Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm

by Garrett Robinson

  Annis jumped up as the door opened, her face a mask of fear. She relaxed when she saw them, then found her hysteria when Loren swung the door shut and saw that Jordel and Gem were missing.

  “Where are the others? What happened to Gem? What—”

  Loren pressed a bloody hand over the girl’s mouth, drawing Annis down to the floor. Albern picked up a waterskin and ran to the wall torch, dousing it and pitching them into blackness.

  Loren whispered in her ear.

  “They are gone. I lost them. They were taken.”

  The thrill of their flight seeped from her veins, and Loren found her cheeks with tears, blending with the rain and stray drops of blood. She repeated, “They are gone. I lost them.”

  Loren could say nothing more, her chest heaving in wracking sobs that she longed to silence. They heard footsteps outside, and the shouts of many soldiers. The dim glow of torches shone in the tiny crack between the door and the ground. But Loren hardly cared. She did not even notice when at last the footsteps and shouts receded, and the thin line of light vanished at the passageway’s bottom.

  “Gone,” she sobbed, as Annis turned around and pulled her into a heavy embrace. She pressed her face deep into the girl’s shoulder, letting her tears spill forth anew.

  Albern managed to light the torch again, and she could see his pained eyes. Across the passageway, Xain stared at his feet, his head bowed in grief.

  “Gone. I lost them,” said Loren as she wept. “Forgive me.”

  thirty-two

  “WE HAVE LITTLE TIME,” SAID Albern. “And no choice. We must flee the fortress.”

  It was some time later, and dawn’s thin grey light seeped in under the door. Loren hardly noticed. She sat against the wall, head bowed so far forward that it hung low between her knees. Her hair fell thin and scraggly, reminding her of Xain’s when he had suffered from the sickness. Wordless, she nodded.

  “What about Jordel and Gem?” said Annis. “You cannot mean to leave them.”

  “We do not know if they live.” Though Albern spoke sternly and without hesitation, Loren could hear a thickness in his voice that she had never heard before. “And I made Jordel a vow. I mean to fulfill it, as atonement for leading you upon this road.”

  “You have nothing to atone for,” said Loren. “We have had little choice from the moment we set out from Strapa. I curse the day we laid eyes upon this fortress. I would rather have walked back into the satyrs’ spears than this place.”

  Albern’s eyes filled with fresh pain, and he turned from Loren. “Curse not the fortress, but Strapa itself and the day you met me. I am to blame, and no other, for the fortune that has befallen you.”

  Loren raised her head to meet Albern’s gaze, not understanding. “You saved us in Strapa, Albern. Without you, the Mystics would have taken us.”

  “Without me, they would never have known you were there,” said Albern, eyes cast downward. “I reported you to the Mystics. They had already reached the town, and put out word with your party’s description. I followed you to the inn after you came to my shop, then sought the Mystics to tell them where you were.”

  Loren felt as if the ground crumble beneath her.

  “But … but you saved us. After the Mystics’ ambush, you led us to safety.”

  “That was my plan. I never meant to let them have you for long. I would either save you from their clutches in the village, as I did, or ambush the Mystics once they left Strapa with you in tow. I thought it was the only way you would choose to take the mountain pass, which I thought safer than the Westerly Road.”

  Her sense of disorientation vanished, replaced by a rising fury. “And because you thought it would place more coin in your pockets.” Loren’s voice boomed dangerously loud. “All along the road you pretended to befriend us, when in truth you thought only of gold.”

  Albern shook his head. “That is not so. I swear it. How often did Jordel offer more coin, only to have me refuse him?”

  “A fine show. Mayhap you thought to steal the rest once we were safely out of the mountains.”

  “I swear to you, on any oath you could ask, that I thought the mountain pass would be safer. How could I know this stronghold had been occupied? I thought we would face no danger greater than satyrs. I knew nothing of these Shades, or the Lord who rules them. I promise you.”

  “The promises of a liar mean nothing.” Loren went to the secret door and leaned her arm against it, shaking as she tried to calm herself. It would be fitting, she thought, to open the door and cast Albern out, to let him get caught by the Shades. He had brought this fate upon them. Let him reap what he had sown.

  But slowly, as her blood cooled and her fist stopped twitching, Loren realized the futility of her thought. Gem and Jordel were gone, and would not be helped if she lost Albern. Despite what he had done, he was the one who knew the mountains. If they managed to escape the stronghold, only Albern could lead them to Northwood. But how could she trust him, now that she knew the truth?

  Loren turned from the wall and looked at Albern, whose face was still cast down, shadowed from torch glow. Both Annis and Xain were looking at him, the wizard and the girl finally unified by their anger.

  “If you feel remorse for leading us astray, then prove it,” said Loren. “We must escape this fortress, and I cannot do it alone. Help me save those of us who remain.”

  “I will,” said Albern, looking up at Loren with pain in his eyes. “I swear it. Even at the cost of my life, for that would be a small payment.”

  “Very well,” said Loren. “How shall we do it?”

  “I have thought on that,” said Albern. “To escape, we shall need two things: horses, and an open gate. If you can take care of the gate, I shall fetch our horses from the corral.”

  “How?” said Loren. “Guards are posted, and they will not let you simply walk in and take them.”

  “I shall tend to that,” said Albern grimly. “I promise, they will not stand against me.”

  “Even if I trust you, how shall I open the gate? Rarely have I seen a gate, much less a guarded one.”

  “There is a winch that opens it, in the gate tower, likely on the first floor. You will see a great wheel, with a catch to hold it once raised.”

  Loren remembered when she and Jordel had visited the gate tower in disguise. She had seen the wheel then — large, almost as tall as her, and made with many spokes. “I saw it. But I do not know if I can open it myself. It was large.”

  “Fortress gates are cleverly made,” said Albern. “A single man may turn the wheel. Still, it might take you some time, and the guards will know something is amiss the moment you begin. So we must work in concert. The moment you hear commotion in the courtyard, which there surely will be once I make off with the horses, you must quickly open the gate. My distraction should give you time.”

  “Fine.” Loren looked from Albern to Xain. “Then there is only one matter remaining.”

  She went to the wizard and knelt before him. His eyes were clear as he looked back at her, bright without any trace of madness. Loren quailed at what she was about to do, then reminded herself that the Mystic had believed his remorse. If she could not trust Xain for herself, she could at least trust in Jordel.

  “I mean to free you from your bonds, Xain. Tell me, can I trust you not to betray us when I do?”

  Xain nodded slowly.

  Annis said, “You mean to free him? Now? This plan seems dangerous enough already.”

  Loren did not take her eyes from Xain. “Jordel said he would not leave the wizard behind. In his absence I am bound to carry out his orders. And we cannot make good our escape if we are dragging a man behind us. I cannot lift him atop a horse as Jordel did.”

  Loren reached out with her hunting knife and seized the wizard’s ankles. The ropes parted easily before her blade, and then the ones at his wrists. She waited. He did not try to remove his gag. After another moment’s pause, Loren reached up and removed it herself.

  �
�If you mean to speak words of power, say them now,” said Loren. “I would rather your betrayal come before our escape than in the middle, where it would send us into the hands of the Shades.”

  “I promised you no harm, Loren of the family Nelda.” His voice croaked, but he cleared his throat and continued, stronger. “I meant it. My magic is weak within me, and I doubt I will be able to make more than sparks for a while to come. But if I reach for those sparks, it will be only in your defense. And I echo Albern’s vow: if by my life, or death, I can see the two of you to safety, I will.”

  “I shall hold you to that.” Loren’s mind drifted to her cloak, and the two packets of magestones inside it. She suppressed a shiver. “You know I will not take your life. But if you should betray us again, with my final breath I will ensure you spend your remaining days in the Greatrocks, under the knives of Shades.”

  Loren stood and turned to Albern. “We move with the sun.”

  thirty-three

  LOREN THOUGHT LONG ABOUT KEEPING her cloak. But the day’s light was almost upon them, and the black cloth would give her little help within the castle. So she cast it aside and donned instead the blue cloak of her guardsman’s uniform, along with the helmet she had earlier stowed. Loren doubted the guise would withstand close scrutiny — if they had not known already, then surely by now the guards would be on the lookout for strangers in disguise. But it might give her the half-second advantage she would need in a fight, or an escape.

  After looking to be sure the way was clear, she and Albern slipped from their hiding place and into the fortress halls. Xain had wanted to come with Loren, but she refused. He was still too weak to help, and she did not want him unleashing magic that might draw attention. Instead, Xain and Annis would wait until they heard the stronghold’s alarms, then leave the secret hallway to meet Albern and Loren before the fortress gate.

  Loren had held on to the hope that Jordel and Gem might be brought to the jail cells at the castle entrance. Then they might be able to rescue their friends during their escape, but they had no such luck. As much as it pained her, Loren knew it was her duty to get Annis, at least, out of the stronghold. But once they left, she meant to convince the wizard, and mayhap Albern, to return and rescue the others. They could not try now. If they failed, then Annis would waste away behind the stronghold’s walls, and eventually fall into her mother’s clutches.

  They hoped to find the hallways empty, but the moment they entered the stronghold, Loren and Albern heard heavy bootsteps coming down the hall toward them. They had prepared, and with hands on their hilts, marched quickly down the hall in the other direction. The guards rounded the corner and saw them coming, but Loren and Albern tread with such conviction that the Shades gave them no second glance. They passed each other in the hallway, and soon Loren and Albern rounded the corner out of sight.

  “Carry on this way to the guardhouse while I make for the courtyard,” said Albern. “But hurry. It shall not take me long to free our horses, then we must ride with haste.”

  Loren nodded, and Albern left. She went to the end of the hall where the gatehouse door waited, but paused before opening it. There might be guards within, for she and Jordel had seen two when they had come this way before. If so, she planned to try Jordel’s ruse again; Loren would say she was there to replace one of them, and when they left, subdue the other. She drew a deep breath and stepped through the door.

  To Loren’s surprise, she found a lone guard on duty. He sat near the wheel, leaning back in a wooden chair. He shot to his feet when the door opened, then relaxed once he saw her.

  “Thought you might be the commander. He’s been making rounds ever since the spies escaped.”

  “Surprised to see but a single guard,” said Loren, looking around the room to make sure there was no one else about.

  “Of course there are two of us,” he scoffed. “The other had to relieve herself. She will be back in a moment. I told her it was a mistake, leaving post with command breathing down our necks. But I guess some things wait not.” He snickered.

  “Tis your good fortune then,” said Loren. “I have been sent to replace one of you. Command’s sent new orders. We are to stagger shifts, so everyone stays on higher alert. Since your partner’s missing, I suppose you get relief.”

  His eyes narrowed in suspicion. Loren knew she had made a mistake. “I have heard no such orders. Tell me the password, if you are to replace me.”

  Of course they would have set up a password. Loren rolled her eyes and stepped closer, letting her hand drift idly to the back of the chair opposite his, a few feet away. “Honestly, are you surprised that they have yet to tell us? Things are a mess since—”

  Loren seized the chair and swung it for his head. The man barely raised an arm in time, and cried out as the wood cracked against his forearm. Loren leapt forward, swinging again from above. This time she struck his helmet with a rattling clang, sending it flying to the floor. Still he did not fall. In desperation she dropped the chair, seized his cloak and struck him once, twice. Finally Loren slammed his head into one of the wheel’s spokes, and his eyes rolled back as he fell.

  “There’s your password,” she said, breathing heavily.

  Loren grabbed the spokes, then stopped. Albern had told her to wait for the clamor before turning. But what was taking him so long? She went to the window looking out into the courtyard and saw a clear view of the gate itself, spikes at the bottom of the portcullis sunk deep into the ground. A pair of guards sat on either side, holding spears, heads hanging low, hidden from the falling rain.

  Perhaps she should test it before Albern stole the horses. Surely no one would notice if she moved the gate an inch or two. They might think it was settling chains. With both hands on the wheel and one eye firmly on the portcullis, Loren tried giving the wheel a spin.

  But the wheel refused to move.

  Her heart skipped. She heaved and heaved, but the spokes would not budge. She looked desperately for the catch, then found the mechanism and the catch as Albern had described. But it was not in place.

  The gate should have opened easily.

  She pulled ever harder at the wheel. Still it would not turn. She began to panic — at any moment Albern would escape with the horses.

  Loren pulled again, gritting her teeth and straining. In frustration she struck the wheel with her fist. It shuddered and spun — in the opposite direction. Cursing herself for a fool, she took the wheel and tried again. It turned easily in her hand, from right to left instead of left to right. But through the window she saw the gate raise, not a few inches as she had intended, but two feet. The guards stood and seized their spears, shouting in alarm. After looking at the portcullis in confusion, they turned as one to the gatehouse.

  Guards shouted in the courtyard. Horses screamed amidst the clashing blades. Albern had made his move.

  Loren hauled again at the wheel, pulling as hard and quickly as she could. It moved easily now, and the iron mechanism caught with each turn to keep the gate from crashing down. The guards outside parried in confusion, unsure of whether to help their comrades in the courtyard or rush the gatehouse to see what was happening.

  The wheel finally stopped moving, the gate raised to its full height. Loren turned toward the door — but then it crashed open, and two men rushed inside with drawn swords. Outside, the bell rang to sound an alarm. Loren glanced at the doorway, now blocked by two burly soldiers, and turned to run up the stairs.

  They gave chase, shouting, but Loren wore no armor and moved much faster. She passed the middle landing, which was empty, and emerged atop the gate tower into open air. Rain soaked her at once. She shut the wooden hatch behind her, then turned the lever to hold it. Moments later she heard pounding from below as the guards tried to break through.

  Looking down into the courtyard, Loren saw Albern atop his bay, one hand leading Midnight and the other horses tied to his saddle. They had run in circles to avoid the guards, but now made for the open gate at a gall
op. One entire side of the corral had been cast down, and the other horses were running about in a panic at the clanging loud bell and shouting guards. Beyond them stood the burned husks of Yerrin caravans, now little more than a pile of ash amidst the charred, broken remains of wheel housings. She gave a grim smile.

  But the pounding at the hatch grew louder. She heard the splinter of wood as the catch slowly gave.

  An abandoned narrow walkway connected Loren’s tower to the other. She ran along it, searching for any means of escape.

  The hatch atop the other tower burst open, and guards flooded the open air.

  Loren skidded to a halt on the soaking wet stone. She could not go forward, nor back. In desperation she looked over the walkway, but the courtyard lay some twenty feet below. The front was the same.

  Loren saw the portcullis. Raised as it was, its iron grid was six feet below the wall’s top.

  Before the guards reached out to grasp her, Loren vaulted over the front of the wall and caught the gate. She wore the guards’ leather gloves, but still the impact shot agony through her mangled hands.

  Ignoring it, she swiftly climbed down, one arm’s length at a time, using the iron bars like a ladder. As she neared the portcullis bottom, Albern shot out from the gate atop the horses. Loren cried out, and he wheeled around to look up.

  “Jump!”

  The distance still seemed too great, but she had little choice. Loren fell, and came down hard on the entranceway stones. Mercifully, her ankle did not twist beneath her as she fell, rolling with the impact, and involuntarily yelping as her ribs shrieked.

  She came up scrabbling and ran for the horses.

  Behind her, Yerrin men and Shades had gathered. They were charging, scarcely a few yards behind. Xain and Annis, hidden around the wall’s side, burst into view and ran for Albern. They reached the horses almost in unison, jumping up and atop their saddles. With a cry and the kick of his heels, Albern spurred his bay out and across the bridge. The other horses followed, and together they fled the stronghold as their pursuers’ cursing faded behind them.