Plague of Shadows

by Michael Wisehart

  Ferrin’s rage boiled to the surface as every muscle in his body tightened.

  The creatures were even more terrifying up close. They were three times the size of a normal bird. Instead of feathers, they had a type of thin, flaky skin that stretched across the bones that made up their wings. Their hides looked more like the skin of a black viper than a bird, but the basic shape of their head was much like an oversized raven, apart from the small spiky protrusions that ran down the backs of their necks.

  Besides wanting to make sure he kept these creatures from being able to continue tracking him, Ferrin wasn’t leaving until this poor couple had been avenged.

  Gently, he raised his sword, keeping the second sheathed. There wasn’t much room in the kitchen, certainly not enough to be swinging two swords. He could use the second to hold the winged creatures back as he struck with the first. Tightening his grip, he readied himself. He had to be quick. He couldn’t let them escape and tell the others where he was.

  He lowered his shoulder against the door and threw it open, hollering as loudly as he could. The creatures were taken by surprise. The first lifted itself about knee-high into the air before meeting Ferrin’s sword on the downswing. The bird screeched and hissed as it split in two, its wings still beating hard on the ground after landing.

  The second creature had more time to prepare, but instead of retreating, it came straight at him. “Blazes!” Ferrin tried to get his sword up in time, but the corax was too quick, and the creature hit him in the chest. He lost his breath for a moment, its considerable size nearly knocking him from his feet as it dug its claws into his forearm.

  Ferrin cried out in pain and dropped the sword. He stumbled back into a shelf as he swung his arm to break the creature’s grip. He punched the bird in the chest, and it released its claws and flew backward. Blood was running down his arm as he inspected the damage. He could still move his fingers.

  The corax positioned itself over Ferrin’s discarded sword, almost taunting him.

  Ferrin cradled the injured arm, trying not to think of the pain as he turned to get a better look at the kitchen. A large oven and hearth took up a good portion of the back wall. The right side was lined with counters and tables for chopping and mixing. The left side, where he was, had rows of shelves standing about six feet in height, along with an open window in the corner. The corax seemed to notice it as well and flew into the air, making a clear dive for the opening.

  “No you don’t!” Ferrin leaped in front of the creature and grabbed it by the wing. Spinning it around, he flung the corax back across the room, where it slammed into a row of pots on the far counter and fell to the floor. Ferrin shut the window and bolted it back into place. “Looks like it’s just you and me now, birdy,” he said, starting forward.

  The creature watched him with one eye, its head cocked to the side. There was hunger in its glare as it opened a bloody beak and cawed.

  The shelves on his side of the kitchen were too close together to swing a sword, so he grabbed a skillet from its place on the rack. “Nothing like a hot piece of roasted fowl to start the day, don’t you think?”

  The corax released another ear-piercing cry and attacked. It was fast, faster than he had expected. He managed to get a swing in with the skillet but merely nicked the side of one of its wings as it flew above him.

  Ferrin spun out of the way and used part of the shelf beside him to block his side. The large bird flew back around and came at him again. There just wasn’t room to maneuver. He dove forward and rolled underneath the creature’s talons, landing on top of Tibble in the process. He grabbed Kyleen’s large pot of rhubarb filling and threw it in the air. The doughy substance splattered across the corax, completely covering its head and blinding it.

  It beat its wings in fury, cawing ferociously as it collided with the cabinets and stove, trying to fly free. Ferrin grabbed his sword and hopped back to his feet, swinging at the creature as it flew by. The blade severed one of its wings.

  The corax fell. It tried to use its remaining wing to get off the ground, but Ferrin didn’t give it the chance. He stepped on its back, pinning it in place. “This is for Tibble and Kyleen.” The corax released one final caw, and Ferrin chopped off its head.

  He left it there to jerk and flop as he respectfully closed Tibble’s eyes and lay Kyleen down beside him. Ferrin regretted not having enough time to give the two a proper burial, but he needed to get away before the others came back. He wrapped his arm with one of Kyleen’s towels and started for the door.

  He stopped when he heard voices on the other side.

  “They’ve got to be here. Find them!”

  Them? Did that mean Cheeks had lied when he said he had captured his friends? Not that it mattered. He was trapped inside the kitchen with the Black Watch between him and the exit.

  He ran to the back of the kitchen and unbarred the window. It made a slight squeak, but he didn’t have much of a choice. He opened it and looked out. Apparently, the Smelly Trout fronted a cliff face that dropped all the way to the waters of Virn Run below. A rickety-looking staircase led from a door at the back of the inn down to the docks, probably for bringing up supplies from the boats. Unfortunately, there was at least ten feet of rock between him and the stairs, and it was a long drop down.

  He pulled a string from a sack of flour and tied it around the hilt of each sword, then slung them over his shoulder. Ducking, he shimmied out the window, wincing when his injured arm hit the side. He had to hurry. They could be coming through the kitchen door at any moment. He lowered himself from the sill, sliding the window shut as he did. He hoped none of them bothered looking through it.

  He worked his way carefully along the rocky ledge, hand over hand, worrying with every new grip that his injured arm would give out. He was nearing the point of exhaustion, and the loss of blood wasn’t helping. With one last heave, he swung from the rocks onto the rickety staircase at the side. He grunted when he hit, one of the swords digging into his side.

  He scrambled to his feet, using the railing to pull himself up. The wooden stairs wound down to the awaiting docks. As far as he could tell, he hadn’t been spotted.

  Reaching the docks below, he looked up at the inn, but his vision was blocked by part of the cliff face and the overhanging fog. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching before helping himself to the first available skiff that had an oar. The way the Tower guards were still searching, he didn’t believe they had found the others yet, but it still left him with the problem of not knowing where they were. He tried putting himself in Myron’s shoes.

  The captain wouldn’t be able to just wander the streets with Rae and Suri in tow. They would be too easy to spot. He didn’t know how well Myron knew the city’s inhabitants. He might have been able to find someone willing to hide them, but that seemed unlikely, since he had never mentioned it before. The white riders would be watching all the roads in and out of Iraseth, which only left one other option.

  Ferrin turned his boat and headed upriver. He needed to make his way to the mountain passes.

  Chapter 73 | Breen

  “I FOUND HIM!” Breen shouted as he ran out of the woods. He crossed over the little creek behind their house and headed straight for the barn, where his father was chatting with two men on horseback.

  The council had been searching for Ty ever since his attack in the cave under Gilly’s house, but with little luck.

  Breen hadn’t been able to sleep. He kept waking with nightmares of his brother being sucked into the underground river. Even with the wizard’s assurances that Ty hadn’t drowned, it still weighed heavy on him.

  He slowed when he realized the two men talking with his father weren’t men after all.

  “We have company,” his father said, about the time Lyessa turned and looked his way. Her long blonde hair was tucked up under the brim of her hat.

  Breen gritted his teeth. She couldn’t have picked a worse time to show up for a visit. He’d just found Ty, and t
hey needed to go after him.

  “Who have you found?” she asked. “Ty? I’ve been looking everywhere for him.”

  Breen didn’t respond. They hadn’t told her yet about Ty’s situation. The uneasy look on his father’s face said he was just as conflicted. Lyessa had proven herself an ally, and if there was to be any future relationship between her and his brother, they were going to need to be more inclusive. But, unfortunately, with her father being the overlord of Sidara, it made the choice precarious, since the council didn’t want the overlord privy to every detail of their operations.

  Lyessa’s skill with a sword had proven invaluable during their battle with the Northmen, and Breen thought she deserved to be more involved. She certainly wasn’t the dainty young woman Ty had always claimed her to be. She was quite the force of nature and no doubt exactly what Ty needed to keep him in line.

  Breen opened his mouth to answer when Lyessa’s riding companion leaned forward far enough for him to see her face. Fraya?

  She seemed different. More confident. She also appeared to be wearing men’s apparel, including a pair of trousers and an overcoat. If it hadn’t been for the face and hair, he could have easily mistaken her for a boy, albeit a very pretty one. He had never seen her in pants before. Lyessa was clearly rubbing off on her, and he couldn’t help but like it.

  He walked over to help the two women from their mounts. The sooner they chatted, the sooner they would leave. He offered Fraya his hand, but she ignored it and swung her leg around and hopped off. Breen lowered his hand, disappointed, then turned to help Lyessa.

  “Here’s another lesson for you, Fraya,” Lyessa said. “When a man like Breen offers to help you from your horse, you let him.” She held out her arms and let Breen lift her by the waist and help her down. “See how I did that?” She cast a glance over her shoulder to make sure Fraya was paying attention. “Not only does it make him feel good about himself, but in turn you get the thrill of his hands around your waist.”

  Too embarrassed to even mention how much he liked Fraya’s outfit, Breen blushed and grabbed the horses’ reins from his father. “I’ll just stable them, shall I?” Without waiting for an answer, he headed into the barn. He couldn’t help but notice the smirk on his father’s face as he passed. “Having a good laugh, are we?”

  “I think those two could charm a snake out of its hole,” his father said, shifting his weight against the barn door. His father rested one foot on a pitchfork whose prongs were buried quarter-deep in the dirt. “Enjoy it while you can, son. Don’t take a moment of it for granted.” His father might have been smiling, but Breen could hear the heartache in his voice.

  Breen maneuvered the horses into their stalls, then poured some feed from the old hogshead barrel into their troughs.

  After making sure they had plenty of water, he joined the others outside, pulling his coat tight as his breath steamed in front of his face. The days were getting colder. It wouldn’t be long before the first of the snows reached them, making travel through the forest more difficult.

  “If there’s anything that you or your family need, Father and I would be only too happy to help.”

  “Thank you, Lady Lyessa,” Breen’s father said. “That’s very kind of you, but I believe we are managing for now. Breen’s helping me with the work, and Adarra has taken on her mother’s responsibilities as best she can.”

  “We left Adarra in town,” Fraya said, rubbing her hands together. “She said she wanted to spend more time with the Tallosian. She’s been working hard to learn his language. I think she’s attempting to teach him ours as well.”

  Breen’s father smiled. “That’s my Adarra, ever the studious one. She’d probably go without eating if we didn’t drag her away from those books of hers.”

  Breen noticed that Lyessa’s gaze kept wandering about the yard when she thought no one was looking. He knew who she was searching for. Unfortunately, it wasn’t going to do her much good.

  Breen was getting more restless by the minute. He needed to tell his father about Ty, but he didn’t want to say anything with Lyessa there.

  “Is Ty here?” she finally asked. “We actually came to see him.”

  Fraya looked at Breen and raised an eyebrow. Evidently, she’d been careful not to tell Lyessa either.

  “We haven’t seen much of him lately,” his father said. “I figure he’s grieving in his own way.”

  Lyessa nodded. “I guess I can understand. I remember how it felt when I lost my mother. I didn’t leave my room for days.”

  Breen shifted from one foot to the next. He didn’t care about Lyessa’s personal experiences with loss. They needed to go after Ty, but he couldn’t think of a polite way of asking her to leave while at the same time keeping Fraya around in case they needed her gift of healing. Hang it! He didn’t have a choice. “The truth is,” he said, “Ty isn’t exactly Ty anymore.”

  “Breen.” His father shook his head.

  “She’s going to find out eventually if we can’t stop this. And we can’t keep sitting here gossiping when I know where he is.”

  His father took a step forward. “You know where he is?”

  “Yes. If we don’t hurry, he’ll be gone before we get there.”

  “Gone from where?” Lyessa asked, looking at the two of them. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”

  Breen took a deep breath. “We don’t exactly know all the details ourselves, but Ty seems to have been possessed by a book.”

  She looked at him like he had three heads. “What?”

  He explained the situation as best he could, leaving out the part with the underground cavern, and simply told her that Ty had attacked them while they were cleaning out the witch’s shop.

  “And you know where he is?” she asked.

  He nodded. “At least as of a half hour ago. It’s a spot in the woods I followed him to a few years back. He tends to go there when he wants to be alone.”

  “Then why are we just standing here?” she asked.

  His father laid the pitchfork up against the barn wall and started for the house. “Let’s get the gear.”

  Breen followed just behind.

  “We’re coming as well,” Lyessa said, not giving anyone a chance to argue. “I didn’t ride all the way out here for nothing.”

  “Besides,” Fraya added, “we have our swords.”

  Breen stopped and turned around. “Since when did you start carrying a sword?” He hadn’t even noticed the weapon until now.

  “Since, I . . .” She glanced at Lyessa sheepishly. “Since I started learning how to fight. Lyessa has been teaching us.”

  Breen noticed the slight discoloration around Fraya’s cheek. He had seen it earlier but had assumed it was some of Lyessa’s face powder. “What’s this?” he asked, walking over and gently cupping the side of her face to get a better look.

  “It’s nothing. I told you, Lyessa’s training us how to fight.”

  “What do you mean . . . us?”

  “She’s training me and . . . and Adarra.”

  “What? You’ve got my sister mixed up in this as well? It’s bad enough that you would subject yourself to that,” he said, glancing once again at her powder-covered bruises, “but Adarra’s not like you. She’ll get hurt.”

  Fraya crossed her arms. “Are you saying that because we are women, we can’t protect ourselves?”

  “No. I . . . I just think that’s why I’m here. To protect you.”

  Fraya laid her hand on his arm. “Breen, if there’s anything I’ve learned from our fight with the bulradoer and the Black Watch, it’s that I can’t rely on others to be there to save me.”

  Breen knew how much Saleena’s death weighed on Fraya. Having someone sacrifice their life for you put things into perspective.

  “You were miles away, fighting your own battle,” she continued, “and I almost lost my life because I had no idea how to even hold a sword. The closest I’ve ever come to using a weapon is swinging an
axe to chop firewood, and the wood wasn’t trying to kill me when I did.”

  Her tone softened. “The point is, as nice as it is knowing that I have someone like you to protect me, you won’t always be there, and when that happens, I need to know how to protect myself.”

  Breen exhaled slowly. He hated being wrong. Worse, he hated other people pointing it out in such an obvious way. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He scooted a little closer to keep from being overheard by Lyessa. “I just don’t want you to get to the point that you feel like you don’t need me anymore.”

  Fraya smiled and wrapped her arms around him. “Are you kidding? You’re my giant protector. I’ll always need you. Besides,” she said, pulling away and tapping the hilt of her sword, “I’m not very good yet.”

  “That will change,” Lyessa said with a grin, apparently eavesdropping after all. “Now go get your gear so we can find Ty.”

  It didn’t take Breen or his father long to pack and the group to be on their way. With his new bow and quiver over his shoulder, sword at his waist, and brace of knives under his coat, Breen felt like they were about to go to war. Then again, with the kind of power his brother possessed, it could be a war.

  Breen guided them down a deer trail that led into the denser part of the forest. The farther in they went, the antsier he became. There was a burnt smell in the air. One that hadn’t been present the first time he’d been through there. He kept his eyes peeled for signs of movement. Where there were normally traces of life—the song of the birds, the playful skittering of the tree-rats, cottontails hopping from one hole to the next—there was nothing.

  The forest was eerily silent.

  The hairs on the back of his neck pricked. It was the same feeling he’d gotten when tracking down that arachnobe with Ty. He remembered the fear all too well.

  After a good half hour of trekking northeast through dense forest in the general direction of Reed Marsh, Breen slowed. “It should be over the next rise,” he whispered to the others.

  Cautiously, they worked their way up the hill, skirting trees and brush as they climbed. The smell of burnt wood was now suffocating, and small flakes of ash rained down on them, covering their hair and clothing. They crested the rise and stopped, all four staring in bewilderment at the silent valley below.