by Jeff Wheeler
“Knew of him,” she replied. “His brother is a merchant captain with the League of Ilvaren. I’ve known that. But Secrist is reckless. Ban him, trying to hang a knight from Owen Draw in the Foxtale. What in Pitan was he thinking!” She looked up at Thealos and flushed. “I’m sorry for my language. I do that when I lose my temper.”
Thealos smiled. “I have that problem myself. I’ve said worse, and recently.” He liked Flent and Ticastasy. They had both come to his aid. He owed them something for their trouble. “Neither of you are safe here.” He glanced down at Flent, who nodded, listening to him carefully. “The Kiran Thall will probably come back. So will the men who were here for me.”
He felt a prick at the back of his neck, but he saw Jaerod’s reflection in the serving girl’s cinnamon-brown eyes. The Sleepwalker stood behind him.
“He’s right,” Jaerod said, looking down at the two. “It will be dangerous for both of you to stay here. Especially you, Drugaen.”
“Why?” Flent demanded, eyes cautious yet curious.
Thealos smiled. He put his hand on Ticastasy’s shoulder. “You were willing to guide me to shelter. Let us do the same for you. Do you know a place where they can stay, Jaerod?”
Her brown eyes looked into Thealos’. “Who are you, my lord?”
“They’ll come with us,” the Sleepwalker said.
The serving girl wiped her eyes on her blouse and shook her head. “I’m not afraid of Secrist or the Kiran Thall. We’ll have watchmen looking for them. And they’ll all spend a fortnight in the River Cellars if they ever ride into Sol again.”
“You must come with us,” Jaerod insisted.
“This…this is our home, Sleepwalker. Roye depends on us. He can’t run the Foxtale by himself. Flent, tell them!”
Flent stared at Jaerod. “It’s dangerous because of the magic. Isn’t it? The magic that healed me.”
Jaerod nodded. “You are not safe here. Come with us.”
“Flent! I can’t believe you’re considering this! We don’t know who they are!”
The stubby Drugaen rose to his feet and slid the Sheven-Ingen axe in his belt hoop. He looked into her frantic eyes. “I should be lying here dead on the floor, ‘Stasy.” He waved his hand at the mess of blood on his shirt. The inn was rank-smelling as the serving girls brought out floor brushes and mops. “We leave tonight?” Flent asked Jaerod, and the Sleepwalker nodded.
“I won’t let you go alone!” she seethed.
He gave her a frown. “Then grab some clothes, girl. Get moving.”
The serving girl muttered under her breath and nodded, standing and folding her arms. “All right. But at least tell us where.”
“Landmoor,” Jaerod said, staring back across the tavern at something. A small smile flickered on his mouth.
Across the ramshackle tavern, the knight from Owen Draw slowly bound a wound he had earned in the fight with the Kiran Thall. He was watching them.
XVI
Thealos and his companions huddled around a small fire in a grove of elm near the Valairus shore. It was well after midnight. Fog swirled around the sheltering trees, chilling their cheeks with salty wetness. The fire snapped, its tiny flames whipped by the bone-cold gusts from the sea. Thealos pulled the new cloak tighter around his throat, keeping the hood from blowing off.
Flent Shago leaned against a stump of driftwood, munching on a handful of chickpeas. The cold didn’t appear to be bothering him at all. He had a big travel sack next to him in the sand and grass, and a small round cask propped up his arm. He’d changed the bloody tatters for a fresh shirt and pants, a huge leather belt and buckle, and some sturdy walking boots. On his hip, he carried the double-bladed axe. He had boasted to Thealos earlier that he’d won it in a game of Bones from a Sheven-Ingen sailor. Ticastasy nestled close to the Drugaen, sharing his warmth. Thealos barely recognized her. Gone were the cheap tinkling bracelets and frilly green skirt he had seen her in earlier. She wore traveling clothes – sturdy brown pants with boots and a light loose cotton-twined shirt. A thick cloak with a wide hood draped along her back, and her dark hair was tied back with a colorful violet band. He noticed a thin knife in her belt. She shivered as the wind battered them again and stared into the fire, lost in her thoughts.
Thealos looked across the fire at Jaerod. The Sleepwalker crouched before the logs, prodding them with a stick as if to coax more warmth from them. The crash of the ocean waves on the shore was followed by a steady hiss as the tide retreated. The sound was comforting and brought back memories of his visits to Jan Lee with Correl.
“How many times have you been out to sea?” Jaerod asked Thealos over the dying firelight.
Thealos shook his head and folded his arms, shivering. “I was just thinking of that. I’ve never been to the East Kingdoms, but I plan to someday. Jan-Lee is pretty…and warmer. This fog is cold enough to freeze wine.”
Jaerod smiled. “Oh, this is mild. Try crossing the Ravenstone during a blizzard.”
“Cold is cold, Sleepwalker,” Flent muttered sleepily, patting Ticastasy’s arm with his meaty hand. She snuggled closer to him. “I was born in the Ravenstone but you get used to it, I guess.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve. “This doesn’t bother me much. But I’m never going back to those mountains.”
“Why not?” Thealos asked. “Isn’t that your homeland?”
“Nope. Sol is. During all those banned wars with the banned Krag in the Ravenstone, my parents died of tide fever. I wanted to fight, but they said I was too young, so they sent me to an orphanage in Astillon. I hardly remember what it was like any more. But I do remember it was cold.”
“Astillon is pretty country though,” Thealos said. “I like the highlands. Spruce and red-pine groves and fields of mustard clover.”
Flent shrugged, not impressed. “You’re talking about the scenery. It’s not easy being the only Drugaen at an orphanage. Too young to fight in the wars, they said. Hah! Had plenty of fights at the orphanage. Nobody left to look after me.” He gave Thealos a low smile. “Quite a few of your people there. The outcast ones – the Kilshae. Some of ‘em, anyway. No one ever came back for me. You know, to bring me back to the Drugaen Nation.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “So when I was old enough, I left and went as far from the mountains as I could walk. I love the sea.” He smiled at the hiss of foam receding off the shores. “Ahhh, that’s music.”
“I can’t believe we’ve known each other that long, Flent,” Ticastasy smiled, jostling his leg. “What, eight years ago already? You were just a small lad back then. Look at you now. Too much Spider ale, and you’ve got scabby knuckles from all the fighting you do.”
Flent chuckled. “And who are you calling skinny, girl? You were just a gangly little thing yourself, fawning over every sea captain coming into port. Never the first mates, either. She liked the captains best.” He gave Thealos a wry smile, seeing the look on his face. Thealos had a difficult time reconciling the pretty serving girl’s affection for Flent. “She’s my sister, Thealos. We’re kindred, no matter what anyone says. When Roye put me to work in the Foxtale, I started keeping my eye on her. Anyone got too close, and…”
“You left them bleeding out their nose on the back porch,” the girl finished for him. “You’d think he was half-hen, half-rooster. Strutting like any freeborn Drugaen, yet he’s as motherly as don Rion’s queen. I’m surprised I’ve met anyone these last few years.” She nudged him playfully in the ribs.
“Hush,” Flent chided. He flushed with pride though. “Just kept the bad ones away, that’s all.”
“And how many bad ones were there?” Jaerod asked.
“Most of them,” he shot back with a grin. Gazing over the fire at Jaerod, Flent looked him dead in the eye. “So we’re going to Landmoor, Sleepwalker. ‘Preciate you looking out for us. I just can’t help thinking – wouldn’t we run into more Kiran Thall down there than we would further north?”
“You’re not the fool you pretend to be,” the Sleepwalker replied with a wry
smile. “I’m sorry for the little deception, but it was very likely that anything we said was overheard.” Before the serving girl could object, he added, “Thealos and I are going to Landmoor. But we’re stopping in Castun first. It’s a little village on the north border of the Shadows Wood. I know the innkeeper at the Catpaw Inn, and I’m sure he’ll have work for you until things settle down in Sol.” He scattered some of the ashes with the stick. The earth was a mixture of dirt and sand. “When Thealos and I finish our business in Landmoor, you can go where you like.” His voice trailed off thoughtfully, and then he looked at Thealos. “I learned some things in Sol tonight. Disturbing news. Things are happening much faster than I thought they would. I must leave you. Tonight.”
“What?” Thealos sat forward with a start. He was aware of Flent and Ticastasy staring at them in confusion.
“If I leave now, I can be in Castun tomorrow. You three would only slow me down.” His gray eyes glittered. “I need to make some arrangements before we head down to Landmoor. Before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” The thought of Jaerod abandoning him struck fear and anger inside him. He wanted to ask more, but he didn’t dare voice his concerns. He had no idea where Castun was, or Landmoor for that matter. Jaerod had only asked him to follow, not to find his own way there.
The Sleepwalker snapped the stick in half and tossed it into the fire. He looked at all three of them. Flent and Ticastasy stared back. “There is danger on the road ahead as well as behind us. The Bandit Rebellion is massing an army outside of Landmoor. They plan to siege the fortress and provoke a war with Dos-Aralon.” He looked at Thealos. “And possibly Avisahn too. We need to get into the city before it falls.”
“And when might that happen?” Thealos asked.
Jaerod shook his head. “There is too much to explain tonight, and I don’t have time. There are also too many factors that can affect the answer. When I left the Shoreland, the army was still gathering slowly. But I’ve heard otherwise tonight. I promise I will tell you the rest of it in Castun. Let me just say that if the Bandit army takes the city before we get there, a good many will die from an unknown sickness. This isn’t a plague – it’s something even worse. There are forces at work here you do not understand.” He rose, his black cloak whipping in the harsh wind. “I must go on alone, Thealos.”
“Why can’t I go with you?” he demanded in a low voice.
“I can get there much faster alone,” Jaerod replied. “You need to hurry. The sooner you can get to Castun, the better for us all.”
“Can I talk to you?” Thealos pressed, motioning him away from the fire. He was furious, but held his tongue in front of the others.
Jaerod relented. Together, they left Flent and Ticastasy at the fire’s edge and walked down the crunch of sand and stone towards the flat wash of the shore. The blue moon of Eroth was hidden beneath the shroud of Shoreland fog. They walked until the fire was just a tiny prick of light, though still not very far away.
Thealos dug his hands beneath his arms. “You didn’t tell me you were going to abandon me with them,” he seethed. “What am I? A wet-nurse? I don’t understand why we’re bringing them in the first place.”
Jaerod gave Thealos a stern look. “Because you used the Everoot on the Drugaen, Thealos.”
“He was dying!”
“I’m not faulting you for your compassion. But there are consequences with magic. You made a decision without knowing the effects.” He sighed, giving Thealos another pointed look. “Using magic like this leaves an impression – a footprint, if you will. Just as there are trackers who can follow a deer through the scrub, there are those who can sniff out the trail of magic. We must bring them to protect you, Thealos. I spoke of powers at work in this valley. These people would kill you if they knew about you.”
Thealos swallowed, his anger turning into water.
“The Wolfsmen were waiting for us, which means that the Shae also consider you a big threat. I’ve stayed with you this long to be sure they didn’t follow us right away. We bought a little time slipping out of Sol tonight. The Wolfsmen will have to report the incident to Avisahn and wait for a reply before they will follow us. Speed is essential.” He pointed to the firelight. “They will need you to guide them to Castun, Thealos. You’re a far better woodsman than either of them.”
“But I’ve never been to Castun,” he answered, shaken.
“You’d never fought the Kiran Thall either. But now you have. I have confidence in you, Thealos. But I have no other choice. I need to see the progress of the army to know how much time we have left. If we have any at all.”
“And the Crimson Wolfsmen?” Thealos asked. “I can’t face one on my own, let alone a quaere if another is sent to track me. Jaerod, I think they can sense where I am through the sword. It is Wolfsman magic. Maybe that is how they found me.”
“They can sense the Silvan magic as easily as you can – but only when they are near. We have a strong lead. If you hurry, you’ll reach Castun before they find the trail and start after. I’ll be with you if they catch us again.”
“You don’t understand, Jaerod,” Thealos said, shaking his head. “In Sol, I could see the other Wolfsmen through the Silvan magic in the sword. It bonded us together…like brothers. What if they don’t need to track me? What if they can see me right now?”
“One of the Wolfsmen was killed then.”
“Yes.” He paused. “How did you know that?”
The Sleepwalker nodded with understanding. “Because the blade uses both magics – Life and Earth magic. You felt the sword change when the Wolfsman died, didn’t you? Life magic is ancient magic, Thealos. Very few of the Shae still know how to use it or invoke it. But when your people came to this world, they taught the Druids about the Earth magic and they taught a few about the Life magic. Only a few. Life magic is powerful, but it has a greater chance of being used in Forbidden ways.” Thealos’ eyes widened, but Jaerod soothed him. “The blade you have was forged with Silvan magic – meaning it uses its magic appropriately. You cannot kill another Shae with that weapon. The blade would reject and burn you if you tried. Now there is something about the Crimson Wolfsmen order that uses Life magic as well. When one Wolfsman dies, his Life magic is spent and given to strengthen his brothers. Not even Everoot could bring him back. You may never feel that bonding again. It happened because of who Jade Shayler was, not who you are. The blade channels it.”
Thealos nodded. “How do you know so much about this?”
“I’ve told you that already.” Smiling, the Sleepwalker put his hand on Thealos’ shoulder. “I am a Sleepwalker. I’ve been to the Druid vaults of Parath-Anatos. Even to the Shae archives in Avisahn…and Landmoor. That’s why I never make it a practice to kill a Crimson Wolfsman. The last man left of a quaere is strong and quick enough to kill even a Sleepwalker. Remember that.”
“So you don’t think the Wolfsman can follow me through the bonding?”
“If they could, you would share the connection. You would be able to see them as well. Do you?”
“I hadn’t thought of that. Oh for Hate’s sake – I’m going to have to start learning to trust you,” he added with a reluctant smile. “I suppose you wouldn’t abandon us deliberately, and it would be much harder to free me from Nordain’s cell if you are wrong, and I won’t be much help to anyone locked up.” He saw Jaerod’s smile and sighed. “Now how do I find Castun? We’re on the shores of the Valairus and the Shadows Wood is west…”
“Follow the coastline, but keep near the trees. You won’t mistake the Shadows Wood. It’s too big to wander by, even with all the cover in the valley floor. Now be careful. The Kiran Thall have increased their patrols in preparation for the invasion. Don’t let them find you. But they are looking north for trouble, not east. When you reach the forest, follow the north border until you reach the Iron Point Road. Castun is right there.” He gave Thealos a warm smile. “I’ll meet you at the Catpaw in a day or two. The owner will be
watching for you.”
“Do you have any more Everoot?” Thealos asked. “We might need it.”
“You can hold it for now,” Jaerod answered, reaching into his belt for the wet bundle. “Just remember to keep it wet with fresh water. Every day.”
“I will. Be safe, Jaerod.”
The Sleepwalker looked at him and nodded before turning and vanishing into the thick mist. Thealos stared after him, trying to pick him out of the haze and gloom. Clutching the moist bag, he stuffed it in his vest and started back towards the camp.
* * *
For hours, the wind surged across the slate-gray sea in the black of night, and shortly before dawn, the sky began to brighten – a little. Thealos awoke to a light pattering of rain from the leaden skies. He had only dozed lightly during the night, huddled beneath a cloak and blanket for warmth. Rising, he shook out his things and felt the stinging slap of brine on his hands and neck. The fog was inland now, reaching far into the valleys and troughs. He was anxious to reach the shelter of the forest, even one with as dark a reputation as the moors of the Shadows Wood.
“A bright and cheery morning has greeted us,” Thealos drawled, jostling the sturdy Drugaen until he stirred. He chafed his hands to dull the sting of the cold. Flent awoke with a yawn and a belch. Thealos gently rocked the serving girl’s shoulder and she awoke, her dark hair windblown and straying from its colorful tether.
“It’s cold,” she murmured, staring at the billowing mist.
“We don’t have time for a fire, I’m afraid,” he apologized. Thealos opened his travel sack and withdrew some provisions to share. “Not as good as the roast goose last night, but maybe we can convince Flent to share some of his chickpeas.” They ate the meal in silence, chewing on the hard biscuits and salt pork without any relish. Flent washed his down with a cup of ale. As the Drugaen and the serving girl packed up their things, Thealos used sapple-dust on the ashes and buried them in the sand with a trowel. Dusting his hands, he slung his pack over his shoulder and strung his bow. He tested its pull and nodded, satisfied.
