This is Chapter 13-2 of a serial fantasy novel.

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Chapter 13: The Trespasser

Part 2

The area north of the outpost was deserted. After spending the past day weaving amongst the various ranging groups, it almost felt lonely. It would have also been peaceful, had he not been racing to catch up with Swinn.

His friend was good at covering his tracks, but Frix guessed that he’d use the most direct trails and routes between Starfire and the witch’s town. As soon as he found the trails himself, there was definite evidence of recent passage. Swinn had no more than an hour on him. If he was lucky and hurried, Frix would catch him at or near the great Rainroot river.

When he reached the watery expanse, there was no sign of Swinn. But on a hunch, Frix let fly his signature call—winged hornrat. Three quick bursts followed by a slow croon.

He crouched low by a rock outcropping and waited. A moment later, the sound came back. A snappy one-two, one-two that sought confirmation. It was distant, well past the river, but it was there. Frix grinned and repeated his call. When an acknowledging one-two-three came back, he dove into the river and swam across.

On the other side, he traveled up the trail until a soft chirp came from overhead.

“Hey Swinn,” he said, looking up.

“Frix! Hey!” Swinn scrambled down from the tree and threw an arm around him. Frix tried not to wince at the pressure on his chest. Swinn broke off, and said, “What’s wrong? Something change?”

“No uh, they sent me to come back you up. Said you’d explain everything when we met up.”

“Really? I thought they were trying to be lightweight about it all. Mossa didn’t say anything about meeting you.”

Frix had an intuition. “Yeah, that’s why it’s just me and not Dreff too. They have something else for him I guess. It’s all some sort of last minute thing.”

“Oh yeah? So Dreff’s at the outpost too? I didn’t really have time to look.”

“Yeah, he’s there alright. Cheerful as ever. C’mon, we have to hustle, I must have delayed you.”

The two continued on, and Frix got what he could out of Swinn. Unfortunately, it wasn’t much. Mossa had the full brief, and it was on a need to know basis. Frix learned that they had escorted the campwitch up to town, where she had gone and sniffed around for clues or something. Swinn had delivered a coded message to a bole-marshal, which they both figured was a signal to advance.

“You really think they’re going to try and take over the town?” Frix said.

“I guess. I mean, you saw how many are gathered at Starfire,” Swinn said.

“That’s why we were raiding earlier, huh? The bridge and the pyre?”

“I’m thinking so. Mossa couldn’t say much, but she thinks Bettine wants the stone at the middle.”

“And the campwitch? I suppose she’s going to help with it?” asked Frix.

“She must be. Even if the whole triadic group went at the town, I don’t think we’d be able to overrun hundreds of witches. They’re dangerous enough alone, right?” Swinn gave him a teasing smirk.

Frix didn’t find it funny. “You think this is a good idea though? Like, what if they call in backup from another town?” The enormity of the red lines suggested that there may be much more than simple towns out there. He didn’t share this idea with Swinn. Not yet.

“The forest belongs to the Greatsparkers, Frix. Always has.”

“You don’t poke a bearling cub when its momma is nearby.”

“But if it’s alone and you surround it… hell you can take down a full grown one. Delicious.” Swinn wiggled his eyebrows.

“Delicious,” Frix repeated, as uneasy prickles worked their way up the back of his neck.

“Feed you for weeks, ‘specially the blubber.”

They switched topics then, Swinn talking about the trek up and how the campwitch was flying through the water and stripping in front of him. Frix listened with detached interest, spending most of his energy on trying to curb his anxiety and stave off his exhaustion.

After some time, Swinn suggested they take a quick break. They came off the path and found some berry bushes in a swampy little depression.

“I’ve got some dried preserves too, what did you bring?” asked Swinn, as they settled on some grassy lumps.

Frix’s pack was scant; he was pretty much out of the stuff he had taken from the drunkards. He rummaged around, too drained to come up with any excuse.

“Sorry, I…” he looked up as Swinn stood carefully.

“Frix, where’s your slinger?”

“It’s… I didn’t…”

“What’s going on?” Swinn’s hand floated to his shortsharp’s handle.

Frix stood, hands held out. “Swinn, relax. I can explain.”

“They didn’t send you out at all, did they? I knew something was up.”

“No. They didn’t. I wasn’t even supposed to be at the outpost. They sent me south. Ottrah sent me south.”

“South? What? Why?”

Frix pulled on some of his buttons and loosened a string. His chest padding fell away to reveal the ugly marks. Swinn stared hard, blinking slowly, as Frix recounted the duel and the conversation with Ottrah. Then the little adventure with Mill. How the red haze that kept coming back to him, following him out of his dreams and into the day.

“You are out of your mind, Frix. You’ll be executed. You can’t walk away from this. What if the cart driver starves out there?”

“I have to find her again, Swinn.”

“She put something in you. You’ve been poisoned by the bloodlight.” Swinn pulled his weapon out.

“Maybe,” Frix said, backing up. “But Ottrah said there was more to it. I believe there’s more to it. And I think what we are planning here is really dangerous. For everyone.”

“Frix…”

“You can’t think this is normal, or right. Swinn, come on. You’re not your brother. Dreff would love to go slice up some witches. I couldn’t do it. Could you do it? Atrocity has a little sister, probably Callum’s age. Could you stick that blade through a little girl? Could you?”

“Don’t bring my family into this,” said Swinn.

“Your family slashed itself into my seedblessed chest, I—” he stopped. “Sorry. Sorry but I can’t go along with this.”

“Then you should have stayed south.”

 

 

Continued in Chapter 13, Part 3

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