I laughed, and she chuckled, and our conversation turned down another path that was not important, and which I cannot remember. But though I did not show it, my thoughts grew heavy, and they remained so for a long while.
Mayhap I could not stop thinking of her words because they echoed what I myself had come to fear.
The day came at last when Loren decided to leave Northwood. Xain had been growing more and more impatient the longer they delayed. At last he had had stern words with Loren, well outside the inn and away from the rest of us. I did not know what he said, but when he and Loren returned that night, Loren told us she meant to leave—the next day, if she could possibly manage it.
I have thought often, in the years since, what might have been different if she had made her decision just one day earlier. It is useless to consider such things, of course, and yet our minds will not let us be sensible at all times.
But just like that, our spell of inaction vanished. Mag broke into furious activity at once. That night, though Loren and her party went to bed early, Mag and Sten stayed up late into the night, listing what supplies the children would need, and where they could find them for the best price. The next morning, we went over the needed supplies with Loren and Xain. They agreed to all of it, and they gave us their heartfelt thanks for our help.
Mag waved a hand. “Do not be silly. We are old hands at long campaign roads. It would almost have been cruel of us not to share some of our expertise.”
“I will take care of procuring everything,” I told them. “I know the town, and if indeed you wish to leave before sundown, you will need to purchase everything quickly.”
“Mayhap I will come with you,” said Sten. “You shall have to carry a great deal, and your arms are scrawny.”
“With shoulders like yours, you could say that to anyone, oaf.” I slapped his broad arm. “But I would welcome your aid.”
“One of us should help,” said Loren quickly. “Let me send Chet.”
“You will need Chet’s help more than we will,” I said. “Be ready to go by the time we get back.”
Loren sighed. “Very well. Here.” She pulled a few gold weights from her purse and put them in my hand. “Will that be enough?”
“It will. Go see to the horses.” As soon as she had left, I turned to Mag and handed over the gold. “Sneak these into her saddlebags, will you?”
“Of course,” said Mag.
Sten and I went about our task quickly, and before long we had returned to the Lee Shore with food and many skins of water, as well as new blankets and bedrolls. With the help of Xain and the children, we packed these as well as we could and distributed them between the saddlebags of the horses. Before long, Loren and Chet came to eat with the rest of us.
“I have fetched as many provisions as I thought the horses could carry,” I told her. “It should see you at least halfway through Dorsea, though you shall need to stop for more supplies at some point.”
“We will stop as rarely as we can afford,” said Xain. “The fewer people who mark our passing, the better.”
“Once you are deep into Dorsea, I think the danger shall lessen. In the south their kingdom is preoccupied with the war, and in the north they remain as untroubled as ever at the goings-on of the nine lands.”
The boy, Gem, suddenly looked past my shoulder and frowned.
“Who is that man there?” asked Gem.
What could have told me that Gem had seen the first sign of a disaster that would shape not only his life, not only Loren’s, but mine, for years to come?
I turned and looked.
At the bar stood Len—Sten’s distant cousin I mentioned before. He and Mag spoke in hushed, hurried tones. Mag caught my eye and tossed her head at me. I went to her, and Loren came with me.
“Len, tell them,” said Mag.
Len pinched his nose and sniffed. “There is a man. He is wandering about the city, searching for a girl in a black cloak.”
You know, of course, that the Nightblade always wore a fine black cloak as one of her hallmarks. There was no doubt in our minds: this man, whoever he was, sought Loren. And I could think of no innocent reason why a stranger would come seeking for her here in Northwood.
Len read the reaction in our expressions. “Aye, that is what I thought when I heard,” he said. “Black cloak and remarkable green eyes, he asked for. Used that word, remarkable. Calls himself Rogan.”
Kaita followed Rogan through Northwood. Her fingers twitched, desiring to pull at her braid, but it was done up in a bun now. She and Rogan were not dressed in Shade colors. Kaita had on a dark skirt, easy to discard, over grey trousers and a fitted tunic of homespun white cloth with yellow trim. Rogan wore a plain outfit appropriate for a farmer or street vendor. But there was no hiding the sheer magnitude of him, nor the fact that, despite being unarmed, he looked and moved like a weapon. Everyone who saw him seemed afraid—as well they should have been.
“I know where the Lee Shore is,” said Kaita. “Let me go off and find it.”
“Not yet, please, Kaita,” said Rogan. “Before you strike, Loren must see me. That is very important.”
“Why?” growled Kaita. “And why did you not mention this when we were making our plans?”
“Our plan was for you to accompany me,” said Rogan. “I did not know you needed a reason, else I would have given it. Loren must see me because she must tell the High King and the Lord Prince about me.”
He kept speaking to passersby as they went, asking after a girl “with a black cloak and remarkable green eyes.” Everyone they spoke to claimed not to have seen her, but Kaita suspected many of them were lying. They looked upon Rogan with fear and distrust, and she had the feeling none of them would have revealed Loren’s location even if they knew it.
But of course, they did not truly need to ask where Loren was. She would be at the Lee Shore. Mag’s inn.
Kaita itched for the coming fight. She even considered slipping away from Rogan and going to the Lee Shore despite his wishes. The last time she had fought Mag, she had been foolish. She had tried to overpower the woman with sheer strength, but Mag was simply too fast. Kaita had learned. She was ready at last.
And then she saw us.
Mag and I had accompanied Loren into Northwood to see Rogan for ourselves. We came around a corner and froze stock still, our eyes fixed on him. I have told you already how fearsome and deadly he looked, and you must have heard stories of him before. So transfixed were we by the sight of him, we did not even notice Kaita standing at his elbow—not that I would have recognized her if I had seen her.
After a few moments, I pulled Loren back, and we retreated into the crowd again. Kaita jerked forwards, one hand outstretched and the other groping for Rogan’s arm.
“There!” she cried, pointing. “The girl is with them!”
Rogan’s gaze followed her outstretched finger. For one brief moment, he and Loren looked into each other’s eyes. And then we were gone.
“Perfect,” said Rogan, grinning. “She has seen me, and she knows the fear of my presence.”
“Then I am free to go after them?” said Kaita.
“Not yet.”
Kaita seized his arm and pulled him around to face her. “What do you mean? That is why I am here.”
“I said you were free to seek vengeance, as long as it does not interfere with the battle. I need you to fly west of here and order the attack. Then you may seek out Mag.”
She wanted to refuse him. She wanted to tell him to order the attack himself. But she knew, too, how much longer that would take, and what that might do to his plans. He had been there for her in some of the darkest times of her life. And despite her unfair words, he had never treated her as anything less than an equal. She could not refuse him this small service.
Still, she did not have to enjoy it. With a frustrated growl, she cast off her loose cloak. Then, right in the middle of the street, she turned. Her eyes filled with brilliant light, drawing the gaze of many
in the crowd. They recoiled as her body shrank, her well-fitted clothes sinking into her skin, which soon erupted in black feathers.
In just a moment, it was done. A raven launched itself from the ground at Rogan’s feet. Kaita wheeled once in the air. Rogan stood looking up at her, a grateful smile on his handsome features. The townsfolk around him looked somewhat disquieted, even offended, for of course it is not generally considered polite to so brazenly use magic in a public place. But they paid little more attention to Kaita than that.
Fools, she thought. Useless fools. They do not even see their own approaching doom.
She turned and flapped hard, shooting west through the sky.
I will bring it to them. And then I will burn down the Lee Shore and kill everyone within.
Mag, Loren, and I ran back to the inn as fast as we could. Loren and her friends had to leave immediately. I went with her to the stables to ready their horses, while Mag excused herself for a moment, taking Sten with her. Together they went to their room in the Lee Shore, though Sten followed his wife with a mystified expression.
“What is it?” he asked as she closed the door behind them both.
“Danger,” said Mag. She went to the bed and flipped it up on its side, scattering pillows across the floor. “I do not know how great the threat is, but from the fear in Albern’s voice, it is considerable. The children and the wizard must leave at once, and we are going to protect them.”
“What?” said Sten, frowning at the mess she had made. “Protect them from who?”
“I do not know that either, save that his name is Rogan.” Mag knelt, seizing the lock of a chest that had been concealed beneath the bed and fishing in her pocket for its key. “You heard Albern speak of the ones he fought in the mountains. I believe they have come here, though I do not know how many.”
Sten fell on his knees beside her and took her shoulders, turning her towards him. Mag paused in her hurried movements, looking him in the eye.
“You mean to fight,” he said.
“If need be,” said Mag.
“It has been a long time since you picked up a blade.”
She smiled. “I only wish I had time to go to the Reeve.”
His eyes darkened. “You promised,” he said. “You swore to me.”
“It was a joke. A poor one.” The words sounded weak even in her own ears.
Sten looked into her eyes a moment more, letting her see that he did not believe her. But then he squeezed her shoulders, and from his breast pocket he produced the key she had been searching for.
“You always leave it somewhere,” he grumbled.
“Thank you,” said Mag, taking the key. “Look after the inn.”
“Now that was a poor joke,” said Sten. “I am coming with you, of course.”
For the first time in a long while, Mag’s face filled with fear. “Sten, you should stay and—”
“I certainly will not,” said Sten. “If the children must be seen to safety, then I am coming, too.”
“Sten,” she pleaded. “If it comes to a fight, I would rather not have you involved.”
“You will have to bear it, unless you mean to stay here with me.”
“It will be more dangerous for me if I have to worry about you.”
Sten laughed, his shoulders shaking. “Do you jest? You and I both know you will be in no danger, whatever may happen.”
“But you will,” said Mag. “Sten, please—”
“Albern is going. That wizard is going. Even those children are riding by Loren’s side. I want to help, Mag. We belong to each other, but you do not own me.”
Mag’s fingers clenched around the key. But after a silent moment, she bowed her head. “Of course not,” she said. Her voice had become quite small and frightened—very different from her usual strong, matronly tone. “But if anything were to—”
The blast of a horn cut the air. Mag’s head jerked up, and Sten met her gaze. The horn faded away, to be replaced with the tolling of a bell.
“An attack,” said Sten.
“Yes,” said Mag.
“We should go.”
“Very well.”
Mag’s hands quivered slightly as she unlocked the chest and threw it open. Inside were two swords and two shields. She handed one each to Sten before taking up her own. Together they stood, and Mag gave her blade two quick swings.
“It has been some time,” she said.
“I wish it were twice as long,” replied Sten. “Quickly. The others will be in the stables.”
They rushed downstairs. On the threshold of the common room, Mag paused. The customers were stirring, looking around anxiously as the bell continued to toll. The front door of the inn burst open, revealing a woman whose face was a mask of panic.
“An army!” she cried. “An army has marched out of the Greatrocks! They have the west gate, and they are killing everyone they can get their hands on!”
A great tumult burst out in the room, terror rising like a tide. But even as everyone rose to their feet and looked about, trying to decide what to do, Mag raised two fingers to her lips and gave a sharp whistle. The common room fell silent as all eyes turned to her.
“Foes attack Northwood,” she said. “If you can fight, fetch your weapons. If you cannot, find a good place to hide yourselves and your families. But whatever you do, do it quickly, for they will not wait for you to decide. Go!”
The last word cracked like a whip. Her customers jerked where they stood and then began moving with purpose. Mag nodded to Sten, and they made their way to the stables.
When they threw open the wide double doors, Loren and I whirled, drawing our weapons. We relaxed as we recognized them—but then Loren balked at the sight of their swords and shields.
“The city is under siege,” said Mag. “We shall see you safely beyond the walls.”
“You should go back inside,” said Loren. “Wait until we have gone. They will pursue us beyond the city and leave Northwood in peace.”
“That I doubt,” said Mag. “There is already killing in the streets. And you have no time to convince me otherwise. Mount your horses. Quickly.”
Before Loren could argue, I took her arm and urged her towards the saddle of her horse, Midnight. “You are nearly a match for Mag in stubbornness, girl, but not quite. Heed her.”
Loren clearly did not like it, but she did as I asked. We rode out, with Mag and Sten on foot, walking to either side of Loren like an honor guard.
We hoped to reach the north gate before the Shades could, but that hope proved to be in vain. We could not avoid the fighting in the streets. Dread and horror came over me as I saw the Shades in battle against the people of Northwood. The attackers were trained soldiers, well armed and armored. The people of Northwood were hardy, but most of them fought with simple clubs and farm tools. Some few of them had old weapons, heirlooms of ancestors who had once fought in the king’s army, and there were a few constables among their number trying to organize a defense. But they never had a chance.
It pained me to see Northwood burn. I could only imagine how it felt to Mag and Sten. I watched them as we moved. Mag’s eyes darted everywhere, her sword arm twitching occasionally as if aching to be used. We had not yet entered battle, but I knew what would happen when we did. It filled me with the same feeling I had had on the Reeve—that curious mix of trepidation and excitement. But I knew Sten must be filled with dread of it.
Two spans away from the north gate, it happened at last. We came to an open square, and there we found the largest battle we had seen yet. The people of Northwood had assembled into some attempt at rank and file, and they outnumbered the Shades. But though some of the Shades had fallen in the fighting, their victims’ corpses outnumbered them three to one.
Mag stopped dead, and I felt the mounting tension inside her vanish. Sten saw it, too, and his jaw clenched as if with pain.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, rolling her shoulders.
When she opened
her eyes again, something was gone from inside them. It was as though a fire inside her had been hidden behind a heavy black curtain.
I had seen it too many times not to know what would happen next, and I will not lie to you: excitement filled me to see it. But looking into Sten’s eyes, I saw his heart break.
“No use,” said Mag. “It will be a fight.”
Her voice had become a chilling monotone, flat and lifeless. I could see the effect of it on the children, who had only known her for a few days, and had only seen her act motherly. They looked at her as though she were a stranger. I drew an arrow and spoke to Loren and the others.
“Stay behind Mag and Sten. Stay your blades unless you have no other choice, for they will try to seize them and pull you down. Now, charge!”
And Mag did. The battle-lust had taken her. She had seen her fellow citizens cut down without cause, without justice or mercy. Her town burned around her. It filled her with a rage that was white-hot and utterly merciless, and Mag intended to douse that rage in blood, forging it into a weapon against which no one could hope to stand.
The Shades did not see her coming until it was too late. In a heartbeat she had plunged into the thick of them. Even when they closed in and tried to surround her, they could not pierce her defense. Her shield moved just as quickly as her blade, blocking every attack. Then Sten was behind her, guarding her flanks even though she did not need it. He was a fine fighter in his own right, but he battled to survive, to keep the blades of his foes at bay. Mag fought to kill, to destroy, to cast her foes into the darkness from which there is no escape.
I played my part, of course, loosing arrows as fast as I could—and though I dislike boasting, that was quite fast indeed. I chose my targets carefully, bringing down Shades as close to Sten as I could while being careful not to endanger him. Had there been a hundred warriors like the three of us that day, I do not mind saying that Northwood might not have fallen.
The first fight was over quickly. The remaining Shades turned tail and ran. They had not planned to face determined fighters who knew their way around city warfare. Mag watched them go. She must have wanted to chase them, but the children still needed her protection.
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 6