The scenery of the new world was beautiful, the very air seemingly teeming with the possibility of magic. Periodically, the constant hum of the key would build and crescendo against Will’s chest before returning to its dull vibration. He was now aware that it seemed to coincide with strange happenings, yet he could never place exactly what. At first, he thought little of it but soon noticed that every time he searched the surrounding area, alerted by the key, Cephora also seemed to be extra watchful. Regardless, nothing ever materialized, nothing to justify such strange feelings.
The color of the sky began to darken when Cephora finally turned them off the main road. The shift to uneven ground and frequent stones made each footfall more precarious and took Will out of the pacing trance he had adopted over the past few hours. The underbrush grew progressively taller until soon it was almost at waist height. The going was slower and slower as he and Mad struggled to keep up with Cephora, while her every step seemed as sure and confident as it had been on the main road.
After walking for some time, they approached a large tree whose branches dipped all the way to the ground. Cephora brushed them aside and passed beneath the limbs, beckoning for Madigan and Will to follow. It was surprisingly cool and comfortable inside, the dry ground matted with dead needles that bounced with each step.
“We’ll rest here for the night,” Cephora said as she set her pack down at the large base of the tree trunk.
“Sounds lovely,” Will said with a smile. He unslung his pack and let it fall to the ground as Mad dropped his and stretched his arms wide.
“I take it you’ve stayed here before?” Mad asked as Cephora began to skirt the base of the tree, skillfully maneuvering the debris into a pile long enough for a human to rest on.
Cephora nodded. “Many times, though rarely in the company of others. Still, there’s plenty of room for the three of us.”
Madigan and Will set about clearing space and building their own sleeping areas while Cephora removed her cloak and draped it over a low-hanging branch. The cleared ground was compact and smooth, the dirt undisturbed by rainfall for years. It didn’t take long to build up a good supply of needles that was surprisingly soft to sit upon.
Mad removed his cloak and excused himself outside with a book. Sitting, Will removed his boots and flexed his feet, wincing a bit. Cephora chuckled as he surveyed the fresh blisters.
“Something funny?” he asked, frowning.
Cephora shook her head and smiled. “Funny? No. Surprising? Yes.”
Will stretched his legs out and rolled his ankles then met her gaze. “Well, I suppose not all of us are as used to this much foot travel as some others.”
She held up her hands in a placating gesture. “You misunderstand, William. Your fatigue is completely understandable. Even if I thought otherwise, I would not do you the disservice of letting you know that.”
Will’s brow furrowed as he tried to determine whether or not he’d been insulted. “Alright, then,” he said. “What’s surprising? If you don’t mind my asking?”
“Only that you are a blood relative of Jervin Thorne, the Master of Blades, the Keeper,” Cephora said, cocking her head to the side. “And yet, there you sit with aching feet. Years you spent under his tutelage, and yet you allow blisters to give you pause.”
Will decided that he was, indeed, being insulted. “Listen, Cephora, I don’t know what the hell you’re getting at but you’re not exactly—”
“Your knives, I mean.”
“How are my knives related to my blisters?” he asked with considerable bite.
She sighed. “I mean only that after studying so long with your grandfather, I am surprised at the things you still do not know.”
Will waited a moment for her to continue but she just smiled. Finally, he took the bait. “Such as…?”
“Tell me, William Davis, what do you know of dragons?”
The question brought to mind a conversation with his grandfather from long ago. William, what do you recall of Dorian Valmont?
That had been the start of all of this. He shook the thought out of his head. “Only that they’re dead, that Valmont killed the last of them.”
Cephora pursed her lips. “That very well may be. Anything else?”
May be?
“I only just found out that they ever truly existed. All Grandda said was that weapons like these were feared,” he said. He strained to recall anything else from their final conversation. There was something more there, he knew it. After a moment, he lit up as he remembered. “Life and death, he said. Something about the dragon’s ability and wielding the power of life and death.”
Cephora’s white teeth flashed in a grin and she clapped her hands together. “Precisely! Their energy flows with life, restoring health.”
“But he said that the ability was lost long ago…?”
“Did he?” Cephora cocked her head. “Strange. It should not have been so, the gems are intact.”
“The rubies?” Will said, strumming his thumb along the gem.
Cephora gestured toward the blades. “Not rubies, William. Blood. Blood and magic and something far more ancient.”
Will’s hand froze. He knew he should have felt revulsion at the revelation but instead his fascination only grew. “Blood?”
“Suddenly so full of questions, aren’t you?” Cephora said and laughed.
“What?” Will said, suddenly self-conscious. “Oh, no, it’s just that Grandda, he never said anything about them and, well, I just…what do they do?”
She held out her hand and gestured toward the shorter of his blades. “May I?”
Will removed the knife and handed it to Cephora. She raised it and gave it an appraising look. She turned the blade over in her hands and lifted the gem to her eyes. She closed them and muttered something Will could not quite hear. Suddenly, his key shot to life, sending its currents coursing through his chest as the embedded gem began glowing brilliantly, casting a red glow over the entire area. Cephora opened her eyes and moved her hand over the shining light, which faded to its dull, simple elegance.
“The binding is intact, but only just,” she said. Smiling, she held out the blade for Will to take back. “You should have more success now.”
“Success with what?” he asked almost before she had finished speaking.
“Truly?” Her gaze was different now as she looked at him. “Jervin did not teach you the manipulations when he awarded you these?”
“No, he…” Will hesitated. “There wasn’t time.”
Cephora sighed in understanding and crossed her hands behind her back. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Will said, looking back at the gemmed blade. “We haven’t exactly filled you in all the way. You don’t know the full circumstances of what happened.”
Cephora nodded. “This is true. But still, perhaps I can be some help in picking up where he left off.”
Will perked up a bit at that. “Extra instruction is always appreciated.”
Cephora smiled. “It’s settled then,” she said. “We’ll begin first thing in the morning.”
Madigan returned to their little hideaway just then. “Begin what, now?”
His reappearance caught Will off guard. “That was fast. Usually you’re off reading for hours at a time.”
He shrugged. “My mind wouldn’t settle enough. Why? Am I interrupting something?”
“Not at all,” Cephora said. “Your brother and I were just discussing the nuances of missed opportunities and how best to re-approach them.”
“Like that girl at the tavern last night?” Mad said and grinned wide.
“Hey, that wasn’t a missed opportunity!”
“Easy, Will, I’m just giving you a hard time,” he said as he made his way over to the makeshift bed and sat upon it. “What did I miss, then?”
“Cephora is going to work with me. Apparently, there’s a lot I still don’t know about what my blades are capable of.”
“Just like I�
�ve been telling you for years, kid. There’s a lot about a lot that you don’t know.”
Will snickered as Cephora laughed out loud before interjecting. “Actually, William, I’ll be working with each of you. Both of you could stand to benefit.”
Madigan shifted in his seat. “What do you have in mind?”
“As things currently stand? Sleep.” She smiled as she lay down. “But in the morning? Well, I need to know what I’m working with. I suggest you rest up.”
They awoke early the next morning just as the sky began to glow. Cephora guided them to a nearby patch of rocky ground with little ground cover, then directed Will and Madigan to spar with one another. She was silent as the pair skirmished barehanded, circling them in silence. Periodically she ordered them to separate, inspecting them by having them stretch or crouch or jump. Satisfied by whatever she was looking for, she would order them to continue to spar and the cycle began anew.
Before long, both brothers were sweating and breathing hard. Each bore an assortment of new cuts and bruises when Cephora halted the bout and they ate a light breakfast of nuts and seeds with a few dried berries. Afterward, they returned to their path through the wilderness, the fatigue from the morning adding to their discomfort from the previous day’s trek. Cephora didn’t make her thoughts known regarding their sparring session nor offer any suggestions of how to improve.
For the next ten days, the routine continued in much the same fashion. Conversation came easier over time. Madigan seemed to warm up to their new companion and probed Cephora for personal information, who she was and who the Seekers were. She skillfully deflected each question and instead turned his inquiries in on themselves, gathering information about the brothers and their upbringing. Madigan kept things brief, glossing over specifics rather than going into much detail on most events. He seemed determined to have their story remain as secret as Cephora’s.
In the spirit of encouraging open dialogue, however, Will held little back when it came to his own side of the story. In fact, with Madigan being so tight-lipped, he was able to spin himself as something of a heroic figure at times. The night that his Shade had stopped the truck? There was no thievery involved; he risked everything to save a man’s life. The battle in the tunnels? No mysterious lightning at all, only skill and guile. Madigan never contradicted his brother, letting Will have his moments to shine as Cephora nodded and whistled, making all of the appropriately appreciative affirmations.
Will basked in the attention. Everything seemed to be going well until he was elaborating on saving a fearful and near-unconscious Madigan for the third time when Cephora started laughing. Will halted his tale, confused.
“Please, Madigan,” Cephora forced through peals of laughter, “please tell me if he’s always like this!”
“What?” Will said, caught completely unawares. “Always like what?”
Will’s brother just snickered.
“Always so, so,” Cephora struggled to speak through her laughter, “so absolutely full of it!”
Madigan burst out in howling amusement as Will stood there sputtering. After a moment, Madigan composed himself and gave a quick nod. “Yeah,” he said. “Pretty much all the time.”
Will shrank into himself. After a moment, Cephora controlled her laughter and smiled. “I’ll say this, you’re certainly more entertaining companions than your grandfather ever was.”
Will’s injured pride gave way for a moment as Madigan seized on the opportunity. “You travelled with our grandfather?” he asked.
“On occasion,” Cephora said as if the information was commonplace. “He was always quite serious when we would.”
“Grandda?” Will asked. Memories of hikes with his grandfather laughing and telling stories came flooding back to him. “That doesn’t sound like him.”
“Hunting men for execution is rarely a jovial experience, William.”
Will paused, simultaneously chastised and intrigued. “Criminals?”
“More often than not.” Cephora smiled as she turned back to him. “But always people who had done wrong.”
“I wonder what could have been so wrong as to warrant both a Seeker and a Blademaster,” Madigan said, his voice barely audible.
Cephora glanced at Madigan and her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t the first venture I’ve embarked upon to stop agents of Valmont.”
“So, you were there when Valmont was brought in the last time?” Madigan asked.
Cephora shook her head. “No. I had been tasked with a different objective then.”
“What objective?”
Cephora didn’t respond. Instead, she turned and moved on again. They kept walking in silence for almost a minute before Will tried to recover the conversation. “Other than going after Valmont’s assassins, who did you go after?”
“Many people,” she said without pausing. “His acolytes, suicidal pawns chasing eternal life. Zealots of Radiance. Sometimes the more common criminal who happened to have crossed the wrong person of influence.” She smiled. “We took down more than a few.”
“So, Seekers then, what, you’re trackers? Bounty hunters?” Madigan asked.
“Something like that.” Cephora shrugged.
“But, whenever the two of you were together, other people died?” Will knew the answer already but he couldn’t help the question, no matter how much he didn’t want to hear.
“You don’t become known as the Master of Blades without using your blade, William.” Cephora’s voice was level and matter-of-fact but he could sense something else behind it.
“You were friends?” Mad asked it before he could.
Cephora paused a moment before responding. “Comrades in war is more like it,” she said, glancing back. Something about the look on Will’s face must have betrayed his thoughts. “You don’t believe me?”
“It’s just,” Will chose his words carefully, “he never mentioned you.”
Cephora chuckled. “Told you everything, did he? All about his life here? Everything he left behind? Everything he wished he could forget?”
“No. I suppose not. I just didn’t know he was such a…”
“Such a what?”
“Killer.”
Cephora gave a quiet “humph” before falling back into silence. Madigan, who had remained quiet, finally spoke to his brother softly, his eyes downcast. “I’ve killed, Will.”
Will flushed, thinking back to their childhood, to the night their mother died, to the bloody baseball bat in his brother’s hands. “That’s different, Mad. You were defending us.”
“I’m not now, though,” Madigan said. “Now we’re hunting, not defending. More than likely, I’ll have to kill again.”
Suddenly, the weight of their undertaking seemed heavier to Will than it had previously. He realized that at no point when they told anyone of their quest had Madigan spoken of capturing Senraks. No, that wasn’t his way. He was taking the matter upon himself. This creature, this speaking, sentient being, would die at the hands of his brother.
“Listen, Mad, I didn’t mean it that way.”
Madigan didn’t meet his eye and kept walking. Cephora spoke up. “Jervin Thorne was a man who sought justice, Will, a good man. Killer or no, he was good and kind.”
“I know.” Will nodded as he pictured his grandfather’s smile, his laughing face. For once, they were not marred by the horrific image of his death. At least, not for a moment.
“And sometimes the people who are the kindest are the ones with the darkest secrets, the most skeletons in their closet,” she said. “They balance their scales by being good and just.”
Will didn’t know how to reply. No one else spoke for a time.
“Perhaps,” Madigan said in the uncomfortable silence, “we’re not quite as entertaining as you thought we were.”
Cephora continued at the same pace as before, seemingly unperturbed. Will pushed away a multitude of follow-up questions, fearing the course of the conversation. Everything he had expected about Aer
il was in flux. He always thought that there were certain inescapable truths about the world, but they had been constantly challenged since the death of his grandfather. Perhaps that’s it, he realized, the truths I knew were from a different world. Everything here is different.
The thought didn’t comfort him.
Gradually, conversation resumed. Madigan and Cephora talked about the land and the surrounding areas while Will kept mainly to himself, lost in his own thoughts. After a time, he joined in but everything he said felt forced and half-hearted at best.
The remainder of the day was spent traveling cross-country and climbing low, rolling hills. The landscape grew even more beautiful as they moved farther inland. Away from the water surrounding Undermyre, the autumnal colors and hazy sky created an eternal dawn. The mountains on the horizon began to multiply as, off in the reaches of Will’s sight, the outline of more snowy peaks appeared. One, far, far in the distance, towered above the rest. It appeared black, somehow completely absent of snow, and had a mist of smoke that circled the sky above.
“Is that an active volcano?” Will asked.
“The dark mountain?” said Cephora, following his gaze. “No. That is Umbriferum.”
Realization dawned on Will and he nearly stopped in his tracks—Umbriferum, home to the Halls of Shadow. Where I’m supposed to go. Madigan shot him a knowing look and shook his head slightly. Cephora did not notice the exchange.
“Umbriferum?” Will asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster. “What’s that?”
“It was once the base of the Blades of Shadow, warriors who wielded the power of darkness,” she said.
“More of the evil men that you and Jervin hunted down?” Madigan asked. His tactics were far from elegant, but Will couldn’t deny their effectiveness at gathering information.
Cephora chuckled. “Quite the opposite. Darkness doesn’t mean evil. The Blades of Shadow were some of our staunchest allies before they were wiped out.”
“What happened to them?” Will asked. His grandfather hadn’t said anything about them being wiped out.
“Valmont,” Cephora said as if reading from a textbook. “Or, at least, the remnants of his following. After his disappearance, there was a brief rising by them. In the aftermath of the destruction wrought by Valmont’s escape, the few surviving Blades perished saving Undermyre and the Nordoth. The Halls fell into disarray soon after. Umbriferum became a monument to a dead age.”
Shadowborne Page 22
