The Wild Dead (The Bannerless Saga 2)

“No need, it’s probably nothing,” she said.

“You said it yourself—if there’s a killer in the area, maybe we shouldn’t go off alone.”

“There’s that,” she said, sighing. The shrouded bundle still lay stowed—undisturbed—under the work house. From a distance, it wouldn’t look like anything at all. An odd bundle of storage, nothing ominous.

They set off toward the source of the racket.

“Will they hold the pyre for her today?” Teeg asked.

“Likely,” Enid answered. “We’ll need to find out where they usually do these things, and carry her there.” She guessed they held pyres up the hill, closer to the timber, in drier territory where keeping a fire going would be easier. That was going to be a long walk, carrying the body.

The shadows were long, the light glassy. They trekked across the bridge, stopped, and circled, looking out in all directions, and still couldn’t make out where the noise came from; it echoed, and the marsh seemed to channel sounds oddly.

“It’s up the road, you think?” Enid asked, looking up to the next household. The noise continued, rhythmic and determined.

This was only their second day here, and Enid was already tired of hiking this way. They reached Pine Grove, where everything seemed normal. One of the young women of the household was milking goats in a rough-hewn pen outside, in the shade of a barn. Hearing the footsteps, she looked up, her eyes widening at the sight of the uniforms. Quickly, she shoved away the goat she was milking and stood, brushing her hands on her trousers. The animal bleated loudly and trotted off.

“Hola,” Enid said.

“You here about the body? The murdered girl? No one here knows anything, I don’t think. None of us knew anything about it—”

Enid was already shaking her head. “No, we’re not here

for that. You know what’s making that noise?” The banging had gotten louder; they were clearly getting closer.

“Oh,” she said, relieved. “They’re probably doing something up at Semperfi,” she answered, matter of fact. Like there was often something up at Semperfi involving loud noises.

“Right. Thanks.”

“Should have known,” Teeg said as they continued on.

And yes, the sound was coming from the next household. A hammer, if Enid had to guess. A big one.

“What is it?” Teeg asked wonderingly. “Erik can’t still be trying to put a new roof on that old thing?”

Soon enough they came within sight of the ruined house. The sound of barking broke through the continual pounding. Bear the dog raced at them, tail wagging, bouncing, as he charged down the dirt path. Teeg lowered his staff, but Bear didn’t seem to notice and whirled around to run back to the house, then back to them. He made the circuit a couple more times, tongue hanging out of his mouth. Bear was here, so Erik couldn’t be too far away. The noise was coming from down in the gulch. She gestured to Teeg, and they continued around, to the edge of the riverbank.

And there was Erik, at the bottom of the muddy slope, slamming away at one of the struts supporting the house—not with a hammer, but with a large ax. Big, angry, impressive swings. He’d taken off his tunic and his back was shining with sweat, his hair soaked flat against his head. She was impressed that even being so angry, even putting all his strength into the blows, he never missed. The strut, which might have been a whole tree trunk in another life, was splintering, pale chips flying off the weathered, varnished surface. He’d done this to a number of the struts, damaging them but not destroying any. The dog was barking at him, as if pleading with him to stop.

“Erik?” she called. He didn’t hear her, or maybe was ignoring her. She cupped her hands around her mouth and shouted. “Erik!”

Startled, he spun to face them, gasping for breath.

She said, “Erik. You’re chopping at a support while standing under the weight that it’s supporting.”

He looked up at the porch of the house over his head, snarled a curse. Enid wasn’t sure if he was directing his anger at her, or the house. Didn’t really matter. He hefted the ax in both hands, as if ready to strike again, but instead growled at the post one last time and marched up the hill to meet her. A shock rattled her—the way he held the ax was the way you’d hold it as a weapon. Was he really going to attack them? Teeg held his staff at the ready, waiting.

Enid tried to gauge his intentions. “What’re you doing?”

He stopped, looked at the ax in his hands as if surprised to find it there. Glared back at the investigators, and for a moment Enid believed that yes, the man really did hate them.

Finally, he let the ax hang in one hand and heaved a sigh, caught a breath. “This must look pretty crazy.”

“I don’t know,” Enid said. “I’m waiting for you to tell me what this is about. Then I’ll decide if it’s crazy.”

Shrugging, he looked back at the ruin, sweeping his arm as if to encompass it. “If I can’t save it, there’s no sense keeping it. Might as well bring the whole thing down. That’s what everyone wants.”

“Some things take care of themselves,” Teeg said.