Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  Loren stopped beside Albern and turned to look. She saw nothing, for the path was empty, and not a creature moved upon the valley floor. Yet Loren thought she could feel what Albern must have sensed: a curious tension, something she could not identify, raising the hairs on her neck.

  “What is it?” Loren had not meant to speak so softly, but her voice left in a whisper.

  “I do not know,” said Albern. “Only that I hear no birds.”

  He was right. No birdsong drifted up from the valley floor. Loren chastised herself for not noticing earlier; she prided herself as a daughter of the forest, yet clearly the last few months had not been kind to her woodcraft. “Is something following us?”

  “That is my guess. Mayhap the satyrs. But if so, they are skulking in shadows and corners.”

  “Perhaps that is a good thing. It means they are frightened.”

  “Satyrs do not stalk travelers. They are either angry and willing to fight, or they avoid men altogether. This is new. And that is not all.”

  “What else?” said Jordel, riding up behind them.

  “You remember what Tiglak said when he attacked? He spoke of a Lord. But satyrs have only elders, no lords that I know of.”

  Loren shrugged. “Sounds like a different name for the same thing.”

  “Details tell secrets,” said Albern. “And I tell you that hearing a satyr speak of a lord — especially, as it sounded, a lord who is not a satyr himself — is like hearing a bear speak before it attacks. The bear is no more dangerous than it was before — and yet you should be more frightened, for it should not be talking.”

  Loren wanted to say that she did not understand, but saw a dark look on the Mystic’s face; clearly he took Albern’s point, and she did not wish to look a fool. “What should we do, then?” she said instead.

  “We can only ride on,” said Albern. “And be on our guard in case they attack beyond this careful stalking. It would be almost a relief if they did.”

  “I might not go that far,” Jordel said. “Yet I, too, dislike the silence.”

  “Fortunately our journey will not be much longer,” said Albern. “Soon our road will take us down and out of the mountains. In two days we shall come to a small town where we may freshen supplies, and mayhap rest.”

  Jordel frowned. “We will fill our saddlebags, but cannot afford any time off the road. Let us quickly make for the town, for already this journey has stretched overlong.”

  Soon after they reached a fork in the road. One way ran straight ahead, continuing their precarious path along the western mountains’ side. The other way turned east and crossed a narrow chasm, then vanished within the mountains to the east. A stone bridge crossed the divide. It was old and worn, but still looked sturdy.

  “That is the way east,” said Albern with obvious relief. “Come, let us make haste.”

  They spurred their horses and swiftly rode for the bridge. But no sooner had their horse’s hooves touched the first stones than there was a great cry from the other end. Many satyrs appeared from hiding spots among the rocks, some bounding from cliff faces on the other side. Arrows screamed toward them.

  “Get back!” Jordel turned his charger in retreat.

  The party fell back in disarray, hiding themselves behind a great boulder at the fork.

  “That was why they stalked,” said Jordel. “They meant to ambush us upon the bridge, where we were most exposed.”

  “If that was their intent, they did a poor job,” said Albern, frowning. “They should have waited until we were mostly across and their archers had a clearer shot.”

  “They are practically animals,” said Annis. “What would they know of such strategies?”

  “Satyrs may not be wise in the ways of books and cities, but in mountain warfare they have no equal,” said Albern. “If their attack posed little danger, it is because they meant to drive us back.”

  “Why?” But Loren guessed the answer as she asked. “They want us to take the north road. What lies that way?”

  Albern shook his head. “Nothing of any importance — certainly nothing the satyrs would care for. There is only an old fortress, abandoned for centuries. The road turns east, leading from the mountains then back to the village we aim for. It would add a few days to our journey, but would not stop us.”

  “Then we must push across this bridge,” said Jordel. “We shall ride out and charge them. I doubt they will stand against two fighters on horseback.”

  Albern nodded and unslung his bow. Gem leaned forward from behind Annis, his eyes shining. “Let me ride with you. I still have my sword.”

  “But you wear no mail,” said Jordel, “and cannot return fire with your own arrows. If things go poorly, you will leave Annis horseless and unable to flee. No, Gem. Your time to ride will come, but not now.”

  So saying, he and Albern spurred their horses toward the bridge. Albern gave a great undulating cry, and Jordel a shout, their voices carrying far in the crisp mountain air. Xain jostled on Jordel’s horse as they rode.

  Rather than shrinking from fright, the creatures had nearly doubled. They fired a fresh hail of arrows at their approach. The arrows all fell short, but forced the horses to skid. Then the front line of goat-men charged with their spears. Jordel traded a few hasty blows, and Albern felled three with arrows. The rest were undeterred.

  Jordel cried out and turned his horse. Albern followed. Together they fled back to the others.

  “A staunch defense,” said Jordel.

  “More so than it should have been,” Albern agreed. “They are not used to facing a horsemen attack. Something is at work here, and I do not like it.”

  Terrible jeers echoed from the other side of the bridge, along with guttural cries of Men! and Trespassers! Then, a wet thunk. The satyrs had thrown something heavy by the boulder. Loren peeked for a better look, then gasped and recoiled, as did Albern and Jordel. Gem and Annis covered their eyes.

  It was the head of a satyr. The horns had been removed — not cut off, but yanked out at the roots. It bore many welts and bruises. Still, Albern stared in grim recognition.

  “It is Tiglak. He made his parley with us, and his elders disapproved. This was his punishment. We bargained with his life, and they have rejected that gift.”

  “They will not let us pass in peace,” said Loren. “And we cannot break them with war. It seems we must take the north road.”

  “No,” Jordel said. “That will take too long.”

  “What choice do we have?” Loren insisted. “What if one of the children takes an arrow, or their horse is stricken with terror and bolts off the bridge? It is not a warhorse like yours.”

  “They mean to guide us toward Albern’s fortress,” Gem said. “If they want us to go there, I would rather not.”

  “I share your sentiment,” said Jordel. “I dislike the sound of this place, and have never heard of it besides.”

  “Is that a great wonder?” Albern shrugged. “Do you know every stronghold in the nine lands, including those where men have never set foot in a thousand years?”

  “Enough that a lonely castle in the Greatrocks should have been known to me,” said Jordel.

  “It seems that our choices are to make for the fortress, or fight the satyrs,” said Loren. “And I do not believe this is a fight we can win.”

  Jordel still looked doubtful. He turned to Albern. “You are certain the place is abandoned?”

  “I am certain of nothing,” said Albern. “I have not seen it in ten years. Yet if it had been occupied, I would surely have heard. The movements of Selvan’s armies are rarely unknown to me.”

  “Very well,” said Jordel. “We will take the western fork. I will ride in the rear with Loren, to ensure the satyrs do not surprise us upon the road.”

  They turned their horses and rode. Satyrs jeered behind them. As they rounded the first bend on the mountain pass, Loren looked back to see Tiglak’s head in the dirt. It seemed to her that his eyes held a warning.

&nb
sp; nineteen

  THE MOOD WAS DOUR AS they rode, and the party neither smiled nor spoke. Doom hovered above — some dark fate looming ahead that they could neither turn from nor hope to avoid. As the sun slowly fell behind the mountains, Loren heard a deep swoosh and looked up.

  She cried out, and they all froze in fear. Albern and Jordel followed Loren’s gaze, and their hands went to their weapons.

  Great winged beasts dove and swooped through the air. In her first flash of terror, Loren thought they were dragons, for they had great leathery wings like the beasts of legend. Yet she knew that for a foolish thought; these beasts were far too small. A small comfort, for their wings still stretched wider than Loren was tall, and their legs ended in great taloned claws. Their upper bodies looked female, ending in a woman’s head with long flowing hair, though their mouths were filled with inch-long razor-sharp teeth.

  “Harpies.” Albern sounded terrified. “Dark creatures who feast on human flesh. I have never seen their kind in the Greatrocks before.”

  “But you have seen them?” Gem’s voice quivered and broke. “How do you kill them?”

  “Same as most things,” said Albern. “An arrow in the eye or the heart is best. A blade will do. They are not elves, impervious to spear or steel.”

  “What are they doing?” said Loren. “Why do they not attack?”

  “We are armed. Likely they do not want to risk themselves.”

  To Loren, Albern sounded unsure.

  Gem reached for his shortsword, never moving his eyes from the beasts. Jordel slapped his reins against the charger’s neck. “Let us ride on. They have an evil look, and I do not like the way they circle.”

  The harpies followed them into sunset. Albern searched hard for a cave, for none of the party wished to camp in the open where the harpies could see them, or attack if they decided to do so. At last he found it, when the day’s glow had nearly gone from the sky. They spent little time searching to make sure it was empty, and hurried inside after seeing that the entrance was clear.

  “We should have two on guard tonight,” said Albern.

  “I thought the same,” Jordel agreed. “Gem, we will require your help on watch tonight.”

  “And mine,” said Annis, folding her arms. “I’m older than he is, anyway.”

  Jordel looked at her in surprise. “Forgive me, Annis. I made a mistake, judging you both by your height. You will take the morning, and I will stand with you myself.”

  Loren volunteered for the first watch, and stayed Gem awake with her, for she knew the boy would never be roused early if he went to sleep with the others. They spent an anxious and nerve-wracking three hours pacing the cave’s mouth, neither wishing to speak. Finally, as the moons neared the eastern mountaintops and their watch was nearly ended, Gem sat against the cave wall and leaned his head against it, dark hair glowing blue in the moonslight.

  “I had thought our jaunt through the mountains would go a touch different than it has,” he said. “This is no great adventure, but a fearful flight into darkness.”

  “Most adventures are, or so I have been told. Tis only afterward, when they are put into story and song, that they sound anything like the tales we hear around a fire.”

  “Who told you that?” Gem eyed Loren with interest.

  “An old man who used to travel through my village, once upon a time. A peddler by trade, but people valued him more for his stories than the wares in his wagon. He called himself Bracken.”

  “An odd name.”

  “Said the boy named Gem.”

  “Gem is a fine name. It glitters.”

  They were silent long enough that Loren thought he was done. But then Gem leaned forward, folded his hands and spoke in a softer voice.

  “I do not want for you to send me away. But I am pledged to you, and swore to do as you wished. I have decided that if you care to secret me away in some noble’s home, I will go. I can use my time to study the sword, read many tomes of learning, and become useful to you again. Then you will not need to hide me away, because it will be better to have me with you.”

  Loren looked at Gem in surprise, her heart sinking.

  “You cannot think that I wish to be rid of you. You are one of the first friends I made after leaving the Birchwood, and one of my only friends in the world besides.”

  “But I know that sometimes being a friend is not enough. You and Jordel have many great deeds to do. I am only in the way, as much as I like to pretend otherwise.”

  Loren sank to her knees before him. Gem’s hands hung limp, resting on his legs. Gently she took them to clasp between hers. “I do not wish to be rid of you. Nothing would give me greater joy than spending my days with you and Annis by my side, the three of us laughing and making merry. But that coin has two sides. Nothing I can imagine frightens me more than the thought of your harm. If either of you were hurt, or worse, I could not bear it. I nearly went mad with worry when Xain took Annis. I wish only for your safety.”

  “What good is that? I was safe enough in Cabrus. Always I could evade the constables, and even if they had caught me, they do not cut the fingers from children. I did not leave the city for safety.”

  “And I was wrong to think you did,” said Loren. “You and Annis both. She was well within her rights to chastise me, for your lives are not mine. And if you wish to stay by my side,I will not deny either of you, for in truth nothing would make me happier.”

  Gem lunged forward, wrapped his arms around Loren’s chest, and held her tight. She embraced him back, and he trembled against her, silent even as his tears soaked through her shirt sleeve. Then he let go and turned, trying to hide his eyes so she could not see them.

  “Come,” he said. “I think our watch has ended. Well will I enjoy my slumber tonight.”

  In the morning, Loren found Jordel awake by the cave entrance. Annis sat nearby on the ground, her head nodded against her chest, eyes shut in slumber. Albern drew Jordel aside to discuss the road ahead. Loren drifted closer to overhear them, making a show of fiddling with Midnight’s saddle.

  “I have thought much about our course,” said Albern. “I share your concern, for if the satyrs and harpies wish to drive us toward the fortress, I do not wish to go there any more than you. Thus I offer another way: a track that will take us higher into the Greatrocks, riding the peaks on a more perilous path. It will add some days to our journey.”

  “Longer and more dangerous at once?” said Jordel. “It hardly seems wise.”

  “Yet it seems to me less wise to carry along a course that our pursuers wish us to take,” Albern argued. “Though the road along the peaks may be hard, it seems better to face the dangers we know than whatever mysterious peril may await us in the abandoned fortress.”

  “I see what you mean,” said Jordel. “And I admit my heart is greatly relieved, for it has been troubled at the thought of being driven toward some unknown end. But can we change our course? The satyrs stopped us once. They may try to head us off again, and now they have help from the skies.”

  “Then at least we will know we are being driven.” Albern sighed. “There is still some hope, however vain, that the satyrs are not trying to guide us, and that their display on the bridge was only some show of dominance after our attack on Tiglak. But if we make for the peaks and they stop us again, we will know for certain that danger awaits in the stronghold. And as I said, better a certain danger than something unknown.”

  “A grim choice, yet it seems clear,” said Jordel. “Very well. We make for the peaks. Loren, since you have been standing there eavesdropping and know our plan, you had best ready the others for our journey.”

  Loren gave a start and turned away. “I was only tending to my saddlebags.”

  “Of course you were,” said Jordel, a wry twist in his mouth. “Nevertheless, ready the children, and tell them to dress warmly. Our road will soon grow colder.”

  Loren did as she was asked, and it was well that she did, for the air hung cold and damp about
them as they rode. Soon the water formed into droplets and began to pelt them, gently at first, then hard, like small stones falling from the sky. The road was narrow and rocky. Albern bade them ride as close to the mountainside as possible.

  “Walk your horses slowly, and take care to not slip,” he said. “I need not tell you what would happen if you fell from this height.”

  Despite the rain, the harpies swooped in circles above. The creatures seemed to give no mind to the cold, nor to the water that doused their bodies as they flew. Birchwood birds had fled for cover when rain fell — water got into their feathers and turned their flight perilous. But the harpies wide leathery wings suffered no ill effects.

  Abruptly, Albern turned them from the path and climbed steeply up the mountain. At first Loren was shocked, for she had not seen a trail. But then her eyes found a stray stone, and then another, flat packed dirt leading at a sharp angle up toward the peaks of the Greatrocks. None of the paths thus far had been so steep, and their mounts struggled in the mud forming under their hooves.

  They had not climbed more than a hundred feet when they heard a great screeching above, and the air filled with the whoosh of leathery wings. Jordel drew his sword, Albern nocked an arrow, and the harpies descended.

  The beasts showed their fangs as they screamed, and the sound was terrible, like a pig suffering slaughter. Great taloned legs stretched forth, reaching for the travelers.

  Albern loosed two arrows in the space of a second; one of the harpies fell from the sky, plummeting lifeless toward the valley floor. Its companion swerved aside at the final second and the shaft whizzed by without harm. The others scattered before Loren could think to draw her own bow — but at last she did, whipping an arrow from the quiver at her hip. Drawing it like Albern was still too foreign, so she drew the way she had learned from Chet in the Birchwood, holding her fire until she could clear a shot.