“Ah, guess I shouldn’t jest when you’ve got so much to think about. How about we just enjoy the lovely day for a time?”
They did just that. The sun was warm on Nera’s skin, and the fresh air felt wonderful after the clammy chill of the Gray Lands. A bird of prey soared high overhead in search of its next meal.
She watched the soft, fluffy clouds drift across the sky. Oblith isn’t such a bad place… I wonder if Malek’s Tyndaria is like this? I wouldn’t mind traveling there with him if so.
“So what’s with you and Malek?” the half-elf asked after a time. “Seem awfully close. Comrades bonding in the heat of battle and all that?” He grinned knowingly.
What is with me and Malek? Surely, something was developing between them. She was attracted to the mage and enjoyed his company, especially flirting with him and ruffling his feathers. He seemed to reciprocate the feeling. And then they’d had a moment when they had shared a kiss before confronting the lich. “I’m trying to get that fool to pay up the clink he owes me,” she finally said, although her words seemed lame even to her own ears.
Arron snorted. “Trying to get in his robes, more like.”
Nera smacked him on the shoulder, though he just grinned infuriatingly at her. “What about you, pointy-ears? How in the Abyss did you get here? You never explained how you escaped from the Magehunters’ prison. The doppelgänger at least had a halfway believable story about jumping his guards and fleeing in a stolen uniform. I’d wager a pair of fat gold crowns it wasn’t nearly so easy, was it?”
Arron scratched at the growth of his week-old beard. “Indeed, it wasn’t quite so simple. I, uh…” His face went blank for a moment then filled with confusion. “I can’t seem… W-wait—I remember I had to visit Judith the old washerwoman because I was covered in shite! Aye, that’s it.” He looked relieved.
Nera rolled over onto her side, propping her head on her hand, and regarded him closely, a bit concerned. She’d never seen Arron at such a loss for words. What’s with him now? Has he taken one too many blows to the head and gotten his wits addled? “Why were you covered in shite? Did you not have a corner to squat in that cell?”
“Nay, it was from the, uh… sewers.” Confusion filled his green eyes, along with something else—perhaps a hint of worry.
“How’d you get to the sewers? Surely, you wouldn’t be the first to try that? No one I’ve ever heard of has escaped those bastards’ dungeon, let alone through the sewers.”
Arron was sweating now, face pale. “Gods, Nera, I don’t know what ails me! My thoughts are scrambled… ever since Lassiter probed my mind. He invaded it. I could feel the bastard scraping around in there like bony fingers, grasping and sifting through my memories. Perhaps that’s why I can’t remember?” He shuddered. “That was when he became me… I thought it was madness, but come to find out he really did.” He hung his head, obviously upset with himself. “I’m sorry—this is my fault. I should’ve been there for you.”
“Nay, stop berating yourself. Everything has worked out thus far… Well, except for Athyzon’s death,” she said with a sigh. “Perhaps Endira can help you sort through those thoughts of yours.”
“Do you think so?” His face brightened for a moment, but then he looked embarrassed. “Err, perhaps that isn’t such a fine idea… There’s things in there a wholesome lass like her shouldn’t see.”
Nera burst out laughing. She rolled onto her back and clutched her belly as the laughter let loose. Finding some humor after the bleakness of the past week felt refreshing. “You’re such a silly lout! I’m sure Endira, who’s an accomplished mind-bender and stood beside me battling the Pale Lord, could handle a few dirty secrets of my foolish, confused brother and his youthful indiscretions.”
Arron grinned. “Perhaps you’re right. They aren’t all exactly youthful indiscretions, just so you know. Most times, a maid doesn’t want to know my secrets until after I’ve gotten them good and drunk.”
“The only secret that type of ahem, maids, would be interested in is the depths of his coin purse.” Wyat walked up the small rise, a wide smile on his bearded face. “And Arron’s usually the one who’s good and drunk.”
Nera laughed even harder at Arron’s hurt look.
“Watch out, mate, you don’t want my sister finding out some of your indiscretions, do you? Like that time you woke up in Scurvy Gashes with your smallclothes atop your head—”
“Whoa, all right, enough!” Wyat’s face had turned beet red.
Nera couldn’t let that one lie. “The straight-laced and honorable commander of the Steel Rage visited Scurvy Gashes? I’m dying to hear more!”
Curvy Nasha’s, more commonly known as Scurvy Gashes, was the most notorious whorehouse in Nexus, best known for the spread of cock-rot, and a destination of last resort for those either desperately short of coin or too green or foolish to know better.
Wyat shot Arron a glare. “I think your brother misremembered such an incident. He mentioned he’s been having memory troubles of late. Normally, senility occurs in old men. I wouldn’t doubt a limp cock will soon follow.”
The three of them laughed, and Arron clutched his chest. “Ah, you wound me, mate! Brothers in arms aren’t supposed to take such shots at each other.”
“Aye, that they aren’t.” Wyat tried to look stern, but he was fighting a smile as he turned to look back over the camp. “Nera, you wanted to speak to the group? Well, we’re fixing to have a strategy meeting soon after the noon meal. You can speak before I invite my lieutenants in to join us.”
Nera could see smoke beginning to rise from the cook fire outside Wyat’s command tent, and her stomach grumbled in anticipation. “What’s there to strategize?”
He looked at her incredulously. “Why, the plan to save Nexus, of course! I need to make arrangements for Del to take over while I accompany you on your next phase of the quest. Do you not think it prudent to plan ahead?”
They don’t know my next destination yet. Somewhere during the festive reunion the past night, she’d neglected to mention that to Wyat and Arron. Balor’s balls—I hope Wyat hasn’t gotten his hopes up too much. I can’t ask them to join me in this madness with a clear conscience.
With a sigh, she got to her feet and brushed a couple ants off a leg of her breeches. “Aye, couldn’t hurt, I reckon. Never been much of a strategizer, though.” That’ll be quite the shock once I deliver them the news.
Arron snorted but made no move to follow. “Truer words have never been spoken. Have at it, you two.”
“And you’ve got something better to do, I suppose?” Nera asked.
“Reckon I’d take you up on your idea to speak with Endira,” he replied.
Wyat shot Nera a knowing look. “Saw the elvish lass head into the woods yonder a short time ago.” He pointed to the north, where the thick green canopy of the forest lay.
Arron hopped to his feet. “Well, enjoy your strategizing. I’ll enjoy the lovely day.” He started toward the woods.
“And the lovely company as well,” Wyat added.
They watched him go for a moment before Nera nudged Wyat in the ribs. When he looked down, she batted her eyes at him. “So what’s this you were about to confess about a trip to Curvy Nasha’s, luv?”
“Huh. You’ll not hear that misremembered tale from my lips, lass.” The two of them started down toward the camp together.
“But I can’t face the threat of death on the morrow with the tale of brave Commander Wyat and his conquest of Scurvy Gashes remaining untold.”
Wyat boomed laughter. “Aye, you’re persistent, I’ll give you that.” He gave her a playful shove. “You’ll have to save your coin to pay a priest to extract that tale from my shade once I’ve breathed my last.”
Despite the humorous intent, Nera couldn’t help but feel an inadvertent chill at his statement. I sure hope that’s not an omen.
***
Arron found Endira in a quiet glade along a game trail a short walk into the woods from
camp. He stopped at the edge of the trees, watching the elven maid for a moment. His breath caught at her beauty. She was sitting with legs crossed, apparently meditating, face tilted upward. The sunlight gleamed in her honey-colored hair and illuminated the fine network of tattoos traced across her face.
After a moment, her green eyes opened to regard Arron. She smiled gently, and he coughed in embarrassment.
Damn. Thought I was quiet enough she wouldn’t hear me. He couldn’t move quite as silently as Nera, but traveling the game trail, he had barely made a sound. Perhaps she senses me with her abilities.
“Greetings, Endira. I hope I’m not disturbing your peace.” He entered the glade and looked around. Soft grass and blue wildflowers made an inviting carpet that beckoned him to spend some time. A brilliant red butterfly fluttered around a clump of blossoms a few paces away.
“Not at all. I was just enjoying the serenity here. It reminds me a bit of home.” She gestured for Arron to join her.
“Aye, it’s quite a nice change from Nexus.” He sat down across from her in the grass. “Nera, ah… thought you might be able to give me some guidance,” he said lamely, captivated by her deep-green eyes.
“Truly? That is quite some praise coming from the Chosen.” She laughed softly, the sound bringing to mind the melodic tinkling of silver bells.
He grinned in response. “I’m sorry to trouble you. It’s nothing, really.”
“I’m happy to help any way I can.” She leaned forward slightly. “What guidance do you seek?”
“It’s a bit embarrassing, but my thoughts have been… scrambled of late. I lost memory of how I escaped from the Magehunters.” He went on to briefly recount his imprisonment and Lassiter violating his thoughts, and the blank spot up until he met Judith the washerwoman. He also spoke of his earlier conversation with Nera.
Endira looked thoughtful. “The mind protects itself from traumatic events. Perhaps that is what has happened, yet it is odd that you recall the other events of that time clearly. If you like, I can try to help you free those memories.”
Arron swallowed, suddenly nervous at the thought of a mind-bender entering his thoughts. “Aye, I’d owe you one if you could take a quick look and see what you can find.”
Endira scooted forward until she was facing him, their knees nearly touching. She reached out and took his hands in her small ones. “You owe me nothing, Arron. Close your eyes and think of a peaceful time in your life. Relax and focus your thoughts on that, letting your worries fall to the wayside.”
He closed his eyes, aware of the softness of her hands. It took him a few moments to relax, until he was able to recall a time when he and Nera were still children. They lay atop a tiled roof in Nexus on a particularly clear night, a silver crescent of moon just visible through the gloomy cloud of soot cloaking the city. The pair had been sharing sweet cakes poached from a street vendor, along with a warm jug of cider, and speculating on who their parents were. His sister looked to be about the age of twelve in human years. Her rust-colored eyes gleamed brightly like sparks in the twilight, and he noted a smear of dried honey on her chin from her cake.
The cool presence of Endira entered his mind, and then she appeared on the roof beside the two of them. Arron was an adult once again, but Nera was still a child. She was prattling on about a childhood fantasy of how her father was a noble lord in some faraway land, who would one day come looking for her.
Endira smiled at the young thief and turned to Arron. “Good. Now take me back to your escape.”
Nera and the rooftop faded away, and then Arron was back inside the dungeons. The rancid stench of the sewers wafted through the small grate in the privy hole in the floor, overwhelming the stink of his own unwashed body. The remnants of a dream were fresh in his mind—he had dreamt of flying before a powerful voice had spoken to him.
“Neratiri has a role to play in the salvation of Nexus and all the planes. Time wanes, and the window of opportunity is closing swiftly. Awaken now with this seed of knowledge and return to your duty.”
The voice reverberated with power in his head. He tried to follow the memory, but it dissolved around him, blurring and running together like a painting exposed to the rain.
He tried to grasp the watery images, but doing so was like trying to capture water in his hands. Small bits he tried to salvage, but the rest slipped away faster than he could reclaim it. Frustration crept in, and he was on the verge of giving up.
Endira’s calm voice surrounded him. “Concentrate, Arron. You’ve suppressed this memory. Let me guide you—what happened when you awoke from the dream?”
He was distantly aware of Endira squeezing his hands reassuringly. Her cool presence became a pressure in his mind like he’d once felt when he had swum too deep in the Molten Canal in Nexus, trying to reach the bottom. The pressure became painful for a moment, but then the scene snapped into sharp clarity, and he was back in the memory.
Arron stood up from the cold stone bench, the shackles clattering noisily. His arms stretched painfully behind him as he took a step forward, then another, testing the limits of the chains. His lean muscles knotted, and the thick iron bands dug painfully into his chafed wrists.
“Return to your duty,” the powerful voice from the dream commanded him.
An overwhelming need to escape the cell and find his charge compelled him to take action. He sensed the powerful magical wards infusing the door and walls of the Magehunter prison cell, yet the manacles holding him were simple iron.
“Cold iron alone cannot hold me.”
He focused his thoughts for a moment, and his arms below the elbow turned black as if dipped in pitch, the color bleeding down until it saturated his wrists and hands, then turning into shiny metallic scales on his arms. With a cry, he clenched his fists, and his arms swelled in size, expanding until the shackles were painfully tight against the scales. They expanded further, and the shackles shattered into pieces, falling noisily to the stone floor.
Arron flexed his arms, and they returned to normal. He stepped up to the door and laid the palms of his hands upon it. He concentrated, but the magic wards were too powerful to be dispelled or broken through. He could bludgeon it all day before breaking it, and the whole contingent of guards would be alerted in the process. He knew even he could not stand up to a whole garrison of Magehunters and, perhaps, even the Pale Lord’s Warders.
He thought for a moment. No, it is best I use stealth. Brute force will not suffice.
Searching around the cell, he examined the walls and floor. The stone of the prison had been built solid—he could find neither cracks nor gaps in the blocks. The wards bound them tightly. He wondered briefly how his cellmates, the rats, moved around. His eyes lit on the rear corner of the cell, and he realized how the rodents made their ingress and exit. A fouled iron grate covered the privy hole, a crude pipe a handbreadth across that, he surmised, led into the sewers. One of the bars had been bent by a former resident, yielding a gap large enough for a rodent to slip through.
Arron sighed loudly. “A crawl through shite, then. I know not where you are, Nera, but I shall find you. And you had best appreciate the depths of my loyalty to you, to crawl through the very shite of Nexus to seek you out.” He grinned to himself as he imagined her reaction.
He concentrated, again focusing on his inherent abilities, newly remembered after the dream. “I suppose a rat is best suited for such work.” His form blurred and shrank until the iron grate loomed large before him. With a squeak, he slipped down into the filth of the pipe and, he hoped, freedom.
Arron’s eyes popped open with a stunned gasp, the sunlight momentarily blinding him. Endira’s face filled his vision; she had a look of awe on her face and something else—fear perhaps?
He nervously released the elf’s hands, shaken and suddenly uncomfortable. “What happened there? W-what am I?”
Endira took a moment to respond. “I daresay you are much more than a mere half-elven orphan, Arron. I caught a glimps
e of a greater block in your mind. The gods have seen fit to conceal things from you, so it would seem. It would not be for me to second-guess them, even had I the power to see beyond the block.”
Arron’s disappointment must have been written clearly on his face.
Endira squeezed his hand comfortingly, her intense gaze holding his. “Nera and you are tied together, your lives and destinies. Trust that when the time is right, all will be revealed.”
He sighed and rubbed his head. “That brought more questions than answers, I’m afraid.”
Endira rose gracefully to her feet. “Such is the way of the gods, my friend. Come, we should return to camp for the noon meal.”
Arron rose and walked beside her along the game trail, mind reeling from the revelations and the myriad questions created thereby.
Chapter 5
Nera stepped up to the front of Wyat’s command tent, suddenly nervous about what she would ask her friends. Although the dark path she was destined to tread was one she would never wish upon her companions, she knew her chances of success would greatly increase with their help—not to mention that their presence would help steel her resolve. Were she to go it alone, she doubted she’d be able to maintain her courage.
She reflected on the goddess Sabyl’s words to her. “You have all the skills and abilities to succeed and are strongest when surrounded by your stalwart companions.”
I reckon she’s got the right of it.
She had an idea whom she could rely on to accompany her onward, but nobody had yet made any actual declaration to that effect.
The group scooted their chairs around until they were arranged in a crescent watching her. Their faces ranged from supportive to mystified.
Nera cleared her throat. “I’m not one for giving grand speeches to bolster your courage or any of that, so I’ll get right to the heart of it. I shall not ask anyone to accompany me, for I know this path I take is madness. Some of you know more of what has occurred than others, so now, I’d like to let everyone in on my… inner struggle—if you want to think of it as such.”
Dawnbringer Page 3
