Thorns in Shadow

by Sanan Kolva

  At the intersection, Kithr stopped and peered around the corner cautiously. He waved them to join him. “Which way, Tathren?”

  “Left here,” Cailean said. “There should be two pairs of wooden doors about halfway up—we’ll take the ones on the right.”

  Kithr nodded. “It’s clear so far. I’ll check ahead. Lyan, come with me.”

  Lyan started, but decided not to argue. He tried to imitate Kithr’s silent steps with marginal success. Fewer tapestries hung in this hall, and doors leading into places unknown dotted the left wall. Lyan drew a deep breath, and wondered if he only imagined he smelled fresh air. The hall curved until he couldn’t see Cailean and his men behind them. Kithr walked with bow in hand, an arrow on the string. Unease lay heavy in the pit of Lyan’s stomach.

  He saw the doors Cailean mentioned, unguarded. Lyan looked to Kithr, about to speak. He sensed movement in the air, then the sound of feet. The door he’d just passed swung open. Before he could spin around, a blade pressed against the side of his neck.

  “Lyan and Kithr… how unexpectedly convenient. I was just on my way to fetch you from the dungeon.”

  Lyan tensed sharply. “Torqual.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  By touch of darkness,

  Let your eyes see.

  Swear upon your life,

  That death may never be.

  Sharp steel rested against Lyan’s neck. His eyes moved to Kithr, who stood tense, ready to attack Torqual.

  “Wait,” Lyan mouthed.

  “I’d suggest you drop your bow, Kithr,” Torqual said mildly. “How did you get out? Of course. Why didn’t I think to find out what became of your Spear after your capture, Lyan? Probably because you have yet to demonstrate any skill with it.”

  “No, because you’re ignorant of the Spears and everything about them, Torqual,” Lyan answered coolly. “You should have realized already that a Spearbearer can both send the Spear away to safety and call it back in an instant.”

  “Give it to me.” Anger colored Torqual’s voice.

  “Are you even listening?” Lyan wondered at his own bravado. He felt no fear, only anger at Torqual’s arrogance. “You can’t take a Spear from its bearer. Didn’t you figure that out already with Cailean and Solstice?”

  “It’s only a matter of time before Cailean reveals where he hid his Spear.” Torqual started to reach forward.

  Kithr raised the bow. “Touch the Spear and lose your hand, traitor.”

  “I warned you, Kithr—put down your bow.” Torqual pressed the blade against Lyan’s neck, breaking skin and drawing a thin trickle of blood.

  “It isn’t my weapon you should worry about,” Kithr growled.

  “I’m not—not when Lyan stands between you and me,” Torqual sneered. “Give Equinox to me, Lyan.”

  Lyan seethed. My village dismisses my skills, Nylas and his men do, and even my enemies do! Lips curled back in a snarl. “The Spear is not yours!”

  Equinox responded. A burst of power threw Torqual backward, against the wall. Lyan spun to face the man, neck stinging from the shallow cut.

  An arrow flew past and sank into the wooden door where Torqual’s head would have been if he hadn’t ducked.

  Belatedly, Lyan sent a thought to Praett, knowing he should have done so the moment Torqual’s blade touched his skin. “Torqual’s here.”

  Torqual scrambled through the door. Kithr ran to Lyan’s side. “Are you okay, Lyan?”

  Lyan nodded. He heard Torqual’s retreating footsteps, and gave chase with Kithr at his heels.

  Lyan smelled fresh air, and glimpsed Torqual entering a courtyard. “Trap?” he asked in Elven.

  “Of course,” Kithr said. “Guard against arrows?”

  Lyan nodded, feeling a touch of power from Equinox. “Done.”

  Kithr nodded. “Leave the fighting to me.”

  Torqual stood at the far end of the courtyard and faced them. He’d picked up a buckler, and stood next to a pair of archery targets for cover. His eyes narrowed on the two elves.

  “Done running, Torqual?” Kithr sneered. He ignored the archers on the walls and the guards at the two other entrances to the courtyard.

  “You might as well put down the Spear, Lyan.” Torqual indicated the image etched on the buckler—a hand gripping two spears. “This bears the blessing of my god. Equinox’s magic cannot touch me now.”

  Lyan stiffened. Murdo can stop the power of the Spears?

  Kithr snorted. “You’ll believe anything the Mad God tells you, won’t you? Not that it matters. Lyan won’t be the one killing you. Any last words, traitor?”

  Lyan glanced at Kithr, surprised his friend would offer anyone the opportunity.

  “Last words? The last that you’ll hear, perhaps. It didn’t have to come to this.” Torqual’s voice grew deceptively pleasant, but eyes glittering with anger. “It shouldn’t have become so messy. Everything was going well. Everyone fit their parts and played them perfectly. Except for one little snag. One minor piece in the game with delusions of grandeur that didn’t move the way it was supposed to. One… damned… elf who won’t act like an elf!” He fixed a murderous glare on Lyan. “Why in Murdo’s name did you defend Aikan? The old fool spent the entire journey attacking you. You should have been like Kithr, ready to seize the first opportunity to be rid of him. If Cailean would have killed the old man, you two wouldn’t have split away from the rest on some fool’s errand to track him down.”

  Lyan’s eyes narrowed. “There may be no love lost between Aikan and me, but if I’m going to see the last of him, it’ll be because of something he does, not for a wrong he didn’t commit.”

  Torqual shook with fury. “Act like an elf. Cut down your enemy while he’s weak. What does it matter why?”

  “Lyan is acting like an elf,” Kithr cut in sharply. “Those you think of as elves—those like me, like Nylas and his minions—we’re the ones who are Lost. We are the ones who have forgotten how to act like elves, traitor, not Lyan.” His smile cut like ice in a winter gale. “You know what to expect from us. You know nothing of what to expect from an elf.”

  Torqual stiffened. His gazing moved to Kithr, then back to Lyan. His lips curled into a feral snarl. “This is your fault, Lyan! Archers! Go!”

  Lyan awaited the arrows, trusting Equinox to shield them. The shafts never came. When Lyan raised his eyes to the wall, he saw the smug pooka leaning casually against a battlement, satisfied.

  Torqual also looked up. From where he stood, he couldn’t see Praett, but he could see slumped bodies hanging over the edges of the walls. “What in Murdo’s name…?”

  “One thing never changes about Tathrens,” Kithr said, stepping between Lyan and Torqual. “They love to talk and boast when they should shut up and fight. And then they wonder how we outmaneuver them.”

  “Torqual.” Cailean stepped over the slumping body of a guard and into the courtyard from the entrance to Lyan’s left. “Surrender.”

  Torqual didn’t even look his way. His expression betrayed only longsuffering annoyance. “Lord Cailean. Of course. You are simply determined to throw all plans into chaos, aren’t you Lyan? I thought astrologers wanted order.”

  “There is no order when the Mad God is involved,” Lyan countered.

  “Of course there is. His order. The only kind that matters.” Torqual abandoned the archery targets and lunged forward, glare fixed on Lyan.

  Kithr dropped the bow and jerked his own blade free with barely enough time to block Torqual’s attack. Swords clashed. Lyan stepped out of Kithr’s way.

  Torqual’s expression said his true target was Lyan. He lunged again, and Kithr twisted away. Lyan had seen the move many times before, and felt a sinking dread in his stomach. He knew Kithr would follow with a cut at Torqual’s back. Torqual knew it as well. Lyan opened his mouth to call out a warning.

  Kithr stopped the swing before it started. His foot lashed out instead and slammed into Torqual’s unprotected shin. The Tathren stagg
ered. Kithr stepped in and grabbed the pommel of Torqual's sword. He twisted it up, trapping Torqual's arm and further unbalancing the Tathren. Torqual grunted and bared his teeth. Kithr jerked the sword from his grip and dropped it to the dirt.

  Torqual glared at Kithr. “Seems even an elf can learn new tricks. So what are you waiting for?”

  “You expect me to cut you down right now, don’t you? It’s what you’d expect of a bloodthirsty elven warrior lost to his people.” Kithr spat in the dirt. “Cailean, Torqual’s been your man longer than I’ve known him. That gives you first rights in dealing with him.”

  Cailean looked at Kithr in surprise. Torqual laughed, stepped away from Kithr and snatched his sword from the ground in the distraction. “You should have taken the chance when you had it, Kithr.”

  Cailean stepped toward Torqual, spear held ready. Torqual sneered and waited for Cailean to close the distance, then lashed at him. Cailean sidestepped the attack. Kithr moved back to stand by Lyan, picking up his bow. His gaze remaining on the two Tathrens.

  Lyan’s gaze was arrested by the duel before him. Torqual had stopped laughing, his expression as set and cold as Cailean’s. In the flickering light of the torches, Cailean jabbed at the man who had betrayed him. Torqual deflected with his buckler and slashed at Cailean. The blade tore through the edge of Cailean’s shirt, but didn’t draw blood. Cailean jabbed at Torqual’s stomach. Torqual twisted aside and counterattacked. Cailean had the advantage of reach, but he was hurt and worn, while Torqual moved as if he’d spent all day resting for this duel. Flickering torchlight cast shadows around the courtyard, distorting shapes.

  From the side, Lyan saw Aikan, Yion, and Shiolto watch from across the courtyard. Shiolto coiled to pounce at Torqual. Yion whispered something to Aikan and vanished into the shadows.

  “Your men are far too honorable, M’lord,” Torqual scoffed. His blade darted out, catching Cailean in a shallow cut on the arm. “Leaving you to fight me alone.”

  “Better than being traitors and followers of the Mad God!” Cailean snapped, winded.

  Torqual evaded Cailean’s attack with lazy ease, opening a gash on Cailean’s other arm. “Better than service to Murdo?” He laughed. “Well, Lord Cailean, while you are enjoying your honor in your grave, I’ll be enjoying the rewards my god gives those who serve him.”

  Torqual slashed at Cailean.

  Cailean’s spear to intercept the blow. The shaft cracked. Cailean staggered back. Torqual slashed at Cailean again. The blade scarred Cailean's leather coat, but didn't cut through.

  Aikan shouted in anger and bolted into the fray. Torqual turned, forced to answer the new attack before he could finish Cailean. Lyan sucked in a sharp breath and called on Equinox to shield Cailean. Murdo might protect Torqual, but if that effect didn’t extend to others near him…

  Torqual sneered, then gasped in surprise as Cailean stabbed the head of the spear under Torqual’s mail shirt and into his stomach.

  Cailean panted for breath. “Don’t get… too cocky…, you traitorous bastard.”

  Torqual snarled, lifting his sword. His arm shook. Cailean tore the spearhead free and stumbled back from Torqual, holding it like a dagger. “Damn you, Cailean Dev’gilla!” Torqual hissed. “Die!”

  He swept the sword down. Aikan shoved Cailean aside, and Torqual’s attack missed both men. Aikan lashed out. His blade sliced deep into Torqual’s sword arm, drawing fresh blood. Torqual shrieked and lost his blade again.

  He staggered back from Aikan, clutching his arm. Blood ran between fingers. More stained his stomach. Eyes darted around, finding enemies on all sides.

  Aikan pulled Cailean to his feet, watching Torqual with narrowed eyes.

  Torqual’s lips moved as if in plea… or prayer. “Lord Murdo, help me.”

  Kithr’s bow creaked. A raven-feathered arrow flew straight and true. Lyan drew a sharp breath as it passed through Torqual to stick in the archery target beyond. Torqual turned a pained, wicked grin to Kithr. “Should have taken the chance when you had it.”

  Shiolto ran at Torqual with a cry of anger, swinging his mace. As if Torqual had less substance than a ghost, the weapon passed through the air and met no resistance. The torchlight shone through him, and where he stood, no shadow fell. Even the blood flowing between his fingers didn’t stain the ground.

  Torqual’s face was pale with pain, but he still found a smirk. “Thank you, my lord.” Raising his eyes, he looked directly at Lyan. “A gift, until we meet again.”

  The soldier vanished without another sound. Equinox blazed a warning through Lyan’s mind. He stiffened, clutching the Spear as something crawled up his spine, oozing malevolence. He doubled over, feeling it digging its claws into his back.

  “Lyan!” Kithr said in alarm, catching his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

  Get it off! Get it off me! The words ran through his mind, but couldn’t find voice.

  Feet thumped on the ground and rushed to them.

  “What are you doing?” Kithr demanded.

  Praett answered. “Killing what you cannot see, mortal.” A strong hand ripped the thing from Lyan. Lyan heard a crunch, like a beetle underfoot, and he could breathe again.

  Kithr pulled him onto his feet. “Lyan, what happened?”

  “Something… attacked me.” Lyan turned to Praett. What was that?”

  Dark liquid dripped from Praett’s hand. His fingers curled around something invisible. “A banespawn fiend, master. A creature of Murdo.” Praett glared at Lyan. “Next time you use the Spear’s powers to protect the other Spearbearer, think about extending the same protection to yourself.”

  “Are you all right, Lyan?” Cailean leaned against Aikan for support. “Where’s Torqual?”

  “My master is mostly unharmed. Torqual is wherever Murdo chose to take him,” Praett answered. “But I don’t sense him anywhere in the keep.”

  Cailean grimaced as he bent to pick up Torqual’s sword. He drew a deep breath, and trembled with fury. He clenched his free hand into a fist, then relaxed. “Then we’ll worry about Torqual later. Time’s slipping away. Where’s Yion?”

  “Here, Lord Cailean.” Yion’s voice drifted from across the courtyard. “The remaining guards ran to raise an alarm, but I prevented them from doing so.”

  “All the noise we’ve made, and no alarms raised yet?” Kithr said. “Ewart’s defenses are deplorable.”

  “The servants probably know,” Shiolto said. “They just aren’t going to say anything or stop us.”

  Cailean nodded sharply. “Let’s move. Torqual already proved Kithr’s point about talking rather than acting.”

  “Lead the way,” Lyan said.

  Naked blade in hand, Cailean gave another sharp nod and took the lead.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two to bear the weight

  Of all the fates of men

  Lyan fought the urge to scratch his back. The sensation of claws still crept up his spine. He glanced at his companions and wondered what else might attack them. If it did, could he protect them before someone else was hurt—or killed?

  Kithr saw his anxiety and rested a hand on Lyan’s shoulder. “You all right?”

  “I didn’t think something invisible would attack me,” Lyan answered.

  “Lyan.” Kithr said his name firmly. “You aren’t going to expect everything, and you don’t have to. You’ve got the rest of us to watch your back for a reason. Blight, resent it though that monster might, the pooka has to protect you. It might complain, but it’ll find something to complain about even if you do everything perfectly.”

  Praett snorted. “As if that could happen.”

  Lyan found himself smiling. “Thanks.”

  “Just remember that you’re not alone, Lyan,” Kithr said.

  Only Kithr would know the importance of those words to Lyan. He nodded and said again, softly, “Thank you.”

  Cailean paused, hand raised for silence. Lyan listened, but nothing sounded strange. Cailean looked to
Praett. “No night watch to patrol the halls?”

  “In nights past, there has been,” Praett answered, frowning. “Except on nights when they performed certain rites to their god. Even Ewart’s hired thugs dislike the constant screams as victims are offered up.”

  A shiver ran up Lyan’s back. “Torqual intended to retrieve Kithr and me. He didn’t say why, but a Spearbearer… Wouldn’t that be a powerful sacrifice for the Mad God?”

  The others stopped and looked at him so suddenly Lyan wondered what he’d said wrong. “Oh blight…,” Cailean breathed. “Ewart’s master told me the time was nearly right, and he would show me the truth ‘when he held the Spear in his hand’. I assumed he meant Solstice, but if he meant Equinox instead…”

  “Some later time, my lord, we can all thank Torqual for underestimating Lyan,” Aikan said. Lyan looked at the older man in surprise. Aikan scowled back, and, realizing he had almost issued a compliment, added, “Or, we can thank Lyan for making it so easy for Torqual to underestimate him.”

  “He couldn’t have taken Equinox from me, in any case,” Lyan said. “Just like I told Torqual. Even killing me wouldn’t put Equinox into his hands.”

  “I’d believe Torqual doesn’t have any power that could take the Spears from their bearers,” Cailean said, “but for his master… I’m not so confident he couldn’t do something if one of the Spears lay in his reach.” He started walking again.

  Kithr suddenly cursed, and eyes turned to him. “Don’t stop,” he said sharply. “I heard a shout.”

  Cailean hurried his steps. “They won’t know where we are, though they might guess where we’re going.”

  “They do not have to know where we are, Lord Cailean. They have only to let loose the dogs,” Yion said.

  Lyan shivered. The last dogs he’d seen had been the black hounds of the reapers. The thought chilled him to the bone. His steps quickened of their own accord. “Are we close, Cailean?”