He pursed his lips. “Yes?”
“We told you of our friends who rode from Northwood,” I said. “The ones who delivered word of the Shades to the High King.”
Dryleaf went very still. His sightless eyes brimmed with tears.
“It was Loren,” said Mag. “And Chet was with her.”
His jaw quivered as the tears spilled down his cheeks. When he spoke, his voice had dropped to a whisper.
“Loren is alive?”
We told him everything. Everything we knew, that is, which was not, in fact, everything there was to know. Loren had told me only bits and pieces of what had happened on the long road between her departure from the Birchwood and our meeting in Strapa. But I told Dryleaf everything that had happened after that, and he asked me many questions, so that no detail was missed. He went very pale when we told him of the attack on Northwood, and gave a great sigh of relief when we told him how Loren had escaped the fighting. That was the end of what we had seen, and as my tale subsided, Dryleaf asked me another question.
“Her parents,” he said. “Do you know what became of them?”
“We do not,” said Mag. “She was not very willing to speak about her home, or her past.”
Dryleaf sighed. “No, I suppose she would not have been. Something evil lurked in their souls, and they took it out on their only daughter. Theirs was always a house of secrets—secrets, and pain. I feared that if she remained in that home, she would not survive it.”
“You should be happy, then,” said Mag. “She escaped, and if I know anything about her, she will never again fall under their sway.”
“No,” said Dryleaf. “That seems clear. And my heart sings to know that Chet is with her now. He has loved her for a long time, and though I suspect Loren never felt quite the same way—or at least not to the same degree—it will be good for her to have a reminder that not everything in her past came from suffering.”
“And she has the children as well,” I said. “She may not have known them as long as Chet, but they are a great source of comfort to her. She thinks she protects them, and I suppose she does. But they are better for her than she realizes.”
“Good, good,” said Dryleaf. “It sounds as though she went through many hardships on her road—and she may still face hardship even now. But as long as she has Chet, I am confident she will be well cared for.”
“How did you first meet Loren, anyway?” said Mag. “Why did you keep returning to the Birchwood to see her?”
Dryleaf tilted his head. “You have met her yourself. You know how remarkable she is. She was always that way, and I knew she could do great things, if she could only escape her horrible home. It was always something that just seemed to happen to me: finding the lonely and the lost, and trying to make their lives somewhat easier, if it was in my power to do so. Loren was not the only one, though she was a particularly urgent case. I knew an orphan girl in Cabrus, who has run away now, and is lost in the nine kingdoms. A merchant boy in Idris, who finally broke his family’s shackles and lives on his own now. A child of nobility in Hedgemond, who needed more love than her mother felt she could spare. She is a Mystic now, and a fine officer of that order.”
My expression darkened, and I picked at a loose thread on my sleeve. I was not from Hedgemond, of course, but Dryleaf’s words would have been most apt for my own mother.
“But these others had already managed to escape, sometimes with my help, sometimes on their own. Loren was the last. She never knew me as Dryleaf, by the by. In the Birchwood, they call me Bracken. But after Loren, I had thought I would be done. My bones were already getting too old for travel, and the Birchwood seemed a good place to live out the end of one’s life. I had only just resigned myself to do so in Lan Shui instead, when you arrived.”
“But Dryleaf,” said Mag. “Or, wait. Should we call you Bracken?”
He waved a hand. “No, no. One name is as good as another after all these years, and I will not say the name my parents gave me, for there is a reason I left it behind so long ago.”
“Very well,” said Mag. “My question is: what now? You know Loren was making for the Seat, and you are free from Lan Shui. Do you wish to run off and find her?”
“We could make arrangements,” I said.
Dryleaf settled deeper into his chair and sighed. “I will not lie to you: I greatly wish to go. But no. For now, at least, it is enough for me to know that she escaped her parents. I am content to remain with you for a while yet.” His lips curled in a smile. “You may need my help, after all. And besides, it seems likely that you shall cross paths with Loren again, and mayhap sooner than later.”
“That is my wish,” I said.
“Then until that day,” said Dryleaf, “I will happily ride by your side, if you will continue to have me. But wait!” Suddenly his face lit up, and he gave a broad grin. “We must write her at once.”
I blinked. “Write her?”
“Why not?” he said. “We know where she is.”
I looked to Mag. Writing to Loren had not even crossed our mind on all the long road since Northwood—but then, we had no idea that she had succeeded in her mission. And with that came a chilling thought. “Mag,” I said quietly. “She thinks we are dead. She must.”
“Sky above,” breathed Mag.
“And I doubt she thinks I am still breathing,” said Dryleaf. “Had I thought her parents would let her read a letter, I would have written one long ago. As far as she knows, I simply disappeared.”
That settled it. We asked one of the stronghold’s servants for paper, quill, and ink. Together we sat down and drafted a letter, which Mag rendered in a firm hand. When we were done, I folded the parchment up and handed it to Dryleaf.
“I will see to the arrangements tomorrow, while the two of you are off on your adventure,” he said. “Someone should be willing to walk me to the constables’ station to send it off.”
“Thank you,” I said. “I only wish I could see her face when she reads it.”
“As do I,” chuckled Dryleaf, “though that chance passed long ago.”
“At least she will know we are alive,” I said. “And if we should meet her upon the road, and you wish to go with her then, no one will begrudge you that—least of all me.”
Mag gave me a careful look as I said it. I thought she must be wondering if I, too, would ride off with Loren, were I given the chance.
But now it was time for bed. We had spoken a good long while into the night, and we had to rise early for tomorrow’s hunt. I helped Dryleaf to his bed and retired to my own room, undressing by moonslight.
Sky above, let our hunt end tomorrow, I thought to myself. Let it be over, so that we can find the children again, and see that they are safe.
But of course, you know enough about the Necromancer’s War to know my hopes were in vain. And even today, part of me wishes I had not waited.
One of Lord Matara’s servants awoke us before dawn. Mag and I left Dryleaf asleep as we roused and dressed ourselves and then made our way out of the stronghold. The moment we set foot in the courtyard outside the keep, Oku came dashing up to us, yipping in excitement. I knelt and scratched him behind the ears.
“Did you sleep well, boy?” I said. “I hope so. We have a long journey ahead of us.”
Oku licked my fingers and trotted over to Mag, sniffing at her leg. I looked studiously away so that she could pat his head and think I had not noticed.
Tuhin soon joined us, leading a horse by the reins. Two stablehands followed, bringing Foolhoof for me and Mist for Mag. We mounted and rode through the streets of the city. Tuhin was silent as we went, and I thought they might still be ridding themself of the last vestiges of sleep. Yet they seemed alert and watchful, peering down each street as we went, though there was no one around. They even looked up into the sky. It struck me that they were likely looking for any sign that the weremage was stalking us.
Once we had left the city through the eastern gate and were a good distance away from the wal
l, I finally spoke. “Did you see any sign of pursuit?”
“No,” said Tuhin. “But I am always cautious when going on an expedition, especially when pursuing a wizard. They are not to be underestimated, especially weremages.”
“I have fallen out of such habits on our long road,” I said, “but I will try to resume them. I have grown nearly as lazy as Chao.” I looked over at her. “Remind me never to grow so inattentive again.”
“But what if I am too lazy to do so?” said Mag.
Tuhin smirked. “You can rest easily, Kanohari,” they said. “I saw no one paying us any undue attention.”
“That is a relief,” said Mag. “Wake me if you see any signs of danger. I will be dozing in my saddle, as it seems is my wont.”
“Oh, be silent,” I grumbled, “or we will make you ride at the head of the party.”
“But I do not want to,” said Mag, giving an exaggerated frown. She reached to her belt and pulled out a copper sliver. “We should flip for it and let fate decide. Tuhin, have you ever heard of latrine duty?”
“Do not answer that,” I said quickly, even as Tuhin opened their mouth to answer.
Tuhin shook their head, still smiling, and took the lead. They made their way down the same eastern road we had taken to reach Victon’s estate, but they soon turned north, on a smaller road that curved east after a time, wrapping around the foot of the mountain.
Dawn broke at last, and we increased our pace now that we did not have to worry about striking a rock or sudden pit in the dark. Though we traveled east, the sun did not immediately fly into our eyes, for we had entered a series of low but steep hills that thrust up around the road on both sides. The road grew faint, but it still had very clear edges. I could tell that it had once been well-tended, and mayhap paved with stone.
And then I noticed the tracks.
“Tuhin,” I called out.
“I see them,” they said, pulling their horse to a halt. Mag and I stopped as well.
“Would anyone else have a good reason to use this road?”
“Not much of one,” said Tuhin. “There is no good hunting this way, and there are no dwellings at all.”
Mag frowned at me. “What in the dark are the two of you talking about?”
“Signs of others,” I said, pointing at the road.
She shook her head. “I see nothing.”
“What did I tell you?” I said, giving Tuhin an exaggerated shrug. “Lazy.”
While Tuhin hid a laugh, Mag nudged her horse closer and punched me hard in the arm. I gave her an easy smile.
There were not all that many—around a dozen distinct trails that I could make out. They could easily have been made by the same person going back and forth several times. I saw no hoofprints, though if someone wished to approach Opara on horseback, they would likely have looped around and approached by the north road.
“We carry on,” said Tuhin. “But we should abandon the road. I wonder if we should leave the horses.”
“Though it is tempting,” I said, frowning down at Foolhoof’s flattened ears, “I would rather draw closer first. How far away is this stronghold?”
“Another two hours if we press the horses, mayhap three or four on foot,” said Tuhin.
“Then let us ride for another hour, off the road, before we leave our mounts.”
“A fair plan,” said Tuhin, and they turned their horse at once, walking off the road and into the wild.
We wound our way through the dips between the hills, slower now without the bridges that crossed shallow cracks in the land, or the rises that had been leveled to accommodate it. Tuhin led us skillfully, though it was clear they had not been here for some time. After a while, the land dipped into a gentle gorge, through which ran a narrow stream with easy banks. The land began a steep climb after we crested the other side. Soon we came upon a broken hinterland, with steep cliffs that threatened to drop us a span or more to the ground below. All around us were piles of black rock, pitted and pockmarked, signs of the mountain’s ancient fury.
“This is where I think we should leave the horses,” said Tuhin. “They will be no faster than we will be on foot, especially on the fireglass.”
Mag arched an eyebrow. “Fireglass?”
I pointed to the black rock. “Leavings of the mountain. Lava after it cools off.”
“Ah,” said Mag, arching an eyebrow. “The mountain is not going to drop its leavings on us, is it? I am not fond of dangers against which I have little power.”
“Not every danger can be staved off with a spear,” I told her, slipping down from the saddle. “Worry not, wanderer. We will not let the mountain’s rage consume you.”
Tuhin chuckled and waved a dismissive hand towards Tahumaunga. “It is only a grumpy old man these days. You are lucky we do not wander at its feet during the time of its youth, when the tales say it was as wrathful as a dragon.”
We found a small cluster of trees well away from the fireglass, with brilliant green turf springing up on the ground all around. Oku danced about as we dismounted and brought the horses together. With a hatchet from my saddle, I quickly cut a few sturdy posts from the branches of the trees, and we gave the horses a loose tether that would allow them to wander. They began to nibble at the grass almost immediately, except Mist, who nuzzled Mag’s shoulder first.
“There there, girl,” said Mag. “We will return before you know it.”
“A fine mare,” said Tuhin, patting Mist’s flank as she began to graze with the others.
“Far better than that one,” said Mag, pointing at Foolhoof.
“Do you expect me to argue?” I said, arching my brows. “He is never more than a bad mood away from being turned into sausage.”
“That is simply cruel,” said Tuhin. Foolhoof raised his head to nudge them gently with his neck, the dark-taken traitor. “Do you see? He is a gentle soul.”
They ignored my sudden grumbles and led us off again. Soon we were breathing somewhat heavily. The land kept climbing, and we had to take many sudden turns and detours to avoid pits and cliffs that seemed to appear out of nowhere. Mag, curse her, did not seem winded at all, despite her shirt of metal scales. But then, that was to be expected. I kept Oku close by as we went, and he was more than capable of matching our pace.
I began to notice that Tuhin was looking around uneasily as we went. “What is wrong?” I asked them.
Tuhin’s mouth twisted. “The land is quiet.”
I felt a tenseness creep down from my neck into my shoulders. “Do you think we are being watched?”
“I am not certain,” said Tuhin. “I have been searching for signs, but I have found none yet. We should be wary, just in case.”
“I am always wary,” said Mag.
“That is a lie,” I said.
It became clear, the farther we went, that the cliffs we kept encountering were in fact one long cliff, the edge of a trench that ran for miles. Tuhin’s guidance meant we encountered it rarely, and only when they became turned around for a moment. But I realized after a time that it was far too straight to be natural. It was a man-made trench that must have been dug in ancient days. I remembered Victon’s words, that it had been put here to divert lava away from Opara and into the surrounding land. I marveled at the thought of it. Magic must have been used in its making, for I could not imagine that even an army could have dug so deep, and for such a great distance.
“Halt,” said Tuhin suddenly.
We stopped short behind them. Just ahead of us, the path delved into a slice through a hill, both sides slick with fireglass. Half a span in, the path curved sharply to the right and out of sight.
“Maunwa is on the other side of that passage.”
They unslung their bow from their back, and I did the same. Mag had her spear ready, for she had been using it as a walking stick. Now she hefted her shield off her back and onto her arm. Tuhin pressed close to one side of the path, creeping forwards to the sharp turn. I was just behind them, with Mag bri
nging up the rear.
Tuhin came to the corner at the end of the path and stopped. I pressed forwards a bit, trying to see around. Tuhin saw me edging towards them and beckoned me closer. I leaned over, my shoulder to theirs, and looked around the bend.
Only a few paces from where we stood, the steep-sided path emerged into the open air. And there, mayhap three spans away, sat the fortress of Maunwa. It perched upon the top of a rise, but behind it the land fell off into the sheer cliff of the trench. A thick iron gate sat in its northern wall, visible from our vantage point, and a road ran out of it—the same road, I knew, that we had been following before we left it for the wilderness.
An uneasy feeling came over me. I had approached a stronghold in the mountains in much the same way not that long ago. Then, as now, I had anticipated foes within, and then I had lost someone dear to me.
I shrugged the feeling away. Yes, there might be Shades here, as there had been when I had led Jordel to his doom. But I had not had Mag by my side, then.
“I see no one on the walls,” I murmured to Tuhin.
“Mayhap it is abandoned,” they said, frowning. “Yet I am still uneasy. We should check to make sure.”
We crept forwards. I whispered hasty instructions to Mag and Oku to stay well behind the two of us. For all her skill at fighting, Mag was no master of stealth.
I followed Tuhin’s lead until we were out of the narrow path, and then we split up and cut wide, creeping between rocks and mounds of fireglass. I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the stronghold, wary for any sign of movement inside. But there was nothing. The gate remained open, and it looked as though it might have been that way for years.
Of course, we could not know that the Shades were aware of us. We could not know that Kaita had warned them, and that they were fully aware we had left the city, thanks to an agent of theirs in the Rangatira’s keep. Nor could we know that they had sent their best scouts to shadow us, agents so stealthy that even Tuhin did not detect them, except as a vague sense of unease. We did not know they had us surrounded.
Until they struck.
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 35