Shadow Magic

by Patricia C. Wrede

Jordet was tall and slender, and though he was a young man his hair was white as silver. He had high cheekbones, and green eyes that tilted upward markedly under thin, straight brows. The resemblance between the Ward-Keeper and Alethia was so great that it was almost anticlimactic when he replied simply, “But Alethia and I are cousins. The Lady Isme is my father’s sister. Of course the curtain spell would not affect her; she is half Shee.”

  Practically on top of Jordet’s last sentence, the five Wyrds came piling through the door. “Ho, my friend, what about dinner for these weary travelers?” Anarmin sang out as he entered the room.

  “I think I might manage to scrape up enough for your friends,” Jordet said solemnly, “but I am afraid I cannot supply such a feast as you would like.” He smiled across the small Wyrd at Alethia. “You have discovered the prodigious Wyrd appetite, no doubt.”

  “That is no problem,” said Worrel from the doorway. With a triumphant gesture, he brought a large bag from under his cloak. This proved to contain the remains of lunch, and the Wyrds immediately set about laying it out on the table that occupied the center of the room.

  By the door of the cottage was a wooden bench, and the Wyrds moved it to the table to supplement the two chairs that were already there. A fire burned brightly at the north end of the room; from the large pot suspended over it came a rich, spicy smell that made Alethia’s mouth water.

  Suddenly realizing how hungry she was, Alethia stepped forward to help Rarn and Worrel ransack a tall cupboard for dishes. Jordet vanished through one of the two other doorways, and a moment later the tall Shee appeared with another chair. He then went to the fireplace and, after scorching his fingers moving the pot from over the flames, announced that dinner was ready. Jordet carried the pot to the table and began dishing up steaming bowls of stew while the others seated themselves.

  Alethia was burning with curiosity about her newly discovered cousin, but her stream of questions was overruled as being of secondary importance. “For,” Worrel pointed out, “Jordet’s advice may save our lives yet, while I cannot say the same of your knowing more of your relations.” Murn frowned, but Alethia had to admit the force of this argument.

  “Now,” said Jordet once the question of topic was settled, “about this mysterious errand of yours, Murn?” He passed a basket of rolls to Alethia and looked at the Wyrd woman inquiringly.

  “We carry one of the nine Talismans of Noron’ri to Eveleth along with a desire for answers to our questions,” Murn said.

  “A Talisman!” Jordet said. “How have you come by such a thing?”

  “I think we must begin with Alethia’s story, since it was taken from the body of one of her kidnappers,” Murn said. “You were notified, of course, of her kidnapping, but you will not know what has happened since then.”

  Jordet looked startled, then concerned. “I had heard nothing of this. There has been no messenger in the past four days. Continue.”

  The Wyrds looked at each other with small frowns, but Alethia launched into her story. Jordet listened without comment, though his eyebrows rose when she described the vision she had had while riding away with Tamsin. She finished with her arrival at Glen Wilding and looked across at the Wyrds expectantly.

  “Now, about your part in this?” Jordet asked.

  “Two nights ago a swift came to Glen Wilding, a messenger-bird such as you of Eveleth use, with a scroll tied to its leg,” Murn said. “The message bid us keep watch for Alethia of Brenn, kidnapped by Lithmern from her home that very evening. You say you have heard nothing of this?”

  “Nothing,” Jordet repeated, frowning.

  “There’s yet more mischief in this somewhere, then,” Anarmin said. “I doubt your people would have sent word to us and not to you.”

  “We can speculate later,” Murn told him. Turning back to Jordet, she went on, “When we read the message the swift had brought, we sent watchers to the western edges of the Wyrwood, where the kidnappers were most likely to pass. We had no thought then of why the Shee of Eveleth should look for the daughter of one of Alkyra’s Nobles.

  “At midmorning yesterday we felt that one of our Places of Sleep had been sprung, and some went there to remove the trespassers. When they arrived, the spell had been broken by a force of great power, but enough traces remained to show that the ones who had escaped were Lithmern.

  “We knew then that some powerful magic was at work to hide and protect those men, and we sent word to the searchers to bring out those skilled in finding and uncovering things hidden by magic. We came upon them just as Tamsin and Alethia encountered them, with what results you have already heard.

  “Dlasek led these two to Glen Wilding, while others pursued the survivors. Hesketh took the task of going over the bodies for some clue to their power. On most he found no more than might be expected, but when he came to the leader it was different. The body was dry and shriveled, as if it had been sucked empty, and by it…”

  “Body?” Alethia interrupted. “But I saw him! I mean, I couldn’t see him!” She turned to Jordet. “When the Lithmern kidnapped me I got a good look at him, only there wasn’t anything there. Just shadows.”

  Murn frowned, and Jordet’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “It could have been an illusion,” he said a little dubiously. “Yes, it must have been; untrained, you are hardly capable of detecting a spell of that kind.” He motioned for Murn to continue.

  “Hesketh found the Talisman lying beside the body,” Murn went on. “He brought it back to Glen Wilding, and the lore-masters identified it at once. Grathwol determined to send it to Eveleth where it may be nullified or kept safe, and these two with it if they would go willingly. They have chosen not to accompany us, and so our ways part here. Tomorrow we will leave for Eveleth, with your permission; I for one do not relish this errand overmuch, though it be necessary.”

  “The Talismans of Noron’ri can be of great power in the wrong hands,” Jordet replied. “Yet I think there are those in Eveleth who can bind it if they are not opposed. I must agree that this thing should go there as you say; still, I am not easy.”

  “Will you join us, then?” Anarmin inquired.

  “No, though, I could wish it. My duty is here,” replied the young Shee. “I will gladly give you directions and whatever else you may require, but I can accompany neither of you. I think you may—”

  The sentence was interrupted by a chilling cry.

  Chapter 8

  JORDET WAS ON HIS feet and out the door in an instant. Tamsin and the Wyrds reacted more slowly, and so they were behind him. Snatching a candle from the table, Alethia followed them out the door.

  She could barely see Tamsin pounding up the hill with drawn sword, his long legs putting him well ahead of the shorter Wyrds. Jordet had disappeared into the darkness. From the hilltop ahead of the running figures came a second freezing scream, and with it the sound of voices shouting.

  Alethia’s eyes strained toward the hilltop, but it was too dark to make out anything except dim shapes. She heard Jordet’s voice ring out commandingly, but she did not understand the words. Suddenly light flared on the hilltop, and Alethia blinked and nearly dropped the candle.

  Jordet stood, hand upraised, at the center of a bright sphere of white light. Behind him, Tamsin and Worrel stood shielding their eyes from the glare; Rarn, Anarmin, and Murn were only a few steps further away, with Shallan bringing up the rear. A little in front of Jordet, just beyond the sphere of light, she could just make out the figures of two men on horseback and a shorter shape that could only be another of the Wyrds.

  Between the newcomers and Jordet, clearly visible in the witchlight, stood a gray-black monster. It topped the men on horseback by a head, and it was completely hairless. It swung its head to find the source of this interference, and Alethia saw it wince away from the light. Its eyes were large and dark, after the fashion of night-things.

  The creature voiced another cry, giving Alethia a clear view of two-foot-long fangs that dropped from its wide mou
th. A long arm like a gnarled tree-branch swung toward Jordet, and she gasped. Something glistened wetly on the twisted claws.

  The Shee ignored the attack and spoke again. The thing in front of him screamed as if in pain, and shrank back. Jordet gestured once more, and with a final cry of hate and defiance, the thing turned and sprang back out into the darkness. The witchlight faded, and those who had stood frozen surged forward once again.

  Alethia heard a confused welter of voices from above, and then they were drawing nearer. A small puff of wind blew out the flame of the candle she held, but not before she had a glimpse of the new arrivals moving down the slope. With a glad cry, Alethia threw down the dead candle and ran forward to meet her brother Har.

  As she reached him, Har dismounted and smiled tiredly, then turned back toward his companion. For a moment, Alethia was hurt, not understanding; then she saw the other figure swaying in the saddle above Har. Comprehension dawned on her just as the man swayed a bit too far and fell into the waiting arms of Har and Tamsin.

  The two men stumbled toward the cottage with their burden and Alethia stepped out of the way. She took one quick look back to make sure that one of the Wyrds had taken charge of the horses and ponies, and followed into the house. Behind her came the other Wyrds in a small mob, and the last one in the door was Jordet himself. He looked white and tired, and he sank almost immediately into a chair by the table and covered his face with his hands.

  Alethia hardly noticed the background activity. By the light of the lamps in the front room she could see that the man Har and Tamsin supported was Maurin. As they helped him to the bench, Alethia saw that her brother’s sleeve was stained red. She started, then saw that Har was not wounded after all; his sleeve had been stained as he helped his friend.

  Curiously, the knowledge that the blood was not her brother’s own did not bring the relief she would have expected. Automatically, she moved toward the fire, to the kettle of water Jordet had put on for tea after supper. She grabbed a towel hanging next to the fire to protect her hands from the hot iron handle and swung the support out so she could reach the kettle. As she brought it carefully to the table, she said, “Jordet, do you have any bandages?”

  Jordet looked up and shook his head numbly.

  “We will have to use something else then,” Alethia said. She looked around the room, and her eye fell on a pile of folded linen on top of the cupboard. “Those napkins?”

  The Shee nodded wearily, and Tamsin rose and brought them to her. She set him to work tearing them into useable strips, while she herself knelt and began carefully cutting the stained and tattered remnants of Maurin’s shirt away from his side.

  Her self-appointed task was interrupted almost immediately by the patient himself, who opened his eyes at that moment. “Alethia! This is no fit job for you,” Maurin protested. He pulled away, but exhaustion and loss of blood had taken their toll, and he nearly toppled over.

  “Who’s to do it if I don’t?” Alethia demanded, looking up. “Caring for a wounded man is fit enough task for a soldier’s daughter! Hold still; you’ll never stop bleeding if you keep moving around like that.”

  “Har…” Maurin’s head turned to him for support.

  Har shrugged. “She’s right. And she is experienced. There are houses in Brenn where the healers take the wounded guards; they’re always shorthanded and Alethia goes there with Mother all the time.” He reached for one of the napkins.

  “Leave that to Tamsin,” Alethia said. “You go eat, and then get some rest. You look exhausted.”

  “All right,” Har replied meekly, and moved around to the other side of the table. She watched long enough to see him sit down and help himself to the lukewarm stew, then went back to her work.

  The creature’s claws had left four ragged gashes that cut almost to the ribs on Maurin’s left side. Cleaning the torn flesh and easing it back into place without doing further injury was a delicate business, and took all her concentration. As she finished the task, a light-furred hand reached over her shoulder, holding a thin needle threaded with gut. “A neat job,” Rarn commented as Alethia took the needle. “I’ll ready the bedroom for him.”

  Alethia nodded. Carefully, she stitched the wounds closed, then placed a pad over them and began winding strips of linen around Maurin’s ribs to hold it in position. She found herself wishing she had one of her mother’s salves with her; if the torn muscle scarred badly, it might affect Maurin’s ability to handle a shield in battle. “That’s the best I can do now,” she said at last. “Tamsin, if you’ll help him to the bedroom—”

  Maurin’s eyes flew open. “I can walk without your help!” he snarled at Tamsin. Cheeks flushed, he hauled himself to his feet and swayed toward the bedroom doorway.

  Tamsin started to follow, but Alethia waved him back. She had handled irritable patients before, and if the Trader objected to Tamsin’s help, the simplest course was to dispense with it until it was truly needed. Frowning, Alethia followed Maurin out of the main room.

  Har looked after his sister with a frown that mirrored hers, but he had experience enough to know he would not be welcome in the sickroom. When the bedroom door closed behind her, he turned to find Jordet watching him. Har forced a smile. “I fear we put a strain upon your hospitality, sir,” he said.

  “Indeed not. I have not seen so much excitement in months,” Jordet replied. “Besides it is entirely proper for kin to claim shelter.”

  Har felt his jaw drop. “Kin?”

  “We are related through your mother, the Lady Isme. Can you look on me and doubt it? In any case, my function here is the warding of this border. How could I see you so beset and not offer my help?”

  “What was that thing, anyway?” Har asked, suppressing a reminiscent shudder.

  “It was a voll, a wight of the mountains. I have not seen a voll since my childhood, when my father killed one, and that one was smaller than the one we saw tonight.” Jordet sighed. “It took nearly all my strength just to drive it away. It is a good thing that you were here, where I could help you.”

  “I am not sure of that,” said Murn’s voice behind him.

  “What do you mean?” asked Jordet, turning to her.

  “I think that if we had not come here, you would not have needed to weary yourself so dangerously against that wight, and perhaps this other one would not be hurt,” Murn replied. “Nay, do not start! I have only a suspicion, and no clear ideas. But something opposes us; Krowlan brings news of strange stirrings in the forest ever since we left this morning, and none of us believe it was an accident that you were not informed of Alethia’s kidnapping.”

  “Perhaps you are right,” Jordet said. “But what then?”

  Murn shrugged. “Anarmin and Krowlan will return to Glen Wilding this evening; you have not room for so many here.”

  “Is it really safe for them to travel?” the minstrel asked. “After seeing what that thing can do…” He nodded in the direction of the bedroom.

  “It can do far worse than you have seen, for volls can wield magic as well as force,” Jordet told him. “And their wounds are often poisoned. They usually do not come this far out of the mountains; I was surprised to see this one. But it will not remain nearby once it has been defeated. It is not their way.”

  Har glanced anxiously toward the closed door of the room where Alethia and Rarn were closeted with Maurin. Murn smiled reassuringly. “Do not fear for your friend,” she said. “Rarn has a great deal of talent in healing. As for the others, it is probably safer for them to travel now than later. Lesser evils will have fled the voll, and as Jordet said, the voll has now gone as well.”

  “And what of greater evils?” Tamsin muttered.

  Before anyone could respond, the bedroom door opened and Rarn emerged. Har gave her a questioning look, and she said, “Your friend is sleeping.” She stood for a moment surveying the party, then put her hands on her hips. “As the rest of you should also be! I hardly need another patient on my hands, what with
only Alethia to help. And another is what I’ll have if you don’t get some sleep after this evening’s work.” She glared indignantly at Jordet and Har.

  “Oh, and I thought you were the one helping Alethia,” murmured Worrel provocatively.

  “Indeed I was, and would you have me let her wear herself out doing it all alone?” she snapped back. “Not that you thought of any such thing; just look at the way you’ve kept these two sitting with your chatter, when it is as plain as the Tree they’re both exhausted. You’d do better to make yourselves useful clearing up,” she finished with a sweeping gesture that included Worrel, Tamsin, and the cluttered table.

  “There’s no reason—” Jordet began.

  “I’m used to long—” Har started at the same time.

  “No excuses,” Rarn said. “You’ve finished your meal; now sleep. There will be plenty of time for talk in the morning.”

  Now that she had reminded him, Har was all too aware of just how tired he was, so he did not protest again. Feeling a little foolish, he allowed Rarn to shepherd him along with Jordet into the second bedroom. He was barely aware of Jordet handing him a spare blanket and some bedding to spread on the floor, and he fell asleep the moment he lay down.

  By morning, however, it was clear to Har and everyone else that they would not be setting out that day. Maurin’s wounds had indeed been poisoned, and he was delirious with fever. Twice during the night Alethia had been obliged to summon Tamsin and Har to help keep him in bed, for he insisted that they were under attack by Lithmern and tried to get up to fight them.

  The Wyrds could not delay their departure. After consulting with Jordet, Murn agreed to allow Worrel and Rarn to remain while she and Shallan went on to Eveleth with the Talisman.

  “I apologize for abandoning you,” she told Alethia and Har, “but getting the Talisman safely to Eveleth must be my first concern.”

  “I should think so!” Alethia said with a shudder, and Har could only nod in acceptance, though privately he would have preferred not to split up the little group.