Watcher at the Crossing: The Crossing, Book 1 by Ash Fitzsimmons

Author:Ash Fitzsimmons [Fitzsimmons, Ash]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ash Fitzsimmons
Published: 2023-02-07T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 10

* * *

Ihad a treehouse growing up, a little fort of two-by-fours with a castoff piece of corrugated tin for the roof. Dad built it five feet off the ground in the backyard pecan tree, and it had everything a kid could need: a rope ladder for access through a trapdoor, a window for a view, and walls that kept out the worst of the elements. True, the place was uninsulated and leaked like a sieve, but I’d loved it until the tree came down in an ice storm—and by then, I’d grown to prefer the comforts of climate control and my bed.

The Twins’ citadel—our escort had declined to give me its name, though Anji whispered that it was probably called Caritulo after its previous incarnation—was like an ocean liner next to the tub toy my treehouse had been. It wasn’t supported by a mere tree, but rather by seeming acres of forest, a roof of boards and supporting branches some thirty feet off the ground that stretched as far as I could see. The underside of the citadel was lit with Aen-powered lamps and more conventional torches—whatever skill the elves possessed, I supposed it included fireproofing—and separated from the woods around it by a living fence of chain-linked limbs and vines. Through the arched gate, I could make out lights in an apparent stable and pick the contours of a street from the shadows.

The commander stopped our pack a little ways from the gate, then dismounted and approached the armed guard on foot. “Locking down early today?” he asked, casting a pointed glance at the fading sky—which, I finally noticed, was a curious shade of bluish turquoise. “We’ve time yet until nightfall.”

“Orders,” the guard replied. “You’ve not heard?”

“Heard what?”

The guard beckoned him close and whispered in his ear, and the commander stiffened. He whispered back to the guard, and then both turned and stared at me. Trying not to squirm under their gaze, I offered a weak wave, which wasn’t reciprocated.

After another few moments of inaudible conversation, the guard allowed us to pass through the city gate into its underbelly. The lights I’d seen were indeed from a stable, and I gratefully made my ungainly dismount from my patient mare. Wincing as I tried not to walk with a bowlegged stride, I shouldered my backpack and followed the commander through the warren of streets.

If the rushing elves noticed us, they seemed too busy to care. Men passed wearing swords, carrying bows and packed quivers, and rolling heavy barrels. Noticing a leak from one of the latter, Anji murmured, “Pitch.”

“Seems like a bad idea to keep so much around in a forest,” I replied, watching another barrel follow its leaky fellow.

“Not if you want to create a fire ring. The Greenwood isn’t as sacred to them as the forest back in Ildon. Looks like they wouldn’t mind sacrificing a few trees.”

I thought about the unprotected tunnel and the rainy night we’d spent huddled together. Sure, we hadn’t seen any

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