25. Owen

The next morning, they gathered up their bags and left the windmill. The snow had stopped falling, and now the sun was shining, but a blanket of white spread out as far as the eye could see. The snow glittered in the light, looking like a magical wonderland.

"It's beautiful," Owen said, as they tramped through it. Luckily, the snow was no deeper than the top of his boots.

"Yeah, but it"s going to slow us down." Colt looked around before glancing Gilda's way as she led them. "You seem to know where we're going better than I do."

"I know this land," she replied. "I spent about ten years of my life here. We're close to Whiteberry River. It flows along Vanhelm's border. I'd guess it's about twenty miles south."

Brom's brow pinched, and he cut his eyes to her before looking back at Colt. "I have no idea how she calculates these distances."

"We can't walk that far in the snow," Owen broke in.

"We have to try," Colt said.

As they passed the trees, Owen looked up at the leafless branches now covered with snow and ice. The bitter cold seeped into his heart as he trudged on, thinking of how he continued to endanger everyone he loved simply by existing. It was a heavy weight that fell on his shoulders, one that dragged his spirit down. But as the day warmed, he felt himself perk up slightly.

They trudged through the snow all day before making camp in someone's barn, then they woke before the sun came up and made it to the river by evening, just as Gilda said.

An overgrown icy dirt path led down to a hanging bridge that crossed to a small island in the middle of the massive river. Another bridge continued from the island to the other side. Owen gazed out at the far bank and wondered if freedom would be found there. Then a frigid breeze blew, and Owen turned in alarm as an array of mixed energies wafted his way.

He heard something barking at them, and when Owen looked over, his heart sank and his eyes widened as he spotted Clove running up to them. Behind her, a horde of men on horseback headed their way.

"It's him. It's Rem. Everyone get to the river!" Owen said, urging them past the trees. As they scrambled down to the bank, Owen glanced back, feeling the threat in full swing now.

"They won't be able to cross with their horses," Brom started.

"It won't stop them from crossing either way!" Gilda snapped.

As they came nearer to the bridge, Owen stopped short. One glance at the water brought back memories of when he'd fallen in the river in Milarc. The boat he'd rowed in with Colt and Amias had crashed against a rock, and he'd been thrown into the rapids that nearly drowned him.

"One at a time," Brom told them, going first. The bridge hung about four feet above the water and was only a few boards wide.

Gilda started in behind him, chancing a look back at their pursuers. Clove ran toward the bridge barking at them, but the way she looked back at the Hunters, not attacking them, Owen wondered if she was trying to warn them to leave quickly.

"Go on." Colt pushed Owen forward.

"What if it breaks and I fall in?" Owen's hands tightened around the rope that made up the rails.

"Then I'll jump in after you."

Taking a breath, Owen walked forward. He peered to his right to see the rush of the water as it flowed over the rocks. When a shot fired out from behind them, he ducked, nearly losing his footing on the slippery boards. Another shot rang out, and something whizzed past him.

"Keep the young man alive!"

His stomach dropped at the sound of that voice. Daring to look back, Owen's eyes met with a familiar face he'd hoped to never see again.

Owen felt someone tug him along the rest of the way until they made it to the island. From the bank, Rem glowered at him.

"Get across, Owen," Brom said. "We'll take care of them."

"No." Owen curled his fingers around the hilt of his dagger. "I have an idea. All of you go to the other side. I'll meet you over there."

Colt stepped up. "I'll stay with you."

"No. I need you all to get across."

"Owen," he growled.

Owen turned to him. "Trust me."

Colt hesitated, his jaw clenching, but he nodded.

"I've got this." He spread his fingers out, preparing himself.

Brom led Gilda and Colt across the second bridge as Rem's men crossed to the island.

The first of Rem's men went slowly across the bridge, which gave Owen plenty of time to build the fire in his veins. It burned him from the inside, almost painful in comparison to the freezing air around him, but once he pushed past it, he was able to grab hold of it and contain it.

On the bank, Rem's dark eyes stared him down.

Just as three of Rem's men stepped onto the bridge, Owen set his hands on the ropes, his fingers gripping the rough fibers. His palms grew hot, and then smoke rose as the smell of the burning rope filled his nostrils. Purple flames took hold of the rope, scorching quickly toward Rem's men.

The first man halted. "Turn around!" he called. "It's on fire!"

They shuffled back as the fire traveled along the ropes.

Rem stepped up to the edge of the water, waiting, seemingly undeterred by what was happening.

Breathing deep, Owen squeezed the ropes, and a powerful burst of air swept over the bridge, spreading the fire across the wooden boards of the walkway and scorching the smaller webs of rope that made up the sides.

The bridge collapsed, sending three of Rem's men into the water. He watched as one of them tumbled over the rocks before the river swept him under. The other two managed to grab hold of something.

Owen ran for the second bridge, keeping his eyes on his companions as he rushed across. When he reached the other side, Colt grabbed him and pulled him into a hug.

Brom tousled his hair. "Knew you had it in you."

"That was amazing!" Gilda squeezed his arm.

"It was." Colt beamed at Owen for a moment, then his brow furrowed. "But we've gotta keep on. I think we've pissed them off."

They scrambled through the trees, climbing up the embankment until they reached the top of a hill. Below, the water was still visible, but they'd gotten out of sight enough to rest. Owen collapsed on a boulder, holding his side, as it ached from running. He was also spent from using his Essence. They all panted, trying desperately to catch their breaths.

Owen wiped the sweat from his brow. "Now what?"

Colt took a swig of water from his waterskin and wiped his mouth. "Hopefully we can lose them if we keep moving south."

"Into Vanhelm?" Brom furrowed his brow. "We're sure we want to go there? Last chance."

"We don"t have any other choice, Brom."

"Blast it all." Gilda removed her bag from her shoulders. "Some of the shit in this bag has got to go. I can't lug this heavy thing around while running from Hunters."

"Lose the pots and pans, except for the smallest," Colt said.

"Not the cookware," Brom said dramatically.

"We'll find you a new set later," Gilda growled, and threw one of the pans behind a boulder. "We need to lighten our bags."

Owen shuffled around his bag for anything he should let go of. Everything he owned was either clothes, food, or books, none of which he could throw out. Brom removed a few odd trinkets from his newly acquired bag while Colt just watched, as he was already carrying as light as possible.

Once they had lightened their load, they continued along in silence, with Gilda leading the way. Thankfully, the land flattened, making it easier for them to trek. They looked back constantly, watching for the Hunters.

They didn't stop to rest when night fell, but they slowed their pace. Gilda held onto Owen's arm as she steadied herself from running for so long.

"You okay?" Owen asked her.

"Yes." She took a deep breath. "This Rem, he's very persistent."

Owen grunted in agreement. Part of him wanted to give himself up to keep his companions safe, but he knew suggesting such a thing would only upset them, at best. At worst, it would result in all of them being found.

They continued on, all of them going quiet. It seemed Owen's life was surrounded by an endless stream of chaos, and he was the one causing it.

When the faint blue light of dawn filtered through the trees, Owen looked around. He hadn't slept, only dozed. Gilda had tied her hair back at the nape of her neck. Strands of her curly hair came loose from her tie, and her eyes were bloodshot. Colt and Brom looked worn and ragged as well.

There was no set path for them, which made things all the more treacherous in the dark, so they had settled early the night before, much to Owen's relief. After eating a quick breakfast, they walked in silence through the woods, and by noon, they emerged into a field covered in a fine layer of snow.

As they crunched through the snow, Owen marveled at the beauty of the land stretching out for miles ahead of them. "So, this is Vanhelm?"

"I'm assuming," Brom replied, breathing hard from their strenuous walking. "If so, I'd say it's not so bad."

"Just wait, I'm sure the bad things are coming," Gilda remarked. She took her waterskin and tipped it up into her mouth.

"Right, you should consider setting up a café out here, Brom." Colt nodded at the land. "You thought of a name?"

Brom smirked. "You know, I was thinking of calling it On the Run Café. For your local fugitives who just need a quick bite before they have to hightail it on the road again."

Colt cracked a laugh, and at first, this made Owen feel guilty, but when he looked over and caught Brom's wink, he smiled.

Gilda sighed. "Oh yes, I'm sure you'll attract all the other ruffians who have decided to camp out near a haunted cemetery."

"Or the ghosts…" offered Owen.

"Ghosts?" Brom started. "Well, they deserve to have a place for entertainment as well."

They followed an old path grown over with weeds and grass until they came to a small pond. After making a small fire to boil some water in their one remaining pot, they filled their waterskins and quickly covered their tracks before they picked back up along the beaten path. They walked until they saw a village in the distance.

"We should avoid going through," Brom said.

They all nodded in agreement, too tired to argue, and took another way around the village so they couldn't be seen. Their way led them into more trees, and before long, the ground became soft and damp. Fallen branches and trees littered the area, and a broken stone wall ran along their path, most of it crumbling.

"Doesn't look like anyone uses this path much," Brom said.

"And what in the world gave that away?" Gilda rolled her eyes.

They heard a few birds but saw no other animals. There wasn't much snow down this way, and the grass was low and brown, as if it had withered long ago and never bothered growing back. They passed abandoned cottages, the windows shattered and roofs collapsed, and broken fences overgrown with thick, ugly brush.

When Owen overheard his companions talking about taking shelter in one of the abandoned buildings for the night, the idea put a bad feeling in his mind.

"Can't we just stay out here?" he asked. "I mean, there's no telling what could be lingering in there. Rats, mold, who knows what."

"Mold? You're afraid of sleeping in an old house because of that?" Colt chuckled.

Gilda shrugged. "It's not illogical."

"But it's freezing," Brom cut in. "Let's at least take a look at that one there. The roof is still sort of intact."

Puffing out his cheeks, Owen looked up as a gust of wind blew his way. They made their way to the house and opened the door. It wasn't very big, and held only one room, but it seemed to be vacant of critters. They set their bags down and found a spot on the floor to rest.

"Might as well stay the night here," Brom said, standing in the doorway. "The roof is holding up and it'll be dark soon."

Owen's body vibrated from all the running and walking they'd been doing. He dabbed a bit of water and salve on some of the cuts he'd gotten while traversing through the woods. His arms and back were already sore. Sleeping on the hard, broken floorboards would only make the feeling worse, but as soon as he laid on his blanket and placed his hand in Colt's, he fell asleep.

He woke hours later, in the early dawn light, to the sound of something deep thudding nearby, making the ground vibrate beneath him. Sitting up, Owen glanced over and saw Brom near the window.

"Something wrong?" Owen asked, eyes groggy.

"We're not alone," Brom whispered.

Colt sat up and furrowed his brow, apparently awake. "Rem?"

"No, it's a… well, maybe you should come see for yourself."

They scrambled to the broken window and pulled back the dirty curtain. Owen strained his eyes as they skimmed along the broken fence and the other dilapidated house across the path.

His heart sank into his stomach when he saw something tall moving slowly down the path from where they had traveled. In the faint light, he could make out the outline of a giant man. Its shoulders were level with the cottages' roofs.

"What is that?" Owen pulled back, his eyes wide.

"Looks like a giant," Brom whispered.

"A giant? Like in my folklore book?" He blinked at the creature in surprise. "Wow."

Colt and Brom shushed him, then they looked at one another as the floor beneath them vibrated. The closer the giant came, the more the ground shook with each step.

"Knock it off," Gilda growled, woken by the giant's steps. Sitting up, she narrowed her sleepy eyes when she found them at the window, unmoving. "What is that?"

"We should get our things packed." Colt rolled up their blankets.

"No, it might feel our movement," Brom whispered.

Gilda made her way to the window. "Good gods in the heavens above."

"We need to leave." Owen pulled on his cloak and gathered up his bag.

"If we let it pass, it no doubt will walk right on by without finding us." Brom's voice was low.

Gilda turned a nasty eye on him. "I'm not sitting like a duck waiting for it to come over."

They all fell silent when the footsteps suddenly stopped. Owen's heart hammered against his chest. His hand gripped his dagger, but he wasn't sure what good it would do him against the giant outside. They waited a few minutes, each of them frozen in place. When they heard the sudden drumming of the giant's footsteps again, they were moving faster, coming closer.

"Move!" Colt yelled.

Owen jumped into the corner of the house just as part of the roof came crumbling down with a loud crash. A gaping hole revealed the rafters, and then another crash sent a corner of the house missing.

Owen and Colt bolted for the door after Gilda and Brom, who had swiped their bags up quickly and ran.

Coming outside, Owen turned around to see the giant spin toward them, a spiked club in its hand. Owen tripped over himself as he ran. Given the giant's massive size, he didn't expect the lug to catch up with them, but the giant's long legs allowed him wider strides. As the giant gained on them, it swept its arm out with the club.

Colt pulled Owen toward one of the collapsed cottages, while Brom and Gilda took shelter behind another. They hugged the only interior wall still standing, keeping quiet.

The giant growled low, his footfalls coming close. The ground trembled, then another crash sent debris flying from the house across Owen's line of sight.

They both froze.

Owen clamped his hand over his mouth, holding his breath as the creature came around the house. When he'd seen the creature, he hadn't imagined it would come after them so aggressively. This giant looked familiar to Owen, and he was sure he'd seen such a thing before in his book, but he wasn't sure which one. Reading from pages about giants was much safer than being near one.

Does this giant eat people? Gods, I hope not.

The giant swung its club against the ground beside them, missing them by mere feet.

"Over here!" Brom shouted. "Hey, you big brute!"

The giant trudged away toward Brom's voice.

Colt peered out from the side of the house, then motioned for them to run. Owen ran so hard, his side cramped. When he looked back, he saw Brom still taunting the giant before he disappeared behind the house.

They met with Gilda behind a cluster of rocks up on a low hill and ducked down.

Owen wheezed, catching the air back into his lungs. "Do you see Brom?"

"I can't see from here," Colt said. "It's still too dark."

"He told me he would find a way to us," Gilda breathed, "but I don't see him."

"You both stay here and I'll go back down to find him," Owen said.

Colt grabbed Owen's arm. "No."

"Colt, if Brom is still down there, one of us has to go after him."

"I know, but I'll go."

"I'm better at sensing."

"It's dangerous."

"What does that have to do with which one of us goes down there?" Owen's adrenaline was flowing into his voice.

"Owen—" Colt half-laughed, looking annoyed.

Gilda looked out at the field below. "Just wait a minute, you two. I feel him nearby." She squinted and pointed below. "There. He's coming from the house we were in. The giant doesn't see him, but he's limping."

"I'm going down to him." Owen went to stand, but both Colt and Gilda pulled him back down.

"Shh." She put her finger to her lips. "Wait until that thing goes behind the other houses."

They waited in silence for a minute, then Colt nodded. "Right, I'll go get him." He moved away before Owen could protest and snaked his way around the rocks below.

"Why does he do that?" Owen growled. Colt didn't understand that Owen felt responsible for any attack that befell their group. Sitting back and doing nothing bothered him more than anything.

"It's called love, Owen," Gilda muttered.

Owen opened his mouth, at a loss for words.

Love?

Gilda pulled him away. "Get your bag ready. We need to leave quickly."

He picked up his bag and waited until he saw two dark shapes moving toward them. When Colt reached their hiding place, he sat Brom against the rocks.

Gilda inspected his side, but found no blood. "What happened to you?"

"I'm still healing," Brom wheezed, his face contorting in pain. "Gods, I don't think I can run like that again."

"Then don't." Gilda kept her voice low. "We'll rest here until you're ready to walk."

Bending down, Owen put a hand on Brom's shoulder. "Thank you for what you did back there."

"What can I say?" Brom huffed. "I have to protect my family."

Despite their situation, Owen's face lit up. "We'd do the same for you, Brom."

"We've all got each other's backs," Colt said, and Brom's and Gilda's faces softened.

Owen looked back at the brute. "Think we'll see any more giants?"

"Where there's one, there are many," Gilda muttered.

"That's not a saying," Owen protested. "I hope…"

The air fell silent as they gazed down at the houses. The sky was lighter now, and they could see the looming figure of the giant as he stalked back down the path, still searching for them.

The wind picked up, whistling as it blew around the rocks.

"Welcome to Vanhelm," Gilda said.