Part Two

Just as Edwin thought he could stand it no longer, Ferric suddenly stopped. Kneeling down carefully, he beckoned to the boy to follow his lead. Uncertainly, Edwin did as he was bid, unsure as to why. Before he could even wonder, he heard the echo of distant voices that shattered the silence. In contrast to the calm, the sudden change in atmosphere seemed discordant and strangely callous, invading the quiet of the forest without regard. The sounds of laughter and barely audible speech quickly began to sound fiendish and brutish, warped and twisted by the forest air and making it seem as though those speaking were not entirely human. Then silhouettes began to take shape from within the dimness, otherworldly in appearance until they neared and began to develop features. Many were men, few women, some bearing worn travelling cloaks or a piece of simple jewellery, usually an unadorned silver or iron band, ring or brooch and fewer still carried torches. What they all had in common was they were heavily armed. For each that did not wear ring mail, two more were garbed in boiled leather. Swords and shields were commonplace, both short and long, and bows scarce, but each man and woman carried with them a weapon of choice that did not look just for show. They walked nonchalantly through the forest, talking loudly to one another in unconcerned voices as though they did not care, or perhaps know, on what dangerous ground they were treading.

Ferric and Edwin hid in the dark for the longest time. For whatever reason, Ferric believed these people were best avoided and Edwin would have to trust his judgement. He briefly made an effort to count how many there were, but soon lost count. He had gathered there were at least twice as many as there were people in Milddemoor. A fleeting thought crossed his mind as to where they were headed. Had they come from the Luorismere? Or from the north, heading towards it? Maybe they had come from his village? Yet try as he might, he saw no recognisable faces in the throng.

Finally, the masses of people seemed to abate and Ferric and Edwin were alone in the night yet again, the glimmer of torches disappearing between the trees as if they had never existed. After several minutes, the hunter rose slowly, peering into the shadows like he suspected they were being watched. Edwin followed suit, stretching his cramped legs and arms. All was quiet once more.

Before he could so much as breathe a sigh of relief, an arrow had pierced the night. It passed within a fingers breadth of Edwin’s face, so close that he felt the air hiss as it sped by. Jerking back in surprise and shock, he stumbled to the floor, staring fearfully at the arrow now quivering in a nearby tree that had almost taken his life.

“Not quiet enough, I’m afraid,” said a smooth voice. Turning, Edwin saw a towering, muscular figure holding a strung bow, flanked by several others, their faces were hidden by the night. The only thing perceptible was the shooter’s eyes, which were pale grey and unnaturally bright in the darkness. They were emotionless and cold, staring at Edwin and Ferric down the sight of his bow, where another arrow was already knocked. “Move and you die.”

“Run, Edwin!” Ferric had roared, his voice, hoarse and gravelly from lack of use, sounding shrill in comparison to the other man. Not pausing to consider that these were probably the last words he would hear from the hunter, Edwin ran, ignoring the sound of a whizz and grunt behind him, dashing blindly into the night again.

He had run without pause, fuelled no longer by guilt but fear. He held no convictions that Ferric would survive. There had been far too many men for him to fight off alone, and Ferric was no warrior as they had clearly been. Edwin could not say how he knew, but the men had been trained killers. Perhaps it was the way they had stood, poised and ready to attack, but he had understood the threat they posed almost instinctively, though perhaps it had been obvious in the way they had traversed across the forest floor. Ferric had recognised this too he realised, but had bravely held his ground in order to give Edwin time to escape.

A loud chirp drew him back to reality. Looking up, he saw perched on the cabin window a diminutive brown bird, with white plumage. He dimly recalled the town priest describing such birds. They were called luscinias; nightingales, he had said. This particular bird was unremarkable, yet it twittered conversationally, peering down at the boy, possibly curious as to why he was there. To Edwin, he heard only mockery in its sweet song.

“Had you never committed such a heinous act,” it seemed to say. “Had you never run so foolishly into the forest with no idea where you were going, Ferric would never have died. His blood is on your hands, and yours alone.”

Angrily he tossed a nearby piece of litter in its direction, making it tweet in indignation and flutter away. Burying his head once more in his knees, he was back in the forest, shouts following him closely as he continued on. His lungs had burned and more than once he collapsed only to force himself to get back up and press on. The jeering behind him still contorted by the foul forest air making it seem as though ravening wolves chased him, rather than murderous men. Mist had begun to rise making it more and more difficult to see, and evil faces to flicker and shimmer within the darkness, goading and mocking Edwin as he ran. And as he had begun to reach the end of his tether, he had seen it. The cabin from the stories, camouflaged by the trees. An apparent safe haven from the danger that loomed ever closer. He had clambered through one the windows, ignoring the shards of glass that dug hungrily into his flesh and collapsed upon the floorboards, his fear threatening to smother him, great as it was. He had lain there, inwardly praying that his pursuers did not see the house and that they would leave him be. It seemed his prayers were answered, for as the night went on the sounds of his pursuers grew ever more distant, until at last he was alone in the quiet, as it seemed he always had been.

But as with all stillness, it eventually came to a penultimate end.