The Charnel Prince - J. Gregory Keyes [69]
“The boy?” Winna asked.
Stephen’s voice sobered. “He died.”
No one said anything at that. There wasn’t much to say.
The forest was still, its normal sounds returning.
“You two stay with her,” Aspar said. “I’m going to see what became of our friend’s companion.”
“Aspar, wait,” Winna said. “What if it is Fend? What if he’s leading you into another trap?”
He touched her hand. “I think the one trap was all he had planned. If we hadn’t had the praifec’s arrow, it would have worked well enough.”
“You used the arrow?” Stephen said.
“It had Winna,” Aspar said. “It was in the trees. There was nothing else I could do.”
Stephen frowned, but then nodded. He walked over to the utin, knelt near the corpse, and gingerly removed the dart.
“I see what you mean,” he said. “The other arrows didn’t even penetrate a fingerbreadth.” He shot them a wry grin. “At least we know it works.”
“Yah. On utins,” Aspar allowed. “I’ll be back.” He squeezed Winna’s hand. “And I’ll be careful.”
He followed the tracks for a few hundred yards, which was as far as he dared alone. He’d told Winna the truth—he didn’t fear a trap—but he did fear that the Sefry was working his way back to Stephen and Winna, to catch them while he was away. Fend would like nothing more than to kill someone else Aspar loved, and he’d just come as close to losing Winna as he ever wanted to.
“It still looks like he’s alone,” Aspar said.
They had been following the Sefry trail for the better part of a day.
“Traveling fast,” Ehawk said. “But he wants to be followed.”
“Yah, I reckon that, too,” Aspar said.
“What do you mean?” Stephen asked.
“The trail is obvious—sloppy even. He’s making no effort to lose us.”
“Ehawk just said he seems to be in a hurry.”
“That’s not enough to account for it. He hasn’t even tried the simplest tricks to throw us off. He crossed three broohs, and never even waded up or down the stream. Werlic, Ehawk is right—he wants us to follow him for some reason.”
“If its Fend, he’s likely leading us somewhere unpleasant,” Winna said.
Aspar scratched the stubble on his chin. “I’m not sure it is Fend. I didn’t get a very clear look, but I didn’t see an eye patch. And the prints look too small.”
“But whoever it was, he was traveling with the utin, just as Fend and Brother Desmond traveled with the greffyn. So it’s probably one of Fend’s bunch, right?”
“Well, so far as I know, Fend’s outlaws are the only Sefry left in the forest,” Aspar agreed. “The rest left months ago.”
The trail had pulled them deep into the forest. Here there was no sign of the black thorns. Huge chestnut trees rose around them, and the ground was littered with their stickery issue. Somewhere near, a woodpecker drummed away, and now and then they heard the honking of geese, far overhead.
“What could they be up to?” Winna wondered aloud.
“I reckon we’ll find out,” Aspar said.
Evening came, and they made camp. Winna and Stephen rubbed down the horses while Ehawk started a fire. Aspar scouted, memorizing the land so he might know it in the dark.
They decamped at the first light of dawn and continued on. The tracks were fresher now—their quarry wasn’t mounted, while they were. Despite his speed, they were catching up.
Midday, Aspar noticed something through the trees ahead and waved the others to a halt. He glanced at Stephen.
“I don’t hear anything unusual,” Stephen said. “But the smell—it reeks of death.”
“Keep ready,” Aspar said.
“Holy saints,” Stephen breathed as they got near enough to see.
A small stone building sat on a rounded tumulus of earth. Around the base of the mound lay a perimeter of human corpses, reduced mostly to bone. Stephen was right, though—the stink was still there. To his saint-blessed senses it had to be overwhelming, Aspar supposed.
Stephen confirmed that by doubling over and retching. Aspar waited until he was done, then moved closer.
“It’s like before,” Aspar said. “Like the sacrifices your renegade monks were making. This is a sedos, yah?”
“It’s a sedos,” Stephen confirmed. “But this isn’t like before. They’re doing it correctly, this