One's Own Shadow (The Siúil Book 2)

by Randall P. Fitzgerald

  The small pleasures of being rid of the satyr were what pleased her the most. That the wind did not occasionally waft with the stink of unwashed fur and, if the horse made any noise at all, it was not shrill and insistent. In a way, Aile found herself saddened that the ride could not have been longer. A way to cleanse her mind of the frustration of so much time spent among hippocamps. A part of her even looked forward to being among the elves again. The Low District elves of Fásachbaile’s Bastion City were a particularly stupid set, even as elves went, but they at least made good food and good ale.

  Her feelings toward the ride changed when the city walls came into view. A soft bed would do her mind much better than the back of a horse. She pulled the reins back when there were maybe a hundred yards between her and the south gate. The guards watched her intently but did not move out to ask after her or question what she might want. Aile came down from the horse and assembled her belongings into a leather pack she had strapped behind the saddle bags. As she walked toward the gate, she heard the clop of hooves against hard dirt behind her and she turned. The horse, the one which was trained to roam free by the horsefolk, was following her. It turned its head to look her up and down when she stopped. It chuffed and bobbed its head. She started walking again and again the horse kept pace behind her. Aile sighed and continued on to the gate. What could she do? Kill it? Scream at it? Not if she hoped to walk into the Bastion City after.

  She came to the guard nearest the left side of the city gates where the wicket was. He looked at her and then to the horse that followed her.

  “Business in the city?”

  “None. I intend to spend money on food, drink, and bed.”

  He looked over her shoulder again. “Your horse?”

  “It… would appear so.”

  The guard shrugged. “Well-trained. Anyway, keep out of trouble. We got no mercy for troublemakers of late. Still, long as your gold’s good welcome to the Bastion City, Drow.”

  He moved aside and pulled open the wicket. The horse followed her through as well and the door was closed behind them. She remembered the rooms she had stayed in on her last trip to the desert city were passable enough and that the ale was good. She had a mind to fill herself with it until she was near to bursting. The city was curiously quiet as she walked down the main run. It did not stop the stares. Perhaps they would start more legends, now, with a horse keeping pace behind her. She could imagine them now. Potshop drunkards raving about how Drow can control the minds of horses and enslave them. Perhaps she could. There was little reason for the horse to be following her. Little reason that she could understand, anyway. Had it enjoyed riding without the chariot so much? It was possible the animal thought she was also a horse or something similar. At the very least, it was quiet. The rhythmic clacking of the hooves was a common enough sound that it did not annoy her too deeply. And there was undeniable use in a horse that followed her.

  She found the tavern she had occasioned the last time she came through the city and pushed open the door. The horse began to follow so Aile stopped. She turned to the horse.

  “No.” She waved her hand away from the door and the horse dutifully trotted to a wall a few yards away and laid down. She eyed it curiously and turned back to enter the tavern. It was empty aside from a grim looking elf in the far corner nursing a mug and the woman behind the counter. The worker did not look familiar to her, but she could not remember elf faces that well if they had not been accompanied with an exchange of money or blood.

  “Whas a Drow want in ‘ere?” The woman behind the counter had a crude voice and a nose upturned too far. Aile felt as though she’d have been able to see in it were the light not so dim.

  “A room. And ale. And food.”

  “We got ‘em. You got coin?”

  Aile came to the counter and threw three cubes of gold onto it.

  “Strange lookin’ for coin.” The woman picked one up and looked it over. She put it to her teeth and bit, pulling it away to see light marks where she had put the pressure. She stared at the cube for a moment and then swept the other two from the counter and put them into her apron. “Squares is as good as circles, I reckon. Take whatever room you like. All of ‘em’s open. Bit early for lunch. Be an hour or two. We got leeks and ham. Dinner’s roast chicken. Hard to come by of late, but you come by the right place.”

  “Ale.” Aile said, looking at the man in the corner. He was passed out from the looks of it.

  The woman nodded and filled her mug. It was foamy, rich, and dark. The smell was enticing and Aile wondered if it would have been so if she had not been so desperate for something made half decent.

  “Anythin’ else you’ll be needin’?”

  Aile took a swig of the ale and pulled a deep breath through her nose to take the aroma into her body. “My horse,” she said finally.

  “Horse? We don’t…”

  “I need no stable. If you see it sat outside, I would ask that you give it whatever scraps you have.” Aile tossed another two gold cubes onto the counter. The woman raised her eyebrows at the gold and shrugged.

  “Alright. That all, then?”

  “Yes.”

  Aile took her mug and ascended the stairs to find the vaguely familiar layout. She turned right and took the door nearest the stairs. When she entered, the look of the place reminded her of an elf girl that had broken in. Tiny by elf standards from every conceivable angle. She took another drink from her mug. The girl was like to be dead if she’d not grown a brain. Good riddance, Aile thought.

  She threw her pack to the ground and laid herself in the bed. It was lumpy and a bit too soft but her body could find no complaint. A wave of warm comfort rolled across her from her shoulders down to her feet. The ache in them radiated and pulsed and began to dim. Aile could not decide whether she would allow herself to sleep. The day seemed as though it would be a good time to have her resting done. After lunch, she decided.

  The hours seemed to pass by too quickly on the lead up. She made a count of her coin beyond the gold cubes. They had been taken in enough places but she could not expect that to work everywhere. She had just over two hundred, more than enough for resupply and any frivolities she might want to indulge in. There was still work to be done, however. This was a brief respite and nothing more. The thought of it turned her stomach, returning to the satyr camp. Her poisons were low, especially her paralytic. It had seen more use than she’d expected and far less than she’d have liked.

  When lunch was called, she went and ate in the tavern area. A lighter ale was served with the food. She asked, on a whim, if the elf had ever heard of faun. A confused look answered the question amply. The proprietress was more helpful in pointing her toward an apothecary. Aile finished her meal and went to find the man. The horse had been waiting and followed her along. She was disappointed to find the shop abandoned and ransacked. It did not look as though anyone had been through the place for a season. She entered to see if she might find anything of use and left with some salts that were of little use on their own and nothing else. Anything of value was gone or exposed to air and dried beyond any usable state. There was no sense in wandering the city to be gawped at so Aile made her way back to the tavern. The streets seemed half empty compared to what she remembered and she had not seen a guard since passing the gate. All the better for her, she thought. Fewer elves meant fewer who would have designs on approaching her for some challenge or perceived slight or whatever mindless garbage elves were like to come up with.

  The horse took its place near the wall when they arrived back at their destination and Aile entered the tavern, took another mug of ale, and retreated to her room. She drank half of what she’d been given and slept. A decision she half-regretted when she woke just after dark. Her muscles all ached and fought her with each attempt to move. They eventually gave in but continued to make her movement more burdensome than she’d have liked. She drank the r
est of her ale and moved to the tavern to await dinner. When it was served she spent the better part of ten minutes smelling it before she finally tore into the chicken and potatoes. The elf behind the counter stared at her curiously the entire time she ate. It must have amused her but Aile was not concerned with her standing in the eyes of a tavern wench. She finished the meal and sat quietly with a mug of ale that she was quickly losing interest in. A few elves had come for dinner and milled around talking to one another and shooting glances at the wonder of the Blackwood that had come among them. She was nearly ready to retire to her room when she heard stamping from outside and the braying of a horse. She stood and crossed the room in a hurry, throwing the door open.

  Two drunk elves were hopping side long around the horse, taunting it and attempting to corral it backward toward a nearby alley.

  “Ah, yer a big fucker int ya? Never seen one so big.” A ratty looking elf, bald but for a ring of unkempt hair matted against the back of his head.

  “C’mon now horsey, keep it shut.” His partner. A wiry elf with a long scar running down the side of his face and onto his neck.

  Aile stopped in the street and put a hand on the hilt of her long dagger before cursing under her breath. She had not seen a guard, but there was no call in assuming there were none.

  “Elves.” They turned at Aile’s call. “You are troubling my property. Go and I will not end your lives.”

  The ratty one stepped forward. “A tiny little blackheart and her giant horsey, eh? Like a bleedin’ fairy tale.”

  Aile gave him no response but he kept walking to her. The other was still stood, arms wide, in front of the horse. He had stopped minding the animal and stared over his shoulder at what his partner had gotten up to.

  “’Fraid we, uh, whassat word? Appropriated this animal. We’d be more’n happy to sell him back. Twenty gold oughta cover it, eh?”

  “Huhuhu” A stupid laugh from the helper. “Yeah, oughta do real nice.”

  “And maybe we appropriate you.”

  The ratty one reached his hand out to touch her face and Aile grabbed tight to his wrist. She leapt from the ground and kicked with all her force against his shoulder as she pulled the arm. The pops, snaps, and rips came just before the screams. Blood immediately stained the ratty elf’s shirt and he collapsed to the ground. Aile had let go of the arm and pushed herself away as he fell. She landed on her back but quickly came to her feet to watch the other in case he moved. He did, but only to turn and add to the chaos of his friend’s screaming.

  “Fire’s bloody—” His curse was cut short as the horse bit hard at his still outstretched arm. The bone snapped and much of the skin ripped. His screams were panicked and he struggled to breathe normally. When the animal pulled away, the man’s arm fell limp and the elf went to his knees.

  The ratty one stood now and looked at Aile in terror. He said nothing, just stared, holding his arm and wincing against the pain. He dragged himself away into the alley at the far side of the street and his partner followed behind, crying and coughing in fits, begging the other to wait. The horse watched them as they left and when their wails were distant and quiet, looked at Aile for a moment and then returned to its place at the wall.

  Aile walked to the horse, her horse, and stroked its face. It chuffed happily and pushed her lightly on the shoulder with its muzzle, blood still dripping from the horse’s chin.

  “You are a good animal.”

  She turned and went back inside the tavern and headed upstairs to bed down for the night. She had troublesome work yet to be done, but she had solved a problem she had expected would take a hefty portion of her coin. She could not help but allow herself a satisfied smile as she climbed into bed. Reliable travel did not often come so cheap, after all.

  Part Eleven

  V

  Z

  Socair

  Socair’s mind was a fog when she finally woke. As hard as she tried, she could not seem to put the night in order in her mind, though she felt she could remember the bulk of it. Deifir had made love to her. It was rough, but pleasurable. Socair sat at the edge of the bed running the pieces of time over and over through her head. With the passing minutes some of them began to have coherent meaning. The Treorai had seemed almost desperate, as though her advances were meant to convey some message. A brief flash of Deifir crying and another of her speaking with a stern look on her face were there. Another where Deifir had shown her papers, but Socair could remember none of the words. She had been drugged. There was enough clarity to her thoughts to understand that, but not for some evil purpose. At least, no evil purpose that she could sense through it all.

  A moment of clarity begged her to look around. She was alone, still in Deifir’s chambers. Things were missing from the room. Socair stood, unsteady, and got to her clothes. Her mind began to clear as the rush of panic spread through her. She remembered her fevered ride to Abhainnbaile and the weeks before. They came together to stretch out through her mind and the questions grew larger and louder in her thoughts. She pulled her smallclothes on. They sat uncomfortable against her tacky skin.

  The door to Deifir’s room pushed open and Socair found Práta sitting across the hall on a bench wearing a loose, informal dress.

  “You are awake.”

  Práta managed the words in a half nervous voice before blushing and looking away. It was a face that tore at Socair’s heart and she had seen it nearly every time Deifir had called her to take part in the carnal duties that the Binse required. Práta had apologized for it, but it only stood to make Socair feel further from her. She did not want an apology, she wanted to be excused from that single requirement of her post and she suspected that Deifir knew as much. She had told Práta a dozen times. Socair shook the thoughts away, remembering that there was more that needed answering in the immediate. The hallways were empty and the Bastion was quiet.

  “What has happened?”

  Práta nodded. “The Treorai has left along with a small force, including her personal guard to travel south to the front.”

  “Why was I not woken?” Socair balled her fists. “And why was I drugged?”

  “Drugged?”

  “It does not matter now. Why did you not wake me?”

  “The Treorai came to me specifically and instructed me I was not to do so. All I could do was wait for you here.”

  Socair looked down the hall and saw no shadows through the window.

  “What is the time?”

  “Past midday.”

  It all made no sense. There was little reason for Deifir to travel to the front and even less to leave behind her Binse of War.

  “Come, I must get ready myself to leave.”

  Socair turned and started down the hall. Práta fell in beside her. The hall seemed to go on forever and to look down it made Socair’s mind spin. She struggled to keep her footing and it seemed to be made worse by the disorganized thoughts in her head.

  “Práta,” she began. “Tell me everything that’s happened this morning. I… I need to make sense of it.”

  “I woke and dressed. Nath did not stir so I left her and went to fetch breakfast. As I ate, a guard came to me and said my presence was requested. I thought nothing of it until I came to Deifir in the main hall. She was dressed in an ornate gown, the sort she uses for public addresses and the like. I asked why you were not with her and she said that you needed rest and insisted that I not wake you. I was told to attend her speech, where she told the townsfolk that she would go to the front. That she could not sit idly in the Bastion while the fate of our future was being fought for elsewhere. I do not understand why she would leave you…”

  “Was there anything else? Was it just her personal guard?”

  “No. No, there were some soldiers, recalled from the north a week prior.”

  “And of course, I was told none of it.” Socair stopped in the hallway, he
r fists still clenched tight. “Am I being punished? Replaced? Truly, I failed but in a mission I was unsuited to from the moment I left. And to not even be able to fight…”

  Práta ran her hand down Socair’s arm gently and came near to her. “I know no better than you what meaning lies behind all of this. Still, no one has said you cannot fight. Or that you must remain here. And would you listen if they had?”

  Socair took Práta’s hand. She stood silent a moment, looking at the stained glass before her and thinking of what must be done. Práta had the right of it. In the moment, she almost felt ashamed at how often she forgot lately. She was no noble and the games of nobles held no interest for her. If everything else was to be stripped of her, they could not stop her fighting the hippocamps. Her mind was still shaky, but Socair had made a rough plan of things. She would send Práta after food for the both of them while she dressed. She relayed the plan and made for her quarters.

  She came to her room and pulled the door open quickly. Nath had been sitting on a chair quietly, at least until the door came open. She stood and backed away, a look of terror on her face until she realized that it was Socair who had come. Her expression changed completely and she ran to Socair, nearly jumping into her arms.

  “I was so worried. I thought someone had come to take me.”

  “No one will take you, Nath. I know it is hard to break away from your life before, but you are safe now. No one will hurt you.”