Page 64 of Keeper of the Word (The Unsung and the Wolf Duology #2)

Chapter

Fifty-Eight

TOLVAR

T olvar observed from a respectful distance as Elanna wandered around Ashwin’s bones. Her uneven steps, hands pressing to her throat or chest, and downcast gaze told him that she fought. Fought the grief of losing her city, her home, and stars be good, mayhap even her sisters.

At midday, Tolvar bore anxiousness. They had still not departed from the fallen Ashwin, but Elanna would not leave until she was ready.

“I shall ne’er see Ashwin again. I need to have it memorized so I may leave plans.”

This both sobered everyone and ceased Tolvar’s further inquiry of when they might leave.

But eventually, Elanna gave one last glance at the ghost of Ashwin before burrowing her face in the neck of her roan stallion and weeping.

Tolvar could think of few other scenes he had witnessed that were as tragic.

Backtracking seemed to take less time, and in days, they reached the borders of South, the small town that Elanna had kept Tolvar from earlier.

They waited until nightfall to determine whether or not it was safe to enter, and Tolvar felt inept that he could not make that call.

Instead, he waited with everyone else while Elanna searched the stars for the evening’s future before indicating there would be an inn to sleep in for the night.

Tolvar and Hux braced an exhausted Elanna as they strode to the inn after they’d hobbled their horses to the town stables for the evening.

The dirt road was quiet and peaceful. This town was well off the beaten path along the foothills of the Ena Mountains.

If one ventured up the road behind the town, they’d find a few silver and cynth mines.

When they entered the inn, a basic yet clean establishment, the scent of ale greeted Tolvar like a friend returned from a long crusade.

“I shall stay with you,” Hux said casually.

Tolvar shrugged Hux’s hand off his shoulder. “You can do what you like, it makes no difference to me, but if you think to dissuade me from spending the evening here”—he sat on an empty stool at a high tabletop—“you are mistaken.”

Hux eyed Elanna, who was being assisted to sleeping quarters by Joss and Barrett.

“You have been sober for moons. What would Sloane say?”

“Nothing, Hux.” Tolvar nodded to the barkeep to bring a pint. “She’s dead.”

“Oh, I see. The Wolf is having a celebration of misfortunes. Very well, then. I am great company where that is concerned.” He sat across from Tolvar and motioned to the barkeep to bring another drink.

For a moment, Tolvar envisioned grabbing Hux by the ears and slamming his face into the table. A half-smile donned his face.

“Two pints, sir,” the barkeep said, sliding the mugs onto the table, spilling some of the contents of Tolvar’s.

Hux raised his drink. “What shall we drink to?”

Tolvar sniffed the ale. The hoppy scent made him salivate. “I am simply drinking.”

He lifted his pint .

“Wait,” Hux said. “Why?” He nodded toward Tolvar’s mug.

“The other night, I understand your desire to drown yourself in liquor, and I understand the significance of the loss of Ashwin. But if you do this now for naught but the sake of it, then what?” Hux set his pint on the table, leaned back, and folded his arms.

Tolvar glanced into his mug, the head of the ale white and frothy. He should tell Hux to douse out. Instead, he thought of the stars’ long-ago words. Forbearance.

He hated it, but Hux was right. Then what?

Then he had a thought; his continued abstention of liquor was just the beginning. In his youth, even with the knowledge he’d someday inherit the title of earl, once Tolvar had been knighted, he was a knight. His greatest desire had always been to be remembered as the Wolf.

And for what shall the Wolf be remembered?

He slid the pint away from himself, not meeting Hux’s eyes.

“Oi!” A voice across the room called. A large man with a round middle walked toward them, his finger pointed at Tolvar.

Stars. Mayhap Elanna was wrong. Mayhap South had received a WANTED banner.

Tolvar swung his boot up so he could draw out the dagger within.

“Beg your pardon, sir.” The man’s face screwed up in delighted puzzlement. “Are you the Wolf?”

Hux, who also held a concealed dagger, snickered. “Aye, my good sir. You are in the presence of greatness, indeed.”

“Douse out, Hux.”

“And the Wolf was just telling me how much he longed to share some stories.”

The man’s face lit up. “Oi! That so?” He turned to his companions. “Barny, Quim, Trauts, look what we have here. The Wolf, himself!”

The three men dashed toward the table, dragging stools behind them, and excitedly spoke over one another.

“I hate you,” Tolvar said quietly .

“Better me than yourself.” Hux chuckled, clasping his hands behind his head in a stretch.

Tolvar shook his head and ordered a tea.

Tolvar rarely told tales, but he had to admit that passing the evening that way, rather than drowning himself in his sorrows, certainly hadn’t made him hate himself in the morning.

Before entering the dining hall, Tolvar leaned on the wall, observing the others break their fast together.

Their appearance was worse for the wear than it had been moons ago, everyone’s clothes and hair disheveled, scars and bruises visible, and weapons not so polished.

Yet everyone chattered together like a family of sorts; no more did his knights gawk and shy from Elanna.

No more did he feel suspicious of Hux. It reminded Tolvar of the gaggle of misfits he’d last been with: Sloane, Ghlee, Hux, Brinley, Alvie?—

“Alvie,” Tolvar whispered.

He pictured the unusual club the leader of the Brones had carried—and used on Tolvar; simply recalling it made his head throb—until Tolvar eventually killed him and took it as a spoil.

’Twas not wood; that much had been certain when Tolvar fought the man.

But he had ne’er given much thought about its material.

With no need for it—knights carried swords, after all—Tolvar had given it to Alvie, who’d seized it with glee and treated it as though it were a prized weapon made for a sovereign.

Later, they’d discovered that, in fact, the club had indeed been worthy of a sovereign. A sovereign’s fortune, actually.

“Stars almighty.” Tolvar had completely forgotten about Alvie’s club until this moment.

He entered the dining hall. Joss and Barrett slid away from each other, undoubtedly hoping to go unnoticed. Tolvar ignored them.

“We’re honored you’ve finally graced us with your presence.” Hux snorted then sobered. “What is it?”

“Alvie’s club,” Tolvar said .

Hux narrowed his eyes before they came alight. He clapped his hands together and stood. “Alvie’s club.”

Everyone gave a slack expression.

“What does that mean? What is Alvie’s club?” Joss asked.

“Starstone.”

They wasted no time, something that, more and more, Elanna reiterated, they had very little of.

“Our fortune’s path is racing to meet us,” she said.

Tolvar sent a South raven to Seabeckon to sail a message to Ghlee and Alvie in Deogol.

Bring the club! He wrote twice.

Along with the WANTED banner, he sent only the essential details lest the message fall into someone else’s hands.

He elaborated on the tragedy at Asalle—though was certain that particular news had already traveled—and on the growing armies and mixed frays.

And last, he wrote a cryptic message about their intentions with the Edan Stone.

Stars only knew if Ghlee would make sense of it, but he would make sense of Tolvar’s desperation. Bring the club!

Tolvar estimated it would be close to a fortnight to make the earliest rendezvous with them.

That was only if their group could make it into Lenfore and travel past the North Forest into Namid, the province bordering by the sea.

He’d detailed three meeting places in the hopes that they could sync together sooner rather than later.

Elanna favored the plan but stated that if she Saw any discovery of her StarSeer sisters, they may have to change course. Tolvar hated the idea of possibly changing their plan of action but reluctantly agreed.

He did not like the way Elanna was beginning to look. Hux mentioned it, too. Withered was the only way to describe it.

“I think ’tis because she cannot feel the ties to her other sisters,” Hux said, giving her a concerned side glance.

Elanna had contacted Tara through a method she’d called StarSpeak, a remarkable and helpful form of communication—much faster than a raven.

So far, the gates to the city had remained closed and guarded.

Citizens had been subdued for now, and many nightly vigils were being held for the sovereign’s survival.

Goodsell was mending, and Tara and Queen Ferika spent most days together at Rian’s bedside.

So far, they had managed not to cross paths with any armies seeking trouble or hunting the Wolf. Most Grendenian villages they rested in were impoverished and unconcerned with the realm outside their borders.

One evening, they trotted into a larger village.

“What village is this?” Barrett asked. “I do not remember seeing a village here on our map.” He withdrew his map of Grenden they’d been using as a guide. This countryside was unfamiliar to them all.

Joss dismounted and headed to ask a passing woman carrying a pail. Tolvar scanned the village. ’Twas bigger than the others they’d stopped at, but it certainly did not have an air of prosperity.

“’Tis called Renstown,” Joss said when she rejoined the others. “And there’s no inn here.”

Elanna gave a crisp nod. “We will not need one.”

“M’lady?”

“Let us ask where we can find Buchton.”

Everyone gave puzzled expressions, but by now, no one was surprised when the StarSeer made a random statement or changed their plans.

“By all means,” Tolvar said.

Sure enough, they were given directions, and they started down the pathway the woman had directed them.

The ground rumbled with the thunder of hooves.

Tolvar needed not his knight’s training to know the sound. “Make haste! ’Tis an army!” he shouted before maneuvering Valko in the opposite direction and almost charging straight into the woman who had given directions.”

“What in the stars are you doin’?” she shouted .

Tolvar tossed a pouch of silver coins down to her. “You ne’er saw us.”

He raced back to the others, who, to his amazement, were being guided into a large wooden shed of sorts by a stout elderly man.

“Hurry,” he shouted as he shooed them, horses and all, into the shed.

Tolvar halted Valko and led him into the crowded shelter with the others. The door shut them all into darkness.