Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  “Most likely they were right, for I know the sort of stories mercenary captains tell,” said Albern with a snort.

  “What of mercenaries themselves?” Anniss leaned forward, smiling. “You must have a fair few tales.”

  So Albern told his stories whenever they broke from riding. He would recount brief tales during the midday meal, then longer ones when they camped for the night, always while Annis and Gem watched him wide eyes and, often, open mouths.

  At first Loren did not pay much attention, for she was not overly fond of sellswords. They worked for coin, which she found distasteful, and their trade was death, which she found abhorrent. But Albern dwelt little on such things. Most often he told them of jokes shared with his brothers in the company, or described great cities seen in his travels. He seemed as averse to the battles as Loren, for he mentioned them only in passing, or when required by the story.

  Soon she sat by the fire, rapt as Annis and Gem whenever Albern spoke. Her heart burned with lust for far-off lands. Many places and strange things she had seen since leaving the Birchwood, yet Loren had never seen anything half so magnificent as the places in Albern’s stories.

  “I would see such sights,” Loren said one night when their guide had finished yet another tale. She said it quietly, scarcely more than a murmur — she had not meant to say it aloud. But when they all looked at her with interest, she lifted her head and continued. “I wish to see them. I have often dreamed of great cities and far-off kingdoms. You have seen them all, and more sights I never imagined. I have little to hold me in any one place. And when I can, I shall see these places you speak of.”

  “I hope to give you that chance,” said Jordel, giving Loren a firm look. “Our duties will carry us to many of the nine lands. Of that you need not fear.”

  Loren blushed, for in her excitement she had nearly forgotten the Mystic, and how she was pledged to his service. But she did not regret it, for she sensed he was right. Jordel was not a man of Selvan, but of all the kingdoms at once, and by his side Loren would see more than she ever could alone.

  “Travel and see what you will,” said Albern. “I will not deny I have many fond memories of the nine lands. But such memories shine brighter than the places themselves. Often I could hardly see the city for fear I would die in a coming battle, else my wits were muddled by wine and ale. Only looking back does it seem so golden.”

  “I would suffer much discomfort now for such fond memories to my later years,” Loren said. “Seems a fair trade.”

  “Fair enough indeed.” Albern smiled. “But now we rest.”

  After four days the pass dove back down the mountainside, curving upon itself as it had during their climb. Weather grew fairer, and the wide river valley sprawled before them in a stunning tapestry of green. The river ran clear, cutting through wide fields of grass and small clusters of trees, like a string of sapphires laid upon a sheet of fine green satin with emeralds sewn into the cloth.

  Clouds cleared as they reached the valley floor near the end of the day, and the party basked in the sun.

  Loren threw her cloak back over her shoulders. Jordel caught her attention with a sharp cough. She met his eyes, and he dipped them to her belt. Loren looked down to see her dagger in plain sight. Quickly she yanked the left half of her cloak forward to cover the weapon. Thankfully Albern took no notice.

  That was careless. I must never forget that I carry a great danger.

  Loren wondered what made her keep the weapon, for it offered little help if she would not use it. But something would not let her throw it away. It had been the first thing she stole as the Nightblade. More than that, it felt part of her now. The dagger had saved her from certain doom more than once. She would not repay that service by casting it aside.

  They had but one day to enjoy the lush valley, for the pass climbed again on the next. Albern took it, though the valley floor carried on straight and out of sight.

  “Why can we not keep on this way?” Gem asked. “I like the wide ground far better than the narrow path in the clouds.”

  “Oh, this road looks fair enough,” said Albern. “But soon another mountain will block it. The journey around would cost us several days, while the pass runs straight.”

  “Then let us take it,” said Jordel. “And we should hasten. I have enjoyed the sun as much as anyone, but fear it makes us lazy.”

  They alternated between walking and trotting. It lent them little speed, but they could not push the horses faster, for the ground was steep and rocky. The weather soured again, as if to punish them for leaving the valley floor.

  Rain abated before nightfall, and Albern found them a cleft in the mountainside to keep them dry if it started again. The storm had stopped, but the night was still cold.

  Loren had the first watch, and spent it damp and miserable in the cleft’s mouth, too far from the fire to dry out. She looked back in anger at Xain — bound but warm near the flames — then saw his body shivering and twitching, not from the cold. His eyes were free from blood now, but they rolled about in their sockets. He shivered and tugged at his bonds, covered in a thin sheen of sweat. Loren turned her back, no longer envious.

  Loren woke Albern the second both moons appeared above the mountains, and slept so near the fire she feared waking aflame.

  They were lucky to have taken shelter, for rain indeed fell through the night, and the next day wetter than the last. The third day rained hardest, and Gem began to sniff and sneeze with a cold. Worse yet, their horses had trouble picking their way on the path. Midnight was a fine steed and sure-footed, and Albern’s bay must have been used to the mountains, but Jordel’s great charger was heavy and the children’s plowhorse unsure. Every time they began to slide, Loren’s heart would stop, and she pictured them pitching out over the path’s edge. For safety they rode as close to the mountain as possible.

  Albern had warned them of rockslides in the rain, and when at last one struck it nearly ended in disaster. Sharp lightning cracked above them, and a deep rumble thundered through the ground. The plowhorse grew frightened, rearing dangerously. Annis had much practice on horseback and held on, but it caught Gem unaware. He pitched backwards to the ground, straight for the road’s edge.

  Loren gave a great shout and jumped from Midnight’s back. She slid on the wet rocks toward the edge and snatched Gem’s arm at the final second. He rolled from the edge and into her arms, then she pushed back with her feet as though the void beyond were reaching for them both.

  For a long moment they lay there, Loren panting heavily, Gem clutching her arms as if he would never let go. She looked down and saw him crying, terrified, tears spilling to mingle with the rainwater.

  “There,” she murmured. “It is all right.”

  “I am fine,” he said, pushing away to stand, wiping furiously at his face, trying to look as though he were brushing off rainwater. “It just caught me by surprise. I will hold tighter to Annis.”

  Loren helped him back into the saddle despite his protests, and they kept on their way. But her panic bloomed whenever the horses seemed unsure of their footing, and she held herself tensed to leap from the saddle at a moment’s notice.

  On the fourth day, their path ended.

  They came up short against a great rock wall. Loose earth and many boulders had slid down from the mountainside to block the path. They sat still in their saddles, staring at the debris as though they could move it with their minds.

  “We shall have to turn back,” said Albern.

  “We would not, if you had let us carry along on the valley’s road,” said Gem. “Now we have wasted days of travel, and I have nearly been killed. A fine guide you are.”

  Albern turned to the boy, his eyes flashing. “Even the best guide cannot foresee every rock slide. You would have fared much worse were I not here, that I can promise.”

  Gem ducked behind Annis and said, “I suppose we shall never know.”

  Jordel asked, “If we turn back, how many days will it ad
d to our journey?”

  Albern fixed him with a look. “Does it matter? You say ‘if,’ but the rocks will not move themselves.”

  Jordel tossed his head in impatience, then turned his horse back down the path.

  nine

  THEY RODE QUICKER ON THE path back down, and made the valley in three days where climbing had taken four. But Jordel’s face remained dour, and he cut every rest short. Albern seemed to pick up on the Mystic’s mood, and he told no tales when they paused, eating his food quickly and quietly.

  Rain followed them through the descent, and kept pouring upon them as they rode along the valley. Soon enough they saw the truth in Albern’s warning: the road ran straight to the foot of a great peak before turning west to loop around it. Since the road was clear and wide, they rode hard, and when they finally stopped after sundown Loren felt as weary as she was sore.

  As Jordel lowered Xain from his charger, the wizard moaned. A quiet sound, and piteous. He lay on the grass, body twisted back and forth across the ground. Loren’s stomach clenched. Albern looked at Xain, frowning.

  “Is there no way to quiet him?” said Albern.

  “Not without medicines I do not have,” said Jordel. “Why? Do you fear discovery?”

  Albern looked out into the darkness rimming the small circle of firelight. “I hope not. But the further north we go, the more likely we are to find eyes in the darkness around us. Mayhap they will be friendly, but mayhap not.” He fell silent, and no one answered.

  After she had eaten ravenously of Jordel’s spare food, Loren took a brief walk to ease her aching legs, and escape the wizard’s groaning.

  “Take your bow,” said Jordel. “For protection, but also in case you spy a bird or a rabbit.”

  “A fair idea,” Loren nodded. “I will not be gone long.”

  Annis stood. “Wait. I wish to go with you.”

  Jordel sat to converse with Albern about the road ahead. They had spoken each night since they were forced to turn back on the pass, for now speed was more important than ever. Gem looked at the girls, then at Jordel and Albern speaking tersely by the fire. He too gained his feet and ran to catch up. Together the three of them ventured into the darkness, away from the fire. It took Loren’s eyes a moment to adjust, but the moons shone bright in the sky and painted everything with a keen silver light.

  Annis said, “I am sick to death of these mountains. Or mayhap the rain. Perhaps the sores from my saddle. I suppose I am sick of it all.”

  “I do not mind it so much,” Loren shrugged. “Tis good to ride without much fear of pursuit — a fine change from the last many weeks.”

  Annis waved a hand. “I would rather rest somewhere in peace and quiet than find it upon the road. When first I left the High King’s seat I was excited by the journey, but the many miles have almost made me long for our manor.”

  “Truly?” said Loren. “I would have thought parting ways with your mother would have made your travels seem sweeter.”

  Annis picked at a string on her sleeve. “I suppose. Yet I will happily retire to a bed, a chair and a fire if given the chance.”

  Loren stopped and turned to them both, struck by an idea. “Mayhap you can have more than that. What if we found you a place to stay, once we have safely left Selvan behind us? And you as well, Gem.”

  The children looked at Loren as though she were mad. “What sort of place? Jordel’s stronghold, you mean?”

  Loren shook her head, growing more excited. “No, not that — some noble’s manor, far from any court where Yerrin or the Mystics might find you. I am certain Jordel would know of such a place. You would be safe from all prying eyes — even your mother’s.”

  Gem’s face grew angry. “You mean to leave us behind, while you and Jordel carry on with his quest?”

  His fury confused her, but Annis’s pained expression was worse. “What have I done to offend you?” she said. “Why would you cast me aside?”

  “I … you have done nothing,” Loren said, suddenly unsure. “But you have seen the dangers of our road, and I think it will grow far darker before its end. You have had nowhere to go beyond my side, but I know Jordel could arrange it.”

  “What makes you think we want somewhere else to go?” said Gem. “Did we ever ask you for one?”

  “She just said so!” Loren pointed to Annis. “And you are always complaining of the cold and the rain and how little we have to eat. You cannot tell me you would rather have this life than one of peace and plenty.”

  “I spoke only of wanting a rest,” said Annis, her sadness slowly turning to anger. But where Gem’s was like a fire, hers was a ball of ice clenched in a fist. “I did not ask to leave. Mayhap I thought more of our friendship than you.”

  “And I have pledged myself to your service!” said Gem. “You took my word and my promise. You cannot cast them aside. It is … it is dishonorable.” He spat the word like a curse.

  Loren was at a loss, and growing annoyed. “You are acting like children. No one could wish for danger upon the road when offered solace instead. Neither of you are fully grown. You should be spending your days learning, not riding from one peril into the next like a matching set of fools.”

  “Says the fool herself,” said Annis. “I have already had one woman who plotted my course without asking. I left her as soon as I was able, and mayhap I shall do so again.”

  Anniss turned from Loren and stormed off. Gem said, “You may plan whatever you wish for me. But if you think to leave me behind, make sure you tie me. Lock me in a cellar for good measure, for I can escape bonds quite easily.” Then he left to follow Annis.

  Loren stood in the dark with no idea what she had done wrong. The children were acting mad, to her mind, but she had not the first clue what to do.

  She walked deep into the moonlight, seeking a target for her bow. Hunting always cleared her mind. But now she kept thinking of Annis’s injured face, and the anger on Gem’s. When she finally spotted a quail at roost she shot, but distraction sent her arrow wide. The quail flew off with a startled squawk, and she could not recover her arrow in the moonslight. With many curses and dark mutters Loren stalked back to the camp, laying down to rest while trying not to meet a single eye.

  The journey was nearly unbearable after that. Gem and Annis rode in stony silence, and when the party stopped they sat alone to talk. They refused to meet Loren’s gaze, and no longer asked Albern for stories. Jordel was caught up in his worry for the road, but even he noticed their strange behavior. One day he led Loren from the camp and asked her what had happened. She told him, trying not to let her anger at the children show.

  To her surprise, Jordel smiled. “I wish you had spoken to me first. You should have expected no different. They are both so fond of you.”

  “It was the thought of a moment, not some grand design!” said Loren. “I am fond of them as well, though just now I am nearly angry enough to forget it. I wish only to keep them safe.”

  “Safety is rarely the greatest concern of the young, for they have little understanding of true danger. But I do not think it is their youth that makes them act thus. Tell me, if I offered you the same chance, would you take it?”

  Loren looked at him in surprise. “I … I would be out of place in a noble’s court.”

  “Gem could say the same thing. But is it your unease with nobility that holds you back, or something else? Could you sit in safety and silence, sewing pretty dresses for dances and festivals?”

  Jordel’s words found shape in Loren’s mind. Yet she could not place herself inside the thought, nor see her face within it. Whenever she thought of sewing and courtly graces and curtseys, her mind turned elsewhere.

  She looked at Jordel, troubled. “Anyone would wish for that kind of life. Tis a dream, and many would scheme or kill to get it.”

  “Many have. But not all belong to such a life. What did Annis say when we stayed in Strapa? Mayhap such folk as us are meant for a life on the endless road, always running from place
to place, never settling long enough to plant roots. Once I thought my journeys might end in a court, or at least a home, with a family. The last many years have given me cause to doubt it.”

  Loren turned from the Mystic. “Then you are as foolish as the children, or more so, for I believe you have seen enough fighting and danger to have wearied long ago.”

  “What wearies one may excite another. Did Albern seem half so lively in his bowery as he does here in the mountains? I think he convinced himself that a life of ease and comfort was his dream. But Albern was wrong.”

  “These are all pretty words. But the children could die, here upon the road.”

  “Yes,” said Jordel, with a heavy sigh. “That is my fear. But even children have lives, and those lives are theirs, Loren. We can advise them, and as their elders it is our duty to do so. We can even admonish them, or discipline them for wrongdoing. But their choices must always belong to them. Tis a truth for everyone under the sun.”

  Loren looked at him curiously. “You are of a strange mind, Jordel of the family Adair.”

  The Mystic bowed. “Come. Tis time we were back on the road.”

  ten

  THEY PASSED THE GREAT MOUNTAIN in the valley’s middle nearly a week after returning to its floor. There the path split again. One branch carried on straight, while the other rose into the mountains. Albern gave Jordel a pointed look.

  “Which road shall it be? The faster road has its risks as you have seen, but as ever the course is yours to choose.”

  “The faster,” said Jordel without hesitation. “Rock slides cannot have blocked every path north, and the weather now is milder than it was. Mayhap we can recover lost time.”

  “As you say,” said Albern, and he led them up.

  Gem accepted this new path without grumbling, for once. Perhaps he remembered Albern’s chastisement the last time, or mayhap he was still too angry at Loren to speak when she might reply. But they rode the first day in silence without trouble, then the second, and the third.