“She—she needs—you—to save—her.”
“Mag and the Rangatira have gone after her,” I said. “They will see to—to Vera.”
He shook his head—he could only move it a finger in each direction. “No. Ditra.” I felt his fingers slacken on my wrist. “Ditra.”
Slowly, as though he were relaxing into sleep, his head sank back. But his eyes never left me. Not even as I bowed my head over him, and the hall around us settled to silence.
“She killed him?” said Sun.
Albern nodded slowly. “She did.”
“Did Mag catch her?”
He shook his head, never taking his eyes from the trail they were following. Or rather, that he was following, for Sun could not see it. “She did not. Not then.”
“She escaped again?” said Sun, incredulous, her voice rising. “Mag was just behind her!”
“We hesitated a moment too long, after Maia,” said Albern. “Mag caught the other Shade that tried to flee. But Kaita took her mountain lion form as soon as she could. She was on the wall and in her raven form before anyone knew what had happened, and then she took wing.”
Sun glared into the grass, picturing it in her mind, running it over and over as though by sheer force of will she could change what had happened. “I cannot believe how she kept getting away from you. Did Mag not wish to catch her?”
“Oh, she did,” said Albern. “More than you can believe. More than she wanted to save the lives of the people of Kahaunga, certainly. Every time Kaita escaped us, it was sheer luck. If I had not lived it myself, I would not believe it. And though I do not mean to cast an even darker pall over what is already an unhappy tale thus far, I will say this: many, many times have I seen evil people escape judgement, while good people meet an early end. The world should not be that way, but sometimes it is.”
“I am no child. I do not believe that everything is always just and right. But dark below, at least tell me that she did not kill your—”
Albern raised a hand. Sun stopped short, glaring at him. “Are you shushing—”
“Please,” whispered Albern. “Do not speak for a moment. I think we are drawing close to the end of the trail.”
Somewhat mollified, Sun fell silent. Albern’s bow was in her hand, and his quiver on her belt. She drew an arrow, holding it nocked and ready.
“Where?” she whispered.
“Not far,” he said. “Come. Off the beaten path for a little while.”
Sun’s face twisted. She could see no trace whatsoever of their prey, and certainly not a beaten path. But she followed Albern as he cut suddenly right, working his way around the southern side of a great hill that rose to a cluster of reddish boulders at the top. It brought them to another hill, which Albern circumvented again. But when they came to a third hill, this time he began to climb. Sun followed, and when Albern began to walk in a half-crouch, she did the same.
They reached the crest of the hill. Two trees grew towards the north end of it, and they snuck up to one of them. A few paces from the edge of the hill, Albern lowered himself to the ground, creeping forwards like a jungle cat stalking through grass. Sun did the same, though she had to restrain herself from moving too quickly—it was easier for her than for Albern, with his missing arm.
Together they sidled up to the edge of the hill and looked down into a small dip in the land. Sun barely restrained a gasp.
A camp sat in the lowest flat point in the land. A motley assortment of disheveled individuals lounged about in various positions of rest, many of them near a campfire with some meat suspended above it. There looked to be a few guards posted, but they were scant paces away from the others, and they sat on rocks or the flat ground. They hardly seemed to be looking out for a squirrel to shoot, much less intruders.
But the center of the camp drew Sun’s attention immediately. There she saw a sizable cauldron made of black iron, and full of an even blacker liquid. The sun’s final rays only gave it a few hints of any color, and that was a dark red. Beneath the cauldron burned a flame—a flame like Sun had never seen before, black instead of red, with the barest hints of blue and grey flicking at the top of it. A flame that seemed to draw light from the air rather than bestowing it.
“Dark below!” hissed Sun. “That is—”
“Please do be quieter,” said Albern.
“That is a cauldron of blood,” whispered Sun. “And is that … is that darkfire beneath it?”
“It is,” whispered Albern.
“Then those people are Shades?”
“No,” said Albern. “Not quite. But they have some idea of what the Shades were, and despite that, they are trying to emulate them.”
His gaze flicked back and forth across the scene before them. He was surveying the scene, taking stock of the people and the layout of their camp.
“Do … do you mean to fight them?”
“Fight might be a strong word,” said Albern. “But I do mean to stop them.”
“But there are so many. I have never fought in a battle before. I cannot defeat a dozen foes. And you …”
“Yes,” said Albern, shrugging his right shoulder to highlight his missing arm. “Not exactly the stalwart battle companion you might hope for.”
“Then you do not think we can defeat them?”
“Look there.” Albern pointed to a crate, close to both the cauldron and the campfire. “A guard on either side of it. And they are the only ones in the whole party who seem alert. I would wager that is where they keep the rest of their magestones.”
“We should tell the constables,” said Sun.
“Hm,” said Albern. “I have another idea. Let us get out of sight and wait until sundown.”
They slid back, away from the edge of the hill. Once they were out of sight, Albern rose and walked down the other side of the hill, Sun just behind him.
“The two of us cannot hope to win against them.”
He smiled back over his shoulder at her. “There are many ways to win. In Kahaunga, we were well outmatched by the trolls. Yet we had an advantage. One we did not yet realize.”
“An advantage?” said Sun.
“Oh yes. If you know something your foe does not, you always have an advantage. Let us get somewhere more private and have a bite to eat. We will take care of these conspirators at dusk. That should give us just enough time to finish this part of the tale. That is, if you want me to go on?”
Sun rolled her eyes and reached for the pouch of food at her belt. “You already know the answer, old man.”
After chasing Kaita out of the stronghold, Ditra and Mag returned to the council chamber. When she saw Maia lying dead at the foot of her chair, Ditra looked ready to collapse.
“He died bravely,” I murmured.
“Who cares for that?” said Ditra, her voice cracking.
She sank to sit on the stairs of her dais, and I sat close beside her. I wanted to ask about her daughter, but I could not quite bring myself to name her. Not yet. “Did you … did you and Mag …”
For a moment she only stared at Maia’s body, but at last she looked up. “We went after my daughter. Albern, I … I named her Vera. I wanted to tell you when … you should not have found out like that.”
“It is all right,” I said at once.
“I missed you,” she said, her voice cracking. “And I thought … after Romil, and Mother, and when you still did not return … I thought I would never see you again.”
“Ditra,” I said, reaching over and taking her shoulder. “It is all right. I am honored.”
She bowed her head. “Well. She is safe. The guards outside her room never even saw the commotion. Kaita may have had plans for her, but she had to abandon them after you showed up.”
“That is a comfort, at least.”
Ditra looked at Maia’s body. “I will call nothing a comfort today. Not today.”
Two of her ranger captains had been slain, and the other four had been wounded—two of them grievously. They had be
en carried off to be attended by healers. That left two in the chamber. They knelt beside Maia’s body like an honor guard, their heads bowed over him. Now they tried to rise, but they swayed as they did it.
“No,” snapped Ditra. “Sit. I will not have either of you fainting in my council chamber.”
The rangers settled back down at our feet, grateful looks upon their faces.
“Thank you, Rangatira.”
Ditra rose and went to her chair, bowing her head and covering her eyes with one hand. I looked to Mag, who stood a few paces off. Her expression was stony, but not emotionless. The battle-trance was gone. The look on her face was one of disappointment, of frustration at losing Kaita yet again.
“This is not over,” I told her.
“Well do I know it,” said Mag.
I nodded and looked up to Ditra. “If you still mean to hold council, might I fetch our friend, Dryleaf? He bears the wisdom of many years, and might have valuable advice.”
Ditra did not look up. “Why not? I seem now to have a dearth of councilors.” She looked up suddenly. “Where is the king’s representative?”
“The thin woman wearing robes of the king’s colors? Dead.”
“First to fall to the Shades,” growled one of the remaining ranger captains.
“Of course she was,” said Ditra. She waved a hand at me. “Go and fetch the old man.”
I bowed to her and went to retrieve Dryleaf. By the time I returned, Maia’s body had been removed from the council chamber. Servants had removed many skins from the floor that had been ruined with blood, and they were scrubbing at the stone beneath, trying to remove the stains. Dryleaf bowed low to Ditra with a fist on his forehead.
“Rangatira,” he said. “My most grievous condolences for your loss.”
“I thank you for them,” said Ditra. “And if I was less courteous the last time you offered such graceful sentiment, please forgive me. Fetch him a—” She looked around the chamber for a moment, seeming lost. “Dark take me, I have no one left to fetch you a chair.”
“A moment,” I said, ducking out of the room again. I went to the first guard I saw. “The Rangatira needs new guards in her council chamber. Choose half a dozen of them—but make sure you know them intimately well, and ask them questions only they would have the answer to. We have already been infiltrated today.”
Rumor of the Shades must have spread fast, for her face went pale, and she nodded. “As you say.” She turned to run off. I pointed to the next guard, just a few paces away, who looked as though he had been trying to overhear us.
“You. The Rangatira requires chairs for her council. Fetch …” I counted us off on my fingers. “Five of them. The most comfortable ones you can find, but do not take too long.”
He nodded and ran to do my bidding at once. I realized in that instant that I had begun talking to the guards as I had spoken to them in my youth. That was a disconcerting thought.
I returned to the council chamber. No one seemed to have moved or spoken since I had left. We waited in silence a while until guards filtered into the room, bearing chairs for us. They set them in a semicircle facing the dais, and then they retreated to stand at the edges of the room. Ditra studied them, likely inspecting their faces to ensure she knew them.
“Very well,” said Ditra, leaning forwards. Her rangers straightened. “I suppose we had better begin. These are my ranger captains, Huia and Ihaia, both of the family Taumata.”
They rose from their chairs and bowed to us. I rose and bowed in turn, and then gestured to myself and my companions. “I am Albern of the family Telfer. This is Mag, the Uncut Lady, and Dryleaf, our friend.”
“Well met. We are honored to meet the Uncut Lady,” said Huia. She was a thin but wirily muscled woman. The sides of her hair were trimmed to stubble, while the top was gathered into a tail that ran back and hung down to her shoulder blades. Her face was more tattoo than unmarked skin. She gestured to Ihaia. “My cousin and I were little more than whelps when last you were home. I am glad to see your return.”
That put me off for a moment, but I managed to nod. “You have my thanks.”
“With that out of the way,” said Ditra. “Let us begin. We must defend Kahaunga as long as we can. To do that, it would be helpful to know when the trolls mean to attack.”
“Our scouts have been returning with regular reports,” said Huia. “The trolls are still looting the city. We think it will be some time before they finish and start to climb the western side of the dale. Normally, I would say we could expect their attack tomorrow, or the next day. Of course, they attacked the city sooner than we expected, so we cannot be certain.”
“I suspect they will be spurred to action when the weremage returns to them,” I said. “She will be incensed by her failure to kill the Rangatira, and since she has ordered the trolls’ attacks thus far, fury might lead her to order them to attack at once.”
“How do you know that she—” Ditra bit her own words off and shook her head. “No. You have been right about the weremage thus far. I will trust your council in this.”
“Your soldiers know how to fight trolls?” said Dryleaf.
“Our trained soldiers, yes,” said Ihaia. “The new arrivals from the city … well, they shall have to learn fast.”
“It is not too difficult,” I said. “Cover the trolls with oil, and use flame upon them. We should tell every guard to repeat those words until they are blue in the face. I wish we could drill it, but I think we will not have the time.”
“And we cannot waste any oil,” said Ditra. “Our stores are low. The king’s army will bring more, but who knows when they will arrive? Our new recruits shall learn it as they do it.”
“A trial by fire,” I said. The moment the words were out of my mouth, I regretted them—it was just the sort of flippant joke I would have made to my mother when I was a child, inviting her wrath. But to my surprise, and not inconsiderable joy, Ditra gave me the tiniest smile, just as she had when we were young, and she did not want Mother to notice.
“You should send scouts to the north and south as well,” said Dryleaf. “Just in case the trolls try to maneuver around Kahaunga and attack your folk who are fleeing upon the road.”
“But not too many,” I said. “I doubt it will be necessary, for I hardly think that even the Shades could influence the trolls in so subtle a way. They will almost certainly attack the walls. Send your scouts, but only two in each direction.”
“As you say,” said Ditra. She glanced over at Mag. “You are very quiet. More so than the last time you stood in this chamber. Have you no counsel to give?”
“I think these two have the better advice,” said Mag. “I came to Tokana for the weremage, and nothing else.”
Ditra’s mouth set in a thin line. “Then that is your task in the battle. Kill her, if you get so much as half a chance.”
Mag bowed. “As you command, Rangatira.”
Ditra nodded. “Very well. That is all for now. Go and see to the orders I have given.” She turned to me. “Albern. I wish to speak with you privately.”
I hesitated as the others rose and prepared to leave. Ditra must have seen the apprehension on my face, for she shook her head.
“This is not an order. Please, brother.”
I relaxed. As her rangers went to issue her orders, and Mag remained with Dryleaf, I followed Ditra up the stairs to the same chamber where we had met last. There was a new bottle of wine on the table, and two cups. She stopped in the middle of the room, staring at them.
“One of those cups was for Maia,” she said. “I suppose it is yours, now.”
“Thank you,” I said. I poured for both of us and sat back, but I did not touch my wine. Ditra, on the other hand, drank half of hers in one gulp. She put it back down upon the table, staring at her own hand as it gripped the glass.
“You were right about Kaita.”
“I wish I had not been.”
“The past is barren ground for sowing wishes,�
� she said, “and the future is fertile for nothing else.”
My brows rose. “I have never heard that wisdom. I doubt you learned it from Mother.”
“I did not. It came from my late husband.” At last Ditra looked up at me. But far from the pain I had seen there last time, her eyes were filled with a profound sadness, almost mourning. “You should have come back, Albern. When Romil died. You should have come back.”
“And what would Mother have said?” I asked her quietly. “How could I have faced her? She, who I could never quite say hated me, but simply … did not seem to care. Yet she would have cared, had I returned. Romil would not have died, if not for me. She was only on that pass because she was returning after seeking me out.”
“Yes, she was,” said Ditra. “That does not mean it was your fault.”
“I know that. But Mother … she would not have seen it the same way. She would have hated me, then.”
Ditra nodded slightly. “You are right. She would have. She did. And without you there to turn her hatred upon, she turned it on me instead, and on herself. She spent nearly every waking moment in the pass, hunting down any Feldemarian who dared to enter our domain, until in the end, they killed her. But not before she had let me know just how useless I was to her, in her time of loss.”
I shook my head. “Ditra … no one should have suffered that. Least of all you. I am sorry.”
“No. That was not your fault, either.” She sighed and pushed her chair back a few fingers. “And we have no time to worry about it now, in any case. Kaita will be back. I doubted you before, but no longer. If we are to die here, as might well be the case, I would sooner do it by your side than alone. Will you stand with me?”
I nodded. “I will help you save your people.”
“Thank you.” It came out as a whisper, though I do not think she intended it to. She took a deep breath, obviously steeling herself. “Albern, I … my daughter. Vera. I never knew that you were ander, I would never have …”
The Tales of the Wanderer Volume One: A Book of Underrealm (The Underrealm Volumes 4) Page 53