Hunter and Fox by Philippa Ballantine

Author:Philippa Ballantine
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Prometheus Books
Published: 2013-05-13T16:00:00+00:00

Whatever place the river had been conjured from, it was not a peaceful one. Still, through some happy chance, Byreniko and his father were not smashed to death on the rocks or held under the water by angry currents. Instead, they were washed up on a gentle bank many miles from the torture chambers.

Retira pushed back his graying hair, spat out a mouthful of water, and began laughing. It was infectious, and Byre found himself joining in even as they floundered their way to the bank. Once ashore, they found themselves in the soft-dense foliage of a fern forest. Byre had the strange feeling it was welcoming them; offering them a hiding place from those who must surely follow.

For all that, they could not get far without food and rest, especially since the hospitality of the Caisah had left Byre barely capable of movement.

Retira chose a spot in a small clearing, and they made what little meager camp they could. His father was as well provisioned as one could be for two people and had soon made fire in the half-light of a depression amongst the ferns.

Having waited so long to talk on things, it was strange how silence descended on them so completely. Byre found himself watching his father across the flames and trying to decide which of the clamoring questions he should let out first.

In the end, it was Retira who spoke. “I had word that your foster parents were killed, but that you had escaped from the farm. I'm so sorry.”

For such an old wound, it still hurt. “They were good people and they loved me as best they could. Talyn did well to find them for me.”

“Do not speak of her.” There was real anger in his voice. “Or give her no name rather than call her that.”

Immortality, once a blessing, could make Vaerli as hard as diamond, and though Byre would have liked to push the point, things were still too fragile for that.

His father stroked his moustache and cleared his throat. “You know, I have a unique perspective since going to the Hill; all my memories have been freed and it feels like a weight has been lifted off me.”

Byre didn't know what to say. He had many memories of his own—and many he would have liked to get rid of. When the Harrowing had happened he'd only been a child and his training in the memory Gift minimal, so daily the fear gnawed on him that one day they would break loose, and he would run mad. He tried to imagine what his father had held on to. “It is hard…sometimes,” he ventured, “to know what is precious and should be kept.”

His father nodded. “I retained all of mine. They say that way lies madness, and they are right; to have so much experience is a hard thing. I second-guessed myself a thousand times before coming to find you.”

Byre swallowed his misgivings and instead voiced his other question. “How did you know where I was?”

“I have a friend, a friend who dreams.

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