It was Niya who spoke up. “Uzo is a farm boy from Feldemar, the very kingdom we travel now. You are from the north, are you not?” Uzo glared at her and gave a slow nod. Niya smiled at the rest of them. “He is practically an outlander. Elves rarely trouble that part of the world, and as a result, many of the elders have begun to forget.”
But Uzo rolled his eyes. “They have forgotten nothing. They only stopped believing campfire stories a long time ago. Do you ever notice how every time a story is told about them, it is always a tale of someone far away? And always, too, it happened a long time ago. Who has seen an Elf in living memory?”
He looked around the camp, but no one spoke up. Loren felt a curious burning in her breast, a heat that crawled its way up the back of her neck. She realized suddenly that her hands were clenched to fists. Chet put a hand on her arm in warning, but she ignored it.
“I have,” she said.
That sent the whole camp into silence. Gem and Annis looked at each other nervously, while Chet ducked his gaze. She almost regretted it, for it sounded like a boast in retrospect, and she had not meant that. The Mystics all stared at her in wonder—even Uzo, who clearly had not expected to be challenged. But he recovered quickly, shaking his head.
“What do you mean?” he said. “You cannot mean that you have seen them. You heard from someone else—”
“I saw them,” said Loren. “With my own eyes. As close as you and I are now. Closer, in fact.”
His nostrils flared in anger. “Then tell the tale of it. Explain yourself, if you are so wise in the way of such things.”
“I do not know that I need to follow your orders, Uzo,” she said.
Uzo’s anger became a smirk. “I thought not. By all the tales that are told of Elves, if you had seen them, you would be dead.”
But Weath shook her head. “That is not true. There are all sorts of tales about Elves, and the only thing they agree upon is that you never can tell what they will do. Sometimes they will kill every human they see. Sometimes they will walk straight into the middle of a campsite—or even a city, if the older tales can be believed—and kill one person. Just one. A king, or a soldier, or even a babe. Once they decide you must die, you die. Other times they leave you be. That is the great terror of the Elves: you never know what they might do, but if they decide to kill you, there is no escaping their wrath.”
She turned to Loren then. “This explains much,” she said. “I knew there was something odd about you from the moment I laid eyes upon you, on that ship in Brekkur. It is something in your eyes. I have never seen its like before, but I have heard it is the sign of those who are Elf-touched.”
Loren frowned. “Others have said much the same thing. The Lord Prince even remarked upon it. I thought it was only their color—that seems to catch most people’s attention well enough.”
Weath shook her head quickly. “It is not only that. I have heard that wizards can see it more easily than most, but it is clear to all, if you know what to look for. Look at her, Uzo. You can see it, can you not?”
Uzo glared at Loren for a moment, and Loren saw the recognition dawn upon him. But he turned sullenly away. “I see only a pair of green eyes,” he muttered.
But Weath looked at Loren and gave her a little smile. Loren tried to return it, but she felt suddenly out of place. Everyone around the campfire returned to their meal, studiously avoiding looking at each other. But Loren felt one pair of eyes upon her, and at last she glanced up. Niya was looking at her, and the Mystic’s face was a curious mix of trepidation and wonder.
twenty-one
LOREN ROSE WITH THE DAWN the next morning and left the camp to make water. When she had finished, she straightened and drew her pants up again. Just as she finished tying the drawstring, Niya appeared from nowhere, stepping out from behind a tree and making Loren jump.
“Nightblade.”
“Sky above!” cried Loren. “What were you doing there? Were you watching me?”
Niya only rolled her eyes. “We are on a campaign, at least of a sort,” she said. “There is little room for modesty in a war path, nor for privacy. Do you think the rest of us cannot your hear the grunts of you and your lover when the moons are high?”
Loren could feel herself turning a bright shade of pink. “I … I thought the sounds of the storm—”
But Niya cut her off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Enough. I only came to ask you if it is true, what you said last night about the Elves.”
“I am no liar.”
They studied each other for a long moment, Niya searching for something in her eyes. At last she gave a small nod. “Very well. I meant no offense. It is only that it is a most unusual tale. But then, much about you seems unusual, and mayhap this explains why. When did you see them?”
Loren shrugged, a little put off by the strangeness of the question. “Some time before I came to the Seat, when I traveled east across Dorsea.”
Niya’s shoulders slumped, as though she had hoped for a different answer. “I see. It was after the Greatrocks, then? When Jordel fell?”
“You knew Jordel?” Loren cocked her head. She would have thought Niya would have mentioned it before.
But the Mystic quickly shook her head. “No. I have only heard stories. Who does not know the exploits of the Nightblade, after all?” Her look of burning curiosity faded, to be replaced by a small, sarcastic smirk. “In particular, they speak of the hatred between you and the merchant Damaris. Is that why you were so eager to pursue her to Dahab?”
“I do not hate Damaris. I only wish to see her brought before the King’s law.”
“Oh, but she is worthy of hate, is she not?” said Niya, her grin taking on a feral quality. “Many in the Mystics have tales of the family Yerrin, of their cruel dealings and the many corpses that may be laid at their feet. Yet we only go to capture Damaris now. Would it not be easier to kill her? Does she not deserve it?”
A chill went through Loren. “That is not my duty. No doubt the King’s law will deliver whatever sentence is just.”
Niya snorted. “Mayhap. Yet if the end result will be her death, why should we not do it ourselves?” She studied Loren’s face for a moment, but found no agreement there, and so she sighed and looked away. “Oh, do not look at me so. I am half jesting, after all. It would be cleaner, certainly. And though you may wish to believe differently, the Mystics are not above assassination to achieve their ends. But if Kal wished Damaris dead, he would no doubt simply employ a Drayden. Then the whole affair would be taken care of with little fuss.”
The name of Drayden made Loren pause and study the Mystic more closely. “What do you mean?”
“Have you never heard of them?” said Niya, raising an eyebrow. “That is odd. They are well-known throughout all the nine lands.”
“I have heard of them, certainly. But I do not understand … why would Kal employ one of them? Theirs is a dark name.”
“So is the family Yerrin’s, and yet we Mystics have many dealings with them,” said Niya. Her smile turned more feral. “Do you know nothing of the Drayden killers?”
Loren shook her head.
Niya shrugged. “They are assassins without peer. They work in the shadows, and they never fail to kill their mark. Most often, they work for the benefit of the family Drayden itself. But sometimes they can be hired, though it takes a hefty amount of gold.”
“But surely Kal …” Loren let her words trail off. She had been about to ask if Kal would truly employ assassins to achieve his ends, but she thought she already knew the answer. Mayhap he would not do so lightly, but if he thought it were the only way to achieve an end, she did not believe he would hesitate.
She realized that Niya was studying her face as these thoughts raced through her mind. “Poor little Nightblade,” the Mystic said softly. “You are surrounded by dark deeds, and darker times.”
“Yet not all is darkness,” said Loren, lifting her chin. “Even among the family Drayden. I knew one of them—Qarad
, your former Lord Chancellor. He proved his loyalty when he fell, battling the Shades within the High King’s palace.”
Niya turned to the tree beside her and picked at it with her fingernail. “Aye. I never met him myself. I had always heard he was a terror to the soldiers who served him, but he knew his duty.”
They let a long silence stretch between them, a respectful moment for the dead. Then Loren cocked her head, remembering the night before. “What did Uzo mean last night, when he mentioned the old guard?”
“Nothing,” said Niya at once. “He is young, and newer to the Mystics than some. Such qualities rarely breed temperance.”
“I have never had much temperance myself,” said Loren. “But I will have an answer. What did he mean?”
“You will have an answer, will you?” A spark of mischief shone in Niya’s eye as she smirked. But then she sighed, and her expression grew more somber. “Kal is of the old guard, and he assembles Mystics to his side who share in his beliefs. For hundreds of years, the Mystics have had one purpose: to preserve the King’s law, and through it, the nine kingdoms.”
“Of course,” said Loren. “That is their purpose, is it not?”
“It is,” said Niya, meeting her gaze. “It is only that some Mystics have grown weary of that being our sole pursuit. Our order holds much power now over the nine lands—not only because of our soldiers and the great number of wizards within our ranks, but because of our many connections to the wealthiest and most powerful families across the nine kingdoms. Only in the Order of Mystics will you find Yerrins and Draydens working side by side, as well as many members of the nobility. In our oaths, we forsake all ties to the families whence we came. But in truth, blood is not so easy to cast aside. If all the Mystics with powerful connections were to act in concert, united by some common purpose, we would be powerful indeed. Have you never heard the Order called the Tenth Kingdom?”
“I have not,” said Loren.
Her mind went racing back to the village of Strapa, where Mystics had pursued her and Jordel as they searched for Xain. Derrick, the leader of their pursuers, also thought of the Mystics as being of two kinds, and he had even slain one of his own soldiers. This one was a poison within our ranks, he had said. But Jordel had been furious with him, for he believed that all were equal who wore the red cloak.
“But still I do not understand,” said Loren, shaking her head. “You say that they are not happy with their duty, their sacred mission. But what else is there?”
“Nothing,” said Niya. “There is nothing else.”
“Do not be coy with me,” said Loren. “What do they wish to do? You say they have influence, and could wield it. To what end?”
“There is no end,” said Niya. “They are aimless. Unhappy with their state of affairs, but with no plan to improve upon it. And do not worry, Nightblade: you will never find me being coy with you.”
That made Loren’s cheeks burn—but, too, she could sense that Niya still withheld something. It made her suddenly nervous to be traveling in this grim company of red-cloaked warriors. She had been swimming along with the current for some time now, and had only just become aware of a dangerous undercurrent she could neither see nor predict.
Niya must have seen her trepidation, for she gave a sad smile and stepped forwards. With two fingers she reached up and brushed a lock of hair behind Loren’s ear. “These are far too many worries for a girl so young. Free your mind of these troubles, Nightblade. They are for the red cloaks, not the black.”
Loren stared into her eyes for a moment. Then she pushed past the Mystic, making for the camp.
twenty-two
TWO DAYS LATER, THEY AWOKE to a grey morning with rain lighter than they had seen in days.
“Thank the sky,” said Shiun, looking up. “If this holds, we should reach Dahab before the end of the day.”
“Then let us press on as quickly as we may,” said Annis, rubbing at her arms through the sleeves of her shirt. “And when we have concluded our business in the city, let us remain there a while before we return. I mean never to spend another night in the wilderness battered by storms such as these, if I can help it.”
After a meager breakfast, they set off—and whether it was the prospect of finally reaching the end of their long journey, or because of the improved weather, their mood was now light and almost cheerful. There were snatches of conversation as they followed the winding paths through bogs and marshes, and once, Gem offered to sing Uzo a song, though Niya quickly told him to be silent.
“We have seen no sign that we are being watched, but still we should be cautious,” she said. “And by no means should we go singing through the woods and call foes down upon our heads.”
But shortly after midday, they heard swift hoofbeats ahead of them. Niya and Loren shared a glance—they had sent Shiun ahead to scout the way, but if she was riding back, she was coming quickly. Niya waved them all off the road, and they retreated into the trees.
“Swords,” muttered Niya. She and the other Mystics all drew. After a moment, Gem fumbled his own blade from its scabbard.
But it was only Shiun after all, and as soon as she reached the spot on the road where they were hiding, she pulled to a stop and waved to them. Loren walked Midnight out into the open again.
“If you meant to hide from me, you did a poor job,” said Shiun. “The marks of your passing are like signal fires.”
“Enough of that,” said Niya. “What is wrong?”
“There are guards,” said Shiun. “Yerrin guards, up ahead.”
Loren frowned. “Upon the main road?”
“No,” said Shiun. “The very road we travel—the back path.”
That cast a grim mood over all of them. They had taken these roads specifically to avoid detection, believing Yerrin would only have guards posted on the main routes. It seemed they had wasted some days of travel, and for little purpose.
“Why would they have guards posted, unless they knew we were coming this way?” said Niya.
“There could be any number of reasons,” said Loren. “It could be a precaution, or they could be on the lookout for another foe entirely.”
“Do you not think Hewal has arrived ahead of us?” said Gem. “If he has warned them that we are coming …”
Loren and Chet shared a look. Only Chet knew what Loren had told Kal, that Hewal had mentioned Dahab when they fought each other. The Chancellor had sent them to the city based upon that lie, while the other Mystics in the party believed that there was some other information, gained from other spies, pointing them this way. But she could not explain that to them. “No doubt he would have told them that he suspected we would come after him, but he could not have known we would take this route,” said Loren. “And regardless, we cannot turn back. If anything, this could be a sign that Damaris is in Dahab for certain. We must not let her slip away.”
“There might be a way past the guards,” said Shiun. “The path you ride on now leads to a log bridge. That is where the Yerrin guards have placed themselves, to catch anyone who comes this way. But the river can be crossed another way, bypassing the guards—with Weath’s help.”
Loren frowned, but Weath only nodded. “Say on.”
“The river runs through a small divide in the land, a few paces below the bridge. If we approach from that direction, there is a place close by where the water grows shallow and somewhat calm, despite the flooding from the rain. There, Weath could turn the water to stone, giving us a bridge to cross over. If we are silent, we should avoid the guards’ attention.”
“Why not cross the river somewhere else?” said Annis. “Do it far from the bridge, so that there is no danger of the guards seeing us.” She looked more nervous than the rest of them—and then Loren realized that, if they were spotted, word would surely fly to Damaris that her daughter had been spotted near the city of Dahab. If that happened, Loren doubted that all the coin and strength of arms in the world could keep Damaris from hunting them all down.
Loren looked to Weath. The alchemist nodded. “Shiun and I have known each other a long while. I trust her judgement in this.”
“Very well,” said Loren. “Lead the way, Shiun.” But the Mystic hesitated, looking at Niya. When Loren followed her gaze, she saw that Niya was studying her own hands where they gripped the reins. Uzo, too, looked thoughtful, his lips pursed. He was the first to give voice to whatever doubt held them.
“Why do we not simply take the bridge? We could dispatch the guards and be on our way in no time.”
Niya looked up to meet Loren’s shocked gaze. “It would be faster.”
“No,” said Loren. “There is no need for fighting, if subterfuge will serve.”
“Yet speed is imperative to our mission,” said Niya. “And we have wasted days already.”
“You speak of saving less than an hour’s time,” said Loren.
Niya turned to Shiun. “If we are discovered while we try the more difficult crossing, what will be our position?”
Shiun’s expression remained carefully neutral. “It will be difficult. They will have the high ground, and we would have to climb the riverbank to engage them.”
“There. You see?” said Niya. “If anything should go wrong, we will all be at far greater risk.”
Loren felt as though the argument were slipping away from her. “If we kill their guards, our advantage will be lost. Speed is important, yes, but so is secrecy. Do you wish to warn all of the family Yerrin that we approach Dahab?”
Weremage: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 5) Page 14