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

by Garrett Robinson

  They were a morose party that night, and as they sat eating a meager meal around the fire, they rarely looked at each other. Niya spit a bit of gristle into the flames, and the sound was so loud that Annis jumped.

  “We might think of moving the camp,” said Niya.

  “But which way?” said Loren. “If we move north, we may be moving farther away from Yewamba—but the same is true if we move south.”

  “We know it is not here,” said Uzo. “I say we flip the coin.”

  “It is fourteen days since we left Dahab,” said Loren. “Surely word has reached Yewamba by now. We are giving Damaris too much time to prepare.”

  “And what do you suggest, Nightblade?” said Niya, raising her hands in exasperation. “If you know of a wiser course, then tell us, and we will follow it.”

  Loren frowned and looked into the fire. Of course she had no better idea, and they all knew it. But if they took the camp in the wrong direction, their whole mission here might end in disaster.

  After a moment’s silence, Weath spoke up, quietly, her voice soothing. “Mayhap this is a matter best left to daylight. During the night, all roads may look dark, and choosing between them is more difficult.”

  “That seems wise,” said Gem brightly, smiling at the rest of them. The smile was not returned.

  Gregor stood before her.

  As before, the man was giant-sized, larger even than he was in life. His hands looked as though he could crush her to a pulp between his fingers, the massive stumps of his legs like oak trunks. He was so large that the trees around him seemed dwarfish, though the tops of them still stretched over his head. Now his face was not wasted, as it had been before. His cheeks were full, and his eyes not sunken, but smoldered with a dark light, as though he were a wizard who had eaten magestones.

  “I told her to kill you,” he said. His voice was not thunder now, but the roar of the ocean, the inexorable tide that tore even might mountains down in time.

  Loren wanted to turn and flee, but her feet were rooted in place. She looked around her in a panic. It was Feldemar, the very land she had been searching for the past two days. Gregor stood between two peaks, peaks that stretched impossibly far above them both, yet seemed small and insignificant next to the giant.

  Then, Loren saw that they were not quite alone. Behind Gregor, making its way down a little path between the peaks, was a caravan. It was small, only three wagons—but she recognized them as the wagons from Damaris’ caravan, the one she had led when Loren first met her.

  But her attention was drawn back to Gregor as the man reached into his cloak. He pulled something out, holding it up before her—and then Loren saw that it was not one thing, but three. Three small, black stones that shone in the moonslight. Magestones.

  Gregor flung the stones at her, and she flinched. But in midair they twisted and turned, growing, lit from within, and when they had finished they had become the bodies of Chet, Annis, and Gem. Her friends fell lifeless at her feet. Now she could move, and she fell to her knees beside them, crying their names. Chet’s throat was cut, the same as always. Gem would not attack her now, for his body was broken in a thousand places. Annis had dark bruises around her throat where she had been strangled.

  Someone dragged her head up and back by the hair.

  “The knife,” hissed Auntie’s voice. But it was not Auntie who held her—it was Damaris, and the merchant held the same knife as before, an old, rusted, twisted thing, far below her station.

  Lorne woke just as the knife parted the skin of her throat.

  The sound of her scream escaped her, but she came to herself just in time, and stopped it there, so that she only gave a little yelp. Her hands grasped in the darkness, but she did not strike out at it, did not hit Chet by accident. She only found his arm on the other side of the tent, and gripped it, squeezing it tight, afraid to let go.

  Chet shifted in his sleep and rolled onto his back. But he did not wake.

  She lay there a while, letting her pulse slow, letting the panic and the fear seep from her, like water from a rag hung up to dry. It was somewhat of a relief to know that the aftereffects of these dreams were passing. Mayhap, in time, she would even wake without feeling the terror they always left behind.

  When her pulse had stilled, she sat up and dressed herself in silence and then slipped from the tent. Outside, their little clearing was fairly well lit, for both moons hung directly above them in the sky. She looked up at them and loosed a long breath, feeling the last of the tension leave her.

  “Did you dream?”

  The voice startled her, sending adrenaline coursing through her limbs once more. She looked across the camp to find Niya, sitting against the base of a tree, standing watch. Of course it would be Niya on duty, thought Loren..

  “I did,” said Loren.

  Niya rose and took a step forwards. “And what did you see?”

  Loren blanched. “See?”

  “In your dream. I heard a brief cry. Did you not have a nightmare?” Niya was studying her face, her head cocked slightly, curious.

  “I … yes. But I cannot remember it.”

  “Hm.”

  She strode forwards, and Loren tensed, though she did not know why. But Niya went straight past her and towards the trees. Just before she vanished from sight she stopped and turned.

  “Will you stand for me, while I relieve myself?”

  “Yes, of course,” said Loren. “I will take the watch, if you wish it. I do not think I will sleep again tonight.”

  Niya nodded and vanished.

  Loren went to where the Mystic had been sitting, and put her back against the same tree. The ground still held some warmth, and she sighed.

  Her thoughts returned to her dream. The peaks she knew well enough—they were visible enough now, a darker black against the backdrop of stars in the sky. But the path she had seen … and the caravan that traveled it … those were sights she had not seen with her waking eyes.

  She thought back to Hewal, and how her dreams had shown him in Dahab. Could this be the same? Was Yewamba in the mountains themselves? If so, she was correct in her reluctance to move the camp, for they would not find the fortress in the lands surrounding the Greatrocks.

  Niya soon returned and entered her tent without a word. Loren stood watch the rest of the night, and when dawn came, she waited impatiently for everyone to rise.

  “I have had a thought,” she said. “We should not move the camp.”

  “What, then?” said Niya. “Did some messenger in the night bring you news of Yewamba’s whereabouts?”

  Loren smiled. “No. But I wonder if we have been looking in the right place. We have been searching the lands near the mountains. But those lands are open to all, even casual passers by. If Yewamba had been built in such a place, surely it could not have escaped notice all these years. It would be on the maps. But it is not. What if it is in the mountains?” Loren looked at Annis and Gem. “We know full well how cleverly a stronghold can be concealed that way.”

  Their expressions grew solemn, and she knew they were thinking, as she was, of the Shade stronghold where Jordel had met his end.

  Niya looked to Shiun. The scout shrugged. “It is possible. We could easily have missed a path into the mountains in our searching, for we did not look for such a thing.”

  “It would make sense,” Annis interjected. “I told you that much coin and many supplies had vanished in this area, enough for a mighty stronghold indeed. I had been wondering how so large a place could escape notice of the High King’s mapmakers.”

  With a sigh, Niya shrugged. “Very well. It seems as good a guess as any.”

  They ate hastily after that. Loren could feel it in all of them—a sense of nearing the end of their journey, that this time, surely, they would find what they sought. They mounted their horses and rode off. But this time they rode together, making as far west as they could, and did not split into two groups until they had reached the feet of the mountains. Then they
went in the same groups of three as they had the past two days.

  This time, the going was far slower, for they had to ride around and over ridges, and the land itself seemed to try to halt their progress. Soon Loren began to grow frustrated, and with her frustration came doubts. This was taking more than three times as long. What if it was all a waste of time? What if another day went by, and they were no closer to their goal? That was only another day for Damaris to prepare for their coming, or else decide to flee Yewamba before they arrived.

  She looked up and froze. Her hands jerked on the reins, and Midnight came to a sudden stop. Chet and Weath wheeled around, staring at her.

  “What is it?” said Chet.

  But Loren could not take her eyes from the mountain peaks. There were two of them, and she recognized them. She had seen them the night before, in her dream.

  “Weath, ride south,” she said. “Tell Niya to come at once, and bring the others.”

  Chet and Weath looked at each other, and then they followed Loren’s gaze. “What is it?” said Chet.

  “I am not certain.”

  Weath hesitated, choosing her words carefully. “Then what should I tell Niya, when I find her?”

  “Tell her I have found something. Bring her to the foot of those two peaks there.”

  She showed Weath, and then the Mystic rode away south. She and Chet pressed on ahead.

  “Did you see it?” said Chet. “In a dream?”

  “Yes,” said Loren. “It came to me last night.”

  His brows rose. “I did not hear you.”

  “They are growing less terrible,” she said. At least after I wake, she thought to herself.

  They soon reached the place, and Loren saw what she had already known they would find there: a small wagon trail that vanished between the foot of the mountains. She could almost imagine the caravan wagons making their way into the Greatrocks—but then her imagination conjured Gregor before her, and she shuddered, feeling the blood drain from her face.

  “Are you all right?” said Chet.

  “Yes,” she said quietly. “We should get out of sight and wait for the others.”

  They took the horses off into the trees, but before they did so, Loren turned to look at where the trail ran off in the other direction. At once she saw the reason why they had not spotted it from the main road when they had come this way the past two days: the trail ended abruptly just before a small gap in a ridge, where a stone floor split a rock wall. It was natural, but as perfect for concealment as if it had been built by human hands. On the other side of the wall, she did not doubt that the trail resumed—but if they had seen it from that side, they would surely have thought that the trail led to nowhere, and would not have tried to follow it.

  They dismounted and tied their horses to a tree out of sight of the path, and then sat together in silence as they studied the peaks, fixing themselves a light lunch. Loren thought of taking her bow and trying to hunt, but she did not wish to be out of sight if Niya and the others should return. They did so some time after midday, the steady clop-clop of their horses’ hooves audible through the trees. Loren stepped into the open and hailed them as soon as they came into sight. They gathered around her on the path, looking over the peaks and the meager trail that led between them.

  “A fortunate find,” said Niya. She looked at Loren and arched an eyebrow. “I find it incredible that you should have stumbled upon this by chance.”

  Loren kept her expression carefully neutral. “What other explanation is there?”

  Niya’s nostrils flared, and she looked away.

  “You think this is the way to Yewamba?” said Uzo. “That seems a meager track to supply a fortress as large as the Yerrin girl made it sound.”

  “We have found no better sign,” said Loren. “Let us investigate it.”

  “Lead the way, Shiun,” said Niya. “And be wary. If we are indeed upon the right trail, there will be guards before long, if they have not seen us already.”

  “We should proceed on foot,” said Shiun. “For the noise, and so that we may pass more easily between the trees.”

  Niya nodded and dismounted, and the rest of them followed suit. Then Shiun went on ahead of them, running at a half-trot into the trees, where she disappeared. Loren and Chet strung their bows, and the rest of them set off after her at a slower pace. “It is fortunate after all that we did not move the camp,” said Niya, giving Loren a careful look.

  “Fortunate indeed,” said Loren, not returning her gaze.

  Not even an hour passed before Shiun returned to them, stepping out from behind a trunk as though she had appeared from thin air. The party came to a halt, and Niya’s hand went to the hilt of her sword.

  “There are guards,” said Shiun. “They are many, and they are Yerrins.”

  Loren and Niya went on ahead with her. She took them silently through the trees, and Loren made very sure to place her feet just as Shiun did—she had some gift with woodcraft and stealth, but Shiun was a master of it. They stopped, and Shiun pointed to the top of a ridge on their right. Loren saw two little bumps, and as they watched for a moment, one of them moved.

  “Two up there,” said Shiun. “And three there.”

  She pointed back down the slope they were on, towards the path, which curled and curved its way through the jungle. A motion in the trees beside the path caught Loren’s eye, and she saw three more figures. They wore green cloaks.

  “Something is close by, that is certain,” said Niya.

  “There are none higher up the ridge we stand upon,” said Shiun. “We can press on that way.”

  They followed the ground up, until they had almost emerged from the trees and into the daylight. But Shiun stopped them, keeping them concealed, and they followed the course of the ridge as it ran farther west. Soon they had passed the guards on the opposite ridge. Below them and ahead of them, they saw that the path took a long turn around the spurs of the mountain that stretched down on either side of it.

  Ahead of them, the sun had neared the mountains. Soon it would be dark, and Loren was growing somewhat impatient. But she did not say anything, for Shiun could do nothing about the passing of the day, and besides, who knew if other guards might lurk in the jungle around them?

  At last, just as the sun began to sink out of sight, they rounded the spur to follow the path’s curve. And there at last, they found what they were looking for.

  They walked upon the foot of a mountain, but a smaller peak stood pressed up against it, and that peak ended in a flat top. Upon that top was built a mighty stronghold that Loren knew at once must be Yewamba. It stretched out towards them into a great point, like the prow of a ship, or the head of an arrow, and all along the top of it ran a great wall. The land that sloped up towards the fortress was rocky and treacherous, and only a single road had been built in it. From where they stood, they could see that not only the walls of the stronghold had arrow slits, but they were cut into the sides of the mountain as well. It must have been built into the rock itself, descending down into the earth, so that the mountain was the fortress and the fortress the mountain.

  The image of a wide cavern flashed into her mind, the cavern where she had seen Damaris in her dream. She suppressed a shiver.

  “Yewamba,” said Niya, fierce excitement plain in her voice.

  “If Damaris of the family Yerrin is anywhere in Underrealm,” said Loren, “it is here.”

  thirty-one

  THEY DID NOT SPEAK OF what they had seen while they made their way back out of the valley, for they did not know for certain if there were any more guards around. It was a long walk, made longer by the fact that the sun had now gone down and they had to pick their way through the darkness. Loren’s mind raced all the while, wondering what they should do. When she had first heard of Yewamba, she had not imagined it would be so grand a place, so impregnable. The thought of trying to conquer the fortress with only six of them—eight, if they counted Gem and Annis—now seemed laughable
. But what was their alternative? Returning to Ammon? Kal would be furious with her, and she would not even have accomplished what she came here to do, which might stay his wrath.

  At last they reached the place where Chet and the Mystics waited for them. They all came forward and gathered in a group, but Loren held up a hand to forestall their questions.

  “There will be time enough to tell you what we saw, but now we must return to camp. Gem and Annis are likely worried sick, and we should not leave them alone overnight in any case.” And she would not say another word until they had all mounted their horses and begun to ride east. Shiun had them remain quiet until they were out of the valley mouth and back near the main road again, but then Chet turned to Loren.

  “Did you find Yewamba?”

  “Yes,” said Loren, and the others looked at her with interest. “It is a mighty fortress, and from what we could tell, it is well garrisoned. I do not think that all the Mystics in Ammon could take it by force.”

  Niya looked at her sharply. “It is good, then, that we mean to use subterfuge instead.”

  “I do not see how,” said Loren.

  “Then you intend to give up?” said Niya. “We have come too far for that.”

  Loren shook her head. “Let us discuss this when we have returned, and we can think upon it properly.”

  “Then ride faster.” Niya obeyed her own command at once, savagely nudging her horse into a canter in the moonslight.

  Gem and Annis came to meet them with palpable relief when they reached the camp at last. “We were worried,” said Annis. “We feared you had been discovered and taken.”

  “I am glad to say we were not,” said Chet. “Not yet, at any rate, though I think Niya has some mad scheme to ensure that is how we meet our end.”

  “Do not make snide comments at me, boy,” snarled Niya. “If you have counsel to give, then let us hear it.”

  “Enough,” said Loren. “All will be heard in turn.”

  They sat around the fire Gem and Annis had built. Loren and Niya described Yewamba, with Shiun interjecting every so often with some description of the place and the guards placed around it. When they had finished, Chet spread his hands.