Whisperwood by Alex Woodroe

Author:Alex Woodroe [Woodroe, Alex]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: flame tree press; epic fantasy; folklore; supernatural
Published: 2023-05-16T13:11:40+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Shared Burdens

I had to find the smith.

Never mind the townsfolk and their scare tactics. Never mind the mayor and his lies. Never mind Miss Crosman too. I half suspected she’d exaggerated the town’s ire just to get me out of the way and to safety. Whatever the risk, running wasn’t going to help anyone. Finding the people who had believed in Paul’s dedication to change and knowledge might.

Rareș was the only sensible choice. I’d never make it back across town to Ancuţa. Even the brewery was a risk, but the smithy was right on the edge of town. I saw the plume from the brothel roof. I could find it.

Never mind what I’d do when I found it.

A thicket stood between me and my destination. It was all brambles and thorns, trunks and branches smothered by some strange ivy I’d never seen before. Vines were matted so thickly over the canopy as to block out the light. Barely any trees still stood under the weight of it, and almost none were alive. I passed over it, under it, and even pulled my knife out to cut sections away. So engrossed was I in making a path for myself, I jumped when a voice came from behind me.

“What in the devil’s uncle’s teat are you doing?”

It could have been anyone, but it was Rareș. I hardly deserved the good luck.

“Trimming your hedges. It was either this or dealing with your townsmen, and the hedges seemed less unruly.”

I expected a laugh, but he only stared at me darkly. “Picked an odd time to visit.” He shoved some branches aside and made a far better opening than the one I’d been working on. “C’mon.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Gripe at me when we’re sat with a cup of tea.”

“I don’t know how safe it is to go back.” It was a half truth, but who knew how much he knew already? He could very well blame me for everything too.

“There’s nobody at the forge. It’ll only be us.”

“Where’s your wife?”

He didn’t answer. We moved through the last of the brush silently, then had to cross through a clear-cut swathe out in the open. I shivered like a dog in midwinter, from tiredness and fear and cold all together. He put his arm around me, but it didn’t do much. I wanted to slow down, but the frantic disquiet inside me wouldn’t hear of it.

Within minutes, we were inside and warming our hands by his smoldering forge. The stone building wrapped around a square yard where the massive furnace smoked. Tools and weapons covered every surface, and I had to put hoes away to set my teacup down. The fine fired clay with blue swirled patterns was surely his wife’s choice.

Once I was settled, I attempted an innocuous conversation starter. “So, I tried to leave town.”

He huffed. “I don’t blame you. It’s as cursed as anything in the world.”

“It’s not the most cursed thing I’ve ever seen.” I was surprised by how distant my memories of home seemed in that moment, but doubted they’d ever leave me completely.

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