“On the roof?”
Bek laughed again. “No. He just uses the roof to call her.”
Ayrion thought that seemed a dangerous way to find female company. Did it think the added height was going to increase the range of its cry? Or simply impress the female with its prowess?
“As long as he’s carrying on,” Bek said, “we shouldn’t have to worry about something else roaming around unnoticed.”
Ayrion nodded, and the two men headed back to the front window to keep watch. They sat on either side of the glass and studied the tree line on the other side of the road.
Ayrion bit off a piece of salted pork and listened to the branches beating against the side of the house. The forest was alive with song: the frogs croaking out their melodic chorus, the occasional hoot owl, the lonely night fox on the roof, barking out its mournful cry. Ayrion almost hoped some poor lady fox would take pity on the wretched animal.
“What’s your story?” Bek asked, keeping his voice down. “You don’t exactly strike me as someone who fancies the nomadic life.”
Ayrion twisted on his seat, his black leathers creaking under the movement. “Honestly, I wish I knew.” Bek passed him a funny look, so he went on to explain the injuries he’d sustained during the battle between Elondria and Cylmar and the loss of memory as a result.
Bek rubbed at the wooly growth on his face. “I’ve heard of that kind of thing happening before, but I’ve never met anyone who’d actually experienced it.”
“I can’t say it’s all that pleasant.”
“Suppose not.” Bek stared out the window for a moment, then turned back around. “This might be poking my nose where it doesn’t belong, but why are you traveling around the countryside with a couple of tinkers and not galloping as fast as you can back to Aramoor? Seems to me that would be the best place to start if you want to put the pieces of your life back together.”
Ayrion had spent many a restless night staring up at the curved planks of the old green-and-gold tinker wagon thinking the same thing. “Yes. The answers I need are in Aramoor, and if I ever hope to move forward, that’s where I’ll need to go.”
“Then why are you here?”
Ayrion could hear Tameel’s voice in the back of his head telling him to lie, but there was something about the big trapper, a gut feeling Ayrion couldn’t explain, that encouraged him not to. For some reason, he trusted the man. So, he told Bek who he was, or at least who he thought he was. He told him of the fight with the Black Watch and the sniffer in Woodvale, of the discovery of his name and identity.
“You’re the Guardian Protector? The Guardian Protector?” Bek looked at Ayrion like he was seeing him for the first time. He sat back on his stool and wiped his forehead. “I don’t know if I should be impressed or worried.” He leaned forward. “What’s it like, working with the king?”
“I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh, right. Sorry.”
“So, you can see why running back to Aramoor without my memories would be about as foolish as marching men into battle without scouting the terrain. Without a single memory of my prior life, I wouldn’t know who to talk to or where to even begin. If I am this Guardian, it stands to reason that most in Aramoor would recognize me. It would be hard to hide in a city where everyone you meet might know you.”
“Why is that a bad thing? Isn’t that the point in going back . . . to find people who knew you?”
“Yes,” Ayrion said, “but from the way Tameel and Zynora said they found me, and the fact that the king somehow died while in my service, going back might not be the best thing right now. At least not until I can recover more of my memories.”
“Guess that makes sense.”
The bedroom door behind them opened, and Nell stepped out with Zynora’s help.
“Bek,” Nell said, steadying herself on the doorjamb. She had a troubled look on her face.
Bek jumped to his feet. “What’s wrong?”
“They’re coming.”
Chapter 28 | Ayrion
AYRION STOOD AND DREW both swords. The night fox had stopped its calling. In fact, he couldn’t hear anything beyond the cabin’s walls. How long had the fox been silent?
Bek crossed the room with the speed of a panther, wrapping an arm around his wife to help her stand. “How do you know they’re coming?”
“I can feel them.”
“You can? Where?”
“In here,” she said, pointing to her head. “It’s like I can sense them.”
“Animal instinct,” Zynora said. “Like when you sense someone is watching you even though you don’t see anyone.”
“Yes,” Nell said. “It’s like that. But stronger.”
“I think we might be dealing with vulraaks,” Zynora said.
Ayrion peered out the front window. “What are vulraaks? I thought these were people from Belvin.”
“They are,” she said. “Or were. The term vulraak is from the Old Tongue. It means people of the shadows. Most of what I know of them is from very old books that’ve been handed down through the Rhivanni for generations. Vulraaks were created by Aerodyne and his followers back during the Wizard Wars.”
“The Dark One created these things?” Bek asked. “Are you saying . . . he’s back?”
“No,” Zynora said. “If he were, I think we’d know it. The whole world would know it.”
“How sure are you about this?” Ayrion asked, not understanding how something like this could simply show up in the middle of nowhere.
“Well, no one in the last thousand years has ever seen one.”
“So, you could be wrong,” Bek said, more a statement than a question.
Zynora shrugged. “I could be.” She gave Nell a sympathetic look. “But I don’t think so.”
Bek looked at Nell. “And you feel these things?”
She nodded.
“How do we fight them?” Ayrion asked, trying to shift the conversation to what really mattered. Now wasn’t the time to debate who or what they were, only how best to kill them. From what he’d seen, they were flaming tough to take down.
“There’s not much written about them, except what we’ve already seen so far, which is that sunlight is anathema to them.”
“It’s also the one thing we don’t have,” Ayrion said.
“What do they want?” Bek asked. “Clearly, they possess some reasoning. Nell talked to us.”
Nell’s head shot up. “I did? What did I say?”
“Nothing important, dear,” Zynora said, biting her lower lip, something Ayrion had noticed she did when in deep thought.
“From what I saw during our battle at the rover camp, these things feed on blood and flesh.” Ayrion turned and look at the others. “But we also saw they can be killed.”
“Can’t we try to help them like you did me?” Nell asked.
“It took nearly everything I had just to bring you back,” Zynora said as she walked over to the hearth on the left and grabbed a striker from the mantel. “I can’t imagine what it would take to rid an entire city of such a plague, especially a city as large as Belvin.” She knelt and lit the kindling.
“Won’t that let them know we’re here?” Bek asked.
“If they’re coming like Nell says, then they already know we’re here. No need to freeze to death while waiting for them to arrive. Besides, wouldn’t want these things crawling down the chimney with our backs turned, now would we?”
“Hadn’t thought of that.” Bek helped his wife to a seat in the kitchen, as far away from the front as possible.
“Can you sense how many are out there?” Ayrion asked Nell.
Nell shook her head, hunkering down next to Zynora.
“How close are they?” Bek asked, taking his seat opposite Ayrion at the front.
There was a long moment of silence before she spoke again. “Close. I think.” Ayrion could hear the frustration in her voice. “I’m sorry I don’t know more. I can only sense their hunger. And what I’m feeling is get
ting stronger.”
“That could mean they are getting closer,” Ayrion said. “Or that their numbers are increasing.”
Bek looked at Ayrion. “Don’t like the sound of that.”
Neither did Ayrion.
“I’m sorry I can’t be more help,” Nell said.
“It’s fine, dear,” Zynora said, putting her arm around the woman. “You’ve been plenty helpful.”
“I don’t want this feeling. Will it go away? They’re in my head.”
“I’m sure it will with time and plenty of rest.”
Ayrion had been around Zynora long enough to tell when she was stretching the truth, even if only to give comfort. Zynora had no idea if it would ever go away. Right now, though, it gave them an advantage. And they needed all the help they could get.
Ayrion didn’t say it, but he felt it too. There was something out there. “They’re here,” he said. He scanned the trees but still didn’t see anything. Where are they? The silence was unnerving.
A sharp cry pierced the night, and the sudden sensation of fear punched Ayrion in the chest. He stood. It sounded like—
“The horses!” Ayrion ran for the front door and threw the bracer open.
“What the blazes do you think you’re doing?” Bek shouted.
“I’ve got to save the horses!”
“Are you mad? You need to save us!”
“Bolt the door behind me.” Ayrion ripped both blades from their sheaths and charged around the side of the house. He heard the door slam shut behind him.
The horses’ cries were wild and desperate. Ayrion didn’t know why, but he could sense the stallion’s pain. He had no real memories of the warhorse other than the brief glimpse of him on a rise in the middle of battle, but there was an unmistakable bond. He tightened his grip on the swords and sprinted across the open ground between the cabin and the barn. His leather coat flared open as he ran. He slowed as he neared the front. The doors were ajar, and he could see movement inside.
The moon lit the front opening, giving Ayrion’s Upakan eyes plenty to see with as he raised his swords and slipped inside. Stacks of barrels and racks of tools lined the wall to his right. A stairway led up to the loft, which was packed with bales of hay.
To his left, three of the four horses were bucking in their stalls, struggling to fend off their attackers. Eyes gleamed from the shadows as the vulraaks’ dark orbs reflected the moonlight. They fought to sink their teeth into the horses’ meaty backsides. The mare in the first stall was down, three or four of the white-skinned creatures on top of her. Like the other half-humans he’d seen attacking the rover encampment, they were dressed in rags, their clothing shredded by dagger-like claws.
The door on the last stall flew off its hinges as the enormous warhorse kicked. The door caught a vulraak in the chest and threw it into the far wall, where it crumpled and went still. The others hissed, turning on the warhorse, until they noticed Ayrion.
Two leaped from the railing to his left and hit him in the chest. The first buried its teeth in his arm, and the second cut a wide opening across his stomach with its claws. Pain swallowed him, and he tried to scream, then everything shifted.
Another vision.
The two creatures leaped from the railing, and he spun, blade outstretched, opening both creatures right below the rib line. They landed on their own insides and didn’t move.
Three more attacked from behind in a flanking pattern, displaying a higher level of cunning than he had seen at the camp. Had the vulraaks gone after the horses to draw them out? Were they trying to get rid of their only means of escape? Or did it just seem like an easy meal?
Ayrion whirled and kicked the first in the chest. He heard ribs snap, and the creature hit the ground. He removed the head of the second with his right sword while skewering the third with his left. Like the woman he had killed the previous night, the third creature didn’t die right away, swinging wildly as it reached for Ayrion with its claws. Ayrion turned his shoulder to protect his chest, and the claws tore through his coat.
Pain seared his shoulder, but he managed to kick the creature back far enough to pull his blade free and then remove its head. The same black mist that had come out of Nell floated into the air and dissipated. That hadn’t happened with the first group of vulraaks they had killed at the Nathillian camp. Was it because they hadn’t fully transformed yet?
The first creature Ayrion had kicked was back on its feet and charging. It shrieked as it ran across the straw-covered floor. A vision took over, and Ayrion ducked to the side to miss getting hit in the face. The creature skidded to a stop in front of the last stall. The warhorse inside reared and landed a kick that caved in the side of the vulraak’s skull. Its body cartwheeled across the barn and slammed into a beam on the other side.
Ayrion pulled the horse out of the stall. “Go! Get out of here!” The warhorse turned and looked him in the eyes, obviously worried.
“Go. I’ll be fine.”
The horse whinnied and bolted out the front.
A screech behind him had Ayrion diving to dodge another set of claws. He turned and chopped the creature’s arms off at the elbow. Blood as black as scrivener’s ink poured from the stumps.
The armless vulraak squealed in pain but continued forward. Ayrion had to admire its tenacity. He kicked the creature in the knee to drop it face-first into the dirt. He plunged his blade down through the back of its neck, releasing more of the black vapor into the air.
He spun, his swords up and ready, but there was no other attack. He took a moment to look around the barn. Every vulraak he found was dead. Not waiting for more to show up, he opened the other stalls, freeing Bek’s and Zynora’s horses. Both had sustained deep wounds but not enough to keep them from bolting out the door.
A gurgled whinny from the first stall let Ayrion know the poor mare inside was still alive. He glanced over the rail. She was on her side, her coat bloody and torn with bite marks. Blood seeped from her flared nostrils.
He opened the door and stepped inside. “Whoa, there. Shh, it’s all right.” She tried raising her head, one dark-brown eye watching him. He steeled himself for what he knew was coming. “It will be over soon.” Lowering his sword, he slid the blade into the back of her neck, severing the spine. Her head dropped to the side, and she went still.
Ayrion took one last look around the barn, then closed the doors on the way out. The surrounding forest was silent. Was that the end of it? Maybe these had just been passing through and the rest were somewhere else.
He left the barn and headed back to the cabin, keeping his swords in hand as he moved quietly across the grass. A cold breeze rustled the bare limbs on the trees and sent a shiver down his back. Up ahead, a soft glow poured from the front window, spilling light across the flower beds.
A vision struck, and he dove to the ground, a gust of wind rustling his hair as something swooped past his head. He rolled back to his feet and spun, blades up.
An enormous vulraak rose from where it had landed and turned to face him. This creature was something new, far deadlier than anything they’d faced yet. It was at least ten feet tall and made the sniffer back in Woodvale look positively harmless. In its hands, it held a piece of wrought iron big enough to have easily cloven Ayrion in two had it made contact.
Unlike the other vulraaks, this creature’s eyes were bloodred. Ayrion had thought nothing could have been more disturbing than those black, soulless eyes. He was wrong. Its bare white chest rippled with muscle, and around its neck swung a chain with a dark piece of rock attached to the end.
As Ayrion sized the creature up, he realized his hands were shaking. And it wasn’t from the cold.
He crouched, waiting to see what the hulking giant would do. The vulraak didn’t appear to be in a hurry. It let the tip of its sword drag across the ground, like a plow furrowing up a row, as it took up a position between Ayrion and the door. About ten feet of grass was all that stood between them.
A scraping so
und announced the bracer being removed.
“Get in here, you fool!” Bek shouted from the crack in the door.
How am I supposed to do that, he wondered, with a creature like this blocking the way? Ayrion took a step to the right, and the vulraak lunged.
“Bolt the door!” he yelled at Bek, then jumped, sailing over the thick piece of iron swinging for his midsection. He rolled to his feet and lunged at the creature’s exposed back. The vulraak turned with astonishing speed and deflected the blow, but not before Ayrion nicked the thick sinew of the creature’s upper arm. Their blades touched, and sparks flew in all directions.
Ayrion pulled back and the two began circling.
“You seem a worthy opponent,” the vulraak said with a booming voice. He wiped the tip of his finger through the dark blood seeping from his arm and licked it clean. “Yes, I recognize the taste of your steel. The magic is familiar. Your metallurgist is talented.”
My metallurgist? What was this creature talking about? In fact, why was he talking at all?
“How is it you know my weapons? I’ve never seen your like before.” He couldn’t be sure if he had or not, but in his gut, he didn’t believe so.
The vulraak smiled. “If you had, you wouldn’t be alive to tell about it.”
Ayrion kept his distance. “You got a name, or should I just call you . . . Whitey?”
The vulraak sneered. “I am Argon.”
“Is that your human name or your . . . animal name?”
Argon growled. “You know nothing of who I am, mortal. If you did, your words would bleed deference.”
“Then by all means, enlighten me.”
“I’m general to the wizards of the First Order. I’ve been around since the coming of the Fae. Even they weren’t enough to stand against me. My brethren and I have waited long for this day.”
“And who are these brethren?” Ayrion asked, turning to look at the surrounding woods.
“Those that have yet to awaken.”
More riddles? Ayrion tried to keep him talking, circling slowly to the left. “So, you fought in the Faerie Wars? You’re looking pretty good for your age, apart from the milky skin and serious case of dead eye.”
Plague of Shadows Page 21
