It wasn't long before the forest was so thick that Faiban had to walk ahead of Ashyn and let the other guard follow her. Although they could still hear Tova's howling, the path was nearly gone. That's when one of the rear guards took out the spool of red ribbon and tied the end to a tree.
Without a ribbon, it would be nearly impossible to find the way out. Until now, Ashyn hadn't fully understood that. It always had seemed odd that so few of the damned ever managed to find their way back to the village. Now, surrounded by endless trees, she understood.
Most exiles never traveled far from the marked place where they were always left. That made Ashyn's job easier. It would take all day to reach that spot, though, even with guards at the fore, hacking through saplings and vines.
While they wouldn't want a road to lead exiles out, it made little sense to cut an entirely new path each spring. They all knew that. So, too, had the first governor of Edgewood. The tale of the path was one of Moria's favorites, and Ashyn could hear her voice telling it as she walked.
The governor had sent extra guards on a Seeking to prepare the path properly. They'd made it wider and laid out the discarded branches and vines to keep down new growth. That way, the path would last for many summers. But by the time the Seeking party headed out the next spring, the forest had swallowed the makeshift lane entirely.
The governor had not been a man accustomed to having his will thwarted, even by nature. So he'd asked his warlord to provide men to clear a path as wide as a road. The village guards watched from the tower as the passage was cut until the party could no longer be seen. The next day, one of the men came racing back along that path, gibbering nonsense.
Certain the man had swamp fever, the governor quarantined him and sent a search party after the others. But the man soon recovered and told his tale. They had been working on the road, and he'd been sent back to camp for water. When he'd returned, he'd looked ahead to see the men hacking through the forest. Then, without even a change in expression, they'd turned and begun hacking one another, as calmly and diligently as if they were still chopping trees and vines.
The man had run to his fellow workers, screaming for them to stop. They hadn't uttered a sound, just kept chopping at one another, stone-faced.
Eventually the search party returned to report the scene exactly as the survivor had described it. The governor declared it had been a mass outbreak of swamp fever. However, in light of the tragedy, there would be no more attempts to create a permanent road. And so the forest swallowed their work, leaving only the initial stretch.
Ashyn looked out ahead, thinking of that worker and what he'd witnessed. She started to shiver.
"Are you cold, my lady?" Faiban asked.
She managed a smile for him. "Unsettled."
"The forest does that," he said, nodding sagely, though she knew he'd never passed the second tower himself. "Shall I tell you a tale?"
"Can you make it a happy one?"
He smiled, his plain face lighting up. "Of course. I am not your sister. Let me tell you a story of a fair maiden of the North, who tamed a snow dragon. . . ."
At noon, the Seeking party ate, and sent the signal. A few had whispered uneasily when the governor fired the green flare, which meant all was well. The bard had not yet rejoined the party.
At least Tova was fine. Ashyn would know if he wasn't. The hound must have gotten back to Edgewood, and the bard would come panting and wheezing down the path at any moment.
When they finished the noon meal and the bard still hadn't arrived, she did start to worry. But what could happen? Yes, there were vengeful spirits. Yes, there was swamp fever. But it took days for spirits to drive a person mad. And one could only contract swamp fever by drinking contaminated water or being bitten by the infected. The Seeking party had brought its own water, and any infected exiles would have died over the winter. The bard would come soon enough, and if he didn't, then he must have returned with Tova and stayed in the village.
Five
By late afternoon, the Seeking party reached the marked site where exiles were abandoned . . . after their guards had led them there on a circuitous route so they'd think they were farther in. The guards left the exiles under the largest tree in the forest, but the Seeking party could not see it from the ground, and had to send a scout to scale trees as they walked.
While the village volunteers stayed to make temporary camp, the governor waved for Ashyn and the guards to follow him. It was time for the Seeker to begin her work.
With every step, Ashyn's heart beat harder. Tova ought to be here. No matter what the governor said, the Hound of the Immortals was supposed to help the Seeker find
the bodies. Now she was on her first Seeking, without her hound, and if she failed . . .
I won't fail. I must not.
When the governor stopped walking, Ashyn continued past him. Twigs cracked behind her, and she turned to see Faiban following, sword in hand. She smiled at him, and he hurried to get in front of her, murmuring, "Just tell me where you want to go, my lady."
She pointed with another smile and he tripped over his feet to cut her a swath deeper into the forest. Ashyn followed slowly, letting her mind shift to the second world. Since entering the forest, she'd heard no whispers. The spirits of the ancestors stayed out. This was the domain of the damned.
She was here to help them find peace. It sounded like an act of mercy. It was not. The unsettled dead who roamed the forest were dark, demented forces bent on blind revenge against every living thing. They drove the exiles mad, and they made the forest uninhabitable for man and beast. By giving them peace, the Seeker kept their number at bay.
When Ashyn was far enough from the others, she asked Faiban to retreat a little. Once he'd backed down the path, she lowered herself to the ground. The earth was damp beneath her fingers, and she could feel the chill of it seep through her breeches. The air down here smelled fetid as the breeze blew off a nearby bog.
Ignore that. Concentrate.
Ashyn closed her eyes and reached out to the spirits. After a moment, she could feel them pulling at the edge of her consciousness. It wasn't like the gentle plucks of the ancestral spirits; these were harsh, like needle jabs.