“It’s the only way to keep him alive until we get back to the caravan,” Ashok said. “You and I are too weak to carry him far.”
“He’s barely conscious. What’s to stop the nightmare from invading his dreams?”
Ashok wouldn’t lie to her. “Nothing,” he said. “You’ll have to watch him closely once we return. He’ll need someone nearby who can tell him what’s real and what isn’t. At least he’ll be alive.”
Mareyn opened her mouth to argue, but in the end, she said nothing. They arranged the boy carefully on the nightmare’s back and started down the trade route to meet the caravan.
For a long time, neither spoke. Weariness and pain marked Mareyn’s face. She checked the boy to see if he still breathed. Her own wound bled through the hasty bandage she’d put on it. Ashok watched her struggle through the pain to put one foot in front of the other.
The idea of pain as a weakening force in humans was a concept he still could not grasp. He wanted to tell Mareyn to use the pain, to let the burn in her side act as the anchor that kept her centered in this world.
Humans functioned differently. Pain yanked at their souls the way the shadows pried at his, tempting them to oblivion.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Mareyn said abruptly.
“Like what?” Ashok said.
“Like a shadar-kai.” She laughed, but it turned into a groan. “When you’re human and you’ve lived in Ikemmu long enough, you start to notice that shadar-kai look. It’s either distaste or intense fascination-the fascination is more disturbing, if you want the truth. That’s how you looked at me just now.”
“I’m sorry,” Ashok said. “It’s just-”
“I know,” Mareyn said. “We’re too different for it to be otherwise.”
Silence fell between them again, but it didn’t last long. Mareyn slowed her pace until she was barely moving at all. Ashok came up behind her and touched her shoulder.
“We need to keep moving,” he said. “The nightmare can carry both of you if you need to rest.”
“Not even Tymora’s blessing could coax me onto that beast,” Mareyn said. “And I have to keep a clear head. I can’t afford to have nightmares haunting me the rest of this journey.”
“At least stay close to its warmth.”
They picked up the pace. After another long silence, Mareyn said, “Did someone do that for you-tell you what was real and what wasn’t-when you first tamed the beast?”
“Vedoran,” Ashok said. “He was a sellsword and one of my first companions when I came to Ikemmu. He was with me when I awoke from the worst of the dreams.”
“The two of you were close?”
“For a time, yes.”
“But he’s gone now, isn’t he?” Mareyn said. “Otherwise he would be here on this journey with you.”
“Yes. Vedoran would have relished a challenge like this,” Ashok said, gazing at the unforgiving landscape, the beauty of the snow-covered mountains. When he turned away, he caught her looking at him with a wistful, sad expression in her eyes. “What is it?”
“I was just thinking of a question that’s hard to ask, and maybe it’s not entirely fair.”
“You can ask anything you want,” Ashok said. He noticed that conversation distracted her from the pain, kept her alert and moving.
“When you volunteered to come with me to save Les, what was your first thought? Did you do it out of concern for the boy? Was it for me, or did you do it because you wanted to hunt down the snowfang?”
Ashok thought back to the moments after the wolf battle. They’d all been distracted by the need for haste, both to evade the brigands and to catch up with the escaping wolves. The snowfang had blinded him with its frost breath. Ashok remembered feeling anger, both at the snowfang and at himself for being caught off guard. He’d promised himself it wouldn’t happen again, that the next time they encountered each other, Ashok would have the upper hand.
He tried to sort out where in the tangle of those thoughts he’d considered Les or Mareyn, but he couldn’t get past the excitement he’d felt at the possibility of the chase, of using the nightmare’s fire to burn the snowfang down.
His silence seemed answer enough for Mareyn. The wistful expression deepened. “I didn’t really expect anything more or less from you,” she admitted. “And you’ll always have my deepest gratitude for what you did for me-for Les-out here.”
“There’s no need to-”
“Yes, there is,” she said, cutting him off. “It’s strange-the other races in Ikemmu, especially the humans, view your people in so many different lights. I used to wonder why your leaders revered Tempus. All this time, I’d convinced myself the shadar-kai were meant to be Tymora’s servants. Your fortunes and fates are so mercurial. You plunge into every experience as if it could be your last, and you dance right to the edge. I love to watch you when you fight for the same reason. I thought you were embracing life by behaving that way.”
Ashok shook his head. “Most of us are just trying to avoid death.”
“Yes, and you’ll court any force to do it,” Mareyn said, “fortune, misfortune, creation, destruction. For your people, survival comes before everything-fear, compassion, love, hate. To put any other emotion first is a struggle for you.”
“A struggle, but it’s worth the cost,” Ashok said, remembering Reltnar and the slaughter room of his enclave. There lay the consequences of putting survival above everything else.
“The night we shared together-for you, it was a means to keep from fading,” Mareyn said. “You don’t seek companionship for the same reasons I do. I might be looking for fun, for comfort in the night, a taste of joy on a hard, cold journey. But you-you’ll share pleasure with me, but if it’s meant to aid your own survival, I don’t think I want to be responsible for that.”
“So you don’t think we share Tymora’s kiss?” Ashok said, an edge of mockery in his voice. “Our paths didn’t cross by the will of your goddess so that we could bring good fortune to each other?”
For a long time, she didn’t reply. He thought he’d angered her. Then she stopped and laid her hand over his. “Do you think I’m afraid of you, Ashok?” she asked. “Is that why you try to keep me at bay? Or do you truly hate the gods that much?”
“I ride the nightmare-the demon; you’d be wise to be afraid,” Ashok said harshly.
She laughed, which shocked him. “Oh, Ashok, don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re the most frightening thing I’ve seen in Faerun. You’re not.” She stroked the scars on his knuckles. “I’ve seen things here you can’t imagine. That’s why I want to be careful not to treat you too lightly. You’re not ready. Someday you might be, and maybe our paths will cross again when you return from Rashemen.”
“Nothing will have changed,” Ashok said. “You said it yourself-we’re too different. I’m not like you.”
“We’ll see. Until then, take care of Ilvani,” Mareyn said. “I want her to find the peace she needs.”
“So do I.” In that, at least, they were united. “I hope whatever path you walk continues to bring your goddess’s favor,” he said. “May Tymora never disappoint you.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence, until they heard the rumble of wagons and the snuffling of weary horses. Slowly the caravan came into view, diminished but safe.
“They did it,” Ashok said. “Ilvani and Daruk drove back the brigands.”
“Tymora be praised,” Mareyn said. Briefly, she embraced him, and they went to join the others.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The caravan spent three days tending to its wounded and seeing to the dead. Vlahna sent scouts ahead to report on how far they were from the road out of the mountains. Blessedly, they were only a day away from passing out of the mountains and into Rashemen. Their remaining supplies would hold out long enough for them to get to Mulsantir.
Despite this news, the caravan crew was discouraged and grieved for their losses. The Martucks were elated to have their boy
returned to them, but Ashok sat on guard duty each of those three nights and listened to Les toss in his sleep until finally the boy woke up screaming. His parents sat up with him and never slept. They endured it when the boy woke and yelled and lashed out at them with loosely clenched fists when he didn’t recognize them. By the third night, he was quieter in his dreaming, but Ashok knew the nightmare still worked on his mind. The boy was probably reliving his ordeal with the wolves. The Martucks never accused Ashok of anything, but they stayed as far away from him and the nightmare as the caravan would allow.
Here again was the price. Ashok had brought the beast into their midst to protect the caravan and especially to protect Ilvani. He, Les, and Mareyn would have certainly died without the nightmare’s intervention with the snowfang. But Vlahna had been right. The cost for such protection was to allow a monster to walk among them, and Ashok held its reins.
Of all of them, the dying Tuva seemed in the best spirits. The pain he felt walking around must have been unfathomable, but Ashok saw how it sharpened him and narrowed the focus of his world to include only the caravan and its crew. That single-minded intent probably saved them from despair and more deaths during those three days.
On the fourth day, when everyone was well enough to travel, they moved out, and Tuva stayed at the back of the caravan with Ashok, the brothers, and Ilvani. Ashok held the nightmare well back from the others, just barely keeping the rear of the caravan in sight. Tuva walked beside him.
“Your friends told me what happened to you the night you encountered the Tuigan,” Tuva said. “What was it like, riding with ghosts?”
“Like nothing I can describe,” Ashok said. “I felt … immortal, as if I was part of a tale that had been hundreds of years in the telling.”
Tuva nodded. “You did a great service for that warrior, guiding him to Tempus’s side.”
“I don’t know that it was Tempus who claimed his soul,” Ashok said. “It could have been any god.”
“It was Tempus.” Tuva smiled. Ashok noticed a faint sheen of blood on his lips. “You are His emissary. It was right to … be you.” His steps faltered.
Ashok reached out, intending to support the warrior, but Tuva brushed his hand away and kept walking.
“I should call Vlahna,” Ashok said.
Tuva shook his head. “We’ve had words already. I won’t see her again.” He focused on Ashok’s face with an effort. “Do you have a message for Him, Ashok, if my soul makes it to his side?”
“You will make it,” Ashok said. “Tempus gains a great warrior this day. Tell Him that, and may He never forget it.”
Tuva chuckled weakly. “I like you, Ashok. You have a sharp tongue, and you’re fearless. I’ll walk beside you a little longer,” he said.
He took three more steps and was dead before he fell. Ashok caught the man gently at the shoulders and lowered his body to the ground.
“Tempus,” Ashok said. His voice hardened. “Remember my words. Claim your warrior’s soul, and never forget his worth.”
He held Tuva’s body in silence for several long moments while the caravan passed on out of sight ahead of them. The warrior’s body went cold so fast-another soul gone, yet Ashok still lived.
Tuva, Olra, Vedoran, Chanoch.
If he closed his eyes, Ashok could see them all standing before him out of the shadows.
Waiting.
When he heard the sound of hoofbeats, Ashok looked up. He wasn’t surprised to see Cree riding toward him. Ilvani rode beside him on Skagi’s horse.
“You felt it?” Ashok asked Ilvani.
The witch nodded. She and Cree kneeled beside Tuva’s body. Cree said a prayer for the warrior-no less fervent than Ashok’s, but perhaps more respectful.
True to Tuva’s words, Vlahna led the caravan on while Ashok and Ilvani stayed behind to tend to Tuva’s body. Ilvani spoke a few words and moved her hands over the shadar-kai’s body. Flames spread from her hands and consumed him. It reminded Ashok too much of Olra’s funeral, and he turned away quickly to follow the caravan.
Ilvani lingered. She watched the road ahead of them with trepidation.
“What is it?” Ashok asked. “Do you see something?”
“An owl,” Ilvani said.
Ashok looked, but there were no birds in the sky. “What does it mean?”
“One spirit is gone, but the others are waiting,” Ilvani said. “The monsters are gone, but there are more frightening things this side of the mountains.”
“We’ll deal with whatever comes,” Ashok said. “You won’t have to face it alone.”
Ilvani nodded, but she kept casting glances at the sky, and Ashok saw her rubbing her arms where she’d cut herself. The wounds had healed, but it was as if she could still feel them.
As they walked together, Ashok found himself wishing he could ask her about Tuva’s soul. Would she know if Tempus claimed it? Ashok wanted Tuva to find peace with his god. He wanted to think of all the souls of his friends at rest, even if he could not claim that peace for himself. Knowing his companions were free of their burdens, Ashok felt as if he could face his own shadows.
The caravan came down out of the High Country, where Rashemen spread out before them. The foothills were rough terrain, and the weather stayed bitterly cold, but the wind died down for a spell, giving them an unbroken vista of the snow-covered country. The sun came out two days after Tuva’s death. For the first time it shone so brightly, it pained Ashok’s eyes.
He found himself staring up at the bright light until his head throbbed and orange and yellow spots completely obscured his vision. More than once, he caught himself falling behind, and finally he forced himself to concentrate on the path ahead.
The sun turned the packed snow to glistening diamonds, and this, too, threatened to dazzle his eyes, but Ashok kept moving until the caravan drew to a halt after highsun.
They’d stopped for a rest not long ago. Ashok knew there must be something wrong. He took the nightmare and rode to the front of the caravan, taking a wide route so as not to disturb the horses.
In the distance, riders approached. Ashok reached for his chain. When they got closer, he saw they resembled the man he and Mareyn had encountered in the mountains. They were dressed in similar hide or leather armor and carried long knives, bows, and arrows.
Vlahna rode up next to Tatigan’s wagon and waited while the merchant climbed down to accompany her to meet the group. Skagi rode up beside Ashok.
“Strange, they don’t look happy to see us,” he said.
“Be ready in case that’s true,” Ashok murmured.
Skagi nodded. The riders fanned out around them. They ranged in age from twenty to fifty winters, in Ashok’s estimation. The eldest, a bearded warrior with long gray braids and a tattoo of a raven on his neck, came forward to meet Tatigan.
“Well met, Ralemvic of the Raven lodge,” said Tatigan, raising a hand to greet the warrior. “Do you remember me?”
The Rashemi nodded. “You’re known to me and to the people of Thasunta, Tatigan. My people speak of you as a fair trader. On any other day, I would welcome you to these lands.”
“Oh? Why not this day? Forgive me, but as you can see, my fellows and I walked a hard road. We hoped to beg the hospitality of Thasunta,” Tatigan said. His tone was mild, but Ashok had been on the road with the merchant long enough to detect the tension underlying the words.
“I see that you’ve had a difficult time,” Ralemvic said. “But you won’t find sanctuary here. Our nights and days have been disturbed of late. The spirits walk about the land, restless and unfriendly to those they encounter. You will be much better off passing through Rashemen and heading west into Thesk to trade your wares. Many who would have bought and sold goods refuse to leave their homes. They work and prepare offerings to appease the spirits.”
Ashok and Skagi exchanged a glance. The news confirmed what they’d suspected all along. Whatever affliction had spread among the creatures of the Shadowfell was also pre
sent in Rashemen.
“We had hoped to stop and trade here and in Tinnir,” Tatigan said regretfully, “but if that village, too, has shut itself off, there’s no reason for us to linger. But surely we may find willing merchants in Mulsantir?”
“I can’t speak for Mulsantir,” Ralemvic said. “Our concerns are Thasunta and the road between it and Tinnir. You have the freedom to travel. I warned of the dangers. Bhalla protect you.”
“My thanks,” Tatigan said, “and take care, yourselves.”
Ralemvic nodded. He wheeled his horse around, and his companions made to follow. Before he turned away, the elder warrior cast his gaze over the caravan again. When he noticed Ashok and Skagi at the edge of the road, his eyes widened. He quickly masked the reaction and rode away, but Ashok noticed that he dug his heels into his horse’s sides to spur the animal faster.
“Did you see that?” Ashok said.
“I saw it,” Skagi said. “Either they’ve never seen a shadar-kai before-”
“Or they have seen our kind and made enemies of them,” Ashok said.
“Unless he recognized your pony,” Skagi said. “He’s enough to make anyone fidgety.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think he could tell what the beast was at this distance,” Ashok said. The nightmare’s flame burned low in the bitter cold. He’d never appeared so much like a common black stallion. Even his fear aura was limited to a few feet out from his body. Ashok was grateful. He hadn’t tried to put the enchanted necklace back on the nightmare. Without a cleric nearby, if the stallion resisted as forcefully as he had last time, Ashok would have been in no condition to help his friends in Rashemen.
“Won’t help our cause, him looking at us like that,” Skagi said.
“We have to hope they’ll be more welcoming in Mulsantir,” Ashok agreed.
“Ashok.”
Ashok turned and saw Cree ride up. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know-maybe nothing, but Ilvani wandered off by herself toward the village. Mareyn rode after her.”
Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road (single books) Page 23
