Shadow Of The Mountain (19 page)

They continued to walk and the adrenaline that had been keeping Tenlon alive the last few days was quickly wearing off. His exhaustion had caught up to him at the stables and he could barely keep his eyes open as they moved through the crowd. He struggled to stay in step with the striding warrior but the Amorian moved so quickly.

Tenlon clumsily bumped into a large man reeking of the tavern and trouble, stopping him dead. The mass of people continued to move around them and Tenlon cast a quick look about for Desik, but his companion was nowhere in sight.

The apprentice’s eyes slowly climbed the towering heights of the stranger, all the way to his shoulders and gray bearded face, and knew he was in trouble. The brute was larger than the champion, bigger than the king even.

“You scuffed my new boots, friend.” The man’s voice poured down to him on an invisible wave of wine.

He took a step closer, waiting for a response.

Tenlon looked at the stranger’s feet and saw perhaps the oldest, ugliest pair of riding boots he’d ever laid eyes on. He wasn’t even sure if they were a matching pair.

“I’m sorry,” Tenlon told him, having nothing more to offer. He was suddenly very aware of the bag he carried and the artifact within. This was bad.

“Sorry?” the man barked as spittle flew across his beard. “Sorry? Sorry won’t shine my boots, little girl!”

A strong arm shoved Tenlon back a step, but it wasn’t the drunkards.

Desik was fast. Bringing a fist against the side of his head, the Amorian hammered the butt-end of a dagger into the stranger’s temple in a savage blow. The strike was delivered with so much force it made Tenlon wince just watching.

When the apprentice looked next, the mountainous stranger was gone, transformed to a form lying still at his feet.

The warrior gripped his arm and hauled him through the crowd. In seconds they were safely away from the scene, threading through the people before finding a less crowded path behind the vendor carts.

Tenlon was stunned. Desik’s strike against the man was like an angry burst of lightning, arriving in the blink of an eye and disappearing even faster, leaving behind only a momentary flash of what had occurred. Tenlon had seen violent horse kicks less forceful than what the Amorian had just doled out, kicks that had left men bedridden for days.

Tenlon shivered. Desik was a frightening man.

They walked for five more blocks, taking quick turns and alleyways that led to intersecting streets. Always they kept to the shadows, and Tenlon realized the warrior was still shaking off any would-be pursuers. The apprentice kept any comments he may have had to himself.

Finally he could feel Desik slow his pace, seeming to relax a bit. Turning down another side street, they approached a three-story inn painted a gaudy red. Similarly painted shutters hung from the windows, bent and crooked from neglect. The boisterous sounds of a tavern seeped from its open door and windows, along with the welcoming glow of candles and fireplaces from within. And Tenlon could smell meat. Roasting, seasoned, delicious meat.

The sign swinging above the door was adorned with antlers and hand-painted letters that read: Crimson Stag. They stopped near the entrance.

“Have you been here before?” Tenlon asked.

“I don’t think so.” Desik grabbed his arm again and led him down a narrow alley running alongside the inn. He was looking up at the side of the building.

It was dark and Tenlon smelled odors he didn’t want to smell and was stepping in wet things he certainly didn’t want to walk through.

“What are we looking for?”

After reaching the end of the alley, Desik looked at the back of the building. Satisfied, he pulled Tenlon back the way they had come.

“Come, little mage. Almost finished.”

They entered the inn. There was a large dining area with a bar set against the back wall. It was crowded, but not uncomfortably so. The ceiling was low and held a smoky haze above a dozen round tables and high stools. A few women could be spied about, but it was mostly men who filled the seats—large men, men with enough weapons and armor to fight a war. Or die in one.

This was a city of mercenaries and brigands, Tenlon reminded himself. Thugs for hire who killed for coin, these men would be shipped off to ports paying the highest; nations who feared their own army could be no match against the black forces who’d wreaked so much carnage against the great Amoria. Tenlon almost felt sorry for them. They had no idea what was coming.

“Whad’ya need?” an elderly tavern server asked as they approach the bar.

“A room,” Desik answered. “Second floor, facing west. With a window.”

The man grimaced. “Why so specific?”

Desik leaned in. “Second floor,” he said frigidly, placing a gold coin on the polished bar. “Facing west, with a window.”

The gold changed the man’s attitude immediately. “Specific!” he pointed his finger at them as he slid the coin into his pocket. “I like that! Follow me.”

The server unhooked a key from the wall and slowly ducked underneath the bar, leading them up a nearby flight of stairs. Candles were lit along the walls in the hallway and they were taken to their room, third door on the left.

“Second floor,” he said, sliding the key into the door and opening it. “Facing west. Anything else?”

“What have you to eat?” Tenlon asked.

Desik pushed him into the room. “No, nothing else,” he said, taking the key from the man and placing a few silver pieces in his hand. “We do not wish to be disturbed. No food, no water, no linens, no firewood. Understand?”

“Of course, but if you need anything--”

Desik closed the door before the man even finished speaking, sliding the lock bar into place. The room was sparse, with nothing more than two ugly beds and a wide window. The warrior moved to a pail of kindling next to the empty fireplace and started to dig through it. Tenlon was confused.

“Aren’t you hungry? I thought we were going to order some food. If I don’t eat soon, I think I might collapse.”

Desik stood up, holding a tiny twig. “You’ll get to eat,” he said, working the thin branch into the door jam, just below the locking bar, “when we get to our room.” He moved towards the beds.

“Our room? But I thought this was…”

Desik swung the window open and leaned out, looking to the alley below.

Tenlon’s gaze returned to the twig stuck in the door. If anyone entered from the hallway, it would fall to the floor. Desik was still trying to discover if they were being pursued.

Tenlon sighed.
Better careful than dead
, he thought.

“We’re not staying here, are we?”

The warrior was sitting on the edge of the open window now. He stared out into the darkness at the ground below before answering.

“Do you want to catch me,” he grinned, “or should I catch you?”

Chapter 11

Natalia awoke alone on her side of the bed, buried beneath a mountain of Karin’s hand-woven quilts. It was early evening in Corda and strange sounds drifted through the wide windows of her bedroom. A knot of tension throbbed in the base of her stomach and her throat burned with thirst.  Weak and dizzy, Natalia lifted the covers to see that she was dressed in a light gown of cotton she couldn’t recall putting on. Sitting up, she remembered that she should be terribly upset about something, but for the briefest of moments couldn’t remember what or why.

Then it washed over her again like an icy tide drowning her soul.

Goridai, the army, the dragons…Kreiden’s note.

Her husband wouldn’t be coming back.

His arms would never again hold her, giving her strength and happiness. There would be no children and no days without war or violence for the golden-haired champion. He will have lived and died by the sword. If the army was lost, then so was he. Kreiden would, as he’d written, stay to the end, until the death of his enemies or himself, he would fight beside his brothers to the last.

A champion first, a husband second.

She closed her eyes, squeezing them shut with every muscle of her face until the lights began to dance before her in the darkness. When you wed the warrior, you assumed the risk. Some men die while others live, and that’s all it was. There’s no cosmic plan to the world, no great map of interwoven destiny. They were just a boy and a girl who fell in love, and now that boy was gone.

A moan rose up in her throat as warm tears welled behind her eyes. Biting her lower lip, she forced the sadness deep inside, attempting to lock it away in the dim corners of her heart. Tears would not bring him back. Nothing would. Her man was lost to her.

She sat up and the dizziness was almost overwhelming, turning her blind for several frightening heartbeats before bringing her back to the world.

Why did she feel so dreadful? Her head pounded with a monstrous headache and her body felt sore and filthy. What was going on?

Then she saw the empty vial of Garik extract on a small table next to the bed, and the memory came rushing back.

“Oh no,” Talia whispered with dread, remembering what she’d done.

She fell back onto the mattress and pulled a sheet over her head. How could she have been so stupid? Taking so much of the medicine could have lowered her heartbeat enough to kill her!

“You’re awake,” Karin spoke harshly from the doorway. Natalia peeked out from beneath the sheet. Her handmaiden was dressed to ride in worn boots, mannish leather trousers and a heavy tunic covered by a fur-lined jerkin. The woman was not smiling. “How do you feel?”

“To be honest? A pinch on the queasy side.”

“You’ve been asleep for four days. You should feel dead.”

“Karin, I know what you’re thinking, but I didn’t…”

“Stop!” Karin waved her to silence, tone sharp as a blade. “Just stop. It’s not important now. You are awake and alive. I’ve been praying night and day for you to return to us, but you are here now and there are other matters we must attend to.”

Talia struggled to explain: “It was a mistake. Nothing more. I shouldn’t have drunk so much of it. I wasn’t…I wasn’t trying to…
hurt
myself. I just needed to rest. I didn’t want to dream, that’s all. Nothing more than that.”

“Nothing more than that? The surgeon was with you nearly all of the first night, and I spent that time considering where to bury your body.” Karin began to choke up. “Do you understand what I’m saying, Natalia? You are my only family, and I spent an entire night thinking about
where in the garden to bury you!
”

Natalia rose from the bed and moved to her handmaiden. Her footing was shaky but she managed to make it to the doorway. Karin tried to distance herself, still too upset from the last few days, but Talia finally wrapped arms around her and they both began to cry.

“I wasn’t thinking,” she whispered. “It was stupid. I know.”

“You must always be thinking,” Karin bit back. “You are strong, Natalia. You are smart and brave and wondrously kind. Whatever it was you were doing, however you were trying to cope, to find peace, that is not the way. What would Kreiden think if he knew? How would he feel?”

The thought made her cry even harder. “He’d never let me hear the end of it,” she blurted out with a tearful laugh.

“Right. And you’d never do something so foolish again, would you? You would never even
think
of it.”

“No,” Natalia promised, breaking the embrace. “I am so sorry Karin. Honestly. Never again.”

“Good.” Karin wiped her face clean with a sleeve, and the near-constant smile returned to her face. “No matter how bad things get, we will find a way through it. The both of us.”

“Yes,” Talia agreed. “The both of us.”

Karin stepped back and smoothed out her jerkin. She pointed to a bowl of water and a small stack of towels. “Clean yourself and come downstairs when you’re ready. The surgeon said we couldn’t move you until you awoke. Something about your heart rate dropping too quickly. He said you would be sore and ravenous when you came to.”

“We?” Natalia asked.

“Argos is downstairs, Natalia. He’s going to help us escape from the city. He says when you’ve awoken we are to leave at once.”

“Escape? What do you mean? What’s happened?”

Suddenly she heard a faint scream from outside and both women moved towards the nearest window. She leaned out and saw countless plumes of smoke rising into the sky. Numerous buildings were ablaze across the cityscape and she could sporadically hear the sounds of angry shouts and yells.

“What is happening?” she whispered.

“Goridai,” Karin shrugged her shoulders, saying the word as if it were the only explanation needed. “The news is ripping the capital apart. You were asleep for a long time and now the city is in turmoil. Riots, looting, arson. The populace has gone mad. People are being beaten to death, stabbed even. We’re lucky the house is in a less populated district. No one has climbed our walls or breached the gates yet, but the sounds I heard earlier were awful. I just sent the last of our servants home to their families. Save for Argos, we are alone now. So get packed. We are leaving as soon as you’re ready.”

“But why are they doing this? I wouldn’t have thought Amorians would ever act in such a manner. This is terrible.”

Her handmaiden could hardly answer. “The Stonewall garrison hasn’t been in contact with the city guards for days. We’re cut off from any help. Word has spread that the Volrathi are on their way here and what they bring with them is anyone’s guess. Argos feels strongly that we should be gone when they arrive, and I agree with him, so get moving.”

“Yes,” Natalia said, still watching the black plumes scrape the sky. “We must leave at once.”

Karin left her to prepare, heading downstairs to check on Argos.

Talia quickly stripped and cleaned herself with a damp towel. After patting herself dry, she rubbed scented oil into her tanned skin before moving to the wardrobe.

Her hands moved through the clothes with urgency, removing riding leggings of soft cotton, a thin belt, a heavy tunic of gray with drawstrings at the neck, and a hooded cloak of dark blue. She donned the garments and a pair of knee-high riding boots. Twirling the cloak around her, she attached it with an ornate brass brooch. Exiting the master bedroom, her boots stomped echoes through the long hallway as she moved into Kreiden’s armory.