Barrow looked like he wanted to laugh, but he continued: “The village sits below Tearmunn on the northeastern shore of the loch. They supply us with livestock and trade goods in exchange for our protection.”
“Do they know about Conatus . . . why it exists?” Ember turned in the saddle, squinting to see the cluster of buildings squatting on the valley floor to the north.
“No,” Barrow told her. “They believe us to be knights of a normal variety. The fewer that know our true purpose, the safer we are. If you make visits to the village, it cannot be as a member of the Guard. The sight of a woman dressed as you are would stir suspicion. If you want to travel there, we can make arrangements.”
He patted Toshach’s shoulder. “We’ll take rides out of the keep so you can gain the skills required for battle astride a horse, but we’ll also ride so you’ll come to know the land. This is your home now.”
Wind lashed Ember’s cheeks as she gazed over the rough, gray waters of the lake. She turned, searching the landscape behind her and finding jagged hills. Some were covered in pine; others were bare but would soon blush with heather. Tearmunn lay nestled in a place both severe and beautiful. A gust of wind made the surface of the lake shiver, and Ember thought she heard a cry carried on the cold air.
Without a command from Barrow, Toshach raised his head and began to move on.
“Barrow!” Ember had turned in her saddle. The sound of the cry was closer now. She peered along the shoreline, seeking the source of the keening. A small figure hurtled toward them, flailing its arms.
He reined in, brows lifting in question.
“Look!” She pointed at the runner.
“A villager?” Barrow wheeled Toshach around. His voice grew soft in a way that made Ember’s breath catch. “A child.”
He gave a shout and Toshach reared, striking the air with his hooves. Then they were away, gliding beside the lake. Without the splashes of water thrown up by the stallion, Ember might have believed Toshach’s hooves weren’t touching the ground at all.
Caber threw his head up, prancing in a circle. With a whisper Ember let him run. Caber tore up the ground, flying over the shore. The wind screamed around Ember, pulling tears from her eyes. But she laughed as her heart matched the rhythm of Caber’s pounding hooves.
Though she couldn’t imagine being anything but terrified of two riders bearing down at full gallop, when the child saw that they were coming, he ran even faster. As they drew close, Ember saw that the small boy was about six or seven. He was still waving his hands, and dark liquid spurted into the air with the motion.
They were almost on top of the boy when Barrow reined Toshach in. The knight leapt from the saddle and ran to the boy. Caber snorted and pranced, making it awkward for Ember to dismount. She stumbled away from the horse and found Barrow kneeling in front of the child. He was holding the boy’s left wrist in his hand. The child had a bloody knife clutched in his other hand. Barrow examined the boy’s left hand, and Ember’s stomach lurched when she saw blood pouring from two stumps where his ring finger and pinky had been.
“It took them! It took them!” The boy’s cries were ragged. “They’re drowned!”
“What’s your name, child?” Barrow asked gently, then glanced at Ember. “There are bands of clean linen in my saddlebags. Get some so we can bind this wound.”
“Gordon,” Ember heard the boy say as she rifled through the pack strapped to Toshach’s saddle. Both the horses were restless, moving skittishly on the shore, their ears up and swiveling as if straining to hear approaching danger.
“That’s a strong name for a strong lad,” Barrow told the child. “And you must be strong, for you’ve been fighting. Is that not so?”
“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” Gordon’s eyes were wide as he looked at Barrow. “One of the knights from the keep. My da says you protect us.”
“Your da told you the truth,” Barrow answered. “Tell me what happened.”
Gordon wailed and Barrow murmured in a voice too low for Ember to hear, but a moment later the child’s cries quieted.
Ember returned to them with the bands of linen.
“Who did this to you?” she asked Gordon.
Gordon blanched, his eyes sweeping the rough water. “I had to. It took them. It would have taken me.”
Frowning, Ember reached for the boy’s wounded hand. Gordon sucked in his breath but didn’t cry out as she began to bind his wound.
“You cut off your fingers,” Barrow said hoarsely, and the boy nodded.
Bile rose in Ember’s throat. “Why would you do that?”
“I had to!” Tears ran down Gordon’s pale cheeks.
“Did the beast come from the loch?” Barrow asked.
Ember looked at him sharply. What beast?
Gordon sniffled. “We didn’t know. We didn’t see it come out of the water. Mackie thought it was a loose horse and we’d get a reward if we brought it back to the village. But it was a kelpie!”
Barrow gritted his teeth, swearing. “How many of your friends did it take?”
“Mackie and John,” Gordon sobbed. “They couldn’t get their knives out it time. It took them under and I ran away.”
“You did the right thing, Gordon,” Barrow said. “You were clever and brave.”
“Clever and brave?” Ember wanted to shove Barrow into the loch. Why was he going on about bravery when this child was bleeding all over the shore?
Barrow cut a sharp look at her, making her bite her tongue. “The children were hunted by a water horse. It’s a bad omen that one would prey on a village neighboring Tearmunn. It’s as if the darkness wanted to taunt us.”
“A water horse?” Ember shivered, glancing at the gray waters of the loch. “But they . . .” She’d been about to say that water horses only existed in stories meant to keep children from playing too close to lakes and rivers, but her mind choked off her words. She couldn’t cling to the beliefs that had shaped her life prior to arriving at Tearmunn. She’d already faced a revenant. If Barrow said water horses were real, she had no choice but to believe him.
She crouched beside Gordon. “Why did you cut yourself?”
Even through his tears, Gordon eyed her as if she were a fool. “Everyone knows that once you touch a kelpie, you stick to it. That’s why the others drowned. They didn’t remember their knives.”