On the following day, as Baard unbarred the stable door, Whitecap greeted him with a nervous snort and a stomp of her massive hind foot. She must have sensed they were about to return to the woods.

“I don’t like it either, old girl,” Baard said, scratching the mare between her wise, brown eyes. “But we have to get some firewood.” He supplied the wood for the village’s common oven in exchange for a loaf of bread and an occasional pie for his family. Hilts and blades! I hope we won’t meet any Daemorcs this time! But then, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Daemorcs came here.

Last night, the dogs had bayed and barked as if they had gone mad, and Mayor Corwyn’s cows bawled as though they hadn’t grazed in days. It was almost as if a creature of the Wrathlands had strayed into the village.

Baard harnessed Whitecap, took the ax off the peg on the wall, and let the haft slide through a loop on his belt. As he led the mare outside, Elya was standing in front of their hut, the breeze swaying the skirt of her gray, roughspun dress. Her hand rested on the head of Fierran, which shifted back and forth and glanced around for signs of danger. Baard remembered waking a few times to the wolf’s howling. What had gotten into the animals?

Elya lifted her head at the sound of Whitecap’s hooves and smiled. She stepped forward and stretched out her hands toward the horse. “Hello, old girl,” she said as she pressed her face against Whitecap’s cheek. Fierran uttered a jealous growl, causing Whitecap to roll her eyes and stomp her foot.

Baard frowned. Although Elya always accompanied him to the woods, he had hoped she would stay home today; Deerhide Forest no longer seemed to be safe. She turned to him and tilted her head as if she were trying to read his thoughts, and he cleared his throat and said, “Let’s go before it gets too hot.” She would get upset if he suggested she stayed in the village.

Fierran growled again when Baard helped Elya onto Whitecap’s back. She would return on foot, holding onto the fur on the back of Fierran’s neck, but she always rode to the forest, for Whitecap had no logs to haul.

Their hut stood near the fields at the far end of Icecreek, and they had to cross the village to reach the market square and Western Path that led to the woods. They could have cut through the fields, but they belonged to Mayor Corwyn, who didn’t like trespassers. Besides, Baard preferred to go through the village and past the mayor’s house to see Corwyn’s daughter Diara.

They walked down the dirt throughway, passing houses bigger than theirs but with the same wooden walls, thatched roofs, brick chimneys, and fenced vegetable gardens. Birds screeched in the trees to the faint whispering of the breeze that brought the smell of wildflowers from a nearby meadow. A rooster strutted atop a pile of reeking dung, self-important as the king on Royal Hill, nervously watching his brood of foraging hens, which seemed more quarrelsome than usual. Nervous dogs ran back and forth, but they cautiously kept away from Fierran. No children played on the street today.

The morning sun was gaining strength. Baard sweated in his roughspun tunic and leggings, but as usual, old men wore leather jerkins, and their wives were wrapped in woolen cloaks as they sat on rough-hewn benches in front of their houses. The elders spoke in loud, agitated voices.

“I bet it’s the damned wolves, circling the village,” Widow Margor told Johar Builder, just as the twins passed by.

Fierran growled softly as if he could understand, and Margor winced.

“May it be the wolves, or even bears,” Johar said. “Better than the horned ones.”

Elya cleared her throat and looked away. The twins hadn’t told anyone about their adventure because they would be forbidden from going to the woods. And if they were forbidden from going to the woods, they and their parents would starve.

A large, two-story stone house dominated the dirt square. The creaking sign above the door said, Corwyn Crown: the best hostelry in Icecreek and the surrounding area. Corwyn Crown was the village’s only inn, and the surrounding area was nothing but woods, fields, and cliffs. Mayor Corwyn—who was also an innkeeper—could not be accused of being modest.

Baard looked up and saw Diara’s window shuttered. She seldom slept in, and he was disappointed he wouldn’t see her until he returned from the woods. But his mood improved when he spotted Hareth Corwyn, the mayor’s son and his best friend, sitting on the stone step by the inn’s entrance.

Hareth wore a velvet tunic and leather leggings, which seemed to mock the twins’ roughspun clothes. He was about twenty-one summers, three years older than Baard, who had been accepted among the men at the beginning of the year. He came from the wealthiest family in Icecreek, while Baard came from the poorest. They were inseparable, though, perhaps because so few boys their age lived in the village. The fact that Hareth was the older brother of the beautiful Diara strengthened the friendship.

Hareth looked bored, whistling and patting his knees with his hands, and he smiled when he noticed them. He had a snub nose, large dark eyes, and shoulder-length black hair whose fringe always fell over his eyes. While Baard’s beard was still patchy, fluffy, and light as the head of a dandelion, Hareth had a full, lush beard. Which he occasionally shaved off as if it already bored him.

“Going for firewood, are we?” Hareth said in a cheerful voice, tossing his head to get the hair out of his eyes. While there were hardly any girls in Icecreek to appreciate that casual head-toss, Hareth claimed that the girls in Blizzardshore found it irresistible. Baard had thought of getting the same fringe, but Father always said that the head-tossing made Hareth look like a mule.

“Just for a few logs for the common oven,” Baard replied. “Say, do you want to come along? If you help us, we’ll be done in no time, and then we can play dice.” And you could help us fend off Daemorcs.

“I can’t, brother-in-law!” Hareth said, his grin never waning. He often called him brother or brother-in-law because Baard liked Diara. “That putrid howling and barking wouldn’t let me sleep last night, and I’m exhausted.” He yawned and rubbed his eyes. “Hilts and blades! The beasts didn’t let me sleep at all! Besides, my father wants me to do repairs around the inn.”

Baard heard Elya scoff, but he ignored it. “Well, I’ll see you when we come back, Hareth.”

“I’m sure you will, brother. I will go to the woods later, and I’ll kill whatever has been scaring the animals. And I might take you with me and let you carry my spear.”

Baard gasped. “You have a spear?”

“Sure, brother!” Hareth said with a grin, and Baard thought he would burst with admiration.

Elya snickered from the horseback, loudly enough for Hareth to hear.

“Well, off you go,” Hareth said, glaring at Elya. “Goodbye, brother. Goodbye, Elya!”

She gave him a curt nod and a slight wave, then she clucked on Whitecap. As they walked on, Baard wondered why Elya would dislike Hareth.

“What an idle-butt he is,” Elya said, not caring whether Hareth might still hear them. “I wonder why you even bother asking him for help. He would rather dislocate his mouth by giving you excuses than lift a finger.”

“Why do you say that?” Baard asked. “He said he had to make repairs on the inn, didn’t he?”

“That’s what he always says, and yet I never hear any hammering or smell any paint.”

Baard had to admit she was right.

Stolen novel; please report.

“Besides, it’s funny that they still call it an inn,” she said. “It’s got to be weeks since they last had a guest.”

That was true, too. Merchants often sailed from Esgardia up to Blizzardshore, a larger town about a day’s ride south, but very few of them thought it worth going all the way here. Icecreek was just a small village of fewer than two hundred people, so only a stubborn peddler or a nomadic tinker occasionally strayed here. And those who came often slept in their wagons or tents, much to the mayor’s chagrin.

Only the mayor and his extended family had the money for the peddlers and tinkers in any case, for they had wineries, orchards, beehives, and fields, and they sold their produce to outlanders. Most other Icecreekers sustained themselves on farming, hunting, and crafts.

“I’ve never heard Hareth say he had a spear before, by the way,” Elya went on. Then she must have sensed that Baard was getting annoyed so she smiled and said, “I’m sorry, Baard. I’m as nervous as the animals today. I think I’m still shaken by the events of yesterday. And I’m sorry about what I said about Hareth. I want you to be happy, Baard. And I’m not sure how happy you would be marrying into that family. Diara is wonderful. But her brother, well, he’s not that great. And her father disapproves of you for being poor.”

Baard raised his eyebrows. “Marry Diara? Come on, Elya, it has never even occurred to me.” But he had to admit he didn’t hate the idea. Unfortunately, Mayor Corwyn was ruthless and never even pretended to like him.

“In any case, I will be happy,” Baard replied.

But was it true?

He had to admit he wasn’t very cheerful while thinking about his future. He suffocated at home, and the village seemed to have grown too small for him. He had never been more than a few miles away from Icecreek, and he dreamed of riding to Blizzardshore and then sailing down to the capital, Esgardia, and perhaps even to Southern Cities. At times he even envisioned himself onboard a large vessel, among other fearless sailors who dared cross the vast Southern Sea to the mystery-shadowed Aganopean Empire.

If he returned from such a mission, he would surely be considered a hero. And Mayor Corwyn would accept him.

Mother was gravely ill, though, the river of her life flowing much faster than it should, and she never left her bed. And Father did nothing but sit beside her, clasping a bottle of liquor. Baard couldn’t leave until Mother got better or until she . . . He took a deep breath and shook his head.

And then, there was Elya. He could take her along on the journey, but she wanted to stay in Icecreek and replace Ruah as the soothsayer one day. She had been Ruah’s apprentice for years, ever since she realized she had inherited the Might from their late grandmother. No level of magic would make Elya see, though, and even if she became a powerful soothsayer, she would still depend on others.

Baard sighed, to himself so Elya wouldn’t hear him. His destiny seemed to be a life in this village, taking care of his mother and sister.

The earth rumbled and trembled under his feet. Fierran growled and Whitecap neighed and reared. Elya gasped and clenched the reins. A flock of wild pigeons flew up from a nearby treetop.

“Are you all right, Elya?” Baard asked.

She nodded. “But the Wrathlords are angry.”

Baard shuddered, recalling Al’Anark’s words about something strange happening in the realm. He forced himself to chuckle. “You sound like a real soothsayer,” he said, teasingly. Then, when they reached the small cabin on the outskirts of an oak grove, and when he saw a woman in a knee-length linen tunic walking through the garden, he added, “Speaking of soothsayers, Ruah is out there, checking on her herbs.”

Elya nodded, smiling patiently as if she had already known it; she always seemed to sense Ruah’s presence. In a way, Elya saw much more than everyone else.

Ruah turned to them with an amiable smile. She had a youthful, almost ageless face, incongruous with her graying brown hair. Baard had always remembered her like that, and the elders said she had hardly changed in the nearly twenty years since she came from Blizzardshore to replace the twins’ grandmother as a soothsayer.

Ruah walked to them with a spring in her step. “Good morning, youngsters,” she said, her eyes gliding from Elya to Baard.

Her eyes were large, dark, and deep set, and Baard always felt they peered straight into his mind. Those eyes made her look otherworldly. And yet he found her attractive.

“Good morning, Ruah,” Elya said, her face brightening in a large, toothy grin.

Baard knew he had the same grin, which they had inherited from their father—although he could hardly remember the last time Father had smiled. Mother used to joke that their mouths were as wide as the entrance to a beehive.

“Good morning, Mistress Ruah,” Baard said. “I hope you are well.”

“So I am, Master Baard, thank you.” Most villagers still called him lad or boy but Ruah called him Master Baard or even Master Thon. He often wondered why she was so formal around him.

Baard scowled when Elya dismounted to chat with Ruah, for he didn’t like delays when there were things to do. He wouldn’t say anything, though, and he tried to clear his mind of any negative thoughts. People said that Ruah could read minds. And he often believed that so could Elya, who was very secretive about her budding powers.

Fierran whined and nuzzled Ruah, who kneeled beside him and scratched his head, murmuring under her breath in an endearing voice. Apart from Elya, Ruah was the only person who could touch Fierran without the fear of losing her hand. Fierran was as fond of her as he was of Elya, and he seemed happiest when both women were around him. Now he whined like a lapdog, trembling, and wagging his tail.

Ruah had brought him when he was just a pup to become Elya’s guide and guardian. Nobody knew where Ruah had got him, and many people said there was something uncanny about the wolf. But then they said the same about Ruah, and even about Elya.

“I found bullblood in the thicket,” Ruah told Elya. “This afternoon, we will make—” She twitched when an enormous flock of birds flew only a few feet above them, screeching and heading north as if they wanted to leave the island.

“I don’t like this,” Ruah said, watching the birds. “Something is happening, or about to happen. I think there is trouble down in Esgardia. I sense that the king has somehow offended one of the three Wrathlords, and that the Wrathlord is seeking revenge on all of us.” She gave them a sharp look. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to go to the forest today.”

“But if we don’t get firewood for the common oven, we won’t eat today,” Baard said. Why would the dispute between the king and a Wrathlord should make him go hungry? Anyway, the Wrathlords and their armies of Corpsentinels lived far away, on the other end of the island, and they had left humans alone for centuries. He found it hard to believe that one of them would come all the way to this remote cape to cause trouble. But then, he had thought the same about Daemorcs.

Ruah shrugged her slim shoulders. “If you really must go.” She looked around, sighed, and said, “There might never be a good time to leave the village anymore. We must get used to it. Besides, I should not worry about you two. At least not yet.”

What is that supposed to mean? Baard wondered.

Ruah always talked in riddles, and while Elya normally nodded as if she understood, even she seemed baffled. Before she or Baard could ask what the soothsayer meant, the beating of hooves came from the village. Baard turned around and smiled when he recognized the rider. “It’s Diara.”

She rode bareback on her palfrey, her dark hair waving around her head in wild masses, and Baard guessed that the Goddess Aganope had looked just like that before falling into eternal sleep. Diara’s hair always looked untamed, which made her maddeningly desirable. Her figure was divine in a short satin tunic.

She reined in and dismounted. “Good morning, everyone,” she exclaimed, her fleshy lips stretching in a dazzling smile, her dark, catlike eyes twinkling.

He took a breath to greet her, but she only gave him a quick, shy smile and turned to Ruah. “I need some medicine, please,” she said, her voice ringing like a bell. With an embarrassed giggle, she cupped her hands around her mouth and leaned toward the soothsayer. Baard heard her whisper about a monthly scourge.

“I’ve got something that can help you, Diara,” Ruah said. “Please come inside.”

Ruah led the way, and Diara followed. Despite her scourge, she hopped rather than walked, as usual, and she seemed to tremble with energy.

Ruah held the door open for Diara, who turned and called, “Goodbye, Baard and Elya,” before she entered.

Before she also disappeared inside, the soothsayer said, “I will see you this afternoon, Elya. If you truly must go to the woods, the two of you, please be especially careful!”

As the door closed behind, Baard turned to his sister. “Why don’t you stay here with Ruah, and I go fetch the firewood alone?”

Elya pursed her lips, looking alert. “Why do you want me to stay?”

“Well, you remember what happened yesterday and—”

“And I’m a useless blind cripple, right?” she asked. Her voice floated between anger and tears, reminding him of the old Elya.

She had been born blind, and when she was about five and realized she couldn’t run as fast as other children, and that she couldn’t play hide-and-seek, she often blew up in anger. She had been insecure, and when she heard a burst of laughter, she thought they laughed at her shuffling gait or the way her eyes were always closed. At times she yelled; other times she cried and stumbled home . . . or the way she thought home was.

Then she got Fierran, and she seemed to become a new girl. She learned how to walk with him and became more independent. At times, it even looked as if she could see through his eyes. She came to terms with her blindness and became the gentle, quiet person she was now. But the Elya of the old days seemed to have returned.

Baard hadn’t seen her this upset for years. But then, it’s been years since he had told her not to do something he was going to do.

“I am useful,” she said before he could soothe her. “And I’m far from helpless, especially with Fierran.”

“I know you are, sister,” Baard said. “You make everything much faster and easier, and Fierran can protect us from the creatures. I just . . .” He sighed. “I’m sorry, Elya, I was stupid.”

She calmed almost immediately. “Let’s go then,” she said as she groped for Whitecap’s bridle. “We should be as quick as possible before the creatures notice us.”