“Of course.” Gem’s face lit with a small, proud smile. “You are my new mistress, now. One never steals from one’s mistress.”
Loren scowled but reached out and tousled his hair. “I am no one’s mistress. I work alone, with neither partner nor lackey.”
“Oh, of course. And I will work alone with you.”
She grinned. Then the door opened, and Gem backed away as Jordel swept into the room.
One look at his face told Loren something was wrong. Jordel’s light blue eyes were clouded with concern and worry. Mayhap anger. He looked at Loren as if she were fresh to his eyes.
“What?” said Loren. “What is wrong?”
Jordel glanced at Gem. “Leave us.”
His voice radiated command. Even so, Gem drew up and placed his hands on his hips.
“I am no lackey of yours.” He thrust a finger at Loren. “I am a lackey of hers.”
“Gem, go.” Loren did not know what troubled Jordel but yearned to find out.
Gem looked at Loren a brief moment and left with a scowl. Jordel closed the door behind him and went to sit at Loren’s side, legs crossed over one another and hands upon his knees.
“Loren of the family Nelda,” he said, not unlike an intonation. “I must ask you something of the utmost importance—it is of the same importance that you answer me true.”
Loren shrank back a bit, looking at the man in confusion. “Jordel, I ask again—what is wrong?”
“Where did you get your dagger?”
Voice almost trembling, Loren said, “Why?”
“Do not hedge. Offer your answer.”
His hands balled into tight fists. For a moment, Loren feared him, seeing her father ready to strike.
Resolve fled her.
“I stole it,” she said. “When I left home. My parents held it close by for many years. I saw it once as a small child, and when I determined to run away decided to take it with me.”
Jordel’s hands relaxed. “You swear this is the truth? You did not take it from any other? From a traveler upon the road, or from a corpse?”
“No!” cried Loren, aghast. “I am no grave robber!”
Jordel’s head bowed. “That is good. That is most excellent, for us both. And at last, at long last, I truly understand what has brought you and me together so often in so short a span of time.”
“What? What is this thing? A few seem to recognize it. Always they fear it, and me as well. Why, Jordel?”
His eyes flashed. “Well they might. But the story is far too long to spill it now. We shall discuss it upon the road.”
“The road? What road?”
“You aim to leave the city, do you not? I will stay in your company. It is now more urgent than ever that I find Xain and keep the two of you together—and safe.”
“Safe? Safe from what?”
He leaned in close and answered with yet another question. “Loren, you asked once why constables would bow to me in the street. And when first we met, you did not remark upon my cloak except by a passing glance. Tell me: Does this mean aught to you?”
He reached for the clasp at his throat. Loren stared again at the strange symbol: three rods of silver wrapped by a band, mounted on silver wings, stretched wide.
“It has no meaning to me.”
“It is the symbol of the Mystics, who count me among their number. Now, do you understand any better?”
Loren blinked, shaking her head. “No. Why should I?”
“Stars and sky, from what rocky hole have you climbed, girl?” He shook his head and made to rise. “Never mind. ’Tis another tale for the road. One upon which I fear we will wander a while together, Loren of the family Nelda.”
“Hold, please.” Loren grabbed his wrist and kept him seated. His eyebrows drew together. “Some questions may wait for the road, but some may not. Alin told me the snake bite would not have killed me.”
“No,” said Jordel, and his voice grew soothing again. “In your raving, you told him the shape of the snake. A clouded viper, I believe he called it. Alin said its poison disorients greatly but does not kill.”
“Damaris told me I would die.”
“She lied,” said Jordel with a shrug.
“But why?”
“I do not know.”
Loren stared, but nothing else came. “That is all? You do not know?”
“What do you wish me to say, Loren? It seems Damaris did not wish you dead, or perhaps meant to kill you later. Now I fear she must wait a while.”
Loren blinked. “Why do you say that?”
Jordel cocked his head with a small smile. “Damaris has been run from town with the King’s law hard at her heels. It seems that even her powerful friends could not keep her safe from the constables once they found a mess of magestones scattered throughout her room.”
Loren sank back with relieved sigh. “That is one problem removed, then. And what of Auntie?”
Jordel shook his head. “I know not of whom you speak. But Loren, no matter what you wish to know, it must wait. The road is waiting, and I must prepare the carriage.”
Jordel left, and Gem returned with a bowl filled with broth. Loren did not recognize the taste but knew it as the best to ever pass her lips. Her hunger gurgled and growled. She drank every drop, and still she wanted more.
“You will be getting your wish,” she said. “We are leaving the city with Jordel.”
“That will get us through the gate, at least. Although you could probably flash your cloak at the guards and they would let you through. That is over here, by the way.”
Gem went to the end of her pallet, where her travel sack waited atop the folded-up cloak. Loren waved it off.
“I have no need of it now and doubt it would scare the guards any more than would your rag of a shirt.”
“Oh, but you are infamous now,” said Gem, sitting beside her again. “There are whispers in every tavern in the city about you. Of course, they do not know it is you. They say you knelt in your cell and prayed to the shadows to fill your cloak. Then you wrapped it around the jail door, and it burst open at your touch. They say you walked out with every guard cowering before you.”
“Who says this?”
“All with a tongue to wag.”
Loren cocked an eyebrow.
“Well, I have only heard one person tell the story, but that is no matter. It is all the same.”
“The tale could not lie farther from the truth,” Loren said. “I only—”
She paused, reluctant to discuss the finer details of her escape. Once considered, it did not make for a glamorous tale.
But Gem took her hesitation for something else and tapped the side of his nose. “Of course. I understand. Any great thief must have her secrets. But I wish I had known you were so mighty. Where was your magic when we fought Auntie?”
“It was not magic,” said Loren sullenly, taking another sip of her soup. “Just never you mind.”
Jordel returned before long to tell them the carriage was ready. Loren tried to find her feet but kept slipping back to the pallet and blankets. Gem helped her up, and Jordel fastened the cloak around her shoulders.
“Ensure you keep that hidden,” he said, pointing at the dagger on her hip. “Under no circumstances must you let anyone see it.”
Loren nodded, mute and suddenly afraid of the weapon at her waist, her hand tightening on its sheath.
She could scarcely walk, so Jordel scooped her back into his arms and took her to the carriage awaiting them behind the apothecary. They rode quickly through the streets, the driver pushing the horses to a trot whenever he could. Before long, they reached the south gate, where guards holding pikes stood blocking the way. Jordel emerged and showed them the symbol on his cloak. The pikes parted.
Loren knew she should stay hidden but could not resist peeking through a raised corner of the curtain as they passed through the city gate. She pressed her nose to the open window and deeply inhaled.
Free, clean air. L
oren had not realized how deeply she missed it, but it smelled like life after the clustered mess of the city.
“Upon the road once more,” she said. “I had forgotten how life felt without enemies teeming in every corner.”
“A relief to be sure,” said Jordel. “Now, where did you arrange to meet the wizard?”
“Xain said he would ride south until sundown. There he would wait by the road for our arrival. If they saw no sign by the third day, they would move on.”
“They?”
“He travels with our companion. A . . . a girl.”
Loren did not think Jordel would enjoy knowing Annis was Damaris’s daughter any more than Xain had.
Jordel leaned out the window and urged the driver on. The man put whip to hide, and soon they clipped along at a rapid pace. The carriage bounced and jostled constantly. She winced with every sudden movement.
Jordel looked at Loren with concern. “I could have him slow.”
“Do not,” she said through gritted teeth. “We must make haste. The day wears on.”
To distract herself, she had the carriage stop a few miles from Cabrus and took a seat beside the driver upon his bench. Looking at the open sky and the wide grasslands let Loren’s mind wander from the aches in her body, and would let Xain and Annis see them coming besides. But the bench had no cushions, and soon her rear grew sore from the jostling.
They did not stop for lunch, eating instead as they rolled on. The sun continued its long march across the sky and soon went to greet the western horizon.
Loren kept a careful eye on the spare woodlands springing up on either side. If she were Xain, she would have pulled off into hiding beside the road and waited. They would see her clearly atop the carriage so long as they held watch, and Loren knew Xain would do so. If he did not, Annis would insist upon it, and probably scream at the wizard until he relented.
As day faded, Loren’s search became frenetic. No one revealed themselves. She saw no other carriages.
The sun dipped below the horizon. The driver pulled off the road.
“Wait!” said Loren, as he climbed down from his seat. “We must ride on. They may still be ahead.”
Jordel emerged from the carriage. “We cannot push on past nightfall. The road is not safe, and the horses will have trouble finding their way besides. Xain is gone, Loren.”
His words hit her like a punch to the gut. She scrambled from the driver’s seat, her head swimming as she reached the ground. Almost she fell, but righted herself at the final moment.
“They would not have gone. Xain would not . . . ”
She could not finish the thought. For of course, Xain would have left. He had left her, once.
“Annis,” she said, grasping now. “Annis would not have let him.”
“Xain is a man grown, and a wizard besides,” said Jordel. “If he determined to leave, your friend Annis could not have stopped him. At most, she would have found herself abandoned, and we have not seen her either.”
“They could be just over the next hillock! We cannot stop now!” Loren hated the desperation creeping into her voice but could not stop it.
Gem emerged from the carriage and looked at her sadly. “They did not press their horses hard when they left, Loren. Like as not, we already passed the place where they stopped. They did not wait until the third day. If they waited at all.”
Loren stood rooted, unable to move or think. She could not fathom it. After all she had done to find him, the wizard had left her again. But Annis. The thought of Annis riding on without them struck her to the marrow.
She sagged to her knees, sitting cross-legged upon the ground. Mute, Loren could only watch as the driver hobbled the horses and built them a fire. Once it burned brightly, Jordel came to her.
“Come, Loren,” he said softly, his voice soothing as always. “Sit and eat. We must ride hard tomorrow if we hope to catch them.”
Loren blinked up at him. “Catch them?”
He gave a small smile. “Of course. You do not think I would give up so easily, do you? I have sought Xain from the High King’s Seat to Cabrus. I will not surrender now. Tomorrow we press on, and we will find them. You do not know why they left. Mayhap they were discovered, or hard pressed once they left the city. We will find them. Come.”
Still numb, Loren let him lead her to the fire. Its warmth bathed her face, and she felt herself grow fuzzy again. It burned like the snake’s poison, but gentler. Pleasant. She drew her arms around her knees and wrapped her cloak about her, reveling in the feeling while Gem, Jordel, and the driver made a meal of bread and salted meat.
“I trust Annis,” said Gem from nowhere. He glanced at Loren as she looked back in surprise. “They had reason if they left. She would not have let them go otherwise.”
“Mayhap you are right,” said Loren. “Mayhap.”
“I know I am,” said Gem, sniffing and sticking his nose in the air. “After all, I could have been a scholar.”
“So I have heard.”
A restlessness seized her, and she reached to her belt to draw forth the dagger. It glinted sharp in the moonlight as Loren drew it from her cloak, shocking her. The glimmer faded, and she noticed a speck of dirt upon the edge. She wiped the metal with her cloak. Looking up, she saw Jordel eyeing her from across the campfire.
She would expect a story from the Mystic, something to explain the blade and the hidden power it seemed to contain. But not tonight. Tonight, she found herself content to sit quiet under the stars in the warmth of a fire. Tonight, they had lost their friends, and tomorrow they would find them again.
Loren wondered how long the chase would run, and what would happen at its end. Again, she found herself cast out upon the world without plan or purpose beyond the one that drove her from the Birchwood. A shadow in the night, a ghostly whisper passing between the gates of a city. Guards staring at each other, stricken by a fear without name. Justice for the weak and terror to those who wielded their power with no remorse. Purpose seemed no nearer now than it ever had yet burned like fire inside her.
Gem sniffed again, took a final bite of meat, and stretched out upon the ground upon the blanket Jordel had given him. He rolled away from her, drawing the cloth over his head.
“Until the morrow, then. Good night, Loren.”
“Yes, a good night,” she said, murmuring as if to herself. “And Loren I am. For now.”
The dagger whispered back into its sheath, like the parting murmur of an old trusted friend.
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OTHER BOOKS BY GARRETT ROBINSON
FIND ALL OF GARRETT’S BOOKS AT:
GarrettBRobinson.com/Books
The Nightblade Epic
NIGHTBLADE
MYSTIC
DARKFIRE
A Witty, Piercing Look at Independent Art
REBEL YELL
The Realm Keepers Series—Epic Fantasy from Another World
VOLUME ONE: MIDREALM
VOLUME TWO: WYRMSPIRE
Try it for free!
REALM KEEPERS: EPISODE ONE
The Contemporary Sci-Fi Mystery
TOUCH: TRILOGY
The International Assassin Thriller
HIT GIRLS
The Hilariously Gory Horror Series
NON ZOMBIE
NON ZOMBIE II
The Ridiculously Fun Fairy Tale Adventure
THE NINJABREAD MAN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Garrett Robinson was born and raised in Los Angeles. The son of an author/painter father and a violinist/singer mother, no one was surprised when he grew up to be an artist.
After blooding himself in the independent film industry, he self-published his first book in 2012 and swiftly followed it with a stream of others, publishing more than two million words by 2014. Within months he topped numerous Amazon bestseller lists. Now he spends his time writing books and directing films.
Nightblade: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 1) Page 25
