The Gold Falcon - Katharine Kerr [4]
Eventually Clae squirmed into his brother’s lap like a child half his size and fell asleep. Neb drowsed, but every snap of a twig, cry of an owl, or rustle of wind woke him in startled terror. When at last the gray dawn came, he felt as stiff and cold as an old man. Clae woke in tears, crying out at his memories.
“Hush, hush,” Neb said, but he felt like weeping himself. “Now we have to think. We don’t have a cursed bite to eat, and we’d best find something.”
“We can’t go down to the river. If the Horsekin are still there, they’ll smell us out.”
“They’ll what?”
“Smell us out. They can do that.”
“How do you know?”
Clae started to answer, then looked away, visibly puzzled. “Someone must have told me,” he said at last.
“Well, we’ve heard plenty of tales about the Horsekin, sure enough. Speaking of noses, wipe yours on your sleeve, will you?”
Clae obliged. “I never thought I’d miss Uncle Brwn,” he said, then began to weep in a silent trickle of tears. Our uncle’s dead, Neb thought. The last person who would take us in, even if he was a sot.
“We’re going to walk east,” Neb said. “We’ll follow the rising sun so we won’t get lost. On the other side of the forest, we’ll find a village. It’s a long way, so you’ll have to be brave.”
“But, Neb,” Clae said, “what will we eat?”
“Oh, berries and birds’ eggs and herbs.” Neb made his voice as strong and cheery as he could. “There’s always lots to eat in summer.”
He was, of course, being ridiculously optimistic. The birds’ eggs had long since hatched; few berry bushes grew in forest shade. At every step the forest itself blocked their way with ferns and shrubs, tangled between the trees. They had to push their way through, creeping uphill and hurrying down as they searched for the few herbs that would feed, not poison them. Water at least they had; they came across a good many rivulets trickling down to join the Melyn. By sundown, Clae could not make himself stop weeping. They made a nest among low-growing shrubs, where Neb rocked him to sleep like a baby.
As he watched the shadows darken around them, Neb realized that they were going to die. He had no idea how far the forest stretched. Were they going straight east? Trying to follow the sun among trees might have them wandering around in circles. You can’t give up, he told himself. He’d promised his dying mother that he’d keep Clae safe. The one concern he could allow himself now was keeping them both alive. He fell asleep to dream of sitting at his mother’s table and watching her pile bread and beef onto the trencher he shared with Clae.
In the morning, Neb woke with a start. A gaggle of gnomes stood around them as if they were standing guard, while sprites floated overhead. The yellow gnome materialized and stood pointing to its stomach.
“Do you know where there’s food?” Neb whispered.
The gnome nodded and pointed off into the forest.
“Can you show me where it is?”
Again the gnome nodded. When Neb shook him, Clae woke with a howl and a scatter of tears. He slid off Neb’s lap and screwed his fists into his eyes.
“Time to get on the road,” Neb said with as much cheer as he could muster. “I’ve got the feeling we’re going to be lucky today.”
“My feet hurt. I can’t walk anymore.” Clae lowered his hands. “I’ll just die here.”
“You won’t do any such thing. Here, stick out your legs. One at a time! I’ll wrap the swaddling for you.”
With the rags bound tight against his feet, Clae managed to keep walking. As they beat their way through fern and thistle, the Wildfolk led the boys straight into the forest, dodging around the black-barked pines and trampling through green ferns. Neb was beginning to wonder if the gnomes knew where they were going when he realized that up ahead the light was growing brighter. The trees grew farther apart, and the underbrush thinned. A few more yards, and they stepped out into a clearing, where a mass of redberry canes grew in a mound. Clae rushed forward and was already stuffing his mouth when Neb caught up with him. Neb mumbled a prayer of thanks to the gods, then began plucking every berry he