“Oh, do stop,” said Effie. She’d heard enough of her friend’s displeasure regarding Edgar Talmadge. The man would likely never gain Jaelyn’s approval on any account. “We are wasting precious time. Squabbling gets us nowhere.”
Edgar ducked his head and blushed like a scolded school lad. Cursing something under her breath, Jaelyn folded her arms across her chest, one eyebrow raised. Effie glowered at her, but their gazes broke as a lone howl rose over the crest of the hillock.
“Gareth,” said Effie. Her heart thumped. She could sense the hound’s aura a short distance away and hear the anxious warning in his cry. He’d found something. Or something had found him.
She lofted the cane she bore so she could swing it freely. Long, straight, and lacquered dark, it had once belonged to Jack Canonbie, a fallen companion and giant of a man. She’d kept it to remember him by, and perhaps to remind herself of the closeness they’d shared for a brief time. Gnarled ruts and chips ran throughout the wood. Its length made it more of a walking staff for her own stature, and she’d had to wrap new leather about its grip to fit her smaller hands.
A shadow flitted across the hillock. Gwendoline screeched as she swooped overhead, the wee tawny owl adding her voice to Gareth’s warning howl. The owl and hound had both chosen Effie rather than the other way around—a boon of her fey blood—but they’d proven themselves as loyal as any friend. She trusted them completely.
Her gaze darted to Jaelyn. She couldn’t sense anything nearby, but that did not surprise her. Some fey were able to hide their auras from detection, and whatever it was they hunted had eluded them for many days.
“What it is?” asked Edgar. “What’s out there?”
Jaelyn’s lips widened into a snaggle-toothed grin. “This be not fer ye,” she said in a hard tone as she stalked past him. She pulled a long dirk from a sheath at her belt.
“I can handle myself,” he muttered under his breath. He drew a pistol from his coat pocket. Jaelyn clucked over her shoulder. Her footfalls barely made a sound as she climbed the hillock. Gareth fell silent, but Effie knew he was as yet unharmed. She scoured the area around him once more but could not feel another living creature besides Gwendoline circling high above.
As Jaelyn’s form grew hazy in the dwindling light, Effie marched forward. She knew her friend was more dangerous alone, and a more capable fighter, but that didn’t mean Effie hadn’t a few tricks of her own.
Her breath puffed in thick clouds as she clambered through the bracken that clung higher on the hillside. Frost crunched underfoot. By the time she and Edgar reached the top of the rise, she could no longer spy the brownie. But that mattered little. She could follow her friend’s aura without needing to keep her within sight.
The land dipped on the far side of the hillock before gently rising toward a ridge that disappeared into dark shadows and a thick grey cloud. The dim light reflected off the frost gathering atop a myriad of puddles. Effie heard the trickling of a small burn below. She felt exposed of a sudden—a cold and unsettling sensation—and hurried onward.
Scrambling toward the burn, the ground turned from frosted dirt to muck, and then to a soft and spongy bog of peat. The stench of winter moss and fetid water filled the air. An animal could wander into the slippery ground and get mired. Or a person. Either would be stuck until they froze to death.
Effie slowed and chose her footing carefully. It would not do to lose her balance in such a place. She could freeze from the damp just as easily on such a night as fall victim to the creature they stalked. When she sensed Jaelyn turn and begin edging toward her, she stopped and gestured for Edgar to do the same.
“It lies in wait and hides well,” said Jaelyn. The brownie emerged from the murky dusk. “We’ll need to rush it and take advantage.”
Effie nodded. “We’d best see to it then, before we turn into blocks of ice,” she said. “I’ll draw it out.” They had strength in numbers. It would have to be enough if the thing sprang at them, whatever it was.
She marched straight for Gareth, never-minding the racket she made as she tramped. Edgar followed at a more cautious pace. She heard his labored breathing coming in quick huffs. Of Jaelyn, she heard nothing, but she felt the brownie remained near, somewhere off to her side.
Gareth cowered in a thicket of heather sprawled over a patch of lower ground. Only a shadowy hint of his brown coat stuck out from the thicket. He shook and whined as Effie approached. The muck beneath Effie’s feet made her slide and teeter along until her legs burned from the effort of keeping upright. She stopped a few paces clear of the hound and planted herself on the balls of her toes, ready to spring aside.
“Whisht, Gareth,” she said. The wind picked up. She caught something in the air, something like mutton left to spoil under the sun.
Gripping the cane before her, she peered through the thicket.
A dry coughing sounded. The heather rustled, and the head and shoulders of the creature emerged. Tattered wisps of hair dangled, thin and oily, from an almost bald head. Pale grey flesh, dried and cracked, hung loosely about its frame. Heavy dugs and the hint of a once-kindly face gave the impression of a matronly woman. But the stench from the creature made Effie step back and clamp her mouth shut. She’d smelled the rot of corpses before, but never so strong.
“Grundbairn.” It hissed the word, and the rasping noise came again. This time, Effie heard it for what it was—a mocking cackle.
The term proclaimed her affinity as a fey. A rarity, Grundbairns preserved the land and held a bond with all living things. It was why animals gave her such affection, and how she could sense the roots and veins of water trickling far below the earth.
Above, Gwendoline screeched, banking in tighter circles. Poor Gareth refused to budge. His tail slunk up to press against his belly. His bony legs trembled. Effie’s heart swelled for him. Despite his terror, he’d done his job bravely. She sent him an impression of calm and strength through her fey senses, an image of him happily lapping up marrow as a crackling fire warmed his soft fur.
The hound relaxed, though her flesh still prickled with uncertainty. “What are you?” Effie asked. She delved as she spoke, reaching out to probe at the creature’s aura.
But again she found none.
The creature locked its gaze on Edgar, who’d come to stand next to Effie. Its jaw slackened to reveal a row of teeth stained yellow. The man slunk back a step. He raised his pistol, only to drop it again and bring a hand to his head. He blinked and shook. An expression of confusion passed across his face.
“I will eat you, sweetling, before we are through,” said the creature. Its voice came as a throaty rasp.
The hairs on Effie’s neck rose in alarm. Such a change in countenance she had seen only in those afflicted by the banshee’s touch. Hastily, she switched her probing to focus on Edgar. It did not take her long to find tendrils of Fey Craft ensnaring the man’s aura. Decrepit things, they felt like befouled weeds. Effie grabbed at them with her senses. Wielding a light touch, she started to unweave their tangle.
“You have not the strength to save them all, Grundbairn,” said the creature. It lurched forward, raising a lanky arm to swipe. Edgar dropped his pistol and crumbled to his knees. He clutched his head. Effie gasped. Swiping with her senses, she ripped the foul tendrils away from Edgar, freeing him from the banshee’s touch.