Page 58 of A Land So Wide

T he mining camp erupted into chaos.

Elowen staggered back, pressing talons over her neck, trying to stanch the bubbling wound.

Instantly the remaining Gathered went on the defensive: The two smaller Bright-Eyeds plummeted down from the cliff wall to protect their injured sovereign.

One knelt over her, mopping at the blood, applying pressure, and screeching as loudly as a nest of cicadas.

The other took a wide stance, enormous eyes darting from structure to structure, looking for other threats.

Hearing their cries of rage, the taller guard returned. Startled, he scanned the scene, trying to determine what had happened. When he spotted the knife, he dived at Ellis, wings spread wide to sail over the uneven ground.

“Get Ellis, we need to get Ellis!” Greer cried, leaping from their hiding spot.

She charged across the open space. Finn shifted form and swooped in after her. He tackled the guard midair, and they tumbled down together, rolling in a dizzying flash of bared teeth and claws and wings.

For a split second, Elowen’s eyes met Greer’s, sharp and seething.

She tried speaking, but air whistled over her damaged vocal cords, and her words came out like nails across slate.

Then Greer was with Ellis, and she pulled him to his feet.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, mindful of his broken nose, all too aware of the Bright-Eyeds at their back.

He reached for her, looking dazed. “What are you doing here? How did you—”

“We’ve got to run,” she said, tugging him toward the forest. “Hurry!”

The guard Finn was fighting broke away from their brawl and circled after Greer and Ellis.

Greer swung her rucksack at the Bright-Eyed and slammed a blow to its side, but it recovered quickly, striking her across the temple so hard she fell backward, seeing stars. A high pitch rang in her ears, and she groaned, struggling to rise.

“No!” Finn cried, skittering toward her in a flash.

As he inspected her wound, Ellis went after the Bright-Eyed. He managed to land a punch to the monster’s jaw, but was knocked back as the tall guard lashed round. Ellis was thrown behind the moldering remains of an outbuilding, crashing through a post as if it were a stack of blocks.

“Finn, you have to get him out of here,” Greer pleaded.

He shook his head, gently prodding at her temple. “I’m not leaving you.”

“We can’t do what we need to with him here. Get him to safety, please.”

High over the camp, the tall Bright-Eyed roared with triumph before tucking his wings close, diving after Ellis.

“Finn, please !”

With a frustrated curse, Finn darted behind the building and grabbed Ellis by the scruff of his neck. He strained to lift both of them skyward, his great wings beating for all they were worth, kicking up snowflakes and bits of grit. Greer squinted, trying to follow their path.

“Stick to the plan!” Finn shouted to Greer before heading south.

“No!” Ellis howled, fighting and flailing. “You can’t leave her! Greer, you have to run! You have to…” The forest snatched away the rest of his words.

She watched them go, wishing she could follow, but the snow was too deep and they were too fast and she’d never be able to outrace…

She froze, suddenly aware that the commotion behind her had silenced.

Dreading what she was about to see, Greer turned.

Every Bright-Eyed’s gaze was fixed upon her.

She could feel blood trickling down her face, and saw how their eyes tracked each drop. Her mouth dried. Her stomach rolled over. It was a terrible thing to face another creature and realize you were so much smaller, so much less fearsome, and so very much alone.

She wanted to take a breath, to cry, to plead, to something, but couldn’t. Couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything but—

The cloak.

Everything inside Greer screamed at her not to put it on. She saw Ellis’s face, his look of sorrow and understanding, his pity. If she wore it, she would no longer be the woman he knew, the woman he loved. It would change her in ways she could not predict.

But it would save him.

Recklessly, she unfurled Ailie’s cloak, letting its fullness flutter free. It sparkled under the moonlight, the metallic threads dazzling and as bright as the stars overhead.

“The sovereign’s mantle,” whispered the tall guard, cowed by its luster.

“Get it,” Elowen managed to gasp, stabbing her knobby, elongated finger at Greer.

“This?” Greer held out the cape as if she might actually hand it over.

Elowen’s eyes burned, smoldering with contempt.

With a burst of reckless laughter, Greer bundled the cloak beneath her arm and took off running, heading into the forest. She didn’t dare look back; the Bright-Eyeds would be on her within seconds. There was a hiss of orders from Elowen, and Greer heard the rattle of blood across the wound.

“Thank you, Ellis,” she murmured, darting into the tree’s shadows.

She’d planned to make a large circle, swooping back toward the camp, but the Gathered crashed through the undergrowth, moving slower than expected.

Their giant wings did them no favors in the dense woods, and Greer began to envision a scenario in which her stupid, ill-thought-out scheme might actually work.

But then she heard the footfalls.

They came from her right, the sound of padded paws dancing over the snow. She heard the pant of an animal racing after her at lethal speed. She saw the swish of a tail, long and tufted and nearly white.

The tall guard had shifted, giving himself the sleek body of a wolf. Greer caught sight of yellow eyes just before it lunged, jaws snarled wide.

She ducked, pivoting her direction, and the wolf skittered past, sliding into a snowbank. It rolled, flipping over to find its prey, but Greer was already heading back toward the site. She raced through the rubble as fast as her snowshoes would allow.

The yard was empty.

That surprised Greer. She’d assumed that the Bright-Eyeds would chase after her, temporarily leaving their sovereign behind. But the spot where Elowen had lain was empty, save for a smattering of blood and something else, something small and precious, cast aside in the chaos and forgotten.

The iron knife.

It stuck out of a snowdrift, its flat edge reflecting moonlight and drawing Greer’s attention. The handle had been carved of bone, but even so, her skin prickled as she pulled it free, uncomfortably close to the iron. How it must have burned Elowen as it sank in.

Greer whirled back with the knife drawn, ready for the wolf.

But it was gone.

An eerie stillness fell over the site. Nothing stirred. Nothing breathed.

Greer scanned the area, keeping a sharp watch on the sky, wary of an attack from above.

When a great horned owl fell from the darkness, too big to be anything but one of the Gathered, talons stretched forward to gouge her eyes, she was ready.

Dropping Ailie’s cloak, she slashed at the owl with the knife and caught the bird across its belly.

It screeched once, sounding so much louder than an owl had any right to.

Innards spilled free, steaming lengths of intestines falling into the snow.

When the body hit the ground, it landed with a lumbering thud.

In death, the Bright-Eyed returned to its monstrous state, and now lay sprawled on its side, wings stretched in broken angles, fractured in the fall, its face forever frozen in a murderous snarl.

Greer’s insides thrummed; her heart was pattering so fast she felt it might burst from her chest. She’d killed another Bright-Eyed, this time without the power of her scream.

That made two.

She glanced down into the mine’s tunnels, watching, listening. Somewhere in that darkness were more. They did not know what had happened to Elowen. They did not know Greer was here at all.

That left just the wolf and one other outside.

But Elowen…

Elowen could be anywhere. With no tracks in the snow, Greer had to assume she’d managed to fly away.

But which way had she gone? Into the trees or down the tunnel?

Greer tried to focus on the sounds coming from the mine, but there were too many tunnels full of too many echoes.

Noises bounced off rocky walls, repeating their cadence until they were a jumble of sound, falling over themselves in a mess of confusion.

She couldn’t pinpoint their source, couldn’t make sense of the rustled whispers.

Turning to the forest, she wondered why Finn had yet to return.

She pictured the way Ellis had fought against him.

Had he somehow wounded Finn, causing both of them to fall from the sky?

Before she could stop herself, she imagined them broken and bloody, impaled upon the rocky outcrops below the mine.

What if they were both dead, and it was now only her against the Gathered?

Greer’s fingers jangled against her thighs.

Two in the forest.

Elowen missing.

She sighed. The tunnels were her best choice, the one she’d have taken in Elowen’s place. Giving the tree line a final sweep, Greer picked up the cloak and slipped into the mine.

Even with Finn’s blood coursing through her, it was difficult to see far ahead in such shrouding darkness.

The tunnel was roughly hewn. Greer could make out individual marks made by the miners’ shovels and pickaxes as they’d bored into the mountain.

Wooden beams and layers of bricks helped support the arched shaft.

Farther down, the tunnel split into two corridors.

Greer hurried down the length and stopped at a small niche just before the junction.

Before she went any farther, there was something she needed to do.

Greer shook out her mother’s cloak. It was so dark she could barely see its inky form, but she felt its energies all the same. Before putting it on, she paused, listening to the overlapping echoes of sound washing over her.

From the tunnel’s entrance came the padding of footsteps, slow and cautious. Then a sharp sniff, a predator testing the air. Greer peeked around the corner and caught sight of two wolves poised at the mouth of the tunnel, their ears pricked with curious agitation.

She ducked back, holding her breath and trying to not make a single sound.

The wolves were enormous, far larger than any Greer had ever seen in the wilds. If they’d stood face-to-face with her, their gaping maws would be right at her eyes. She did not doubt that their teeth were just as oversized.

Greer listened as they crept into the mine, taking one step, then another, drawing ever closer to where she hid. Their scent filled the closed space, a sharp musk, feral and biting. In seconds, they’d be alongside her.

Now, now, do it now.

The voice in her head—her conscious, her other, inner self—sounded just like Finn. Was it his blood or just solid reasoning that now turned her thoughts, spurring her to action?

A chilled sweat broke over her as she fought back a sudden rush of nerves.

It didn’t matter who said it—she herself or Finn—the words held truth.

It was time.

Wincing, she pulled Ailie’s cloak over her head, feeling like a frightened child gripping the magical belief that if she couldn’t see the monsters, they wouldn’t see her. The velvet fell over her hunched form, covering her completely, and all at once, Greer realized she’d made a mistake.

The energy she’d felt all day sank into her, seeping across her skin like drops of ink on paper, staining everything it touched.

She scrunched her eyes, biting into the flesh of her palm to keep from crying out.

The magic burned, as potent as a forest fire sweeping through dried brush. Her blood tingled, and her teeth felt too large in her mouth. She wanted to toss back her head and howl out her anguish, but the wolves were too close, and she was in no position to fight.

The magic’s heat settled deep into the marrow of her bones, warming her with such ferocity she wanted to cast the cloak from her, rip off her clothing, and peel away her undergarments.

She wanted to race into the frigid night and dive into an icy stream, certain it was the only thing that would bring relief.

Her ears pounded, stretched and overwhelmed by the new rush of sounds she caught.

She could hear the wolves’ heartbeats, the blood pumping through their veins.

As she listened to the soft whooshes, her mouth watered; she was suddenly parched, suddenly aching to brandish her new teeth.

They were longer, sharper; she imagined how good it would feel to sink them deep into flesh, bursting apart skin like overripe berries.

Greer’s eyes flashed open, and the muscles in her legs trembled, readying to act.

The wolves were in striking distance, but a small part of Greer rebelled against these new, wicked desires. It grabbed hold of her racing mind, tried to stifle the hunger seizing her middle, and harnessed the surge of impulses flooding her system.

The wolves passed the niche and wandered deeper into the tunnel; Greer let out a silent sigh of relief. With her hidden beneath the cloak, they’d been completely unaware of both her presence and just how close they’d come to death.

She swiped her arm out, ready to fling away the cloak and all its dizzying powers, but it was no longer there. Greer searched the floor of the niche, horribly aware of how clearly she could now see in the dark, but it was gone, as if it had never existed. As if it…

Greer raised her hands, studying the shaking fingers.

She recalled the fiery feeling of the velvet against her skin, the sensation sinking inside her.

She’d absorbed the cloak’s magic. It was a part of her now, integral and inextricable.

Holding the wall for balance, she rose, as wobbly as a newborn foal, standing on legs new and too long.

All her senses were heightened. The tunnel seemed impossibly bright, as though she were outside, basking in the glow of a midday sun.

Details she hadn’t noted before were now emblazoned onto her retinas, in sharp clarity.

She could see the residual grime along the ceiling from smoke cast by lanterns that had not burned in decades.

She saw water trickling down the walls, each drop as brilliant and sparkling as a tiny jewel.

The air was cool and scented with minerals, and when she took in a breath, she could smell the Bright-Eyeds, could sense their heat. She knew exactly which tunnels they’d gone down.

The odor of the wolves was obvious, but there was a difference to the batlike creatures, a meatier funk, like warmed body oils and hair that hadn’t been washed in weeks, and above even that, a scent Greer recognized instantly from the night she’d been attacked by the river.

An earthy, loamy blend of bog water and peat moss, crushed violets and prickly thistles.

Elowen.

She had gone into the mine, and now Greer knew exactly where to find her.