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“I think you have far more important things to do, Young Tom.”
“What do you mean?”
The vagueness vanished from her gaze and she looked at him as if startled. “Oh! Well, just that most people have far more important things to do in their life than they realize. So many of the things we do seem small, yet they’re very important in the larger scheme.”
“Oh.” He wasn’t sure what she meant but was reluctant to question her further. The word small made him uncertain that he wanted to know her meaning.
“Aye,” said a deep voice from nearby. Archer approached them, and with a swirl that wrapped his cloak around him, he settled on the ground with them. “The small things, Lady. They matter beyond estimation.”
The men closest to the fire, quite happy now that they were full of food and hard cider, were arguing about who had caught the biggest fish last summer. Archer ignored them. Ratha and Giri seemed to be nowhere about.
“Simply being true to one’s word, Young Tom,” Archer said. “That is of great importance. The raising of a child…” His voice hushed a bit; then he shook his head, as if trying to dislodge an annoying insect. “The love and care of one’s wife. These things matter, Young Tom, for they are the essence of goodness.”
Tom nodded, but even he could feel the disappointment that must be showing on his face.
Suddenly Archer laughed and clapped a hand to Tom’s shoulder. “If you’re lucky, lad, you’ll never have to use a sword.”
Tom nodded. While he wanted adventure, he was in no hurry to kill anyone.
“Unfortunately,” Archer continued, “luck may not hold and that day may come. Something stirs. Something dark and evil.”
Tom’s eagerness grew. “What do you mean, Master Archer?”
“Would that I could say for certain. All I know is…there is a strangeness to the air. Something awakens that were better left slumbering.”
He looked at them both. “Stay close to the fire.”
Then he rose and disappeared into the darkness, his cape swirling about him.
Some seconds passed while the men at the fire continued to happily argue. Then Tess spoke.
“What do you know of Master Archer?”
Tom shook his head. “No one knows much. He comes from time to time to town. He’s never made any trouble, and sometimes he tells the old tales to us. But what he does otherwise, none knows.”
Tess nodded and peered into the darkness. Tom knew she couldn’t see Archer any longer. No one could.
Fog crept into the woods from the bank of the river. Low, hugging the ground, dense enough to make men disappear beneath its blanket. The night’s chill grew deeper, and the moon disappeared behind a cloud. The only light came from the fire, well stocked and burning brightly.
Well beyond its glow, Archer paused to speak with Giri. “Do you feel it?”
“Aye.”
“Keep sharp.”
Giri nodded, his back toward the fire, his nostrils flared as if he were on the scent of something foul. Archer slipped away into the darkness, his movements barely stirring the fog, and came upon Ratha, who was guarding the other side of the camp.
“It’s staying away,” Ratha told him quietly. “Whatever it is, it’s too cautious to approach.”
“Can you hear it?”
Ratha shook his head. “I can smell it.”
“It wants something we have.”
“Nothing ordinary, I warrant.” Ratha shook his head and drew another deep breath.
“It knows we wait and watch.”
“That would trouble me less if there were more of us.”
Archer touched his shoulder. “We three are enough. It fears us.”
“So far. I wish I knew what it is.”
“Mayhap we’ll never need to know. I’ll keep on the move.”
Ratha nodded, keeping his attention on the night and the fog that hovered just above the ground. The night itself might betray nothing, but movement in the fog could tell much of a story.
Archer was gone again. A caw, like that of the crow, carried on the night air. Giri, saying all was still well at his post. Ratha answered in kind.
So far, it was well enough.
Tess’s sleep was disturbed. A nightmare kept returning to her, a dream of dark oily fingers slipping into her mind. Finally, able to bear it no longer, she shook herself awake and sat bolt upright. The fire still burned, lower now, and she was surrounded by sleeping bodies.
Shivering as the night air hit her back, she drew the carriage blanket around herself and tried to shake off the ill-effects of the nightmare.
Though she had no memory older than three days, she was still able to judge the scene around her as safe and normal. The fire burned, the people slept, people that she was coming to know. Even Young Tom was lost in the sleep of innocence.
But the dream would not quite go away, and uneasiness danced along her spine. Shuddering, she scooted closer to the fire, then wondered why she thought the light would make her any safer.
Or any warmer, for the chill she was feeling now came from within her. From some place so deep inside her she didn’t know how to name it. Didn’t know what it was.
“Is something wrong?”
The whisper startled her, and she jumped with a small cry, twisting to discover that Archer had come to squat beside her.
“My apologies,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?”
“I had a nightmare. I can’t seem to shake it off.”
He nodded, his gaze darting around as if he were trying to watch the entire world at once. “Ratha, Giri and I are standing guard. You need not fear.”
She shuddered again.
Hesitantly he reached out and touched her hand, where it clutched the blanket around her. “Tell me,” he suggested quietly.
“It was as if something evil were trying to get inside me. Something evil and cold. And the feeling is still here.”
He nodded but said nothing. On the other hand, he didn’t tell her that she was being foolish.
Finally he looked at her again. “You’re feeling it, too. There’s something out there, but it dares not approach. You can rest safely.”
“I don’t think I’ll sleep again tonight.”
“Perhaps not. How quietly can you walk?”
She didn’t know how to answer that. “I’m not sure.”
He cocked his head. “Then it’s best you stay here. Trust me, we’re watching over the campsite.”
“How can I help?” It was a stupid question, she thought, even as she asked it. She had no idea whether she knew how to use a weapon of any kind. No idea whether she had ever fought anyone or anything.
“Keep your back to the fire and watch,” he said. “We need eyes.”
She nodded, then watched him rise and melt away once again.
It was only then that she noticed the fog that surrounded the campsite, as if held at bay only by the fire. It clung low to the ground and was so thick that nothing could be seen through it. But while it surrounded the campers, it approached none of them.
Another shiver passed through her, and