consider our options.

‘I am not a murderer.’ It’s my first thought, filled with conviction. ‘An easy option, but totally off the table unless he’s really, really stupid.’ The path crunches slightly underfoot as I pace, and the birds seem to have gone to quieter spots to sing from; I can’t blame them.

I look at him. “Tell me about this wizard,” I say.

Seth almost startles as I address him; he’s been half-hiding beneath Newt’s bulk, soothing him with gentle words. He looks up. “What do you want to know?”

“I don’t know—everything?” I shrug. “I don’t know anything about him, so I need to know whatever you can tell me, especially if he’s after Elara.”

Seth purses his lips. “I don’t really know a lot. He’s lived up in the high woods near the river spring for as long as I can remember.”

“What makes you say he’s a wizard?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “It’s a rumour that goes around the villages—maybe just something to frighten the kids. But everyone says he’s an old wizard who fought in the last heaving.”

That grabs my attention. ‘Heaving? What the heck was that?’ I look at him. How much does he know, and how much is just gossip and rumour?

“I’m not from around here,” I say. “What is this heaving? When was it?”

Seth gives me an odd, almost confused look. For that matter, so does Elara.

“You don’t know the heaving? Everyone knows the heaving.”

“Well, I’m not everyone, so just assume I have no idea what you’re talking about and tell me.”

Still looking puzzled, he explains how the Underdark creatures grow too numerous every couple of hundred years or so and break through to the surface in random locations across Gondowa. Seeking to carve new territory to expand their numbers, they’ve, in times past, torn down entire kingdoms. The heaving leads to a congress of all the sapient races to quell the tide of destruction before it can take hold.

“Three heavings ago, the congress wasn’t enough, and the halflings were almost totally wiped out. They still have only a few scattered villages left from their once vast holdings.” I hear sadness in his voice and sense the fear that even mentioning the heaving brings out in him.

“And this wizard fought in the last heaving?” I ask. “When was this?”

Elara speaks up. “Just over 170 years ago.”

“So this man—I assume the wizard is human, or is he another race?—has been around for at least a couple of hundred years?” I ask.

“Maybe more,” Seth answers. “At least, that’s what the stories say. And yes, he seems human enough to me.”

‘So, Del, we have some powerful bloke up in the hills who’s after Elara.’ I look at my friend. Had I really only known her a couple of days? It seems longer. ‘Well, he can’t have her. Nope, we need to find out more.’

Elara is looking at me a bit oddly. “You look lost in thought,” she says. “Care to share?”

“It’s a lot to process,” I say simply. “Seth, do you know anything more about why he wanted Elara, or anything else about him—a name, for example?”

He shrugs. “Can’t really say; we just always called him the wizard.” He casually strokes Newt, who is snoring in a rhythmic, almost relaxing sound. “He came by the yard a couple of days before you showed up, as I said. Told us he was looking for an elf girl and offered a whole gold piece if we found one and brought her to him.”

“Did he give you a description?” Elara asks.

“Not really, just young and probably travelling alone. I don’t mess with back-chatting magic users, so we just said okay, and he left.” He waves his hand to indicate Elara and me. “Then you two turned up. I already told you what happened after that.”

“You also mentioned slavers,” I say. “Are there a lot of them around?”

“Not really, never seen one myself,” he answers with a shrug. “But in the taverns you can usually find their agents, and they’re always willing to trade. Normally, they buy up thieves and whatnot, as not many places have somewhere to keep wrong ‘uns that don’t deserve a hanging.”

I nod, adding yet more things to keep in mind about this world. But that could wait, as I had more pressing matters to consider.

Like what the hell I was going to do now—steer clear of strange powerful people who want one or the other of us for reasons unknown. Seth was a problem I hadn’t yet figured out how to solve, and we still needed to find somewhere to get Elara the training she needs.

‘Even if that man is really a wizard, he’s not the trainer she needs,’ I consider with absolute certainty. ‘Teachers don’t go around trying to have new students kidnapped.’ But we do need to find out more about this man and what he might want with her. I look long and hard at Seth, sat there in front of me, cuddling his dog. He was, in every sense of the word, a simple woodsman: functional clothing, large calloused hands, and weathered skin from years of outdoor labour. Not a threat—yet potentially the biggest threat I’ve faced so far. He knew I was responsible for his brother’s death, and he had kidnapped Elara. To deliver her to lord knows what the wizard had planned. Yet, when faced up to it, he’d stood down and given what help he could in terms of information. Could I let him go and trust that he wouldn’t turn up one night with a knife to my throat?

Stolen novel; please report.

‘I am not a murderer,’ I reaffirm as I tussle with the problem at hand.

“What am I—are we,” I adjust to include Elara, “going to do about you?”

“How do you mean?” Seth asks, his voice trembling slightly. His eyes flick around nervously, and I notice Newt stir, picking up on Seth’s anxiety.

“You acted badly towards us. You’ve no idea what fate you were taking Elara to, and even though you say you didn’t know Bran’s intentions to kill me, you must have had some inkling.” I watch as small beads of sweat form on his forehead and his hands tremble, despite his efforts to hide it by stroking the dog.

“Now Bran is dead, and you… well, like I said, I don’t know what to do about you.”

“Do you think we should kill him?” Elara asks, her voice firm but laced with concern. Seth’s eyes go wide, the fear and alarm plain on his face.

“Please, don’t kill me,” he almost whispers, his voice hoarse. “Please.”

“No, I don’t, but I also don’t know what to do. I honestly think Bran was the driving force behind this, and he’s already paid the price.” I sigh, watching as hope mixes with the swirling emotions on Seth’s face.

“But I can’t just leave you, knowing you might come back another time, looking for an advantage.”

I was having this discussion in front of Seth, though I didn’t really know why. Maybe I wanted him to know he was in debt to us by still breathing, or maybe I wanted him to understand that I’d considered him and found him no longer a threat. But the real reason might be my own fear: that it would be too easy to make a call, to lose my sense of right and wrong in this place. I could feel how close it was, that wrong decision, lurking there.

Elara spoke up. “Seth, what would you do if we let you go?”

He looked at her, a tear forming at the corner of his eye.

“Go back and bury Bran,” he says quietly. “Then Newt and I would pack up what we could and move on.” He gives a sad, half-smile. “I’ve always wanted to make furniture, but Bran said it wouldn’t pay. Well, he doesn’t get a say anymore. I’ll move well away from here, away from wizards and scary cats, and set up a place to sell tables and things people need.”

I smiled. “If that’s what you’re going to do, Seth, then I guess you’d better do it. Maybe one day I’ll find your shop and buy a comfortable chair from you.” Then I let steel edge into my tone. “But if I ever see you again in a way that makes me feel threatened, you’ll join your brother.”

The look in his eyes tells me he’s taken the point to heart. I was putting a lot of faith in a man I barely knew, one who’d been part of a plan to harm us. ‘Dammit, Del, better a fool than a cold-blooded murderer.’

“Okay, get up. Go,” I say, then turn to Misty. “Keep an eye on him, girl. Make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.”

Misty jumps up onto a branch, giving a dramatic hiss. Seth glances at her, as does Newt, trepidation in both their eyes.

I give her a mental nudge. ‘Follow them for a mile or so, let them catch the odd glimpse of you, but stay hidden. If they head back to the yard, catch up with us. We’ll take a short break, then head back to the river and down to the village.’ I shake my head; it amazed me how I was getting used to this way of communicating with her. I just hoped she’d start using words someday.

As Seth and Newt disappeared down the narrow trail, I looked over at Elara. Tears were streaming down her face, the strong, determined woman I’d seen a moment ago was now suddenly vulnerable. In a step, she was in my arms, gripping me tightly, her silent tears wetting my shoulder.

“I thought you were dead,” she sniffled. “And I soon would be too.”

I let her cry, gently stroking her hair and back.

“You’re safe now,” I said softly. “Both safe and well again.”

She releases her grip and steps back as I reach into the pack, pulling out the waterskin and handing it to her. She takes a few gulps, then wipes the last of the tears from her face. She glances around at the bit of wood we’re in.

“Let’s go, then,” she says, and without a second look back, she leads the way back to the river.

The last few miles are uneventful. We see a few more of those not-rabbits fishing in the river. ‘I really must find out what they are,’ I muse. Otherwise, our footfalls are accompanied only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional bird call warning of our approach. Once, I catch a glimpse of ginger fur in the tall grasses and feel the touch of a satisfied mind. Someone’s been munching fish, I’m smugly informed. By mid-afternoon, we can see the haze of drifting smoke ahead and smell the distinct aroma of cooking food and woodsmoke. The village is close. I can’t deny a bit of unease, though. Had that old wizard put a target on our backs here too? Forward was the only way now, but I knew caution would be needed for whatever lay ahead.