The Book of Shadow, page 6
part #1 of The Curse of the Unnamed Series
“No, kind knight, I’ll find my own way. You can leave me with your light, if you like, allowing you to return to your own bed.”
Mikol glanced from him to the lantern, considering the proposal, before proffering the lamp. After Misk took it, the fellow bowed his head, then retired along the hallway.
“Goodnight,” the old man said after him. “And thank you.”
He returned his attention to the stairway looming before him, flickering light spilling down a dozen steps before fading, leaving the rest in darkness lying in wait for him. He took a step onto the first riser, his knee popping, and he cringed.
“Damn your stubbornness, Viden Misk,” he said aloud.
His words tumbled down the uncaring stairs, their very existence mocking him for being old. He deserved their disdain; he shouldn’t have allowed pride to make him refuse the knight’s help. Strong arms carrying him to descend the stair might not have boosted his ego, but an arm to grip and solid presence to lean on would have done him well. Now, he paused, hoping to reach the bottom without plunging down the spiteful stairwell, likely breaking his limbs and head in the doing.
He progressed slowly, taking as much time as he needed with each step, ensuring he didn’t overbalance and giving himself the opportunity to rest whenever he felt the slightest need. After a long while, his foot touched the rough stone floor at the stair terminus; a good deal more minutes had passed than the descent should have taken. He stood for a minute, having a brief respite and wiping sweat from his brow before continuing to his chamber. When he arrived, he closed the door, set the lantern beside his own on the clothing chest, and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, back protesting and creaking.
The warm light flooded the small room, illuminating the piles of books and stacks of rolled parchment filling it. One such scroll lay upon the desk in front of where he sat, one end held under a glass paperweight, the other rolling up on itself. Misk peered at the mirror hanging above the table, examining his sunken eyes and sallow cheeks, the gray whiskers on his face, the wispy strands of hair crisscrossing his scalp.
What he would give to be young again.
“You’re already an old man; don’t make yourself into a foolish one.”
He leaned forward and turned the brass knob on the side of the lantern he’d liberated from the knight, reducing the flame until it extinguished. The last vestige of flickering light cast colors at the back of his eyes as he settled on the edge of the bed; he stared straight ahead in the dark at the spot where the mirror hung on the wall. After a minute, the flame’s after-image faded and darkness became complete.
Until red eyes peered at him from the silvered glass.
“ You did well, old man,” a voice said. He knew it intimately, for it had not only spoken to him innumerable times, it also once made a home on his tongue.
“It shouldn’t have gone so far,” he responded aloud. “I misjudged the boy’s constitution.”
The voice grunted its agreement, a noise holding no accusation, only understanding.
“ The champion will arrive soon,” it said. “After that, the grimoire will rest in your possession once more.”
“It is but the first step.”
“ Every journey begins with such things.”
Misk nodded, the two red eyes glowing like coals nodding along with him.
“It feels as though it has already been so long.”
“ Great distance has passed beneath our feet,” the voice said. “Much time has spilled by while we worked. The end nears.”
The old man sighed. “One way or another.”
Exhaustion filled him, adding weight to his limbs and causing his eyelids to slide closed. He jerked them open, shook his head, and gazed toward the mirror once more. The two glowing red eyes disappeared, leaving him alone so he might sleep. He twisted, back twinging as he raised his legs to put his feet on the thin mattress without bothering to slip them out of his sandals. He laid his head on the lumpy pillow, staring at darkness gathering at the ceiling as he waited for pain to subside and slumber to claim him.
“One way or another,” he muttered, words garbled by encroaching sleep. “One way or another, the end is near.”
Chapter 5
S unshine found its way between the low buildings surrounding the square, leaving streaks of light slashing across the dusty ground. Llyris shifted herself so a beam fell across her face, warming her cheek.
She’d risen with the rooster’s crow, washed, dressed, and donned the pack readied the night before after returning from the tavern but before Rein and Jai’s noise woke her. They’d agreed to meet at daybreak, but sunrise had been an hour or more ago. Now, other villagers emerged from their hovels, starting their days. A few passed her by, eying her with what she thought suspicion. She expected they must wonder why a young woman wearing a backpack loitered in the middle of the square so early. Some looked, but nobody asked.
The palms of her hands itched, but she resisted scratching them. She shifted from foot to foot and glanced around her, watching the people passing, searching the spaces between buildings for her companions to emerge. Minutes passed, stacking on top of one another until the sun’s leading edge peeked over the rooftops to spill its glorious warmth into the square. The heat, she appreciated, but not the wait.
She stuck her hand into her pocket, touched Flayre. Part of her wanted to pull her out, examine the unique creature lying on her flattened palm, but she dared not with people nearby. With anyone around, truthfully. The fewer who suspected her profession and ability, the better. Too many feared magiks and, by association, their handlers. Instances of those who controlled the Unnamed being killed by their charges—like Marita—were rare; occasions of them being attacked by scared villagers much more common.
Llyris knew of it happening to one of her classmates from the guild on her very first solo assignment. She didn’t know the name of the town, but she recalled the handler—Bettany. She’d only heard they sent her to disperse a plague of locusts destroying their crops. After seeing her Unnamed in action—a bird-like creature capable of calling lightning from the sky—hysteria spread through the townspeople in the way fire devours dry grasslands. They’d swarmed her, beating her unconscious despite her being there to help them. With their bond broken, her magik flew free.
Bettany never walked again. Someone probably not unlike Rein Shriken stalked the creature and killed it. Locusts decimated the village’s crops.
Fear makes people do strange things. Often she’d overheard a guild Senior voice such a sentiment.
Llyris shifted, scanning the square, hoping to recognize the knights making their way to her, and wondered if the baron’s champion might have murdered the handler’s magik. Whether or not he did, she considered it a shame. It had hurt no one, though it could have destroyed the village and everyone in it. What a waste of a life.
A commotion at the end of the square behind her caught Llyris’ attention, and she spun around, the heel of her boot digging a shallow well in the dirt. Two riders pushed their way through the modest crowd ahead of another horse pulling a wagon packed full. She squinted and raised her hand to shield her eyes from the sun, afraid to discover these were the men for whom she waited.
It took but a few seconds for her to recognize Rein’s flowing locks and chiseled jaw.
Llyris’ breath caught in her throat. Did they decide they didn’t need her help after all and intended to ride the entire way to Carpera’s estate? Her heart sank. If they left her behind, the Seniors of the guild would be unimpressed, for it meant not collecting the tithe due them for her services. They’d recall her for such a lapse, punish her, send her somewhere far less pleasurable than in Rein Shriken’s presence.
They made their way across the square, Ilkari driving the over-laden wagon behind them. In it, she saw suits of armor layered together with cloth between to keep from chafing the metal, along with packs and sacks—of clothing, she assumed—and bows and quivers and other sundries. Her stomach clenched tight at the possibility of reassignment to some godforsaken hamlet in need of a traveler to transport their dung away from their water supply or some other task as unpleasant.
Rein pulled his horse to a halt in front of her and peered down from his saddle.
“Good morning,” Llyris said, doing her best to appear bright and chipper.
The knight cringed. “Quieter, if you please. We stayed out late last night.”
“And the ale flowed freely,” Jai added.
She chose not to respond as she recalled them staggering to their rooms, ladies in tow. Instead, she diverted her gaze to Ilkari as he pulled the wain up beside them and tilted her a nod in greeting. The horse pulling the chock-full wagon whinnied and sighed, glad for the rest.
Rein lifted his chin and surveyed the square before facing his gaze on her again. “Will you travel us from here, or do you prefer somewhere private, with a bit of space?”
Llyris regarded him, aware of the confused expression ensconced on her face. When she didn’t reply, he raised an eyebrow but did not ask a second time. As the dutiful servant, Ilkari took his cue.
“It’s likely better we get away from the crowd before we proceed, isn’t it, miss?”
She redirected her attention to him, surprised by his choice to refer to her with such formality after they’d socialized the night before, but more taken aback as understanding of Rein’s words dawned on her.
“You want me to travel all this?”
She recognized the disbelief in her own voice but found herself unable to stop it. Her mouth remained open, gaping at this request. She’d never transported an animal the size of a horse, let alone several of them, including one pulling a wagon. Truthfully, she’d impressed herself when she took all three of them with her in search of the shifter.
“Of course,” Rein said, scoffing at the question. “Do you expect me to embark on some merchant’s silly quest without life’s necessities?”
Llyris peered from the knight to the cart. Ilkari shrugged at her.
Necessities?
She grabbed the straps of her own pack and readjusted it, pondering its meager contents—her essentials—and wondered what else he needed beyond armor, weapons, clothing, and food. Perhaps a woman of the night or two hid beneath the canvas sacks.
“I don’t—” she began.
“Come,” Jai said, prompting his horse around and starting toward the far end of the square. “Let’s find somewhere more private for our exit.”
“Good thinking,” Rein agreed.
He spurred his mount after his friend and, a few seconds later, Ilkari snapped the reins in his hands and got the wagon moving, too. As he pulled up beside Llyris, who stood her ground watching the knights leave, he offered his hand. She stared at it for a second before taking it, and he drew her up to take a seat at his side on the narrow driver’s board.
“Sorry for our lateness,” he said.
She shook her head. “I don’t think I can do it, Ilkari.”
He looked sideways at her, one brow raised. “Do what?”
“Travel all of this.”
He made a thoughtful humming noise at the back of his throat, but didn’t speak. Ahead of them, Rein and Jai disappeared between a shack and a hovel, making their way out of the square and toward the edge of the village squatted near the walls of the baron’s estate. Her mind raced. What should she say to them? Admit her inability to do it? She imagined them leaving her behind, hurling words of disappointment and derision at her. Her heart ached at the idea of letting them down.
“I can take one at a time.” She glanced toward Ilkari, hoping for support.
“How long will it require?”
She let her gaze fall on a woman dragging her child out of the path of the wagon, the small girl’s hand clasped in hers. As always, the sight brought pain to Llyris’ chest—she’d never known her mother.
“Days,” she said finally. “It’s a lot of stuff, and a great distance. Flayre needs to rest in between.”
Ilkari shook his head. “I can’t imagine Rein and Jai being amenable to camping out and waiting. Not their style. Can you try to travel everything at once?”
Llyris rubbed the palm of her left hand with the thumb of her right, trying to dispel the returned itch and wiping away sweat. She ran her tongue along the inside of her teeth, sucked on her lips. None of it gave her any relief from the anxiety building in her chest, nor an answer to his query.
“What choice do I have?”
Ilkari shook his head. “I hear that,” he said in a wistful tone.
The wagon rattled its way between the same two huts Rein and Jai had disappeared through, the space opening into a street broad enough for a couple of wagons to pass. They encountered little traffic on the road other than those afoot, so the squire slapped the reins, prompting more speed from the beleaguered nag. Ahead, the knights chatted and chuckled as their sleeker, less laden mounts strutted along the track between the rows of shacks.
They rode without speaking for what felt to Llyris a long while, though surely only fifteen minutes passed before they reached the hamlet’s end. She shifted and fidgeted the entire time, Ilkari often glancing at her out of the corner of his eye as she struggled to find a comfortable position. They both knew it wasn’t the hardness of the seat causing her discomfort.
The knights rode by the last row of houses and into a clearing ten yards from the forest’s fringe. Workers moved along the road, going to their tasks in the fields or chopping wood, but none of them strayed through the meadow. The baron’s champion and his friend halted their horses in the center of the grassy swath, reined them around to face the wagon as it approached.
“Will this work for you?” Rein called out.
Llyris swallowed, saliva clicking in her throat. “Yes, I think so.”
Her voice wavered, but she suspected too much distance separated them for the knight to notice her trepidation. At least, she hoped it the case. A minute later, Ilkari pulled the wain up beside them and reined them to a stop. They looked sideways at each other, nobody speaking before Rein raised an eyebrow.
“Well? Do you require time for preparation, or can we get started?”
She cleared her throat. “Are you in any shape to be traveled?”
Jai guffawed. “No amount of drink or women has ever deterred us from duty or glory.”
Rein nodded along with his friend’s sentiment, but Ilkari shifted on the bench beside her, making her suspect alcohol or harlots may have previously deterred them. Apparently, being late didn’t count.
“I need to prepare,” she said, sliding across the plank, intending to climb down. She stopped when Ilkari’s hand rested on her forearm. She turned and found his gaze upon her.
“You can do this,” he said, his voice firm but quiet, keeping his words between them. “I believe in you.”
He gave her a squeeze, then took his touch away. She hesitated a second, offering him a lopsided, wan smile in thanks, then jumped from the wagon’s bench. Her pack jolted on her back, and Flayre bumped against her thigh. She placed her hand on the small creature in her pocket, hoping the jarring hadn’t disturbed her—she was about to ask the magical being to do more than she’d ever done, at least in her experience with Llyris as her handler. For the first time, she wondered about Flayre’s existence before they came together.
The knights peered down from their steeds, expectant. She cleared her throat, wiped her sleeve across her mouth.
“I’ll need a few minutes,” she said.
“Please, take your time.” Sarcasm dripped from Rein’s tone. “We have nowhere to be except where you’re taking us.”
Jai chuckled, and Llyris laughed along with them without mirth. She turned from them and headed farther into the meadow, the long grass brushing her legs above her knees. She leaned over, held her flattened palm out, and let the tips tickle her skin as she walked, the residue of Ilkari’s touch still on her forearm. Her father had never touched her in such a way; he’d never touched her, except in ways he shouldn’t have. And even the Seniors of the guild rarely offered words of encouragement, limiting their offerings to instruction or reprimand.
Perhaps she could do it.
Not me. Flayre, she corrected herself.
She found a spot where the grass grew more sparsely and slipped her hand into her pocket, pulled forth the tiny, candle-like creature hidden within. Out in the sun, her hide’s purple hue became more noticeable, reminiscent of the skin of an aubergine. Llyris ran her finger along it, seeking to wake the Unnamed from her slumber, or wherever she went when not needed.
“Flayre,” she whispered. “It’s time.”
The cylindrical being trembled, the shiver quaking over Llyris’ palm. She glanced over her shoulder at the squire, the knights, their horses, wagon, and gear. She’d never considered attempting the transfer of so much material at once, nor knew of another handler doing so. She wondered if she should make an attempt. Nothing accomplished in her life suggested her ability to pull off such a feat.
She stared at the being lying on her palm. Often, she’d spent time pondering Flayre’s true nature. She never appeared to eat, nor create waste—did no more than sleep other than when transporting Llyris somewhere. If anyone at the guild knew, they hadn’t taught her in her training, leaving mysteries to be mysteries.
Or they intended me to find out for myself, she thought.
She’d discover nothing if she pushed Flayre to the breaking point. And for what? To help a merchant she didn’t know to locate a book?
Llyris frowned down at her hand, then twisted to peer over her shoulder. What if she refused to take them? What recourse could they have?
No punishment immediately, but her life as a handler would end, and she’d never see Flayre again. The thought tugged at her heart and she closed her fingers gently around the tiny being, suing the gesture to show her affection.
“I’m sorry, Flayre,” she said, directing her attention to the magical being. “We have no choice.”
