needed. It was a map of the country, less detailed and elaborate than the one from Biele?’s lecture. No nicely drawn dragons or fancy lettering here. Lukasz considered it for a minute.
He’d ridden north from Miasto, following the half-constructed railway, asking directions from the crews along the way. It must have been a sight for the ages: a Wolf-Lord on an antlered warhorse, cantering alongside the lumbering engines, yelling at the bewildered operator over the noise.
After that, he’d stayed out of the forest for as long as he could. The borders of Kamieńa had been expanding for almost twenty years. Not out of any human intention, but because the forest seemed to be spreading, and with every mile closer he drew, the towns grew emptier. Finally in view of the first trees, he’d spent the night in an abandoned village on its borders. Unseen evils had chattered in the trees and the stars had seemed particularly dark that night, so dark that Lukasz had brought Król indoors and slept in a modest little kitchen, rifle pointed toward the door.
The next morning, he’d entered the forest.
There’d been no one to stop him. Even if Kamieńa wasn’t exactly forgotten these days, it was at least ignored. Besides, Welona was an unusual country in that most of its internal borders were unofficial. Ruled centrally from Miasto by King Nikodem and his parliament, Welona was also separated into smaller constituent provinces. Often referred to as kingdoms, these provinces were governed by minor kings—usually the descendants of the great war chieftains of medieval days when the country was constantly at war with itself.
Once upon a time, Hala Smoków had been the country’s last truly independent city.
“All right,” said Lukasz at last, and Król’s other ear swiveled toward him. “East. We’ll be in the village by sunset.”
If it was still there at all.
Franciszek’s map had been drawn based on a seventeen-year-old memory. And the last time Lukasz had been in this forest, he’d been four years old, fleeing down from the Mountains with nine older brothers. He barely remembered any of it.
He and Król started moving again, and still feeling uneasy, Lukasz stowed the notebook once more in his pocket and unslung the rifle from the back of the saddle. Even if he wasn’t as good with a sword anymore, he wasn’t completely defenseless.
They broke into a small clearing. He had a glimpse of a river before Król whinnied and reared up on his hind legs. Lukasz narrowly avoided being impaled on the silver antlers.
“Damn it, Król,” he growled, dragging back on the reins with his good hand. “What is it?”
Król shrieked and reared again.
“Król—” He slipped off the horse’s back. He grabbed the bridle, tugging the horse down to him. Król’s eyes were rimmed in white, his nostrils flaring. “Król, calm down. There’s nothing here—”
Lukasz turned toward the river. He froze. There was something there.
No. Not something. Someone.
It was a girl. She was almost completely submerged, only her eyes and the top of her head visible over the calm water. Her dark hair was plastered to her skull, and its ends floated on the surface in dark coils. She was utterly silent, staring back.
Her eyes were green.
“Hey,” he called across the water. “Are you okay?”
She blinked. Her lashes, long and black, disturbed the surface. When they came up, Lukasz could see every bead of water on them.
“Are you okay?” he asked again. “Can I help you?”
Without thinking, he turned to Król and unfastened a length of rope from the saddle. When he turned back to the river, the girl was almost at the water’s edge. He jumped back.
“Damn,” he gasped.
She’d moved so swiftly, so silently. And strangely, the water had remained still as glass.
Lukasz could feel monsters in his bones the same way other people could feel the weather, and this was all wrong. Between the still water and the hypnotic lilt of her hair on its surface, everything in him was screaming.
Run.
Her eyes fell to the rope in his hand. Then they flickered back up to his face. The only motion was in her hair, glimmering on the surface with a life of its own. Lukasz knew his monsters, and she burned with enchantment.
And yet here he was . . .
Her eyes were so green.
“It’s okay,” he said. He lowered the rope to the ground. Then he straightened, holding up both hands, palms out. “I won’t hurt you.”
Her eyes slid to his hands.
He swallowed. The right was brown, with long fingers and scars across