Soldier Son (The Teralin Sword Book 1)

by D. K. Holmberg

  After the Mage was gone, Endric crept back toward the front of the building and peered down the street. The Mage turned down one of the intersecting streets and disappeared. Endric looked back toward the square and the cloaked figure that stood staring after the Mage for a moment longer before spinning and striding out of the square in the opposite direction. There was something about his walk that gave Endric pause.

  “What is it?”

  Endric suppressed a jump. He had been focusing on the figures and had not heard Pendin approach. “I don’t know. Something is odd.”

  “Like us patrolling in Stahline?”

  Endric shrugged, trying to downplay their assignment. He was not sure if he even convinced himself. “If not us, someone else. Father increased patrols here after the last episode.” Episode was putting it lightly, but riot felt like too strong a word. Either way, the people in Stahline had nearly destroyed an entire block. The fires had burned until the Magi had sent help in the form of the Denraen.

  “Then what?”

  Endric shook his head. “Not sure. I think the other was Denraen.” He wasn’t sure why he thought that, but something about it struck him as true. The shorter of the two was lean enough that his sword protruded from his cloak. Could be nothing. Or everything. Endric didn’t know, but he did know he couldn’t let it drop.

  Pendin scrubbed a hand across his face and frowned. “What does that mean?”

  Endric shook his head. He had no clue what would lead one of the Magi into Stahline at night. And why would a Denraen be meeting the Mage in secret? Unless he had the whole scenario wrong.

  “Let’s follow them,” he suggested.

  Pendin blinked slowly, the serious expression on his face making it clear that he considered whether Endric was joking. When Endric didn’t say anything more, he shook his head slightly. “Follow a Mage councilor? And some mysterious Denraen? We should get back to what we were assigned. The patrol.”

  “I’ll take the Denraen. You follow the Mage,” Endric said, ignoring Pendin’s comment.

  His friend simply snorted. His wide nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “You take the Mage.”

  Endric shook his head. “I can move quieter. Just see where he goes. Even better if you can figure out who it is.” He looked at Pendin a moment, waiting for his decision. Not that it was truly in doubt.

  Endric wasn’t sure what he would chose, but finally Pendin nodded and moved down the street. He kept to the side but made no effort to hide his presence. Still, the shadows hung around him, slipping over the gray Denraen uniform. Soon he was barely visible. Endric watched as he paused at an intersecting street and then turned, disappearing completely from view.

  His task would be more challenging, but he knew he was better suited for it than Pendin. While his friend’s knowledge of the streets in this part of town would be an advantage when trailing a Mage, silence was important if the other was truly Denraen.

  Something about the encounter felt off. Endric couldn’t say what it was that bothered him, but instinct hammered into him by years of his brother’s training left him with a heightened sense of concern.

  Endric felt his heart surge excitedly as he started down the street, and didn’t think about what it meant. He was acutely aware of the thrill of the chase. His pounding heart and the nervous energy suffusing him were evidence to that. Distantly though, there was something more, yet he ignored it, focusing only on his quarry.

  Passing through the square in silence, the worry over what would happen if Urik discovered he had ignored his order was pushed to the back of his mind. He could argue that he was patrolling. Perhaps not in the way Urik intended. Endric tried to shake his misgivings but knew the en’raen would be disappointed and wondered if he would be assigned more patrol. At the least, he would shield Pendin from trouble. Somehow.

  Endric followed the path he imagined the other had taken. He wasn’t sure why he felt the person was Denraen, but there was something familiar about the way he carried himself, something Endric was certain he had seen in his own training. Not from Andril. His brother was different than most of the Denraen, taught by their father and nearly his equal. This was something else.

  The thought troubled him as he clung to the shadows, trailing the memory of the other figure. The streets had narrowed and, if possible, the lighting around him had grown more subdued. Nothing else moved along the street other than a gentle northern breeze. It blew in the stench from this part of the city and was harsh enough that he struggled to ignore it, stealing some of the focus he needed for the chase.

  When he was nearly ready to turn back, a flicker of motion slipped around a corner in the distance. The corner was little more than a smudge along the street where shadows seemed to collide. He approached it carefully. Each step fell lightly, his footing cautious and slow so he didn’t thud along the broken cobbles. There could be no misstep now.

  Peering slowly around the corner, he realized he was on the edge of Stahline. The street widened here, and the shops along the street were different. The shops nearby were dark, but farther along, lanterns burned brightly. And cleanly. The shops were less worn. Bright paint marked the storefronts clearly. No garbage lay unattended. It was as if the people here were trying to look as unlike Stahline as possible.

  The sudden change took him aback, if only briefly. Endric let his eyes adjust as he stared cautiously down the street. Just because he neared the edge of Stahline didn’t mean the danger had passed. He saw movement at the far end of the street but wasn’t sure it was the same figure, though the street was otherwise empty.

  But not silent. Sound drifted down the street as a mixture of faint noise, the melody of the night. Several taverns lined the street, and he could no longer be certain where the figure he had followed ended up. Perhaps the movement at the end of the street wasn’t even the same person.

  Endric closed his eyes and sighed, letting his sudden frustration wash away as he exhaled. The calming trick was one of many Andril had taught him, but it only partially worked.

  Finally, he started out of the shadows and down the street, not trying to hide his presence but not announcing he was Denraen. Nothing else joined him as he moved along. It wasn’t until he neared another intersection that he saw motion. He fought the urge to freeze and continued forward. His hand inched toward the hilt of his sword and his shoulders tensed. His heart hammered a little more quickly than necessary. Sweat beaded on his forehead although the night was otherwise cool.

  He didn’t know why he should be nervous, but instinct sent him warnings and Andril had taught him to pay attention to such things. He was on edge when the muted sound of running along the cobblestone street echoed back to him.

  Endric quickened his pace. He wondered if the other was already aware of him. Running after would only announce his presence. The other was obviously trying to mask his running and doing so with a trick that was distinctively Denraen. The muffled steps were testament to that. No longer was there doubt that he trailed one of the Denraen. Now he only needed to know who he trailed.

  Ignoring the noise emanating from the taverns, he focused on the sound ahead of him. He was able to filter it out and took side streets, hoping to head the other off or intercept him, but he never got any closer. Always, the sound stayed far ahead of him.

  And then it was gone, stopped suddenly.

  Endric froze, gripping his sword as he did. Waiting. Other than his careful breathing, no sound came.

  He had been bested. There was no doubt in his mind that the other figure from the square in Stahline had realized he was followed. And was Denraen. He didn’t know why one of the Magi would have a clandestine meeting with a Denraen in that part of the city. Some part of him warned that there was a larger plot going on. Perhaps something his father should know about.

  Or did he already? Was that why his council had convened?

  Endric hated having questions without answers. He started down the street, recognizing now where he was
, and hoped Pendin had better luck.

  5

  He didn’t find Pendin back at the barracks.

  Endric felt a moment of worry, thinking that it wouldn’t have taken long to follow the Mage. Unless the Mage had taken some strange route, but there were few places the Magi visited, and Endric figured they would quickly return to the palace.

  The huge palace of the Magi on the third terrace loomed over the barracks. When the clouds parted, you could often see the three towers topped by pointed spires framing the large central palace. Now, some thousand years after the first Magi appeared, it was still steeped in mystery, even to those who lived in the city. Perhaps more so.

  Endric had never seen the inside, but it was said to be nearly the equal in craftsmanship to the Tower of the Gods in Thealon. Ordinarily, it was clearly built by lesser artisans, but the thin moonlight mixed with the faintly glowing stone of the palace, and low-hanging clouds appeared to circle the upper towers in such a way that tonight, he could believe it was.

  “Thinking of the gods?”

  Endric spun at the words. His hand squeezed his sword as he tensed. How could he have been so careless as to let someone sneak up on him? A shadowed figure stood nearby. Too tall and muscled to be the person he had been following but still, he felt stupid for his carelessness.

  “Andril?” he asked. At least it had been one of the most skilled Denraen sneaking up on him. That still didn’t change his irritation.

  His brother stepped forward. In his uniform and with his sword, he looked every bit the fearsome en’raen. He didn’t smile as he approached, and the shadows seemed to hang on and around him.

  “You seem jumpy,” Andril said.

  Endric considered telling his brother what he had seen but decided against it. Andril would only chastise him for disobeying Urik’s order. “It’s nothing.”

  Andril tilted his head as he considered for a moment. Endric worried his brother would press him. He wouldn’t lie to Andril.

  Finally Andril shook his head. “It’s late.”

  “Urik,” he said in answer.

  A tight smile crossed Andril’s face and he snorted. “Perhaps he will be good for you.”

  Endric breathed out slowly. In the chill of the growing night, his breath was visible. “I could still go with you.” Surely Urik would agree. If only Andril would.

  Andril shook his head. “No.” The word hung in the air longer than the breath it had taken to say it.

  He wouldn’t have his brother leave the city angry with him. Bad enough that he was leaving disappointed in him. He opened his mouth, and what came out was not what he intended. “Be careful, Andril.”

  “Just scouting. There should be no fighting.”

  Endric shook his head. “Not what I meant.”

  Andril watched him for a moment. “Do as Urik asks. Promise me you will learn what it means to be Denraen while I am gone.”

  “I know what Denraen means, Andril.”

  “Do you?” Andril stared at him a moment, then frowned and shook his head. “No. I don’t think you yet understand.”

  “We are peacekeepers. Defending the Urmahne ideal. That is all.” The gods knew there had been battles, though. The Denraen often moved in to settle disputes and too often had to wage war to end war. “Denraen means protector,” Endric said. He was growing annoyed that his father and now Andril thought he wouldn’t know this. One thing his father made sure he knew, teaching much of it to him personally, was the ancient language. “The Denraen ensure and protect peace. We protect the Magi and the Urmahne gods they serve.” He tried to keep the sarcasm from his voice as he spoke.

  Andril didn’t miss it though. “Father was right. You have much to learn.” He raised a hand when Endric attempted to speak, cutting him off. “You’re right. Denraen means protector. But there is more to it than that. The ancient language has many layers to it. In this case, protector is but one.” He frowned at Endric, his face somehow managing to look just like their father’s with the expression. Both now wore the same mask of disappointment. “Keep your eyes and mind open. Do as Urik asks and you will learn the true purpose of the Denraen.”

  As he started away, he paused to look back. His eyes flickered to the palace briefly before returning to focus on Endric again. He had stepped just far enough away that the shadows surrounding him made reading his expression difficult, casting a haunted look on his face.

  For long moments, he said nothing. Then, finally, he broke the silence. “Know that I love you, brother. That will never change.”

  Then he turned and walked away, disappearing quickly and silently into the dark night.

  Endric sighed and finally shook his head. At least he had not completely burned the bridge between him and Andril. Something good had come of this evening.

  “You look lost.”

  Endric turned quickly, cursing himself again for lack of awareness. Pendin eyed him strangely. Though he respected Pendin, his friend still should not have been able to sneak up on him. That made twice tonight.

  “Just distracted.”

  “Did you find him?”

  Endric shook his head. “Followed him out of Stahline and then lost him. I think he knew he was followed.”

  Pendin took a step forward, moving into the pale light of the moon filtering through the heavy clouds overhead. His face was drawn and a troubled look furrowed his brow. He frowned and scratched a hand over his shaved head. “Do you think you were seen?”

  Endric shrugged. “Not sure. Probably not, though I didn’t disguise my presence. Would have been too hard.” He let go of his frustration with a deep breath. “I think he just sensed something off. I know I did.”

  Pendin grunted. “Something is off here, Endric. I followed the Mage. Thought he would go to the palace and he did, just not straight away. Stopped in a small shop at the edge of town. Couldn’t tell from the sign what it was.”

  “He? Did you get a look at his face?”

  Pendin shook his head.

  “What did you see?”

  “Long face. Thin nose. Short hair. For the most part, they all look alike.”

  Pendin described everything that Endric had seen. He had not really expected Pendin to recognize the Mage; they didn’t have enough interaction with the Magi for that. He had hoped for something more distinctive.

  “Anything else?”

  Pendin frowned again. “I don’t know. His gray cloak had some darker stitching along the collar. Some pattern to it I couldn’t make out.”

  Endric smiled. “That should help.”

  “Maybe you can ask Urik,” Pendin suggested.

  Endric groaned. “If Urik finds out, I’ll be on patrol for the month.”

  “You mean we will be on patrol for a month. I was supposed to keep you in line.”

  Endric’s face darkened. “Pendin…” He was unsure how to continue. “I’m sorry you were pulled into this because of me.”

  Pendin opened his mouth to say something but hesitated, finally shrugging. “If not patrol, then something else.” When he started to object, Pendin cut him off. “Sometimes you worry too much.”

  Endric frowned.

  Pendin laughed quietly. “I didn’t say it was often.” He glanced up at the cloudy sky. “So what do we do now?”

  “Satisfy our curiosity?”

  “How?”

  Endric shrugged. “Learn which Magi we saw. Then track him to the Denraen.”

  “You make it sound easy.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Pendin laughed. “I suppose I did gather critical information to make it a simple matter.”

  “Yeah. Because they all look alike.”

  Pendin shrugged. “Prove to me they don’t.”

  He paused a moment as a muted sound broke the silence. It was the muffled sound of boots echoing off the stones, as if dulled by the night. Fog filtered down to settle upon the city as it did many nights; often, it was as if the clouds simply descended toward the mountain city. The
heavy mist was thick and moist in the air, filling his nostrils with an earthy odor. The barracks were nearby but now obscured by the fog.

  A pair of Denraen approached on patrol and nodded as they emerged from the fog into the wan moonlight. Endric recognized one of them. Tallin was a good soldier and had been friendly in the past. Now he simply nodded. Perhaps Endric’s reputation had been sullied further. Or perhaps his father was right when he had said his protection would end. Either way, the Denraen patrol moved quickly down the street without pausing, disappearing back into the thickening fog.

  “That was strange.” Endric frowned at his friend.

  Pendin just shrugged. “Word is out. Most know we’re on patrol and what that means.”

  “How?” he asked, though he already knew. Little kept a soldier’s tongue from wagging about one of their own. Especially one they felt received favored treatment.

  “You couldn’t keep your assignment to Urik quiet, Endric.”

  He sniffed and shook his head. “No. I suppose not.” It didn’t explain how word had spread so quickly. “I don’t suppose Listain had anything to do with it?”

  Pendin shrugged again. “Don’t know.” He paused and then smiled. “Probably. That would be the fastest way to get the word out.”

  And probably at his father’s command. The Raen was connected better than any among the Denraen. And devious. They were the reasons he was so effective.

  “I hope I can find Urik tomorrow,” he said. “This patrol will make me crazy.”

  “Too late for that, I think,” Pendin said. “For me too. What was I thinking listening to you when you suggested following one of the Magi?”

  “Maybe you can get back to your assignment with Tildan soon. What were you doing there again?”

  Pendin glared at him briefly. “I was assisting him with his command.”

  “You were assisting him with his laundry,” Endric said and laughed. Before Pendin could say anything more, Endric grabbed his shoulder. “For your troubles tonight, let me buy the first round.”