Nightblade: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 1) (12 page)

Gregor sniffed. “Younger. I began my training as a boy of ten summers.”

“Ten!” Loren allowed shock to claim her face. “Then you have the advantage. I greatly desire to learn how to protect myself. Could you teach me?”

Gregor did not answer.

Loren spotted a guard near the wagon, standing near its head. She made for him quickly, her pace just below a run. “If I wish to catch up, I must start immediately. Do you think you can teach me what you know today, before we reach the city walls?”

“I trained for years,” said Gregor, now with an undercurrent of exasperation.

“I fear I have no years to waste on such an endeavor. We must speed the process.”

The guard noticed them at last, looking up in confusion. Without warning, she sprang forward and dragged his sword from its scabbard. The man shouted in alarm, but Loren danced away on the balls of her feet. The sword felt much, much heavier than she had expected.

“How do you manage such a thing? I can scarcely lift the blade!”

“Drop it.” Gregor’s hand shot to his sword, scowling. The guard came after her, arms outstretched, but Loren turned and ran another few steps.

“I mean no harm! I wish only to learn!”
 

She must not appear a threat. Loren had no desire to end this day on the end of Gregor’s blade. She danced down the line of wagons, waving the sword in the air in what she hoped passed for an imitation of a true fighter. “Come! Teach me the intricacies of parry and thrust, the elegant dance of death!”

She let her feet tangle beneath her and crashed to the ground, careful to land away from the blade. The guard leapt forward, but Loren shot to her feet, just out of reach. It
was
a dance, she realized, though her partner seemed unwilling. She took a fighter’s pose, one arm behind her and the sword held forward.

“Now, how does one manage the thrust?” She tried it, and the guard cried out as he fell back. He stumbled over his heels, barely managing to stay his footing.

“If you do not drop that weapon—” said Gregor.

“You will take it from me? I welcome it! Come, teach me the way they taught you as a boy!”

All the while, her voice played at a high, strident pitch. Guards up and down the line of wagons came closer, drawn by the commotion. She saw many of them smiling, amused by her ungainly swings. Best of all, Gregor still did not draw his steel. No one spied danger in her wild flailing.

The guard came forward, and again Loren fled. She drew him farther from the wagon near the end of the line. Now no one stood close. A flash of purple told her that Annis had gained the wagon.

“Come, Sir Lord Captain Commander King! Teach me! You will not find a more willing student.” Loren faced off against Gregor from ten yards away and swung the sword in two interlocking circles. “Meet me with a riposte, if you can, or whatever you call it.”

She glanced over her shoulder to see if any guards approached from behind and was surprised to find Damaris. The merchant stood near her carriage at the head of the line, her eyes fixed intently on Loren. Her face broke into a small smile.

“Your lady laughs at you,” said Loren. “You should defend your honor.” The other guard lunged again. She spun clear at the last second. The movement nearly made her drop the sword, but she rescued it before it fell.

At last, she had chosen her words unwisely. She heard the sharp
hiss
of a drawn sword and turned to see the tip of Gregor’s blade.

Steeling her nerves, Loren smiled. “At last! Do you mean to teach me, master?” She leapt aside to avoid another attempt by the guard to recover his weapon. Her foot lashed out, tangled with his, and sent the man crashing to the dirt. “I warn you, I will not go easy on you.”

Gregor advanced upon her with measured, resolute steps. “I have warned you. Your fool’s tongue will not spare you.”

Hate and fury heated his glare, the first true emotions Loren had seen in him since her arrival at the caravan. But over his shoulder, she saw another flash of purple cloth with gold brocade, this time moving away from the wagon. Loren had done her job. She dropped the sword, and it sank point first into the ground.

“Very well. If you do not mean to teach me, I shall press upon you no further.”

Gregor did not answer, nor stop. Loren scarcely had time to think,
He truly means to kill me
before the air whistled with his blade. She dropped to the ground, rolling away as it cut through the air where her head had been.

“Gregor!”

Damaris’s sharp voice cracked like a whip. Gregor froze as he stood above her, eyes snapping to his lady. He drew three deep breaths while Loren waited on her belly.

“She makes you look a fool, and you allow it to anger you? Do you act upon the whim of a girl not yet come to womanhood?”

I have, too!
 

She held the thought, knowing its voice might mean death.

Gregor returned his sword to its scabbard in a single fluid motion and bowed to Damaris, his face an emotionless mask once again. “Of course not, my lady. I only acted because I thought her a threat.”

“This one? A threat?” Damaris scoffed. “Return to your duties. All of you.”

The other guards drifted away and back to their posts. Loren heard more than a few chuckle as they went. Her eyes rose to meet Gregor’s. She could not mistake the fire burning within him, or consider herself safe in his presence. But with any luck, Loren need not worry after today.

“Thank you for the lesson, master,” she said softly.

Gregor turned and stalked off without a word. Loren rose and went to find Annis.

fifteen

They spotted the Cabrus walls as the sun hung low in the sky, bathing Loren’s right side in a soft orange glow. Nerves roiled her blood, and she hunched her shoulders lower.

She walked near the carriages, in plain sight of both Damaris and Annis, under Gregor’s baleful glare. As the walls loomed taller, Damaris’s carriage swerved left to draw near. The merchant disembarked and walked beside Loren.

“You will stay safe if you remain unnoticed,” she said. “They will not recognize you in your new cloak. Keep the hood drawn about your face, and we will pass through the gate without incident.”

“Yes, my lady. And thank you.” Loren had to force sincerity into her voice.
 

Damaris nodded and returned to her carriage. Just behind it, Gregor glared at Loren from horseback. She stuck out her tongue and aimed it at him.

She let her eyes rove to the second carriage and saw Annis peeking out from the door’s window. The girl looked terrified, and Loren’s own fears rose to fever pitch. She had to rely on Annis, with no time to turn from her course or plan a new one.

They drew closer still. Loren’s heart sank into her boots as she scanned the wall.
 

Corin and Bern stood before the gate. Loren recognized them immediately, the one short and broad, the other tall and slender but no less muscular. She ducked her head on instinct and dutifully studied her feet. Her steps wandered right as if by accident, drifting closer to Damaris’s carriage.

“My lady! They are here!”

Damaris looked out from her window. “Who, child?”

“The constables. The ones who pursued me.”

Damaris leaned out to look ahead. “My eyes are not what they used to be. The two before the gate?”

“With the red leather pauldrons, aye.”

Damaris pursed her lips for a moment. “This complicates things. Still, we should have nothing to fear. Fall behind Annis’s carriage, and let me confer with Gregor.”

Loren did as ordered, though she could almost feel Damaris’s hidden intent. Annis looked out her window as Loren walked by.

“What’s wrong?”

“The constables,” said Loren. “Those who pursued me. They are here.”

“What for? I thought they wanted the wizard, not you.”

“They must have had little luck finding him and decided to guard the road against me instead.”

“Then mother will place you into their hands for certain.”

“Not if we carry out our plan as discussed. Are you ready?”

“How does one ready for this?” said Annis. “But yes.”

The carriage door swung open, and Annis came out to walk beside Loren. Her face seemed somehow pale beneath its dark coloring, and her eyes flitted about.

“You look nervous,” Loren said in a murmur.

“I
am
nervous!”
 

“But you must not show it. Come, tell me of the High King’s Seat. Speak as you often do when we walk.”

Annis thought for a moment, her mouth hanging open, and shook her head. “I cannot. I can scarcely remember what the place looks like. My thoughts reside here, now, and I am not overjoyed at our chances.”

Loren thought her heart might collapse. If Annis lost her nerve, Loren was finished. The merchant’s daughter would carry on, but Loren would find herself in the constables’ hands.
 

“You must not lose heart,” said Loren. “Without me, how long before you have another chance to escape? What if they discover your mother in that time? They will cast your family down and throw you in chains or the stocks. Do you think your age will save you? You will meanwhile bear witness to betrayal and death, powerless to stop it.”

Without answering, Annis clutched a bulge at her side under her cloak, hiding a package wrapped in brown cloth.

“That is better,” said Loren, hoping she spoke the truth. “Come now. Courage.”

Gregor pulled up to walk beside them. The walls stood dangerously close, and Loren was too exposed under the eyes of Corin and Bern. The captain spoke without looking at her.

“My lady commands you to walk by her daughter’s carriage. You will pose as her lady in waiting.”

“But I will be in plain sight,” said Loren. “The constables will recognize me for certain.”

Gregor glared at her. “I bring my lady’s orders, not an opportunity for debate. The carriage. Now.”

Loren swallowed hard and let Annis guide her to the carriage. But the girl did not climb aboard again, electing to walk.
 

The caravan halted before the gate. There, only thirty feet away, stood the constables who had pursued Loren for days. Behind them stood several guards, with more posted along the wall. Loren thought of the arrow Bern had loosed at her and failed to suppress a shudder. She peered at the constables from below her cowl, desperate not to show her face.

“Well met again,” said Corin. “What news from the road?”

“Precious little,” said Damaris, leaning out to speak from her carriage window. “And in the city?”

“Little as well,” said Corin. “Tell me: Where is our brother constable? We sent him north to meet you, for he thought that mayhap we had not questioned you as closely as we might.”

“We met him upon the road,” said Damaris. “He put us to the search, and rode away north after finding nothing.”

Corin and Bern traded glances. Then Bern said, “Why would he ride north, and not south to inform us?”

Damaris dismissed him with a laugh. “You ask me? What could I know of his aims and intent?”

“Mayhap he never reached you,” said Bern, his voice a low growl. “Or mayhap he did, and took coin to leave.”

Loren felt a presence and looked up to see Gregor looming behind her. She stood within easy reach of his long arms. She pictured them leaping out to wrap her in a death embrace.

“Your men must tarnish easily, if you so quickly suspect bribery.”

Bern acted as if Damaris had not spoken. “Or mayhap he lies in a cold ditch somewhere along the road, a concern to you no longer.”

Damaris scoffed again. “Do you think I would raise my hand against the King’s law?”

“It runs in your blood,” spat Bern. Corin raised his hands and tried calming his partner, but the taller constable would not subside. “Tell us where he is, or I swear I will put you to the question.”

“You would threaten a friend to the crown?” Damaris spoke lightly as if asking after the constable’s family.

“My partner speaks hastily, my lady,” said Corin. “We have had no luck finding the wizard, and the search wears us thin.”

“Friend to the crown?” Bern snapped. “What have you ever done to earn that title, you leech?”

“Why, I have brought you both a mighty gift,” Damaris said.

Loren felt a shifting behind her and knew the moment had arrived. “Annis, now!”
 

She leapt forward and felt the tail end of her cloak slip through Gregor’s grasping fingers.
 

Annis drew back her arm and let fly. The package of brown cloth sailed through the air. For a moment, Loren feared it would fall short of its target, but Annis had a surprisingly strong arm. The package landed perfectly between Damaris’s carriage and the constables, bursting open as it landed. Loren caught a flash of glistening black as a cluster of obsidian crystals spilled across the ground.

A pregnant silence stretched. Then many things happened at once.

The constables cried out in unison and drew their blades, as did the men behind them. A guard blew a horn atop the wall. The men on the ground rushed Damaris’s carriage, and Gregor’s men surged forward to meet them. The air rang with the clash of steel. Gregor screamed in fury and charged the constables and their men, momentarily forgetting Loren and Annis.