The Nightblade Epic Volume Two: A Book of Underrealm, page 5
“Mag!” But Albern was too late. She ran straight into the heart of the Shades, blade held aloft, glittering except where it was caked in gore. Sten came two steps behind, trying and failing to match her furious pace.
Albern drew another arrow. His quiver was half-empty. He turned to Loren and Chet with a snarl. “Make use of those bows on your backs, or give me your arrows, but do not stand here idle while she risks her life for yours.” Then he kicked his mount’s flanks and he, too, charged the Shades.
Gem, sitting behind Annis in their saddle, drew his short sword from the belt at his waist. Loren saw it shaking in his hand, but his eyes were hard. “Well, then,” he said. “I had always thought to perish old in bed, but slain in battle seems a fair enough choice.”
“Can you help them?” said Loren, turning to Xain.
He was shaking in his saddle, his hands looking almost too frail even to hold the reins. She knew his answer before he spoke. “My flames are nearly guttered out. I might conjure enough to stop one of them, or two. But even that little effort would exhaust me.”
“Loren?” said Annis, eyes wide with fright. “What do we—”
“Between my horse and Chet’s,” said Loren. She drew forth her bow and nocked an arrow. “Gem, do not dare to strike at them except to save yourself and Annis. Stay close to the others, but above all, stay alive.”
They rode after Albern. Loren drew the fletching all the way back to her ear, and sighted along the shaft. Mag stood against a squadron of foes now, and more were trying to circle around behind her.
Loren aimed for one of them, lowering her bow to strike him in the leg.
Blood dripping from his thigh, a trail of it for miles through the woods.
She tensed as the picture flashed into her mind, and the arrow went wide to rebound from cobblestones. Cursing, she drew another. Beside her, Chet loosed a shaft of his own. It flew true, skewering a soldier’s calf. Beside them, Albern’s bow was singing. Gem sat shaking in his saddle, holding his blade forth as if to ward any of the soldiers from coming too close. But they had no eyes for Loren and the others, only for Mag in their center.
Still she fought on, and her strikes had not slowed. The Shades could not get inside her reach, nor could they approach her from the side unawares, for Sten was with her. At her back he stood, guarding her rear as she guarded his, and if he could not kill as many as she could, still he could keep her from being outflanked. Any who threatened to break his guard soon found themselves with one of Albern’s shafts in their throats.
So intent were the Shades on bringing the warriors down that they had drifted to one side of the street, leaving the other side open. And beyond them, Loren saw that at last they had stopped pouring through the entrance. The way to the Birchwood was clear, at least for her and Xain and the children. But despite their best efforts, Mag was hemmed in now, and the Shades were close to surrounding Albern besides.
“Albern!” cried Loren.
He risked a glance at her, and she pointed at the city’s gate. Quickly his gaze followed, and she saw a light in his eyes. But then he turned back to Mag, and the light went dark.
Sten slipped.
A powerful blow to his shield sent his feet sliding in the blood that slicked the ground. His knee struck the dirt of the street, and a sword flashed around in a wide arc.
He jerked his head back, and for a moment Loren thought he had avoided the blow. Then she saw a red torrent gush from his throat.
Mag was behind him and could not see it, only that he knelt. She gripped his arm and tried to pull him up. Rather than rising, he fell onto his back, his lifeblood bubbling forth.
Mag screamed.
The sound of it was nothing human. Loren had never heard its like before. She knew at once that she would remember it for the rest of her life. For a moment the whole world held its breath. Chet froze with an arrow drawn. Even Gem stopped quaking. Xain had leaned forwards in his saddle, one hand outstretched as though to send forth flame or thunder.
But nothing came. Nothing but the scream, piercing and terrible and filled with rage.
Before it finished, she was already on her feet again, already killing. She pressed into their mass, hacking at them like a woodsman at a cluster of logs. Even with her back unguarded, they could not bring her down, but now at last their strikes found flesh. Loren saw deep red rents appear on her arms. The Uncut Lady, Albern had called her, but no longer. Yet she fought on.
Albern looked back at Loren, and then to the open city gate that now seemed leagues away.
Loren grit her teeth and spurred Midnight forwards to help.
“No!” cried Albern, and she reined up. “Fly, while you still can!”
She wanted to ride into them, and damn her vow not to kill. She would draw Mag from their midst, and the darkness protect any of them that tried to stop her.
A hand gripped her arm. She turned, expecting Chet—but it was Xain instead, and his eyes were grim. “Fly,” he said. “Remember Jordel.”
She ripped off her quiver and raised it, then tossed it to Albern. He caught it with a solemn nod. Then he drew his sword and threw himself into the fight, trying to cut his way through to Mag. But Loren would not watch. Midnight wheeled at her touch, and they spurred to a gallop. In seconds they had passed beyond the city and reached the Birchwood, and Northwood vanished behind the trunks of the trees—this time, mercifully.
THEY DID NOT STOP THEIR mad ride when they reached the trees, but they had to when the sun went down. Loren scarcely noticed, and it was Xain who finally called them to a halt.
She did not understand for a moment, and she looked at him in confusion. It was Chet who spoke first.
“The moons will not rise for hours, Loren.” His voice trembled. “We can ride by their light if we must, but pressing on now is folly.”
Loren stared a moment longer before she heard the words. Then she nodded and slid from the saddle, letting Midnight wander.
She set off through the trees, away from the others, eyes wide to catch every mote of starlight and avoid a stumble. But she did not see the forest around her. Rather, she saw only a ghostly and wispy aspect of it, just enough for her feet to avoid upturned roots and stones. Instead of the trees and the silvery starlight, she saw Albern’s charge, and Mag’s skin covered in wounds, and Sten’s slashed throat.
It was some time before she could muster her thoughts. When she did, she realized she had wandered far from where the others had stopped. She turned to retrace her steps, and when she found their camp again they had started a small fire beneath the trees. Part of her wanted to douse it, to keep them hidden in case they were pursued. But she could not muster the strength to care for so small a thing.
Chet sat alone, outside the fire’s light. His knees were pulled up against his chest, and his arms lay across them. He seemed to be looking at the firelight, but his gaze was far away, as though he saw nothing at all.
A sharp pang in her gut reminded her she had not eaten for hours. She went to Midnight’s saddlebag to fetch some meat and bread.
Something went clink as she opened the saddlebag. Her brow furrowed. When she lifted the flap, she saw a small coin purse. It was her spare, the one she had given to Mag. Slowly she untied the strings and poured the contents into her hand. Ten gold weights sat there, gleaming in the firelight. She stared at them for a while. Then she put them back in the purse and put the purse in the saddlebag.
Her appetite had vanished, so she closed the bag again and went to sit by the fire. But by the time she reached it, she did not want to rest, so she kept walking past it and over to Chet. She had nearly reached him before he noticed her and looked up.
“You should eat,” he said. “I suppose I should, too.”
“I tried. Will you walk with me?”
He shrugged and stood to go with her. Together they went back into the darkness—only to her surprise, Loren found it easier to see, and she realized with a start that the moons had risen. She had spent more time alone than she thought.
Chet stopped and heaved a shuddering breath. When she looked to him, she saw his shoulders shaking gently. She laid her hand on his back and turned him around. Once he faced her again, she saw his cheeks wet with tears.
“They did not even seem to care who they killed,” he said. “I saw children fall beneath their blades.”
“So it often is when armies sack cities,” said Loren. “Or so I have heard. I was there for the battle of Wellmont, but the city held. There was no killing in the streets.”
He looked away and cleared his throat. When he spoke again, she could hear him trying to sound carefree, as though his tears were not there. “You all hardly blinked as you rode through it,” he said. “I thought I would die of fright.”
“We have seen killing before,” said Loren. “Some of us more than others.”
“I am sorry about Albern. I knew him only a few days, but he seemed to have a good heart. Mag and Sten, as well.”
“They did,” said Loren.
He swiped a hand across his eyes, but tried to make it seem like he was only wiping sweat from his brow. “Loren, we must get away from here. We should ride into Dorsea and vanish where no one will find us. If that army came to Northwood looking for you, and was willing to sack the city just to find you, they will not stop pursuing you now.”
“That is why we must ride east, to warn the Mystics of their coming.”
“Will they not expect that?” said Chet. “Will they not hunt us all along the road?”
“That does not matter,” said Loren. “It is the duty I have taken upon myself. I have been hunted before.”
“Duty?” said Chet. His voice had gone high and hysterical. “Why would you wish this upon yourself? I thought to travel with you, not die beside you. Oh, I know that all the nine lands may be dangerous, but this is another thing altogether. Did you not spend enough time, unhappy and trapped by your parents, out of some misplaced sense of duty?”
“That was nothing I chose,” said Loren. “But this is my life now. It has been almost since the moment I left the Birchwood. Doom follows in my footsteps. That is why I urged you not to come with us. Even now I urge you to turn away, to let your tracks lead you home.”
He stood there, looking at her in fear, and with a sinking heart she realized he was considering it. But at last he looked away and shook his head. “No. I said I would come with you. Who could call me anything but faithless, if I turned away because the road grew dark?”
“Who cares what anyone would call you?” said Loren. “I would happily have you by my side, but I would rather see you safe.”
“And I you,” he said. “That is why we should go, and now. Let others tend to duty. You and I have spent all our lives as its victims.”
“I cannot,” she said, in a small voice. “I owe it to him—to Jordel.”
Chet looked as if he might say more, but then her stomach gave a gurgle. He stopped, collected himself, and shook his head. “We should eat. The road will grow darker still if we find ourselves starving upon it.”
“I said I am not hungry.”
“Hungry or not, I think you can swallow. Come.”
They made their way back to the firelight. By the time they reached it, Chet seemed to have shaken off the darkness in his mind. Loren wondered if it had been so easy for her, the first time.
When she had first seen men killed in anger, it had been with the merchant caravan where she met Annis. Annis’ mother, the merchant Damaris, had ordered a company of constables to be killed to preserve the secrecy of the goods she was smuggling. Loren remembered her horror at the senseless slaughter, at how the merchant had forced her to help dig graves for all the bodies. But looking back on it now, she hardly blinked at the thought of the constables dying. She had seen so much since then, so much worse, so much more frightening.
And yet she could not banish from her mind what had happened during the battle. She had chosen her target, and then had hesitated. The thought of her father’s corpse had flashed into her mind, and the shot had gone wide. Mayhap, if she had been able to fire the arrow …
But such thoughts were ridiculous. There had been scores of Shades. Her arrow would not have made a difference. All the arrows in her quiver would not have made a difference.
Yet mayhap she could have done something. For one brief, thrilling moment, she had meant to charge in and rescue Mag by whatever means she could. She knew, looking back on it, she would not have hesitated to spill blood. That prospect terrified her—and yet it made her wonder again: why did she still hold so tightly to that ideal, when she had already taken a life?
That was different, she told herself.
Gem and Annis had eaten already, and lounged at the fire’s edge while staring into its heart. Loren had not seen Xain touch his food, but then the wizard’s appetite did not seem very great these days. He, too, watched the flames, but every few seconds he would look over his shoulder into the darkness beyond their camp. When he saw Loren and Chet return, his eyes flashed with interest.
“Good,” he said. “We must discuss what we plan to do next.”
“I myself am most curious about that,” said Gem. “We have made our escape, and a narrow one. But what now?”
“We must warn the Mystics,” said Loren.
“We know that,” said Annis, “but where do we mean to go? South to Cabrus? The High King’s Seat? I do not relish either of those choices, for my family would be thick about us. And you will remember that even Jordel did not trust all those of his order. How will we know the right redcloaks to speak to, and which ones will ignore our warnings to hang us as criminals instead?”
“If you will remember, Jordel told us where he meant to go,” said Xain. “His stronghold of Ammon, in Feldemar. He told me where it lies, and that is where I think we must lay our course. His master lives there—a man named Kal, of the family Endil.”
“And you think this man can be trusted?” said Loren. “Have you met him?”
“I trust few, Mystics least of all,” said Xain. “But this, at least, we owe Jordel: to deliver his message to his master, and let the Mystics do what they may with the tale.”
“But how shall we get there?” said Loren. “I have scarcely any idea how to make our way to Feldemar. I know only that it is north and east of Selvan.”
“A far ways north and east, yes,” said Xain. “Ammon is in Feldemar, and somewhat near the northern shore of the Great Bay. I visited that kingdom once in my youth. Ships travel to that area from all ports on the Bay.”
“The King’s road, then?” said Gem. “We could take it to the Seat, or Garsec, Selvan’s capital.”
“That would be like walking into the lion’s den,” cried Annis. “We would certainly be spotted, and then I would be taken by my family. The rest of you would not be so lucky. You would likely take long in the killing.”
“No, Garsec and the Seat seem poor choices both,” said Xain. “But there are other ports in Selvan, ports farther south along the Bay, from where we might sail. But traveling there would take a long while, and the voyage would be longer besides. No, I think we must sail from Dorsea.”
Loren blinked, gawking at him in the firelight. “Dorsea? Have magestones addled your mind so much, wizard? They are at war with Selvan, and no safe place for us to wander. Especially since, as you have all pointed out so carefully, I speak like a child of Selvan birth. Chet is from my village, and most likely has the same accent.”
“Yes,” said Gem and Annis at once.
“Accent?” said Chet.
“That was true enough when we set out from Wellmont,” said Xain. “But now the war is far away, in the southwest corner of the kingdom. Likely those in the northeast of Selvan have hardly heard of the fighting. Citizens of Dorsea will be even less concerned, so far away from the conflict. And so close to the border between the two kingdoms, we will find many families with both Selvan and Dorsean kin. Your quaint voices will scarcely bear mention.”
“So that is our plan, then?” said Annis. “We will strike north into Dorsea, then travel east until we reach the coast? I daresay I like it better than the thought of riding to the Seat, where, if I have my way, I will never set foot again in this life.”
“It seems a prudent course,” said Gem.
Chet’s eyes lit up, and he turned to Loren. “Mayhap—or mayhap there is another way. Traveling across the open country of Dorsea poses its own dangers, and we do not know the land. But there is another road to the coast of the Great Bay. And it is a road for which we already have two guides.”
Loren caught his meaning at once. “The Birchwood.”
“What of it?” said Gem.
“It runs all the way to the Bay. And Chet and I know it well. Mayhap we are not woodsmen so great as—” She stopped short just before she said Albern. “—as some others. But this is our home. I do not think the Shades can follow us beneath these trees.”
“If there is one thing we should have learned by now, it is not to underestimate our foes,” said Xain darkly. “Think of this. The Shades attacked Northwood from the west, but also from the north. They have been gathering in strength, much greater strength than we knew. Where did they all come from? They did not conjure so many soldiers from thin air. They are men and women of these lands, of Selvan and Dorsea and likely other kingdoms besides. And if they know we have fled into the forest, they will send trackers after us who know it as well as the two of you.”
“You think any Selvans fight on their side?” said Loren angrily. “You think they would march into one of their own cities and murder their fellows in the streets? I think you know little of our kingdom.”
“And you think too highly of your fellows,” snapped Xain. “Mayhap they were starving, and the Shades gave them coin. Mayhap their homes were ravaged by war, and the Shades offered them safety. Mayhap they were dying from plague, and the Shades provided refuge. And mayhap their suffering was not at the hands of some whimsical fate, but their fellow citizens of Selvan. Do you think, then, that they would stay their blades?”
