by Richard Due
Tavin’s sword point flashed to the hollow of Fellbard’s neck. Tavin had crossed the last steps to reach him with the speed and grace of a striking snake, but once having accomplished that, he faltered, wobbling on the ball of his foot. His blade bounced sharply into Fellbard’s skin, and a small rivulet of blood pooled at the sword’s tip.
Curse made a very different sound then; not a hiss, or a word, but more like a sound of pleasure, or satisfaction. The sound of it made Jasper’s skin crawl.
“Dyre?” asked Tavin, suddenly sounding shaken, even a little confused. “I ask you to assure me . . . that you aren’t threatening Ember.” He sounded terribly sincere in this. “You see, Dyre, the real trouble here is that, unlike you, I do know what cancer looks like. And, unlike yourself, I’m not afraid to deal with it . . . personally. In fact—” And just as Tavin whipped back his blade arm to strike, the flaps of the tent flew open and Cora rushed out.
“Tavin!” she pleaded. “They’re gone. They’re safe. They’re not here.”
Tavin’s arm hesitated, but his tormented eyes did not leave Fellbard’s face. Instead, his sword arm rattled as though ravaged by some palsy.
“Pruuuuuuuuune himmmm,” crooned Curse’s metallic voice.
“Tavin,” said Ember, speaking slowly and clearly. “Annora and Bree are not here. They’re safe. Do you hear me?”
Tavin took a ragged breath. He let out a small sob, and his head dipped for just a second, his eyes flickering shut.
That was all Quib needed. Leaping from behind one of the Dragondain, he lashed out his whip and caught Tavin’s sword arm, heaving back on it as though he were drawing back the reins of a runaway horse.
“Tully,” shouted Quib to the nearest Dragondain. “Get that fool out of here!” he screamed, nodding to Fellbard.
Several of the guards quickly grabbed Fellbard by the arms and dragged him from the arena, screaming and struggling as he went.
With the threat to Ember removed, all the fight went out of Tavin, his sword arm falling slack to his side.
“That’s a boy, Tavvy. Now, can you put ‘er away all by yourself, or are you gonna need a bit of help there?”
Tavin straightened a little, then swayed. He lifted his sword hilt high, point to the ground, and then, with the blade point hovering just inches from the scabbard, his whole arm shook again.
Quib bore down on the handle of his whip. Tavin’s arm steadied. “Almost there, Tavvy.”
With a violent thrust, Tavin rammed Curse home.
Quib’s eyebrows lifted. “By the grace of the moons,” he swore softly.
The whip unknotted itself from Tavin’s arm, fell loose to the ground, and snaked back to its owner in an oddly lifelike way. Tavin staggered, and Quib rushed forward, wrapping his arm around Tavin’s waist to steady him.
“All righty, now. Let’s get you back home. Nice and safe-like.”
Quib steered Tavin away from the tent, and the crowds made an opening to let them pass.
Jasper turned to Ember. She looked much relieved, but concerned.
“Ember, if I may call you that, I’m Jasper Winter. I’m Lily’s—”
“I know perfectly well who you are, but now is not the time.” And she stepped away, heading for Bairne.
Jasper ran to her side. “I have word,” he began, speaking softly, “from Barreth—from Greydor.”
Ember seized Jasper by the arm, turned around, and half-marched half-dragged him into the small tent, closing the flaps behind her. Her eyes were suddenly animated.
“What are you talking about? What’s happening on Barreth?”
“Wrengfoul’s attacked—”
“That much is obvious! How goes the battle?”
“They’ve survived the initial assault, killing a queen scaramann in the process, but they’ve lost the tower of Fangdelve.”
“You spoke of Greydor. Quickly!”
“He wants to talk to you. They need riders.”
Ember took a step back, her face looking as though she had just smelled something very unpleasant.
“What in the moons are you talking about?” she said slowly.
“Riders. Dainriders.” But Ember only continued to stare at Jasper as though something was wrong in his head. “He needs a group of men to ride an elite clutter of Rinn. A group of men who can think on their feet, who can use sword, bow, or lance. Can you think of any?”
Ember’s face grew dark. She furrowed her brow, drawing a hand to her mouth.
“He can’t be serious.”
Jasper wasn’t certain if she was thinking aloud or talking to him, but he knew this was a moment for absolute clarity.
“He’s completely serious.”
Ember drew herself up to her full height and looked away, musing.
“That won’t be easy,” she said under her breath. “It’s such bad timing.” Then she glanced down at Jasper, a new concern sparking in her eye. “Where are you staying, Cora’s?”
“I’m not really sure.”
“See that you do. How much longer do you plan to be on Dain?”
“I need to leave as soon as I can.” Jasper tried his best to sound confident. He really didn’t want to go through the same conversation he’d gone through with Nimlinn, where he had to admit that he had no idea what he was doing.
Ember nodded. “Stay in touch, Jasper.” And as she dashed from the tent, she revealed Ridley, standing just outside the flaps, trying very hard not to look awed—and failing miserably.
Chapter Five
Annora and Bree
The horses moved slowly, picking each step with great care.
Four moons hung in the night sky, casting four sets of shadows, in four distinct shades, each growing, drifting, and shrinking in time to its own maker’s movements. The tree-lined road, once designed to ferry armies, was now much reduced in capacity by the very trees which had been planted to give those armies shade. Broken, swollen, leaning at odd angles, the ancient trees had long ago invaded the lane, sending out their root systems to war with the cobblestones and reducing them to pebbles and dust.
Four moons: that meant Dain was in the middling, with as many moons between it and the sun as behind.
Dubb, with Luna in the saddle before him, kept close to the others, trying to catch any word of Annora’s that made sense. Sandwiched between Nye and Bree for warmth, Annora alternately mumbled and cried out. Dubb understood none of what she said. Her words were for Bree, and concerned arcane lunamancy, which meant nothing to him.
She was much better than when Dubb had discovered them fleeing from the crowds surrounding the arena. Nye and Bree had been dragging Annora, one of her arms over each of their shoulders, her legs making only token efforts to bear her weight. Nye had thrown his cloak about her, more for disguise than for warmth. It had been a dangerous and foolhardy thing for the son of a healer to do, even in the confusion. Dubb had grabbed a handful of Annora’s hair and lifted her chin from her chest. Dark, vacant eyes stood out in stark relief against her pale face. Staring without recognition, she chanted strange, mumbled words. When her pronunciation faltered, Bree would quickly prompt her. Dubb had seen this kind of thing before, and he knew not to interrupt.
Since then, Dubb had worked fast to spirit the girls out of Bairne as quickly as possible, occasionally catching Bree’s worried eye. But it had been dark for a long time now, and all he had to go on was Annora’s voice.
Just outside of Raewyn’s homestead, Nye pulled on the reins and stopped.
“I’ll saddle you some fresh horses,” he said, jumping down.
“Don’t you think we should see your mother?” asked Dubb.
“No,” said Nye, quickly. “Bree is who Annora needs now. She’s much better than she was. Just be ready.” He jogged off toward a
grove of tall trees.
Dubb helped Luna down and dismounted. Quickly, he removed all the baggage from both horses. Luna bid them goodbye and led the horses off in the same direction Nye had gone.
After a short time, Nye returned with two saddled horses. Dubb was relieved to see that Annora was now strong enough to cling to Bree’s back.
“They’ll know you’re coming,” Nye told Dubb.
“I don’t remember telling you where we were going,” said Dubb.
Nye smiled. “Right. Now listen: they’ll try and stop you whether he’s asked to see them or not. You won’t be able to approach him unseen.”
Dubb nodded. “Understood.”
“Good luck.”
Many hours later, far from Raewyn’s, Annora whispered to Bree that she was well. Bree leaned forward and whispered into the horse’s ear. With a little jolt and whinny, the horse picked up its pace and pulled alongside Dubb.
“Where are we going?” Bree asked. Dubb did not respond.
“Nye knew,” persisted Bree indignantly. Still nothing.
“Annora’s getting tired again,” said Bree quickly. “We need to stop soon.”
Dubb chuckled. “Is that true, Annora?”
Bree gave a pull on her reins and let Dubb ride ahead. “Damn him,” she said, under her breath. “How does he always know when I’m lying? He’s not even a witch. Tavin never knows when I’m lying.”
Annora laughed lightly in her ear. “Yes, but when Tavin asks . . . just you try and lie to him then.”
“That’s another thing I don’t understand,” said Bree irritably. “How does he do that? It’s not like we’re children anymore.”
Dubb’s horse stopped suddenly. The trees had been thinning, the fields of tall grass expanding. It was there, in the tall grass, that Dubb’s attention had focused. Annora was just about to form a peerin when Dubb held up a hand to stay her.
“That won’t be necessary. They’ve been following us for some time.”
“What are they?” asked Bree.
“I’m not certain,” said Dubb. “They appear to be on foot, but I haven’t seen any sign of horn or hat.”
“So they must not be very tall.”
“Yes, but there are a lot of them, and on both sides.”
Annora and Bree whipped their heads around.
“Why are they keeping their distance if we’re so few?” asked Bree. “They can’t be afraid of us.”
“I don’t think they’re afraid of us because of who we are,” said Dubb.
“Then why?” asked Bree.
Dubb said nothing.
Annora’s voice dropped low. “They’re afraid of us because of where we’re going.”
Dubb steered his horse into an open field that stretched far longer than any they had seen since leaving the valley. With no trees to block it, the light of the four moons was bright as early dawn. Several times over the next few hours, Dubb motioned for Bree and Annora’s attention, pointing far off to their left, where the blades of grass quivered as though many small animals were darting through them.
Finally, they crested a low rise and came upon an island of tall trees surrounded by low grass as far as they could see. Soon they made out small lights moving between the trees in odd trajectories, as though they were flying between the branches. At the edge of the wood, a young boy stepped out and stared at them.
The horses refused to enter the wood, stomping the ground and whinnying. When Bree tried to guide her mount into the trees, it turned completely around.
Dubb appeared at her side, her horse’s bridle gripped tightly in his hands.
“You may as well come down. These horses will go no further.” He looped both sets of reins around a tree branch.
“We can’t just leave Raewyn’s horses out here, can we?” said Bree, the sisters walking quickly to keep up with Dubb’s long strides.
“Don’t worry. They’ll be well taken care of.”
The small lights followed them, but always at a distance. At times, Annora thought she heard sounds accompanying the lights, like wind blowing through the branches or little wings fluttering.
Dubb set a fast pace, and each time Annora and Bree caught up, he picked it up a little more. Although the floor of the woods was well-kept and clear of deadfall, the roots and rocks were hard to avoid.
“Isn’t there a path we can take?” asked Annora.
“No,” said Dubb
“Can’t we make a light?”
“No. Step where I step, and make sure to keep up.” He took off at a jog.
Annora and Bree kept after him, but as the trees became a thicket, his path grew ever more difficult to follow until a low rock wall and bits of wooden fence appeared on their left. The girls followed the wall for some time. Finally they caught up to Dubb, straddling the wall, and he hoisted them over it one at a time.
“We’re here. Quickly now, I want to avoid—”
“Who goes there?” someone shouted.
Dubb made a shushing motion with his finger and swiftly guided them toward a clearing, in the center of which stood a ring of substantial barns. In less than a minute, they reached a paddock, circled by a tall fence. Dubb had the gate unlocked and opened in an instant, as though he had done it many times before. Inside the paddock, the dirt was packed down hard, like pounded chalk. The sky was still dark, and without the small lights that had followed them in the trees, it was hard to see anything within the shadow of the barn.
Dubb halted.
“What’s the matter?” asked Bree. “Why are we stopping?”
Dubb sighed. “There is someone here.”
Annora stepped to one side and placed her hands together to form a peerin.
“Very astute,” said a voice, and an old man appeared before them. He pulled away a veil of blacking cloth from a lantern and lifted it high. The entire paddock bloomed with yellow light. “You,” he said. “I suspected as much.”
Dubb said nothing. Bree too stepped clear of Dubb’s shadow, peerin at the ready.
“Something wrong with the front gate?” the old man asked. “I see you are not alone. Who are these?”
“These are Cora’s children, Annora and Bree.” Dubb motioned to the old man. “Annora, Bree, this is Einar Mardanc. He’ll be watching over you for a time.”
“I will be doing no such thing! They have the look of lunamancers about them. There will be none of that here.”
“Open the door, Einar,” said Dubb. Einar’s wrinkled face was grim, and he stood his ground firmly.
“There will be no lunamancy on my ground. Not while I still stand, not while blood courses through my veins,” hissed Einar.
Dubb took a step forward, and Einar extended his staff, blocking him.
“I don’t mean you any disrespect, Einar, but this is not your land. It is held by the healers’ collective. There is no one—”
Einar stabbed the heel of his staff into the dirt, and a great plume of orange flame burst from its tip. “I have watched over this ground all my life. No one tells me tells me what is done here and what is not.”
Dubb cupped his hands to his mouth. “Wyrdin,” he called. “I’ve brought them, just as you asked. But my time is short, and I am needed elsewhere.”
The ground gave a great tremor, as though an immense weight had shifted within the barn.
“Einar,” boomed a deep, gravelly voice. It was the kind of voice you’d expect to hear if a cave had been taught to speak.
Einar made a sour face and pulled his staff from the earth, extinguishing the flame. With a sweep of his staff, the doors slid back. Annora fought down the urge to investigate. Specifically, she wanted to know if the spell was attached to the doors and triggered by the staff, or if the staff had done it alone. When she
glanced at Bree, Annora could tell she was wondering the same thing. Also, she noticed Bree’s fists were tightly balled up and quivering.
A blast of warm air exhaled from the barn, bringing with it the sharp smell of spices, chief among them cinnamon.
Dubb placed a hand on each of their shoulders. “Don’t be afraid,” he whispered. “This is a friend.”
The ground trembled. Twin lights swept the ground from within the barn, and bits of dust sifted down from the rafters. Framed in the doorway, an enormous snout appeared, followed by a spiked head covered with dark scales of green and blue. When the great head turned, it suddenly became clear that the twin lights were shining from the yellow eyes now regarding them.
“Dragon,” breathed Annora softly.
“You always need to be somewhere else,” said Wyrdin in his sonorous voice. “But I understand. I too would have much to take care of were I able to leave this place with my mind intact.”
Dubb bowed his head, and there was a long, uncomfortable silence.
“I’m very sorry for your loss, Wyrdin,” said Dubb, breaking the silence.
“You did what had to be done,” said Wyrdin.
“I was only able to save the two—” Dubb’s voice welled up with emotion. “I’m so sorry to have let her down.”
“No. If anyone has been let down, it is I, and by her. Let it go.”
Bree and Annora looked at Dubb in wonder.
Einar stepped out of the shadows. “Wyrdin, explain yourself.”
Wyrdin regarded Einar for a short time but said nothing.
“Are they ready?” Wyrdin asked Dubb.
“Wyrdin, about the being ready part . . . I’m no lunamancer.”
Wyrdin’s great eyes narrowed to slits. “Then you have brought them here . . . why?”
“I brought them because . . . after yesterday . . . I’m no longer sure they aren’t ready.”
“Einar,” boomed the dragon, maneuvering his great bulk back toward the interior of the barn. “Offer Dubb some tea and something to eat. He has had a long and exhausting ride.”