“I’m telling you, with unicorn blood, you could brew a potion that would heal him completely.”
“We didn’t even know unicorns existed for sure until today, and you want to start killing them already?” Mirsa shrieked in frustration. “We don’t know what’s wrong with Kevon yet, Reko. Let’s not risk angering the elves yet.”
“They’ve not shown themselves since we landed, who knows if this is even the right island?”
“He’s awake.”
Kevon glanced at where the quiet third voice had come from, and Rhysabeth-Dane peeked around the edge of the shelter to look into his eyes. She wriggled her fingers at him in greeting, and smiled.
“I’ll return later,” Reko announced. “Tend to your companion.”
Mirsa rushed in, bringing along a waterskin that she held to Kevon’s lips. “Drink now, while you’re awake.”
“I’m fine, let me hold…” Clumsy fingers grasped at the skin, almost knocking it from Mirsa’s grasp. Fatigue at even the small action washed over him in waves.
“You’ve been asleep for four days. Let me do this.” Mirsa tucked Kevon’s arm back to his side, and poured mouthfuls of water into him.
After a few swallows, Kevon shook his head. “We’ve arrived, then?”
“This must be the place,” Mirsa nodded. “Alanna is scouting into the trees, but we’ve been here almost two days, with no sign of an elf.”
“How do you know?”
“Can’t you feel it?” Mirsa whispered, looking past him, toward the back of the shelter, away from the shore. “The Light… is different. Just like in the Hold. Solid, pure, restrained. I’m guessing we’re near the-”
“Awake?” Captain Yusa emerged from the other shelter and made his way over to the group. “Good! Perhaps we can start moving soon, and unload the cargo from my ship!”
“Unlikely,” Mirsa commented, lifting Kevon’s arm and releasing it to flop back down to his side. “He’ll need to regain his strength.”
“And here comes some help with that,” Yusa stopped short of the shelter’s entrance, looking off to the side.
Kevon closed his eyes and breathed while the others remained silent.
“What, is he dead?” Alanna griped.
A smile formed as Kevon opened his eyes and saw the assassin leaning around the corner of the shelter, three fat squirrels strung from her wrist. Colorful tubers poked out from the mouth of a sack in her other hand.
“Here…” Alanna snapped. “Take… care of this.” She shoved the sack and brace at Yusa. “Why don’t the rest of you go… somewhere?”
Mirsa stood and walked past Alanna, handing her the waterskin as she passed by. “It’s all right, Rhysabeth,” she chuckled, reaching back to take the scowling dwarf’s hand. “I’ll get the fire going, and then we can study some more.”
Alanna waited until the others were out of earshot before she approached Kevon. She sat by his side. “We need you at your best, and soon,” she whispered. “Not everyone here is what they appear to be.”
Heavy eyelids drooped, and Kevon’s mind fluttered.
“Here,” Alanna said, pressing something to his lips, a piece of dried leaf. He chewed a few times, and she gave him another mouthful of water from the skin.
“What…”
“Just wait,” she said, pressing her fingers to his lips. “Wait for it.”
Minutes passed. Kevon’s stomach trembled, and his cheeks grew hot. A prickling sensation began in his feet and hands, and the fog clouding his mind started to part.
“Medicine?” Kevon asked, sitting partway up.
“Not quite,” Alanna grimaced. “Mild poison, if taken in larger doses. Interesting at lower ones though.”
Kevon blinked, and shook his head, his mind beginning to race. “What were you saying? Not everyone…”
“The Mage, Reko?” Alanna harrumphed. “I thought he was odd on board the ship. But here?” She lowered her voice even more. “He doesn’t leave any footprints.”
Chapter 12
“What do you mean, you have to help me?” Bertus asked, his gaze moving from the King to his nephew, and back.
“Come!” Bargthar-Stoun shouted, dragging Bertus toward the steps that led up to his throne. “Mmm.” The ruler of the dwarves nodded his head and pointed to the last tapestry on the right hand side of the chamber.
Bertus walked toward the picture, details becoming clearer as he approached it.
An army of orcs populated the bottom third of the panel, twisted forms of many sizes, cruel weapons brandished as they marched upward. The middle third of the tapestry was blasted landscape, rocky terrain scattered with the bodies of orcs and dwarves. The top third was rank upon rank of Dwarven warriors. An impressive shield-wall snaked across the panel. The shield-bearers wielded warhammers, behind them, three lines of pikemen. Beyond that, crossbows and spears filled the hands of the Dwarven host as deep as the embroidered hanging stretched.
Bertus walked closer, catching a glimpse, a glint of gold, a splash of brightness in the otherwise dark work. When he’d come close enough to make out the details of the figure near the center of the Dwarven line, he gasped.
A man, nearly as broad as a dwarf, though head and shoulders above them all, stood in front of the defenders. A sword, gleaming with light, decorated with a red ribbon, was raised above his head, as if ready to strike down at the oncoming horde. From the palm of his other outstretched hand, streaks of white and gold radiated in all directions.
The figure’s features were too vague to matter, but Bertus did not need any more details. “Kevon?” he whispered.
* * *
“I still think we should notify the prince first,” Martin argued.
“This action is perhaps more urgent, and it would allow the message to be delivered by a trusted commander,” Bertus asserted. “That’ll give me time to seek out Kevon, and get him back here to cement our new relations with the dwarves.”
The third day after their arrival at the Dwarven Hold, Bertus and Martin stood over a map of the continent, still arguing over troop deployments.
“This commander, Carlo?” Martin asked, “Won’t think we’ve overstepped our bounds?”
“A company of battle-ready dwarves to help shore up the defenses on the frontier should ease his mind,” Bertus shrugged. “He’ll have to see things our way.”
“I still don’t see why you can’t come with us.”
“I’m going to be on a ship, hours out to sea, by the time you even speak to Carlo.” Bertus explained. “Kevon wants you safe, and you’ll have Carlo to escort you back to Navlia.” He pointed to the lines radiating out from the Hold on the map before them. “There is only one exit closer to Navlia than the frontier, and Carlo’s not there. It makes a difference.”
Martin nodded, glancing over the map once more. “These breaks in the line to the frontier, are they cause for concern?”
“Not with the troop sledge we’re running,” Britger-Stoun interjected. “It’ll be slower starting, without horses, but safer scraping across the breaks.”
“Has the advance team from Eastport returned?” Bertus asked the king’s nephew.
“I heard the drumming as I was leaving the chamber. They should be reporting soon.”
“Good, I’m anxious to get moving again.” He rested his hand on the hilt of the sword he’d been presented that morning, a replica of the blade he’d carried on his first visit to the Hold. Inches shorter and visibly thinner, the heavier gray metal the dwarves used balanced much the same as the other blade had in his grip.
“Two Stoneguard, four regulars, and the two of us?” Bertus asked Britger.
“Aye. The ship’s crew is being hired out. We’ve no knack fer it.”
“How many can you spare for the frontier?”
“Bargthar-Stoun has committed ten Stoneguard and fifty regulars te accompany yer friends. He’s preparing fer supply runs te follow them every few days, also.”
Bertus nodded. “T
hat should be enough for the short term. If the tapestry in your throne room holds true…”
“More are preparing,” Britger reassured him.
“The others are back from Eastport,” Alma said, poking her head through the doorway. “We’ve all got two changes of lighter clothing for the frontier, too.”
“They’ll have to do aboard the ship for me, then.” Bertus chuckled.
“Not going with us?”
“We’ll see each other again, at the Palace in Navlia. I’ll bring Kevon along, too.”
“Then I’ll see what we can get altered for you before you leave,” Alma ducked back out and was gone.
“If we are to need Kevon and as many troops as the tapestry suggests, neither one of our missions can fail.” Bertus leaned back over the map, his eyes darting east of the port city, along the path Kevon might have taken. “Where are you?”
Chapter 13
Kevon peered across the campfire, watching Reko through the pulsating lens that his perception had become. His skin crawled, another recent side-effect of the poison leaves he’d continued to take to remain awake and alert.
Reko sat in the same spot as he had all evening, on a driftwood log they’d been using as a bench. Mirsa sat on the other end of the log, Rhysabeth-Dane at her side, shuffling pages of parchment and comparing them to other books and notes.
“We’ll begin the trek inland tomorrow, then.” Yusa affirmed, glancing toward Kevon.
“I’m still weak, but well enough to hike.” He responded, his gaze remaining locked on the Mage across from him.
“Sure you wouldn’t like any?” Alanna waved a bowl of the stew toward Reko.
“Certain.” He sniffed. “I have my own rations back aboard the ship. And my own bed.” The Mage stood, and glanced around at the others. “Until the morning.” He raised his staff, and vanished.
“Powerful, to do that unaided,” Kevon commented, shifting his gaze to Mirsa.
“Concealed, as well,” she added. “I’ve seldom felt him work any of his magic.”
“Strange, but he’s been a loyal companion for years,” Yusa laughed. “Quite a few scrapes he’s gotten me out of, that’s for sure. Quite a few others I would swear he had a hand in.”
“We had a companion much like that,” Kevon closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Not a Mage, but…”
“An incredible ally.” Mirsa finished.
“I’m sorry I was never able to meet Waine,” Alanna offered. “It seems he changed everyone he met, for the better.” She stood and stalked around the fire to where Reko had been sitting. “One thing we may need to ask your friend, though,” she said, looking to Captain Yusa, “Is why he doesn’t leave footprints.”
“I suspected Illusion before, on the ship.” Kevon added. “A Sending between rooms when seconds of walking would do… was hardly practical. But what I suspected then makes no sense in this situation. We would see prints where we had not seen him, instead of none where he had been.”
“Or where he appeared to be?” Mirsa asked.
“That may well be,” Kevon nodded.” Projecting himself into our midst, while hiding his true self? Difficult, but not impossible.”
“But it is impossible,” Yusa fumed. “I’ve known him for years, before I got my ship, before I trained at…” he scratched his head. “No, it was after I abandoned my studies, and the Arts. A year or better after that. But still!”
“It seems your friend Reko would be the best to ask about this, the next time we see him,” Mirsa decided. “How long have you been watching him?”
“I always keep my eye on the nearest Mage,” Alanna smirked. “I noticed the footprints yesterday, but have felt uneasy around him since our first encounter.”
“I’ve heard some of the reasons why you have cause to distrust practitioners of the Arts, and understand,” Mirsa fidgeted, and looked up at Alanna. “I hope to be a part of the reason you can trust some of us again.”
“Tolerate? Perhaps.” Alanna answered, returning the Mage’s gaze. “But trust?”
“It’s not just Magi that Alanna mistrusts,” Kevon interjected. “But we have the furthest to go to regain any measure of that trust.”
“I trust we’ll all need a good night’s sleep under our belts to strike camp and head inland in the morning,” Yusa barked. He stood, glanced at the untouched sand in front of the log where Reko had sat, and shook his head. “Here’s to hoping we can get it.”
* * *
Kevon led the way, working ever inward and upward toward the shrouded center of the island. Stretches of clear path were punctuated by webs of vines and brush that the Warrior reluctantly hacked aside with his saber.
“We rest here,” he called to the others, staggering as he reached the third waterfall of the morning, the first that they could not step over and around. He reached out and filled his cupped hand in the thin cascade, sipping, then splashing the rest over his face to wash away the sweat and sap from the vines.
“Still no sign of Reko,” Yusa grumbled. “I don’t know if he’ll even be able to find us this far away from shore.
“Or if we’d want him to,” Alanna muttered as she entered the clearing, watching to make sure nothing was behind them.
Kevon sat by the falls, his back to the stone face that rose a good twenty feet above them. His breathing grew ragged and short.
“Here,” Alanna pushed a small flask at him, and he drank.
“What is…”
“It’s the only thing keeping him on his feet, Wizard,” Alanna snapped. “The faster we can get him to any kind of civilization, the better.”
Snatching the empty flask, Mirsa sniffed at it. “This is…”
“Bonesage tea,” Alanna said, eye locked on Mirsa. “It’s more than anyone else here has done for him.”
“We’re not trying to kill him!” Mirsa shouted, taking a step toward Alanna before seeing the bared dagger in the assassin’s hand.
“Enough!” Kevon straightened as the tea took effect, and stood up. “No one is trying to kill me. Did she force it down my throat?”
Mirsa looked at her feet and shuffled uncomfortably. “Did you at least brew it with milkweed sap?”
“I always carry fresh milkweed sap with me,” Alanna scoffed. “Not all of us have that luxury.”
“We’ll find something here!” Mirsa pleaded, scanning the surrounding vegetation. “I’ll brew up a potion…”
“I only have three leaves left,” Alanna sighed. “We’re almost out anyway.”
“We have to start right away!” Mirsa opened a bag and began pulling out smaller pouches.
“We need to move now,” Kevon said, stepping across the stream and hefting the saber. “We’ll figure out what we need to do when we stop for the night.”
* * *
Rhysabeth-Dane blotted a damp cloth against Kevon’s forehead, leaning in to see if she could make sense of the fevered murmurs that escaped his lips. She shrugged her shoulders at Mirsa, who’d looked up from the potion she was tending.
“Nothing yet?” the Mage asked.
The dwarf shook her head, and wrung the cloth out before dipping it in the bowl of cool water that sat beside his bedroll.
“How is he?” Alanna asked, ducking under the makeshift canopy.
“Do you have the things I asked you for?” Mirsa snapped.
“I’m not sure,” Alanna answered. “These plants are different than those on either continent we’ve been on. I’d only just begun to get familiar with the foliage when we left…”
“Give me what you do have, and bring some more water.” Mirsa glared a moment longer before returning to her work.
Alanna emptied a small sack onto the crate that they were using for a table, sections of vines, flowers in full bloom, and clusters of unopened buds spilling and sprawling across each other.
Rhysabeth-Dane folded the cloth and pressed it against Kevon’s forehead. She rummaged through her things, finding the book she wanted and returning to
the crate. She flipped through the text, whispering now and again in her native tongue, sniffing a blossom here, tasting a bit of sap there. She continued flipping through the book, and making notes of her own on loose parchment.
“What are you doing?” Mirsa scolded. “You don’t know what any of those are! You could…”
“Bonesage tea is a rare treat for my people,” Rhysabeth-Dane giggled. “As are many things that would kill you. Very few things that grow in the earth can harm us. I have already identified half of these, and have ideas about the rest.” She lifted a spiky, reddish leaf. “Bloodthistle, for example. Sharpens the mind more than Bonesage, while paralyzing the body.”
Mirsa cleaned the tools she had been using, and set them aside. She rinsed out a small stone bowl, and brought it over to the dwarf.
“If you were going to heal Kevon, with the supplies we have here, what would you use?” She held the bowl out to Rhysabeth-Dane.
The dwarf plucked three petals from one of the larger flowers, and half a dozen smaller buds from one of the clusters Alanna had retrieved. “These would ease his symptoms, but we would need much more than Alanna has gathered.”
“Perhaps not,” Mirsa picked up one of the smaller sections of vine that lay on the crate. “This is not poisonous?”
“Just bland,” Rhysabeth wrinkled her nose.
“That’s fine,” the Mage replied, whisking back over to the rock shelf at the back of the shelter where her laboratory was set up. She picked up a small granite pestle and crushed the flowers into a tacky paste that she scraped into a glass container with a wooden spatula. She upended the vine over the mixture, squeezing the sap from the top of the vine section to the bottom. Thick drops oozed from the cut end, globs of the greenish fluid spattering atop the peach colored paste. She poured fresh water from a skin up to the etched line in the glass, and stirred it until there were only a few clumps left. After placing the glass into a bronze holder, and igniting a small piece of wood beneath it with a wave of her hand, she returned to Kevon’s side.
Blademage Adept (The Blademage Saga Book 3) Page 6
