by Sanan Kolva
Kithr grunted. “Enemies got into your keep as well, as I understand it.”
Cailean looked at Kithr. “The ones who came swarming over the walls and took the gates did, certainly.”
Kithr watched Cailean through narrow eyes. “And those are the only enemies who found a way in?”
“All the entrances were guarded,” Aikan snapped. “If anyone got inside, they did so by magic.”
Kithr laughed. “Magic to enter a Tathren stronghold? If that worked, we would have razed your peoples’ strongholds to the ground.”
Aikan fumed, but Cailean frowned. “What do you mean, Kithr? Why do you exclude magic as a possibility?”
Kithr eyed Cailean, then gave another short, sharp laugh. “Don’t tell me that I know more about your gods than you do. When your strongholds are built, you ask the protection of the Watcher on the Walls. It’s part of the dedication of the keep. That ritual ensures magic can’t be used against a besieged keep. No hostile magic, whether fireballs, or roots to undermine the foundation, or spells to allow an intruder to appear inside the keep, work when the caster is outside the walls. Once they get inside, no restrictions exist, but first, they have to get in.”
The Tathrens all stared at Kithr. Finally Cailean asked, “How do you know this?”
“When we found something blocked our magic, we questioned some priests. They proved very informative.”
“But,” Shiolto cut in, “mist covered Lord Ca… the keep when it was attacked. That wasn’t natural.”
“Then someone grew creative. The mist’s origin must have been outside the walls, and they let the wind move it,” Kithr said.
Lyan knew Kithr told him all this for a reason, and he knew he should understand why, but his mind wasn’t on the attack on Cailean’s keep. “Well, we aren’t trying to get into Cailean’s keep, we’re trying to get into this one, and our access to magic is limited.”
“Then we must go and see for ourselves what means we can find to achieve our goal,” Yion said.
“That means we can leave, right?” Shiolto asked hopefully.
Cailean looked to Kithr. “Will you be all right here?”
Kithr snorted. “Worry more about yourself, Tathren, and about what I’ll do if you let anything happen to Lyan.”
“I haven’t forgotten since the last time you warned me,” Cailean answered dryly.
Kithr pushed away from the wall and walked to the door. “Then hurry up, before these fools manage to get around Shadowstar long enough to eat one of your horses.” He paused to look at Lyan and spoke softly in Elven. “One last thing to remember, Lyan: show them no weakness. Act as you would with any wild, dangerous, starving animal—don’t give them reason to think you’re vulnerable.”
One of the elves who’d been with Milosh stood guard in the passage outside the door. He scowled at them, but Lyan had yet to see any other expression on the other’s face. “Are you ready?” snapped the elf.
Lyan met the glower without flinching. “Yes.”
Without another word, the elf turned and marched up the tunnel. Lyan followed, and heard the others behind him. The return to the surface felt faster than the descent had been, and Lyan breathed a sigh of relief once he stood under open sky. He blinked rapidly, one hand raised to shield his eyes. Afternoon sun shone through the trees, painful after the dark tunnels, leaving Lyan to wonder how long he’d slept.
All around the camp, elves watched them. The children had cleared away their work and joined the adults in hostile study of the Tathrens. Lyan clutched Equinox. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t ignore that they were his people, some even friends he’d grown up with. He couldn’t ignore the accusations in their eyes when they looked at him in the company of Tathrens.
How can I make them see that the Tathrens don’t have to be our enemies? How can I make them see I haven’t betrayed them?
I can’t change their minds in a day. If we help them, maybe they’ll listen. Lyan considered what Kithr had told him. But if they really are Lost, there’s nothing I can do.
He looked around the camp. “Our horses?”
Lyan heard Shadowstar snort before any elves answered, and the stallion herded the rest of the horses to their group. Reaching Lyan, Shadowstar roughly butted his nose against Lyan’s chest, and Lyan rubbed his head.
Patch spoke, breaking the stillness. “Is that a horse, or a guardian spirit?”
Lyan turned to her, surprised by the question. “Shadowstar is a horse. But the herders of the Appret Plains say he’s roamed the grasslands for as long as their history tells.”
“Has he?” She walked to Lyan and brushed her hand over Shadowstar’s shoulder. The girl reached into her pocket and pulled out an iron key. “Take this. Perhaps it will open something for you. The man who carried it before doesn’t need it any longer.”
Lyan held out his hand. She set the key in it and folded his fingers over it. “Thank you,” he said.
“Do not lose it,” Patch told him, surprisingly serious.
Lyan nodded, though he couldn’t begin to guess what it would unlock. “I won’t.”
“Lyan. You’re wasting time,” Kithr cut in.
Lyan jerked his head in understanding. “How far to this keep?”
Milosh watched him warily, on edge the longer Patch stood beside Lyan. He pointed. “A day’s march east.”
Lyan looked to Kithr. His friend met his eyes and gave a short, curt nod. Then Kithr turned and walked back to the tunnel. Patch stepped back to rejoin her people.
Shadowstar snorted and nudged Lyan impatiently. Lyan complied with the unspoken order and climbed into the saddle, then nodded to Cailean and his men. He didn’t have to ask if they were prepared. Even if they weren’t, the Tathrens were eager to leave.
The wall around the camp peeled open to let them out. Thorny branches grabbed at clothes and slapped at faces. Lyan glowered at the brambles. “Enough. We know you don’t like us. The longer you delay us, the longer you have to suffer our presence.”
The branches rustled angrily, and once they passed the barrier, it sealed behind them with a hiss of leaves. Lyan suppressed a shiver. Shadowstar chose the path, and the other horses followed. Lyan glanced over his shoulder, and realized all the horses had followed, including the two pack animals and Kithr’s horse. He recalled the gaunt elves and knew if they’d left any animals behind, they wouldn’t have gotten them back.
Lyan patted Shadowstar’s neck. “Thanks for watching over them.”
Shadowstar snorted and tossed his head in reply, stepping up to a swift walk. No one broke the stillness for a while.
“I don’t like leaving someone behind,” Shiolto said in genuine concern. “Will Kithr be all right?”
Aikan laughed sharply. “You’re worried about an elf who invaded our country and murdered our people? He’s back in the company of fellow killers. You should be asking whether he’ll greet our return with anything but arrows. Just like the rest of those filthy scum.”
Lyan gripped Equinox’s shaft tight.
“How can you say that, Aikan?” Shiolto demanded.
Aikan sneered. “Are you blind? What do you really think he’d rather do: travel with Tathrens, or kill them?”
“He’ll come with us,” Shiolto snapped. “He said he would. And he isn’t going to abandon Lyan.”
“Having returned to the brotherhood of the invaders and killers who have continued their attacks on our people, despite the war being ‘over’, as Lyan is so fond of telling us, I have doubts that elf will be interested in keeping our company.” Aikan’s voice was cold.
Shiolto made a sound of exasperation. “Lyan, tell Aikan he’s wrong.”
Lyan said nothing. I’m a fool to think I can convince these elves to see Tathrens as anything but enemies. I can’t even convince Kithr. What makes me think I can change anyone else’s mind? He’s right. Kithr would be happier staying here than continuing with me. I’ve been forcing him to follow me on a mission he’d rather end
by killing Cailean and all his men.
“Well?” Aikan scoffed.
Lyan gritted his teeth. He wanted to lash out, to strike someone, to wipe the smug sneer he could hear in Aikan’s voice off the man’s face.
“Aikan, shut up,” Torqual said. “Your every word announces your ignorance of what it means to be a soldier. Kithr will do his duty.”
Lyan glanced over his shoulder at the men. Aikan glared daggers at Torqual now, and the weight of his gaze no longer pressed on Lyan. Shiolto walked his horse by Lyan, concerned.
“Are you okay, Lyan?” Shiolto asked softly.
“I don’t like being here,” Lyan answered as quietly. “This whole forest is steeped with hate. It oozes from every fiber of every plant…” He shuddered.
“It does,” the Tathren agreed. “So why in the gods’ names do you think Kithr might want to stay here?”
Lyan didn’t answer.
“Come on, Lyan. You don’t actually believe what Aikan said, do you?” Shiolto pressed.
“No,” Lyan lied. From Shiolto’s expression, his tone failed to convince.
Shiolto just sighed and shook his head. “Kithr’s not going to stay here, Lyan. If nothing else, he’s as stubborn as you are, and isn’t going to back down on his vow to protect you from us. All right? Trust him.”
Lyan nodded and said nothing. Shiolto shook his head and fell quiet again.
When Shiolto spoke again, it was on a different subject. “Lyan? Why do you think Kithr said all that about magic and our keeps? Was he just warning you, so you wouldn’t try to get inside using…”
“Using the power I’ve been given?” Lyan finished as Shiolto searched for a way to not announce that Lyan carried Equinox. The Tathren nodded, and Lyan thought. “That might have been his reason… or one of his reasons.”
“I don’t understand his interest in anyone sneaking in during Ewart’s attack on us. That didn’t have anything to do with elves at all.” Shiolto shrugged. “I guess that’s good to know, though, even if it doesn’t mean much now.”
Lyan nodded distractedly. Why did Kithr tell us that? What am I supposed to understand from knowing Cailean’s enemy couldn’t have used magic to get inside?
His breath caught. When was Cailean cursed? During the attack on the walls, or before? Did the mage get in before the breaching of the gates?
Did someone let the mage inside?
His gaze drifted over his companions again as he recalled another whisper of treason. For much of their journey, Cailean and his men had been pursued by a pooka. The shapeshifting monster took an interest in Lyan, taunting him, even daring him to attempt to bind it while it played tricks and games for its amusement. The pooka had even hinted to Lyan that someone among Cailean's men served Ewart. Did the pooka tell the truth about a traitor in our group?
The forest reluctantly gave way as the sky darkened to night. Lyan looked to the sky as clouds shrouded the moon and hid the stars, as they had without fail for too many nights. He rested a hand on Equinox. The Shrine had given him the stars, but not for long, and not the true sky. Cailean’s enemy still hid the stars, still denied Lyan his astrology. Did the signs reveal Equinox had been found? That his search would lead to nothing? Or did he search as much for the Shrine as for the Spear itself? Venycia, leader of the Guardians of the Spear, had said minions of Murdo, the Mad God, sought the Shrine in the hopes of taking Equinox when the Spearbearer died. Lyan shivered again, then looked over his shoulder at the forest. Thorns and brambles choked even the path they’d followed.
How can my people keep fighting when these clouds tell of a far more dangerous enemy? Don’t they look up? Don’t they see? Or have they lost their way so completely that they hold nothing sacred any longer? Do any wonder why the astrologer of Heartshrine Village is in Tather and not performing his duty to his village?
“Lyan.” Cailean leaned over and rested a hand on his arm.
Lyan started and tried to collect himself, realizing he didn’t know how long he’d been staring blankly at the sky. “Sorry. What did you say?”
“Are you going to be all right?”
“I’m just being the fool stargazer again,” Lyan said. “I’m fine.”
“You’re no fool, Lyan, and don’t believe anyone who says otherwise, whether they’re your people or mine.”
Lyan shook his head. Cailean’s men had moved ahead, using the muted moonlight to guide their way. Shadowstar waited patiently for Lyan to signal him to continue on. “Cailean, I need to ask you something.”
“What is it?”
“When Ewart attacked your home, the one who cursed you… did he reach you before the assault on your walls, or after?”
Cailean stiffened. “Lyan, why ask about that now?”
“Because of what Kithr said about magic and Tathren keeps. When did it happen, Cailean?”
Cailean’s voice dropped to a whisper, though none of his men should have been close enough to hear. “Before. Before the assault on the walls. I could hear it starting outside.” He shuddered, hands closing in fists. “He laughed… said no one would hear me or help me.”
“Why did he leave you alive?” Lyan asked, a question that had lurked in his thoughts. “If he wanted the Spear, then why…?”
Cailean gave a thin smile. “I couldn’t call for help, and no one knew I needed help. Before he could take advantage of my weakness, my men found me. He vanished when my soldiers burst in to alert me to the attack.” He let out a deep breath. “If they hadn’t come when they did, though, I think they would have found a corpse. Why are you asking, Lyan? What does it have to do with this?”
“Only that he had to get inside by some means other than magic. Either he found some path, like Yion did, that no one knew, or…”
“Or someone let him in.” Even in the moonlight, Lyan saw the Tathren lord pale. “Are you implying one of my men… maybe even one with us now, betrayed me, Lyan?”
“Only that it’s possible, Cailean. I don’t know anything for sure, and I have no proof.”
“You think one of my men is a traitor?”
Lyan said nothing.
“I trust my men, Lyan.”
“Then perhaps you should not try so hard to convince me I’m not a fool.” Lyan nudged Shadowstar, and the stallion joined the rest of the horses.
They found a road, and the horses followed it at a quick walk. They could have pushed faster, but the darkness hid holes and stones in the road, and the thump of hooves on packed dirt would draw attention in the middle of the night. They passed a few villages, and left the road to give them wide berth. Even so, a dog started barking at one village, the sound following even after they left the hamlet behind.
The first faint pale light of dawn touched the sky when Cailean ordered them off the road. Lyan wondered why, but Shadowstar followed after Cailean’s horse. Lyan’s looked again to the sky and sent a silent prayer to the elven gods. He hoped they could hear him so far from Eilidh Wood. To properly pray, he should be kneeling at a shrine, but he doubted he would find any such sites dedicated to his gods in Tather.
Soldarr, Feyra, Tesseia, please watch over and guide us. Help us free these prisoners. And please, keep Kithr safe.
They topped a rise, and Lyan stared ahead. He’d heard of keeps and fortresses, great structures of stone walls. Kithr had described some he’d seen, and Shiolto had talked about Cailean’s keep, but Lyan’s mind had conjured foggy images of rude rock walls such as he’d seen around villages. His first sight of the massive wall, with towers and parapets, sent his feeble mental images crashing to the ground. Lyan stared up at the forbidding structure commanding the hill—a barrier as immoveable and unyielding as a mountain.
We have to get into this? How?
His gaze moved over the wall until he found the gates. He drew a sharp breath.
“Lyan? What is it?” Cailean asked.
Lyan swallowed hard, looking at three shapes dangling over the gates. “Bodies.”
Cailean
grimaced, then turned his horse back down the rise. “Let’s go before someone notices us.”
Lyan followed him, and the hill blocked the structure from sight once again. They stopped under some trees and tied the horses. Lyan sat against a smooth trunk, feeling small and insignificant. How can anyone imagine attacking something like that?
Cailean paced, shaking his head and looking deep in thought.
“Have you been in the keep, Lord Cailean?” Dalrian asked.
“Not for many years,” Cailean asked. “I learned a few less obvious ways to get around when exploring with Ewart’s bastard, but I doubt I could find them now.”
“All right. We might find a servants’ entrance along the wall, or, possibly, the sewer.” Dalrian grimaced at the thought.
Cailean raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“I used the ones in your keep all the time,” Dalrian said. “Even managed twice during the siege.”
Cailean’s eyes narrowed. “You left passages open into my keep while we were under siege?”
Dalrian hesitated. “No sir. They were always guarded, even when someone went out. I… thought you knew. I always told Aikan or sent someone to tell him before I went out.”
Cailean looked at Aikan. The older man shifted uncomfortably. “You had more important things to worry about, my lord. I personally checked each passage’s security.”
“Lord Cailean, Dalrian and I will search the wall for suitable entrances,” Yion interrupted smoothly. “Should we find any, we will report at once.”
Cailean scowled, then nodded. “Go. Be careful.”
“We shall.” Yion bowed, then caught Dalrian’s arm and pulled the Tathren after him, removing him from the range of Cailean’s fuming.
Cailean turned to Shiolto, voice sharp. “Did you know of these additional entrances to my keep?”
“Um… I knew Dalrian didn’t tend to leave by the main gate, sir.” Shiolto looked like a mouse trying to edge away from a hungry cat. “I didn’t know you didn’t know, sir.”
“And you, Torqual? Did you know?”
“During the rotation of posts, I guarded those entrances at times, sir,” Torqual answered. “And, as he said, Aikan regularly checked that we manned our posts and remained on guard during the siege.”
