“So,” the Crow said. “Knowing all that you face and aware of all that you do not know, young brothers Davis, I ask you for a third time: What is your purpose in being here?”
To Will, the question seemingly bore the weight of the world and placed it square on their shoulders. His throat ashen, he waited for Madigan to speak. Mad looked at him, eyes iron, and raised an eyebrow. Trusting his brother, Will nodded in return.
“As my brother told you, Crow, we came here to kill Dorian Valmont,” Madigan said. “But since we are too late, then we shall settle for justice against the creature that killed our grandfather.”
The toothy grin crept its way across the man’s face as he leaned back in his seat and eyed the boys appraisingly. “Justice, is it?”
Both brothers glanced at one another again then nodded to the Crow in unison.
“Very well, then. If justice is your aim, then I do believe I can be of assistance.”
“You’re going to help us?” Will asked cautiously. “Why?”
“Would you rather I not?”
“Well, no,” Will said, fumbling for words. “It’s just that… I thought—”
“What my brother is politely trying to ask, Crow,” Madigan cut in, “is, what’s in it for you?”
“That is concern enough for myself, I think,” the man said with a nod. “Yes, just so. And as you are guests here and new to our way of life, it will serve you well to know that I do not stand for my orders to be questioned, not at all. My position in Undermyre was not earned by answering every child’s whimsical curiosity. You are foreign here, and therefore I have allowed for your social transgressions. You have received more answers in an hour than many do in a lifetime. Be grateful for what you receive but do not presume to inquire after my mind.”
Madigan had clearly touched on a sensitive topic, something their host kept close to the chest. Valmont was dead, but the Crow was still interested in destroying his minions. Yet, if it were out of a sense of justice, why not just say it? No. No, no, there’s something else at stake here.
Will suddenly realized that in a land where centuries were spoken of in casual conversation, the duration of thirteen months, thirteen days, and thirteen hours could pass in the blink of an eye. Gracious host or not, he figured it would serve he and Mad best to be wary of this man and his position, whatever that may be.
The Crow clapped his hands. “Come,” he said. “If you are to hunt the hunter, you shall need to be outfitted properly. It will take some time to set everything into motion, of course, but such things cannot be avoided if one wishes to do things the proper way. And trust me, this course that you have determined to set yourselves on allows no room for error.”
“We have a lead, then?” Madigan said.
Again the Crow showed too many teeth as the skin tightened around his face. “You have only wind, ever-changing and ephemeral. I, however, have my own ways.”
He rose to his feet and motioned for the brothers to do the same. Turning, he lurched and stumbled his way to the door, as though the act of walking was foreign to him. Upon reaching it, he raised his dark cloak higher over his shoulders and exited from the room, Mad and Will following just behind him.
The immense, bright room stood nearly empty now. The conversation of those remaining died when the Crow, followed by Madigan and Will, reentered. The Crow made his way back to the grand chair on the dais that overlooked the room and collapsed into it. No sooner had he sat than Will heard footsteps striding with purpose. He turned and saw Shifter approaching the Crow.
“Yes, Commander?” the Crow said, his voice again adopting its weary, detached tenor.
“Reports of a skirmish on the roads west of Letchbrook. Scouts have only just arrived,” Shifter said as he extended an unsealed scroll. “The city guard was dispatched under the command of Tyril.”
The Crow took the scroll and lowered it to his lap. “Very good. And?”
The commander’s eyes flicked to Madigan and Will. “Rumors have already begun circulating regarding your guests.”
“Halt them,” the Crow said. “No matter the consequence. I want no word of this day leaving the citadel, do you understand?”
Shifter snapped to a rigid salute. “Yes, Crow, it shall be done.”
The Crow dismissed him and looked back at Madigan and Will. “Now, to the two of you. You generated quite a bit of interest with your little display.”
Mad opened his mouth to protest but was silenced by the Crow.
“I don’t want to hear it,” he snapped. “No, certainly not. You are unfamiliar with our ways, a lack of education that must be rectified. That, however, shall take time.”
“How much time do we have?” Will asked.
“Less than some, more than others,” the Crow said dismissively. “While arrangements are being made, you shall remain here under my roof. Quarters have already been prepared for you. I’m sure you will find them somewhat less commodious than you are used to, but you will make do.”
“I don’t suppose a change of clothes is out of the question?” Madigan’s voice dripped sarcasm.
The Crow’s expression showed that it was not well received. “It is being taken care of. You will find your belongings in your room. The maidservant, Ynarra, will see you tended to. Naturally, I require that you remain confined to your quarters until word of your, ah, demonstrative introduction, fades.”
The point was obviously not up for debate. Will bristled and Madigan muttered under his breath, but both of them nodded in understanding.
“Good,” said the Crow. “Once proper arrangements are in order you will hear from me again.”
Dismissed, Mad and Will turned to find a waifish girl, not much older than they, awaiting them at the base of the dais near the fire. Her sandy hair was tied back into two loose braids and a small tattoo was marked underneath her left eye. She dipped her head politely and they began to descend the stairs to join her.
“One last thing, Shadowborne,” the Crow said.
Will stopped in his tracks and glanced back.
“Your Shade is impressive, particularly fierce, in fact,” the Crow said. “You will maintain control over it while within Undermyre. Do not give cause for additional rumors to spread.”
Will stared for a moment in uncertainty. The threat in the man’s words was barely masked. He nodded once and turned away.
14
Within the Nordoth
The room transformed again as the brothers approached their guide, returning to a hazy darkness as they moved from the dais. The girl, Ynarra, was smiling softly, her eyes alight and calm, the color of mocha. The small tattoo was subtle but intricate, the marking itself nothing Will could remember having seen before.
“Welcome to the Nordoth, young masters,” she said, giving the smallest of curtsies. “Please, allow me to show you to your quarters.”
Mad ran his hands through his tousled hair again and gave the room one last scan before gesturing for Will to go ahead. Will fidgeted a moment before stepping forward. As he closed the distance, Ynarra turned and started to walk away, her steps brisk and quick. Leaving Madigan behind for a brief moment, Will shuffled quickly to catch up, wincing at the jolt of pain through his injured leg. He decided to see what he could glean from the girl in the small window of privacy.
“So” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, “do you live here then?”
“Yes,” the girl said without breaking stride.
“For a long time?” Will said as he quickened his pace.
“Yes,” she said again.
Will pursed his laps. He wasn’t going to gather much information from their monosyllabic guide. He dropped back a few paces to walk with Madigan. His brother’s swollen gaze was intent on their surroundings and Will realized he was mapping out their new home. Will cursed silently, chiding himself for failing to have done the same. Already they had made several turns and it was unlikely that, left to his own devices, he could even have made it back to the large
chamber unaided. Deciding that conversation could wait, he instead took a note from his brother and surveyed the Nordoth, as Ynarra had called it.
The hallway was tall and wide, allowing at least ten men to walk abreast. The doors they passed, too, were oversized, far larger than they had any right to be. The air was dark and heavy, similar to how it had been in the chamber of the seneschal before the Crow had somehow transformed it. The walls were a smooth stone. At first, Will thought they were marble. As he looked closer, however, the color seemed slightly off and there was something strange about them. After a moment, he realized that he could find no seams, no mortar of any kind, and no visible breaks in them whatsoever. It was as if everything he passed was one continuous piece of carved stone. Yet, while they were obviously made of stone, they radiated warmth as though heated from within.
Despite the curiosity of the stonework, the halls themselves were unadorned and poorly maintained. It was as if the absence of cleanliness was excused by the darkness that was expected to hide dust and grime. And the darkness itself was strange because it was not completely dark, more akin to a hallway filled with candlelight. Yet, no candles were to be seen. In fact, Will realized that he had not seen a single candle or other light source at any place on their path. It’s just like it was before, down in the Ways. He waited a few moments after the realization, being more attentive to the strange glow and waiting for the source to reveal itself, but his search was in vain.
“Ynarra,” he said, “do you have candles?”
Without breaking stride, she nodded politely. “Yes.”
Madigan chuckled slightly as Will groaned. Oh this is going to be excruciating.
“Do you use them?” Will said, trying to keep his voice light to hide the frustration.
“Yes,” Ynarra said again.
Madigan laughed out loud at that as Will bit his tongue. Alright, no more questions for the girl or I may end up screaming at her.
They turned again, passing through three more corridors and a room filled with large tables and tapestries. Will could make out raised shapes upon one of the tables—a 3D map perhaps? He made a mental note of the room, a place that definitely demanded a second look. Assuming we’re able to sneak away long enough to look around. Despite the harsh tones of the Crow, Will had no intention of adhering to his pseudo-imprisonment.
They climbed two sets of stairs, both spiraling in their ascent. There were no windows were to be seen, no decor—the Nordoth was altogether spartan. Ynarra was silent and light upon her feet as she walked, her steps sending dust swirling in her wake. It seemed to Will that they had been walking for nearly an hour before she stopped quite suddenly in front of a door. Withdrawing a key, she opened it swiftly and without ceremony. She stepped inside and gestured.
“Please, be welcome.”
Will did as he was bid and Madigan entered beside him, whistling as he did so. The Crow certainly hadn’t been lying when he said the quarters would not be luxurious. They were simple and wooden and smelled of aged leaves. The room was, however, immense. It was split-level with a wooden rail separating the two, and each extended for at least twenty yards. Walls stretched high toward the ceiling, the stone jagged and jutting periodically as it reached for the domed ceiling above, at least three stories up. Drapes hung from the exposed rafters that crossed at various levels throughout the rising room. Alongside the drapery were ropes that both connected the beams and hung from them nearly to the floor. Set against the walls was grated wrought iron woven intricately, the filigree seemingly dancing against the stone. Ynarra stepped into the center and spun to face the brothers and spread her arms.
“Your belongings were brought here straightaway upon your arrival,” she said. With each word she nodded, as if rehearsing a script and committing each word to memory. “They have been placed upon the beds, located on the second loft.”
Madigan followed Ynarra’s directing finger to a distant corner of the room where a series of wooden platforms jutted out from the stone. Reflecting over the past few hours, he chuckled.
“Oh yes,” he said. “I’m certain the room was being prepared while we were being threatened with death.”
Ynarra stared at him, an innocent, quizzical expression upon her face. “Threatened with death?” she said, cocking her head to the side.
Mad chuckled and gestured toward Will. “You must have missed our grand entrance.”
Ynarra glanced back and forth between the two of them before giving a polite smile and a small shake of her head. “Oh no,” she said. “I saw everything!”
Madigan’s grin dropped and he looked at her through the corner of his eye. “Then why…?”
Ynarra smiled again and gestured to three large curtains on the opposite wall. “The windows will allow fresh air and light, if you wish it, along with a view of Undermyre, if you wish it,” she said. Her tone suggested that she herself would not wish it. “Meals will be supplied at regular intervals. A washroom is in the alcove behind the third and fifth curtains on the left for all your personal needs. Clothes have been prepared and placed on your beds when you are ready for them. The fourth curtained alcove contains fresh linens.”
Will glanced about, noticing chairs and benches and tables scattered throughout without any semblance of order. Mad ran his hand along one of the tables and turned to his brother. “Not bad as far as prisons go, eh, Will?”
Will snickered and crossed to the large, heavy curtains that covered the windows and drew one back with a sharp tug. Ynarra inhaled suddenly and turned away as orange light flooded into the room. Eyes widening in amazement, Will got his first view of Undermyre.
The city sprawled far beneath, set upon a hilltop at the base of the huge mountain. Studying it, Will realized that the Nordoth was part of the mountain, carved from it. Towers and spires stretched like talons clawing at the sky below him. Grand statues as tall as the tallest trees shone orange, illuminated by the evening sky. The city was surrounded by a double set of walls extending from the mountainside with a latticework of bridges stretching between them. Even at the height of this tower, Will could smell the salt air of the sea mixing with the acrid smells of smoke and city living and realized that Undermyre sat on a peninsula, the water hidden from sight by the surrounding cliffs.
It was beautiful, unlike any city he had ever seen. And yet something lingered over the city, something that turned his shock at the grandeur sour. He squinted and could see it upon the statues, cracked and worn. The buildings were tired and sagging, the air too acrid, as if the sea breeze was not capable of cleansing the scent of stale smoke from it. From above, the city looked worn and tired and neglected. He stepped back from the window ledge and turned to Ynarra.
“Lovely,” Will said.
Mad was looking in a mirror, touching his bruised face and split lip with tender probes. “Not much like home, is it?”
“The windows let the warmth escape quickly,” Ynarra said, not meeting either of the young men’s gazes. “It is recommended that you do not leave them open for long periods of time or the chill becomes uncomfortable.” She still had not looked out the window and was edging her way toward the door, eyes on the floor. “Extra blankets can be found amongst the linens in the fourth alcove. I will return shortly with food.”
“So, that’s it then?” Mad said. His voice was harder than it needed to be, but Will shared his frustration.
“Sir?” Ynarra said as she glanced up, momentarily swooning as she saw the open window.
“Stick us in a tower,” Madigan said. “Lock the door. Keep us fed and forgotten.”
Ynarra smiled again. “Exactly!” she said, the word filled with delight. “The Crow wished you to be forgotten, as you recall, and here it will be impossible for anyone to ever find you!” She curtsied and spun out of the room without another word.
“Hmm, strange girl,” Mad said.
“Yeah, well, it’s been a strange day,” Will replied.
Madigan looked at his brother quizzicall
y for a moment and then burst into laughter. “Yes, Will,” he said as he collapsed onto a seat. “Yes, it has been a strange day.”
Will grinned and looked back out the window toward Undermyre and the dark lands beyond. We really have found ourselves in one of Grandda’s stories. A strange day indeed.
** *
Will exited from the washroom feeling cleaner than he had in weeks. The shower was made from more of the warm stone only the stone was white and had multiple spouts that poured water from three sides when a lever was pulled. The water itself had been steaming and skin-reddening and Will felt invigorated.
To his surprise, the wound on his leg had completely healed itself. Atlantean wine, for all your restorative needs, he mused absently. As strange a thought as magical wines and the like was, he had to admit it did not sound as outrageous as it once would have. Perhaps Grandda prepared us for this better than I’d thought, just in different ways.
The drying cloths were woven linen and delightfully soft. For a time, Will simply stood leaning against the stone walls, wrapping himself tight, appreciating the feeling of being warm and clean and, strangely, comforted. While on the surface it didn’t seem like things were going according to plan, he acknowledged that they hadn’t really had a true plan in the first place.
But there they were, apparently safe, with a host who seemed set on helping them and accommodations that seemed to provide them all that they could need. Everything seemed to be progressing better than they could have hoped, in truth.
Too much seeming, he mused as he dried his hair. Nothing is certain, yet.
Despite not having any certainties other than that they were in an oversized locked chamber, Will allowed himself a brief moment of relaxation and appreciation. He couldn’t explain why, maybe it was just the shower or the warm stone paired with the linen cloth’s touch, but he needed that comforting embrace.
Shadowborne Page 15
