Unbonded (First of the Blade Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “What stories have you heard?” Imogen asked.

  She glanced over to her brother, half expecting that he might say something, but he remained quiet. Almost painfully quiet. His silence worried her because it meant that he was either sulking or plotting. She didn’t know which, but both concerned her.

  “Oh, can’t put much stock in travelers’ stories these days,” the barkeep said. “You get people coming through here, talking about monsters in the north. Creatures in the forest that shouldn’t be there. Strange sounds that keep you from sleeping.” The man shrugged. “If you ask me, it’s all nonsense.”

  “Where in the north?” Timo asked.

  The man frowned. “You haven’t told me what you want to drink yet.”

  Timo looked as if he wanted to say something but closed his mouth.

  “He will take a mug of ale,” Imogen said.

  The barkeep made his way along the counter and poured a mug, then set it in front of Timo. “Not much to the north. Not here. We aren’t all that far from the marsh, though I’m sure you know that. Forest doesn’t stretch that much farther before it ends. Marshlands are unpleasant for anyone to travel. We do get some trade out of there, though not like we once did.” His voice trailed off.

  “We heard the same thing from the west,” Imogen said.

  “Well, I’m sure it’s similar to what we’ve been dealing with. Same sort of issues that we have. Can’t get traders to come through here.”

  “And you don’t think there’s anything to it,” Timo said.

  “Can’t say one way or the other,” the barkeep said. “Stories, mostly.” He nodded, as if that answered everything, and grabbed his towel before making his way along the bar, leaving Imogen and Timo alone.

  He looked over to her. “See?”

  “What am I supposed to see?” she said.

  “North.”

  “But we don’t even know what’s there. Stories out of the marsh.”

  “We are chasing stories of the Sul’toral,” he said. “We’ve dealt with adlet. We’ve dealt with magic. And now we have”—he lowered his voice, glancing to the door before turning his attention back to Imogen—“a damn Porapeth with us. You can’t tell me that something isn’t going on here.”

  “I haven’t told you that,” she said. “In fact, I am quite certain there is something going on.”

  “You still think we should head east?”

  She held his gaze for a long moment. “I do.”

  He frowned at her. “You never intended to go after this Sul’toral, did you?”

  “Timo—”

  “Did you just come to try to drag me back? There are other Sul’toral out there.”

  She had used that as a reason to come with him, but she’d always intended to bring him to the Leier lands. “But they are not our responsibility.”

  “We are trained to deal with that kind of magic.”

  There was a pleading note in his eyes, and he looked like he was trying to get her to understand in a way she just couldn’t.

  “You think I need to go back,” he said quietly.

  “I think it would be for the best.”

  “Maybe you should just go on your own. I don’t need to.”

  She had wanted to get Timo out of Yoran, and she had agreed to accompany him, at least this far. But the farther they had traveled, and especially following the adlet attack, the more she had felt certain that he needed something she couldn’t offer him. Maybe it was a measure of peace that wouldn’t be found out on the road. Or maybe it was something else. She just didn’t know.

  “Are you afraid they won’t welcome you back?” she asked.

  “Are you?”

  “Yes.”

  He regarded her for a long moment before finally shaking his head. “This is all about you, isn’t it? It’s always been about you. You had to push yourself so that you could be the best. The youngest to reach First of the Blade and to go to the sacred temples. One of the quickest to leave the sacred temples and head off on their bond quest.” He got to his feet, grabbed his mug of ale, and turned to her. “You don’t want me to demonstrate just what I can do.”

  “It has nothing to do with that.”

  “It has everything to do with it. You can head back to your precious little city. Maybe even take the Porapeth with you.”

  Imogen glanced over at the barkeep, but she couldn’t tell if he was listening.

  “I’m going after answers.” Timo stormed out, and Imogen started after him.

  She reached the door as somebody else came stumbling in.

  “You,” the newcomer said.

  Imogen blinked and looked over at the person who’d come in, frowning. “Bug?”

  “I didn’t think I would see you again.”

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you it was hard.”

  She looked past him toward the door. “I need to go after someone,” she said. “But I will come back to talk with you.” She handed him her cider. “Here. Enjoy.”

  He grinned. “You’re always treating me so well.”

  She rushed out the door into the village. The buildings were all made of dense wood, and they were positioned close together. Imogen raced down the narrow street, searching for Timo. She made a circuit of the village, which didn’t take long because there weren’t many buildings here. By the time she circled back to the tavern, she couldn’t help but worry that her brother had already disappeared.

  But to where?

  “He’s gone,” a voice said from near her.

  She looked up. Benji crouched down and traced his hand over a clump of grass.

  “Where did he go?” she asked.

  “Where do you think?”

  Imogen had a strong idea about where Timo would’ve gone, but she didn’t know why he felt so compelled to do so. “North.”

  “That’s my fear too.”

  “But why? What’s there, really?”

  “Other than the stories I’m sure you’ve heard?”

  She nodded. “Other than them.”

  “Why, the Shadows of the Dead.”

  Imogen stood in front of the small room, noting the single bed and washbasin. Benji came up behind her and immediately jumped on the bed, looking over at her with a hint of a grin on his face. “You don’t think to claim this, do you?”

  Imogen threw her pack down onto the floor and took a seat against the wall. “I thought I might.”

  Benji chuckled. “You can stand guard. Or sit. I don’t care which.”

  “If Timo has gone off—”

  “If he has, he won’t be able to go very far, nor will he be able to go very fast. Besides, we know where he’s going.”

  The problem wasn’t about knowing where Timo was going. She had always known what he was after. She just wished she could help him, but unfortunately, there no longer seemed to be any way to help her brother. He was lost to her.

  She sat on the floor and rested against the wall, gradually drifting off. When she came awake, a hint of faint daylight streamed in through the window.

  Benji was gone.

  She hurriedly grabbed her pack, headed down through the tavern—making sure to leave an extra copper for the owner—and hurried outside to the road. Timo had gone off on his own. Had Benji done the same?

  She found the Porapeth, but there was another person standing next to him.

  “Bug?” she said.

  “I thought I would find you again in the tavern, but this one said you were worried about your companion.”

  “He’s my brother,” Imogen replied.

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” Bug said. “Well, he says he’s taking you north. Seeing as how I know the way, I thought maybe I could come with you. At least as far as the southern edge of the marsh. I don’t want to go any farther than that. To be honest, I don’t really want to go back north, but not many people want someone from the marsh around these days. Not with what we’ve been facing. Been trying to get help, but no o
ne wants to do it. It’s just stories, they say.”

  That was what he had said before. Was this his way of telling her otherwise?

  Imogen and Benji shared a look, and she nodded. “I’m sure that’s all it is.”

  Bug started off into the forest, but Benji whistled to him softly.

  “This way,” Benji said, pointing.

  Bug scoffed. “I think I know the way north.”

  “I’m quite sure you do, but I think we need to go this way.”

  They started off, with Benji leading away. Bug followed, frowning every so often, then seeming reassured by the direction they took. After a while, Bug stopped making faces whenever Benji would veer them around a massive tree, or across a narrow stream, or the one time it seemed as if they had backtracked around a deep ravine, only to come out on the opposite side of it.

  Bug whistled as they walked, but he remained mostly quiet otherwise. Imogen found herself watching him every so often. Benji didn’t seem bothered by him. Far from it, in fact. It seemed almost as if he had wanted Bug to come along with them.

  When she said something to Benji, his eyes flashed, but then they faded again, and he stayed silent. Imogen guessed that meant he had seen something within Bug.

  “So, what happened to the other man who was with you before?” Bug asked.

  Imogen glanced at Benji, who had stiffened slightly. “My brother,” she said. “He’s gone ahead of us. That’s where we’re going now, to catch up to him.”

  “To the marsh? Not much there until you get to the Reaches. That is, unless you want to deal with the caralat. We’ve had enough trouble with them lately.”

  Imogen regarded Benji, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention.

  “What is a caralat?” she asked.

  “Oh, just something that has taken a liking to my people…” Bug trailed off, as if he didn’t want to say anything more. “That brother of yours sure has a temper, doesn’t he?”

  She frowned. “He does?”

  “I heard stories about him after you left. He sure put a hurting on ol’ Rafe. Never figured out why, and neither did he.”

  Imogen’s brow furrowed. She had questions for Benji, and she hurried up to him. “Have you seen anything about Timo?”

  Benji glanced back to her, his eyes a flat silver. “I have seen many things about him. Not all are easy to know.”

  “Can you tell me?”

  “Soon.”

  “Why soon?” she asked.

  “Because it’s better than later.”

  Imogen suppressed her frustration. “You need to tell me more about the Shadows of the Dead, then,” she said, keeping her voice low.

  “What’s there to say? It’s the marsh.”

  “So, if I asked him about it,” she said, glancing back at Bug, “what would he say?”

  Benji turned and frowned. “He’d probably tell you stories he’s heard.”

  “And would those stories be accurate or…”

  He shrugged. “How accurate do you think they would be?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking you.”

  “Why don’t you find out?”

  Imogen regarded Benji for a few moments before shaking her head. He knew something, and she wasn’t exactly sure what it was, only that he wasn’t going to tell her outright.

  She waited until Bug caught up to her. “I’ve never been to the marsh before,” she told him.

  Bug looked up, his pale eyes twinkling. “No? I know it has a bit of a reputation, especially with what they like to call it, but I have always found it to be lovely even though it’s known as the Shadows of the Dead.”

  Imogen shot a glare at Benji, shaking her head, then turned back to Bug. “Why is it called that?”

  “Because nothing lives beyond it. At least, that is what they want you to believe. We’ve seen things, those of us who travel through the marsh. Not many do, though. Dangerous, it is.”

  “What’s beyond the marsh, then?”

  “Well, if you travel far enough, you can eventually get past the marshland, which is how we get some of the good trade. But you probably don’t want to tell that to our barkeep friend back in the last village.”

  “And the Shadows of the Dead?”

  “It’s mostly just a nickname.”

  “Mostly?” Imogen asked.

  “I can’t say that people haven’t died in the marsh before, but…” He shrugged. “You’ll see. It’s a place unlike any other.”

  “I am eager to see it.”

  “Is it because your brother went that way?”

  “Yes.”

  “I wonder why. Not many go that way these days. Especially not with the stories that come out of there.”

  “I think my brother went that way precisely because of the stories,” she said.

  He cupped his hand over his mouth for a second. “Oh. Someone who wants to find himself.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “People come through from time to time—explorers, such as they are—and they always claim they’re heading out into the Shadows of that Dead in search of fortune. They believe there’s some hidden treasure out there.” He shook his head. “There’s nothing out in the marsh other than the swamp and water and, well, other things that are best not really spoken about.”

  She waited for him to expound on that, but he didn’t. Instead, he fell into a silence, traipsing alongside her and Benji as they continued their steady march north. Benji veered from time to time, in ways Bug looked to disagree with. But ultimately, as they kept turning, Bug seemed content, as if the shifting path was exactly the way he thought they needed to take.

  Evening began to fall. She wondered if they were going to have to camp in the forest, when Bug hurried forward ahead of them.

  “What do you think has him excited?” she asked Benji.

  “Probably because we are almost to one of the northern villages.”

  “Have you seen any sign of my brother?”

  “No.”

  “What about the Sul’toral?”

  Benji was quiet, and after a moment, he frowned. “I’m not sure you truly want to head this way.”

  “I need to find Timo,” she insisted.

  “Why?”

  “Because…”

  Why did she really want to head this way? Was it all about her brother?

  That was what Imogen had been telling herself, and it was what she believed, but maybe that wasn’t all there was to it. Perhaps it had more to do with the feelings of guilt she had about abandoning Timo when he was younger. He wasn’t wrong when he had accused her of that. She had been so focused on advancement, on proving her skill and demonstrating all she could do and be, that she hadn’t stayed when he might have needed her.

  The village had provided for him, but she had gone off to the sacred temple without any real concern for him.

  “…I wasn’t there when he needed me,” she finished.

  “And who was there for you when you needed them?”

  She pursed her lips. “What are you trying to get out of me?”

  “Nothing. I’m just asking the questions, First. You obviously feel as if you have made a mistake.”

  She snorted. “I’ve made many mistakes.”

  The forest ended gradually, and she wasn’t sure what they might find. Bug waited for them near a massive tree, standing with his hand on the trunk. He reminded her of Benji as he stared out toward the north.

  It was not what she expected.

  “That’s your village?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “This isn’t mine. I’m a few days to the west, but I have family here. I can put you up for the night if you’d like.”

  It was little more than a dozen houses set on stilts above the marshy water. The houses were ragged and looked as if they might topple with a stiff breeze, though the air was so still and humid that she didn’t expect any breeze to come through. A heavy fog hung over everything, rising from the surface of t
he marsh, nearly to the bottom of the houses. Imogen could imagine creatures moving through that fog.

  “We could use a night of rest,” Benji said, and Imogen noted the flash in his eyes. What was he seeing now?

  “But Timo—”

  “Your brother will reach where he will reach. And we need to stay here.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I can see it.”

  Bug clapped his hands together. “I can offer you accommodations, but it’s not going to be anything nearly as fancy as we found back in the village. I hope you don’t mind. But they will treat you well.”

  Imogen glowered at Benji for making them stay. The accommodations back in the village had not been luxurious to her at all, so she could only imagine what they’d be like here.

  “We will take whatever you have,” Benji said. “I’m sure it will be delightful.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The sounds of the swamp were muted. The sensation felt strange to Imogen, but she could practically feel something out in the swamp in front of them.

  She looked out as she stood on the porch of the house, resting her hand on the railing. The other houses in the village stretched off to either side of her. They were situated high on the stilts, and every so often, she caught a sound of something sliding into the water. The first time she had, she felt unsettled until she realized that the noise came from a narrow boat that the people of the village used to navigate through the marsh.

  Benji sidled up alongside her, chewing on a strange-looking leaf.

  Imogen shook her head. “Are you sure you want to eat their food?”

  “It’s not their food now, is it? Besides, it would be rude if you declined what they offered.”

  “I have no idea what rawling legs are, and the bread they made…” She shivered. She had stuck to the jerky and dried bread she had brought with her, though she didn’t have that much in the way of supplies. Perhaps she should have taken the kindness of the villagers and enjoyed the food.

  “Can’t say that I know either. The people here are unique. Isolated? I don’t know what you call them.”

  “Isolated sounds right,” Imogen said. “We were isolated in my homeland too.”