Chapter Thirty - Left Behind

‘See that?’

Goran squinted into the dusky dark. There was light coming between the trees, up east of them, blinking. The blacksmith grunted, nodding.

‘A mile, maybe less.’

‘The old Greycloak tower’s up that way.’ Goran added, frowning.

The blacksmith didn’t reply. He was watching the blinking light with dark eyes, hood full of shadows. The last light of the day snatched a glimpse through the clouds overhead, gleaming against the pale scar beneath his black beard.

‘We should wait.’

‘Wait?’ Goran asked, frowning even harder. ‘For what?’

‘For the storm.’

Goran blinked, looking back over his shoulder. Dark clouds were beginning to clot at the top of the Teeth, shifting, but they were a ways off, yet, and there wasn’t much light left. He never had been one for counting the hours. But an hour one way or another here could make all the difference.

‘You sure?’

‘We don’t know how many are up there. And we don’t have time to wait for the others.’ the blacksmith told him, not looking up. ‘We’ll take whatever edge we can get.’

Goran thought about it for a moment, then pursed his lips, looking back at the blinking light. They’d been on the move most of the day, and most of the night before it. It was slow going in the stones and slick-water of the hills, slower still when you were bent over them looking for tracks. He’d managed to snatch some sleep when they’d stopped for water at midday, but what little he’d got was dogged by dark faces and darker thoughts. They’d not seen any of the other searchers, and Goran reckoned they’d gone well past where the others would have roamed, by now. Besides, it didn’t seem to matter how many they were, anymore. Not as much as it had, before. Before the barn. Before the fire. Before the blacksmith walked back out of the smoke, bloody sword in hand. One might be enough.

‘So we wait?’

‘We wait.’ the blacksmith replied.

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Goran sighed, sitting down again and setting his back against a tree trunk. The blacksmith stood with his back to him, watching the trees. He’d spoken barely a word all day, bent over the stones like a giant hound sniffing for a trail, and the innkeep’s tongue was close to bursting. The giant man’s cloak streamed in the wind, and the hilt at his waist gleamed dull silver.

‘Not seen steel like that before.’

If the blacksmith heard him, he gave no sign of it. Goran frowned.

‘Never seen you carry it, before, neither.’

‘Never needed to.’ the man replied quietly. ‘Not for a long while.’

‘Back there, in the barn…’

‘There are some questions to which you do not want the answers.’ the blacksmith told him without turning.

Goran watched the big man’s back, words caught in his throat. Then he closed his mouth, nodding to himself. A man had a right to his secrets, he reckoned. Besides, there’d be plenty of time for his questions. After. After they had their boys back. In the west, the sun was winking against the blue-green blur of the horizon, sending orange light scattering through the pines.

‘Lokk always liked the sunset.’ Goran said quietly. ‘Ever since he was a boy.’

The blacksmith didn’t turn. Goran sighed.

‘Used to catch him out past dinnertime, on the rocks above town, watching it, when he was younger.’ the innkeep snorted, smiling. ‘Knew he was grown, the first time I caught him up there with company, if you catch my meaning.’

The wind whispered over the trees, and the clouds drew in overhead. The sun was almost gone.

‘I was hard on him. I know it.’ Goran found himself saying, more to himself than anything. ‘Boy was a right lazy prick when he wanted to be. Spent more time drinking the ale than serving it, this year past. Not sure what I’d do without him, though. Or Carel, either. She makes like she wishes he weren’t there, but we all know that’s just her way.’

Goran rubbed at his aching legs, frowning.

‘Funny thing, life, ain’t it. Spent half my time wishing he was better. But I’d give my own arm to have him back, just as he was. For Carel, too. Gods know that girl’s been through enough.’

Goran took a deep breath, realising there was a lump in his throat.

‘I failed him. He’s my son. And I couldn’t keep him safe.’

The blacksmith turned slightly, looking back over his shoulder.

‘You didn’t fail him.’ the man said simply, dark eyes meeting his. ‘Try to hard too save someone and you might doom them all the same. No man sees all ends.’

Goran opened his mouth to reply, frowning, then closed it again. The blacksmith turned back to the dark again, and the silent chill of the wind whispered through the trees.

‘Sun’s gone.’

Goran looked. The last sliver of orange light had dipped below the horizon, leaving an orange smudge across the gathering dark.

‘It’s time then.’ the innkeep said, getting slowly to his feet.

‘Yes.’ the blacksmith agreed.

Goran fingered the iron at his waist, looking towards the winking light. ‘Let’s go get our boys back, then.’

He took one step. Just one. Then something hard cracked over the back of his head, and his eyes went slack.

Sometime later, a lone, dark figure climbed away into the trees. Behind him, the innkeep lay hidden, curled in the shadow of a tree. He might have been sleeping, if not for the lump swelling out of his scalp. Ahead, the firelight blinked through the darkening pines, and black eyes watched it as they climbed, ready, at last, for an end to their waiting.