Unbonded (First of the Blade Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  “But not so much that you didn’t get out.”

  Imogen glanced behind her. Lights flickered in some of the houses. She couldn’t make out much of anything within those windows, only a little glimmering light. “I got out,” she said, turning back again and facing the fog. “I wish I knew why Timo ran off.”

  Benji’s eyes flashed brightly for a moment, and the silver deepened within them. “Are you sure about that?”

  “I want to find my brother.”

  “Perhaps it’s too late for that.”

  She looked over to him. “It’s not too late to save him.”

  “But save him from what?”

  “You can’t see?” Imogen leaned on the railing, and she breathed in slowly, wishing she didn’t have to at all. The air stunk, a strange odor of rot mixed with moisture, mingling in an unpleasant way. “I figured you could see everything.”

  “I can see much. But not everything.”

  She turned back once again and gestured to the dense fog. “How are we supposed to find Timo in that?”

  “We will find him. He may want to hide from us, and he may not care for you pursuing him, but we will find him.”

  She snorted. “I don’t think my brother is hiding from me.”

  “Are you certain?” Benji asked, his brow arched.

  Imogen no longer knew. When she had set out, she had gone with Timo, but it had been a challenge for her. He hadn’t necessarily wanted her to come with him. She’d had to force her way, and were she not the older sister, he might have refused to allow her to go with him at all. And then coming across Benji had added another wrinkle to everything, complicating the relationship she had with her brother. It was complex enough, especially ever since he had joined her in Yoran.

  “Why does it have to be so hard?” she whispered.

  “What did you learn on your bond quest?”

  She looked over to him. He wasn’t paying any attention to her, rather he was looking down at the water, tracking one of the narrow vessels slipping through the marsh.

  “If you’re asking about the hyadan, then I learned they could be defeated,” she replied.

  “Anything can be defeated.”

  “Even the magic of a Porapeth?” she asked with a hint of a smile, and he met her gaze.

  “I said anything, didn’t I? That’s what I mean. Anything can be defeated. Even the magic that is a Porapeth.”

  “What would happen?”

  “We aren’t the only ancient magic in the world,” he said, waving his hand. “In fact, everything touches that power in a certain way—it’s just a matter of how they manifest it. Some think their power is greater than others, and some have a better understanding of it. But deep down, if they truly understood, they would see that it was all connected.”

  “It seems to me that sorcery is different than what you use, and that is different than what I’ve seen of the El’aras, and also different than—”

  Benji waved his hand again. “There you go, trying to make comparisons where it’s not necessary. I’m just trying to tell you that magic is magic. Power is power. It is the path that is different. You can find your way on a path, or you can lose your way.”

  “Like the Sul’toral.”

  “Something like that,” Benji said, smiling.

  They fell into a comfortable silence, with an occasional splash disturbing that peace.

  “Are we going to have to take a boat?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “There are dry stretches of land that move through here.”

  “Let me guess. The water will tell you how to find them?”

  “The water. The wind. The earth. If you learn to listen, you don’t even need to ask the questions.”

  She looked over to him and smiled, but she knew he wasn’t joking with her. This was not the kind of thing he would joke about.

  “And finding the Sul’toral?” she asked.

  “Is that what you want?”

  Imogen shook her head and sighed. “I never wanted to find the Sul’toral. I understand the need to stop them, but I never wanted to chase them myself. I don’t even know if I can do anything were I to reach them.”

  “Are you afraid?”

  “I am uncertain,” she said. It didn’t feel like fear, at least not to her. But she did feel like there was something she didn’t fully understand.

  Benji snorted. “You certainly are a unique one, aren’t you?”

  “If you say so.”

  “It’s just that I wouldn’t have expected one of your kind to be so honest with that.”

  “When I faced L’aran, I didn’t take him on. There was another person with us who had to. He was far more powerful than any of us.”

  Benji chuckled. “I remember seeing that.”

  “You remember seeing what happened to him?”

  “Not at the time, and perhaps not even now, but I saw the influence of it.”

  “Because he was the Chain Breaker?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Perhaps, or perhaps it was something else. But you have to stop thinking you are not powerful enough. You are a First.”

  Imogen smiled tightly. “I understand what it means to be a First. I understand that I am fully capable against sorcerers, and I think I could probably manage against one of the Toral, but against a Sul’toral…” She shook her head. “It’s why I was hoping to guide Timo away. He needed to return to our homeland, to rejoin the people.”

  “What do you think happened to him back then?”

  “I don’t know,” Imogen said. “I hoped they would help him find his place again.”

  He laughed. “You hoped they would help him find his way, not his place. If it was only about finding his place, you could have helped with that.”

  Imogen wasn’t sure about that either.

  “What if we can’t save him?” she whispered.

  “I can’t see the answer to that, First.”

  Imogen wished that it were simpler, that there was an easy answer, but this was Benji. Though she didn’t know him well, she understood that there would be no easy answers with him.

  The water splashed again. This time, it was farther away, out in the depths of the fog, and louder than what she’d heard before.

  “Supposedly you can take bigger boats from one of the larger cities along the border of the marsh,” Imogen said.

  “There’s no supposedly about it,” Benji said. “You absolutely can. You just have to find the right captain. The barges that come through here are smaller, mostly because the waterways are narrower. But if you get farther to the west, the waterways are wider, so the barges can be larger and are much more suited to the transport of goods.”

  “Is that something you’ve seen, or something you’ve seen?”

  “A little of both.”

  Imogen released the railing. A gust of wind picked up, carrying some of the putrid odor of the swamp to her.

  “I’m afraid your blade is going to be needed, First.”

  She looked over to him. “I’m ready to help my brother however I need to.”

  Benji’s eyes flared with silver bright enough to challenge the moonlight that streamed down through the cloudy sky. “I’m not talking about then. I mean now.”

  Imogen unsheathed her sword and looked out into the fog, but she didn’t see anything. “What is it?”

  “I can’t say. The one you called Bug spoke of the caralat. Could be it’s that.”

  “What is that exactly?”

  “Oh, nothing but a misguided and misunderstood swamp creature. Now, if it has been turned by one of the Sul’toral, it might be something more dangerous.” His eyes flared again, the silver brightening behind them as he glanced into the fog. “Which, now that I think about it, is likely.”

  “Great,” Imogen muttered. She paced along the porch. “Do you see it?”

  “The fog is a little dense,” Benji said. “You might need to get down there to check it out.”

  “You want me to go
down into the swamp.”

  “I can show you, if you’d like.”

  “I would very much.”

  Benji looked back at her and winked. He grabbed the railing and soared over it, coming to land with a soft squish. The fog began to swallow him almost immediately.

  Imogen wasn’t trained to fight swamp creatures. She was trained to fight sorcerers. But then, she had dealt with more than just swamp creatures in the time she’d been away from her homeland. She had dealt with sorcerers and dark magic users, along with dark creatures. Why shouldn’t she now deal with a swamp monster?

  She cursed to herself.

  “What happened?” a voice behind her said.

  Imogen waved her hand. “Get back into the house, Bug.”

  “Where did the other guy go?”

  “He thinks the caralat is coming.”

  Bug fell silent, and Imogen glanced behind her. His eyes were wide, the color drained from his face.

  “I’ll sound the alarm,” he whispered.

  Imogen wondered what that might be like. She grabbed the railing and jumped, landing where she thought Benji had. The fog immediately enveloped her too, and she tried to turn in place and see anything around her, but there was nothing there.

  “Benji?” She kept her voice a low hiss, and the fog muted it a bit, keeping it from carrying too far into the night.

  Imogen took a few steps forward, her boots squishing in the muck. It might not be the actual swamp water, but it was still murky, and she felt as if the ground was trying to swallow each boot as she made her way forward.

  She remembered the loud splash she had heard. That had to have been something.

  “Benji?” She hissed his name again but didn’t expect him to respond, so when the fog parted in front of her and revealed Benji standing and staring away from them, she startled.

  “It’s coming,” he said.

  “You could have given me a little more warning.”

  “I told you what I was doing.”

  He traced his hands in the air, the way he swirled them when he was trying to talk to the wind. He hadn’t tapped on the ground, though she wondered if the muck would make it harder for him to do so.

  “Bug said he was going to sound the alarm,” she said.

  “That’s good. I wonder what they’ll do.”

  Imogen shrugged. “Can’t say that I know. Can you think of anything that would scare away a caralat?”

  “A regular caralat? Quite a few things,” Benji said, nodding. “One that’s been touched by Sul’toral power?” He shook his head. “That’s a different beast altogether. It’s possible there will be no scaring it.”

  “Great,” she said.

  Benji chuckled. “Are you scared?”

  “Of a swamp monster? Probably not, but should I be?”

  “Anybody but you should be, First.” He winked at her.

  The fog spread outward, as if it were being swept by a broom or some vessel cruising through it. As it parted, Imogen caught sight of a shadowy form lumbering in the swamp.

  But it wasn’t alone.

  One of the slender swamp canoes floated nearby.

  Imogen darted forward. She didn’t even think before she raced ahead. She had no idea what this caralat was going to do, but it was near villagers.

  She cried out, and the horrific creature turned toward her. It had brown skin, or possibly fur, and seemed to be coated in rotting and decaying leaves that draped off its body, though it was otherwise caked with mud. Eyes were filled with pools of darkness. It carried a long, slender stick, and as she neared, she realized that one end of the stick was a sharpened bone. A villager, the one she had seen in the narrow canoe, lay motionless near the swamp creature’s feet.

  The long stick swept toward Imogen. She darted underneath it, bringing her blade out and around, and she cut through the stick. She rolled, and as soon as she did, she wished she hadn’t. Though she immediately bounded back to her feet, mud caked her cloak, weighing her down. She shrugged off the cloak while holding on to her blade.

  The caralat turned toward her. It was nearly twice her height, and it opened a strange-looking mouth and roared. The awful sound boomed in the otherwise muted silence of the swamp, and the creature’s breath stunk.

  It swung the broken fragments of the stick at Imogen. She stepped to the side—careful not to roll—and brought her blade up, then slashed down along the caralat’s arm.

  Her sword did nothing. It barely pierced the muck, and she had to pull it back.

  Imogen spun around, jabbing with the point of the blade, and the creature shrieked again. She had no idea if what she was doing made any difference to the caralat, or if she was only angering it.

  A hint of light from behind her caught her eye, and she turned to see a bright flare coming from within the village. Fire.

  The caralat roared again. The creature didn’t care for fire? Of course it wouldn’t. It lived in the swamp, but more than that, it had somehow been turned into a dark creature that now served some dangerous purpose.

  Imogen could use that, and she decided to change her approach. She darted back, keeping her blade outstretched, thinking about how she could take on this creature. Her sword wasn’t going to give her enough reach, but there was something she could try.

  As the caralat regarded her, looking as if it was trying to decide what it wanted to do, she reached into her pocket. Faster than she would’ve thought possible, the caralat grabbed the canoe and swung it toward her. She dropped low, and it barely missed the top of her head. The creature now had far more reach than she did.

  Imogen found what she was looking for in her pocket—a small piece of stone etched with a symbol for the magic it contained. She hoped it still worked. She had been hesitant to use any of her enchantments on this journey so far, but she still had them on her.

  She held out the enchantment and focused on it. Activating an enchantment was generally easy, and she had to hope that the enchanters who had created this one had poured enough power into it that it would do what she needed.

  The stone began to grow warm as the caralat swung the canoe at her again. She jumped back, and it caught her on the shoulder. Imogen had to squeeze the enchantment tightly to avoid losing it, but she managed to hold on to it. The stone started to glow, and she could see it in the night.

  The caralat roared once more. Was it aware of the enchantment as well? If so, she needed to take advantage of it, but she had to get closer to the creature.

  She needed an opportunity. An opening.

  “Benji?” She didn’t know if the Porapeth was still nearby, but he had pushed her into doing this, so he was going to help. “I need you to distract him.”

  “I don’t fight,” he said.

  Imogen grunted. “We know that’s not true. I need you to distract him. Get him to turn away from me.”

  “Just use what you are using. The bastard doesn’t like it much, anyway.”

  “Benji!”

  The foul wind began to pick up again, and it swirled around Imogen, rustling the grasses, rippling the water. The fog was pushed back.

  The caralat turned away. Imogen raced forward, and she shoved the enchantment into the caralat’s side. It bellowed again and spun toward her.

  Imogen bounced back, urging the enchantment to work and hold. Given how thick the mud of the swamp was and how sticky it seemed to be, she had to hope that it was going to be enough.

  The glow of the stone persisted, and the caralat let out another thunderous roar. Its skin began to flicker as flames started to crackle along the surface of the creature. The enchanted fire would burn, and it didn’t care what it consumed.

  The flames quickly took hold, consuming the caralat all the way up its torso, leaving its legs untouched. The creature made its way toward the water, but it wasn’t fast enough, and its upper body continued to burn. As it reached the water and splashed away from the village, its movements started to slow.

  All the while, the glo
w persisted, a testament to the enchantment’s power. Imogen had used it often to light fires before, but she’d always deactivated it afterward. In this case, she had left it completely unhindered, and it would burn until the power in the enchantment expended itself fully.

  She worried that it still wouldn’t be enough.

  It almost wasn’t.

  The caralat lumbered another few steps. And then it dropped. The water hissed as the enchanted fire burned around it, but then the creature thrashed. Finally, it sunk down beneath the murky surface of the water and disappeared.

  The fog rolled forward and returned.

  “Well, that’s one way to do it,” Benji said.

  “Is it dead?”

  He looked over to her. “You can’t tell?”

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Benji’s eyes flared with brightness for a long moment, then faded. “I don’t see it coming back to the villages here anytime soon.”

  Imogen breathed out a sigh of relief. She leaned down, grabbed her cloak, and crouched next to the fallen villager. He was injured but not dead.

  “Grab him,” she said to the Porapeth.

  “You want me to do what?”

  “You made me fight. You get to carry him.”

  Benji chuckled. “I suppose that’s fair. Now we can go back and celebrate. You can tell them that you chased away the terrifying caralat, and I can tell them that it won’t come back.”

  “What do you mean, celebrate?”

  “Well, I’m sure they will break out some food and drink and—”

  Imogen groaned. “I might pass on that.”

  She turned back toward the murky waters. She didn’t feel much like celebrating. If a creature like that was out in the swamp, how much worse would it be? How could she find Timo through all of that?

  Chapter Eighteen

  They had left the stunned villagers behind hours ago, Bug wishing them well, before she and Benji made their way across the Shadows of the Dead, moving steadily, quietly. Imogen looked all around. The name of the marsh was surprisingly fitting. It was covered in shadows, though they mostly came from the dense fog. Occasionally, the fog would drift away, and Imogen didn’t know if it was the result of a gentle breeze or if it was something Benji did. The air stunk, carrying the stench of filth and what smelled like rot, which she tried to ignore. Some twisted trees managed to rise out of the swamp. Long branches spread on either side, with fingers that seemed to reach outward and bend toward the water. At one point, she tripped over one of them.