They crossed the border back into the Baersladen mid-day but didn’t stop to rest along the rocky mountain inclines until they were well into the Baer valley. Bryn’s stomach was rumbling when they finally spotted a small village ahead.
“This is Elderwall,” Rangar said. “The dairy farmer here is a retired soldier who served with my father. They’ll shelter us while we rest the horses.”
Bryn felt comforted by the prospect of friendly faces, yet she got a strange premonition as they approached. The village was a small cluster of houses and shops, with the dairy barn as the largest structure, yet everything was completely silent.
Valenden peered up at the sun. “It’s mid-afternoon. Where is everyone?”
Bryn’s uneasiness grew as they came to the first house, where a wooden sign had hastily been erected. Rangar and Valenden stopped their horses, looking grimly at the sign.
“What does it say?” Bryn asked of the Baer words.
“It reads, ‘No Magic.’” Rangar’s voice rumbled with displeasure.
“No Magic?” Bryn’s face twisted into a frown. “But we’re in the Baersladen. We’re far from any kingdoms that outlaw magic.”
Rangar made a low sound in his throat. “I know. Wait here.”
He swung down from Legend and approached the house attached to the dairy barn. For a long while, no one answered his knock. But then the door opened a crack. Rangar exchanged words with whoever was inside, then sauntered back to Bryn and Valenden.
“My father’s old compatriot is away, but his son is here. He says we may come in to rest.” Rangar’s tone was troubled, however.
Bryn dismounted, and they made their way through the strangely quiet village. She spotted wooden signs on several shops and houses with the same Baer words:No Magic.
The dairy farmer’s grown son nervously waited for them at the door. “King Rangar, Prince Valenden, Princess Bryn. This is such an honor. My name is Jonnah. My father will be deeply sorry to have missed you, but we’d like to offer you all the comforts we can.” He whistled to two small twin girls peeking down from a loft. “Suri, Agna, fetch fresh water from the well.” He turned back to the travelers. “Please, sit.”
As they took their places, Bryn still felt a strange tension despite the farmer’s kind words of welcome. The two girls soon scampered back with water to clean their hands and faces, and a pitcher of milk and plate of scones. After thanking their host and making light conversation about the dairy herd, Rangar broached the subject.
“What is going on in the village, Jonnah?”
Jonnah looked tempted to profess confusion at what Rangar referred to, but then he glanced toward the door and sighed. “You’re referring to the signs.”
Rangar nodded.
Jonnah dragged a hand through his hair. “Two days ago, the cows stopped producing milk. That sometimes happens when they’re spooked, such as if a predator gets into the fence and attacks.”
Bryn’s spine went rigid. “You mean . . . one of the wolves attacked the cows?”
“No, and that’s the troubling thing,” Jonnah said. “All the cows are accounted for and unharmed, yet we found tracks much larger than ordinary wolves’ in the pasture. The wolveswerethere, but they left the cows untouched.” He paused. “Several of the village boys reported being chased by a vicious beast into a tree, however.”
“The berserkirs are here,” Bryn breathed, throwing a worried look at Rangar. It was the first report they’d heard of the berserkir wolves attacking a Baer village.
“And the villagers?” Rangar asked. “They are all unharmed?”
“Yes, no one was attacked. The boys’ fathers were able to chase off the wolf with arrows. But they got a good look at the wolf, which frightened them. They said it was no ordinary wolf, but a demon. There was a Ruma priest through here a few years ago who tried to preach that magic was sinful. He was mocked out of town at the time, but since the monstrous wolf’s appearance, some in the village have started to believe he was right. That the wolves are demons caused by magic.”
“That’s ludicrous,” Valenden snapped. “Even if they were made by magic, magic itself is not evilorgood. It’s merely a force, like the weather. It’s the caster who may be good or evil.”
Jonnah nodded. “It isn’t me you need to convince, Prince Valenden. We in this house have long valued magic—it’s kept us fed on many a long winter when the cows needed more warmth than our wood stores could provide. But people are scared. And when they get scared, they can be easily fooled into believing anything.”
After finishing the refreshments, they gave Jonnah some gold coins before continuing on the road. Bryn was more anxious than ever to return to Barendur Hold, where she could write a letter to Mars. But Rangar was correct in that it would take weeks to prove any Ruma plot—and in those weeks, the realm’s sentiment toward magic could shift rapidly.
They rode as fast as the horses could manage, stopping only briefly to let the horses drink at streams. Though most of the other small villages they passed seemed untroubled, a few others had the same “No Magic” signs posted. Rangar and Valenden appeared just as concerned as Bryn; their brows held the same deep wrinkles, marking them as brothers.
This will be Rangar’s first test as king, Bryn thought, though she did not doubt his ability to defend the kingdom. He was new to ruling, yes, but not to managing the Baersladen. He had been at his father’s side for all his twenty-two years, helping his people through famine, skirmishes, banditry, and blizzards. If anyone could solve this puzzle, it was the two of them together.
Rangar knows his people, and I know mine—and Baron Marmose.
As they crested the last hill before reaching the valley road to Barendur Hold, Bryn released an audible breath of relief. Soon, they’d be home and able to solve this crisis from the safety of stone walls—
