Page 20 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Sixteen

TOLVAR

T he Wolf preferred to travel with a much smaller band than they did now.

Even in his glory days five years ago, when he had competed in the thirteen tournaments throughout Lenfore to celebrate the victory of the War of a Hundred Nights, his band was never so large.

The only other time he had traveled with a group so large was back in Deogol with Sloane and the Ravyns.

“We look like a band of minstrels,” he’d commented to Joss.

But he did have to admit, it felt safer, which was good now that they were on Anscom’s land. Fifteen knights had arrived from Wesgate with a note delivered from Sir Connall:

I shall not question the affairs of m’lord but do use precaution so as to return to Thorin Court in one piece. Everything is well-managed here.

Tolvar rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed that he hadn’t paid one thought to the well-being of Thorin Court. Stars, he was terrible at this earl business. He was much better at being a knight. At least he now had Elanna safely surrounded day and night by armed guards.

Their travel had resumed smoothly thus far.

Only three days remained until they reached Asalle.

Already, the bruise on Elanna’s neck had faded to a greenish-yellow.

For the most part, she’d recovered her voice, and she did not seem as pained when eating or drinking.

A miraculous recovery, in truth. Was it the starlight that flowed through her veins that served to heal her more quickly?

Tolvar had witnessed a few other strangled victims. One had died.

Others had taken a full moon to recover.

Stars, was he again itching to find belief?

He tromped off the campsite to find a quiet spot.

He found himself needing this solitary time less and less the past week—or was there simply not time?

—but still found comfort in being alone.

Mayhap he was merely a man of solitude. Tolvar sat on a boulder and reached into his left side pocket.

He stopped himself and, instead of drawing out Sloane’s moon cuff, drew a small stone half the size of his fist from his right side pocket.

It was smooth and black save for the rough, jagged, azure blue line that ran down the middle—the Edan Stone.

A piece of the moon itself, imbued with magic, so a scholar had told him.

Sloane had confirmed it. She’d used it to track and defend herself from the Befallen.

And then she’d gifted it to Tolvar. He was alive because of her, because of this stone. In many ways, he hated this hunk of rock.

He held it at eye level. If he so desired, Tolvar was certain he could snap the stone in twain.

He knew not why he kept it. ’Twas naught but a weighty reminder.

The stone was placed back in his pocket, and Tolvar found himself pacing back and forth.

There’d been so much going on the last few days, he hadn’t had proper time to process everything Elanna had told him back in Tam’s Ford.

He’d sent three scouts into villages they’d passed.

Two had heard the news that the prince was not in Asalle.

His hand went to his sword. Strange that he carried this weapon again after four years of carrying his father’s. This sword had seen war already.

He unsheathed it and studied the hilt, inlaid with amber gemstones.

One stone was missing from its head, the prongs like empty fingers.

The stone had been lost due to damage the sword had taken in the Battle of Reva.

His brother had attempted to help him locate the stone, but it was gone.

After, Crevan had oft asked why Tolvar had never had the gemstone replaced.

But there was no answer for his brother.

Mayhap it symbolized something more than a lost gem.

Stars.

He gave the sword a few practice swings. Gemstone or no, Tolvar knew the worth of his weapon. In a deft motion, Tolvar pivoted and scrutinized the trees behind him. Something was there. Or someone?

His eyes raked over the details of the branches, some covered with new leaves, some with white buds still clinging to them. Behind him, the sounds of camp were normal. He stepped closer, his sword aloft. Suddenly, rustling came from the underbrush as some hidden creature raced away.

“What was it?” said Elanna’s voice behind him.

Tolvar’s sword came inches from her nose. Both their mouths flew open.

“Never do that.”

Her hand at her chest, Elanna put on a feigned smile. “From the stories I am hearing from your men, I thought it impossible to sneak up on the Wolf.” Her smile widened and turned mischievous.

“You sound like Hux.” He sheathed his sword. “And I do not know what it was. A grouse, squirrel, mayhap a fox.”

“Fox.” Elanna’s mouth went slack. “Oh my stars.”

Tolvar took her by the shoulders as he narrowed his eyes. “What is it?”

“That night…” She gestured to her neck. “The man said something. Something like, ‘The fox has greater schemes than you.’”

Her face was bone white. He saw his reaction to her words reflected back at him in her eyes.

“The fox?” He strung out his words. “You are certain he said fox?”

She nodded. “Who is the fox?” Elanna’s voice was as pale as her face.

“Do you not remember?” Hux said, stepping into the clearing to join them. “He’s Tolvar’s brother, Crevan. And he’s supposed to be dead.”

Tolvar did not wait for Elanna’s reaction. He pivoted and tromped into the trees, telling Hux to douse out as he called after him.

Where was he? Crevan was close. Tolvar’s grip on his sword turned his knuckles white.

His eyes trained themselves on hunting. Every fallen leaf, every snapped twig, every impression made by the paws of forest creatures could not escape his stalking eyes.

He paused and sniffed the air. ’Twas still.

Not this way. Tolvar turned to the east, guided by instinct and rage.

Where was he?

After a half-hour’s hunt, he discovered something. Tolvar crouched for a closer look. A half print of a boot, not a day old. He stood and, with awareness and precision, rotated.

“What in the name of the moon goddesses are you doing?” Hux said, taking no care to tread quietly.

Tolvar thought of several impressive insults to shoot at Hux. Instead, he swiveled around deliberately and kept his voice low. “He is here somewhere, Hux. I can feel it.”

“Crevan? Your brother who was killed when the Befallen was destroyed?”

“Never found a body.”

Hux stooped and studied the bootprint. If Tolvar was a man of compliments, he might have told the Ravyn he was impressed he’d noticed it.

“This could be anyone’s.”

“’Tis not.”

“How would he get here?” Hux traced his fingers along the print. “He was mortally wounded. Not to mention his gang of Brones were all killed as well.”

They shared a glance. These were the exact thoughts Tolvar pondered.

“But the fact remains that someone did attack Elanna,” Hux said. “Why?”

After a day’s search, they’d found clues. Tolvar hadn’t slept in two days; he didn’t need sleep, he told himself. He had his clues. They’d found a trail of bootprints and the remnants of two camps. The fatigue was worth it.

“These could be anyone’s camps, sir,” Joss had argued, but she was wrong. Tolvar knew it was Crevan and about seven men, he’d theorized. Crevan’s group was following them. At least, they had been. It seemed their trail headed east, now, away from them.

“Lord Wolf, what are we doing?” Hux questioned while Tolvar searched through what was left of the second camp, hunting for more clues. “We are now behind an entire day’s travel. I thought it was imperative that we return to that boring excuse for a capital. Save the world and all that.”

“We must find him, Hux. You saw what happened to Elanna. We have to protect her. And that man who attacked her said there was a great scheme. I’ll not have Crevan out there planning some new evil. Who knows what he conspires this time?”

“We do not actually have proof he’s alive,” Hux said. “Elanna could have misheard or remembered it wrong. Someone else could fancy himself a fox.”

The term “fox” was the most important clue of all.

Crevan had attempted to hide it but had harbored jealousy that Tolvar had been granted a knight’s title and he had not.

But years ago, he’d offered a joke between the two brothers that since Tolvar was the Wolf, then Crevan, with his red hair and slouchier build, would coin himself “the Fox.”

“Nay. Nay, 'tis Crevan.” Tolvar sniffed some half-burnt leaves from an old cookfire. “Besides, you heard Elanna last night say what she recalled. She Saw him. A red-headed man with a scar.”

“Because he’s the only man in the realm with red hair?

” Hux smirked. “ Or mayhap ’tis someone else.

She knows not what Crevan looked like. And, though it pains me to be the voice of reason, I might point out she also shared the warning from the stars—Do they always speak in riddles?

—to stay on the path or find doom or something poetic like that. ”

Tolvar was not listening. Couldn’t listen. Crevan was out there, and he would stop him this time before more people got hurt, or worse. Elanna might always carry scars from that terrible night. The thought made his chest tighten. He continued rummaging through the bleak remains of the camp.

“Damn it, Tolvar, I ne’er wish to give reason a tone, but you’re acting crazed.”

“If we leave in one hour’s time and ride hard, we may be able to catch up to them.” Tolvar studied a handful of dirt mixed with ash. “This is last night’s camp.”

Hux folded his arms. “You’re pledged to take Elanna to Asalle.”

“And I will. After I track and kill Crevan.”

“Take it from me. A man obsessed with rage and revenge turns toward dark paths.”

Tolvar snorted. “I worry not that I’ll turn to a life of thievery, Ravyn.”

Hux gave a sad smile. “I’m afraid that when filled with rage, we often lack control to make better choices.”

Tolvar scanned the eastern horizon. “We’ll leave Elanna with Joss and seven others. You and I and the rest will ride upon the hour.”

“See what I mean? You leave Elanna guarded with only half our force. What sort of decision is that? What if this is a trap?”

“You would know about such notions,” Tolvar scoffed, referring to the episode in which Hux had Sloane kidnapped. He peered through a spyglass he removed from his satchel.

“But what if? I shall stay with Elanna.”

“Be my guest, Ravyn. And ’tis not a trap. I can see the dust of their steeds.”