Secrets of the Stonechaser (The Law of Eight Book 1)

by Nicholas Andrews

  Chapter Fifteen

  THAT EVENING, NERRIS and Len-Ahl waited while Dist and Jhareth packed for their trip. Nerris had been traveling light, with a satchel, his hunting bow, a quiver, and Noruken at his back, looped through his belt. Len-Ahl still held his knife, which she used to whittle away at her only possession, the slender piece of wood she was fashioning into a fipple flute.

  They watched as Jhareth tucked away several knives of various sizes onto his person. His own satchel, containing maps and tools for various purposes, was secured to one of the horses Sir Enric had provided for them. Meanwhile, Dist shook out a blanket on the ground outside his house, where he took stock of his many tools. He laid out quivers full of different-sized arrows, and bows of varying length. Nerris was used to it all, but Len-Ahl watched in wide eyed astonishment.

  “Blue winds, what do you need all those for?” she asked.

  “The longer the bow, the greater the range,” Dist explained. “But as enemies get closer and I want to maintain accuracy, I switch to a shorter one.”

  “What happens when you run out of arrows?”

  Dist shrugged. “I never have.”

  “Show her the Big Black,” Nerris said.

  Dist nodded and disappeared into his house. In a few moments, he emerged with a large crossbow, painted jet black. However, there was no windlass and it had a tiller on the end, and was thrice-stringed. A wooden box adorned the top. Dist pulled a lever on the underside and the strings drew back automatically.

  “Properly, it’s what is known as a repeating crossbow,” Dist said, “but I’ve made a few special modifications. This pump on the bottom means I don’t have to secure the drawstring myself. If this box were loaded, it would drop three bolts into the bow. The triple strings assure I can loose three times before I need to reload. It’s also fashioned with castle forged steel. Should an enemy close the distance, I have a striking weapon as well.” He lifted the crossbow to show her the spike protruding from the bottom.

  “Dist was never much for books and literature, but he’s quite the marvel of engineering,” Nerris said.

  Len-Ahl shook her head. “Bigger and better instruments for killing. Why is that always the way of it?”

  Dist squeezed the firing lever on the Big Black and the strings snapped back into place, one after another. “If we don’t think of them, someone else will. It’s better to stay one step ahead of those who would do you harm.”

  “Some believe the way to win your enemy’s heart is through love and understanding,” Len-Ahl said.

  Dist begrudged her a nod. “Usually, they’re the first to die in battle.”

  Soon, Dist and Jhareth were ready to leave, though Dist’s chestnut mare seemed uncomfortable with so many bows being strapped to her saddle. When he calmed her down, Nerris glanced off to the northeast and met his friends’ gazes. Dist and Jhareth nodded, and they set off on foot, heading toward the woods.

  “What is it?” Len-Ahl called after them.

  “One thing left to do before we leave home again,” Jhareth said. “Come along if you like.”

  It was nearing sunset, and the Thrillseekers wound their way through the trees and brush, with Len-Ahl following behind. When the village was out of sight, they climbed up a hill and came to a stop in front of an old rose tree. It was in full bloom, covered in many white flowers. Nerris knelt in front of it and placed his hands together.

  “What is he doing?” he heard Len-Ahl ask Jhareth.

  “This is where Nerris’s mother and father are buried,” he told her in a hushed voice. “Derrin Palada died before he was born, and was laid to rest here. Years later, Rienna was placed beside him.” He sighed. “I never had a home in Haladast, as such. I wandered much as a child, but when I came back to the village I was always welcome to stay with Nerris and Rienna. She was such a caring woman. In my experience, maybe one in ten thousand is like her.”

  After a few moments, Nerris finished his silent respects and strode back down the hill without a word. “Nerris?” Len-Ahl called out to him.

  “Best not disturb him,” Dist said. “He’s always moody when he thinks about his parents, so we leave him alone.”

  It was not the deaths which perturbed Nerris’s mind. He had never known his father and carried around the fact that he never would for his entire life. His mother’s death had been hard at the time. He was stuck in that awkward place between boy and man, with no one except his friends to comfort him. Rienna’s death had been the catalyst which set him on the path that led to Gauntlet, the Thrillseekers, the Faernan Court, Miagama, Yagolhan, and back here again. Jhareth never had any family, and Dist was at continuous odds with his in those days, as adolescents are wont to be. Nerris had been the only holdout.

  It was the thought of what might have been which drove Nerris into deep thought. What might have been had his father survived, and his mother? What life may have been like had he grown up at Brookbel, son of Lord Derrin Palada, likely betrothed to a highborn girl, destined to rule this parcel of land and perpetuate his own line. Or even had it just been his mother. If Nerris had spent his whole life in Haladast, learning a trade, or to tend garden and hunt in order to sustain him, would he have known the extreme elations, pains, sorrows, and joys which awaited him in the wide world outside the embracing canopies of the Great Oak Forest?

  His friends gave him a respectful distance, for which he was grateful. His own thoughts did not disturb him too much as he slept that night, and he woke refreshed and ready to set out. Since Len-Ahl had never ridden a horse before, she shared with Nerris. He had been a bit worried about how she would react to the beast, but after a reassuring pat on the snout, the young rouncey took to her at once and accepted her lithe form without any protest. Nerris felt no anxiety in Len-Ahl when she placed her hands around his waist, but a calmness, which did much to soothe him.

  After saying their farewells to Melantha, Dist’s folks, and the other villagers, their party set out at a brisk canter up a path leading back to the highroad which connected Brookbel and Faerlin. Sir Enric led the way, his proud chin raised at the world. He not only brought Jhareth Kanave back to Faerlin, but the rest of the Thrillseekers, and when word got out the young captain would find himself in the midst of all the fervor that went with it.

  Once they found the road, there was room to spread out a bit, and Nerris reined in his mount beside Jhareth’s. “So how did this whole tiff between you and the king begin?” he asked his wiry friend.

  Jhareth smirked. “It’s a thrilling tale.”

  “In your words, I’m sure it will be.”

  “In truth, I’ve been after the Stonechaser Prophecy for some time,” Jhareth said. “All the translated versions led to dead ends, so I thought why not go after the original? If I could find someone to make a direct translation, it might avail me better. It took some doing, but I finally tracked it down to be in the possession of House Klaidon. But King Maerlos was not about to let me take it across the continent looking for someone who would recognize the dialect.”

  Dist’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do?”

  “The only way I was going to get it was if it was granted to me,” Jhareth said. “I happened to save the life of the king’s niece, and when he granted me a boon, I asked for the Prophecy. King Maerlos stated his family was sworn long ago to hold the Prophecy in perpetuity and refused. I confess to losing my temper a bit and swiped it. Don’t worry, we’ll retrieve it before heading back to Faerlin Castle.”

  “You, lose your head?” Dist asked. “You must be getting old, Jhareth.”

  Jhareth shrugged. “Perhaps. I had been after the Stonechaser Prophecy ever since we separated, and I was inches from securing it. But unlike back in the day, I didn’t have you two to hold me in check.”

  “Wait, you saved the life of his Majesty’s niece?” Nerris asked. “Do tell, Jhareth. You can’t throw that out there and not elaborate.”

  “I was staying at court when I was invited to go out riding with th
e king’s brother and his family,” Jhareth said. “One thing led to another and Lady Nolota’s horse spooked, and went out of control. She was heading straight for the cliffs, but I was fortunately able to reach her in time and subdue her mount. A stroke of luck which put me over the top with the king.”

  Nerris rolled his eyes. In his experience, Jhareth never believed in trusting to luck. He was not about to take that story at face value, but did not want to say anything in front of their honor guard. Dist didn’t look like he believed him either, but one thing which had not wavered after all these years was their trust in him. However devious Jhareth could be, he would never intentionally lead them or himself down a bad path.

  Jhareth retold his tale that night after they made camp for the benefit of Sir Enric and his men. The story had grown to involve a poisonous snake, a gang of cutthroats, and Lady Nolota hanging off the edge of the cliff, with only Jhareth brave enough to climb down and lift her to safety. These embellishments enthralled his audience, who hooted and applauded as they ate their supper and cleaned their armor by the campfire.

  As the tale ended, Nerris noticed Len-Ahl slip off into the trees. He assumed she needed to attend to private female business, but when she didn’t return he grew curious. Excusing himself, he followed her steps into the forest. Once out of earshot of the camp, he spotted a small glade ahead, lit by moonlight. Len-Ahl stood in the center, and she was not alone. A small girl, no more than eleven or twelve, with flowing dark hair and an earth brown dress, stood with her. They talked in hushed voices in a dialect which sounded like it was being sung rather than spoken.

  They turned to face him as they entered the glade, and Len-Ahl smiled. The girl averted her gaze and skipped off a few feet, where she knelt to examine a flower. “What’s going on?” Nerris said.

  “We will be leaving the forest soon,” Len-Ahl said. “I came to say farewell.”

  “Do you know this girl?” he asked.

  “You can see her?”

  “Of course I can see her,” Nerris said. “She’s right there. Who is she? Where are her parents?”

  “Oh, she has no name,” Len-Ahl said. “Most men cannot behold her, for they no longer believe in the spirits around them. Some say with their self-built cities and boundaries, they no longer have the ability to see beyond their own world. Tell me, Nerris, do you believe?”

  “You mean, like magic?” he asked. “For the most part. I mean, I’ve seen way too much in my life to not believe there are other forces at work aside from what we see. But you’re asking me about spirits and gods?”

  “Yes.” Len-Ahl glanced at the girl. “And faeries.”

  “You’re telling me this girl is—”

  “A maiden of the woods,” she said. “All forests have them. A spirit that watches over, nourishes, protects all who dwell within. All who believe.”

  “Like in that song?” Nerris asked.

  “Just like the song.”

  The girl turned to Nerris and glanced up at him with big doe eyes. He gave her a closer look now, and saw the dress she wore was not spun from wool or cloth, but made from the leaves of the trees themselves. Her hair, while lustrous, also contained twigs and dirt.

  “It is all right,” Len-Ahl told the shy girl. “Nerris is a friend.”

  The girl held out a tentative hand, and Nerris took it. He helped her to her feet, and she smiled at him. The girl giggled and fled the glade, disappearing into trees and darkness. Out of the corner of his eyes, Nerris sensed rapid movement all around them. Try as he might, he could not see who was there, but could hear rustling, laughing, singing. He had experienced a similar sensation once before: that night in Yahd’s Walk, when something had run off the cultists of the Tattered Man. The same serene feeling overcame him, and instead of looking for the cause of the ruckus, he gazed into Len-Ahl’s eyes and smiled.

  Len-Ahl nodded. “Let us return to our companions,” she said. “You have been blessed with a gift this night, Nerris.”

  Coming upon the campfire, the horses and tents seemed a bit mundane compared to what he had just left behind. But Nerris tried to keep that serene feeling with him as long as possible. Len-Ahl was right; he had been given a gift. He realized whatever they had heard, whether spirits or faery folk, were always watching. There were forces which could combat the darkness within and without.

  As they broke camp in the morning, Nerris related the events of the previous night to his friends. “Faeries. Really?” Jhareth asked with a smirk.

  “We’ve been up and down the roads together and you’ve both seen the same things I’ve seen,” Nerris said. “We’ve encountered sorcery and magic and odd beasts before. Are faeries so unbelievable?”

  “I suppose not,” Dist said. “We just find it a little hard to believe you and Len-Ahl sneaked off to discuss faeries in the dark for so long.”

  “We were only gone a few minutes,” Nerris said.

  “Nerris, you were gone an hour,” Jhareth said.

  “Impossible,” Nerris said. “There’s no chance it was that long. Anyhow, exactly what do you think my relationship with Len-Ahl is?”

  Dist shrugged. “You tell us.”

  “It’s not like you’re thinking.”

  “This girl has decided to leave the safety of the home she’s known all her life to follow you around like a little puppy,” Jhareth said. “No offense to Len-Ahl. She’s a sweet one, and lovely too. But that speaks of more than friendship to me. So tell me, what are we supposed to think?”

  Nerris slung his bedroll over his shoulder and marched toward his horse. “Think whatever you want. It won’t change the truth.”

  The following afternoon, they came upon the highroad. A gnarled, hollow oak marked the interchange, with signs nailed to it letting travelers know which direction to go for their chosen destination. Jhareth dismounted and strode over to the oak, reaching down into its hollow recesses to pull out a wooden box, which he opened to reveal a set of weathered scrolls.

  “The Stonechaser Prophecy,” he said. “I hid it here because I didn’t want it taken off of me if I got caught.”

  “Seems sensible,” Dist said, taking the box from Jhareth. “You really think these ancient things tell where a great treasure lies?”

  “From what I remember, a treasure whose price is beyond measure,” Nerris said.

  Jhareth frowned. “To tell you the truth, I’m kind of hoping it’s a treasure whose price we can measure.”

  Dist handed the box to the captain. “It’s all in your protection now, Sir Enric.”

  Enric sighed with relief. “Now my task is truly complete.”

  Jhareth grinned. “I don’t know, Sir Knight. Who knows what kind of daring exploits lie between us and our fair capital?”

  Dist laughed. “What could go wrong in the Stretch? Once we exit the forest, it’s desolate moors from here to the coast. There’s a reason people call it The Bores.”

  It took them a couple more days riding west, but they came to the edge of the Great Oak Forest. A small brook ran to the south, past the tree line, but the bridge was in disrepair.

  “On the way here, we had to lead our mounts across the brook,” Sir Enric said. “Don’t worry, it’s not deep.”

  They dismounted, and Nerris glanced back at Len-Ahl as she walked toward the edge of the forest, humming a lilting tune. His encounter with the maiden of the woods a few nights past caused him to think about the song they had danced to, Maiden in the Willow. However, Len-Ahl did not drop to her death when she cleared the trees and stepped into the sunlight. She merely gazed to the western horizon as a breeze wafted through her shining hair, a look of wonder on her face.

  “It is so empty,” she said, glancing at the moors ahead and the blue sky above.

  Nerris had to disagree with her on that point. Out there in the world was anything but emptiness, which was both relieving and dispiriting. He felt as if he was watching the slow death of innocence, but he had to admit he was glad to be in the strange girl’s
company. Whatever lay ahead, he would help her however he could as the wide world claimed another.

  Chapter Sixteen

  THE TRIP FROM the Great Oak Forest to Faerlin was uneventful. Their party ran into a bit of luck and made it in time to shelter at the Kennels, the seat of House Hallsworth, as a ferocious storm blew in. The castle derived its name from the faithful greyhound which adorned their banners. Hallsworth lands were in the shadow of Faerlin, and the house owed its loyalties directly to the king.

  Lady Ceresa lived at court, so it was her steward who opened the gates for them when Sir Enric cited king’s business. Lest they be kept unduly from a brisk arrival at the capital, everyone agreed to keep the Thrillseekers’ identities secret. Nerris had never met the steward, or much of anyone from the Kennels that he could recall, and it was easy to pretend they were mere hired swords.

  Len-Ahl tensed as the gates closed behind them. Nerris realized she had never been inside a castle before, and suspected the walls made her feel a bit trapped.

  “Are you doing all right?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It is just dead in here. There is no life in stone like in the trees.”

  “Wait until Faerlin,” Nerris said. “The entire city is enclosed by walls.”

  “The walls hinder the winds. I have trouble hearing the call of Paral.”

  “Who?”

  “Paral, King of the Wind,” she said. “It is he who my magic comes from.”

  “A wind cleric. So that’s what you are.”

  Nerris vaguely recalled talk of elemental wizards from throughout his travels. Most of them were gone, and those who remained tended to live alone in remote locations. Their orders had long since scattered, though Yagolhan had housed a fair few sects of earth clerics. Their order had lasted the longest, but he knew that might not be true for much longer. When he had hidden out in Palehorse, it was rumored that Qabala had captured their leader, a Nateus who had tutored Prince Lahnel, and intended to stamp out their presence for good.