I finished pretending to dig through her saddlebags and returned to my horse. “And I will have them answer for other things as well.”
We mounted again and rode through the western gate, down the long stone ramp into the valley. I found no good excuse to look back at the satyrs shadowing us, but every so often I would hear the soft clatter of hooves on the rocks high above. They were still there.
I knew we had to lure them into open lands, as far from any slopes as possible. Satyrs can nearly fly up a mountainside, and they could rain arrows down on us. But on open ground, they were no more nimble than a human. Only there would we have any chance of taking one of them alive.
To tell the truth, and despite my words to Mag, I found myself filled with anger that almost defied reason. Yes, the satyrs had only acted upon the directions of their leaders. But they had still nearly gotten me killed, along with all of my friends. That was not easy to forgive, though I was trying. After all, satyrs are not quite beasts, but neither are they quite human.
Not far from the bottom of the stone ramp was a small cluster of trees, a little wood that bent and huddled over the thin stream that ran through the middle of the valley. I led Mag towards it. The satyrs would think we were merely watering ourselves and the horses. But if they tried to approach us among the trees, we would be able to take them by surprise.
Though it was not very late in the day, the sun had already hidden itself behind the tips of the western mountains above. Dismounting, we ducked in among the shadows of the trunks, quickly losing ourselves among the trees. Once we were a good distance in, I stopped Mag and drew her against the side of an old beech tree. Together we looked back in the direction we had come.
There were the satyrs. They were making an attempt at stealth, but they were not used to it on such open terrain. They approached the trees warily, darting between brush and rocks with their awkward, loping gait. I counted six of them. Not an inconsiderable group, but against Mag and me they stood little chance.
“Let us tether the horses,” I said. “We do not want them to run off during the fight.” The beasts were already nickering nervously, for the satyrs had approached from upwind. My gelding eyed me as though trying to plan the right time to bolt.
We lashed the horses to a tree deeper in the wood and then returned to the beech tree. The satyrs were creeping between the trunks now, heads darting nervously back and forth in search of us. I had my bow in hand, and Mag had her spear and shield. We waited in total silence, listening as the creatures came closer.
Mag nudged me with her spear, and we sprang.
I fired two arrows in quick succession. One satyr went down with a shaft in its leg, another with fletching sticking out of its arm. Mag swung her spear in an arc, slamming the flat side of the spearhead into the temple of a third. It fell with a pathetic bleat. The other creatures screamed in fear, but they did not flee. They leaped towards us, flailing with clubs and short stone axes.
I got off one more shot, and another satyr fell with an arrow in its shoulder. Then they were too close, and I had to draw my sword. But there were only two left, and Mag and I made quick work of them. Mag blocked one blow with her shield before piercing her foe’s thigh with her spear. I backed up step by step, warding off my foe’s club with wide sweeps of my sword, until Mag came around behind her and slammed her shield into the back of the creature’s head. It fell to the ground, senseless.
Looking up, I saw the other satyrs fleeing for their lives. The ones with leg wounds limped away, while the ones with maimed arms fled in great, bounding leaps. The first satyr Mag had downed had regained its senses, and it stumbled out of the woods, swaying as if drunk. That left only the creature on the ground before us now.
“Rope,” said Mag. I nodded and went to my gelding, fetching a coil from one of the saddlebags.
Long before the satyr awoke, we had her bound to a tree a few paces from the river. We had set up a campsite for the night. When the sun fell, we started a small fire. I knew its light might be visible through the trees, but that worried me little. The satyrs were few in this part of the mountains, and they seemed to be even fewer since the Shades had passed through.
After a while our captive stirred, her head lolling back and forth before snapping up. One of her horns had a large chip near the top of its curve. She bleated angrily at us, but she winced with pain even as she did it.
“Hello,” I said. “We have some questions.”
“Die, human,” hissed the satyr.
“No, I am afraid that is not the answer we are looking for,” I said. “A weremage passed through these mountains, leading the humans who fled west from Northwood. What do you know of her?”
The satyr looked away. “I know nothing of what you speak.”
“Come now,” I said. “You speak the human tongue well. That tells me you are wise. Surely you have heard which way she and her friends went.”
“I know better than to speak to you.” The satyr tried to spit at me, but the gobbet fell short, landing on the ground by my feet.
“Let us start with something simpler,” I said. “What is your name?”
She glared at me and said nothing.
“I shall tell you ours, if you wish,” I said. “This is Mag. And I am Albern, of the family Telfer.”
She only scowled harder. “I know your name, human. You tricked Tiglak. You made him betray us.”
“I did no such thing,” I replied. “I spared Tiglak’s life in exchange for safe passage.”
“He had no right,” said the satyr. “The elders punished him for his cowardice.”
That made me angry. I had known Tiglak for a long time. I am afraid I cannot say we were friends, but I respected him, and I like to think he respected me.
“He was both brave and honorable,” I said. “Yet he knew I could kill him if I wished, and he hoped his elders might be more merciful. He could have fled into the mountains in shame, but he returned, courageously, and faced their judgement. It is not my fault, nor his, that they were cruel in that judgement. I ask again: what is your name?”
She tossed her head, but some of the fury in her eyes had died. I guessed that she, too, thought better of Tiglak than she was trying to lead us to believe. “Greto,” she said at last.
“Greto,” I said. “Do you see? That was not so hard.”
“Now, Greto,” said Mag. “As we have said, we require more answers. What can you tell us about the weremage?”
Greto’s eyes burned with fury. “Your ugly human words are meaningless.”
“Ah, I forgot,” I said. “A weremage is a shape-changer. A human wizard who can take other forms.”
“Pah,” said Greto. “Your wizards are nothing to us. I know nothing of any skin-shifter.”
“What of the Shades?” said Mag. “Which way did they go?”
Greto’s dumbfounded look was too perfect to be false. “The what?”
“The humans who wear blue and grey,” I said. “They are called Shades, and they passed through the mountains. Where did they go?”
A hunted look came over Greto’s face, and she dropped her gaze to the ground. “I do not know.”
“You are an awful liar,” observed Mag. She lifted her spear and placed the tip gently on Greto’s shoulder. “I thought we were past the point where you would try to deceive us.”
Another snarl broke out on Greto’s face, but she relented. “They went north through the mountains. We did not follow them past the next bend in the valley floor. But a small party of them left the others.”
“And went where?” I said.
“West, towards our home,” said Greto.
Mag and I tensed in the same instant. “Are they still there?” said Mag. “Are they there now?”
“I have been away for several days,” said Greto, sounding like nothing so much as a plaintive child. “I do not know.”
“Was there a woman with them?” said Mag. “Skin the color of a satyr horn, and black braided hair?”
Greto sneered. “All humans look like humans to—”
Faster than blinking, Mag turned the spear so that the edge of it was pressed to Greto’s throat.
“Yes!” cried Greto. “Yes, the woman went west, into our lands!”
“Why would she go there?” I asked. “I know from experience that you are not kind to trespassers.”
“Sometimes they—the Shades—they visit our elders. They speak with them, delivering messages and directions from the Lord.”
“Is that where the weremage is going?”
“I do not know.” Greto’s eyes widened as Mag pushed the spearpoint forwards, just a hair. “I do not know! I swear it! She may be!” she bleated.
Mag dropped the spearpoint to the ground. Greto relaxed for a moment.
“My apologies,” said Mag.
Greto looked confused until Mag brought the butt of the spear spinning around and slammed it into the satyr’s face. Her head crashed back against the tree with a thud and then lolled forwards.
“West,” I said.
“Yes,” said Mag.
“The western mountains are deep in satyr territory—in the very heart of their home.”
Mag shrugged. “We have already said we will march into the middle of the Shades’ forces if need be. The satyrs cannot be worse.”
“They are not more fearsome,” I said with a sigh. “But neither do they bear as much blame as the Shades for what has befallen us. I hope you will bear that in mind.”
Her expression softened. “Of course I will. And I do not think they bear any great love for our enemies. If we remove the Shades from their homeland, they may even be grateful.”
I gave a short, barking laugh. “You have much to learn about satyrs. If the weremage aims to speak with them, she will seek out their elders. Humans are forbidden from even seeing elders, on pain of death.”
“Yet it seems the Shades visit them on occasion.”
“Traditions may change,” I said with a shrug. “Yet I doubt we will be afforded the same courtesy. We should be ready for a fight.”
She grinned. “Have you ever known me to be otherwise? We should rest now and set off early tomorrow. I will take the first watch.”
She went to the edge of the camp and sat on a low, moss-covered rock there. I went to unfurl my bedroll, trepidation in my heart. Mag was a peerless warrior, but we meant to march straight into the homes of creatures who had little love for us. I feared that if things went horribly wrong, even Mag’s considerable skills might not be enough to keep her alive. And if the Uncut Lady could not escape her doom, what hope did I have to save her?
The next day, Kaita rode west out of the Greatrocks with her party of six Shades. In the mountains’ western foothills, she stopped her horse and turned to the soldiers accompanying her.
“And now we part,” she said. “Once you have finished with the satyrs, return to the Watcher. You should find Tagata there, for Rogan will be in Dorsea by now.”
“Very well,” said Ertu, his beard twitching as he frowned. “And can you make the journey to Lan Shui unaided?”
“You need not worry for me,” said Kaita.
“Yet I may if I wish,” said Ertu. “That demon woman from Northwood is chasing you, not us.”
“I can look after myself,” said Kaita.
“I hope that is true,” said Ertu. He extended a hand. Kaita grasped his wrist firmly, and they shook. “Fare well, until we meet again. Until life ends.”
“Until life ends.”
He turned and rode away, and the rest of the Shades accompanied him. Kaita did not ride on, but sat watching them for a moment. She had joined the Shades many years ago. She loved Rogan, as he loved her. But Rogan’s affection extended to all who wore the deathly livery, and in that he was different from Kaita. The Shadeborn, like Tagata—and Trisken, death keep him—were one thing. But Kaita could never muster any great love for the rank and file soldiers like the ones riding away now, half of whom served for love of coin and not from belief.
Yet Ertu believed. Yet Kaita disdained him, and she did not know why.
She sighed as the last blue cloak vanished around a fold in the land. Turning her horse, she struck out for Lan Shui. She had to reach it before nightfall, or she would lose her horse.
Lan Shui is no great burg. A mere pinpoint on a map compared to Bertram farther west, and not even so big as Northwood used to be. It sits near the place where the Blackwind River comes tumbling out of the Greatrocks. There are many beautiful falls in that area, and it gives Lan Shui a chilled and often-misted air—which is excellent for tales and for atmosphere, but horrible for wooden buildings, which often warp and rot. “Rich as a carpenter in Lan Shui” was once a saying in those parts, and it might still be.
Despite its proximity to Bertram, which is the second-largest city in Dorsea and was once that kingdom’s capital, Lan Shui is a quiet, uneventful place, for it is bordered on the west by a sharp and insurmountable spur in the land, as though the Greatrocks were kicking up one last time before letting the earth lie flat. That spur cannot be traveled across, but must be ridden around, and that adds half a week to any journey between Lan Shui and the King’s road.
In other words, it is the perfect sort of town for one to go to when they wish to avoid being found.
Kaita approached in the afternoon, careful to wait out of sight in a small wood just visible from the town. Soon a young man, hardly more than a boy, came to her amid the trees. He had a sallow face and bulging eyes.
“You are she?”
“If by ‘she’ you mean a servant of our father, then yes,” said Kaita. “Are you not supposed to ask me for a password?”
He avoided her gaze. “I … forgot it.”
“Fool,” spat Kaita. “What if I were one of our enemies? You still do not know that I am not. We do not play at some child’s game.”
“Of course,” mumbled the boy. “I am sorry.”
Her nostrils flared. “Sorry” would not save them from the King’s law if it sniffed them out in this town. “I care little for your apologies. Can you get me within the walls?”
The boy ducked his head. “I can. No one will see you. My name is Pantu, by the way.”
“I do not remember asking for your name. Get moving.”
He took the reins of her horse and set off, and Kaita followed. First he took her to a part of the eastern wall that was out of sight of any gate, and then he led her along it until they reached the south entrance. No guards stood there to watch them enter.
“That was simple,” said Kaita. “I could have done it myself.”
“The constables and guards are much preoccupied during the day,” said Pantu. His voice grew hushed as he continued. “And besides, only the night is dangerous now.”
Kaita gave a grim smile.
They moved wordlessly after that, passing through the streets until they reached an old, abandoned-looking building near the center of the town. A woman came to take their horses without having to be called. After they made sure no one was nearby to see, Kaita followed Pantu into the home, where they both threw back their hoods.
The front room was wide and low. In the back wall was set a stone hearth with no fire, and around it sat three people in thick wooden chairs. They turned as one to see Kaita and her companion standing in the doorway, and all three of them shot to their feet at once. One of them, a brawny woman with her grey hair in a braid, took a step forwards and looked at Kaita with joy.
“Kaita,” she said. “At last.”
“Happy to see me, Dellek?” said Kaita, giving her a wry smile.
“Always.” Dellek came and embraced her. “Ever since we received word you were coming, I have eagerly awaited your arrival. Some of us—including myself—wanted very much to join the rest of you in Northwood.”
“There were more than enough of us to do what needed to be done,” said Kaita. “Now, let me see how you have progressed in your work for our father.”
&nb
sp; Dellek nodded and led her deeper into the house. In the back room, she opened the secret door, revealing a dank stone staircase leading into the earth. After Dellek lit a torch, Kaita followed her down the steps. Dellek held the torch high as they descended, and Kaita kept a hand on the wall to steady herself. The stone beneath her feet was slippery.
A wide chamber opened up before them. The walls had been formed by alchemists, and were lined with smooth ridges. High above, the wooden ceiling looked incredibly fragile compared to the thick rock walls, and between the boards, minute shafts of sunlight pierced the shadows, occasionally blocked as someone above walked across them.
But Kaita’s gaze was drawn immediately to the massive cauldron in the center of the room. It was more than two paces across, and shallow, and a black liquid bubbled within it, hardly illuminated by the many torches on the walls. Three Shades stood in the room, tending the cauldron nervously, careful not to touch it. They looked briefly up at the newcomers, but when Dellek gave them a nod, they returned to their tasks.
Kaita could feel the power emanating from the room. The smell was heady, powerful, intoxicating—even a bit overwhelming. For an instant, she had the mad desire to cup her hands and drink of the liquid. The magic within her bristled, sensing the energy that saturated the air. It filled her with exhilaration, anxiety, and anger in equal measure.
She knelt to look beneath the cauldron. The flames were well tended and did not quite reach the iron bottom of the cauldron. She could feel the vicious heat of them, though they were small and she was well over a pace away. Standing, she turned to Dellek.
“You are being wary not to stoke the flames too high?”
“Of course,” said Dellek.
“And it is having the desired effect?”
Dellek gave a grim smile and tossed her grey braid back over her shoulder. “Indeed, it is far more effective than we had dreamed it would be.”
“Very well,” said Kaita. “Let us return upstairs. I must speak with you privately.”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 12