Page 4

CHAPTER 4

B ella cursed as her wrench slipped, skinning her knuckles against the sharp edge of the generator housing. She sucked at the beads of blood, tasting metal and frustration.

“Come on, you stubborn piece of junk,” she muttered, wiping her hand on her already stained coveralls.

The small generator had been giving her trouble all morning. Normally, she’d lose herself in the work, finding peace in the logical puzzles of gears and circuits. But today, her mind kept wandering to the mountains.

Papa should have been back three days ago.

She set down her wrench and rubbed her eyes, leaving a smudge of grease across her cheek. The annual fair only lasted two days. Even if he’d stayed for the entire event and taken his time on the return journey, he should have made it back by now.

The workshop felt too quiet without him. No humming as he tinkered with inventions, no gentle teasing about her single-minded focus when she worked, no discussions of their latest projects over shared meals.

“Maybe the wagon broke down,” she said to the empty room. “Or he sold everything and decided to stay an extra day to celebrate.”

The excuses sounded hollow even to her own ears.

She paced restlessly to the front window, scanning the road that led to the village center. A few villagers milled about, going about their daily business. Mrs. Holden and her daughter carried baskets from the market. Two farmers whose names she couldn’t remember paused their conversation to stare at her workshop before continuing on their way, heads bent close together.

Her lips thinned. The village had been buzzing with tension since the bonding ceremony between Korrin and Tessa. The negotiations with the Vultor had stalled afterward, and rumors spread faster than wildfire. Some claimed the Vultor had shown their true nature during the ceremony, others insisted they’d been insulted by some human misstep.

She hadn’t been there. She’d intended to go—she’d even pulled out her one good dress—but something had stopped her. Maybe it was the thought of all the stares and whispers from the other villagers at seeing her in a dress. Or maybe it was simply that witnessing her friend’s happiness would only make her own loneliness more acute. Instead she’d sat in her darkened room and watched the villagers stream by, full of excited chatter.

Whatever the truth about what had happened there, the timing couldn’t be worse. If she mentioned her father had gone through Vultor territory and hadn’t returned, it would only fuel the fire.

I have to go after him.

The only problem was the route. She gave the crude map she’d made of the region a worried look. Her father had taken the detailed one he’d found with him, but she’d sketched out what she remembered. Unfortunately the area where the road entered the mountains and which pass it took remained frustratingly vague.

“I should have gone with him,” she said, tracing the line of the road with her fingertip until it disappeared into the blank space representing the mountains. She’d never traveled that way herself, and asking around would only raise questions she didn’t want to answer.

She paced the workshop, her boots scuffing against the worn floorboards. In addition to the generator, a pile of half-finished projects cluttered her workbench—repairs for villagers that would have to wait. The copper wings of the small mechanical bird gleamed in the sunlight.

“What would you do, Papa?” she whispered.

Movement outside caught her attention. Peering through the window, she spotted a small, silver-haired figure making her way down the village path. Agatha Ashworth, her back straight despite her years, a basket over one arm.

Her pulse quickened as an idea struck her. Agatha had lived in the village longer than anyone else, and unlike most humans, she seemed comfortable around the Vultor. More than once, Bella had spotted her in conversation with one of them during the negotiations, speaking with an ease that suggested familiarity.

She wiped her hands on a rag and hurried to the door.

“Mrs. Ashworth!” she called, stepping onto the porch. “Could I trouble you for a moment?”

Agatha paused, sharp brown eyes assessing Bella with unsettling directness before her face softened into a smile. “Bella. It’s been some time since we’ve spoken.”

“I was wondering if you might come in for tea,” she said awkwardly. She rarely entertained visitors, and domestic skills had never been her strong suit.

“Tea would be welcome after my journey. Lead the way, child,” Agatha replied, climbing the steps with surprising agility for her age. “And you can tell me what’s troubling you.”

She blinked. “How did you?—”

“You have grease on your face, dear,” Agatha interrupted gently. “And you’re fidgeting with your hands. You only do that when you’re worried.”

Heat filled her cheeks as she led the older woman back into the workshop and hurriedly cleared space on a small table tucked in the corner. “I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”

Agatha smiled as she placed her basket on the table. “Only to those who pay attention.”

She set water to boil, conscious of the old woman’s assessing gaze taking in the organized chaos of the workshop.

“You keep a tidy shop,” Agatha added, settling into the chair Bella offered. “Your father trained you well.”

“He did,” she agreed, fishing out the least-chipped mugs she could find. “Though I’m afraid housekeeping isn’t my strong suit.”

“Overrated skill,” Agatha said with a dismissive wave. “My late husband always said a clean floor never fixed a broken wheel.”

She smiled despite her worries. She’d always liked Agatha, though they’d rarely spoken at length. The old woman had a reputation for speaking her mind regardless of who might be offended—a quality she respected.

“I’m afraid I don’t have any proper snacks to offer,” she admitted.

Agatha waved away her concern. “I’ve just come from the baker’s. I have more than enough to share.” She pulled a cloth-wrapped bundle from her basket and revealed several fresh pastries. Bella smiled at her but shook her head. Her stomach was too uneasy for food.

“Now, tell me what’s on your mind while the water boils,” Agatha continued.

She hesitated, measuring her words carefully. “My father went to the northern fair to sell some of our inventions.”

“Through the mountains,” Agatha stated rather than asked.

“Yes. He’d traded for a box of books from one of the passing traders this spring. One of the books claimed to be a history of Cresca, although it read more like a fairy tale. But it contained a map of this area, and the map showed the road through the mountains. When we heard that the mayor was negotiating a trade route through the mountains, he was sure she was referring to that old road.”

Agatha snorted. “That woman is blinded by her own greed.”

She couldn’t argue, but it didn’t help her immediate concern.

“Papa decided to use the road, but he should have been back by now.” She twisted her fingers. “I’m worried something might have happened to him on the journey.”

“And you’re planning to go after him.”

The old woman’s perceptiveness didn’t surprise her. “I am. The problem is that he took the map with him. I know the general direction, but…”

“But the mountains are treacherous for those who don’t know the way,” Agatha finished. The kettle whistled, and Bella poured the hot water into the cups.

“I was hoping you might know the path since you’ve lived here longer than anyone else,” she said, setting a steaming cup in front of Agatha. “And even though it goes through Vultor territory, I don’t think that would bother you.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What makes you say that?”

“Well your granddaughter has a Vultor mate now, but it’s more than that. I’ve seen you talking with the Vultor during the negotiations and it’s not just polite conversation—you talk to them as if you know them.”

“We’ve had… encounters over the years.”

She leaned forward eagerly. “Then you do know the way?”

“I know many things about those mountains,” Agatha said slowly. “Including that they’re dangerous, especially now.”

“I don’t have a choice. My father?—”

“Might be perfectly fine, child. The wagon could have broken down. The fair might have run longer than expected.”

“Or he could be hurt, or lost. Please, Mrs. Ashworth. I need to find him.”

Agatha sipped her tea, considering. “I know the road,” she said finally. “Though I haven’t traveled it myself in many years.”

“Could you tell me how to find it?”

“I could, but are you certain this is wise? The mountains are treacherous even in good weather. And with the negotiations stalled…”

“I have to find him,” she said simply. “He’s all I have.”

Agatha studied her for a long moment, then nodded as if coming to a decision. “Very well. Go past my cottage to where the eastern road crosses the river but instead of going over the bridge and continuing down the road, follow the river back into the mountains. Turn east where the river forks. There’s a stone marker there—can’t miss it. The road climbs from there, winding up to Raven’s Pass.”

She quickly pulled out her crude map, sketching as Agatha spoke.

“On the other side of the pass, the road descends through a dense forest before reaching the northern valley.” Agatha paused. “But there’s something you should know. The road passes close to an old keep—abandoned now, but once the home of a Vultor noble family.”

“Abandoned?” She looked up from her map and frowned at the old woman. “Is it dangerous?”

“The stones themselves? No more than any crumbling structure. But the place has a reputation. Some say it’s haunted.”

She couldn’t help a small smile. “By ghosts?”

“By something,” Agatha said, her tone unexpectedly serious. “Even the Vultor give it a wide berth.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “You think my father might have run into trouble there?”

“I think,” Agatha said carefully, “that if your father strayed from the main path for any reason, that area would be… unpredictable.”

A chill ran down her spine despite the warm tea in her hands. She wasn’t superstitious by nature—mechanical problems had logical solutions—but Agatha’s warning carried weight.

“I still have to go,” she said firmly as she set down her mug.

Agatha sighed and withdrew a small object from her pocket, placing it on the table between them. It was a compass, its brass case tarnished with age but the needle still swinging true. “In that case, take this with you. It belonged to my husband.”

“Mrs. Ashworth, I couldn’t?—”

“You can and you will,” Agatha said firmly. “The mountains can disorient even experienced travelers. This compass has never failed.”

Hesitantly, she picked up the compass. It was heavier than it looked, the brass warm from Agatha’s pocket. “Thank you. I’ll return it when I come back.”

“See that you do,” Agatha said, rising from her chair. “And Bella?”

“Yes?”

“If you encounter any Vultor, remember they’re people, not monsters. Speak clearly, meet their eyes, and show no fear. Fear is what they smell first.”

She nodded, tucking the compass carefully into her pocket. “I’ll remember.”

Agatha moved toward the door, then paused.

“One last thing. The keep I mentioned—it stands on a ridge overlooking the river. Be particularly cautious as you pass. The one who dwells there is… not as he once was.”

Before Bella could ask what she meant, Agatha continued: “Follow the main path. Look for your father along the way. But if you must approach the keep, do so in daylight, and make your presence known before you enter.”

She frowned at the old woman. “You speak as if someone still lives there, but I thought you said it was abandoned.”

“An abandoned building can still be inhabited,” Agatha replied cryptically as she stood. “Safe journey, Bella. I hope you find what you seek.”

Picking up her basket, Agatha walked briskly to the door, then paused on the threshold. “One last thing. If you find yourself at the keep, remember that appearances can deceive. Not all monsters are what they seem.”

Then Agatha was gone, leaving behind only the lingering scent of herbs and the echo of her cryptic warning. The old woman knew more than she was saying—that much was clear. But she’d given her directions, and for now, that would have to be enough.

She took a quick look at the clock and sighed. It was already past midday, but although it might have been wiser to wait and set out in the morning, her increasing feeling of urgency wouldn’t permit it.

“Hold on, Papa,” she murmured as she began to gather supplies for the journey ahead. “I’m coming to find you.”