“I have eaten less than you, though my body is far greater,” said Jordel, not looking up from his horse, securing Xain to the charger’s back in preparation for the day’s ride.
“The body requires less sustenance than the mind,” said Gem. “My thoughts range far and wide, and they burn the food in my belly faster than your brawny muscles, Mystic.”
“Keep your tongue hushed, Gem,” Loren snapped. “Would you have the whole of Selvan know who we are?”
His shoulders fell in embarrassment, then Gem turned sullenly to Loren. “There is no one for miles in any direction. Let the birds carry the tale of our passing, for all I care.”
“We must ride hard today,” said Jordel. “Tomorrow I hope to reach the Greatrocks southern tip, where lies the joining of Selvan’s Westerly Road and that from Wellmont. If we are lucky, we will arrive before my order and the King’s law. I have held out hope that the Dorsean invasion keeps them distracted, but then again it might not. Certainly the Mystics, at least, would have sent some riders, if Vivien returned with her tale.”
“What makes you so certain she survived?” Gem nodded at Xain. “That one’s fire took care of the rest.”
“Yet her corpse was missing,” said Loren. “We would do well to imagine the worst, and prepare.”
“Wise words, I suppose,” Gem shrugged. “And then, if she perished on the road, let it be a pleasant surprise.”
Jordel turned, and in his eyes Loren saw a fire burning. Gem blanched.
“Vivien is a Mystic of my order,” said Jordel. “She has taken no action except in keeping with our laws, and those of the King. Her death would be a loss to all the nine lands, and you will not so much as whisper otherwise again.”
Gem trembled as he spoke, his bravado finally fleeing as the Mystic finished. He turned his eyes to the ground and gnawed on his hardtack.
“I meant no offense. Only I do not wish to be caught by the King’s law any more than you. She was a mighty warrior, and a good woman, I am sure.”
Behind Gem, Loren saw Annis’ eyes flash. The girl had disliked Vivien from the start. Her opinion had not improved when the Mystic attacked their boat upon the Dragon’s Tail, nor when she pursued them out of Wellmont. Loren herself held no love for the woman, who had eagerly tried to kill the sellswords they found upon the road. Only Jordel’s mercy had stopped her.
Loren spoke before Annis could further stoke Jordel’s ire.
“None of us wish to be found, Gem. Ready yourself to ride, and quickly. Speed is our ally now.”
Rather than quell Annis’ dark mood, Loren saw the girl’s attention shift to Xain. Immediately she regretted it. The wizard had done her great harm, both in mind and body, and they all knew why their progress upon the road was slower than Jordel wished.
“Tis hard to ride with great speed when the horses are so overburdened,” said Annis quietly.
Loren heard the ire in her words. But the girl turned away and blushed, as if embarrassed, moving to help Gem pack. Jordel must have heard her, but he made no comment beyond a sharp frown and a deep gaze, both cast at Annis.
They readied and mounted without another word, and Loren’s world fell again into an endless string of rapid hoofbeats and vanishing road beneath Midnight’s hooves.
But soon enough, it began to rain. Though the hot sun had beat them like a stable boy ever since they left the King’s road, it now seemed that spring had come for one final storm. Fat pellets of water struck them like hornets, and they all raised their hoods.
“This is both a curse and a blessing,” said Jordel, his eyes to the sky. “If anyone lies in wait, we will be harder to see. But it slows us, and if we are indeed pursued, that may be disastrous.”
“It depends, then, on whether they are before or behind us,” said Gem. “But our road is set, and so what use is there in worry? There is precious little we can do either way.”
“A wise way of thinking, little scholar.” Jordel gave Gem the flash of a smile.
Loren could almost feel the boy puff with pride behind her. She hid a grin; Jordel no doubt meant to make Gem feel better after his earlier outburst. And it seemed to have worked.
For many miles the road ran beside a stream — a small branch of the Dragon’s Tail, flying down from the Greatrock Mountains to join the river at Selvan’s southern border. They had washed themselves on their first day of riding, and Loren could still imagine the touch of cool water on her prickled skin.
But they had left the stream behind early that first day, and now the land rose and fell in steep, rocky hills, the earliest and smallest foothills of the mountains laying ahead. The Greatrocks were hidden from view as often as not, though every time the land rose they could see that the road carried them true to their destination.
Not long after midday, they stopped to rest. Jordel turned them aside at a great cleft in one of the foothills, where a flat and rocky face shone white against the green grass. The rock curved up and over, forming a sort of half-roof that sheltered them from the rain. As soon as the horses had stopped, fetlocks brushing the mud, Annis and Gem flung themselves off with whoops of glee.
“A quick bite to eat. Then we move on.” Jordel dismounted, but left Xain slung behind the saddle.
Loren went to him, stepping close to speak quietly, though she doubted the children could have heard them over the rain. “I have thought about Annis’ words this morning,” she said.
Jordel looked wearily over at where Annis and Gem sat in the shelter, eating some of the salted beef he had given them as a rare treat. “Who could blame her anger? Xain’s actions in Wellmont were less than honorable.”
“Twice he might have killed her, and you as well. Yet you still have not explained why you undergo such risk to help him.”
“I do it for all the nine lands, and the people who dwell here. They will need his help, and the aid of others like him.”
“You have said that before. But what sort of men are like him? Liars? Men who would harm children without a second thought?”
“Those actions were not entirely his. The wizard ate magestones.”
“Indeed.” She shrugged. “What of it?”
Jordel looked at Loren in surprise. “I thought you might have guessed this already. There is an excellent reason that magestones are forbidden by the King’s law. They do not only grant a wizard great power, nor unlock hidden parts of their gift, such as Xain’s darkfire. They are like a poison in the mind, and bestow a terrible craving. Any wizard who eats a magestone will think of little else until they get another. If a wizard resists, their mind will twist until they are no longer in control of their actions. Their bodies, too, will suffer. That is why Xain harmed the Yerrin girl, and that is why he fled my care. Had I known he was under such dark influence, I might have done things differently.”
A frown found Loren’s face. It seemed to make sense; after all, Xain had never been a friendly man, but the magestones had made him a monster.
But then she remembered their travels on the Dragon’s Tail, after fleeing Redbrook. In her mind’s eye, she saw the greed in Xain’s face when he first beheld the stones. Now she turned to look at him lying across Jordel’s charger, and saw the rage twisting his features. It turned her stomach.
“He took them of his own will, knowing what would befall him,” said Loren. “And he never told me what might happen. I might have prepared. I will not so easily forgive him.”
“I do not ask you to. Understanding does not require forgiveness, but it may ease a heart stung by betrayal. And your thoughts of Xain may yet change when you see how he will suffer.”
Loren thought she knew something of that already; in Wellmont she had seen the wizard with his hair falling out, teeth cracked and broken, his skin sallow and sunken. He had told her he was poisoned by Vivien’s magic, and that only magestones could break the spell. Loren now knew that to be a lie.
She had no more words for Jordel, so she took her ration and sat in the hill’s shelter to ea
t, holding some hardtack into the falling rain to soften it and studying Xain as he dangled from the horse’s rear. His eyes held their smolder, even when Jordel forced some food into his mouth around the gag, and when they ended their rest to set forth upon the road again.
three
THROUGH THAT DAY THEY RODE, the rain beating on them more heavily the further they went. It kept them from driving the horses, and Loren saw Jordel’s frustration slowly mount. Every so often she caught the Mystic glancing back at Xain, as though he thought the wizard might have summoned the storm to plague them. But that was madness; if Xain could have conjured his powers, he would have cast off his bonds and fled. And he would not have brought rain to pester them, but more likely flame to make them ashes. She shuddered at the thought.
Perhaps she imagined it, or mayhap she was looking for it now, but each time Loren glanced at Xain he seemed to be faring worse. An unhealthy pallor had come over his flesh, and she did not think the rain could make his skin quite so clammy. His eyes darted everywhere, and his arms would not cease their twitching. She could imagine him wanting to scratch, as he had in Wellmont after taking the magestones.
Jordel pushed them to ride after sundown, until the last light had almost faded from the cloudy sky. Then he found a site for their camp, in the lee of a tall hill where the ground had not been so terribly soaked. Again Loren gave silent thanks for her bedroll.
Their eager pace paid off; before noon the next day they spotted the lights and smoke of a village ahead as the rain began to lighten. Soon it was barely a drizzle, and Gem lowered his hood with a whoop and a laugh.
“At long last! How I have longed for a real bed and some warm food in my belly.”
“And you will have both, though we have precious little time to waste,” said Jordel. “Be sure to enjoy it.”
Despite his gruff words, Loren could hear the relief in his voice. If they had not been waylaid on the road already, she doubted either the Mystics or the family Yerrin could find them now.
“That will be the village of Strapa,” said Jordel. “It sits at the joining of Selvan’s Westerly Road and the smaller path leading to Wellmont, which the king never saw fit to name. No horseman or caravan may travel this way without passing through, unless they wish to journey for many miles around.”
“Curious that I have never heard of it,” said Annis. “My family’s wagons venture often upon the Westerly Road.”
“They do, but they would never stop in such an insignificant place. They would carry on to Sunvale, a quarter day north.”
A few miles before they reached the first houses of Strapa, Jordel turned them left and off the road. Mountains loomed above them, and the hills at their feet were coated thick with pine. Into the trees he led them, picking an unerring path through their trunks until the outside world was lost from view. Not for the first time, Loren was struck by the skill of his woodcraft, and wondered where he had learned it.
When they had reached a small clearing half a mile from the forest’s edge, Jordel commanded them to stop. A large pile of rocks lay at the clearing’s western rim, forming a small sort of cave that the rain could not reach. The Mystic dismounted, handing his reins to Loren, and went to inspect the caves with his drawn sword. Once he had been in and out of the rocks and inspected them all around, he returned with a grim smile.
“It is empty, and no tracks or droppings have been left for many a long month. It will serve.”
“Serve for what?” said Gem.
“To hold our unusual cargo, of course. Did you think to enter the village with a wizard trussed upon my horse like a fallen stag?”
Loren was surprised she had not thought of that herself. The sight of Strapa had been so welcome after their long and wet days upon the road, that she had had little thought for anything other than finding an inn. But of course Jordel was right. They could not exactly haul Xain along as they refreshed their supplies.
The Mystic deposited Xain within the cave, sheltered from the sky by rocks overhead. He produced another coil of rope from his saddlebag, and worked behind the wizard to secure his wrists to the boulders.
“That will do,” he said. “Come, we can ease our horses’ burdens somewhat. Gem, you will ride with me.”
“You mean to leave him here alone?” said Gem, aghast.
Loren spoke up as well. “That seems unwise, Jordel. I thought you meant to leave a guard.”
Jordel looked at them with a small smile, a light dancing in his eyes. “You forget that once, I was a hunter tasked with finding men like Xain. He shall not break the bonds I placed upon him.”
“But if he should?” said Annis, her voice quivering. She looked from Xain to Loren, as though seeking reassurance. The reins shook in her hands, and Loren felt pity well in her breast. “If he should manage to escape, will he not come seeking vengeance?”
Jordel looked at Annis with kindly eyes, but Gem’s face grew melancholy, and he slid from the saddle to stand before the Mystic. “We cannot just leave him here for some wandering soul to discover. I will stay and keep watch. Only do not forget to fetch me some food, for I may well starve before you return.”
Loren tried not to laugh. Jordel put a hand on Gem’s shoulder and answered him solemnly. “Your offer is valiant, young rogue, and I thank you for it. But I have told you that Xain will not escape, and I ask you to believe me. Even if I am proved wrong, you could not keep the wizard here unbound.”
Gem lifted his chin. “I could stop him.”
“I will not doubt you,” said Jordel. “But I will feed you. And Annis, if by some chance he should break his ropes, I do not think he would seek us out. More likely he would flee from here as fast as his feet could carry him, and hope to avoid us for all the rest of his days. Trust me, and come.”
They mounted and left. Loren looked back over her shoulder to see Xain staring with a menacing glare. Just before he vanished from sight, she saw him begin to struggle against the rope that bound his wrists. She shivered, then forced herself to believe in Jordel. He was a mage hunter, after all.
Jordel must have sensed their unease, for as they picked their way through the forest he spoke to them lightly.
“Strapa is not a place to leave your purse strings unguarded, and yet it is no grim village either. Any hub of trade will attract wandering villains and thieves, but those who live here are good folk, for the most part. Keep a clear eye and a strong bearing, and you will find no trouble. We will fetch ourselves new supplies quickly, then continue north on the Westerly Road.”
“It seems that Selvan is thick with those who pursue us,” said Annis. “Not only my family, but the Mystics as well. Why do we not travel through Dorsea, west of the mountains? It seems that way would put us farther from danger.”
“The borders of Dorsea will not stop my order, nor your kin,” said Jordel, “and indeed, I think they will guess our destination. Thus, we must not go there. Furthermore, with war brewing between that kingdom and this, travelers from Selvan would be most unwelcome. You are a child of the courts, and Gem a boy of the streets. You might disguise your voices, but Loren’s heavy accent would do us no favors in that land.”
Loren turned so quickly in surprise, she nearly fell from her saddle. “What accent? I speak as plainly as any other.”
“Indeed,” said Jordel with a faint smile. “As plainly as anyone from the Birchwood, born and raised in the kingdom of Selvan. As anyone could plainly hear.”
Gem laughed out loud. Annis giggled, “There’s no reason to be upset, Loren. He speaks the truth. Your voice is quite … regional.”
“It is not!”
“No, it is quite impossible to hear you have come from the forest, raised in a small village by parents who most likely chopped wood,” said Gem, speaking in an outlandish fashion, lilting the first sound of every word.
“That sounds nothing like me!” said Loren, her anger heating by the second.
“You had best still your tongue, Gem,” said Annis, a lig
ht dancing in her eyes. “Or she might beat you with her great wood-chopping arms.”
Loren hunched her shoulders and lowered her hood, fuming, while Gem and Annis continued their jibes. At least the children were happy, and the air seemed to have thinned. Xain’s presence had been a heavy weight upon them, and now his absence freed their tongues and lightened their hearts.
So they came at last to the village of Strapa, little more than a few buildings clustered in the Greatrocks’ looming shadow. Loren saw several homes, not dissimilar to the houses of her village in the Birchwood. A curious pang of homesickness rippled through her. She had never found cause to miss her village, for no fond memories had ever invited her mind. There with happy times with Chet, and the old storyteller Bracken, but all were dwarfed by her parents’ looming shadow.
Yet now, seeing this simple place against the backdrop of the mountains, Loren saw nobility in such a life. True, her youth had not been easy, but many in her village had seemed happy — as did many walking the streets of Strapa now. She had seen much excitement since fleeing the Birchwood, and much peril. Loren could hardly imagine returning to such a life. And yet, to her surprise, some part of her missed it, longing for the day when her greatest fear was not chopping enough logs to please her father.
But as their horses picked a slow, careful path through the streets, Loren thought she saw some truth in Jordel’s warning. Many curious eyes watched them as they went, and not all sat in friendly faces. Many seemed to be surveying their party, as if measuring a meal before feasting. But Jordel’s frame was impressive, and he carried a broad sword at his waist. And though she bore no open weapon, still Loren was tall for a girl. She threw back her shoulders, trying to look larger, and when she caught their glances they must have seen something in her eyes to deter them, for they quickly averted their own.
Streets spread out from the village center like a wagon wheel’s spokes. As they neared the town’s heart, houses gave way to inns, taverns, and shops of trade. Once they reached its center, four roads led away: one heading southwest to Wellmont; one to the southeast, from which they had come; another north, where they were bound; and finally a narrow road, with buildings pressing close on either side, going northwest.
Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm Page 2