Eagle's Path

2. Lost

2. LostBranwyn dropped to her knees, utterly spent. She heaved in a breath, fingers digging into the soft ground, trying to stop them shaking. Tendrils of her dark, curling hair hung down in front of her face. She closed her eyes, listening to the rustling of feet, the panting for breath, and the quiet voices. With each moment, the stillness around her grew more tangible. No clanging of swords, no cries of pain and terror, no pounding feet, no whistling arrows.

Safe.

She was safe.

A gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned, looking up into Tristan’s brown eyes.

“Are you okay?”

She reached out a hand, and Tristan pulled her to her feet, drawing her in close. Branwyn wrapped her arms around him and rested her cheek on the hard plating of his armour.

“We made it,” Branwyn whispered.

“Well,” said Tristan. “We’ve escaped into the depths of the forest. I’m hoping this isn’t the end of our journey.”

Branwyn lifted her head and rolled her eyes at him. The corner of his mouth curled into a grin.

“Where do you think the Fae are taking us?” said Branwyn, looking about while keeping one arm around Tristan. Amidst the towering trunks of trees, the people of Torelia sat or stood, some holding tightly onto one another, others dressing wounds, most breathing heavily, eyes drooping in relief.

Scattered amongst them were the Fae, their woodland garb blending into the trees and heather. They did not look much different from the woodsmen Branwyn had seen back in Teraan City, except that their eyes were pale and bright. They moved silently among the trees, more a part of the forest than beings moving through it.

Tristan shrugged. “You’ve spoken to them more than I have.”

“They said they would take us to sanctuary,” said Branwyn, recalling her conversation with Hotah Ahote, their Chief. She had not seen the Fae man with the silver fur ruff since she fled the battle.

“It’s been years since anyone has visited the Fae,” said Tristan. “Sanctuary could mean anywhere.”

“Do you trust them?” said Branwyn.

Tristan tilted his head to one side, surveying them. “If they meant us harm, they’d have left us to the Brathadair. That doesn’t mean I trust them. I don’t think I’ve heard any story of the Fae where there wasn’t some sort of deception or trickery involved.”

Branwyn gulped. She did not want to remember how close she had come to death, nor did she want the illusion of their safety to be broken so soon.

“Come,” she said, tugging Tristan around. “Let’s get Andor and see if we can find some food.”

Branwyn looked around, eyes scanning the crowd for the familiar form of her young cousin. She saw members of the Torelian Guard, Odmund the swordmaster, grizzled and battle-worn, she saw men and women, refugees from Faraig and Darrogie, she saw children, but none had the same tousled head of mousy brown hair.

“Andor,” she called, causing heads to turn towards her. Someone shushed her with an angry look.

“Not so loud,” said Tristan. “We may have escaped, but we still have to be careful. The Brathadair could be following us.”

Branwyn bit back another shout. Andor’s name burned on her lips. Where was he? “Do you see him anywhere?” she asked Tristan.

Tristan shook his head. “He can’t be far. You go that direction and I’ll go this. Meet back here in a few minutes.”

Branwyn turned and wove her way through the crowd. People glanced up at her as she passed, their faces haggard. Some had red-rimmed eyes, like they had been crying.

A little further on Branwyn caught sight of a familiar figure and rushed forwards. Anniina turned in surprise as Branwyn approached, her long grey hair held back by a blue cloth around her head. In her hands she held a small stone bowl and a spoon, some herbal mixture within.

“Is Andor with you?” Branwyn asked before the healer had a chance to speak.

Anniina put down her bowl and wiped her hands on her dress. “I’m afraid not,” she said. “I haven’t seen him since we left the caves.”

Branwyn sucked in a breath. “I can’t find him anywhere.”

“And you know he left the battlefield?” said Anniina, her eyes searching Branwyn’s face.

“Yes,” said Branwyn, her brows creasing. “He was with me when the Fae came. And when we started running. He was right beside me.”

“But you can’t remember where you last saw him?” said the healer.

Branwyn put her hands to the sides of her face. “We ran for such a long time. I lost track. I... I don’t remember when I last saw him.”

Anniina gave a small smile. “Don’t fret, girl. If he was running, he’s not been left behind.”

Branwyn nodded, telling herself the healer’s words were true. “I have to keep looking,” she said. She moved on between the trees, heather scratching her ankles. There were fewer people here, and those who were seemed more alert. They watched her warily, hands fingering their weapons.

A Fae woman stepped out in front of Branwyn. She too wore fur across her shoulders, a short brown cape hanging down her back. She carried a sleek bow across her chest, and a bone-handled knife dangled from her belt.

“Where are you going?” the Fae woman asked.

“I’m looking for my cousin,” said Branwyn. “He’s called Andor. He’s only twelve.”

The Fae’s pale eyes blinked. They were blue, but it was an ethereal blue, a soft light emanating from behind them. “None of your people are beyond this point,” she said.

“But—” Branwyn began.

The Fae interrupted her. “Our eyes are sharp. We have left no one behind.” Branwyn inclined her head. The Fae’s words brooked no argument. She turned around and made her way back to Tristan. Maybe he had found Andor already and they were both waiting for her. Branwyn forced her feet to move faster, ignoring the tight and painful twinges in her muscles.

Tristan was waiting in the clearing where she had left him, the tall, red-bearded figure of Rook next to him. They turned quickly at her approach, eyes searching the forest behind her. Branwyn’s eyes widened. Andor was not with them.

“Did you not find him?” said Branwyn.

“Did you not find him?” Tristan replied.

Branwyn gulped. “I went as far as I could before the Fae sent me back.”

“Rook and I went as far as we could,” said Tristan.

“I’ve asked everyone who might have recognised him,” said Rook. “Some remember him running, but no one has seen him here.”

Branwyn bit her lip. “The Fae said they left no one behind.”

Rook folded his arms. “The Fae are not all powerful. They could have missed someone, especially someone as small as Andor.”

“What do we do?” said Branwyn.

Tristan put his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll find him,” he said firmly.

“Branwyn, why don’t you go and sit with Signy for a while,” said Rook. “Tristan and I will arrange with the Fae to make a wider search for Andor.”

Branwyn’s eyes narrowed and she shook her head. “No, I’m coming with you.” Tristan opened his mouth to protest, but Branwyn held up a hand. “Don’t bother arguing with me.”

“You need to rest, Bran,” said Rook.

“No,” said Branwyn, firmly, pushing away the part of her that told her Rook’s words were true. “I need to find Andor.”

Tristan shook his head. “Come on, then.”

Rook raised his eyebrows, but he made no further comment. The three of them walked to the edge of the gathering and were promptly met by a Fae huntsman. “You should stay with the group,” said the Fae, his pale eyes watching them warily.

“One of our group is missing,” said Rook, stepping forward before Branwyn or Tristan could say anything. “He’s only a boy. We have to go and look for him.”

The Fae tilted his head to the side. “The scouts have seen no one.”

“Nevertheless, we will search for him,” said Rook.

“I cannot vouch for your safety if you leave here,” said the Fae.

Rook gave a grunt that might have been a laugh. “We are members of the Feather Guard. We can vouch for our own safety.”

The Fae inclined his head, not seeming to take offence at Rook’s words. “Then you should not tarry long. We will move on within the hour and we will not wait for you.”

Rook nodded. “As long as you keep on this southerly course we’ll catch up.”

“South. Southwest,” said the Fae vaguely, waving his hand back and forth. “It would be better if you returned in time. It is easy to lose your way in the deep woods, even for a Torelian Feather Guard such as yourself.”

“Then we’d best get moving,” said Tristan, moving past Rook into the forest. Branwyn followed him closely. The thought of becoming separated from Tristan scared her more than becoming separated from the rest of the Fae and Torelians.

Rook paused, and Tristan gave him a puzzled look.

“I’ll catch you up,” said Rook. “I should tell Signy where we’re going.”

Branwyn and Tristan set off into the woods without him. Tristan unbuckled a small sheath from his belt. The scabbard held a dagger. “Take this,” he said, pressing it into Branwyn’s hands.

Branwyn closed her fingers around it and silently buckled it onto her own belt.

“Spread out,” said Tristan, pushing her gently away from him. “But stay within sight.”

“Do you think I’m going to run off on you?” said Branwyn as she moved away between the trees. She kept her eyes trained on the forest floor, scanning every bush and hollow for signs of movement.

“We’re in the deep forest now, Bran,” said Tristan. “The Fae aren’t the only Sidhe out here.”

Branwyn gulped, her eyes flicking towards him. She had been trying not to think about that, but the threat of Cu-Sidhe or Wulvers was all too real out here in the wilds. The heather rustled behind them. Branwyn wondered if the forest could hear their words and was playing tricks on them. She twirled quickly, but it was only Rook catching them up.

They walked onwards, keeping swathes of forest between them, but never enough that they lost sight of each other. Branwyn took the central line, with Tristan away to her right and Rook on her left. They spoke little, the quiet swish of the heather the only noise amidst the trees. Occasionally they heard a twig snap in the distance or the rummaging of some unseen creature. Each time Branwyn’s breath caught, hoping against hope it was Andor, while her mind conjured images of Brathadair soldiers lying in wait. Each time it was nothing. Sometimes they called Andor’s name, but they fell silent again quickly. Anything could be listening.

They walked for half an hour until Tristan angled his steps back towards Branwyn. Rook did the same and soon they were gathered together under the branches of a tall red-barked pine tree. Branwyn’s brow creased as they approached, her eyes pleading.

“We can’t stop now,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.

“If we don’t turn around now, we’ll be left behind,” said Tristan.

“But, Rook—” Branwyn began.

Rook held up a hand to stop her. “I know I said we could catch up, but I agree with the Fae. It would be better if we were back before they left. This is a big forest.”

“And what about Andor? How is he supposed to find us?” said Branwyn.

Rook did not reply. The big man looked at the ground and rubbed the back of his neck.

Tristan took Branwyn’s hand. She stared at him, her eyes swelling with tears. She knew what he was about to say. She snatched her hand back. “Don’t say it. He’s not dead. I know he’s not.”

Tristan’s eyes flashed and she saw his jaw muscles tighten. “Alright. But if we also want to stay not dead, then we should go back.”

Branwyn felt a tiny twinge of guilt. She should not take out her fear and anger on him. It was not his fault.

Tristan nodded his head in the direction they had come from. “Come on.”

Branwyn knew he was right, but her feet stayed frozen on the spot. It felt too much like giving up. Like leaving Andor behind.

Tristan stepped over to her and pressed a hand on her back, forcing her to move. “Andor’s strong and he’s resourceful.”

Reluctantly Branwyn allowed her feet to move, but she gazed back over her shoulder. Tristan remained directly behind her, his hand between her shoulders, pushing her onwards. Branwyn stumbled over a root at her feet. Tristan caught her, even as he almost tumbled over her.

“Do I have to pick you up and carry you?” he said. He tried to keep his voice firm, but Branwyn heard the hint of a smile breaking through.

“No,” she sighed.

They picked up their pace, and Branwyn sensed an urgency in the two men beside her. They did not want to be lost in the forest alone, despite their brave words. As they neared the place where the Torelians had been, a sinking feeling formed in Branwyn’s stomach. They should have seen someone by now, but all around them the woods were empty. All three of them rushed forward. The only signs left of the group were their footprints pressed into the ground amidst the trampled heather.

“They’ve gone,” said Rook. He looked up. The sky was growing dim. It would not be an easy trail to follow in the dark.

Suddenly, a person stepped out from behind a tree. Or had he been standing so still they had not seen him? It was the Fae huntsman who had warned them against straying too far.

“This way,” he said, pointing a hand in the direction the Torelians had taken.

“I thought you said you weren’t going to wait,” said Rook, as he approached the Fae.

The Fae’s mouth gave the tiniest twitch of a smile before he turned and guided them further into the forest.