by C. Night
Rhyen laughed. It sounded exactly like one of the dozens of their childhood exploits gone wrong, except he was uncomfortably aware that Breya and Rorend, instead of facing being sent to bed without dinner, had been facing death. “Well, I’m glad everything worked out. But why did you stay in Corna?”
Breya huffed amusedly. “You mean, what on earth could possibly have kept us from returning to the ever-exciting Yla and Falin’s growing family?”
“Breya likes the city life,” Rorend answered matter-of-factly. “I do too, actually. And city life’s been good to us. I get plenty of work down at the docks, doing repairs on ships or wagons. Lately I’ve been doing a lot for soldiers as well, mending their armor and sharpening their swords.”
This distracted Rhyen momentarily. Vaguely he remembered his errand in Corna, and he was about to ask Rorend which soldiers he had worked for, but he missed his window of opportunity and before he had a chance to speak, Rorend plowed on.
“It’s been great, Rhyen. I even started my own forge! Breya works for me.”
“Breya works with you, you mean,” his sister corrected him. “Apparently, I’m now a locksmith for him—”
“It made perfect sense, you already know how to break in to any lock, and my fingers aren’t the best for that kind of delicate work.” Rorend held up his huge hands with their thick, sausage-like fingers. “And since you now have a respectable job, you can quit all that stealing and cheating and lying stuff.”
“I don’t want to quit, Rorend,” Breya retorted. “I like that stuff, and I’m good at it.”
Rorend grinned with guilty pride. “I know you are. But still, Breya, after the DuFong incident, we’re trying to keep a low profile. remember?” Rorend narrowed his eyes and dropped his smile. “Which reminds me, what the hell are you doing here?”
Breya sniffed. “Gambling.”
Rorend glimpsed the pile of coins heaped in front of Breya’s vacated chair. “Cheating, you mean.”
Breya smirked and jerked her thumb at Cazing. “He didn’t seem to mind.”
Rorend frowned. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a practiced cheat himself,” Rhyen quickly supplied, smiling at the old sorcerer, “and he enjoys watching a master in action.” Rhyen realized that he had been neglecting his master and friend. Cazing was watching the conversation with amused interest, but Caliena had shrunk back uncertainly.
“Let me introduce you to my companions. This is Caliena,” Rhyen said, pushing Caliena lightly forward to properly introduce her. Rorend smiled at her and gently took her small white hand in his huge rough one. Her face was hard to read, but her eyes glittered darkly as she nodded politely at Breya.
“And this is… Cazing,” Rhyen said, hesitating a little as he gestured to the old sorcerer, who in turn raised his pipe in salute. Right before they had entered Corna, Cazing had told him to drop their sorcerer’s titles while in the city. It was a dangerous place, and they wanted to remain unnoticed until after their rendezvous with the king. Two steps inside the city, Rhyen had looked around at the thuggish inhabitants of the first level and understood his master’s desire for anonymity. Still, he had never introduced Cazing as anything other than “my master” or “Cazing of Avernade,” and it felt strange for him to drop the titles now.
Breya and Rorend both stiffened visibly and exchanged a glance. “Cazing?” Breya repeated thoughtfully, her rich voice strained. She kept looking sideways at her brother.
Rorend shook his head warningly at her. “So you’re Rhyen of Avernade, then,” he finally said, measuring up his old friend.
Cazing sat up straight, suddenly alert. Rhyen was completely taken aback. “How did you know that?” he asked apprehensively. He had never said that he was a sorcerer, and neither had he mentioned his title. How could an old friend, one whom he hadn’t seen in over eighteen years, know this about him?
The blacksmith and his sister swapped hard looks with each other. Like all twins, they seemed to be able to speak to each other without talking, and Rhyen had the feeling they were conversing so now.
“We’ve been hearing your name for months,” Rorend answered carefully after some time. All the lighthearted jovialness had gone from the conversation. They were both serious now, and looked thoughtfully at their old friend.
“What?” Rhyen was shocked. Caliena stiffened next to him and regarded the siblings with deep suspicion. Rhyen glanced at his master, but found that Cazing did not look surprised. Instead, he looked like someone who was receiving a long awaited package, but far earlier than they had planned. When he noticed that Rhyen was looking at him, the old sorcerer instantly made smooth his face.
Breya arched her perfect brow and regarded Rhyen seriously. “People have been asking about you.”
Caliena looked questioningly at Rhyen, who stood there, too tall and bewildered. “What kind of people?” he finally asked.
“All kinds,” Rorend replied in a low voice. He looked around the pub cautiously. When he saw that it was empty he said, “anyone and everyone. Sailors, merchants, some of the scum that live here.”
“The Zirites,” Breya added. She glanced again at her brother. “They’re offering a reward.”
Caliena froze at that. “Zirites?” she whispered venomously.
Rhyen blinked, trying to clear his head. “They came to you because you knew me from our childhood?”
“They came to everyone on this end of town,” Breya insisted.
“We didn’t know that it was you until right now,” Rorend said in hushed tones. “They said there would be two sorcerers from Avernade, one called Cazing and the other Rhyen.”
“What do they want us for?” Rhyen asked, the nervous knot in his stomach clenching again.
Breya shook her head and held Rhyen’s eye. “They just want you.”
Rhyen was reeling. He clutched his hands into fists at his side, his heart beating rapidly. What did that mean?
Rorend was considering the two sorcerers and their companion. His face was shrewd, and when he spoke it was calculated and precise. “We always knew you had magic, Rhyen, but a sorcerer? I’m impressed. Generally, high wielders are not to be trusted. But I know you, and I know that you’re a good person, and that you would keep good company.” Rorend exchanged another glance with his sister. “We don’t know why you’re here, but to come now must mean that whatever you’re doing is important.”
“It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that you’re here about the coming war,” Breya said quietly. “Why else would the Zirites want you?” The Smiths waited, their brown eyes searching Rhyen’s face with concern.
“They just want me?” Rhyen asked, his voice strange. “The Zirites—they offered a reward?”
Breya nodded. “They’ve opened a new outpost down by the docks, and more and more of their ships have been coming in for months, taking anchor out in the bay. Two months ago, they began spreading the word that they were looking for you. They came to the forge one day…” She shuddered suddenly and grabbed her brother’s elbow.
Rorend looked shaken, too. “There were only ten or so soldiers, but there was this… this figure came in….” Rorend passed an enormous hand over his eyes. “It was horrible, more like a ghost than a person, and so still…”
“And armored all in black and silent,” Rhyen whispered as the memories of the figure who had always been there, silent and still, watching him, flooded his mind. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. “The Dark Rider.” For the first time, Cazing looked at his apprentice. Rhyen swallowed and dropped his eyes. He hadn’t intended to share his secret.
“Yes,” Rorend said, taken aback. “He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to—with him there, the Zirites seemed quite powerful, and we couldn’t do anything but agree to help.”
“They said that you’d come in from the Southern gate, that you’d be coming
from Avernade. We told them we’d hand you over when we found you.”
Rorend shook his head. “But we never intended to, even before we found out it was you. We’re Condenish, even if my sister sometimes forgets it.”
“I usually am loyal to whoever has the biggest purse,” Breya admitted, “but I will not help that… thing.” She shuddered again.
“Thanks to Breya’s contacts, we know a bit more about the war than most,” Rorend went on. “And we’re not going to do anything to give the Zirites an even bigger advantage, this Dark Rider person or no.”
Rhyen looked at Cazing, who remained silent and stricken. He wished his master would chime in. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking. “So you won’t tell anyone you’ve seen us?”
The siblings immediately looked insulted. “Of course we won’t, Rhyen!” Rorend vowed loyally.
“You moron, why would you think we would?” Breya demanded.
Rhyen was suddenly seized by a surge of affection for the two, and he pulled Breya in for a hug and clapped his hand on Rorend’s burly shoulder. “I knew you wouldn’t. And I’m very grateful.” Rhyen was amazed to find that he was speaking around a lump in his throat. He swallowed very hard. “But what will happen if the Zirites find out that you’ve seen me, and didn’t report it?”
“They won’t find out. No one on this side of town would cross me,” Breya confidently assured him.
Rorend looked at his sister. “I hate to admit it, but Breya’s name does command some respect down here. No one would cross her. But anyway, she’s right—they won’t find out.”
They looked at each other again, holding another mute conversation. “Rhyen,” Rorend finally said, “we know the business of sorcerers is none of ours, but Corna is dangerous for you now. Is your errand here really worth it?”
Rhyen hesitated, struggling with what to say. He looked over at his master, and found that he was angry. What did Cazing know that he didn’t? Why didn’t he look surprised that the Zirites wanted him? Well, since the old sorcerer wasn’t helping him, Rhyen resolutely turned to his old friends. “We’re here to see the king.”
Rorend nodded, relief spreading across his face. “The palace is surrounded by the Condenish guards and army. If there is anywhere in Corna where you’ll be safe, it’s there.”
Breya was looking with disbelief at Rhyen. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t see how three people can prevent a war. Why risk your life trying? You need to leave, while you still can!”
“It’s our responsibility as sorcerers,” Rhyen replied automatically. “We must do what we can.”
“You’re mad, Rhyen!” she hissed. “Thousands of Zirite soldiers have been arriving in Corna over the past few months. They now have two garrisons completely flooded, and more living on their ships in the bay. We’ve all been braced for war for weeks. There are so many of them, they could take the city in a few days—and they’re all looking for you!”
“I have to try, Breya,” Rhyen answered quietly.
“No, Rhyen, you have to leave,” she pleaded, tears brimming in her beautiful eyes. It was out of character for her strong personality, and Rhyen realized how serious her warning was.
As Rhyen beheld her, memories surged to the foreground of his mind—Breya was his childhood sweetheart, and looking at her he could suddenly remember why. He hadn’t thought about her more than a handful of times over the long years of his apprenticeship, but he had missed her daily while studying at the Academy. If he had ever truly stopped to think about it, he would have realized that he always had thought that if he was to ever marry someone, it would be her. All of this came back to him now, and he found that, even after all this time, his heart ached as he was so near her, watching her cry for him, trying to save him. He could see by her tears that she was remembering this too, and was feeling her memories as well.
“Breya,” he began, putting his hands on her shoulders, “I have—”
She shook her head furiously. “No, Rhyen, you don’t understand. The king has gone crazy! He can’t help any of us anymore—you have to leave now!”
Rhyen looked confusedly at Rorend. The big blacksmith reluctantly gave his assent. “He has gone mad,” he admitted. “Why else would he let the Zirites move into the city in such huge droves?”
“We have a contact in the third level who will help us,” Cazing said roughly, finally contributing. “We must get to him before war breaks out.” He spoke so finally that Breya didn’t beg Rhyen to leave again, although her eyes were still bright as she shrugged his hands from her shoulders.
“Then travel only when the sun is up,” Rorend advised. “In this city, nightlife is rough. You’ll attract less attention if you are travelling during the day.”
“It helps having your friend with you,” Breya added roughly. “They’re looking only for two sorcerers, but not two sorcerers and a little girl.” Breya was only probably six or seven years older than Caliena, and Caliena narrowed her eyes murderously at the auburn beauty, who pointedly tossed her hair. Rhyen got the feeling that the two women despised each other, but he couldn’t fathom why.
“You say you have allies here in the city who will not betray you. But all the same, it’s probably best if you two leave Corna.” Cazing said to the Smiths.
Rorend nodded and smiled wanly. “After meeting you all, I think that sounds like a good idea.”
“Wait, where will you go?” Rhyen asked. He had just found his friends after all those years, and he was not eager to lose touch again.
“South,” they said together.
“To a port city called Adom, just west of the Low Country. Only a few day’s ride, a week tops—”
“And no Zirites,” Rorend finished. “And what about you—are you going to stay in Corna?”
Rhyen shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t know. It depends.” He leaned against the heavy table and put his head in his hands, thinking. Without meaning to, he muttered, “Why are they looking for me?”
The Smiths shrugged helplessly. “If it helps, they’re also looking for something else—some kind of jewel. They say you have it,” Rorend mentioned.
Rhyen slowly raised his head and caught Caliena’s wide, terrified eyes. Cazing shook his head warningly at his apprentice, his eyes fearful.
“I don’t have anything,” Rhyen lied after a short pause.
“Then I’d hate to be in your shoes, mate,” Rorend said sympathetically. “But, despite everything, it was damn good to see you.”
Rhyen grinned. “It was.”
“I’ve missed you, Rhyen,” Breya said, suddenly shy.
“I’ve missed you, too,” he responded in a quiet voice. He looked at her for a long moment. “Missed both of you,” he added honestly, his voice normal, though perhaps a little more jokingly than he felt.
“Don’t forget your winnings,” Cazing said kindly to Breya.
“Keep them,” she said with a falsely cheery smile.
“We’ll see you again,” Rorend said confidently, clapping Rhyen’s shoulder. Breya put her arms around him again, and, to Rhyen’s great surprise, kissed him quickly on the cheek.
“Good luck,” she whispered in his ear.
“You too,” he replied, but she was already out the door.
“Take care, Rhyen,” Rorend said, edging out after her.
“Be safe,” Rhyen called as the door swung shut.
With their departure, the pub seemed very still, and with the quiet Rhyen realized he was exhausted. He took Breya’s vacated chair and stared tiredly across from his master. Caliena sat primly down next to him. Her mouth was pushed together in a pout and her eyes were narrowed in thought.
“The jewel the soldiers are looking for is that rock I found,” she said matter-of-factly. “But why do they think Rhyen has it?”
“Magic calls to magic,” Cazing answered. “They knew w
e were coming from Avernade, up through the Low Country. I think they would have expected a sorcerer to feel the presence of the stone, and easily find it.”
“And they know we rode through Maypole, where the rock was buried,” Rhyen added. “We told the villagers our names when we were asking about an inn.”
Caliena looked slightly mollified, but still ponderous. “But why do the soldiers want Rhyen specifically?” Rhyen looked at Cazing too, just as eager for an answer.
“I don’t know, love,” the master replied, refilling his pipe. “But I’m guessing they hope that if they capture Rhyen, I will promise not to fight against them in the war.” Rhyen looked away. He knew his master was lying.
But Caliena instantly relaxed. “Oh! That makes sense. I’m sure that’s it.”
“Like Breya said, it’s a good thing we have you with us, Caliena.” Cazing smiled at her. “It’ll look like a father travelling with his two adult children. No one will think to look at us as the sorcerers.”
Caliena beamed back. She was much happier now. “Should we leave at dawn tomorrow?”
“I think so. We will need to get to Thom’s as quickly as possible so we can see the king.”
Caliena’s smile slipped off and a hard set came over her jaw. “You’re going to make the Zirites pay for what they did to my family, aren’t you, Cazing?”
“Of course,” he said seriously. “And I will still need your help doing that, Caliena. But now we all must be off to bed, because we have to leave at first light tomorrow and it is already late.”
She nodded and disappeared up the creaking, slimy stairs. They heard the floorboards squeak above them, but neither sorcerer made to move until long after the noises of her steps had ceased.
“You don’t really think the soldiers want me to simply incentivize you, do you?” Rhyen asked plainly.
His master hesitated. “I think we need to get to Thom’s before we discuss anything, Rhyen. We never know who might be listening here.”
Rhyen retired upstairs to a mildew-encrusted bed. He wrenched the window open and lay on his back under the salty blanket. To his astonishment, he still found that he enjoyed the sea breeze that billowed in from the grimy window. He would have bet all the money on the seventh floor of the Tower Avernade that, after the events of this night, he would not have been able to shut off his mind or to sleep. But he understood the reasons behind waiting to discuss everything until they reached Thom’s house, and now that the initial shock that soldiers were looking for him had worn off, Rhyen discovered that he could put it to the back of his mind and simply relish laying there. This surprised him, but it was a pleasant surprise. So instead of letting questions froth around in his mind, he instead thought of walking in the moonlight along the shore with Caliena, and of the hypnotic pull of the water as it swelled up and down the beach and around his legs.
