They followed the road into the forest. Everything was quiet, except the wind, which had kicked up a couple of hours ago. Should they be preparing for a spring storm? A glance at the sky revealed only wispy, distant clouds. Malcolm caught up to Moli. She was wearing her dark green forester’s tunic and brown pants, the badge of her office pinned to her cloak. She scanned the ground around them, occasionally glancing up at the trees.
“Should we move more slowly?” Malcolm asked her. He didn’t think she could possibly be noticing everything she needed to notice at the pace she was setting.
“I do not tell you how to break up drunken brawls, Constable. Trust that I know what I am about.”
“Of course, Madame. I merely wish to help.”
“Then remain silent so I can listen to the birds.”
Adequately chastened, Malcolm fell silent. Though there did not seem to be as many bird sounds as he would have expected. Was that a sign of something? He wanted to ask Moli but was afraid to distract her again.
She slowed once they were properly embraced by the tree line. The forest road here was mainly used by the foresters and the occasional hunter. The people of Stonefall were not encouraged to spend time in the forest, and most heeded the warning.
Moli stuck a finger into the wind, then inhaled deeply. “This way,” she said, stalking off into the forest at her previous pace and trusting the men to keep up with her. Malcolm glanced at Dr. Atwater, who had his eyes closed, as if concentrating on something. What that could possibly be, Malcolm didn’t know. Was the man in pain?
It seemed strange to Malcolm that they had yet to encounter any animal life, not so much as a scurrying squirrel. But perhaps the size of their expedition had frightened off the wildlife.
Birds screeched overhead, a swarm of starlings. It was the loudest noise any of them had heard since entering the forest. As they progressed deeper, a coppery scent came to them on the wind. Moli screwed up her face, pausing once more to listen, and kneeling at the side of the road. What she noticed, Malcolm had no idea, but she seemed confident when she followed that branching of the path.
The scent of blood grew stronger here along this narrower road. Malcolm’s stomach twisted. He began to consider that the two lost ones may not have merely misplaced their horse. Something terrible might have happened. Had they been attacked by a wolf? Would he have to deliver the most awful news he could imagine to Delia Kovacs?
They came to a wide spot in the road, and Moli stopped to kneel there. With her walking stick, she prodded at a pile of bloody linen that lay among the scraggly grasses. Malcolm joined her. The fabric was dark brown from almost dried blood, and it looked like it had once been the sleeve of a tunic, but it contained no arm and bore no symbol of who had worn it; though Malcolm reasoned it was about Laban Kovacs’s size.
“Is it his?” Malcolm asked Moli. She didn’t touch the bloody cloth, but with her stick brought it close to her face and inhaled the scent.
“The blood is several hours old,” Moli announced. “It has not yet dried nor completely congealed, so it was soaked recently.”
“So, today,” Malcolm said.
Moli nodded.
Without Malcolm noticing, Dr. Atwater had dismounted from his horse. He didn’t ask for permission as he took the cloth from Moli, and inhaled the scent, just as she had done. The blood was dry enough that it didn’t drip as he took it.
“I believe this is Laban’s,” Dr. Atwater said. “He could have discarded it, though that seems unlikely.” He cast a weary look toward Malcolm, as if his worst fears were coming into being. As bad as it would be to find that something happened to Laban, discovering the savaged body of his daughter would be worse. Katie was only twelve years old, if Malcolm was remembering properly. He hadn’t had many dealings with her, but she had always seemed to him a well-behaved, quiet child, devoted to her parents as well as her little brothers. Malcolm’s heart started to beat furiously.
Moli stepped off the road and into the brush.
“Is it strange that there are no animals besides birds here?” Malcolm asked because it seemed important.
“The creatures of the forest shy away from mankind, but you’re right that the forest is strangely empty,” Moli said. “Something might have scared the wildlife away. Something besides us, I mean.”
“That was my suspicion as well,” Malcolm said.
If Moli was worried, she gave no sign of it. She ran her hands through a shoulder-length mane of messy grey hair, squinting into the darkness between the trees.
Soon they came to a boot. It was unmistakably a man’s boot, of a similar style to the boots Moli herself was wearing. Malcolm stopped her before she could pick it up.
Protruding from its leg was a piece of bone surrounded by bloody, ragged flesh.
“Oh, Dammit,” Dr. Atwater said, everything he was dreading now confirmed.
“It could be someone else,” Malcolm offered, trying to keep the man from letting go of hope.
“That is Laban’s boot, Constable,” Dr. Atwater said. “I’m certain of it.”
“I’m sorry. Perhaps…”
“Even if he weren’t torn limb from limb by some creature, blood loss from such a wound would have killed him hours ago,” Dr. Atwater said.
Malcolm wanted to argue with that but knew it was useless. The physician surely knew what he was talking about.
“There is no sign of Katarina as of yet,” Moli offered.
Renfro was hanging back now, his knuckles white as he gripped Kostara’s reins. He seemed on the verge of falling over. Which was a reasonable reaction, all things considered.
Malcolm approached and gripped him by the shoulder. “Are you well?”
Renfro looked at Malcolm with wide eyes, then knelt and vomited between his shoes. Malcolm stepped back, narrowly missing being drenched by the sick.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” Renfro repeated, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Malcolm stepped beside him and patted his shoulder.
“There’s no need for that. It was a very human reaction. I wanted to do the same thing myself.”
Renfro gazed up at him gratefully, then took a moment to straighten and re-tie his hair back.
Dr. Atwater stood only a few paces away now. “I have some medicines in my pack if you need them. Something to settle your stomach.”
“It’s all right, doctor,” Renfro said. “I think I’m well enough now.”
Dr. Atwater peered at Renfro as if he didn’t quite believe him, then turned his attention back to the woods. Once again, he closed his eyes. Malcolm left Renfro standing beside Kostara, telling him, “Be wary. There may be a beast about.” Renfro responded to that by placing a hand on the short sword that hung at his belt.
Malcolm followed Moli deeper into the woods, scanning the tree line for signs of imminent attack. He thought the Kovacs might have encountered a wolf or perhaps some worse creature. Was there a threat to the town itself?
Moli stopped. In a pile of leaves was another body part. A hand, torn at the wrist. He didn’t bother picking it up. He was grateful to note that it was the hand of a grown man, as ghastly as that gratitude made him feel.
They pressed more deeply into the forest. Moli found a trail of blood, leading into the trees. Malcolm, alerted to it, followed its source alongside the forester. The flow had increased as whomever it belonged to had passed into the forest.
It might have been someone walking away with an injury, or it might have come from a recently slain corpse being dragged back to the lair of a beast. As they moved, they came to a line of trees, too close together to pass between easily. On one of the trees—a white oak if Malcolm wasn’t mistaken—a line of blood glistened on the bark. Malcolm stepped in front of Moli. As he moved closer to the tree, he heard the awkward steps of the physician catching up to them.
He approached the tree trunk and looked up. There, amidst the branches, was what looked like a brown and green bundle of cloth. Blood dripped from the cloth into his face. He wiped it away without complaint. There were enough low-hanging branches that, if he was careful, he could find purchase; so he slowly lifted himself into the tree, climbing up several branches until he found what he was looking for.
It wasn’t just a bundle of cloth. It was the girl, her skin pale from blood loss. A ragged gash torn through her chest. Malcolm was no physician, but it didn’t seem like the kind of wound she could have survived. As he made ready to deliver this news, the girl twitched and coughed, blood spewing from her mouth to splatter on Malcolm’s chest.
He gasped in surprise and relief.
“I’ve found her!” Malcolm called down. “She’s alive.”
“Praise Hernios,” Moli exclaimed, while Malcolm looked down to see Atwater standing at the base of the tree, looking up.
“Can you bring her down?” the physician asked.
“It might take some doing. Give me a moment.”
Atwater laid his cane on the ground and said, “If you can lower her, I can catch her.”
Malcolm stared at the physician for a long moment. “I think I can leap down with her.”
He sat on the branch beside where Katarina Kovacs had found shelter, and as gently as he could, took the girl in his arms. She was lightweight and pale. More blood leaked from her wound to soak through his tunic. He let his legs dangle for a moment, attaining a sure grip on the girl and sheltering her against his body. Then, he slipped free, landing neatly beside the physician, bending his legs to take the impact.
Dr. Atwater said nothing but knelt as Malcolm gently lowered the girl to the ground. The physician tore her tunic open the rest of the way, revealing a grisly tear in her flesh. Malcolm thought he could see her ribs poking through the broken skin. Unless Atwater was a miracle worker, there didn’t seem to be much hope for the girl.
* * *
Tristan placed his own body between Katie and the constable. Moli had the courtesy to remain a few paces away, though he saw her Constable Malcolm Kent weary looks. Katie’s wound was severe. It was astonishing she was still alive. He could feel her heart beating slowly beneath his hands. The trauma of being taken from the tree—as gently as Constable Kent had done it—had reopened a wound that had been pressed closed. Blood welled in her chest cavity, soaking his hands. She only had a moment of life left.
If Laban was dead, and it seemed certain he was, Tristan would at least bring Delia her daughter. Of course, he had to be discreet.
“Constable,” he said, pointing toward the horse. “Get the blanket off the horse.”
“Very well,” Constable Kent replied, then stepped away. This gave Tristan the freedom to do what he needed to do without being observed.
He placed his hands over Katie’s wound and let the power he had saved over the past few days flow through them, allowing his talents to piece back together the ragged edges of flesh that had been torn asunder. Katie shuddered beneath his touch. A good sign. He didn’t have enough available power to restore her completely, but he could keep her alive or at least keep her from dying in the next few moments.
As he worked his healing magic, Katie’s heartbeat quickened, then slowed again. By the time the constable returned with the blanket, she was breathing more steadily, and the blood had stopped flowing from her chest cavity. He wiped at the wound, revealing whole, though massively scarred, flesh.
He realized too late that Constable Kent had returned and was kneeling at his side.
“Doctor Atwater…” the constable began.
“She’ll live, if we get her back to town,” Tristan announced, trying to block the constable’s view of Katie’s restored flesh. The constable was staring at him, a dumbfounded look on his face, but if he had questions, he didn’t ask them.
“Her wound… I thought for certain…” the constable stammered.
“It might have looked worse to you than it was,” Tristan told the man. He wrapped Katie in the offered blanket and tried to keep hold of her while he stood up, but his traitorous leg gave out, and he ended up falling back to his knees.
“Allow me to help, Doctor Atwater,” the constable said. Then, without asking further permission, he took Katie from Tristan and let Tristan rise to his feet with the aid of his cane. He’d already taken a few steps back toward Kostara by the time Tristan had steadied himself. He cast a look back at Tristan, checking to see if he was following.
It was all Tristan could do to keep up with the constable. He helped him strap Katie to Kostara, as Moli and Renfro joined them. Moli had attached a few wrapped bundles to her pack, amounting to all that they’d found of Laban. Tristan chose to climb onto the horse behind Katie, so he could administer another healing spell if she looked like she needed it. It would also keep him away from the constable, who was looking at him with both wonder and suspicion. He had to find some way to convince the man that he hadn’t seen what he thought he’d seen. Tristan’s freedom depended on it.
The Lion and the Sparrow releases Nov 6, 2025. You can preorder it now here