Silverkin, page 22
A smile brightened her face. “Good. You shouldn’t be. Don’t you remember when you saved Flent’s life back at the Foxtale? Gods, doesn’t that seem so long ago?” She picked a grass stalk from his cloak and twirled the stem. “You came out of the night like a Silvan prince…in disguise. So mysterious you were. You had magic that brought my best friend back to life. Doing that made you my friend.” She glanced up at him.
“That does make a little bit of sense.”
“I am a clever girl, after all.”
“You are. At least I remembered your name right. Timacasy.”
She gave him a quirk of a smile. “Not bad, Quickhopper. So are you going to tell me where you went? Where we are going?”
He glanced at Justin, making sure she noted his eyes. “Tomorrow.” He reached over and gave her shoulder a little pat. “I’ll stay awake. See if you can quiet Flent down a little.”
She shook her head. “Not even a wine cork helps, trust me. I’ll stay awake with you,” she said, resting her head against his shoulder.
A little wriggle of guilt squirmed inside him. He liked being with her. He enjoyed being with her. But he knew that locked in the cage of hurtful memories was one of Laisha Silverborne and the look in her eyes when he had left her in Avisahn. Something Chancellor Abtalion had said. But he did not want to think about those memories. They were too close to the painful ones, the ones that still festered in his soul. Little Arielle…
Thealos bit his lip and looked the other way, not wanting Stasy to see the tears in his eyes. He would face those memories another day, when he returned again to Avisahn.
If he returned again to Avisahn. The Silverkin could destroy a Sorian. He had no doubt about that. The Foretelling he had in the dungeons beneath Landmoor had shown him as much. He knew that he would take their evil into himself before banishing it with the crystal’s power. It was impossible to comprehend the power required to do that. The magic was the most sacred magic of the Shae. It would surely destroy one Sorian. But he had no idea, only apprehensions, what it would do to him to destroy both.
–It would kill you–
The thought came as a whisper and was gone just as fast.
Chapter XXIII
Exeres came awake with the sun, surfacing from the black hollow that shunted away all his dreams. His eye blinked open at the sound of voices. For a moment, he panicked, not remembering where he was. Then, fixing his eye-patch, he sat up and stared around the remains of the camp as a strong wind gusted through. The surrounding cook fires of the knights were gone, but some wisps of smoke escaped beneath mounds of shoveled earth used in haste to bury the embers. The rearguard of the knights were finished collapsing the last of the tents, but the majority of cavalry was already gone.
Another night without the dreams.
Regret needled in his stomach. He had wanted the dreams to go, and Miestri made them disappear. Now, he wanted them back. Fragments of memory tickled far away. A woman with golden hair trapped in a cage. He had learned her name but had forgotten it. Exeres chuckled and wiped his mouth. Forgetting names was something he was good at. But he should have remembered hers. There was some importance in remembering it. He sighed. Might as well try drawing water with just a rope.
“Mornin’,” Flent called over to him, bending over the ring of stones and trying to coax life back into the fire, but the fierceness of the morning winds prevented the sparks from catching.
“Move back,” Exeres said, summoning a draft of Earth magic. It strained in coming—as if there wasn’t enough in the land nearby to light a wick. Flames sputtered along the length of wood before tiny yellow flames sprang up, consuming the wood.
“That’s a good trick,” Flent said, grinning. “Banned near broke my back hunched over this thing. Can’t light a thing with all this wind.” He sniffed and wiped his nose.
Exeres stood and stretched, then twisted his neck until it gave a little pop. He bent down and stretched, loosening his leg muscles. Soreness ached in his calves. But his thoughts were clear, no more stringy ropes of control from either Mage or Miestri. He breathed in the morning air and gagged at the smoky smell. He glanced around, unable to believe that all the little wisps of guttered camp fires were the source of it.
The Warder huddled sullenly, his hair splayed and tangled, his hood down. He glanced at Exeres and then down at the ground.
“Good morning,” Exeres said.
“Mirgon,” the Shae replied.
“Your name is Mirgon?”
Flent laughed. “No, he’s Justin. Or Ravin. He just said ‘good morning’ in Drugaen.” Flent looked at Justin and waved his finger. “Noc mirgon. Good morn-ing. Morn-ing. Morning. Good morning.”
“Good morning,” Justin said.
Flent nodded and gave him a wink. “You know how to play bones, Exeres?”
“I heard that you cheat,” he replied, giving him an arch look.
“That’s an exaggeration!”
“I’m sure it is. Where are the…oh, there they are.”
He noticed Thealos gesturing subtly to Ticastasy, their faces close together. They were out of earshot. She nodded a few times and then patted his arm. Thealos gave her a little smile and they came back to the camp.
If he knew me, he wouldn’t feel jealous, Exeres thought. He had heard them talking last night as he tried to fall asleep. Oh, the girl would have been considered pretty by any human…or Shae for that matter. But the way her life drained so quickly…it made her look like a fading flower. Couldn’t Thealos see that in her as well? He was a Shae, for Achrolese’s sake. His life leaked so slowly that he would live to see her great grandchildren and still be strong enough to bounce them on his knee. Only the Shae taught against the races intermingling. The Druids did not care one way or the other. It made sense to keep them separate, but they found passion a poor excuse for naming something a crime.
He looked at Justin through his blind eye as well. His life raced and slowed, faster then slower, then faster again—as if his body did not know how to respond to the seasons. Something had imbalanced his flow. He looked young, for a Shae, but he would die young if that continued. Without proper balance, the organs would fail. A shame, really.
Flent’s life trickled just as fast as Ticastasy’s did. He had learned in his Druid training that those of the Drugaen race were really humans, only cross-bred specifically for certain traits. Their isolation in the mines had preserved the commonalities, but it was said that in the East Kingdoms some Drugaen were born without the special eyesight or strength. It made sense, since those communities had settled above ground. Having open borders made groups more apt to mingle.
The world makes sense if you stop and watch the ebbs and flows of it. Even the Sorian puzzle would be understood in time. Once he understood it, he would use that knowledge to destroy the rest of them. The thought was a sharp iron spike pounded into his soul.
“Allavin is meeting with some of his Shae friends,” Thealos said as he reached the fires. “He’ll join us soon.” He crouched by the fire and warmed his hands.
Ticastasy gave Exeres a wink and went over by Flent to start stuffing her travel sack.
Exeres studied Thealos for a while. The Shae had an arrogant streak that shone through his expressions. Perhaps it was a stock trait among the Shae—a sense of we’re better than you, just accept it. Exeres never had. He was willing to let Thealos play at being the leader, but only so long as it did not rub against his own interests. A good leader would ask questions and seek advice from those he led. If the Shae didn’t ask, then Exeres wouldn’t tell him about the password to get back into Landmoor.
“Here is the situation as I understand it,” Thealos said, brushing hair from his eyes. He had green eyes—an envious shade. “The Shae army approaches Landmoor from the south. From what Exeres told us last night, the garrison at Landmoor has revolted against Ballinaire and claims to have made a Pax with them.”
“Tsyrke told me that he wanted Ballinaire dead,” Ticastasy said. “He wanted a pact with the knights, but maybe he offered one to the Shae so they wouldn’t attack.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to take Tsyrke Phollen at his word just yet,” Thealos said. “He may have another motive. Our problem is that Ballinaire’s army is between us and the city.”
“Would the Knight General spare us some horses?” Flent asked.
“Yes, but I’m not sure how much good they would do. Shearmur is going to ride hard around the Shadows Wood, because he cannot ride hard through it. Not with the Bandits clogging the Iron Point Road and with all the Deathbane they’re using. It will take them two to three days of hard riding to flank them. We still don’t know what the Kiran Thall are doing. My guess is that they’ll ride ahead to Landmoor down the Iron Point Road. They’ll get there before Shearmur.”
Exeres nodded. That did make sense. The Shae wasn’t as stupid as he looked. He decided to toss out the secret anyway. “I can get us into Landmoor.”
That got his attention.
“You can?”
“Tsyrke and Mage wanted me to make sure Ticastasy was safe. They thought she would be with the Sleepwalker, with Jaerod. I think they’re expecting another message from him. A deal. They gave me a password that will let me in the city gates.”
A quirk of a smile twitched on Thealos’ mouth. “Really?”
“I think the question is how we’re going to get there before Ballinaire and the Kiran Thall.”
“Do you have any ideas, Exeres?”
He shrugged. “I think I’d like to hear what Allavin has to say.”
He saw the woodsman and several Shae approaching. They wore heavy cloaks and stuffed padded vests, their weapons cinched and strapped tight against their bodies. Small hunting daggers and hip quivers mostly.
Thealos turned and looked at them and said something in Silvan.
“Yes, from Jove Stand,” Allavin said, the crook of a smile playing across his mouth. “They’re willing to fly us to Landmoor.”
Exeres laughed, but he was the only one. He looked at the others, but they didn’t seem to have heard him right. Allavin had said fly. Hadn’t he?
* * *
Thealos stared at the alerion as it scraped its beak against the plumage scales. It sounded like a blacksmith’s whetstone wheel. The birds were magnificent creatures, taller than wagons, proud and colorful. Their plumage caught the morning sun and made it glimmer; yet the black scales and streaks of smoke and sooty colors made it seem like storm clouds. Long serpentine tails swished in the prairie grass. The alerion opened its beak and hissed, and Ticastasy flinched.
“By the Three,” Thealos whispered. “I’ve never…not this close.”
“I think I’d rather take a horse,” Flent said, his face ashen.
Exeres walked right past them up to the first one. He looked up at it, holding out his hand and Thealos felt a prick of Earth magic rise up, strained, around the Druid priest. He approached slowly and the alerion head bobbed down. Thealos wondered if the creature would snap off his hand.
Exeres stroked the neck plumage, whistling softly to it. The alerion seemed to stare at the rest of them in disdain, but it enjoyed the Zerite’s attention.
“How did you manage it, Allavin?” Thealos whispered.
“Don’t thank me. It’s your doing.”
“What?”
“They had word from Avisahn to patrol the skies during the war. To help you and your mission should you need it.” He cocked his head. “We’ll be over the Shadows Wood by late afternoon. Ahead of Ballinaire’s army.”
Thealos bit his lip, excitement surging in his chest. “I’ll have to remember to thank Laisha for this.” Another idea sprouted in his mind. The wellspring did that to him constantly, feeding him suggestions. He gripped Allavin’s shoulder. “You’re not going in with us this time, my friend.”
Allavin turned, startled. Thealos squeezed his shoulder again and pitched his voice even lower. “Just hear me out. The last time I went into the warding, I was defenseless. There was no way to invoke the Silverkin’s magic without losing it to the Sorian. The Zerite believes that Tsyrke wants a truce, but he may want to use me to get his hands on the Crystal. I’ve already spoken with Ticatasy about this. If I’m forced to use it, I will be sick—too sick to move. I know that. If there’s a chance that I’ll lose the magic, then she is to take it out the exit into the plains. I need you to watch for her, Allavin. Get her out of Landmoor. Take her and the Silverkin to Avisahn.”
“And leave you down there?”
He breathed deeply and it shuddered in his chest. Ban it, Jaerod never trembled when he spoke! “I didn’t tell her this, Allavin, but it might…the magic might kill me.”
A look of pain filled Allavin’s eyes.
Thealos blinked quickly, squeezed the woodsman’s shoulder again, and approached the leader of the Shae scouts.
“Thank you for your aid. I will commend your group to the Princess of Avisahn.”
“We do our duty,” came the leader’s reply. He looked over at Justin, and seemed to be a little confused. “A Warder?”
Thealos nodded. “He’ll come with me. The girl and the Drugaen will go together. The Zerite and the Shaefellow. We are ready.”
“Come then. The alerion hate the plains. These winds are…unnatural.”
A glint of fear glistened in Ticastasy’s eyes as she reached up to grasp a Shae scout’s hand. He pulled her up on the saddle harness and fastened a leather securing strap around her seat and tightened it firmly. After giving her a length of leather to hold, he bound her arms to the harness. She jerked her head to clear the hair from her face and looked back down at Thealos with a nervous smile. He nodded to her and then mounted the other alerion. Justin—or Ravin—joined him on the other side of the giant bird and the Shae scout fastened him in the same way.
Without waiting for the others to finish, the Shae rider whistled sharply and nudged the bird with his knees. The alerion unfolded its wings, bunched its muscles, and leapt into the air with an upward lurch that made Thealos sick to his stomach. The huge wings beat furiously and the wind gusts rocked and pitched them. Blasts of wind struck his face as they climbed higher and higher, and he had to duck his chin towards his armpit to breathe. His hair whipped madly, his eyes stung, and he began to wonder whether they had made a foolish choice.
The mocking winds hushed slightly and the alerion no longer had to beat as hard to keep going. The enormous strength of the creature amazed him. Three riders apiece, yet not enough to unduly burden the creatures. Smells from the Inland plains rose up to meet him, and he breathed fresh air at last, untainted by the stench of Forbidden magic. He had smelled it so long that the purity of it made him aware. Bishop pine and cedar, rich earth and his own sweat. Earthy smells that sated his Shae senses and filled him with peace and made him long for a bath.
Raising his head slightly, he looked back and saw that the other alerion had fanned out behind the lead, riding in formation like geese. He saw Ticastasy far behind him, hunched over the saddle and staring down at the earth rushing beneath them. Flent had his face buried on the back of his fists, as compact and tight as an oyster.
The Shadows Wood surged beneath them, the towering crooked trees appearing suddenly below, startling him. The alerion banked higher, making Thealos clutch at the hand straps as he felt his body shift towards the open air. A sweet sickening sensation thrilled in his stomach. It reminded him of the Foretelling in Landmoor, how he had swooped over the land and watched the history of Sol-don-Orai and its fall. He did not remember wanting to retch though.
The Shae rider tapped him with a riding crop and motioned to the other side of the alerion. Thealos saw Justin scrunched forward, wiping his mouth on his sleeve but then what he saw amazed him. The Iron Point Road wove through the Shadows Wood like a huge undulating snake, the motion caused by the steady gallop of horsemen that he recognized as Kiran Thall. Peering closely, he saw the forest thick with Bandit soldiers fleeing south. Some looked up, but he could hear nothing over the harshness of the gusting wind.
Suddenly the alerion slowed and dipped and the others surged ahead. It rejoined the group in the rear, tailing Exeres’ and Allavin’s mount. Thealos understood—it shared a rotation, much like other birds did. The headwinds were the toughest battle, the most tiring. Or maybe the Shae riders had trained them that way. Allavin stared down at the soldiers, his head turning this way and that, as if he was trying to number them all. Exeres, on the other hand, lifted his head high, as if he exulted in the experience. His gaze looked up, not down, as if the skies would whisper something or show a great mystery.
Hours they flew, loping up and down, crossing the vast stretch of the Shadows Wood. The winds became sultry and steamed, the work more arduous for the alerion. His own shoulder and leg muscles ached from the strain of his posture. The scene below in the woods changed as well as the forest went from dry tinder to muck and mud. Veins of creeks and streams permeated the woods, revealing glimpses of sinkholes and bogs. At one point, he saw a vast swamp with nothing but stunted trees and crowberry bushes—the alerion flew low enough that its talons could swat at the tops of the foliage. Thealos wished they had used alerion on the first drive to Landmoor. How different things would be. But then he had to wonder—would he have become a Sleepwalker himself had it happened any other way?
The forest gave way at last to the Shoreland. As the alerion banked to the left, Thealos saw the fortress of Landmoor down below. How small it looked from the saddle perch of a great bird. The walls looked so frail, as if his boot could kick them over. Smoke from chimneys and forges rose into the skies from the depths of the city walls. The alerion swooped low and circled, drawing closer and closer to the ground. They approached to the west of Landmoor, right near the tree line. It would feel good to walk around, to chafe his hands and practice some of the Way of Ice and Shadows. To let the Oath magic burn the fighting routines deeper into his being—to become one with it.
