The Warded Man by Peter V. Brett

out of the house, crying. She was beautiful in her sadness, and Arlen had wanted to go comfort her, even though she was eight summers older than him. He hadn’t been so bold, but he’d watched her longer than was wise, and almost paid a heavy price for it when the sun began to set.
    A mangy dog began barking as they approached the farm, and a young girl came out onto the porch, watching them with sad eyes.
    “We might have to succor here,” Jeph said.
    “It’s still hours till dark,” Arlen said, shaking his head. “If we don’t catch Ragen by then, the map says there’s another farm up by where the road forks to the Free Cities.”
    Jeph peered over Arlen’s shoulder at the map. “That’s a long way,” he said.
    “Mam can’t wait,” Arlen said. “We won’t make it all the way today, but every hour is an hour closer to her cure.”
    Jeph looked back at Silvy, bathed in sweat, then up at the sun, and nodded. They waved at the girl on the porch, but did not stop.
    They covered a great distance in the next few hours, but found no sign of the Messenger or another farm. Jeph looked up at the orange sky.
    “It will be full dark in less than two hours,” he said. “We have to turn back. If we hurry, we can make it back to Harl’s in time.”
    “The farm could be right around that next bend,” Arlen argued. “We’ll find it.”
    “We don’t know that,” Jeph said, spitting over the side of the cart. “The map ent clear. We turn back while we still can, and no arguing.”
    Arlen’s eyes widened in disbelief. “We’ll lose half a day that way, not to mention the night. Mam might die in that time!” he cried.
    Jeph looked back at his wife, sweating in her bundled blankets, breathing in short fits. Sadly, he looked around at the lengthening shadows, and suppressed a shiver. “If we’re caught out after dark,” he replied quietly, “we’ll all die.”
    Arlen was shaking his head before his father finished, refusing to accept it. “We could …” he floundered. “We could draw wards in the dirt,” he said at last. “All around the cart.”
    “And if a breeze comes along and mars them?” his father asked. “What then?”
    “The farm could be just over the next hill!” Arlen insisted.
    “Or it could be twenty more miles down the road,” his father shot back, “or burned down a year ago. Who knows what’s happened since that map was drawn?”
    “Are you saying Mam ent worth the risk?” Arlen accused.
    “Don’t you tell me what she’s worth!” his father screamed, nearly bowling the boy over. “I’ve loved her all my life! I know better than you! But I’m not going to risk all three of us! She can last the night. She has to!”
    With that, he pulled hard on the reins, stopping the cart and turning it about. He cracked the leather hard into Missy’s flanks, and sent her leaping back down the road. The animal, frightened by the coming dark, responded with a frantic pace.
    Arlen turned back toward Silvy, swallowing bitter anger. He watched his mother bounce around as the wheels ran over stones and dips, not reacting at all to the bumpy ride. Whatever his father thought, Arlen knew her chances had just been cut in half.
    The sun was nearly set when they reached the lonely farmhouse. Jeph and Missy seemed to share a panicked terror, and they screamed their haste as one. Arlen had leapt into the back of the cart to try and keep his mother from being thrown about by the widely jolting ride. He held her tight, taking many of the bruises and bashes for her.
    But not all; he could feel Coline’s careful stitches giving, the wounds oozing open again. If the demon fever didn’t claim her, there was a good chance the ride would.
    Jeph ran the cart right up to the porch, shouting, “Harl! We seek succor!”
    The door opened almost immediately, even before they could get out of the cart. A man in worn overalls came out, a long pitchfork in hand. Harl was thin and tough, like dried meat. He