The pain in his shoulder caused Ilgrin to gasp before granting him a moment in recollection over what’d happened. He wondered how long he’d been unconscious and how deep the blade had penetrated. He remembered his parents' empty expressions and the blood on the floor. Ilgrin gagged but suppressed the urge to vomit, instead shaking violently from the emotional trauma. It was dark and he wasn’t far from home. He could resurrect them . . . if only he could find a way to stand up. Branches scratched Ilgrin’s face, reminding him of his position, sheltered beneath the shrubbery.
At the sound of a rumbling snort, Ilgrin turned to discover an old white horse with a large brown spot on its back. The animal stared at him over a rickety fence as though it was surprised to see him.
‘Best you being careful,’ a scratchy voice whispered from the other direction. Ilgrin snapped toward the sound so quickly that something popped in his neck. ‘They looked for you for so very many times.’ The voice spoke with a note of concern.
Ilgrin peered through the dark and found no one but a little bird whose golden eyes caught and reflected the moonlight. ‘Was that you?’
‘I is Seeol,’ the figure approached and rubbed his beak across Ilgrin’s arm for a moment. ‘I saw when you landed you was going to sleepy times and waited for you to be awaken up. You have wings. Do you become a monster, too?’
‘A monster . . . no.’ Ilgrin pushed aside the branches and sat up. ‘I’m delirious.’
‘You’re not delirious, dearie,’ a deep but decidedly feminine voice reassured him from behind the fence. ‘He’s been talking all night,’ the horse finished as Ilgrin turned to face her.
Resting the back of his hand to his forehead, Ilgrin took a moment to gauge whether his temperature was above ordinary. Perhaps he’d developed a fever. ‘Did that horse talk just now?’ He enquired of the little bird, whilst acknowledging the absurdity of his decision to do so.
‘Yes, cutie,’ the bird bobbed his head energetically. ‘She talks, too. We is all animals who is talking.’
‘Did you just call me cutie?’
‘Cutie!’ Seeol squealed delightedly.
‘Be quiet,’ hissed the horse. ‘You’ll get us killed.’
‘Do you . . . know each other?’ Ilgrin questioned.
‘No,’ the horse replied. ‘We met when you collapsed.’
‘But you can both talk,’ Ilgrin whispered incredulously.
‘And I’m sure we both have marvellous stories as to how that’s possible, but right now we have more pressing matters requiring our attendance,’ the horse said with finality. ‘If those people find you, they’ll kill you. Maker only knows I’d have once done the same.’
‘You’re a horse!’
‘I wasn’t always a horse,’ Emquin said tenuously.
‘I’m not always an elf owl,’ Seeol said regretfully.
‘You were human, too?’ Ilgrin asked.
‘No,’ Seeol replied. ‘I’m not a big human.’
‘What’s your name anyway?’ the horse enquired.
‘Ilgrin.’
‘Emquin.’ She momentarily bowed her head. ‘We’re going to have to work together to get out of here alive. You’re too weak to get very far on your own and I’m offering you a ride if you can get me out of here.’
‘Why?’ Ilgrin asked suspiciously. ‘Shouldn’t you hate me?’
‘I’m too old to hate anyone, boy,’ Emquin snorted condescendingly. ‘Besides, I’m from Shinteleran. In the borderlands, we don’t cling to such naïve ideas about silts as the northerners do. Your kind are a daily occurrence and we’ve long come to realise the situation is not so black and white as many would have you believe.’
‘Shinteleran?’ Ilgrin exclaimed. ‘How did you end up in Sitnic?’
‘It’s a long story.’ Emquin stomped her hoof. ‘My current circumstances have me playing the role of a pet on a daily basis and I’m not sure how much longer I can keep it up.
‘You mean . . . ?’ Ilgrin trailed off.
‘They don’t know I was human.’
‘You wouldn’t tell them?’
‘I’ve tried that before.’ Emquin shook her head in dismay. ‘It never goes well. Last time I wound up as an attraction in a travelling circus.’
‘That must’ve been awful,’ Ilgrin sympathised. ‘Well, I’d be happy to help you out. Where’s the gate?’
‘It’s a little farther along the fence, but it’s locked. Try the tool shed,’ Emquin encouraged. ‘You should be able to find something to break the lock. It’s old and shouldn’t give too much resistance.’
Ilgrin stumbled as he tried to stand, a wave of nausea crawling through his intestines. ‘Are you all right?’ Emquin enquired worriedly.
‘Yes,’ Seeol replied. The others ignored him.
‘I think so,’ Ilgrin shook his head and stood. ‘I’m a bit dizzy, but should be okay.’
‘Just take your time,’ Emquin encouraged. ‘The night is young. There’s no rush.’
Ilgrin took a nervous step into the night, his breath held when he noticed men with torches pacing up and down the road, no doubt looking for him.
‘You sure about this?’ Ilgrin murmured. ‘I can’t see a thing.’
‘What is shed?’ Seeol piped in. ‘A little house?’
‘Yes, I suppose,’ Emquin replied dismissively.
‘Beside a big house?’
‘You can see it through the dark?’ Ilgrin asked.
‘What is dark?’ Seeol said back. ‘I see everything.’
‘Really?’ Ilgrin said, coming up with an idea. ‘Will you help me find something to set Emquin free?’
‘You need my help?’ Seeol asked excitedly, before buzzing through the air and landing atop Ilgrin’s head. ‘I want to be your friend. Let’s help do things together!’
‘Okay,’ Ilgrin whispered. ‘But you must remember to be quiet.’
‘Shhhhhhh,’ Seeol made a shushing sound. ‘Quiet times.’
‘Come on, Seeol.’ Ilgrin removed the bird from his head and placed him to perch on a finger. ‘Guide me to the shed.’
‘Yes. I can see the little house. Be sneaky, though. There are naughty men on the street.’
‘Can we make it without being noticed?’
‘I do hope so,’ Seeol replied. ‘They don’t have such good eyeballs.’
‘Right,’ Ilgrin murmured. ‘Here goes.’ Staying as low as possible, he hurried across the lawn, past the front of the house and over to the little shed. He threw himself against it and ducked into the shadows. ‘Did anyone see?’ He gasped for breath, realising abruptly he’d been holding it the whole time.
‘I saw,’ Seeol replied.
‘Anyone else!?’
‘No . . . no, I don’t think so,’ Seeol shook his head, the human gesture appearing strangely foreign to an owl. Ilgrin wondered who’d been responsible for training it such unusual tricks. ‘There is a door to go iside.’
Ilgrin slid his hand along the wooden surface until he felt cool steel. He turned the handle and pulled. A soft thump spiralled into the night and Ilgrin waited in frozen anticipation. He slid into the shed, making sure to leave the door ajar. ‘What do you see?’ he whispered.
‘Sharp stuff.’ Seeol’s rather limited capacities in speech were making things difficult.
‘Can you see anything that might be strong enough to break a lock?’
‘What’s a lock?’
‘Okay.’ Ilgrin tapped his lip thoughtfully. ‘Can you see any giant scissors . . . or a really large knife?’
‘I know what scissors are,’ Seeol replied. ‘El-i-miish has some.’
‘Right.’ Ilgrin scratched his head, not having the faintest idea of who or what an 'El-i-miish' was. ‘Well, can you see any?’
‘Yes!’ Seeol cried victoriously, before quickly reprimanding himself with a quiet shushing sound. ‘Put your hand high. Higher.’
‘Here?’ Ilgrin asked, feeling along a shelf above his head.
‘More left,’ Seeol said.
&nb
sp; ‘Got it,’ Ilgrin whispered, clasping the smooth handles of a bolt-cutter. ‘Let’s go.’
‘Let’s save Emquin.’ The owl fluttered up and danced atop Ilgrin’s shoulder. ‘Yay!’
‘Emquin,’ Ilgrin hissed as he ducked down beside the fence.
‘Did you find anything?’
‘Bolt cutters.’
‘Perfect,’ the horse said with obvious relief. ‘Quickly now. It’s over here.’ The horse lead Ilgrin back from the house until they came to a small gate.
‘I have to go home,’ Ilgrin whispered. ‘I’ll let you out, but I have to see if I can do anything for my parents.’
‘What happened to your parents?’
‘They--’ the words caught in his throat. ‘They were killed.’
‘Just how many silts are there around here?’
‘Not silts.’ Ilgrin frowned. ‘My human parents.’
‘I see.’ A look of understanding crossed the horse's face. ‘But if they’re dead, there’s really nothing you can do.’ She narrowed her eyes accusingly.
‘There is,’ Ilgrin insisted. ‘They’re my parents. I have to do it.’
‘Even if you did seek to perform so vile an act,’ Emquin said warningly, ‘it’s already far too late.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ilgrin asked wearily.
‘Even silts have their limitations,’ Emquin said candidly. ‘Your parents must’ve died hours ago. They’ll be far too dead for what you’re intending.’
‘I have to try,’ Ilgrin said pleadingly.
‘Then you’re a fool and you’ll be killed,’ the horse reprimanded him. ‘Don’t you think they have men waiting at your house? Don’t you think they’ll be expecting your return? Your parents are too dead to be saved. You have to leave it be, or else die trying to do the impossible.’
Ilgrin slumped. ‘You’re right.’ His voice revealed the deflation he felt. He wasn’t even sure he’d have been willing to bring them back if he could, such was the conflict within him. Ilgrin hefted the bolt cutters and with an echoing crack the lock fell away and the gate squeaked open.
‘You there,’ a voice called from the street. ‘Show yourself!’
‘And that would be our cue to leave,’ Emquin murmured apprehensively. ‘Quick, hop on.’ With no need for further prompting, Ilgrin leapt onto the horse’s back.
Seeol’s sharp claws dug into Ilgrin’s arm as Emquin galloped onto the road.
‘Stop!’ The man shouted after them. ‘Silt,’ he cried, having noticed Ilgrin’s wings. ‘Stop or I’ll shoot,’ the voice warned, waiting no more than a second before firing an arrow that swished right by Ilgrin’s head.
‘Hurry,’ he called.
‘What do you think I’m doing?’ Emquin snapped as she abandoned the roadside and galloped into the open plains. Despite valiant efforts on the part of their pursuers, human legs were no match for the speed of a frightened horse and before long they fell away into the distance.
CHAPTER TEN
A THIEF IN THE NIGHT