Eva’s heart pounded all the way into her fingertips. “Sjöberg?” she called out in a half-whisper. A gasp very close by made her head snap around. She ran toward the sound, stumbled over charred stubble, pushed through a dense thicket of grain and almost tripped over Lennar, who was kneeling, slumped, on the black earth. Next to him the bald pirate lay like an overturned mountain – motionless, but still breathing.
“Are you alright?” Eva asked, out of breath. Lennar grimaced and pointed to his shoulder. “Just sprained, I think.” She let out a relieved sigh. Just sprained. Nothing serious. He was alive. “The guy didn’t look that fit, so I underestimated him at first,” Lennar went on. “But then it was his turn to underestimate me – he thought this was a walking stick.” The Ventus staff did indeed have a rather harmless look about it as it lay there between the flattened stalks, its polished wood and the invisibly built-in impulse trigger giving it the appearance of an innocent rod. Eva let her shoulders drop, which she had unconsciously tensed up. “That’s a relief. Oh and – well done.”
He inclined his head. “Thank you, Grand Master.” She instantly straightened up. “No. That stops now.” “What?” he asked, puzzled. “The ‘Grand Master’ thing.” She frowned at him. “Out here those inflated titles are useless. So from now on you will kindly call me Eva.” Lennar opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if he first had to check whether she was serious. Then he nodded slowly. “It’ll take some getting used to, but alright – ‘Eva’. I’m Lennar.” “I’m aware,” she grinned, “I did swear you in, after all.” “True,” Lennar laughed, “but I can’t guarantee I won’t salute you out of reflex a few more times. Muscle memory and all that.” “Fair enough,” Eva said and pulled him to his feet. He pulled a pained face, but he stood.
Behind them, voices rang across the field. The pirates’ rearguard was closing in. Eva looked north, to where the smoke grew thinner and the dark lines of the Dreybergen forests cut into the rural landscape. “That way,” she said curtly. “The forest isn’t far. If we make it to the first villages beyond the fields, we’ll be safe.” “But nobody lives there anymore,” Lennar pointed out. “The village elder said the south of the island has been abandoned.” Eva shrugged. “The houses will still shelter us. We have to try. The fields are too dangerous. We don’t want the pirates getting the idea to start another fire.” Lennar nodded. “Then let’s not waste any time.” They cast one last glance at the unconscious man, then ran side by side through the grain, which parted before them like curtains and closed again behind them.
The path led them away from the burning fields into a landscape that, in the twilight of the sinking evening, looked like a depopulated kingdom. The sun was nothing more than a dull strip behind the hills, and its last light turned the plumes of smoke over the land into wandering ghosts. The wind now blew more steadily, not stormy, but still strong enough to drive the clouds across the darkening sky. Eva and Lennar walked in silence, side by side. For half an hour they had not heard any pirates behind them and were finally able to slow from a constant run to a brisk walking pace. The warmth of the day gave way to an autumn chill, and they pulled their cloaks tighter around them, the fabric still carrying the smell of burned earth. Dry gravel crunched under their boots, then gave way again to softer ground, cut through by deep ruts. Soon they reached the first village – or what was left of it. The houses stood deserted along the road, looking forlorn with their black window holes through which the evening wind whistled. Some thatched roofs had collapsed, others had burned down, and the remains of firefighting water trickled in a thin stream across the square. There was no one here.
Of the next village, little more than the foundations remained, above which only smoldering black debris lay. On a small meadow stood a few burned fruit trees, their dead branches reaching into the night, their once red fruit now charred pitch-black. They passed empty animal pens as well, a ghostly sight. “We should find shelter before nightfall,” Eva said.
But that wish was not to be granted, because they had no luck in the following settlements either. The entire region was deserted. By now the full moon crouched among the clouds and poured its pale light over the road, which wound like a silver thread ahead of them through the fields. The shadows between the ears of grain were jet-black and impenetrable. The roar of the wind swelled – or was it even still the wind? All at once there was something else in it, something that lurked beneath the rushing, like a second voice. Eva held her breath, her heart suddenly beating faster, and from the way he tightened his grip on his staff, she knew Lennar had sensed it too. The rustling came from deep within the stalks; they were being pushed aside – not gently, not like a breeze, but with purposeful force. A clear track was now visible, moving swiftly through the grain. An animal? The gap it left behind was far too wide for a deer or a corn fox. Then they heard it clearly: breathing. Panting. Like a bellows fanning embers. It was coming straight toward them.
Lennar reacted at once. He stepped forward, directly beside Eva, putting his body between her and the source of the sound. “Careful,” he said quietly. The wood of the Ventus staff gleamed in the moonlight, his finger steady on the trigger. Eva, too, did not take her eyes off the spot. “Easy,” she murmured, more to herself than to Lennar. The breathing grew stronger. A throaty snorting that reached her from within the grain. Beneath that breath there was something else – a deep growl she could feel in her bones. Lennar did not move an inch. But Eva noticed how his shoulders tensed, how his free hand curled into a fist.
Then the rustling came closer. As if something – something big – was nosing its way through the ears of grain, forcing their heads down as if they were weightless. Eva watched a wave move through the field, saw it draw a black line through the golden stalks. Lennar was faster than she was. His staff snapped up into a defensive stance, his body lowered, feet planted firmly in the ground like a tiger preparing to pounce. “Come on, show yourself,” he whispered. There was no fear in his voice, but, as Eva noticed with some astonishment, impatience. Typical, shot through her mind; other people weigh risks. The storm folk at best weigh where to strike first.
The growling grew louder. A rumble that could have made the air itself vibrate. Eva felt fear trying to claw its way up from her gut. But she forced it down, pressed it back. “Call me Eva” or not, she was Lennar’s superior. She had to stay calm and keep control.
Then, suddenly, a snort, so loud and so present that Eva felt warm breath brush against her skin. An earthy smell drifted toward her. The ears of grain in front of them, only a few steps away, bent violently aside as if something enormous had pushed through them. Eva and Lennar stared – and yet saw nothing. Then, all at once, it was over. The rustling moved away. The growling faded. The breathing – gone. As quickly as it had appeared, it vanished again, as completely as if a curtain had been drawn shut. What remained was a swath of flattened grain and the crackling of stalks slowly straightening up again.