Tom clasped it and said, “For freedom.”
Storrstenn took authority like most people took breath.
“Tell me of your party.” He was gathering papers from the desk and herding the other dwarfs.
“Two humans, three elfs.”
“Details, lad, enlightenment lies in the details.”
“Um.” Tom was stood as best he could against the wall. “Are we going somewhere?”
“Yes, yes.” Storrstenn took papers from Maurstenn, pushed them into Sannvinn’s hands. “We must move quickly.”
“Where are we going?”
“That depends on what you tell me now.”
“Right.” The desk was being pillaged, piles of paper and even a few maps spilling out. “Um, two humans, one male, one female. The boy is linked to the fay. The woman is a Pathfinder.”
“Good, good.”
“Three elfs. Two Easterners, one female, one male. The male is the Shield of the Eastern Angles, Lord Neirin.”
That stopped Storrstenn in his tracks. He looked into the distance and rubbed his chin. “Very interesting. And the other?”
“His bodyguard.”
“And the other elf. A Westerner?”
“Yes, an exile.”
Storrstenn grinned. “Perfect.” He turned to the others. “Sannvinn, fetch your supplies.”
Sannvinn lit a candle from the lamp and left the room without question but Maurstenn began to fret. “We’re leaving?”
“Indeed. At last. Our moment has come.”
“Shouldn’t we wait for my friends?” Tom asked.
“I have waited many a day for this to come to pass.” Storrstenn had pulled a bag from behind the desk and was filling it with papers. “Make me wait no longer.”
“But what if we’re caught?” Maurstenn said.
“The cause, Maurstenn, the cause.”
“Yes.” The dwarf hunched against the wall, wringing his hands. “But leaving. It’s dangerous.”
“So is our meeting in this place.”
“That is different.”
Storrstenn sighed and gave Maurstenn a strained smile. “Everything will be fine,” he said. “Trust me.”
“We’ll be missed. They’ll search for us.”
“We’ll hide,” Storrstenn said. He pulled a few little boxes from a drawer, checked their contents and packed them.
“What if a patrol finds us on a road?”
“We won’t use roads,” Storrstenn said. “We’ll have a Pathfinder with us.”
Maurstenn bit his lip. He watched Storrstenn work. Then he said in a small voice, “It’s too dangerous.”
Storrstenn stopped and turned his eye on Maurstenn. “Do you trust me?” His voice was soft but not gentle. There was a dark undercurrent to it.
Maurstenn nodded. “But.”
“But what?”
“It’s not safe.” Maurstenn’s voice grew even smaller. “I can’t do it. I can’t.”
Storrstenn sighed and his eyes grew wet. “I understand, brother.” Sannvinn appeared in the doorway carrying a leather bag. “Sannvinn, take Master Rymour to our meeting place in the woods. I’ll be along promptly.”
She took the order without hesitation and without question. “This way.”
She led Tom back the way he had come. Her candle put out even less light than Dank’s sprite. “What about my friend?” Tom asked. “There was another human with me. I think he got lost in the dark.”
“Oh dear.” Sannvinn didn’t stop. “We will tell Storrstenn when he arrives.”
Tom hesitated. He shouldn’t leave Dank behind. Yes, the boy had left him. But had it been intentional? What if he’d simply lost his way? Sannvinn reached the stairs and turned back, and the flickering flame of the candle gave Tom a glimmer of a foresight. Not a sound or a sight. Just a feeling.
“Come, Master Rymour.”
He followed. What else could he do? Wander the wreck in the dark? He let her lead him down the stairs and across the cargo hold with accustomed ease.
“You come here often,” he remarked.
“As often as opportunity permits,” she replied. “It is not always easy to leave the village unnoticed.”
“Forgive me,” he said, “but you don’t seem like a revolutionary.”
She paused and though the candle threw menacing shadows onto her face, it was like a mask, blank, impassive. There was no emotion in her voice at all as she said, “I take no offence, Master Rymour, unless you meant to give it.”
“I did not.” Would that mask change if he said otherwise? Or would she still stare her blank stare?
She nodded. “Sometimes Tir makes us do things that are not in our nature.”
Tom reached back to touch a finger to Caledyr, calm and waiting.
Climbing out of the opening was more difficult for Sannvinn given her stature, but she didn’t accept any help. She reached the sand on her own, using the handholds, and waited for him to join her. Then she began to lead him away from the wreck, towards the dunes.
“My friends are coming here,” Tom said.
“We will watch for them.”
But it wasn’t necessary. As they walked, Tom saw two shadows coming out of the dunes ahead. Sannvinn froze.
“Your friends?” she asked.
There was no way of telling in the dark. “I think so.”
The shadows stopped and retreated. If they were natives, they would have no cause to. Unless they waited to ambush them. Tom drew Caledyr. The wind picked up again, buffeting them. The candle blew out. With cloud above, there was little light.
“Come on,” he murmured, and now he took the lead, towards the place where the shadows had been. Whether they were friends or foe, they needed meeting either way.
Light behind them, and the sound of running footsteps, and Tom whirled with the blade ahead of him.
But it was just Dank, his sprite in his hair. “Tom. There you are.”
“Where have you been?” He hadn’t meant to snap or raise his voice.
“We lost you.”
“I couldn’t have been hard to find.” But to his own ears it sounded like a childish grumble. He lowered the sword.
“We lost ourselves too.” Dank seemed oblivious to Tom’s anger. “We couldn’t find our way back, so we found our way out and waited for you. Who is this?”
“Sannvinn,” Tom said. The dwarf bent down to touch the ground before her and Dank mimicked the gesture. “She’s going to help us.”
“You found an ally.” The sprite’s light was obscured by Dank’s hair, but it was enough to show his expression. Surprised. Intrigued. Impressed.
“More than one.” Tom pointed the sword towards the dunes. “Come on. I think the others are over there.”
The sand grew softer beneath their feet as they trudged away from the shore.
“We’re sorry, Tom,” Dank said into the quiet. “We did not mean to lose you.”
All the boy had needed to do was retrace his steps. Even if the sprite couldn’t find him, there’d been a lit lamp and conversation to guide them. But Tom let it go with a sigh. “It’s fine,” he said, and meant it.
“We’re glad you are not angry with us,” Dank said, then murmured something unintelligible. The sprite leapt into the air in response, flying high above them. “A beacon,” he said. “For our friends.”
Sure enough, the shadows in the dunes reemerged. A voice called out a soft, “Tom?” Six. Tom raised a hand over his head and waved and the two figures came to meet them.
The first thing Katharine did was touch the ground and Sannvinn did the same. It must have been a dwarfish greeting. “Good evening,” she said. “I’m Katharine Delham, a Pathfinder.”
“Good evening. I am Sannvinn.”
“The pleasure is mine.”
“No indeed, it is mine.”
“What are you doing with a dwarf, Tom?” Six’s voice was low, wary, maybe even angry?
“I met some in the wreck,” he said. “They’re going to help
us.”
“Are they?” He didn’t sound convinced.
“That’s what they say,” Tom replied. “Where are Neirin and Brega?”
“Behind us,” Katharine said. “They would have been hard to explain if you were someone else.”
“These are the two Easterners you told us about?” Sannvinn asked.
“Yes.”
“You told them about us?” Six spoke like Tom had somehow betrayed everyone by introducing this dwarf to them.
“I had to,” was all Tom said to him.
Six met his gaze, daring him to say more. His face was hard under the sprite’s ethereal glow.
“Let’s go to the wreck,” Katharine said. “It’s cold out here.”
“We head to the meeting place,” Sannvinn said. “Storrstenn’s orders.”
“Orders?” Six’s voice was tight.
“Where is Storrstenn?” Katharine asked.
“In the wreck,” Sannvinn said. “He will meet us.”
“Perhaps we should meet him there?” Katharine said.
“Perhaps we should make our own way,” Six said. “We don’t need their help.”
“Can we really refuse it?”
“Tom.” Dank’s voice was a murmur amongst the nascent argument. “Look.”
Tom turned and followed Dank’s finger back towards the wreck. What was he looking at? There, a light. Flickering. A torch perhaps?
Smoke.
It was a fire.
Six was saying something about trusting dwarfs. “Quiet,” said Tom, clear and loud. “We need to move. Now.”
In the time it took the others to stop arguing and follow Tom’s gaze, the fire was licking at the hull, puffs of flame drifting into the night sky.
“What have they done?” Six growled.
“They’ve lit a beacon, that’s what they’ve done,” Katharine said. “Move. Now. Lead the way, Sannvinn.”
As they scrambled off the beach and into the dunes, the wreck began to burn.
Sannvinn hid them amongst the dunes, where the sandy earth sprouted grass and even a few small trees. They passed the time in whispered argument until Storrstenn arrived, and the dwarf was pelted by questions when he finally emerged.
“What happened?”
“What were you thinking?”
“Who do you think you are?”
“Where’s Maurstenn?”
Only the humans had nothing to say. Katharine touched the ground, which Storrstenn touched in return. Dank watched everyone. Tom noticed, with what little light they had, that Storrstenn’s face bore scratches.
“Give a dwarf a chance for breath,” he said, placing his hands on his knees. “I’m not as young as I once was.”
“We don’t have the luxury of rest,” Six said. “Not since you lit the biggest bonfire in the Kingdom.”
Even with the dunes blocking sight of the ship itself, the glow and the smoke were still visible. “As a distraction it will more than suffice.”
“This is Storrstenn?” Neirin asked. Tom had expected fury, outrage, pricked pride at having his authority taken by someone else. Instead he sounded tired. Defeated. Accepting of that defeat.
“It is,” Tom replied.
Neirin stepped forward, making no effort to kneel, crouch, or otherwise lessen his looming height. “My name is Neirin, Shield of the Eastern Angles. I lead this party. If you would travel with us, you will consult me before you do a thing like that.”
Storrstenn bristled. “Arguments can wait, gentle folk.” He was still proper but there was an undercurrent of resentment. “For the moment we must travel.”
“To where?” Neirin asked. “And how?”
Storrstenn motioned to Six. “Come forward. I cannot see you without the light.” Dank’s sprite hovered nearby, unseen to the dwarf without the Second Sight. The dwarf peered up at Six’s face. “Yes. You’ll do.”
“Do what?” Six asked. But Storrstenn ignored him.
“We are bound for Cairnalyst, Lord Neirin, by foot.” The dwarf hefted his bag of papers and trinkets. “I’ve obscured my trail as best I can, but perhaps our Pathfinder would be good enough to take on that duty, that her expertise may better mask our travels?”
Katharine nodded. “It’s a good idea,” she said. “People will be looking for the person who set that fire.”
“Perhaps they wouldn’t be if it hadn’t been set in the first place.” Brega sounded angry enough for everyone.
“Two dwarfs have offered their aid to you this night,” Storrstenn replied. “But we will be missed. The fire is a distraction. In the tumult that ensues, our absence will be noted that much later, and grant us opportunity for our escape.”
“What about the third dwarf?” Tom asked.
Storrstenn sighed. “Maurstenn remains,” he said. “His part of the plan. When our masters ask their questions, he will lead them astray in their searching.”
“I mislike this plan,” Neirin said. “And I mislike that you set it in motion without consulting us.”
“It’s too late now,” Katharine said. “And we’ll lose whatever advantage we might have gained if we wait.”
“She’s right,” Tom said. “We’ll be caught if we stay here. We’ve a better chance if we follow Storrstenn.”
“A dwarf can do little for us in the Kingdom,” Six said. “Better we leave them here.”
“How many of your kind are there in the Kingdom, master elf? Your best guess, if you will.”
“Thousands.”
“Hundreds of thousands.” Storrstenn pointed a finger at each of their little group. “I count six of you. Against that number you shall not prevail. But there are tens of thousands of thralls in this Kingdom that might ease our journey and rally to our cause.”
“And when did our cause become yours?” Neirin asked.
“When young Tom agreed to help me free my people.”
“He did what?” Six snapped.
“Tom? Is that true?” Katharine sounded aghast.
“It is.”
“I don’t think you know what that means,” she said.
“It means freeing a people that have been enslaved.”
Six snorted. “So you don’t know what it means.”
“Quiet,” Brega hissed.
Voices.
“Elfs,” Storrstenn said.
“We have to go,” Brega said. “I will not risk Lord Neirin to this squabble.”
Storrstenn grinned. He had won and he knew it. He turned and began to walk. “At your pleasure, gentle folk.”
As elfs rushed to the burning wreck, they slipped into the darkness and headed into the Kingdom.
With the beach left behind, the terrain quickly turned to grassland divided by hedges. Fields, Dank said, used to feed livestock. A farmer had a number of fields, alternating their use so as not to exhaust the earth and unbalance the elements in the soil. That meant there were plenty of empty fields to traverse. But, despite the lateness of the hour, Storrstenn advised them to silence.
“It would be a folly most dear should an errant word be the reason for our capture.”
So they marched in relative silence, Storrstenn and Sannvinn in front, Brega and Neirin behind, then Tom and Dank. Six helped Katharine obscure signs of their passing.
“They grow close.” Despite Storrstenn’s warning, Dank was in a talkative mood.
“So it seems,” Tom whispered.
“You appear to have upset them both.”
“I don’t understand how.” He had thought freeing the enslaved would appeal to both of them.
“They were your friends.”
“I hope they still are.”
“Your relationship with the Easterners. Cordial?”
“Yes.”
“More than that?”
He thought of the disagreement over Siomi’s mask. “I don’t think so.”
“Hmm.” Dank had absorbed his sprite back into his flesh, leaving little light to see his expression. “At least you have us.�
��
“You make me sound pitiful and friendless, Dank.”
“Is that is what you think of our friendship?”
“Of course not,” he replied quickly. The last thing he needed to do was offend the fay.
But Dank smiled. “Don’t worry, Tom. We know you. When the others turn against us, you will not stand idle.”
“Turn against you?” He looked ahead to the Easterners. Neirin was barely visible, though Brega’s shift and scarf could be made out. They walked, not talking, but together. A unit. Behind, Six and Katharine were focused on their work, the odd whispered instruction, question or comment sometimes audible. Six’s grey robes made him a wraith in the dark. “Why would they turn against you?”
“We unnerve people,” Dank replied. “Our speech. Our look. Even if they cannot see the sprite, they do not like how we talk, how we think, what we know. We are called unnatural, freak, abomination.”
“But we understand what you are,” Tom said. “We accept you.”
“They tolerate us because they have more important concerns. But once they’ve found comfort and rest and time to think beyond food and shelter, they will begin to hate us. All mortals do,” Dank murmured. “In the end.”
Tom opened his mouth to protest, to say it would not happen. But he could not; his gift stopped him. And he thought of what his other gift had shown him, the pair of them fighting over something. Perhaps Dank was right. Perhaps, before this was through, they would turn on him. It seemed unfair. Dank was not a bad person. True, sometimes it was uncomfortable to see the sprite forcing its way through his skin, or to hear him speak with the voice of another fay, or watch with eyes not his own. That was passing strange. Had Tom not spent so much time with the fay, it probably would seem unnatural. Evil, in a way.
Yet when the fay retreated, and glimpses of the boy came through, he seemed good at heart. Earnest, in a youthful way, eager to learn and excited to see new things. If there was not an abundance of kindness evident, there was at least no sense of malice, no cruelty in the boy himself.
Dank caught him watching and smiled. “You don’t need to pity us.”
Tom tried to say, “I don’t,” and failed.
His smile grew wider. “It’s all over your face, Thomas Rymour.”
He turned away. This field was coming to an end, a row of hedges that would block their path save for a gate. “Why stay this way?” he asked Dank. “If the mortals reject you, why not unbind yourself?”
The Realm Rift Saga Box Set Page 38
