Nightborn

by Anders, Lou

  The pattern for their play continued much the same. Tanthal always seemed to be playing for spite, with Nesstra suffering the brunt of his attacks. Mr. Oak played skillfully, neither taking unnecessary risks nor inflicting unnecessary pain, but not afraid to do either when it served his goal. Karn preferred to bring more pieces into play, working them as a team and taking only calculated risks. He landed on other players when they stood before him and his path, but he didn’t deviate from his course to do so. He found that the dice introduced a degree of uncertainty that his favorite game, Thrones and Bones, didn’t have. He preferred a game that was purely strategic, but the presence of four players instead of two did add an interesting dimension.

  “Charioteers…it seems to encourage cooperation and backstabbing both,” he observed.

  “You’re picking this up rather fast,” Mr. Oak commented with grudging admiration.

  “Thank you. Games fascinate me.” He glanced around. “As do other places.”

  “There is an old saying,” said Mr. Oak. “ ‘If you are in Gordion, live in the Gordion way; if you are elsewhere, live as they do there.’ ”

  “That’s an enlightened philosophy,” said Nesstra, “realizing other peoples have something to teach you.”

  “It’s only enlightened when you’re from a pigsty,” said Tanthal. “When you are from a city as grand as Deep Shadow, you know your own ways are superior.”

  “And yet here you are,” Karn said.

  “And here you are as well. Errand boy for a dragon.”

  “A hungry dragon. You should remember that.”

  “Mmm. Perhaps. But he is a long way away.”

  Karn glanced at the two wood elves. Who knew what they were making of this conversation. Nesstra smiled shyly at him. Mr. Oak studied him with calculating eyes.

  As the game progressed, Tanthal kept his lead. Karn thought the dark elf was surviving on luck with the dice more than skill or cunning.

  Nesstra had a chance to send him back, but she didn’t take it. Karn wondered why. With Nesstra’s inaction, Tanthal was the first to cross the finish line. But the dark elf hadn’t brought any more pieces into play, and now had a long lap full of opponents to negotiate if he was to get a second piece through as required for a win. Unfortunately, he continued to roll well, and his second piece closed the distance in no time.

  Karn found himself with a chance at stopping Tanthal, but only if he spent his whole allotment on a move that would see him colliding with Nesstra. He hoped she’d understand. He met her eye, and she gave a hint of a nod. Was it permission? He got the sense Nesstra wanted Tanthal beaten as badly as he did. Karn landed on her piece, sending her back, but this put him near enough to Tanthal to overtake him on his next turn.

  After that, the dark elf was angry. Victory was likely out of his reach, so when he brought his pieces back into play, he used them vindictively. It didn’t make him any friends. Karn, Nesstra, and Mr. Oak all ganged up on Tanthal at every opportunity. Tanthal swore vehemently as he was sent back to the start again.

  “Good thing you have all those allies.” Karn chuckled.

  Finally, Karn’s and Nesstra’s second pieces both had a clear shot at the finish line. Nesstra was in the lead, and only Karn could stop her.

  He rolled and saw that his result would let him land on her perfectly.

  Karn’s hand poised above his playing piece. Then he saw the disappointment written on her golden features. Beating Tanthal meant more to her than it did to him. Why that was, he didn’t know.

  Karn split his move between two pieces, deliberately leaving Nesstra untouched. She rolled and won on her next turn. She came in first, and he came in second.

  Her eyes said “thank you,” though Tanthal’s said something very different. What Mr. Oak’s eyes communicated as they studied Karn, he couldn’t tell. Mr. Oak came in third. Disgusted, Tanthal didn’t have the grace to play his final moves. They all sat back from the table, eyeing each other.

  “You had a chance to win and didn’t take it?” said Mr. Oak.

  “Idiotic,” Tanthal sneered.

  “You’re the expert on that, then, are you?” Nesstra shot back.

  “The move was stupid,” Tanthal said.

  “Refreshingly uncommon,” Mr. Oak corrected. “Whether it’s due to idiocy or some other motive remains to be seen.”

  “Well, I’ve had enough of this,” said Tanthal. He stood up, making a show of dusting his clothing. “Enjoy your little victories. The bigger ones will elude you.” With that, the dark elf strode from the room. Karn turned to Mr. Oak.

  “How about our bet? Are you going to tell me how I can find this Greenroot guy?”

  Mr. Oak was silent so long Karn thought he might not answer. Then he took a piece of parchment from his pocket and wrote something on it with a quill pen. He pushed it across the table at Karn but didn’t take his hand off it.

  “What’s that?” Karn asked.

  “Answers,” said the elf. “But before you hear them, decide for yourself whether you really want to ask the question.”

  —

  Karn stood in the street outside the Windy Willows. He looked at the moons overhead. The Nelenians didn’t call the larger one Manna’s moon, as his own people did. But the satellite looked the same here as it did in Norrøngard. Everything else, though…

  The sound of a scuffle pulled Karn’s attention from the sky. He saw the golden-skinned she-elf. She was being accosted by two of the strange rodent-like beings he’d first seen at the inn. One looked like a large mouse. The other was more ratlike. Both had daggers out and were menacing Nesstra.

  Whitestorm was in his hand instantly. Karn dove at the nearest of the two, the mousy one. His father’s blade whipped across the mouse’s face, nicking the creature’s nose. It squeaked—squeaked!—and threw up a hand to cover its injury. But then its beady eyes narrowed. The rat-thing broke off from Nesstra and drew a second long knife from its belt. Karn wished he had a shield.

  “Stay behind me,” he said over his shoulder to Nesstra. He swung Whitestorm in a broad arc, forcing both assailants to step away. Whitestorm, always light for its size, practically glided through the air now, the benefit of the dragon touch. But the Norrønir had a saying, “The weapon is only as good as its wielder.”

  Karn wished he had a giant girl beside him. Thianna would be using one of these creatures for a Knattleikr ball right about now. Instead he had to defend himself alone while protecting a tiny elf.

  The rat dove in on Karn’s left, striking with both of its daggers at once. Karn brought Whitestorm around in a strong sweep, batting the weapons aside. But now his right flank was open, and the mouse leapt in. A knife bit into his right leg before he could block it.

  Ignoring the sudden pain, Karn brought the pommel of Whitestorm across with two hands. He drove it hard into the mouse’s injured nose. The creature shrieked and toppled back. But neither rodent was retreating far. Karn knew then that there would be no walking away from this fight.

  Both rodents readjusted their grip on their weapons. The rat smiled evilly. Karn widened his stance and held Whitestorm out before him. Ready as he’d ever be. This was it.

  “You might want to run,” he said over his shoulder to Nesstra.

  “Then again,” the elf replied, “I might not.”

  Slender darts flew on either side of Karn’s ears. Each struck home, one in the rodent’s snout, the other in the mouse’s neck. The rat dropped first.

  “Unfair,” the mouse exclaimed, then it too fell to the ground.

  Karn turned to Nesstra.

  “A sleeping potion,” she said, chin held high. “They’ll only be out for a few minutes.”

  “What are they?”

  “Cutpurses, obviously.”

  “No, I mean what are they?”

  “Oh. Murids. Rodent people. A mousekin and a ratkin.” She looked at Karn’s leg. “But you’re wounded!”

  Karn looked down to where blood was flowing thro
ugh his torn pants.

  “We need to see to that,” Nesstra said. She glanced at the Willows and shook her head. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Home,” laughed Karn. “That may be farther than you want to go. But I’m staying at Fosco’s Folly.”

  Nesstra slid Karn’s arm over her slim shoulders. His leg didn’t seem that bad, and he felt silly putting his weight on such a slender girl, but the wood elf was surprisingly strong.

  “You don’t need to—”

  “Shh,” she said. “I owe you anyway, for rushing to my rescue.”

  “Doesn’t look like you needed rescuing.”

  “I usually wear my darts on my thigh, but for the Willows I had them in my satchel. I couldn’t get them out in time when they accosted me. But you kept them busy long enough.”

  “Sleeping potion!” said Karn, amazed. “How do you know how to mix those?”

  “I’m a wood elf,” said Nesstra. “We’re good with herbs. Anyway, thank you for letting me be the one to win. The game, I mean.”

  “You seemed to need it. At least you were taking the worst of that dark elf’s abuse. I figured it would sting him the most for you to be the one to take first place.”

  “Tanthal seems to know you.”

  “Not really. We’re just getting acquainted.”

  “Do you always make enemies this fast?”

  Karn shrugged.

  “Better to know who they are upfront, believe me.” Karn fell silent, thinking about his uncle Ori, who had betrayed him and his father both. Nesstra was quiet too. She saw him watching her.

  “I know something of the cruelty of dark elves,” she said.

  —

  Fosco hurried over when he saw Karn hobbling through the door of his inn. Together, he and Nesstra sat the Norrønur boy down in a chair and propped his leg up on another. The golden-skinned elf tore the pant leg away.

  “Hey, that’s my only pair,” objected Karn.

  “Quiet,” she said, prodding at the cut. “You’re lucky; the wound’s not deep.”

  Nesstra opened her satchel and rummaged about in its contents, bringing out a small glass vial.

  “This is going to sting, but it will prevent infection.” Karn gritted his teeth while she applied an ointment. Then she pulled out a needle and thread. “And this will probably hurt worse.”

  “Well, you seem to be in good hands,” said Fosco, blanching at the wound. He patted Karn on the shoulder and wandered off to see to his other customers.

  “So what brings you to Castlebriar?” asked Nesstra. Karn’s face must have looked suspicious, because she added, “To take your mind off it.” She held a needle up.

  “Ah,” he said. “I’ve come here looking for a friend.” Karn grunted as Nesstra slid the needle through his lacerated skin.

  “Go on,” she said, pulling the thread tight.

  “A good friend.” Grunt. “From Ymiria.” Nesstra raised an eyebrow. “She’s a half giant.” Grunt. “Her father’s giant. Her mother human.” Grunt. “She disappeared a few days ago.”

  “And you’ve come all this way to find her? She must be a good friend.”

  “Wouldn’t you do the same for your friends?”

  “I don’t know,” said the elf sadly. She pulled the last of the thread tight and bit it off with her neat little teeth. “But that’s it for the leg. It should be fine, and my ointment will see it healed in no time.”

  “What about you?” said Karn. “Where did you say you were from?” Something strange flitted across Nesstra’s face. “Fairshadow, wasn’t it? Nesstra Sunbottom of Fairshadow.”

  “What a good memory you have, Karn of Norrøngard.” She paused from repacking her medical supplies. “I’ve lived in the ’shadow my whole life. I wanted to see more of the world. Find a way to make my family proud.”

  “I understand that,” said Karn. “Where are you staying?”

  “I was looking to stay at the Willows. But I could see about a room here. That is, if you don’t mind the company.”

  “No,” he said, glad to have a friend at last in a strange city. Someone else for whom Castlebriar was also a new experience would be welcome. He started to stand.

  “Sit,” she ordered. Nesstra walked to a nearby table, where Karn saw another Charioteers set. The elf picked it up and carried it back to where he sat. “While you rest your leg, we’ll play another game. Just the two of us. And this time, you don’t let me win. We need to find out which of us is really better.”

  Karn smiled.

  “You’re a gamer too?”

  “Yes,” she said, scooping up the dice. “While we play, you can tell me all about this Thianna and how we’re going to find her.”

  “We?”

  “Of course,” said Nesstra. “You came to my rescue, after all. Let me help you complete your quest. Besides, I’ve no doubt you are going to discover what you came here for, and I want to make sure I’m right beside you when you do.”

  —

  “You didn’t tell me the little one had a sting.”

  The ratkin rubbed at his snout where the dart had struck. He seemed to be suffering an allergic reaction to the sleeping potion, causing his nose to swell up red and puffy. It looked like a rotting strawberry. His companion, the mousekin, scratched at his neck above the collar of his doublet.

  “Two stings,” the mouse said.

  “You were warned she was armed,” said Tanthal. “If you can’t handle a little girl’s claws, you should be embarrassed for yourself, not angry with me.” They spoke amid the Castlebriar slums, where conversations between unsavory types wouldn’t draw undue attention. Even so, locals gave them a wide berth.

  “Armed, yes,” said the ratkin. “Poisonous, no.”

  “You were paid,” replied the dark elf.

  “And you got exactly what you wanted for your coin. But we got more than we bargained for.”

  “That’s the nature of any contract,” said Tanthal. “You make the best deal you can, and you hope for a favorable outcome.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe the terms of the agreement weren’t made clear enough for our liking,” said the ratkin. “What we’re saying is that maybe we should be compensated for our extra trouble.”

  “Lots of trouble,” the mouse said.

  “You want more money?”

  The rodents nodded.

  Tanthal sighed. “I’m disappointed. I truly am.” He gestured to Velsa, who stood with another dark elf. She stepped forward, and the rodents saw that she was carrying a small wooden chest. Velsa placed the chest on the ground before the murids.

  “That’s it, then?” said the ratkin greedily. “Our extra compensation?”

  “Extra compensation,” repeated the mouse.

  “It’s everything you deserve,” said Tanthal.

  The rodents bent eagerly over the chest. The latch was complicated and didn’t unfasten quickly.

  “Pleasure doing business with you,” said the ratkin.

  “Pleasure,” repeated the mouse, rubbing his paws.

  “No, no,” replied Tanthal as the dark elves withdrew. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  The ratkin frowned at this, but he had the chest unlatched. He flipped the lid open. A cloud of noxious purple smoke billowed from the otherwise empty chest.

  The rodents’ screams were loud, but they didn’t last very long.

  “Where do we start?”

  Nesstra was waiting for Karn in the common room of Fosco’s Folly when he came down, bright and early in the morning. He noticed that she was wearing her darts on a sheath on her left thigh.

  “Not taking any more chances,” she explained.

  Together, they walked out into the Castlebriar streets.

  “It’s really beautiful today,” Karn remarked, looking at the bright blue sky.

  “Spring,” said Fosco, who was sweeping the ground before his front door.

  “I’ve heard of it,” said Karn, half joking.

  “You don’t have spring
where you’re from?”

  “If we do, we don’t call it that. But we really only have two seasons: cold and colder.”

  The gnome grunted.

  “So what do we know?” asked Nesstra, once they were out of earshot. “Let’s go over your riddle: ‘First to a Castle in the Briars, Where ends all of life’s desires. Over Oak and under Corn, There to seek the soundless Horn.’ ”

  “We only really know that we’re in the right city,” said Karn. “So I guess we start with the second line.”

  They spent the day looking for the end of life’s desires. This meant a lot of time in the markets, trying to find the things that they themselves desired or things that they imagined whoever wrote the riddle might have desired. They looked at colored fabrics, fancy jewelry, fragrant perfume, well-crafted swords, and, in Karn’s case especially, a large variety of game boards and playing pieces. They surveyed the multitude of rich foods and exotic spices that came into the Castlebriar markets from all over the continent. None of them quite seemed to fit the bill. Eventually Karn declared it was time to leave the markets and look elsewhere.

  They stood outside wealthy homes, wondering what it would be like to live inside. Karn could see how a good many people—certainly the folks in the Castlebriar slums—would consider such a dwelling to be the absolute completion of their desires. In the religious district, they talked to a lonely monk from a faraway land who spoke of the necessity of separating oneself from all forms of desire and earthly attachment, but he didn’t know anything about magical horns or being over oak or under corn, and he wasn’t very helpful. Karn paused at a statue to Cybelle and wondered again at her presence in Thianna’s room. He didn’t know why an ancient Gordion goddess had interested a frost giantess. He sighed.

  “Don’t worry,” said Nesstra. “I’m sure you’ll find the horn.”

  “I’m not looking for the horn,” Karn snapped. “I’m looking for Thianna.”

  “I’m sorry,” said the wood elf. “I only meant that as Thianna was looking for it, we’d find her and it together. That’s why we’re following the clues she followed.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean to snap. I’m just worried.”

  Nesstra laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “Tell me about her.”