Shadeborn: A Book of Underrealm (19 page)

The anger left Xain as suddenly as it came. “By my hands many have burnt. Jordel forgave me that, though those I slew were his brothers and sisters. Now I must earn that forgiveness. And if fortune smiles, mayhap Enalyn will let me see my son. One last time before the end.”

twenty-two

As Kal told them often and loudly, they had little time to waste. Still, he allowed them a day on the ship to recover from the road. Besides, the
Long Claw
needed to stock itself for the voyage, while Kal had his own plans for the return to Ammon.

“I will be taking another ship,” he told them. “No use delaying passage home just to swing by the Seat when there’s much work to be done at the stronghold.”

He was sending four Mystics with them—good men, he said, ones he trusted. From what Loren had seen of Kal so far, his trust did not come lightly, and she was grateful for his offer. He brought the Mystics by on the day of their arrival, while they were preparing themselves to sleep in the cabins belowdecks.

Loren recognized three from Kal’s cabin, though they had been behind swords when she had last seen them. Their leader was a man named Erik. He was a hale warrior with red hair and a beard that nearly bested Kal’s. With him was a large young man named Jormund, and a woman named Gwenyth. Erik spoke easily enough, and was more polite than Kal, but the other two barely said a word beyond their simple introductions.
 

The fourth Mystic was another mage, a woman named Weath, an alchemist. Almost from the start, she and Xain fell into animated conversation. Among a blur of words she barely understood, Loren gathered that they had attended the Academy at around the same time, though Weath had completed her training with the Mystics.
 

They soon excused themselves to continue their conversation elsewhere—or rather, they were forced to leave when Erik nearly threw them out of the room.

The Mystic then sat with Loren and called for wine, for he had many questions. In particular, he wanted to know of the Shades: their strength, the composition of their troops, their strategies and any weaknesses that might be exploited. Loren felt of little help, for she had no mind for warfare or strategy. But when she told him of Trisken and the man’s ability to cheat even mortal blows, Erik took great interest.

“It was the tattoo on his neck,” Loren explained. “It held some dark enchantment. I would wager the Necromancer himself put it there, for it had the power to stay death itself. Only after Jordel destroyed the tattoo could Trisken finally be killed.”

“And you say it was on the back of his neck?” said Erik. “Do they always place it there?”

“I know not. But Rogan, another man like Trisken, goes to battle with chain hanging from his helmet, which protects the same area. It seems a safe wager.”

“You are sure Rogan has the same power?”

“I shot him in the hip with an arrow. He snapped the shaft as it if were a fly’s bite and came for me again.” Loren shuddered at the memory, and at the baleful look she could recall in his eye.

“I have seen men do much the same in battle when their blood is up.”
 

“Not like this.”

Whenever he paused to think of more questions, she asked Erik about himself, and the others with him. Loren learned he bore the title of knight. But when she asked if that meant he was like the other Mystic warriors she had met before, Erik shook his head.

“The greater part of Mystics is simply that—Mystics. They follow orders and fight at the command of others. In time, they may be promoted to a knight, like myself, and then to the rank of captain. Captains answer to Chancellors, who answer only to the Lord Chancellor himself. The Lord Chancellor answers to no one, save the High King.”

The others bore no rank other than their title of Mystic—not even Weath. That confused Loren, for it seemed a wizard such as she would be more than a match for Erik in battle, even if he were a mighty warrior.

“It is not only strength in battle that determines worthiness of rank,” said Erik. “If that were so, the Lord Chancellor should never have risen to his station. He has never performed any great deeds in battle.”

“How did he rise to his position, then?”

Erik looked around, though no one had entered the room since their conversation had started. “There are many rumors, and little known for certain. But he hails from the family Daydren, and their influence is powerful across the nine lands. The Academy Dean hails from that black clan as well.”

Loren shuddered, for she had heard that before. Annis, whose family of Yerrin was fearsome enough, had feared to do more than whisper at the Daydrens’ dark machinations.

Once Erik had finally exhausted his questions and Loren had no more in return, he took his leave. She found herself alone in her cabin, for Gem and Chet had gone to the deck, while Xain and Annis had left her some time ago. She stood and paced. Loren had two hard decisions, and each had weighed heavily upon her ever since Kal had told her his plan.

Just as she had made up her mind to go, there came a sharp rap at the door. It opened to Chet. He shut the door behind him, clearly troubled. Then he came to stand before her, and though he looked as though he longed to take Loren’s hands, he did not.

“You mean to go through with this mad plan, then?”
 

She met his gaze and nodded. “I have no choice.”

“We all have a choice. You told me you had a message for the Mystics, a message that might let them save all the nine lands from peril. That message is now delivered, it seems. Yet still you march by their orders.”

Loren found herself annoyed but let it pass. “The message has not yet reached as far as it must. You heard Kal, and I know you saw the wisdom in his plan. Without the High King’s order, the nine lands may wait forever for the Mystics to act.”

“Xain is already determined to tell her, whatever his consequence. Yet you, too, are a criminal under the King’s law, and may face the same penalty.”

“That is unlikely. I would be surprised if word of my doings has reached the Seat.”

Chet looked far from satisfied. But Loren had only just mustered the courage to do what must be done and had no time to console him now.

“I hope you will come with me still. But I will understand if you wish to wait here. Stay here, on the coast, and I promise I will return to you the moment the High King has been informed of the threat. Then we can return to the Birchwood, where I am certain your father awaits your homecoming.”

“Would that I could believe it,” he murmured, looking past her as his eyes grew distant.
 

“I believe it. But now I must speak to Annis. You need decide nothing until the morrow.”

Loren moved past him. At the last moment, his hand jerked out to brush against hers, and she let her fingers trail against his for a moment longer than needed.

She found Annis upon the ship’s main deck. The girl sat on a large coiled rope, which formed a perfectly sized seat. Her eyes were on Gem, who had somehow convinced one of the Mystics to practice his swordplay. The boy had stripped to the waist, and his bare feet danced upon the boat’s planks as he swung hither and yon with his blade.

Though her mind had been made up, Loren quailed when she saw Annis sitting there. The girl looked up and saw her, and in her smile Loren saw the same quiet panic she had been feeling herself. So rather than speak, she sat beside Annis on the deck, and together they watched.

Gem’s weeks of practice seemed to have paid off, for he matched the Mystic blow for blow. He was one Loren had not yet been introduced to—a thin and wispy Mystic who seemed a perfect match for Gem’s small frame.

Only now that she watched him, Loren saw that the boy was not so small as he had once been. In the months since their first meeting, he had shot up like a beanstalk. And from many adventures, and the sword practice he had thrown himself into since Jordel’s death, Loren now saw thin and sinewy muscle where once skin had been clinging to bones.

She looked to Annis by her side and saw that the merchant’s daughter, too, was no longer the child she had been. She was neither so plump nor so short. And her eyes as they watched Gem showed something Loren recognized, something that might not yet be womanly but was not entirely childish. It was disconcerting to recognize that two of her closest friends in the world should have grown so much in such a short time without her seeing it.
 

Annis caught her looking and blushed, turning her eyes from Gem as he practiced. “Am I staring so boldly? I do not mean to—you probably think me a fool.”

“Sometimes you can be.” Loren nudged her knee. “But not now.”

Annis slapped her hand, but a smile could not banish all her anxiety. She opened her mouth as if to speak then closed it. When she finally found her voice, Loren could tell the words were not those she most wanted—and needed—to say.

“What do you think I should do? About Gem, I mean.”

“Whatever you wish.” Loren shrugged. “Your feelings are your own.”

“You could give me
some
advice. After all, you and Chet . . ."

Loren felt her cheeks burn a bit, but mayhap less than she feared. “That is not the same. We have known each other all our lives, and Chet wished to marry me for years. You and Gem only met a while ago, though indeed it seems longer.” Her smile dampened, and she spoke more softly. “But I do not think that is what chiefly troubles you.”

At first, Annis looked as though she was trying to feign ignorance, but her mask soon fell. She hung her head, her thick black hair cast down about her face. “No, it is not.”

“We are going to the Seat,” Loren prodded. “From what you have told me, many of your family are there as well—and even more of their agents. For all we know, Damaris herself might have returned by now.”

“I doubt that,” Annis said quickly. “I do not think the Seat is much safer for her than it is for me now, if indeed the Shades’ influence reaches so far as it seems.”

“And yet . . ."

“And yet.”

“If you wish to come with us, you can, of course. But I cannot see that as wise, though it breaks my heart to say so.”

Annis’s eyes grew wet with tears. “I do not wish to be parted. I told you as much in the Greatrocks. I shall repeat it now.”

“And it is the last thing in the world I would wish for. But this is not forever, or even for long—only until we have done our duty and can return to you.”

Annis barely held back a sob. It turned to a sniff instead. “But you will take Gem.”

“Gem will not be hunted high and low by his family, for he has none.”

“What do you mean to do with me, then?”

“Nothing without your consent. I tried before to make arrangements without you. I will never do that again.”

“You know my meaning. Where would I go?”

“With Kal, perhaps. I will ask him to take you to Ammon. I can scarcely imagine a safer place in all the nine lands. And I mean to make my way there in any case, upon leaving the Seat. There I will find you, and we will set forth upon the road together.”

“Do you promise me this, Loren? You will not abandon me there and go your own way?”

Loren took her hands and pulled Annis down to the deck so they were facing each other. “I swear it by the sky above and the darkness below. When I sent you ahead in Cabrus, I did not stop searching until I had found you. When Xain was seized by madness and took you from me, I found and plucked you from his lair. Hear me now: I will come for you in Ammon as soon as I may. You are my dearest friend, Annis of the family Yerrin.”

“You are more than a friend,” said Annis, who could no longer hold her tears. “You are my sister—nearer to me than blood, and twice as dear.”
 

She jumped into Loren’s arms and let her tears spill silently down.
 

Loren kept her own from falling—but only just.

twenty-three

They spent a restless, fitful night on the boat. Loren had not slept well when they sailed on the riverboat along the Dragon’s Tail, and found it no easier even on a ship so large. Almost she thought to go into the town and find herself an inn to stay for the night but feared discovery by the Shades—and Annis would have been distraught besides. The girl spent the night in Loren’s bed, curled up like a pup to its mother, and seemed to have no trouble with her slumber. So Loren stayed, waking in fits and starts, miserable when morning dawned.

She and Kal had traded words the night before. To her surprise, he had easily agreed to the idea of taking Annis in his company. “’Tis a sensible choice, and one I am surprised to hear you make. I cannot promise you the girl will enjoy Ammon, but neither will she starve. I shall put her to work.”

They bid farewell on the
Long Claw’s
deck just after dawn. Annis would scarcely let go of Loren, although she no longer wept. She said goodbye to Chet, which was somewhat awkward for them both, and then to Xain, which was somewhat cool, for Annis could not entirely forget his actions in Wellmont. Gem she saved for last, and Loren half expected some grand confession to bubble forth from her mouth. But Annis merely held him close and made him promise to come for her when he could. Gem, for his part, seemed mostly confused, and said of course he would be with Loren when they all came to fetch her.