Silverkin, page 11
“He’s safe? Good, her Highness was anxious.”
Thealos tried to see who had said that, but his escorts shoved him ahead and through a set of iron-shod doors leading into a stairwell down. Blue stones in the wall inlets offered pallid light. Thealos’ heart hammered in his chest. The steps leveled off down a narrow corridor. He felt the whispering of strong Silvan magic churning through the stone before him. As they turned a corner, they were met by searing blue light that reminded him of the tunnels beneath Landmoor. The light was blinding in its intensity.
“Go through.”
Thealos stepped through the warding and the light muted.
Laisha was pale, her eyes shadowed. Lucyanna was at her sister’s side, her little hands gripping the folds of her sister’s skirts fiercely. Warders stood throughout the comfortable chamber, some conferring in sharp whispers. He felt them brimming full of earth magic.
A Crimson Wolfsman spoke to Laisha and turned when Thealos entered. It was Xenon, the man who had dragged Thealos across the Shoreland at the behest of Elder Nordain. A pit of fury and resentment welled up in his stomach.
“What is he doing here?” Thealos said. “What is going on?”
Laisha closed her eyes, shaking her head as if she were in a dream.
Xenon turned and faced Thealos. His face was livid, dripping with sweat as if he had run a great distance. He wiped his mouth on a gloved hand and it trembled. “Her Highness is here for protection.”
A chill formed inside Thealos’ stomach.
“A thing of Forbidden magic entered the forest south of Avisahn before dawn. We began hunting it at once, but it was swift. Too swift for us. It came straight to the city, to the heart before we could get near enough to ring the bells. It…it stopped…at a home. They’re dead. All of them. They’re dead.”
Laisha opened her eyes and stared at Thealos in horror. “I’m so sorry, Thealos.”
Chapter XI
"It was my home?” Thealos was amazed he could shove the words past the thickening in his throat.
Xenon nodded once.
It did not feel real. It was some hoax—a trick. Thinking of it was worse than a boot in the ribs. He heard his heart pounding like drums in his ears. His family was gone? Even little Arielle? No, that could not be right. Something would have stopped it. Something should have stopped it.
Thealos turned away from them as the tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to wrestle free beneath the weight of his feelings. Correl and Sorrel….his brothers…sweet Arielle.
Words wreathed in fire came to his mind. He did not know what released the memory from the background shadows of his mind. He had stood before a Bandit commander in the governor’s palace of Landmoor. Your death is hardly of any consequence to me. Thealos had replied that it was—that the Shae army would descend on the Shoreland in fury if he were killed. Maybe I’m counting on that.
A hand on his shoulder—a soft touch. Twisting his neck, he saw it was Laisha.
“I’m sorry, Thealos. You asked to see them again and again. I didn’t let you. I should have let you.”
He felt …broken inside. A cup shattered to pieces. “If I had been there with your permission, my lady, I would be dead right now as well.” A pitcher of water or wine sat on a table nearby, and he quelled the violent urge to strike it. To start kicking and punching and thrashing on the floor. Anything to act out the madness ringing in his ears.
“You are safe here, Thealos,” she said, reaching out with her other hand and smoothing some hair from his shoulder. She looked conflicted, as if resisting the impulse to hug him and comfort him. “It will not be able to cross the warding. I’ll send someone else to Landmoor…”
“No.”
He whirled and caught her hand and squeezed it, boring his gaze into her deep eyes. They were nearly the same height. He felt her try to tug her hand away, but he gripped even stronger.
“It was sent to Avisahn to kill me. I have no doubt about that. How many other Shae will it kill trying to hunt me in here? I don’t know what strength your Warders have…or how many Crimson Wolfsmen it would take to bring it down. But I do know that the Silverkin will destroy it, and that is a weapon we do not have in our hands.” He saw her draw in a breath to speak, and he stepped closer, pulling her in. “Listen to me, Laisha. I must leave Avisahn. Right now—with no delay. Send some Wolfsmen with me and a Warder. We will start the journey south to Landmoor and draw this abomination after us. Prepare another heir of Quicksilver to leave as well. Another if necessary. But I must leave Avisahn. Staying here will endanger every person in this city. You know this is true. Give the order.”
She squeezed his hand, tears dewing up on her lashes. “Are you sure you want to do this? I would rather send an army to protect you.”
He felt her breath on his chin. “I wouldn’t mind an army. But they will move too slow and I know the way to Landmoor. A smaller group will be easier to slip into the city. But we’ll need help once we take the Silverkin. We need to know the army is coming behind us.”
“You’re right. You’re right. It will come. I promise you.”
Thealos lifted their entwined hands and kissed hers. “Thank you.”
“No—thank you. You show great courage, Thealos Quickfellow.” Her fingers tightened in his. “I’m truly sorry. You will never want or lack for anything. This sacrifice you make for our people will never be forgotten.”
His mouth tingled. Suddenly, he realized that everyone was staring at them and felt an awkward blush rise to his cheeks. Thoughts swirled and churned inside of him. Loss of his parents and family. A new beginning in Avisahn. An opportunity to get to know her better—to be chosen by her instead of forced on her. A premonition signaled through the current.
Unless he died on the journey. And that was a very real possibility.
He nearly kissed her, not knowing if he would ever again have the chance. He had taken a liberty like that with Stasy, but he dared not with a queen.
“When I come back,” he said, “promise me you won’t confine me any more.”
“Not unless you betray me. Go, Thealos. Quickly!” She turned to Xenon. “Ready your men, Lor Xenon. I’m sending you back to the Shoreland.”
* * *
“This way, Thealos. Over here.”
Abtalion raised a blue stone and it shone against the stone underwall of the palace. He traced the corner with his finger and then released a hidden catch and the wall opened. Xenon looked both ways and plunged into the darkness of the tunnel with the first quaere. Their leaf-bladed swords illuminated the dark.
Thealos started to follow, but Abtalion gripped his shoulder. “Laisha asked me to prepare these for you. Here is a travel pack with bedding, clothes, and boots. You can change on the barge. This bundle is a…”
“A bow,” Thealos said, recognizing the dimensions and the wrapping style. “Thank you.”
“This one is a sword,” Abtalion said, handing over another one. “It belonged to Laisha’s brother. Take good care of it—she’ll want to see it again when you return. Remember—take the Silverkin and return with it to Avisahn. Our first obligation is to defend the Shae. Use it if you must down there, but remember the warning in the archive texts. It can kill you if the danger is too great.”
“Thank you, chancellor. I won’t forget. How close to the docks will this tunnel take us?”
“It will take you all the way to the docks. There are other escape passages out of the palace as well. A barge is being fitted with supplies and weapons as we speak. It will be ready to launch when you get there.”
“Thank you. Keep her safe, chancellor.”
“That I leave to the Wolfsmen. I don’t believe the Sunedrion will need any more coaxing from us. Go now—Xenon is scowling at me.”
Thealos nodded and hefted the bundles and jogged after the Crimson Wolfsmen. Another quaere filed in behind him and the escape tunnel door was sealed shut again by Abtalion. Running through the darkness of the tunnels reminded him of his flight from the dungeons beneath Landmoor. In his mind, he heard Secrist’s howls trailing after as he pulled Ticastasy with him. Thoughts of her sent stabs of doubt and guilt through him. Their friendship had been based on a falsehood—the idea that he was a Silvan prince from Avisahn. Now he ran with the sword of one bundled up in a scabbard.
The air of the tunnel was musty and stale. He heard the boot echoes from before and behind him. Each of his protectors had been trained half a lifetime in the arts of war. As a barter’s son himself, Thealos felt more than a little inadequate.
“It’s a long run…pace yourself,” one of the Wolfsmen told him.
Thealos hardly felt winded, even after being confined for several days. His strength had returned and he felt well rested.
The tunnel zigzagged slightly, bearing at sharp angles and changing slope as they progressed. The blue glare from the Wolfsmen blades ahead became a rhythmic pulse and pace. Then all four weapons flared and flashed, in front and behind.
“What’s wrong?” Thealos huffed.
“The thing just crossed one of the wardings.” Xenon did not sound winded at all. He snarled a curse. “Killed the Warder stationed there. Our brothers pursue it.”
Another Shae killed by the thing. Anger seethed through him. He increased his pace and managed to keep up with the lead Wolfsman.
The tunnel ended in an empty cellar. The air was thick and cloying and made Thealos gag as he struggled to catch his breath. Xenon hurried up some wooden rungs and pushed up a trapdoor. The smell of the river engulfed them as they took turns up the ladder. Wolfsmen disguised as dock workers converged on the place and conferred quickly with Xenon.
The Lor nodded and turned to the others. “It’s coming this way. Get on the barge. Quickly! Warder—secure the tunnel!”
Thealos smelled the sweetness of Earth magic as it surged within the docks. He followed Xenon’s quaere into the cloudy mid-day light and down the planks of wood to the lower docks.
Shrill whistles sounded in the air just before the first wave of stench struck them. The smell of the Forbidden magic engulfed the docks like a shroud. It was as if the sun went black.
“Run!”
Thealos pounded down the steps and hurtled around an awkward dock piling, sprinting down the length of the pier to the stocky barge moored at the end. The stagnant reek of the magic attacked all his senses. It was not as horrid as the magic of a Sorian, but it was darkness and filth and struck fear inside his heart. This was the thing that had destroyed his family. Had murdered them.
He ran down the boarding rails and had reached the deck of the barge before Wolfsmen grabbed his arms and hauled him into the deck tent. Other Wolfsmen landed on the deck in succession, sounding like boulders down a mountain. The normally sweet smells of the harbor were staunched by the oppressiveness of the Forbidden magic.
“Shove off! Catch the current!” Xenon shouted.
His heart thundered inside his chest. Quickly he unwrapped the bundle with the sword, wondering if he would need to use it already. His palms were sweaty, so he scrubbed them against his pants and stared down at the weapon. The hilt was long enough for two hands, battered and scarred.
With a wrenching feeling, the barge drifted away from the docks and slowly increased in speed.
He heard the Wolfsmen outside the tent, quickly taking positions.
“There it is!”
“I don’t see it!”
Bowstrings hummed outside, sending their slender shafts like eagles.
“It’s too fast!”
Thealos tried to leave the tent to see what was happening, but a rough hand shoved him backwards and he tripped and went down.
Something huge and heavy struck the corner of the barge and sent it spinning. Thealos stayed on his stomach, wondering if it had managed to board them. There was no tingling awareness on the back of his neck—no sense that a Sleepwalker waited to protect him. He swallowed the nausea roiling in his stomach as the barge continued to spin.
“In the water! There!”
The bowstrings twanged again, but there was no sound to mark that it had been hit.
“Keasorn strengthen us!”
“No, it’s moving away from us. Go around, we’re still drifting. Look—it’s going to the shore.”
“No, it went under. I don’t see it anymore.”
Thealos propped himself up on his hands and crawled to the flap of the tent. It took several minutes of the Wolfsmen fighting the barge to straighten it out again. The reek of the Forbidden magic faded away.
But Thealos knew it hunted him still.
* * *
The tent flap opened and Xenon ducked inside. Thealos sat atop an iron-bound chest and faced the man for the first time in nearly a week. He remembered being gagged on the Lor’s orders. A spark of triumph flared inside, yet he was still uneasy. Any other Crimson Wolfsman would not have intimidated him, but this one did.
“It’s nearly dusk, Xenon. Can I get some air yet?”
A mocking smile came to the other’s mouth. “I don’t dare it, boy. You can still feel it out there, can’t you?”
Thealos bristled at his condescension but kept it from his voice. “It’s on the other side of the river, following us from the shore. I can barely smell it in here.”
“You should be grateful for that then.”
“What did it look like?”
Xenon shrugged. “It’s made of shadows…and wind. You feel it more than see it. Firekin, boy. It’s Firekin at its worst. But at least it is not on our side of the river.”
“I’m glad you said that, Xenon. It is our side of the river.”
Xenon made a face, as if he’d stepped in horse dung. “I sorrow for your family, boy, but not for you. You brought that curse to Avisahn, they didn’t. In my opinion, it should have killed you first.”
Thealos rose to his feet, but Xenon pushed him back down.
“I want to make something very clear to you, boy. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust the Sleepwalker who robbed you from us. I don’t know what spell you may have done on the princess, but maybe she will awaken from it with you gone. I pray to Keasorn that is so. Don’t bother me, boy. Don’t interfere. This is my assignment.”
“You don’t know the first thing that this is about, Xenon. I see you haven’t learned to listen since I left you.”
“Since you left? You take too much credit for yourself. You always have. You’re nothing without the Sleepwalker. Don’t think that I’m blind to that, boy.”
Thealos glared at him. “Oh, I know that I’m nothing to you, Xenon. I’m the king of linseed oil. But it doesn’t matter what you think. I know who I am. You will not always want me to be your enemy.”
“I very much doubt that,” Xenon said with a snort. “Stay indoors. I don’t know if this thing of Firekin can hurl a spear. We go to the port of Jan Lee.”
Thealos shook his head. “Sol is closer.”
“There you go starting it again. I command this mission. We go to Jan Lee. You’ve caused enough deaths already.” Xenon turned and slipped outside the tent flap into the darkening dusk sky.
Thealos was left alone with his thoughts again. Xenon’s words hurt. The man had a knack for causing pain. Much of what he had said was true—though tipped with poison. In the quiet, he thought about what had happened to his family. Xenon was right about that. They had died because of him. He had unknowingly returned to Avisahn with a plague at his heels. Had he known that, he would have insisted they be sheltered in the palace.
Had Jaerod known it would happen? How had they died? Like Sturnin Goff to Deathbane? The thought of his little sister shriveling to black ash sent a lance of pain right through his body.
“Arielle,” he whispered. What have I done?
The full weight of his grief crushed down on his shoulders.
A sob spilled out, and he clamped his mouth. More started to bubble up inside him, and he tried crushing them down lest the Wolfsmen hear. Where were the Three gods to protect the Shae? Why hadn’t the wardings protecting Avisahn worked? Tears burned in his eyes, and he let them run down his cheeks. He covered his mouth and nose, doing his best to muffle the sound. Not sweet little Arielle. He would never see her again. Never hear the sound of her little voice. He didn’t even have the hoppit doll she had given him the night he had left Avisahn. There would never be a chance to tell them all how much he loved them. The pain of that thought was unbearable.
He remembered Lucyanna’s gift and fumbled in the pouch at his waist for the one she had called the Whisper Stone. Its magic pricked his palm, then it enshrouded him in silence. In his mind, the image of her brown eyes blurred with Arielle’s as he wept.
Chapter XII
Exeres drifted in pools of sleep, too exhausted to push for the surface and awaken. He did not want to, for a terrible storm raged beyond and he would be safe as long as he remained deep in the waters. The summoning of the Vocus had utterly drained him. He had pulled too much Earth magic into himself. Warnings during his training as a Druid priest flitted through his hazy thoughts. Taming and releasing too much Earth magic could paralyze a man for days. The body still needed food and water. One could die before awakening. It had happened to other Druid priests, found dead in the woodlands—wasted away.
Yet there was some degree of thought left open to him. Part of him nudged through the space. Like a door opening in his mind, the vision rose up—the dream that had haunted his entire life. A cage made of glass and gold stays. A woman trapped inside it. Reaching out, he touched the smooth barrier with his palm. The glass was warm, cloudy.
The woman in the cage stirred and looked up at him. He saw the mass of golden curls shift from her shoulders.
—You’ve come again—
Had she spoken to him before? He could not remember. Or was that part of the dream that always faded when he awoke each morning?
“Who are you?” Exeres asked.
Thealos tried to see who had said that, but his escorts shoved him ahead and through a set of iron-shod doors leading into a stairwell down. Blue stones in the wall inlets offered pallid light. Thealos’ heart hammered in his chest. The steps leveled off down a narrow corridor. He felt the whispering of strong Silvan magic churning through the stone before him. As they turned a corner, they were met by searing blue light that reminded him of the tunnels beneath Landmoor. The light was blinding in its intensity.
“Go through.”
Thealos stepped through the warding and the light muted.
Laisha was pale, her eyes shadowed. Lucyanna was at her sister’s side, her little hands gripping the folds of her sister’s skirts fiercely. Warders stood throughout the comfortable chamber, some conferring in sharp whispers. He felt them brimming full of earth magic.
A Crimson Wolfsman spoke to Laisha and turned when Thealos entered. It was Xenon, the man who had dragged Thealos across the Shoreland at the behest of Elder Nordain. A pit of fury and resentment welled up in his stomach.
“What is he doing here?” Thealos said. “What is going on?”
Laisha closed her eyes, shaking her head as if she were in a dream.
Xenon turned and faced Thealos. His face was livid, dripping with sweat as if he had run a great distance. He wiped his mouth on a gloved hand and it trembled. “Her Highness is here for protection.”
A chill formed inside Thealos’ stomach.
“A thing of Forbidden magic entered the forest south of Avisahn before dawn. We began hunting it at once, but it was swift. Too swift for us. It came straight to the city, to the heart before we could get near enough to ring the bells. It…it stopped…at a home. They’re dead. All of them. They’re dead.”
Laisha opened her eyes and stared at Thealos in horror. “I’m so sorry, Thealos.”
Chapter XI
"It was my home?” Thealos was amazed he could shove the words past the thickening in his throat.
Xenon nodded once.
It did not feel real. It was some hoax—a trick. Thinking of it was worse than a boot in the ribs. He heard his heart pounding like drums in his ears. His family was gone? Even little Arielle? No, that could not be right. Something would have stopped it. Something should have stopped it.
Thealos turned away from them as the tears stung his eyes. He blinked them away, trying to wrestle free beneath the weight of his feelings. Correl and Sorrel….his brothers…sweet Arielle.
Words wreathed in fire came to his mind. He did not know what released the memory from the background shadows of his mind. He had stood before a Bandit commander in the governor’s palace of Landmoor. Your death is hardly of any consequence to me. Thealos had replied that it was—that the Shae army would descend on the Shoreland in fury if he were killed. Maybe I’m counting on that.
A hand on his shoulder—a soft touch. Twisting his neck, he saw it was Laisha.
“I’m sorry, Thealos. You asked to see them again and again. I didn’t let you. I should have let you.”
He felt …broken inside. A cup shattered to pieces. “If I had been there with your permission, my lady, I would be dead right now as well.” A pitcher of water or wine sat on a table nearby, and he quelled the violent urge to strike it. To start kicking and punching and thrashing on the floor. Anything to act out the madness ringing in his ears.
“You are safe here, Thealos,” she said, reaching out with her other hand and smoothing some hair from his shoulder. She looked conflicted, as if resisting the impulse to hug him and comfort him. “It will not be able to cross the warding. I’ll send someone else to Landmoor…”
“No.”
He whirled and caught her hand and squeezed it, boring his gaze into her deep eyes. They were nearly the same height. He felt her try to tug her hand away, but he gripped even stronger.
“It was sent to Avisahn to kill me. I have no doubt about that. How many other Shae will it kill trying to hunt me in here? I don’t know what strength your Warders have…or how many Crimson Wolfsmen it would take to bring it down. But I do know that the Silverkin will destroy it, and that is a weapon we do not have in our hands.” He saw her draw in a breath to speak, and he stepped closer, pulling her in. “Listen to me, Laisha. I must leave Avisahn. Right now—with no delay. Send some Wolfsmen with me and a Warder. We will start the journey south to Landmoor and draw this abomination after us. Prepare another heir of Quicksilver to leave as well. Another if necessary. But I must leave Avisahn. Staying here will endanger every person in this city. You know this is true. Give the order.”
She squeezed his hand, tears dewing up on her lashes. “Are you sure you want to do this? I would rather send an army to protect you.”
He felt her breath on his chin. “I wouldn’t mind an army. But they will move too slow and I know the way to Landmoor. A smaller group will be easier to slip into the city. But we’ll need help once we take the Silverkin. We need to know the army is coming behind us.”
“You’re right. You’re right. It will come. I promise you.”
Thealos lifted their entwined hands and kissed hers. “Thank you.”
“No—thank you. You show great courage, Thealos Quickfellow.” Her fingers tightened in his. “I’m truly sorry. You will never want or lack for anything. This sacrifice you make for our people will never be forgotten.”
His mouth tingled. Suddenly, he realized that everyone was staring at them and felt an awkward blush rise to his cheeks. Thoughts swirled and churned inside of him. Loss of his parents and family. A new beginning in Avisahn. An opportunity to get to know her better—to be chosen by her instead of forced on her. A premonition signaled through the current.
Unless he died on the journey. And that was a very real possibility.
He nearly kissed her, not knowing if he would ever again have the chance. He had taken a liberty like that with Stasy, but he dared not with a queen.
“When I come back,” he said, “promise me you won’t confine me any more.”
“Not unless you betray me. Go, Thealos. Quickly!” She turned to Xenon. “Ready your men, Lor Xenon. I’m sending you back to the Shoreland.”
* * *
“This way, Thealos. Over here.”
Abtalion raised a blue stone and it shone against the stone underwall of the palace. He traced the corner with his finger and then released a hidden catch and the wall opened. Xenon looked both ways and plunged into the darkness of the tunnel with the first quaere. Their leaf-bladed swords illuminated the dark.
Thealos started to follow, but Abtalion gripped his shoulder. “Laisha asked me to prepare these for you. Here is a travel pack with bedding, clothes, and boots. You can change on the barge. This bundle is a…”
“A bow,” Thealos said, recognizing the dimensions and the wrapping style. “Thank you.”
“This one is a sword,” Abtalion said, handing over another one. “It belonged to Laisha’s brother. Take good care of it—she’ll want to see it again when you return. Remember—take the Silverkin and return with it to Avisahn. Our first obligation is to defend the Shae. Use it if you must down there, but remember the warning in the archive texts. It can kill you if the danger is too great.”
“Thank you, chancellor. I won’t forget. How close to the docks will this tunnel take us?”
“It will take you all the way to the docks. There are other escape passages out of the palace as well. A barge is being fitted with supplies and weapons as we speak. It will be ready to launch when you get there.”
“Thank you. Keep her safe, chancellor.”
“That I leave to the Wolfsmen. I don’t believe the Sunedrion will need any more coaxing from us. Go now—Xenon is scowling at me.”
Thealos nodded and hefted the bundles and jogged after the Crimson Wolfsmen. Another quaere filed in behind him and the escape tunnel door was sealed shut again by Abtalion. Running through the darkness of the tunnels reminded him of his flight from the dungeons beneath Landmoor. In his mind, he heard Secrist’s howls trailing after as he pulled Ticastasy with him. Thoughts of her sent stabs of doubt and guilt through him. Their friendship had been based on a falsehood—the idea that he was a Silvan prince from Avisahn. Now he ran with the sword of one bundled up in a scabbard.
The air of the tunnel was musty and stale. He heard the boot echoes from before and behind him. Each of his protectors had been trained half a lifetime in the arts of war. As a barter’s son himself, Thealos felt more than a little inadequate.
“It’s a long run…pace yourself,” one of the Wolfsmen told him.
Thealos hardly felt winded, even after being confined for several days. His strength had returned and he felt well rested.
The tunnel zigzagged slightly, bearing at sharp angles and changing slope as they progressed. The blue glare from the Wolfsmen blades ahead became a rhythmic pulse and pace. Then all four weapons flared and flashed, in front and behind.
“What’s wrong?” Thealos huffed.
“The thing just crossed one of the wardings.” Xenon did not sound winded at all. He snarled a curse. “Killed the Warder stationed there. Our brothers pursue it.”
Another Shae killed by the thing. Anger seethed through him. He increased his pace and managed to keep up with the lead Wolfsman.
The tunnel ended in an empty cellar. The air was thick and cloying and made Thealos gag as he struggled to catch his breath. Xenon hurried up some wooden rungs and pushed up a trapdoor. The smell of the river engulfed them as they took turns up the ladder. Wolfsmen disguised as dock workers converged on the place and conferred quickly with Xenon.
The Lor nodded and turned to the others. “It’s coming this way. Get on the barge. Quickly! Warder—secure the tunnel!”
Thealos smelled the sweetness of Earth magic as it surged within the docks. He followed Xenon’s quaere into the cloudy mid-day light and down the planks of wood to the lower docks.
Shrill whistles sounded in the air just before the first wave of stench struck them. The smell of the Forbidden magic engulfed the docks like a shroud. It was as if the sun went black.
“Run!”
Thealos pounded down the steps and hurtled around an awkward dock piling, sprinting down the length of the pier to the stocky barge moored at the end. The stagnant reek of the magic attacked all his senses. It was not as horrid as the magic of a Sorian, but it was darkness and filth and struck fear inside his heart. This was the thing that had destroyed his family. Had murdered them.
He ran down the boarding rails and had reached the deck of the barge before Wolfsmen grabbed his arms and hauled him into the deck tent. Other Wolfsmen landed on the deck in succession, sounding like boulders down a mountain. The normally sweet smells of the harbor were staunched by the oppressiveness of the Forbidden magic.
“Shove off! Catch the current!” Xenon shouted.
His heart thundered inside his chest. Quickly he unwrapped the bundle with the sword, wondering if he would need to use it already. His palms were sweaty, so he scrubbed them against his pants and stared down at the weapon. The hilt was long enough for two hands, battered and scarred.
With a wrenching feeling, the barge drifted away from the docks and slowly increased in speed.
He heard the Wolfsmen outside the tent, quickly taking positions.
“There it is!”
“I don’t see it!”
Bowstrings hummed outside, sending their slender shafts like eagles.
“It’s too fast!”
Thealos tried to leave the tent to see what was happening, but a rough hand shoved him backwards and he tripped and went down.
Something huge and heavy struck the corner of the barge and sent it spinning. Thealos stayed on his stomach, wondering if it had managed to board them. There was no tingling awareness on the back of his neck—no sense that a Sleepwalker waited to protect him. He swallowed the nausea roiling in his stomach as the barge continued to spin.
“In the water! There!”
The bowstrings twanged again, but there was no sound to mark that it had been hit.
“Keasorn strengthen us!”
“No, it’s moving away from us. Go around, we’re still drifting. Look—it’s going to the shore.”
“No, it went under. I don’t see it anymore.”
Thealos propped himself up on his hands and crawled to the flap of the tent. It took several minutes of the Wolfsmen fighting the barge to straighten it out again. The reek of the Forbidden magic faded away.
But Thealos knew it hunted him still.
* * *
The tent flap opened and Xenon ducked inside. Thealos sat atop an iron-bound chest and faced the man for the first time in nearly a week. He remembered being gagged on the Lor’s orders. A spark of triumph flared inside, yet he was still uneasy. Any other Crimson Wolfsman would not have intimidated him, but this one did.
“It’s nearly dusk, Xenon. Can I get some air yet?”
A mocking smile came to the other’s mouth. “I don’t dare it, boy. You can still feel it out there, can’t you?”
Thealos bristled at his condescension but kept it from his voice. “It’s on the other side of the river, following us from the shore. I can barely smell it in here.”
“You should be grateful for that then.”
“What did it look like?”
Xenon shrugged. “It’s made of shadows…and wind. You feel it more than see it. Firekin, boy. It’s Firekin at its worst. But at least it is not on our side of the river.”
“I’m glad you said that, Xenon. It is our side of the river.”
Xenon made a face, as if he’d stepped in horse dung. “I sorrow for your family, boy, but not for you. You brought that curse to Avisahn, they didn’t. In my opinion, it should have killed you first.”
Thealos rose to his feet, but Xenon pushed him back down.
“I want to make something very clear to you, boy. I don’t trust you. I don’t trust the Sleepwalker who robbed you from us. I don’t know what spell you may have done on the princess, but maybe she will awaken from it with you gone. I pray to Keasorn that is so. Don’t bother me, boy. Don’t interfere. This is my assignment.”
“You don’t know the first thing that this is about, Xenon. I see you haven’t learned to listen since I left you.”
“Since you left? You take too much credit for yourself. You always have. You’re nothing without the Sleepwalker. Don’t think that I’m blind to that, boy.”
Thealos glared at him. “Oh, I know that I’m nothing to you, Xenon. I’m the king of linseed oil. But it doesn’t matter what you think. I know who I am. You will not always want me to be your enemy.”
“I very much doubt that,” Xenon said with a snort. “Stay indoors. I don’t know if this thing of Firekin can hurl a spear. We go to the port of Jan Lee.”
Thealos shook his head. “Sol is closer.”
“There you go starting it again. I command this mission. We go to Jan Lee. You’ve caused enough deaths already.” Xenon turned and slipped outside the tent flap into the darkening dusk sky.
Thealos was left alone with his thoughts again. Xenon’s words hurt. The man had a knack for causing pain. Much of what he had said was true—though tipped with poison. In the quiet, he thought about what had happened to his family. Xenon was right about that. They had died because of him. He had unknowingly returned to Avisahn with a plague at his heels. Had he known that, he would have insisted they be sheltered in the palace.
Had Jaerod known it would happen? How had they died? Like Sturnin Goff to Deathbane? The thought of his little sister shriveling to black ash sent a lance of pain right through his body.
“Arielle,” he whispered. What have I done?
The full weight of his grief crushed down on his shoulders.
A sob spilled out, and he clamped his mouth. More started to bubble up inside him, and he tried crushing them down lest the Wolfsmen hear. Where were the Three gods to protect the Shae? Why hadn’t the wardings protecting Avisahn worked? Tears burned in his eyes, and he let them run down his cheeks. He covered his mouth and nose, doing his best to muffle the sound. Not sweet little Arielle. He would never see her again. Never hear the sound of her little voice. He didn’t even have the hoppit doll she had given him the night he had left Avisahn. There would never be a chance to tell them all how much he loved them. The pain of that thought was unbearable.
He remembered Lucyanna’s gift and fumbled in the pouch at his waist for the one she had called the Whisper Stone. Its magic pricked his palm, then it enshrouded him in silence. In his mind, the image of her brown eyes blurred with Arielle’s as he wept.
Chapter XII
Exeres drifted in pools of sleep, too exhausted to push for the surface and awaken. He did not want to, for a terrible storm raged beyond and he would be safe as long as he remained deep in the waters. The summoning of the Vocus had utterly drained him. He had pulled too much Earth magic into himself. Warnings during his training as a Druid priest flitted through his hazy thoughts. Taming and releasing too much Earth magic could paralyze a man for days. The body still needed food and water. One could die before awakening. It had happened to other Druid priests, found dead in the woodlands—wasted away.
Yet there was some degree of thought left open to him. Part of him nudged through the space. Like a door opening in his mind, the vision rose up—the dream that had haunted his entire life. A cage made of glass and gold stays. A woman trapped inside it. Reaching out, he touched the smooth barrier with his palm. The glass was warm, cloudy.
The woman in the cage stirred and looked up at him. He saw the mass of golden curls shift from her shoulders.
—You’ve come again—
Had she spoken to him before? He could not remember. Or was that part of the dream that always faded when he awoke each morning?
“Who are you?” Exeres asked.
