Thorns in Shadow

by Sanan Kolva

  Nylas shook with rage. “Get your head out of the clouds, Lyan, and look from your precious stars long enough to see the world as it really is. This war won’t end with words.”

  Lyan’s jaw tightened. “Look away from the stars? I don’t have much choice in that right now. Look up sometime, Nylas. There are no stars. You’re perpetuating a grudge against Tathrens, while outside these holes where you hide, a mortal uses the power of Murdo to defy the Thunderer in order to gain possession of both Spears! While you crawl blind in the darkness, seeing light only long enough to sate your thirst for blood, a Tathren is standing and fighting to stop someone from taking hold of the power that could free the Mad God. You want your war? Keep it! But don’t try to tell me that I am the fool.”

  Neither Nylas nor Kithr spoke as Lyan spun away and stormed from the room. He didn’t look back.

  Lyan didn’t get far before he had to stop, leaning heavily against the wall and bracing himself with Equinox. Sweat beaded his forehead, and he sucked in gulps of air, waiting for his ankle to throb less before he tried to continue. Blood rushed in his ears.

  He jumped when someone rested a hand on his shoulder, biting back a yelp as he jolted his ankle.

  “What did you do this time, Lyan?” Kithr asked, steadying him. “That damned ankle will never heal right if you keep abusing it. Here, lean on me.”

  “I’ll be all right. Just twisted it after we got Nylas and his men out.”

  “Lyan. This isn’t a place where you want to look injured. They’re no better than a pack of starving wolves, ready to take on any prey they think weak. They might hesitate about attacking their own, but you aren’t one of them.”

  “And I’m weak.” It rankled.

  “In their eyes,” Kithr said. “Equinox or not, those who live in holes and in dungeons have no use for stars and signs, nor for books or lore. You’ve already said what they are.”

  Lyan nodded, leaning on Kithr’s offered shoulder. “I guess it’s safe to assume you won’t regret leaving.” He tried to make light of his words.

  Kithr’s look at him held no humor. “Did you think I would?”

  Lyan drew a deep breath. “The thought crossed my mind that you’d prefer the company of fellow warriors over that of a mooncalf stargazer and the descendants of your enemies.”

  Kithr said nothing for a long moment, helping Lyan limp up the passage. Lyan couldn’t read his expression. When Kithr spoke, his voice was quiet, with hints, Lyan thought, of regret, even shame. “I’m not like them, Lyan. I am not.” He glanced around, judging whether they were alone, and stopped. “I see what I was, though. Being among them while you and the Tathrens freed Nylas and his minions…” Kithr shook his head. “I have the thinnest idea of what you felt, the first time you faced me when I came home.”

  Lyan shuddered. He didn’t often have nightmares about it anymore, but he remembered all too well the pride and satisfaction on Kithr’s face when he had presented his collection of heads.

  Kithr flinched as if he’d been struck. “I was wrong, Lyan, and you’re right. You were right then, and you’re right now. They’re Lost to us, and when death takes them, they’ll go unmourned. I’ll take the company of your Tathrens over Nylas’s minions, and welcome it. Are you ready? The air reeks in this charnel pit, and as little as I want to have these winterborn blooddrinkers at our backs, I prefer it to staying here a heartbeat longer than I have to.”

  Lyan couldn’t help but press a little. “You trust Cailean?”

  “No,” Kithr answered flatly. “But I trust Nylas and his minions even less. Your Tathrens hold their illusion of civility and seem unlikely to tear you to shreds at the slightest provocation.” Kithr fixed a stern look on Lyan. “And have no doubt, you have provoked Nylas. He hates the accusations you’ve laid on him, and he hates them more because they come from you.”

  Lyan drew a deep breath. Stale air and the odor of dirt and stone closed around him. The weight of the stone pressed in, smothering his senses. He shut his eyes, as if that could block out the terrifying thought of living like this, trapped underground like a tomb. “I want out of here.”

  “We’re almost there,” Kithr assured him. “Can you walk from here?”

  Lyan straightened and opened his eyes. “I can.” He looked at his friend. “Kithr, once we’re outside, there’s one thing I must do. It’ll anger them, but I still must do it, and I need you to trust me.”

  “All right…” Kithr looked concerned, but didn’t argue.

  Twilight drew on to night when they stepped outside. Cailean and his men waited on their horses, all gear packed in place. Cailean’s eyes betrayed heartfelt relief to see Lyan, eager to be away from the hostile eyes of elves who longed to shed Tathren blood. Aikan sat stiff, as hostile to the elves as they were to him. Yion alone was at ease, as if safe from the forest’s seething anger. Shadowstar trotted to Lyan, followed by Kithr’s horse. The stallion knelt unasked, and Lyan stepped into the saddle.

  He felt the weight of eyes as he settled Equinox into its resting place. Warriors stood silent, half-hidden by shadows, though whether the shadows were those of the forest or those within each of them, Lyan couldn’t be sure. Expressionless faces and dark eyes followed him. Nylas stood near the wall, opening a path through the bramble wall. Lyan wasn’t surprised, certain the tunnels had more than one exit. Lyan didn’t let his gaze linger on his cousin. Nylas might take eye contact as a challenge.

  Instead, Lyan walked Shadowstar into the center of the camp. He tilted his head back and turned his eyes to the dark sky above. “As astrologer of Heartshrine Village, I am duty-bound to ask, are there any among you who wish their fortunes read? Who wish to know the readings of the stars?”

  From the corner of his eye, Lyan saw Kithr stiffen, understanding. He sensed Patch frown at him for making an offer she knew he couldn’t fulfill.

  Self-conscious, embarrassed shuffling moved from the shadows. A handful of elves stepped forward. They shot one another nervous, thin smiles. After a moment, more followed with glares daring anyone to scoff. Lyan flinched inwardly, but steeled himself. “There are… I’m sorry.”

  His response and genuine sympathy confused them. They looked at him in bewilderment.

  “Look up,” Lyan instructed. The warriors looked at one another, puzzled, then glanced upward. They made the action look unfamiliar and unnatural. After a moment, they actually turned their eyes to the sky.

  “You see?” Lyan asked. He doubted they did, but continued. “The stars are hidden. These clouds cover them every night, masking them. I can’t see the stars to read them. I asked, because it’s my duty, though I had doubts that anyone here still cared for our ancient traditions such as the telling of fortunes.”

  The elf closest to Lyan had been one freed from the dungeon. A long burn scar marred his face, barely missing the left eye. He came from Heartshrine Village, and though Lyan couldn’t put a name to him, he remembered the other’s constellations immediately. “What do you mean by this, Lyan?”

  “A mortal is responsible for this—a mortal blessed by the Mad God, seeking something only the stars can reveal. That is the enemy we fight. If it is your fortune you wish to know, look for the stars. When they shine in the night again, you’ll know we’ve succeeded. If you should choose to seek your home again, I’ll read your signs. I would if I could now, but…” Lyan gestured helplessly toward the shrouded sky. “I am sorry.”

  The elves stood in silence. Lyan didn’t look at their faces. When Shadowstar stepped forward, they shifted aside to allow the stallion to pass.

  Kithr nodded to Cailean, and the Tathren lord gestured for his men to follow. At the camp’s edge, Shadowstar paused before the opening in the wall. Lyan looked down at Nylas, who glared at him in a mix of anger and pain.

  “That was cruel, stargazer.”

  He knew it. But he refused to bow to Nylas. “It was truth, bloodlord.”

  Nylas stiffened at the name. “You dare…”

  “I
dare walk away from a war that doesn’t matter anymore, and I dare to tell you so. Keep fighting the enemy you’ve chosen. My battle isn’t yours.”

  With dismissal of Nylas and his warriors, Lyan nudged Shadowstar with his heels. The stallion snorted and walked from the camp. Lyan glanced over a shoulder. Nylas stood in silence, watching him go. Then, almost reluctantly, the gaunt elf raised his eyes to look to the sky and the stars he’d never realized were gone from sight.

  Chapter Eight

  Secrets lie

  Where men don’t speak

  Secrets lie

  Where keepers fear to seek

  Eerie stillness hung over the night-shrouded forest. Not even crickets stirred the silence when Cailean asked, “As we prepared to leave, what did you say, Lyan? When they all gathered around you?”

  Kithr answered. “Lyan proved that revenge need not appear malicious to be cruel.”

  The Tathrens looked first at Kithr, then at Lyan in surprise. “Cruel? Lyan?” Shiolto asked.

  Lyan shifted uncomfortably. “It was cruel.”

  “And no less than they deserved,” Kithr said sharply, knowing Lyan already second-guessed himself.

  “I have difficulty imagining Lyan intentionally being cruel,” Cailean said, pushing a branch away from his face. “Say something in anger, maybe, but cruel? What happened?”

  “I did my duty as an astrologer—I offered to read their fortunes in the stars,” Lyan answered quietly. “Then I made them see why I couldn’t.”

  The Tathren lord looked puzzled. “And that was cruel?”

  “Yes,” Lyan said. “It forced them to remember who and what they were before this place, this war. It made them remember when such things mattered, and made them wonder how long it’s been since the stars vanished—how long since they last turned their eyes to the sky.” He looked to Kithr. “I didn’t expect so many to accept my offer. Two, maybe three. Was I wrong, Kithr? Are they not all Lost?”

  “Yes, they are,” Kithr said. “They turned their backs to Eilidh Wood and forgot their first duty. They are Lost, Lyan. Never think otherwise. The difference is that now they know they’re Lost, and it’s by their own choice.” His voice was harsh and his eyes hard. “Believe me. I know.”

  In quiet Elven, Lyan said, “You know even the Lost can sometimes find their way again.”

  “Only those who want to, Lyan.” Kithr’s eyes raked the dark, angry forest, a glare that challenged anything to present a hostile face. The forest recognized the warning and sullenly let them pass.

  We’ve finished what needed to be done here. What path do we take now? Lyan let his hand rest on Equinox, and the Spear glowed with light strong enough to illuminate the area around them. He let his eyes adjust and followed the Spear’s prompting.

  Shadowstar snorted but didn’t object when Lyan turned him off the path they followed and toward a bramble-choked track. The stallion raised a hoof over a twisting thorn vines. It shifted with a dry crackle, not unlike a hiss. Lyan gazed at the brambles. “We completed our side of the agreement and earned our passage. Let us through.”

  The vine barely slithered out of the way as Shadowstar stomped a fore-hoof down. Kithr eyed the narrow path dubiously. “This way, Lyan?”

  “Yes, this way. We need to follow this trail.”

  Cailean’s expression mirrored Kithr’s, but he turned his reluctant horse to follow. “You’ve led us true this far. I’m not going to ignore our guide now. Certainly not here.”

  A moment of silence from Kithr, then he said, “You’re less a fool than I thought, Tathren.”

  Cailean raised an eyebrow at the closest thing to a complement Kithr had said to him. He considered his response, then simply inclined his head in a nod. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t get used to it.” Kithr followed Cailean.

  Lyan heard unhappy snorts from the other horses as they followed the trail that reluctantly opened no wider than necessary for a single horse and rider. Shadowstar snapped at a thorny vine that dangled too near Lyan, and it withdrew sullenly. Lyan glanced over his shoulder to be sure his companions followed safely.

  The horses trailed one another as close as they could. The riders were more occupied with keeping their mounts calm than with studying the path. Shadowstar needed no calming, giving Lyan far too many opportunities to see the skeletons half-hidden and trapped in the brambles surrounding them. A shiver ran down his spine.

  When the trail curved away to the right, Lyan drew Shadowstar to a halt and glowered at the wall of thorns ahead, ignoring the more inviting path. “I’m not playing this game, Nylas. Let us through, or we will turn around and return to your camp.”

  In response, he heard brambles close behind their group. Dalrian’s horse whinnied in distress and alarm as thorns nicked her rump. “Uh, Lyan…” Dalrian said uneasily.

  Lyan pulled Equinox free from the saddle. The Spear’s light chased away night’s shadows, bathing them all in a glow like moonlight. Lyan glared at the forest and spoke.

  “Bloodlord.”

  He felt the stillness of the forest all the way to his bones. Even Shadowstar tossed his head and shifted. Lyan tensed when a vine brushed his arm, but no thorns dug into his skin. To his surprise, the whisper of Patch’s voice touch his mind.

  “The Captain is angry with you, cousin. He doesn’t want to let you out. But you have a promise to keep, and you can’t do that within our forest. I’ll open your path.”

  “Thank you,” Lyan said softly. “Be careful.”

  “The Captain won’t stop me, though he knows what I do, cousin. You be careful. You have a promise to keep.”

  “And I will,” Lyan answered solemnly.

  The vine slid from his arm, and the brambles slowly peeled back ahead of Lyan. Shadowstar sniffed, then advanced.

  “Lyan?” asked Kithr.

  “Patch is letting us through,” Lyan said. “Come on.”

  “Ah.” Kithr’s gaze said more words waited until they were away from the forest and its listening ears. Lyan didn’t need to hear Kithr to know he’d acted recklessly in insulting Nylas again.

  o0o

  Aside from crackling, shifting brambles, the forest remained still and silent. When the trees thinned, the brambles loosened their chokehold on the trail and released the party. The weary horses plodded, barely able to rouse relief at the less oppressive air. Patch said no farewell as the path closed behind them.

  Cailean rubbed bloodshot eyes. “Should we stop here?”

  “Not until we’re beyond the forest,” Kithr said. “Lyan. Too much light.”

  “Sorry.” At his bidding, the glow from Equinox faded away. Lyan blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust.

  Shadowstar continued walking, followed by the rest of the horses. The stallion moved just beyond the forest edge and stopped.

  Kithr glanced around. “Good enough. Get some rest. I’ll take watch.”

  “I shall take a turn at watch as well,” Yion said.

  Even in the filtered moonlight, Lyan could sense Kithr’s scowl. “I’ve rested. You haven’t. Sleep. Now.”

  Lyan smiled wearily. He had neither energy nor desire to argue with Kithr. He slid from Shadowstar’s back and steadied himself with Equinox. He considered pulling his bedding from the saddle, then decided retrieving it more effort than it was worth. He laid down near Shadowstar’s hooves and fell into exhausted sleep.

  Dark vines slithered through his dreams like poisonous serpents, blood dripping from savage thorns. Lyan struggled to hold them at bay, but could only protect a tiny pocket around himself. All around, voices called to him for help. Some he recognized, others he couldn’t identify. Lyan struggled to reach them, but no matter how he tried, he could never drive the attacking vines back far enough to find even one of the people he heard. And above everything else, he heard cold laughter, mocking his efforts.

  Lyan woke shuddering, muzzily slapping away dew-laden stalks of grass. The sun had just begun its slow creep into the sky. Wearine
ss still clung to him. Finding no vines attacked him, Lyan pushed up to sit.

  “Are you all right?” Kithr asked. Lyan saw his friend sitting a little ways from the horses, turning from his watch to look at Lyan.

  “Bad dream,” Lyan answered.

  Kithr nodded. “I guessed as much. You tossed a lot.”

  Lyan rubbed his eyes. “You’ve been up all night.”

  “I slept in Nylas’s camp. You still look ready to collapse.”

  “I’m not getting any more sleep now.” Lyan shivered.

  Kithr nodded. His gaze moved back to the land. “We shouldn’t linger here in any case. I think there’s a village near—I’ve seen a little smoke.” He smiled grimly. “If they’re that close, they’ll have no liking for elves and won’t care if we’re not with Nylas.”

  Lyan had nothing to say to that. Instead he asked, “Did Yion take a watch?”

  Kithr shook his head. “He didn’t argue when I told him to sleep. Have you noticed that at every camp, he paces the perimeter before he sleeps? He did that here too.”