“I scarcely see how we could afford not to take his offer,” Shanks said. “As of now, we can only guess at the stronghold’s whereabouts. A guide could save us weeks of aimless wandering.”
Ilagon nodded. “Though I am wary of inviting strangers along with us, the advantage they could offer seems clear. I have looked hard into Avin’s eyes, and see only good intentions. I would trust him to choose honorable men to travel with us.”
E’enna and Kazen both nodded their silent approval, and then skulked away to opposite corners of the room. Ilagon was quick to follow after Kazen.
“What has gotten into you?” Ilagon demanded, his voice kept to a harsh whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“We do not have time for your jealous tirades!”
Kazen sputtered, insulted at the very idea. “I am not jealous!”
“Then explain yourself!”
“I was just trying . . . She was . . . I did not . . .” Kazen stumbled helplessly.
Ilagon finally shook his head and smiled sympathetically. “A word of advice from someone older and perhaps a little wiser than yourself: Do not anger a woman who can knock the head off your shoulders with a blunt stick.”
Kazen groaned quietly as Ilagon left him alone in his corner. Jealous? he wondered. Ridiculous! After all, there was nothing really to be jealous about. So what if Avin was tall and dashing and knew how to speak softly to women? E’enna would never leave their group to be with him. She might wish it, though. Sighing bitterly, Kazen realized it was true. He was jealous. And what an awful feeling it was. So much anger inside, and no one to direct it at. Avin was a decent man, whom Kazen genuinely liked, and he could not be faulted for seeing E’enna’s true beauty. And certainly E’enna could hold no blame. No, it was only Kazen’s own pride that caused him pain.
He cursed himself. This was certainly no time for him to be feeling sorry for himself. He needed to be absolutely focused on the quest and the difficult days ahead, anything less would make him a danger to himself and his friends. And yet, he could not help but to steal a fleeting glance at E’enna, who sat silently brooding across the room.
Kazen had always known she was beautiful, but never before had his heart leapt at the sight of her. Her curled vermilion tresses, which fell over her slender shoulders, seemed to shimmer and flow like a river of fire beneath the pale, flickering lamp. Her eyes, like emerald pools, were distant and sad. Rigid with frustration, her face was blushed by the slightest hue of pink, borrowed from her tightly pursed lips. Though every part of her seemed stiff with anger, she was touched by a softness that could not be undone by wrath or even the trials of war.
Feeling a fool, Kazen knew he should apologize. However, before her now, he felt suddenly clumsy and absurd. The thought of speaking to her made his stomach flutter uncontrollably. So, instead, he sat alone while the others gathered themselves under blankets and settled in for their first peaceful night’s sleep in many weeks.
Chapter 20
Exhausted and numb, Kazen watched the swaying shadows upon the wall through sleepy eyes. He longed for sleep to take him, but his head spun with a thousand different thoughts. Hours passed as he stared blankly at the ceiling, counting the number of roots and twigs that poked through the densely packed dirt. Finally, he sat up with a sigh of frustration. He paced the small room, staring enviously at his sleeping friends who dozed without a care.
His attention was soon drawn to a faint tinkling sound, which floated down the narrow corridor. Soft, like the jingling of a summer wind chime, it was a sweet sound, almost musical. Kazen peeked his head out into the corridor, but could see nothing except for the orange glow of a fire coming from a room at the other end of the hall. Unable to suppress his curiosity, he tiptoed down the dark passageway, despite Kane’s warning echoing in his head.
Sliding himself against the chiseled wall, Kazen stopped before the entrance to the fire-lit room. He caught his breath when he heard a deep voice murmuring just inside the chamber. Fearing he would be discovered already, Kazen slowly backed away from the entranceway. Quickly, though, he realized the man’s voice inside the room was not directed at anyone in particular. The low utterings seemed more and more like a chant, a humming, drumming, melodic prayer of sorts. Rising above the deep, somber melody of the voice was the light jingle of chimes that had first captured Kazen’s curiosity.
Holding his breath, he peeked into the room. Though larger than their sleeping quarters, it was one of the smaller rooms they had passed through. All of the torches along the walls had been snuffed, and the only light came from a small fire set in a collapsed iron brazier upon the floor. Like many of the other rooms, the walls were bedecked with weapons and armor of various types, though here they seemed to be hung with greater care. The room was clear of any boxes or clutter, only a pile of sticks for burning lay neatly stacked against the far wall.
On the wall above the fire hung a long slender sword, more beautiful than all the rest. Its hilt was braided with silver and brass, and the extravagant blade was engraved with ancient runes. Draped from hilt to tip was a silver chain, and from the chain hung hundreds of small golden crests. Nearly each emblem was unique, some as simple as a golden circle, while others were complex designs of shields and swords, or intricate renderings of fierce beasts or birds in flight.
One man stood alone in the room gazing up at the unusual piece. Though his back was to Kazen, there was no mistaking who it was. The towering height and massive broad shoulders were traits belonging to no one other than Kane. His shoulders rose and fell as he hummed a sad melody while tapping the string of golden ornaments, which jangled cheerfully in contrast to his solemn tune.
“You do not listen well, I see,” Kane’s powerful voice suddenly boomed, nearly startling Kazen off his feet. “You are fortunate it is I you have stumbled upon, and not one of our more zealous men.” He did not bother to turn to face Kazen.
“I . . . I’m sorry,” Kazen stammered, still a little shocked at being discovered. “I heard a noise. I did not mean any disrespect.”
“Of course not,” Kane answered with his usual sarcasm. “Do you know what these are?” he asked, motioning to the string of golden emblems.
“No,” Kazen replied, taking a tentative step into the room. “Well, they look like crests of some sort, family insignias, perhaps.”
“That, they are, but they are much more than that. Each one tells a story. Each one has its own history and lore. The men of Halifex wear them with pride, and pass them on to their sons when they marry. But these . . .” He ran his thick finger over the dangling crests. “These were all taken off the bodies of the dead. They are the end of an age. A few may find their way west to young sons who fled with the women over the mountains, should any here survive to take them. But most mark the death of their lineage.”
“I’m sorry,” Kazen said with all sincerity.
Kane suddenly reeled on his heels. “You know nothing of sorrow!” he barked. “Do not feign sympathy for my people when you cannot even begin to imagine our loss! This war, which you claim has been cloaked to the eyes of the world, has taken more than our blood. It has erased our past and doomed our future. We are but shadows ourselves, damned to walk these wasted lands until merciful death takes us. So do not make apologies for what you cannot understand.”
Kazen was struck silent by Kane’s sudden outburst. He looked on as the brawny man snatched up an armful of branches from the pile and squatted sullenly in front of the brazier.
Snapping the twigs into pieces and tossing them into the fire, Kane’s shoulders slumped. “I am tired,” he sighed. “I’m tired all the time, anymore. I suppose I look old to you.” He flashed a quick glance at Kazen, who didn’t respond. “Well, I feel old. I think I’ve aged a hundred years these last few months. Many of the men here are just young boys, like yourself, and they have seen more misery than any man should ever have to see. But now they speak of hope. For in a camp of spies, it is difficult to keep s
ecrets, and already the rumors of wizards arriving in our midst have spread through these caverns like wildfire. To these men, a wizard is as good as a champion. They will think you are here to lead them to victory.” Kane turned and glared distastefully at Kazen. “Is that why you’re here, boy, to lead us to victory?” he sneered with disdain. “Are you a champion of men? Are you a slayer of dragons and destroyer of dark wizards?”
Kazen stared back coolly, not allowing himself to be goaded into a confrontation. “I have happened upon only two dragons in my life, one of whom I call friend, and the other I would not care to run across again, neither of them did I slay. As for dark wizards . . . I suppose that has yet to be seen.”
Kane smiled for the first time. “You carry yourself well, for a boy, I shall give you that. Perhaps, in another time, you and I might have been friends.”
“I don’t see why we cannot be friends now.”
“Because you are dangerous. My cousin thinks you will bring hope to the men and lift their spirits. I say that same hope will crush them before the end. Even now, they whisper like children in the dark, exchanging fabricated tales of an imaginary hero bearing your name. Until this day, they have had only their wits and their fear to keep them alive and on guard. Now, I fear they will lean too much on a hero that does not exist. They will think they cannot lose with a wizard on their side, and that may well cost them their lives. They will think you are here to save them, to save the world. What will they do when you fail? And you will fail, you know it as well as I, it is in your eyes.”
Incensed, Kazen snapped out “You’re wrong,” straining to keep his composure. “It’s not defeat that you see in my eyes, but pity. Pity for you, Kane. For though you walk, and breathe, and speak like a living man, you are dead in every other sense of the word. The shadow has filled your heart with such darkness that you can feel nothing but hate. It is not hope that will destroy these men, but despair, the same despair that has already taken hold of you. If you truly love your men, you will not crush what little light that burns in their hearts.”
Springing to his feet, Kane spun in a fury. “If you were not under the protection of my cousin, I would kill you where you stand!” He stood towering over Kazen, his eyes blazing. “Do not dare to speak to me of love for my people! I could tell you of sacrifice that would make your heart bleed!” His fists clenched and his huge frame trembling, he forcibly turned his gaze back to the dwindling fire. “I grow weary of your drivel. Go back to your room, Lord Kazen. You will find no comfort in my company.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture.
Shaking beneath his skin, Kazen turned without a word and hurried down the hall and back to his quarters. Leaning against the wall, he felt his heart pound against his chest. He knew that Kane was a dangerous man, and he also knew that he had nearly pushed him too far. That exchange could have easily ended in bloodshed, and though Kazen was sure with a sword, he figured Kane could have easily crushed him with his sheer strength.
Relieved that the others still slept, Kazen crawled under his blanket and pulled the cover up to his chin. As he turned on his side, his hand brushed across the scar beneath his left eye. Tracing the raised scar tissue with his finger, he was reminded of the tragic plight of the Hudak. Kane was not so very different from them, he thought. Just like the Hudak were once a good people, Kane, perhaps, was not always as he was now. The shadow affects the minds and hearts of men. So long beneath the cloud of darkness, it was a wonder that they had not all been driven mad.
And madness is just what Kazen saw in Kane’s eyes, madness and fear. Not that any of his men would ever be aware of his fear, for he kept it concealed deep within his heart, so shriveled by the black shadow. But it was there, nonetheless, eating away at him every moment of the day and night. Such fear could drive a man to just about anything, which made Kazen glad that they would not be staying here for very long.
Kazen mulled over the night’s events well after the tiny torch from the lamp burned out, leaving the room in bare darkness. His head had just begun to nod when a messenger entered the room to summon them for their morning meal. Cupping his hands over his face, Kazen groaned as the lantern was sparked back to life. He huddled unmoving beneath his blanket while the others readied themselves.
“Come on, lad!” Skanks said, nudging Kazen with his foot. “That’s enough beauty sleep for one night! They’re serving breakfast! And I have no intention of missing a meal ever again, if I can help it.”
Rubbing his bleary eyes, Kazen got to his feet reluctantly. He patted down his rumpled hair and brushed off his uniform in a halfhearted attempt to make himself presentable. From the corner of his eye he could see E’enna glaring at him scornfully. She obviously had not forgotten about the night before. But now was not the time for apologies. It would have to wait until Kazen found a moment with her alone. And, judging by the look on her face, a simple “I am sorry” was not going to be sufficient.
At the urging of the messenger, the company finished composing themselves and followed him through the expansive maze of passageways and joining chambers. There was a different feeling in the air as they passed by clusters of men sitting on the floor or at crude tables eating their breakfast. The men hopped to attention with excited grins on their faces, bowing and waving as Kazen made his way through them. Soon, a parade of Halifexian soldiers was trailing behind the company, patting both Kazen and Ilagon on their backs, and some even presumptuous enough to reach out and touch their white locks. Turning a corner, they were stopped at the entrance to the next room by Avin, who smiled at Kazen, and then glowered over his head at the gathering crowd.
“Back to your stations, all of you!” he commanded them. He shook his head like a disapproving father as the crowd quickly dispersed. “You must forgive them. They have never seen a wizard before. They seem overzealous now, but your coming here has brought them much needed hope.” Extending his arm, Avin tipped his head. “But please, join me for breakfast. There is still much for us to discuss.”
Entering the large chamber, it seemed more a hall than an underground cavern. A short set of steps, carved from the tightly packed clay, led down into the brightly lit space. The ceiling was higher than in any of the other rooms, higher than the reach of even Kane’s lengthy arms. Tall iron torches stood in every corner of the oddly shaped alcove, their smokeless flames saturating the room in a shallow yellow glow. The walls were relatively bare, just a few cloth maps of the surrounding lands hung on the far side of the room, along with some aged banners, frayed at the ends and bleached of nearly all their color. In the center of the room was a cluster of barrels and boxes, all covered with a beaten green cloth to form a single long table, set with plates of various foods. Benches and stools lined each side of the table.
Two men, who Kazen had not seen before, sat side-by-side on one end of the table, across from Kane. The strangers, dressed in their customary green attire, stood to attention when Avin and the others entered the room. Kane remained seated, barely sparing a glance up from his plate of flat bread and dried fruit. Avin gestured for the two men to sit as he ushered Kazen and his company to their seats.
“I hope you do not mind. I have invited two of my most senior men to join us this morning. They are loyal soldiers and my trusted friends, but if you do not feel comfortable with their presence here they will not be offended.”
“Nonsense,” Ilagon said with a shake of his hand. “If you trust them, then we shall do the same.”
“Thank you.” Avin bowed his head. “I must confess, however, I have invited them here in anticipation of your accepting of my offer for aid. Together, they are my two best trackers, and they have eagerly volunteered to take you to Ruin.”
“To ruin?” E’enna asked, startled.
Avin smiled coyly and shook his head. “Forgive me. Ruin . . . It’s what the men have taken to calling the stronghold in Rassadoth.”
“A fitting name, I assure you,” interjected one of the strangers. He was a fair-haired man,
lean and wiry like most of the other men. His face was stiff and angular, framed by a smooth mane of long, yellow hair. Patches of gray spotted his whiskered chin, and deep wrinkles were set around the corners of his eyes. Though Kazen could not guess his age, if he was as young as most of the other men in the company, he did not wear his age well. “My apologies,” he said, his eyes darting over to Avin. “I did not mean to speak out of turn.”
“It’s all right, Fayn,” Avin said. “You may speak freely here.”
Turning his gaze to Kazen and Ilagon, Fayn grinned proudly as he spoke. “My lords, my name is Fayn Berrol, and it is a privilege to be in your company this morning. If I may say, your presence here has brought new life to these humble men and to myself. Until this day, I could think of no reason that I would ever desire to look upon the wretchedness of Ruin again, but to be a guide for you and your noble companions would be a great honor.”
“Thank you,” Ilagon said. “Your willingness to help us is greatly appreciated.”
“I’m not sure your enthusiasm is shared by your companion.” Shanks motioned with his head to the other man seated shyly at Fayn’s side.
This other stranger was equal in height to Fayn, but with a much huskier physique. Though he possessed more bulk than his companion, there seemed to be little strength behind his mass. His thick neck was creased with folds of supple skin, and his body was soft and rounded. Atop his head was piled a disheveled mop of short curls, pale like his counterpart’s. There was no burden on this man’s face; in fact, he wore what seemed to be a ridiculously inappropriate cheery expression, along with wide eyes contently void of any contemplation.
“This is my brother, Gillus,” Fayn said, putting a protective arm around his brother’s shoulder. “He was born without a tongue and cannot speak. But do not take pity on him or think him any less a Watcher for it! He is as strong as a horse, and none can match his ability for tracking. He may be slow in some aspects, but he has a stout heart and is as loyal as any man you would ever meet.”
The Flame Weaver Page 25
