The Flame Weaver

by Elicker, Tania

  “Trust me!” Kazen cried out desperately. “I don’t know what evil enchantment has been cast on this place that veils the truth from your eyes. I do know, however, that if you touch that poison to your lips you will almost certainly die. At the very least, it may drive you mad or deaden your heart to all you hold dear.”

  Ilagon tossed a stone into the black stream. “Well, we cannot ignore what Kazen sees through his eyes. Though our throats thirst, we will not be undone by a paltry illusion of Gregore’s making.”

  Kazen sighed with relief. He had begun to worry that his friends were so consumed with thirst that they would not heed his warnings.

  Shanks stared longingly back at the trickling stream, shaking his head with disdain. “I still say the water’s fine,” he muttered under his breath, trudging his way up the ridge. “The boy’s just bleary-eyed from hunger and thirst, if you ask me.”

  E’enna fell alongside Kazen, putting her hand on his back. “He’s not really angry at you.”

  “I know.” Kazen shrugged. “This place has worn us all down. I worry it may whittle us down to our bones before the end.”

  There suddenly came a turbulent eruption of commotion from over the eastern ridge. Howls and snarls flooded over the silent hills, so suddenly that Kazen nearly leapt out of his skin. The deviant baying of hounds soon mingled with the bellows of men and the ringing of steel.

  Kazen rushed to the top of the ridge and peered cautiously over the summit. Below, amid a cloud of churning dust, a small army of men clashed headlong into a pack of startled shadowhounds. The beasts were just as Kazen remembered them. It was a sight, and a stench, that he had hoped to never look upon again, especially in such numbers. As many as fifty hounds yipped and scattered, fleeing from the sudden onslaught.

  The band of men, perhaps twenty of them, launched themselves bravely into the fray. They were clad proudly in green-leather armor, adorned with many brass buckles and clasps. They wore loosely drawn hoods of the same green hue on their heads, instead of helmets, leveled to their brows and with their faces masked, only their piercing eyes were left revealed. They brandished sleek swords, short and swift but honed only on a single, subtly curved edge. And each man wielded his sword with skill and grace as though he had been born blade in hand.

  Though the men were skilled and fearless, the beasts were quick to recover and turn on their attackers. The men’s weak armor could not stay the vicious fury of nipping teeth and slashing claws. Bones crumbled and flesh rended before the immense beasts. For every hound that fell, another would take its place until the men finally found themselves wholly surrounded and cut off from retreat.

  “Watchmen of Halifex,” Shanks whispered, crouching beside Kazen. “It is said they are the finest swordsmen of any land.”

  “This is one battle they will not win,” Kazen said with much alarm. “They are outnumbered and surrounded. We must help them!”

  “No!” Ilagon snapped. “These men are already lost. We cannot save them.”

  Shocked at Ilagon’s callousness, Kazen fumbled out his words. “These may be the last survivors of the Halifex army! We cannot let them perish to creatures of shadow before our very eyes! They battle the dark tide at our feet! If we do not fight for them, then who do we fight for?”

  “These men . . .!” Ilagon shook his head with frustration. “These men have willingly flung themselves into a hopeless battle. That we are here to witness their folly is no cause to jeopardize our mission.”

  “How can you be so cold? I would never think there a time that you could so easily turn your back on those in need.”

  “You think it comes easy?” Ilagon retorted angrily. “We have not been sent to this wretched place to make easy choices, I thought you had learned that by now! We have no use of our magic, lest we bring more dragons down upon our heads. Going into this lost battle with only our blades would likely end us all in death. Where will the world be once we have so heedlessly thrown the Flame Weaver to the hounds of Gregore? Do we sacrifice ourselves for the lives of these men to ease our conscience, and in turn leave the world to falter under the swell of darkness? It is with great pain that I counsel you in this matter, but I shall counsel you nonetheless. You have only begun to see the ravages of war, and these will not be the last good men to die in this battle of light and shadow.” Ilagon’s voice finally began to soften. “There are some things that you may find harder to endure than pain or death. For your calling, however, you must endure them all the same.”

  Kazen’s gaze remained hard as he stared past Ilagon and over the raging battle below. “You are right, of course,” he said through tightened lips. “Many good men will be lost.”

  With a somber nod of his head, Ilagon patted Kazen’s shoulder.

  Suddenly leaping to his feet, Kazen jerked the sword from his back. “But they will not be lost on this day!” Bellowing loudly, he flung himself over the top of the ridge and skidded down the steep slope on his hip.

  “Reckless fool!” Ilagon cursed furiously as he pulled his own sword from over his shoulder.

  Already mounting the summit, Shanks laughed out loud. “Enough to make you proud of the boy, isn’t it!”

  E’enna followed quickly behind, flashing a mischievous grin at Ilagon before launching herself down the hill.

  Kazen gnashed his teeth as he darted across the open basin and into the skirmish. Catching the mammoth beasts by surprise, he slashed at their hindquarters, sending several of them to the ground, wailing in pain. Startled by the brazen attack, the remaining hounds reared on their haunches and withdrew from Kazen, who advanced on them without fear.

  Equally taken aback, the leather-covered men hesitated for a brief moment before laying their swords to the stunned beasts. Falling into line beside Kazen, Ilagon and the others joined in the fight. Weapons hacking and teeth snapping, the dell echoed with the mayhem of battle.

  With their hope rekindled, the men of Halifex fought with new strength. Slowly, they regained the advantage and the hounds began to fall to skilled blades and zinging daggers. Though more than a few men were lost before the battle was won, eventually the beasts were driven back to a full retreat. As the defeated creatures limped away with gashed hides and broken bones, three men with willowy bows followed close behind, releasing their arsenal of broad-headed arrows on the fleeing beasts.

  Pulling his sword from the belly of a fallen beast, Kazen could feel the heat from Ilagon’s gaze upon him. Perhaps for the first time in his life, he did not shrink before his uncle’s commanding presence. He turned and held his chin high, prepared for his scolding. However, before Ilagon could say a word, one of the hooded men rushed to their sides.

  “Friends!” the man said from behind his mask as he gripped Kazen fondly on the shoulder. “You have my thanks. Many more lives would have been lost if not for your bravery. But this is not the place for thanks or for the exchanging of names, for the shadows have eyes, and even a breathless wind can carry a whisper for leagues.” As the mysterious man spoke, the shadows above seemed to churn with a new restlessness. “It is not safe here,” the man continued, casting his gaze up at the breathing shadow. “We have shelter not far from here. You must come with us.”

  “No!” boomed a deep voice from the crowd of hooded men.

  The tallest of the men stepped forward. He towered over his brethren, both in height and girth. Still masked, but his hood fallen back, Kazen could see the suspicion blazing in the man’s eyes.

  “It is forbidden!” he barked. “We cannot allow these strangers into our midst!”

  The smaller of the two, obviously their commander despite his modest frame, patted the large man on the chest. “Stay yourself, cousin. These are desperate times. These men . . .” He paused briefly as his eyes met with E’enna’s. “Your pardon, please,” he said with a tip of his head. “These men and the lady have shown their virtue to be true. The least we can do is offer them sanctuary.”

  “A tin of ale wouldn’t hurt, either!�
� Shanks interrupted with his usual tact.

  Kazen and Ilagon glared back at him impatiently.

  Shanks shrugged his shoulders innocently. “If they have it to spare, of course.”

  His eyes smiling, the hooded leader nodded. “I will see what I can do.” He turned his attention back to Kazen. “It is settled then. You will come with us?”

  Kazen smiled with relief. “We would greatly appreciate any aid you see fit to offer.”

  “We will first tend to our dead, then be on our way.” He sent his men off with a few sharp whistles.

  The men of Halifex hurried back onto the battlefield and sought out their fallen brothers. From each dead man was removed a golden crest from around his neck. Also taken from their belts were ornately blown flasks of brown-tinted glass. Swords, ripped from their master’s holds, were respectfully returned to outstretched hands. The liquid contents of the flasks were emptied over the dead, and the bodies were set ablaze exactly where they had fallen on the field.

  Bowing their heads, the men began to sing a song of mourning in an ancient tongue. Familiar with the language, Kazen was sure these men had no understanding for the words they were singing. Probably passed on for generations, the song had likely lost its meaning long ago. Now, only the melody and the tradition remained. Still, it was a song of honor and valor, and of the inevitable loss that preludes the coming of a brighter day. Despite the slurring of words and mispronunciations, the song was both beautiful and heartbreaking. Kazen discreetly wiped a tear from the bridge of his nose.

  With flames still lapping at the leaden shadow above, the men bowed to the dead one last time before turning their sights to the south. Most curiously, without a spoken word, they arranged themselves in a single file as they began their trek over the rolling hills. Acknowledging a gesture by the leader, Kazen and the others fell in behind them.

  Chapter 19

  Hours passed as they wound their way around the eroding hills and stark gray valleys that had been claimed by the cold shadow. Wandering, seemingly without course or direction, they swayed from south to west and then back to the east again. Kazen guessed that in a land so distorted by ruin and misery, even those who called the land home might find themselves lost before an unfamiliar horizon.

  The Halifex men wore their swords on their hips with bows slung over their shoulders and bundles of black-feathered arrows on their backs. Though modest in size, each blade was elegant by design. There were no guards or pommels to hinder the wielder’s nimble strikes, only a smooth wooden hilt, curved to the bend of its master’s hand. The single-edged blades, though keen at a glance, showed faint evidence of patchwork and reforging. Many of these weapons had likely been drawn in battle for more than a single age.

  The men themselves were an impressive sight, each one of them lean and limber, save for the tall brute who had spoken harshly with his commander. But even he, along with the others, was clearly well disciplined, walking with feathered steps, as if on slippered feet. They spaced themselves precisely apart, like ducks in a row, falling readily into each other’s footsteps. Even a seasoned tracker might well overlook their trail, mistaking it for a lone, misguided traveler lost in the wild. Of course, all of their vigilant measures to conceal their course were rapidly being undone by the band of tagalongs, whose shuffling feet blazed a clear enough trail for most any fool to follow.

  With hoods drawn low and shoulders slack, one might think them a shifty lot at first glance. They skulked along, like thieves in the night, taking great care of their surroundings. Their eyes, forever scanning and surveying, were deep pools of mystery and cunning, and each pair held a devious glimmer, which revealed the hidden delight they took in this mortal game of cat-and-mouse.

  The pale light of day had begun to diminish under a muddy dusk as they weaved their way down into a deep vale. Hills of sallow land mottled by stretches of burnt, tufted grass rose to either side. Lining the hilltops were brittle skeletons of trees, their naked trunks, stripped of bark, were bleached a ghostly white.

  Stepping into the valley, Kazen was suddenly overcome with a feeling of unease. His heart quickened and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. An icy chill fell over him as he anxiously scanned the hills for any hint of danger. Snatching his uncle by the arm, he pulled him in close, whispering cautiously. “I fear we are being watched.”

  Ilagon’s eyes darted over the hills. “I see no sign. Is there something in the shadows above?”

  “Something closer,” Kazen replied. “I feel many suspicious eyes upon us.”

  “A poor place for anyone to plan an ambush.” Ilagon shook his head. “There is no cover in these barren hills.”

  “Still,” Kazen answered nervously. “I feel as if a sword lay against my throat.”

  “Your have keen senses, friend.” The leader of the hooded men smiled. “For, indeed, there are watchful eyes upon you.”

  Kazen and his company froze, their eyes darting across the steep hills.

  “Fear not,” the man reassured them. “You are among friends here. It is but the Watchers of Halifex who hold you in their sights. They are disciplined men, and they wait for my signal.”

  “Then I beg you to signal them fittingly and without delay,” Shanks replied anxiously. “It only takes one disciplined man with a shaky hand to let slip a single arrow, which might well prompt the others to empty their quivers down upon our friendly heads.”

  “I will do so, if it eases your heart,” agreed the hooded captain, and he whistled a flutter of trills and warbles, which fell flatly against the wasted hills.

  The company spun around, expecting to see a band of archers peek their heads up from beyond the hilltops. Anxious moments passed with not so much as a whisper from a fleeting breeze.

  “It may be that my eyes fail me,” Shanks finally said, “or it may be that we have wandered into a ravine only similar to the one you seek. But unless you captain a company of ghosts, I can tell you there are no men in these hills.”

  A glint of satisfaction gleamed in the commander’s eye. “Would it surprise you to learn that there are creatures other than dragons able to vanish before your eyes?”

  The captain whistled once again, and a great rustling stirred from all around. Clouds of dust and soil wafted into the air as the steep banks erupted with a sudden blur of movement. Pockets of hillside flung open as if on a hinge or curtain. To either side, dozens of hooded bowmen emerged from deep caverns dug into the valley walls. Tossed to their sides was their clever camouflage, sheets of burlap carefully woven with tufts of wilted grass, knotted twigs, and well-rooted sod. When properly laid out, these covers blended flawlessly with the hillside, completely concealing the watchmen in their dens.

  Astounded by this amazing ingenuity, Kazen applauded gleefully. “Brilliant! Never have I seen such cleverness! I swear, had my nose been pressed to any of these burrows I would not have recognized it for anything other than dirt and hill.”

  “I am glad you approve,” the commander said, beaming diffidently over Kazen’s appreciation of his labors. “But we must not linger in the open.” Tossing aside yet another skillfully disguised mantle, he motioned for Kazen and his company to follow him down a dark passageway cut into the hillside. But before entering the tunnel, he gave orders for two of his men to go back and cover up any tracks left behind by the newcomers.

  Crouching down almost to his knees, Kazen felt his way along through the unlit tunnel. Cut stone and wooden supports soon replaced walls of solidly packed dirt as they made their way noticeably downward. Darkness became blackness as the tunnel entrance was covered up again behind them. Ahead, the captain gave out a few short whistles, which were answered by the rattle of chains and grating of metal bolts. A wooden door was flung open, and light from many torches flooded the cramped tunnel.

  They stepped out into a large chamber, tall enough for the largest of men to stand erect, and as vast as a king’s dining hall. The walls were braced with brick and mud, and heavy woo
den beams lined the ceiling. Not conformed to any conventional shape, the walls and floor of the room dipped and sloped with the natural yield of rock and stone. The great cavern branched off into many smaller grottos and dimly lit passages, of which no guess could be made as to their purpose or end.

  Torches and lamps blazed brightly on every wall, bathing the chamber in shimmering hues of orange and yellow. Like dancing sunlight on a rippling pond, the floor of the cavern was alive with tall shadows that rose and fell under the flickering flames. The air was cold, and damp, and old, and the smell of roots and clay was thick. Here, the dark shadows did not dwell, and the scent of living soil was sweet.

  Crates and barrels were stacked high against the walls. Bundles of arrows were neatly stacked in one corner, while in another were piles of swords and daggers that seemed to be in need of repair. Several large chests had been fashioned together in the center of the room to form a table on which were strewn maps and various stacks of parchment. Countless numbers of shields from many different kingdoms and of every color and design covered the walls.

  At least thirty men filled the main chamber alone, and many more voices filtered in from the adjoining corridors. Busily hurrying about, most of the men were too engrossed in their own duties to even notice Kazen and his company. A few, however, stopped to stare suspiciously at the newcomers.

  “Come, friends,” the leader said, “I can see you have been long without food or water. We will talk over supper, if it pleases you.”

  He escorted them through the main hall and into a small den. Here there was a round, wooden table with stacked boxes for sitting on. The room was big enough for the table and the present company and little else more. Calling into the next chamber, the man summoned another man to fetch them food and drink.

  Finally pulling the hood and mask from his face, the man sat on a crate and bid his guests do the same. Kazen was surprised at how young the man was, which was not more than a few years his senior. Though his face seemed unnaturally pale, his features were fair. Dark, russet-colored eyes were set deeply beneath a thoughtful brow. Hair of similar shade sat tousled atop his head, and a light shadow of growth just touched his prominent chin. Slender, but not slight, there was a certain grace about him that complemented the authority he carried so naturally.