Silverkin, page 17
The other knight let out a whoop and spurred his mare up next to Thealos’. He snatched the knotted reins and slowed the horse to a canter.
A dozen mounted knights approached, shaking the earth like thunder with their approach. They were all human and looked alike to Thealos, especially marking the similarities of their armor. Most wore helms with wagging plumes crowning their heads. The lead knight was sweaty with a rust-colored beard.
“Kindyr and Lorgan, what news?” he said. “Where are the others? Why are you riding those nags?”
Thealos watched as the knight who had led the way reined in his mount which stamped with impatience in response.
“Ambushed, sir.”
The lead knight’s eyes blazed as he looked at Thealos. “Did he kill them all? Sweet Hate!”
“No!” came the reply from the knight holding the reins of Thealos’ steed. “By Achrolese, no! He saved us, sir. They used some dreadful magic…or…p..poison on us, sir. Had a rope around my neck this morning. Thought I’d hang for sure. The Sleepwalker saved the both of us. We’re taking him to the Knight General. Sir.”
The lead knight did not appear fully convinced. “You have his weapons?”
Thealos chuckled at that thought, earning a sharp look from the man. He bit his lip. He was trussed up like a roast on a spit! Yet even without a sword, he knew he could dispatch these knights. After he had regained his strength.
“We have them. A blade which is finer than a king’s. I’m loath to surrender it. And a bag of stones. He was holding several in his hand when we took him and the rest were in a pouch at his waist. He has a nice longbow—of fine wood, but it’s not strung.”
Thealos bit his lip and said nothing. Were all humans like Tannon’s band? Did they all give in to the urge to steal another man’s possessions? Or did they even consider it a crime to rob a Shae, considering the reputation of his homeland and his Correl’s profession?
The lead knight’s horse shied and he calmed it. “Give me those things. I’ll not have you take him to the Knight General where he can get at them.”
“Sir…”
“Don’t argue, Lorgan. Just give them to me.”
“Might I have your name?” Thealos asked the lead knight. “I should like to have my belongings back when I have finished speaking with the Knight General. There is a misunderstanding here, I believe. I’m a representative from the kingdom of Avisahn. I do not deserve to wear these ropes.”
The sneer on the man’s face caught Thealos by surprise. “Avisahn? Oh, the Knight General is going to love that. The Sleepwalker’s a Shae working for Avisahn. Hand them over, Lorgan.”
The knight obeyed and Thealos watched as the prince’s sword, the pouch, and the longbow sheath passed hands.
“Your name?” Thealos said one more time, sending out a tendril of Oath magic. He felt it connect with the man and watched him shudder involuntarily. He would feel it as a prick of awareness down his spine. It was a simple bit of magic, but an effective one. On a dark night leagues away, Thealos would be able to sense the man holding his belongings and know just where to find him.
“Maston of Vagmandis,” came the man’s reply. “Welcome to the army of Dos-Aralon, Sleepwalker. You’re on the wrong side of the river.”
* * *
"I’m going to cut your legs loose, Sleepwalker. Don’t try anything foolish. I said we would speak up for you, and I meant it.”
“Your name is Lorgan?” Thealos asked.
The knight nodded.
“And you’re Kindyr? Good. Kindyr and Lorgan. I’m pleased to meet you. My name is Thealos Quickfellow. I would like to speak with your Knight General. I won’t do anything stupid.”
They cut the bonds around his legs and both men helped Thealos off the saddle. He could barely stand. Soreness plagued his entire body and he felt sharp stabs of pain where the Kiran Thall had managed to cut him. He considered himself lucky that none of the Kiran Thall had been entrusted with anything more than Deathbane tips to their crossbow bolts. He did notice that the wounds had been treated and bandaged while he was unconscious. At least they would not fester.
Another man came and brought away the three mounts to brush down and feed, while Kindyr and Lorgan took Thealos to the command pavilion. It had six sides held up with tall poles and pennants keeping those inside from the burn of the sun. The chill of the morning was gone and several knights looked as if they were sweltering in their hauberks and plate mail. The churn of the camp sounded like four waterfalls converging at a single point. Horses neighed and stamped, armor and spurs jangled, and the wreckage of the trampled plains stung Thealos’ sensibilities.
After a short word with the guardians of the pavilion, they were allowed inside.
“They know we’re here and they do nothing.” The knight tossed a gauntlet on the trestle table. “They do nothing.”
Thealos regarded the man coolly, for it was the first time he had met one of the leaders of Dos-Aralon. The Knight General of Owen Draw had dark hair, almost black, that hung well past his shoulders, and was clean-shaven—which surprised him—and skin as dark as a horse’s mottled hide. His eyes were dark, open so wide they seemed inclined to madness. He had scars and wore them well, especially a wicked-looking cut that glanced across his face.
As he turned to observe the new arrivals, Thealos saw the man was missing an arm below the elbow. His right arm.
“I don’t even miss it, Sleepwalker. Go ahead and stare. They all do at first. My name is Gidion Freemur but they call me General Shearmur. I’m Knight General of Owen Draw.”
“A pleasure meeting you, sir,” Thealos said.
“You might want to withhold judgment on that just now. A bit early to be fawning, Shae. I received a missive from one of my close advisors and friends warning me of trouble down in Landmoor. Warning me that a Sleepwalker was involved as well. My friend did not mention you were a Shae. I didn’t think the Shae allowed anyone to be trained as a Sleepwalker. You’re a Kilshae?”
Thealos remembered now. He closed his eyes, thinking himself a fool for not having made the connection earlier. “I remember now. Sturnin did say he sent a man to Owen Draw from Castun. I’m glad you heeded his letter, General. You’re a little confused. I’m not the man that Sturnin referred to. Nor am I a Kilshae.”
The Knight General motioned for Kindyr and Lorgan to step back. “I’m not afraid of him, soldiers. You are saying that I’m mistaken, then?”
“What I’m saying is...”
He whirled around, fist backhanding at Thealos’ face.
The Oath magic reacted with a memory. Thealos twisted backwards, pivoting his shoulders so that the General’s fist passed just an inch from his cheek.
The Knight General smiled, a little bit of madness in his wide eyes. “Care to tell me again that you’re not a Sleepwalker?”
“I didn’t say that,” Thealos said, feeling sweat trickle down his back. His muscles ached from the sudden movement. “I’m not the one that Sturnin Goff referred to.”
“More than one? Odd. So...you know his full name.”
“He was my friend as well.”
“Where is he? I’d like to hear his report.”
Thealos swallowed and nodded. “As would I, for he would tell you in a way you would believe. But he is dead. He died in Landmoor saving my life.”
A gasp came from Kindyr. “Dead? Nothing…no one could kill Sturnin Goff. Not a dozen Kiran Thall!”
“He died because of you?” the Knight General said, his voice low. “In Landmoor? Why would his life be in danger there?”
Thealos stepped forward. “Because the Bandit Rebellion controls Landmoor. They occupied the city nearly a fortnight ago. Your men aren’t facing scattered companies of Kiran Thall, General. The Shoreland Regiment is down there. Your men will be slaughtered if they stay.”
The General cocked his head, as if considering. “My men are all that stands between them and the city of Dos-Aralon. The Dukes of Amberdian, Sypher, and Iniva are sending forces but they’ll not get here for another fortnight themselves.” He laughed—a mad laugh. “You’re suggesting we move out of the way?” He walked away from Thealos and went to a map on the trestle table and shoved his gauntlet away from it. “I learned this morning that Avisahn declared war on the Bandit Rebellion…and seeks to claim Landmoor for herself. The Silvan army has been seen marching south to Jan Lee and every boat in the banned armada is being prepared to transport them. To land south of the city.”
He turned and faced Thealos again. Amusement flickered on his face. “You want me to abandon my position?”
Thealos said nothing.
“Who are you, Sleepwalker?”
“I’m Thealos Quickfellow of Avisahn. I’m telling you that your men will be slaughtered if you stay here. How far are we from Castun?”
“Several leagues. The Kiran Thall razed the city. There have been refugees for the last week. The Bandits are provoking me to attack them there, seek to lure me after them into the Shadows Wood to even the odds. But I don’t think I’ll play that game. This could be a feint, to draw all our forces down here when the real attack comes through Owen Draw while we’re gone. Who commands the Shoreland Regiment?” The question felt like a test.
“Tsyrke Phollen. He’s in Landmoor, or was when I left. I’m not here to trick you, General Shearmur.”
“Then why are you here?” he asked with a pleasant smile. “Enjoying the valley air? Tired of hiding in the trees with the rest of the cowards? Thought you’d play soldier for a while before dancing in silk socks back across the Trident?”
Rage thrummed in Thealos’ heart. He did not like this man, this arrogant, taunting human who lacked an arm to be a full man. How dare he mock the Shae traditions like this, when his soldiers claimed their own order of knighthood was derived from it?
He’s baiting you, and you’re letting him.
Almost. He tried summoning the Oath magic to free himself from the bonds. To what end though? To strike down a man in his own command tent? Is that what a true Ravinir did?
Baiting or not, the words stung.
Thealos cocked his head and looked the General straight in the eyes. “In the past, the Shae and the knights of Owen Draw were allies. We fought side by side during the Purge Wars. But one of your own betrayed you, General, and now he’s betrayed us. The Rebellion did not end after the Purge Wars. It is time we ended it now. Together.”
The smug look faded and intelligence flooded the General’s eyes. “Well said, Sleepwalker.” He smoothed the surface of the map. “But I still don’t trust you.”
The tent flap opened. “Sir, there’s a man here to see you with a report. Ballinaire just joined the Bandits in Castun. They’re breaking up camp, sir! They’re starting to advance.”
“Advance? Let them,” the Knight General replied. “Let’s end it here.”
“Don’t be a fool, General,” Thealos said. “You have no idea what you’re facing. Retreat while you still can.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to countermand me, Sleepwalker. I’ll deal with you later. Kindyr! Lorgan! Prepare some accommodations for our…guest.”
Chapter XVIII
Pale moonlight spilled down from the heavens and cleansed the summer night. Thealos glanced through the tent flap at the blue orb of the moon and the myriad stars above and let out his breath to expel his impatience. He smelled the fat of something roasting on a spit waft by his nose, linger a moment, and then follow the breeze. The sounds of an army settling in after a hard ride filled the air—the jangle of spurs and harnesses, the snorting and stamping of horses, the crackle of cookfires. How many hours had it been since the Knight General dismissed him? Darkness brought dangers and threats. Why could they not realize this? What blindness prevented these humans from seeing that he meant to help them?
Not blindness, perhaps. Maybe they had known too many Shae and too many Sleepwalkers.
His wrists throbbed and chafed. There were six men guarding the perimeter of his tent and two inside. They had untied his legs so he could pace, but they had untied his wrists only once so he could relieve himself and then retied him, allowing his hands to be in front instead of behind his back. His shoulders and neck ached and he was afraid if he held still, his entire body would seize up and become useless.
If the Vocus tracked him still—which he did not doubt—and if it were intelligent—which again, he did not doubt—then it would wait until dark before attacking. The humans would not be able to smell it coming. Thealos hoped he would be able to before it was too late. But what would he do? Getting out of the ropes would not be difficult, but he needed his weapon and the stones. He had tried to summon their magic on his own and had not been successful. At least, he did not believe he was successful. What would he do if the Vocus came?
What else could he do but run?
He could try and walk the Crossroads, but he had never done that on his own. How sick would it make him? How far would he be able to go? The wellspring of memories told him that each Ravinir was different. Some gained powers and skills faster than others, depending on their own natural abilities and the depths of their doubts.
One of the knights guarding him pulled out a whetstone and started sharpening his sword. It rang out in sharp, bell-like tones, grating down Thealos’ spine. If he needed a weapon, he could always force one from a knight. Ban it, how much longer will they make me wait?
The tent smelled stale, of sweat and leather. He had learned earlier that the knights of Owen Draw had ridden hard to the king’s road between the Shadows Wood and the capital Dos-Aralon. Once the dukes’ armies joined them, they would press down into the Shadows Wood to confront Ballinaire. Yet they still did not realize they faced the magic of the Everoot. Jaerod had said the entire valley could be destroyed, Avisahn with it.
With the Oath magic, he reached out and felt for Maston’s presence, the knight that had his things. Good, he isn’t far. What good that did being encircled by eight men, though…
He heard voices approach the tent and turned towards the opening. The knight with the whetstone set it down.
“Maybe they’re bringing supper,” he said.
“Can you smell the roast? It’s enough to drive you mad.”
“Probably salted pork. Too peppery for me. Stuff burns all the way down. I’ll take the mashed potatoes, though.”
Thealos glanced at them both before turning back to the flap.
A knight opened the door and held the flap as a woman with dark hair entered with a tray.
Ticastasy.
She thanked the knight and came in, giving Thealos a wry look. He stared at her in shock, unable to stop a wide grin from lighting his face.
“Why is it that every time I come visit you, Quickfellow, someone has you locked up?” She gave him an impish smile and set the tray down by the two knights.
“You know him?” one of the knights said in a challenging tone.
She nodded. “The food is for you two. I have orders from General Shearmur that he’s to be released. The papers are on the tray. Enjoy your meal, gentlemen.”
Slipping a dagger from her boot, she sliced away his bonds.
* * *
"Those wrists look painful, Quickfellow. They had you trussed up all day? The banned fools. Stubbornness is a terrible quality in a man.”
“I’d like to add ungracious, stiff, and utterly lacking a sense of humor,” Thealos said, watching the firelight brighten her hair and paint shadows across her wrinkled clothes.
She smiled at his jest. She wore sturdy brown breeches and a creamy linen shirt, belted at the waist, with a thin cloak tied at her throat. The cuffs of her shirt were made of leather with little studs and were shoved up to her elbows to free her sun-browned arms.
“You’ve been living in the wilds, Stasy. Look at this. A steady fire, properly fenced with stones, a bedroll that’s seen its share of pine needles. You’re not a city girl anymore.”
“I’ve got blisters on my feet too,” she said with a wink. “You’d be impressed. I have even been learning a little stepwalking from Allavin.” She clucked her tongue and examined his wrists again. “Look at these rope burns. They must sting. Here, I have some ointment in my bag.” Fishing around in her travel sack a moment, she pulled out a round wooden box and twisted it open.
“Smells like aloe. And something else. What is it?”
“I don’t know, but I got it from a Zerite I met in Castun. I helped him tend the wounded. Wish I could heal you with a touch like he could…or if we had some Everoot, that would be something.” She dug two fingers into the ointment and started smoothing it into his wrists.
“You’ve been in Castun the whole time?”
“We didn’t think it was wise to linger when the Kiran Thall came back. Craven rooks, all of them. Allavin heard from his Shae friends that the knights were coming. He’s been teaching me a little Silvan too. The giant birds those Shae ride—they’re beautiful. Alerion. They look so wild, but the Shae tame them. Allavin said that they can snatch a rider and horse and carry both. I’d never seen anything like that in Sol.”
“You know, I thought about you when I passed the Sheven Ingen wharves.”
“Your eyes are glowing. You must be lying.” She said it teasingly and then her expression clouded. “When were you there?”
“Recently.”
“As much as I miss the Foxtale, I don’t really think I can go back there. It’s one of the places he’d look for me.”
Thealos knew very well who the he referred to.
“There you go,” she said, wiping the excess back into the dish. “The salve will soothe those wrists. Have you other hurts?”
He thought about his family like a stab to the heart and snorted. “None that time won’t heal. Frankly, I’m sore my body over.”
“Probably hungry too. I took enough for three, since Allavin said he’d be coming soon. Eat up.”
