Weremage: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 5)

by Garrett Robinson

  Loren leaned in close. “That was well done.”

  “You had an equal hand in it,” said Chet, and kissed her cheek. They kept on with the dance, sneaking glances at the children all the while. Gem danced as easily as he had with Loren, laughing and smiling at Annis, whose cheeks had gone dark pink as their hands clasped. Her steps were still staggered and halting, but Gem led her easily enough, making up for her stilted movements with his own liquid grace.

  The song ended. Chet and Loren bowed to each other. Gem stepped back to do the same, but Annis was slow to release his hands, and he laughed as he pried his fingers free to bow to her.

  Then he ran over to the table where the Mystics sat. Niya waved him off, and he did not even offer his hand to Shiun’s steely glare, but went to Uzo. The dark young man gave Gem’s outstretched hands a bemused look, his eyebrows rising slowly. Then he shrugged and got to his feet, following Gem away from the table as the next song began. But Annis still stood in the middle of the floor, looking after the boy.

  “May I?” came a voice. Loren turned to find that it was Niya, who had risen and approached them. She held one bare, muscular arm forth, hand extended in an invitation. Loren’s cheeks burned, and she saw Chet glare.

  “I have tired myself out, I am afraid,” said Loren. “Mayhap Chet would accept your offer.”

  “Mayhap I would not,” said Chet, crossing his arms.

  “That is just as well,” said Niya, shrugging. “I do not think such a spindly frame could accommodate me. Perhaps another time, then.”

  Chet’s scowl deepened, and he took a half-step forwards. But Niya turned and left them, striding straight past her table and out of the room. Loren returned with Chet to her own table, for indeed she had grown weary with dancing, and drank deep of the cup of wine she had left there.

  When they had rested, they danced again, and then they drank again, and after they had done that a few times more, they fetched themselves more food to eat. The feasting had begun soon after midday, and would continue until everyone in the hall had gone to bed, or fallen senseless beneath their tables. At some point Loren lost track of Annis, and then of Gem, and then Annis reappeared, and then she stopped looking after either one of them at all. She had just taken it into her head that she might retire to her chamber with Chet—mayhap for the night, or mayhap just for half an hour or so—when a hand clutched at her sleeve. She turned to find Gem standing before her, wide-eyed and breathless. At once she sensed that something was wrong, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “What is it?” she said.

  “I went to relieve myself,” he said. “When I was walking back through the courtyard, I saw someone in the yard. At first I paid them no mind—until I saw that it was Hewal. He looked to be readying a horse for travel.”

  Loren and Chet looked to each other. Travel? On the final day of Yearsend? “Kal could have sent him on some perfectly ordinary errand, to deliver a message,” said Chet, though even he did not sound convinced.

  “Now? Any message could surely wait until tomorrow.” Loren looked to the head of the room. There sat Kal. Wine had not appeared to improve his mood, for he scowled ever more heavily at the minstrels and the dancing. She could go and ask him … but he looked to be in no mood for questions, and if something was wrong, Hewal would likely evade them before she could go after him. “We must follow him.”

  “We should be quick,” said Gem. “He will leave at any moment.”

  They leapt from their table and flew from the dining hall. Loren was thankful she had worn her cloak to the feast, but Chet and Gem had no such protection, and they huddled into themselves against the sudden, biting wind. At least there was no rain. The day had waned on, and the sun was only a finger’s breadth above the horizon, but night’s chill had come early.

  She saw him there in the courtyard: Hewal, fiddling with the straps of his saddlebags. He paid no mind to them, nor to the few others who milled about the courtyard or the walls. And why should he pay any mind to them, or they to him? It was well-known that he was a messenger for Kal. Anyone would assume that he was on the chancellor’s business.

  “Go and fetch cloaks for travel,” said Loren. “I will ready horses for us.”

  Chet nodded and turned to obey—but the door opened behind them, and he stopped short. Framed in the light of the doorway was Niya, and beside her stood Weath. Weath merely looked confused, but Niya’s eyes were narrowed, and her brows drawn together.

  “What is it?” she said. “What is wrong?”

  Loren hesitated only a moment before replying, “It is nothing. I only wanted a moment of fresh air.”

  “That is a lie,” said Niya flatly. “I saw the three of you when you ran out of the dining hall. Something is the matter. What is it?”

  Loren looked uneasily at her friends. Chet was glowering at Niya, while Gem balanced on the balls of his feet, hesitant to leave now that the Mystics had arrived. But what should she say? She had known Weath for some time, and had traveled a long way with Niya—but how would they react if she told them she meant to chase down one of their own?

  “Out with it,” said Niya. “I shall not leave it be, and so you had better tell me now, lest I keep you from whatever mischief you are about to get up to.”

  “A messenger is about to leave the stronghold,” Loren began.

  “Loren,” said Chet, a warning tone in his voice.

  She pressed on, ignoring him. “We believe he may be up to something. I cannot explain why, and I may be wrong, but we mean to follow him and find out for certain.”

  A long moment of silence stretched. Weath looked to Niya, but Niya did not take her gaze from Loren. At last she nodded. “Very well. Weath, fetch Shiun. We may need her to track him.”

  “I … what do you mean?” said Loren.

  “We are coming with you, of course,” said Niya. “Or have you forgotten that the Lord Prince himself assigned us to your service?”

  Loren doubted very much that the Lord Prince had envisioned such a scenario as this. But they had wasted too much time already—glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Hewal had already left the upper courtyard through the gate, and was no doubt making his way down through the second level of the stronghold even now. “Very well,” she said. “Get ready to ride as quickly as you may—and Chet, fetch those cloaks now.”

  He frowned for a moment, looking distrustfully at Niya, but then ran to do as she said. Loren looked at the Mystics and tossed her head towards the stairs.

  “Let us get on with it, then, and hope that we are not already too late.”

  sixteen

  LOREN LED GEM AND NIYA to the stables at a dead run, going straight to Midnight’s stall. As she began to ready the blanket and saddle, the mare nickered and tossed her mane, sensing the excitement on the air.

  “After so many days of idleness, I am relieved we have something to do at last,” said Niya from across the stable.

  Loren could not help smiling at her, though she quickly masked it as she noticed Gem eyeing her. “I must admit I feel the same.”

  They had almost readied the horses to ride by the time Chet returned, and with him came Weath and Shiun. He had already donned his own cloak, and he threw another into Gem’s hands. The party brought their horses into the courtyard and mounted quickly, with Loren dragging Gem up to sit behind her in the saddle. They rode out of the gate and through the second level, then through the bottom level to the final gate that opened upon the ramp leading down. There they stopped, and Niya hailed one the gate guards.

  “The messenger who just left through here,” she said. “Which way did he ride?”

  “The south road,” said the guard.

  They did not pause to answer, but rode out at once. Loren spurred Midnight to the head of the group, but Niya slapped the reins of her own horse until the two were neck and neck. At the crossroads they pulled to a stop again, looking down the south road. But they saw no sign of Hewal upon it, nor of any rider.

  �
��Shiun, take the lead,” said Niya. “If he diverts from the road, you will see it better than any of us.”

  “Chet should ride beside her,” said Loren. “He is a hunter.”

  Niya raised her brows. “Of rabbits, perhaps. I doubt he has often stalked men on horseback.” Chet glowered, and she sighed. “Very well. Shiun and Chet, ride in front.”

  The Mystic said nothing, but only nodded and nudged her horse. Now they made their way more slowly, for Shiun could not keep a good lookout at a gallop. The reduced pace grated on Loren’s nerves, but she knew from her own little experience at hunting that they could not press on any faster, lest they lose the way.

  After a time, Shiun stopped her horse and pointed off the road. “There. Fresh tracks leading that way.”

  Loren gave Chet a glance. He rolled his eyes and shrugged at her, and she smirked. Niya nudged her horse forward beside Shiun’s. “Can you follow him more quickly now?”

  Shiun nodded. “Yes. He has cut through the land heedlessly. He does not think anyone is following him.”

  “That is his folly. Lead on.”

  They rode on at a light canter, with Shiun only giving her horse the slightest nudge in either direction, until they reached the edge of a forest. The last sliver of sun just barely showed above the horizon, and the way ahead was dark beneath the boughs. Shiun looked to Niya and raised her brows.

  “The trail will soon be hard to follow, at least until the moons rise,” she said. “But if he continues to ride straight, I think we might follow him easily enough. From here, though, we should go on foot, or we might alert him to our presence sooner than we would wish.”

  Niya frowned. Then she looked to Loren. “Nightblade? Should we press on?”

  Loren blinked. Niya had seemed forceful enough so far, but now she wanted Loren to give the orders? “I … we should. If our suspicions are correct, we cannot be too stringent in our pursuit.”

  With a nod, Niya turned to Shiun again. “As she says.”

  They dismounted, and Shiun led them between the trunks. Very soon, sunlight vanished from the sky that was just visible through the branches above, and they had to make their way more slowly, with Shiun leading them straight down the same direction they had already been traveling. Eventually the moons appeared, and then they were able to increase their pace once again.

  “How does he know where he is going?” said Gem.

  Loren glanced back at him. “Hm?”

  “I mean, I know how we are following him,” said the boy. “We can see his tracks—or at least, that woman can, because I feel blind as a bat in this forest. What I mean is—how does he know where he is going? There is no path here to follow. How does he pick his way so unerringly?”

  Chet shrugged. “Paths are not always necessary. If one comes to a place often enough, the feet begin to remember the way, better than a sailor steering by the stars.”

  Weath raised her head to look at the rest of them. “Then he comes this way often. This is not his first time—nor, likely, his second or third, but one of many.”

  That cast a solemn silence over them all.

  Soon Shiun bid them all to halt with an upraised hand. Drawing Loren and Niya to her side, she pointed ahead through the trees.

  “What is it?” whispered Niya. “I see nothing.”

  “I see it,” said Loren. There, a few hundred paces ahead, was a horse tied to a tree. She could not be certain it was Hewal’s from such a distance, but it was black, as his had been. “But where is Hewal?”

  “Nearby, no doubt,” said Shiun. “We should leave our own horses nearby. Hidden. Then the three of us—or, better, only two—should go on alone.”

  “Three,” said Niya. “He would not come out here to be on his own. He is meeting someone. If it comes to a fight, I would rather outnumber them.”

  Shiun nodded. Loren handed Midnight’s reins to Chet. But when she turned to go, he caught her hand. “Be careful,” he whispered.

  “I shall,” she told him. “And besides, Shiun and Niya will be with me.”

  Chet eyed them uncomfortably. “Forgive me if I am not greatly comforted.”

  Loren smiled and touched his cheek. “Take the horses and the others and get out of sight, in case Hewal should circle around and return for his steed before we can come to warn you.

  She turned to follow Shiun. She led them through the woods, bow out and an arrow half-drawn. Niya had not had time to fetch her sword, but she had a knife in her hand. Loren had only her hands–and the dagger hidden on the back of her belt, though she would not draw that unless it was a matter of life and death. They moved as silently as they could. Loren knew how to muffle her steps, and Shiun was quiet as a mouse. Niya did her best, but the woman was clearly not well practiced in woodcraft, and Loren winced at her every footfall. A light drizzle began to fall upon them. Loren put up the hood of her cloak and brushed the hair from her eyes.

  Shiun stopped and held out a hand for them to do the same. She pointed ahead to where two figures huddled together against the rain. The one in the red cloak was clearly Hewal. The other was unfamiliar—and Loren was a little disappointed, though perhaps not surprised, to see that they did not wear blue and grey.

  “Do you recognize her?” said Loren.

  “I do not,” said Niya. “But that means little. This whole kingdom is strange to me.”

  “Hist,” said Shiun, and drew them back into the shadows of the forest—for Hewal had turned away from the other figure and begun to walk back towards them. As he passed them by, Loren leaned forward and peered towards the other figure. In her hand she held a piece of paper—a message from Hewal.

  “There,” she whispered, pointing.

  “I see it,” murmured Niya. “Wait a moment longer for him to get out of earshot. Then let us take her.”

  “Go ahead,” said Shiun. She raised her bow. “I shall watch over you from here, and prevent her from escape if she should escape your grasp.”

  Niya rolled her shoulders, casting her red cloak off her bare, muscular arms. “That is unlikely.”

  Loren struck out to the left, circling around through the woods as she approached the figure. The woman, whoever she was, made her way through the woods in the opposite direction from where Hewal had gone. She moved slowly, clearly not expecting any threat in the darkness. Loren shadowed her steps several paces to her left hand side, while Niya drew closer and closer from the rear.

  When Niya was almost close enough to charge, Loren made her move. She ran forward a few quick paces, letting her feet fall heavy and loud, and then slapped her hand on a tree trunk for good measure.

  The woman came to a stop at once and froze, her eyes searching the darkness between the trees. Niya struck at once, flying through the air and bearing the woman to the ground. She fought like a wildcat, but Niya wrestled her facedown into the loam, holding one arm twisted behind her back and jerking it upward until the woman grunted with pain.

  “Give us the message,” hissed Niya through gritted teeth.

  “I have no message,” said the woman.

  Loren pulled her cloak aside and dug through its pockets. In a moment she heard the crinkling of parchment, and soon she had the letter. Shiun appeared from the darkness nearby, her arrow trained on the woman they had captured, the bow half-drawn.

  She pulled it out, broke the seal, and unfolded it, leaning far over so that her body shielded it from the drizzle. The words, of course, were ineligible to her, but she did not need to see them. There, at the bottom of the page, was a symbol she knew well—a twisted, spiked design, like a vine that wound in and around itself, but covered with thorns. The symbol of the Shades. She sucked a sharp breath in between her teeth.

  Niya looked up. “What? What does it say?”

  “Enough,” said Loren. “We may return to Ammon now. Bring this one with us.”

  But the woman on the ground gave a great heave, and Niya lost her balance for just a moment. The woman’s hand darted to her belt and drew
forth a dagger. Loren cried out a warning, diving at Niya and bearing her backward to take her out of the dagger’s reach—but the woman plunged the dagger into her own heart. She collapsed, hunching over the blade, and her lifeblood splashed upon the dark mud to turn it darker still.

  seventeen

  “DARKNESS TAKE HER!” SNARLED NIYA. She leapt upon the woman and flipped her over, perhaps hoping to keep her alive. But it was far too late for that.

  Loren seized her shoulder and drew her back. “Doubtless it will, but we have more pressing business. Hewal has gotten too far already—mayhap he will return to Ammon, but mayhap he will not. We must catch him at once.”

  “Very well,” said Niya. She gave the woman’s corpse one final glare before turning to go. “Let us chase him down. I will take my anger out upon his hide.”

  As quickly as they could, they ran back the way they had come. When they reached the place where Hewal’s horse had been, they found it already gone. Chet and the others emerged from the jungle, the horses in tow. Gem’s eyes were wide, while Chet’s brows had drawn together in concern.

  “What happened?” said Chet. “Hewal came back this way, mounted, and rode off. We feared something may have happened to you.”

  “Not to us, but to someone he met with,” said Loren. “We must catch him, and quickly. Gain your saddles and ride!”

  They did, spurring to a fast trot, for they could not safely go any faster between the trees. As soon as they emerged from the forest into open ground, Shiun stopped them. They scanned the horizon, but could see nothing in the moonslight.