Weremage: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 5)

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Weremage: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 5) Page 18

by Garrett Robinson


  That forced a laugh from Loren. “Then I hope you have an idea.”

  “Mayhap we can follow our quarry,” said Niya, tossing her head towards the window. “Only we cannot fly, and shall have to climb down.”

  Loren went to the window beside her, and leaned out to look down. “It is a long way.”

  “Not so long as the stairwell, if we must fight our way down. And I do not think you would be much use when it came to swords.”

  “You are correct,” said Loren. “Very well. These outfits will not help us.” Quickly they shed their guard uniforms, and Loren donned her black cloak once more. From the guard’s cloak she cut a strip of cloth, and tied it around the cut on her hand. She lifted the window to climb out.

  “A moment,” said Niya, seizing her cloak and drawing her back. “You have proven to be something of a lure that summons luck. You found Hewal when we did not even seek him. We shall need more of that luck if we are to escape. I think you should give me another kiss.”

  For a moment Loren could not believe what she had heard. “I told you before that this was not the time for such idiocy. It is even less so now.”

  Niya only shrugged, and widened her eyes in mock fear. With two hands clasped to her heart, she simpered, “Without your luck, I fear even to attempt the climb.”

  Loren wanted to strike her, but in her mind’s eye she could almost see the guards who even now must surely be rushing up the tower towards them. She darted forwards and gave Niya a brief kiss, and then slapped her shoulder, hard. “For your stupidity.”

  “A small price to pay,” said Niya, and climbed out the window.

  twenty-seven

  THE WAY WAS SLOW, AND Loren felt horribly exposed on the outside of the building. Halfway down, she had the belated thought that Hewal could have spotted them, if he had kept flying around the manor in bird form. But he must have flown to the ground and warned the guard, hoping to catch them as they came down the stairwell. Nor did any guards thrust their head out of the window and spy them. When they came to the room and saw Gretchen’s corpse, they must not have thought that anyone would be mad enough to climb down the outside.

  As luck had it, they came down not far from where they had left Gem, and the boy only had to jump across two rooftops to wait for them when at last they reached the bottom. But by then, the whole compound rang with shouts of alarm, and there came from every direction the sound of running feet. Gem stared at the both in wide-eyed wonder.

  “By the sky above, what did the two of you do in there? You have mustered an army.”

  “Time enough for that later,” said Loren. “Now it is time for running.”

  Run they did, with Gem leading the way across the rooftops once more. This time he did not suggest they climb the higher building again, but took them in a dead spring around it—and then he kept cutting right, running straight for the wall.

  “Gem, this way is exposed,” said Loren.

  “Every way is exposed now. You have kicked the anthill.”

  He was right. Guards ran all along the wall, summoned in one direction or another as someone thought they saw the intruders, and gave a shout. The quickest way was safest, not the route by which they had come.

  The wall was close now. There were two guards just ahead. Just before the three of them reached the last rooftop, the guards spotted them. Loren slowed in her run.

  “No time,” said Niya, and made the leap. One of the guards raised his sword, but she caught his wrist, wrenching him to the side and clearing a space for Loren and Gem to land beside her. With her other hand she struck the guard hard in the throat, and as he choked for breath, she pushed him back over the wall. He fell to the street beyond with a scream, which ended abruptly as he struck the cobblestones. The other guard came for Loren, but she sidestepped the woman’s wild swing, shoving Gem to the side. The two of them were pressed close now, and with no time to think, Loren lunged forwards and slammed the crown of her head into the guard’s nose. She felt it snap with a wet crunch, and the guard fell upon her back, stunned.

  “Over!” cried Loren, and she practically flung Gem off the ramparts. But she caught his hands and stooped over the edge, lowering him as far as she could before she let go. He landed well and rolled away, and Loren hopped over after him. An arrow sailed through the air above her, and she flinched, loosing her grip before she had meant to. She almost landed straight on her ankles, and only just managed to roll with the impact, but she still struck her tailbone hard, and cried out with the pain of it as she regained her feet. A moment later, Niya came crashing down beside her, turning over and over as she rolled across the street.

  “Get up,” said Gem, pulling on her arm. “They are almost upon us.” He seized Loren’s arm and dragged her to her feet, then tried to flee with her. But Loren went to Niya and hauled her up. The Mystic’s ankle had twisted, and she limped when she tried to walk. Loren threw an arm around her and half-dragged her away from the wall, trying to ignore the body of the guard who had been pitched over the wall. Mayhap he was still alive, but Loren thought she would feel better if she did not know for certain.

  They ducked into the first alley they saw, and Gem led them around two different turns before they came upon a well-populated street.

  “Which way to the others?” said Loren.

  “This way,” said Gem. “At least, I think so.”

  “You do not remember?” growled Niya.

  He frowned at her. “Do you? Then follow me.” And off he ran. Loren pulled Niya after him, trying to ignore the woman’s grumbling.

  Loren was aware of a few curious glances as they went, and she felt far too exposed here in the open. But no one seemed to connect them to the commotion that still raged a few streets away. Gem was right in his guess after all, and soon they reached the tavern. Chet and Uzo were waiting outside, and Chet’s face was nearly Elf-white. But it flushed with color again when he saw Loren, and he ran forward to help with Niya.

  “What happened?” he said in a low voice. “Half of the city seems to be in an uproar.”

  “Why does everyone want an explanation while danger still looms?” said Loren. “Get the others out of there. We should ride as far from this place as we can. Let us find an inn on the other side of the city.”

  They all quickly made ready to leave, and Loren went to help Niya up on her horse. “I am not so badly hurt as all that,” said Niya, scowling at her. “It was only a little turn.”

  “Do not act so surly when I am only trying to help you,” said Loren. “It would seem I am not so lucky as you thought.”

  “Yet I am alive. And I have the memory of you kissing me freely, by your own choice.”

  Loren’s eyes went wide, and she looked over her shoulder. But Chet was a few paces away, tending to his saddle, and had not heard. She leaned in closer. “I would rather you did not speak of it.”

  Niya grinned at her. “Is that an order, Nightblade?”

  “It is. You can mount your horse on your own.”

  They rode off, south and away from the Yerrin manors. They no longer earned a second glance from passers by, now that Niya was mounted and not limping. But still Loren felt as though eyes were upon her, and she drew up her hood to hide her face. When they had almost reached the city’s southern wall, they found an inn with a sizable stable, and there they pulled to a halt.

  “See to the horses and meet us within,” Niya told Shiun and Jormund. Then she turned to Loren. “I could use a drink, and you deserve one.”

  Though she was irritated with the Mystic still, Loren could not deny that a cup of wine sounded finer than anything else she could imagine. In the common room they ordered food and drink, and had it brought to a table near the back, placed in its own booth with walls that blocked it from view of the front door.

  The moment they found their seats, Weath leaned forwards. “Did they recognize you?” she said. “Will they follow you, or trace this back somehow?”

  “Yes,” said Loren. “Hewal
was there. He saw me plainly, and must have guessed who Niya was under her helmet.”

  Uzo smirked. “I am sure you have heard this before, but your green eyes leave you ill-suited to life as a spy.”

  “I did not see you volunteering for the mission,” said Chet angrily.

  “He would have recognized any of us,” snapped Niya at the same time. She and Chet glared at each other for a long moment.

  “Very well,” said Weath. “What did you learn?”

  Loren looked around, conscious that there could be ears listening in any corner. “Our target is not in the city. She resides in a fortress—a place called Yewamba, far to the west of here.”

  “Then we have what we came for,” said Weath. “We should make ready to leave. I suggest we spend one night here, for we are all weary from the road, and the three of you must rest from your exertion. But we should leave before first light. Uzo and Jormund can buy us supplies for the journey back to Ammon.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Chet. “Even on this side of the city, I cannot shake the feeling that we could be found at any moment.”

  But Loren remained silent, and then she realized that Niya, too, had yet to answer. They glanced at each other across the table. From his seat beside Loren, Gem looked back and forth between the two of them with wide eyes.

  “Oh, darkness take us,” muttered the boy.

  “We are going to Yewamba,” said Niya.

  Chet gawked at her. “We certainly are not. We are going back to Ammon, to bring our news to Kal.”

  “Kal will receive his news,” said Loren quietly. “We will send someone with a letter. Jormund, I think.”

  For a moment it seemed Chet thought she was joking, for he almost smiled. But when she did not return it, he shook his head slowly. “You cannot be serious. Loren, you are not this foolish.”

  “She is far from foolish,” said Niya. “She is wiser than you are, at any rate. We have waited for weeks—months, in fact—for an opportunity to bring our enemies to heel. Now we have such a chance. But it will not last long, for Hewal will surely send word of what has happened here tonight, and then our target will hide herself in another dark hole. I will not waste it, and neither will the Nightblade.”

  Chet and Weath both began to speak, but Loren cut them off with a raised hand. “Niya is correct. We left Ammon to accomplish a purpose.”

  “That purpose was information,” said Chet.

  “Information leading to a capture,” said Loren. “But if we do not act on what we know, that will never happen. If we had learned that the one we seek was in some outland kingdom, some place far to the south like Hedgemond, that would be one thing. But this fortress, wherever it is, lies far to the west. If we ride the long distance back to Ammon only to tell Kal what we have learned, and then devise a plan, and then set out after her, weeks will have passed, even if winter ends tomorrow and not a single storm troubles us the whole while.”

  “So you would rather ride west without any plan at all,” said Chet. “You understand how I see little wisdom in such a course.”

  “We will devise our plan upon the road,” said Niya. “That is how commanders in the field are supposed to act.”

  Chet could sense that he was losing, and his frustration grew more plain with every word. “But you do not even know where you are going,” he said, spreading his hands into the empty air. “This fortress you speak of could be anywhere.”

  Loren looked to Annis. The girl had remained silent through the whole argument, staring into her own lap. “Annis.”

  The girl jumped. “What is it?”

  “You know where it is.”

  “I …” Annis’ eyes went wide, and she looked around at them. “I do not know precisely where it is. Yet there is—that is, when I was with Kal, and we studied the maps and the records, there was a place … it was to the west of here, and it was like, like a sort of hole, for coin. No roads passed through the place. There were no cities, only mountains. Yet all around it, numbers disappeared from ledgers without explanation. Garrisons marched from fortresses to reinforce some other stronghold, but that place was never named. Food and other supplies, all went missing. And I have heard the name of Yewamba before. It was spoken in the halls of my family, a place we have called home in the past, a long-abandoned fortress of great power.”

  At the words long-abandoned fortress, Loren felt her hackles rise. She saw the image from her dream again, Damaris standing in a vast cavern, bathed in a single pool of light. Quickly she pushed the image away.

  Chet was at a loss. But he recovered, planting a hand on the table and shaking his head. “No. This is madness, all of it. And Loren, you gave your word. You made a vow to Kal. Will you break it?”

  “I vowed that I would take no action against our target in Dahab,” said Loren. “And I will obey that vow to the letter.”

  “You know that is not what he meant,” said Chet.

  “I must agree with Chet,” said Weath. “Riding out on our own seems foolhardy.”

  “It is,” said Loren. “And I will not ask you to come with me. I will not ask you to obey my orders against the wishes of the Chancellor who commands you. Neither, Chet, would I ask you to follow me into darkness and danger, any more than I asked you back in Northwood. But I am going to Yewamba. Always I have done what I thought was best. Sometimes that brought great sorrow, and not just for myself. But it is also the only reason we know as much as we know, the reason the High King is prepared to fight this war in the first place. Before we left the Seat, she told me that the nine kingdoms were more important than any of us. I still believe that. And this is what I must do to preserve them—and to mete out justice for a friend, who fell before his time. Were Jordel here, I think he would do the same.”

  That cast most of them into silence. But Chet glared into his lap and shook his head. “You speak of justice, but I hear revenge behind your words.”

  “Then go to Ammon,” said Loren. “Indeed, I would feel better if you did. There is no doubt that I ride upon the more dangerous path. Turn your own road from mine, and take the children with you.”

  “Not likely,” said Gem. “I go where you go, as I have always done. Well, since we met.”

  “How noble,” sneered Niya.

  “I will not turn away either,” said Annis quietly. “I cannot say with honesty that this is a wise course. But I think … I think it is the right one, and I must follow it, for the same reason I came with you this far already. Though I do not know what help I will be.”

  “You have been tremendous help already,” said Loren. “We would not even know where we were going, were it not for you. Do you see? Wit above might.”

  Annis smiled at her. And beside the girl, Chet shook his head and sighed, even as his scowl deepened.

  “Of course I will not abandon you now, Loren,” he whispered. “Nor ever, not while I draw breath. I only hope I do not regret this—not for my own sake, but for yours.”

  Weath looked as though she wished to say a great deal more. But she gave Niya a pleading look, and the captain’s expression remained unmoved.

  “Very well,” said Weath, lower her gaze in deferment. “I will send the others out for supplies. We shall ride by first light.”

  twenty-eight

  THEY SLIPPED THROUGH THE CITY’S gate in the grey just before dawn. The gate guards seemed somewhat more attentive than they had before after the uproar at the Yerrin manors, but Loren traded her black cloak for a plain brown one, and they rode out in twos and threes, the way they had entered the city, and no one marked their passing. But before they set out, then sent Jormund in the opposite direction. Loren gave him his instructions and bid him farewell at the door of the inn.

  “This holds all of the information we were able to gather,” she said, placing her scroll in his hands. Gem had written it for her, though she had told him what to say. “It also tells him that we ride west for Yewamba. He will no doubt be angry. You must make it clear to him that it was m
y decision, and that you had nothing to do with it.”

  Jormund gave her a wry smile. “Do you think I would distance myself from you so? I will tell him it was my counsel that sent you west, and that I begged to come with you.”

  Loren smiled at that. “I wish that you could. We shall miss your sword.”

  “I hope you do not need it. Farewell, Nightblade.”

  “Farewell.”

  He bade good-bye to the rest of the party, and then mounted to ride away. Loren watched until he was out of sight in the city streets, and then set out for the city’s southern gate with the rest of the party.

  From the first day they left Dahab behind them, they noticed a change. Winter’s storms no longer battered them as they had before, and while the air was still frigid, it was free from rain or snow. The roads west of Dahab were nowhere near so ill-kept as the ones to the east, and they used the main road besides, so that their journey was swift and almost pleasant. The month of Martis was nearly past, and winter was just beginning to give way to spring.

  When they made camp on the first day, Loren waited until Chet had gone out of sight to fetch firewood, and then went to Niya. “You did something in the manor that I meant to ask you about.”

  Niya smirked at her. “I did, and I will do more, if you wish it.”

  Loren’s cheeks flamed. “Not that. I meant the knife. You threw it at Hewal both times we faced him, in fact. You are very good with it.”

  “I told you already that deception and knives were my two great loves,” said Niya. “What is it you wished to ask me?”

  “Can you teach me? To throw a knife like that, I mean.”

  The Mystic drew back, surprised. “I thought you were against killing.”

  “I am. But a knife may be used for more than violence, even when thrown. Or has it escaped your notice that you yourself have not killed with it, though you threw it twice?”

  That forced a barking laugh, but then Niya eyed her with a curious expression. “It was not for lack of intent, I assure you. But very well. I can teach you to throw, if you wish to learn a fancy trick to entertain your friends. Only you must promise me something.”

 

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