The Secret Library: Seas of Baast by Gilbert J. C

Author:Gilbert, J. C.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tardigrade House
Published: 2020-02-10T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I clutched my book close to my chest as we were surrounded by people. Darcy was tense with one hand on his sword hilt, ready to draw. Lilly looked like she might unleash all the power of the Rose of the Raven if anyone so much as looked at her funny.

Firelight danced on these new faces. They looked grim, tired, and angry.

"People are not nakki," said one of the newcomers. She seemed to be the one that was giving the orders before.

"But they were in the fog," said one of the men. "This is a trick."

"We are wasting time," said the woman. She was not at all tall, but had the presence of a giant. "We must reach the shoreline before the nakki do."

"What about these three?" asked one of the men.

"I suspect they are lost," said the woman.

"We lost our way in the fog," confirmed Darcy.

"You speak the common tongue?" asked the woman. "Forgive me, I took you for far-rangers."

"We can't just leave them," said the man from before. "What if they are spies."

"Fine," said the woman. "I will continue the hunt. Those who would rather escort these strangers to the inn may do so." With that, she raced off into the night, charging into the darkness as if nothing could phase her. The rest of the party of hunters continued after her, leaving us once more alone in the darkness.

The bells continued to chime up ahead.

"So, I guess we go to the inn?" asked Lilly.

"It seems so," said Darcy.

It was slow going through the swamp. We tried to follow the tracks of the hunters best we could, as they tended to have kept to the dry patches. This strategy, whilst pretty good, was not perfect, and it wasn't long before we had all had at least one foot unceremoniously dunked into the water.

It was, therefore, with squelchy boots that we reached the settlement. We were immediately greeted by a distraught woman.

"My baby? Do you have my baby?" she pleaded.

"Sorry, ma'am," said Darcy.

"Who are you?" asked a sturdy looking hooded man, stepping forward out of the gloom.

"We are travelers," said Darcy. "We wish to stay at the inn."

"Fine trailcraft, this is," said the man. "Coming in after midnight and expecting lodgings."

"We were lost," I said.

"We only found out way out because of a group of people we met," said Darcy.

"They came by you?" asked the hooded man.

"Did they have my baby? Did they find my son?" asked the woman. Her face was raw with crying, and she seemed on the edge of madness.

"I don't think so," I said, doing my best to will sympathy into the poor woman. If looks were anything to go by, my sympathy was ineffectual that night.

"Would you direct us to the inn?" asked Darcy. "I see that your village has experienced some tragedy."

The hooded man looked over to the older woman appraisingly. "Yes, that is one way to put it. Tell me, stranger. At which point does a tragedy cease to become a tragedy? I am afraid I am growing too accustomed to the screams of women.

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