The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 15
“And there you speak madness,” said Xain with a harsh laugh. “If an audience with the lord chancellor will be hard to come by, one with the High King will be impossible. Not unless you wish to see my head on a spike on her palace wall, and our tale still untold.”
Kal’s mouth twisted in a grim smile—an expression that looked utterly alien there, and made Loren squirm in her seat. “Yet that is the great beauty of it. Who better than you, Xain Forredar, to get the High King’s attention? Doubtless you will be brought straight to her throne room if you show your face upon the Seat. It is a much faster route than any other courtier, who would have to wait weeks or months for a meeting.”
“They will kill him,” said Loren angrily. “And then what help will he be to your cause?”
But to her surprise, she saw a grim resolution settle on Xain’s face. He sat straighter in his seat, and his hands were steady on the table.
“He sees it. Here, boy, drink up,” said Kal, and he slid his flask into Xain’s hand. The wizard took a long drink. “I think you have little reason to fear, girl. Those who hate Xain upon the Seat are many—the dean and the lord chancellor among them—but rumor has it the High King is not among their number. She may have issued the decree for his arrest, but she has put no word in writing calling for his death. That was done by the Academy when that young whelp Vivien told them about the magestones.”
“You guess that the High King will pardon him?” said Loren with a snort. “That is quite a risk to take—and with someone else’s life, I might add.”
Xain dropped the flask on the table with a sharp clack. “Yet it is a risk I will take.”
Loren stared at him, incredulous. “Xain, you cannot be serious.”
“I am, Loren. Kal is right—it is the fastest way to see the High King. There, I will be able to tell her my tale. Whatever may happen afterwards is not important.”
“It is important!” Loren cried. “I did not drag your wasted hide across all of Selvan and half of Dorsea only to see you throw your life away now. And what of your son, Xain? Have you lost all hope of recovering him?”
He stared at her, his eyes cold and dark. “Do not dangle my son before me in hopes of changing my will,” he said, voice harsh. “There are duties higher than even the bonds of family, and the promise made to a dying friend is one such. Especially when that promise was made in payment of sins forgiven.”
His anger left him as suddenly as it had come, like a thunderstorm vanishing from the summer sky. “By my hands many have burned,” he said, quiet now. “Jordel forgave me that, though the ones I slew were his brothers and sisters. Now I must earn that forgiveness. And if fortune smiles, mayhap Enalyn will at least let me see my son. One last time, at least, before the end.”
AS KAL TOLD THEM OFTEN and loudly, they had little time to waste. Still, he allowed them one day on the ship to recover from the road. Besides, the Long Claw needed to be restocked for the voyage, while Kal had his own plans to make for the return to Ammon.
“I shall be taking another ship,” he told them. “No use delaying my own passage home just to go to the Seat, when there is much work to be done back at the stronghold.”
With them he was sending four Mystics—good soldiers, he said, ones he trusted. From what she had seen of him so far, Loren thought that his trust did not come lightly, and was grateful for his offer. He brought the Mystics by later on the same day they had arrived, while they were preparing themselves to sleep in the cabins belowdecks.
Three of them Loren recognized from Kal’s cabin, though when she had seen them first, they had been behind swords. Their leader was a man named Erik. He was a hale warrior, with red hair and a beard almost as great as Kal’s own. With him were a huge young man named Jormund and a woman named Gwenyth. Though Erik spoke easily enough, and in fact was far more polite than Kal, the other two hardly said a word when they were introduced.
The fourth Mystic was another mage, a woman named Weath, who Kal told them was an alchemist. Almost from the start, she and Xain fell into animated conversation. Among a blur of words Loren hardly understood, she gathered that they had attended the Academy at around the same time, though Weath had completed her training with the Mystics. But they soon excused themselves to continue their conversation elsewhere—or rather, they were forced to leave when Erik nearly threw them out of the room.
Erik then sat with Loren and shared with her a bottle of wine, for he had many questions. In particular, he wanted to know of the Shades: their strength and the composition of their troops, their strategies and any weaknesses he might exploit. Loren felt that she was little help, for she had no mind for warfare or strategy. But when she told him of Trisken, and the man’s ability to cheat even mortal blows, Erik took a great interest.
“It was the tattoo on his neck,” Loren explained. “It held some dark enchantment. I would wager the Necromancer put it there, for it had the power to stay death itself. But when Jordel destroyed the tattoo, Trisken could at last be killed.”
“And you say it was on the back of the neck?” said Erik. “Do they always place it there?”
“I do not know for certain,” said Loren. “But Rogan, another man like Trisken, goes to battle with mail hanging from his helmet, which protects the same area. It seems a safe wager.”
“You are certain Rogan has the same power?”
“I shot him in the hip with an arrow. He snapped the shaft off as it if were a fly’s bite, and came for me again.” Loren shuddered at the memory, and at the baleful look she remembered in his eye.
“I have seen men do much the same in battle when their blood is up,” said Erik.
“Not like this, I promise you,” Loren assured him.
Whenever he paused to think of more questions, Loren asked him about himself and the others with him. She learned he bore the title of knight. But when she asked if that was true of the other Mystic warriors she had met, he shook his head.
“The greater part of Mystics are simply that—Mystics. They follow orders and fight at the command of others. In time they may be promoted to a knight, like myself, and then to the rank of captain. Captains answer to chancellors, who answer to one grand chancellor in each kingdom, who answer only to the lord chancellor himself. The lord chancellor answers to no one, save the High King.”
The others bore no rank—not even Weath. That confused Loren, for it seemed a wizard such as she would be more than a match for Erik in battle, even if he was a mighty warrior.
“It is not only strength in battle that determines worthiness of rank,” said Erik. “If that were so, the lord chancellor should never have risen to his position. That one is no warrior.”
“How did he rise, then?” said Loren.
Erik looked around, though no one else had come into the room since they began speaking. “There are many rumors, and little known for certain. But he hails from the family Drayden, and their influence is powerful in the nine lands. The dean of the Academy hails from that black clan as well.”
Loren shuddered, for she had heard that before. Annis, whose family of Yerrin was fearsome enough, had feared to do more than whisper at the dark machinations of the Draydens.
When at last Erik had exhausted his questions, and Loren had no more for him in return, he took his leave. Loren found herself alone in her cabin, for Gem and Chet had gone to the deck, while Xain and Annis had left her some time ago. She rose from her seat, pacing back and forth. There were two hard decisions to be made, and they had weighed heavily on her ever since Kal had first told her of his plan.
Just as she had made up her mind to go and put her thoughts to action, there was a sharp rap at her door. Before she could answer, it swung open to reveal Chet. His face was troubled, and he shut the door silently behind him as he came in. Then he came to stand before her, and though he looked as if he wanted to reach out and take her hands, he did not.
“You mean to go through with this mad plan, then?” he said.
Loren met his gaze and nodded. “I have no choice, Chet.”
“We all have a choice. You told me you had a message for the Mystics, a message that might let them save all the nine lands from peril. That message is delivered now, it seems. Yet still you march by their orders.”
She found herself annoyed at that, but she let it pass. “The message has not yet reached as far as it must. You heard Kal, and I know you saw the wisdom in his plan. Without the High King’s order, the nine lands may wait forever for the Mystics to act.”
“Xain is already determined to go and tell her of this, whatever the consequence he himself may face. Yet you, too, are a criminal under the King’s law. You might face the same penalty.”
“That is unlikely. I would be surprised if word of my doings have even reached the Seat.”
Still he did not look satisfied. But Loren had only just mustered the courage to go and do what must be done, and she had no time to console him now.
“I hope you will come with me still,” she said. “But I will understand if you wish to wait here. Stay on the coast, and I promise I will return to you the moment the High King has been told of the Shades’ threat. I mean to visit Ammon after, if only to see Jordel’s home. Beyond that, I have no aims—mayhap we can return to the Birchwood, where I am certain your father awaits your homecoming.”
“Would that I could believe that,” he murmured, looking past her as his eyes grew far away.
“I believe it. But now I must go and speak to Annis. You need decide nothing until tomorrow.”
She moved past him. At the last second his hand jerked out to brush against hers, and she let her fingers trail against his for a moment longer than she needed to.
Upon the ship’s main deck she found Annis. The girl sat on a large coiled rope, which formed a perfectly sized seat. She was watching Gem, who had somehow persuaded one of the Mystics to practice his swordplay with him. The boy had stripped down to the waist, and his bare feet danced upon the planks of the boat while he swung back and forth with his blade.
Though her mind had been made up, she quailed the moment she saw Annis sitting there. The girl looked up and saw her, and in her smile Loren saw the same quiet panic she herself felt. So rather than speak, she only sat next to Annis on the deck, and together they watched.
Gem’s weeks of practice seemed to have paid off, for he matched the Mystic blow for blow. The man was one Loren had not yet been introduced to, but he was thin and wispy, and seemed a perfect match for Gem’s small frame. Only now that she watched him, Loren saw that his frame was not so small as it had once been. In the months since she had met him, he had shot up like a beanstalk. And from all their many adventures, as well as the sword practice that he had thrown himself into after Jordel died, thin and sinewy muscle had developed where once there had been only skin clinging faithfully to bones.
She looked to Annis by her side, and saw that the merchant’s daughter, too, was no longer the child she had been when first she had met Loren. She was neither so plump nor so short as she had once been. And her eyes as they watched Gem showed something Loren recognized, something that might not yet be womanly, but was not entirely childish, either. It was a disconcerting feeling, to recognize that two people she held to be her closest friends in all the world should have grown so much in such a short space of time, and she herself hardly recognizing it.
Annis caught her looking and blushed, turning her eyes away from Gem as he practiced. “Am I staring so boldly?” she said. “I do not mean to—you probably think me a fool.”
“Sometimes you can be,” said Loren, nudging the girl’s knee. “But not just now.”
Annis slapped her hand, but the girl’s smile could not banish all anxiety from her eyes. She opened her mouth as if to speak but then closed it again. When she finally found her voice, Loren could tell the words were not the ones she most wanted—and needed—to say.
“What do you think I should do? About Gem, I mean.”
Loren shrugged. “Whatever you wish. Your feelings are your own.”
“You could give me some advice. After all, you and Chet …”
Loren felt her cheeks burn just a bit. “That is not the same. We have known each other all our lives, and Chet wished to marry me for years. You and Gem only met a little while ago, though indeed it seems much longer.” Her smile dampened, and she spoke more softly. “But I do not think that is what chiefly troubles you, Annis.”
For a few moments the girl attempted to feign ignorance, but the mask soon fell. She hung her head, her thick black hair cast down about her face. “No, it is not.”
“We are going to the Seat,” Loren prodded. “From all that you have told me, many of your family are there as well, and even more of their agents. For all we know, Damaris herself might have returned by now.”
“I doubt that,” Annis said quickly. “I do not think the Seat is much safer for her than it is for me just now, if indeed the Shades’ influence reaches so far as it seems.”
“And yet …”
“And yet.”
“If you wish to come with us, you may, of course. But I cannot see that as a wise choice, though it breaks my heart to say it.”
Tears sprang into Annis’ eyes, which she tried to keep fixed on Gem. “I do not wish to be parted from you all. I told you as much in the Greatrocks. I tell you again now.”
“And it is the last thing in the world I would wish for. But this is not forever, or even for very long—only until we have done our duty there, and can return to you.”
Annis barely held back a sob, and turned it to a sniff instead. “But you will take Gem.”
“Gem will not be hunted high and low by his family, for he has none.”
“What do you mean to do with me, then?”
“Nothing without your agreement,” said Loren. “I tried before to make such arrangements without asking you. I will never do that again.”
“You know my meaning,” said Annis. “Where would I go?”
“With Kal, I think. I will ask him to take you to Ammon. I can scarcely imagine a safer place for you in all the nine lands. And I mean to make my way there in any case, once we leave the Seat. There I will find you again, and together we will set forth upon the road once more.”
“Do you promise me this, Loren? You will not abandon me there and go your own way?”
Loren snatched her hands and pulled her down to sit on the deck so that they were facing each other. “I swear it by the sky above and the darkness below. When I sent you on ahead of me in Cabrus, I did not stop searching until I had found you again. When Xain was seized by madness and took you from me, I found you and plucked you from his lair. Hear me now: I will come for you in Ammon as soon as I may. You are my dearest friend, Annis of the family Yerrin.”
“You are more than a friend,” said Annis, who could no longer keep her tears within. “You are my sister—nearer to me than blood, and twice as dear.” And she fell forwards to throw herself into Loren’s arms, letting her tears spill silently down. Loren kept her own from falling—but only just.
THEY ALL SPENT A RESTLESS and fitful night on the boat. Loren had not slept well when they sailed on the riverboat along the Dragon’s Tail, and she found it no easier on a ship so large. Almost she thought to go into the town and find herself an inn for the night. But she feared discovery by the Shades, and Annis would have been distraught besides. The girl spent the night in Loren’s bed, curled up to her like a pup to its mother, and seemed to have no trouble with her slumber. So Loren stayed, waking in fits and starts, and when morning dawned she was miserable.
She had spoken with Kal the night before, and to her surprise he had agreed easily to the idea of taking Annis with him. “It is a sensible choice, and one I am surprised to hear the two of you make,” he said curtly. “Mayhap Jordel saw something of worth in you after all. I cannot promise you the girl will enjoy Ammon, but neither will she starve there. I shall put her to work.”
So, on the deck of the Long Claw, they bid each other farewell just after dawn. Annis would scarcely let go of her, although she no longer wept. Then she said her good-bye to Chet, which was somewhat awkward for the both of them, and then to Xain, which was somewhat cool, for Annis could not entirely forget the way he had acted in the battle of Wellmont, or after. Gem she saved for last, and Loren half expected some grand confession to spring from the girl’s mouth. But she only held him close, and made him promise to come for her when he could. Gem, for his part, seemed mostly confused, and said of course he would be with Loren when they all came to fetch her.
Annis watched them go from the dock, and stood waving until she was out of sight. Probably, Loren guessed, she stayed there long afterwards, until she could no longer see her friends, but only the thick black dot of the ship growing smaller and smaller upon the sea. Some time after, she would no doubt shuffle halfheartedly onto Kal’s vessel, there to take passage with him to Dulmun and complete their journey to Ammon.
“Do you think she behaved at all oddly?” said Gem. “It was as though she feared we would never come for her. And twice I thought she meant to say something to me, but both times she closed her mouth again.”
Loren rolled her eyes and turned away from him. That was not a conversation she was at all prepared to begin.
She returned to her cabin once they were upon the water, and there rested upon the pallet that Captain Torik had provided for her, trying to recapture some of the sleep she had missed in the night. But if sleep had been hard when the ship was docked at night, it was much harder under sail when the waves tossed them back and forth. After an hour of fruitless trying, there came a knock at her door, and Xain let himself inside.
“There is something we must discuss before we reach the Seat,” he said. “I have only just thought of it. It concerns your dagger.”
Loren blanched, reaching for its hilt. “Sky above. I did not think of it.”
“I thought not. You cannot march into the High King’s palace with it. It could spell the very end of the Mystics.”
