Shadows Past: A Borderlands Novel
Page 23
Shivering, I quickly turned my horse once more to join the searchers, hoping that they hadn’t noticed my momentary change in direction—or if they had, didn’t realize the reason why—only to come to another complete stop.
I was alone.
Standing up in my saddle, I looked ahead, thinking that in planning my getaway maybe I had fallen behind. But though the trees had thinned, all I saw beyond the forest was harvested land left fallow for the winter. Falling back into my saddle, I scanned the trees in back of me, now thinking that maybe I’d pulled ahead. I saw no one.
Somehow I’d managed to get lost in Idwal’s forest. Or maybe not. I cast a suspicious glance at my water sphere, but it remained silent as it hovered out in front of my horse. After a moment, I tapped my horse’s sides with my heels and hurried back into the forest, my eyes and ears straining for the sights and sounds of other riders, other horses. Other than the muffled clop of my horse’s hooves against the leaf cover, though, the woods remained empty, silent, and unfamiliar. However, there was one landmark I did know. Turning my head, I could see the castle rising above the bare trees, the sun just slipping down behind it. Reorienting myself, I urged my horse towards the turreted silhouette, expecting to reach the road and catch up with my search party at any moment. But while I kept the castle before me, I saw nothing but tree trunks. The sun continued to sink until it completely disappeared and dusk settled in, bringing with it an evening breeze that caused the bare tree branches to sway in the deepening gloom. The castle was now a dark shape against the fading sky, and while I could hear the distant boom of the breakers against the cliffs, it was silent in the forest. I felt the hair on my nape rise. The Watcher was back.
Maybe.
And maybe it was just some nocturnal animal out scrounging for food. Stopping again, I listened to the oppressive silence and heard a twig snap. Remembering the dogs’ behavior, I quietly reached for my sword, my eyes straining as I searched the trees, my fire sphere casting dancing shadows. There was another moment of stillness; then several things happened at once: several men burst out from the trees, wielding swords, nets, and pikes, and a brick wall slammed into me.
I had been cut off from my aspects before, once by a sylph in Elanwryfindyll, and more recently by the demon in Freston. Both times it was done with the precision of a sharp, thin blade and I didn’t realize what had happened until afterwards. Now, however, there was no finesse involved; I could feel the effort to wretch control of the aspects from me. Contemplating giving them up, however misguided, was one thing. Having them stolen was another. Besides, they were mine. Howling in rage, I fought back both in talent and physically, my not so placid horse rearing up with a scream as I swung my sword at the rushing attackers while clutching hard at the aspects. At that moment, all the spheres winked out and the forest night fell upon us with a heavy weight.
Panting, I scrabbled after the aspects, but while I could feel them just beyond my reach, I couldn’t quite grasp hold, aware of the other talent wielder also straining for them, while all around me the attackers fumbled, as blind as I was. I heard one trip and fall, grunting as he hit the ground with a rustling thud. Controlling my shying horse with my knees, I blindly struck out with my sword again. There was the dull sound of metal hitting wood and I instinctively pulled back. But it wasn’t me who buried a weapon in a branch. Someone else got close enough to jab a pike at me and, feeling the air move close to my face, I ducked, lying along my horse’s neck. That attacker too must’ve hit a branch, for there was another dull thunk. Swinging my horse around, I started to strike out again with my sword, when there were more dull thuds.
“What the hell—?” someone said, his voice muffled and distorted as if he wore something over his mouth.
Startled, I sat up—and, feeling the swish of something moving close over my head, I ducked again, fast, while all around me the ambushers started to scream, their voices blending until they sounded like one long shriek. Up above, the first stars of the night appeared in the clear sky; down among the trees it was murky black as all around were the sounds of metal against wood as if the men were attacking the trees—and now the more disturbing sound of flesh being struck. Then, as abruptly as they began, the screams cut off, leaving the forest just as quiet as before. After a few moments of silence, I slowly sat up, sword still in hand, straining my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything. Cautiously, I reached for the aspects, and let out a silent sigh of relief when I felt their presence. Not blocked, then. I searched warily, ready to slam back at the first hint of the struggle being renewed. But the sense of the other talent wielder was gone. For now. Debating whether to resummon fire, I caught sight of a light in the distance. Taking a firmer grip on my sword, I waited as the light drew closer and I could make out a slender figure holding it.
It was Bertram, holding a lantern in front of him.
Eighteen
Jusson was coming down the tor as I was on my way back up.
I hadn’t wasted any time in the forest, but had, after a cursory inspection of the trees and ground, swung Bertram up in front of me and headed for where I’d last seen the castle. I almost immediately found the road and a short while later I left the trees and began the ascent, my horse’s hooves wearily plodding against the hard-packed dirt. As we climbed, I could see the lanterns bobbing madly as they rushed down to meet me. Jusson and I met midway in a circle of light, the king wearing his battle helm and armor and leading an army of aristos, soldiers, royal guards, and armsmen, facing me with Bertram. Jusson immediately stopped the column, his gaze resting on Bertram as I explained what had happened. But the moment the king heard “ambush” he started again.
“Ride with Thadro,” he snapped.
Keeping Bertram with me, I turned my horse and joined the lord commander—who was with Suiden and Wyln—as the column made its way back down into the forest. We were able to find the ambush site fairly quickly even though night had thoroughly fallen. In the increased light from multiple lanterns, I could see more clearly what Bertram’s single lantern had hinted: plenty of churned up leaf litter, but no people—dead or alive.
Suiden swung down from his horse to examine the ground. “Five or six attackers,” he began.
“We can see that, Captain Prince,” Jusson said, his eyes bright gold in the lantern shine.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Suiden said. Brushing away some of the leaf litter, he pulled up a pike. It was standard issue—something that foot soldiers carried the world over—except that it was painted entirely black. Wyln looked hard at it; then, making a discreet fire sphere, he lifted his head to examine the trees.
“I don’t think you were supposed to see this coming, ibn Chause,” an aristo remarked.
I didn’t think so either, but then, that was the nature of ambushes. I watched Thadro quietly pluck the pike out of Suiden’s hand and examined it before offering it to Jusson. The king waved it away, his gold eyes on me.
“What happened?” he asked.
At first there was only the normal shifting and creaking of saddles, folks falling silent as I continued my tale. However, when I got to the part where I became separated from the search party, there was a snicker or two and a muffled guffaw.
“Is that an occupational hazard, ibn Chause?” a southie lord asked, smirking. His gaze went to the castle, visible even in the night, outlined against the stars. “Getting lost in plain view of your destination?”
“Ha, ha, my lord,” I said.
“Was it because of water’s illusion, Two Trees’son?” Wyln asked over the increased laughter.
“No, honored cyhn,” I said. “At least not because of me. There was another talent wielder.”
All laughter ceased as I described the ambush, both the physical one and the one against my aspects. Following Wyln’s example, lanterns were raised as the rest of the group closely looked at the trees. There weren’t any marks on them at all—no gashes, no scratches, no nothing—and I saw more than one person bless themselves.
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“Do you think this is connected with the disappearances?” another aristo asked, glancing nervously around.
I’d been eyeing the blackened pike but at the implication that our missing hadn’t been found, I looked up ready to ask. I then caught the expression on Jusson’s face and kept my questions to myself.
“Possibly,” the king said. He turned his horse full circle, examining the trees himself. “In any event, it seems that Mearden’s Watcher is alive and very much aware. If this is indeed its work. Search the area; let us see what we find.”
A wider search turned up a couple of swords and a dagger, also painted black. But that was it.
“Set guards,” Jusson said. “We’ll come back in the morning.”
Several soldiers were posted, all wearing unhappy faces, and Jusson led us back to the castle. I started to fall in with Wyln, Thadro, and Suiden again, but Jusson motioned to me to join him. As I urged my horse forward, I realized that both Jeff and Arlis were missing. As was Lord Idwal. And I hadn’t seen Ryson in the mix of garrison troopers. I cast a wary glance at Jusson—and met his gold gaze looking back.
“Become separated from your guards again and I will chain you to them,” Jusson said.
“Sire?” I asked, startled.
“This is not a game, Rabbit,” Jusson said.
“I know that—”
“Not from what I can see,” Jusson said. “You blithely wandered off, with no thought to the consequences.”
Actually I had thought about the consequences, just not soon enough. “I didn’t wander off, Your Majesty,” I began.
“Oh?” Jusson asked. “Several reported that you pulled out of the search line. That is not true?”
I opened my mouth, then shut it again, realizing that anything I said would dig me a deeper hole. Jusson’s face grew grimmer at my silence.
“You are my heir, Rabbit,” he said. “You cannot go around gathering rosebuds with your head stuck up your arse.”
I winced. “I know, Your Majesty,” I said.
“Pox rot it, then act like it,” Jusson said. “Right now you’re more a danger to yourself than Slevoic and his friends ever were.”
I shifted a bit, vaguely wondering whether Bertram had fallen asleep, for he was surprisingly heavy against my arm. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said. “It was just that I was distracted—”
“No,” Jusson said, cutting me off. “Absolutely not. No excuses. None whatsoever. Especially with our missing and bespelled folk.”
“Laurel and the rest haven’t been found?” I asked.
“No,” Jusson said again, impatient. “And even if they had—” He broke off to skewer me with another look. “Do you know what would’ve happened to Mearden if that ambush had succeeded? What would’ve happened to your guards? What is going to happen because they returned without you?”
I sat up straight, alarmed. “It’s not Jeff’s fault—”
“You think I should wink at this? You think because he’s your friend I should let it slide?” Jusson asked. “Our mother the queen would’ve taken my guards’ heads off herself if they had ever misplaced me, and then she would have imprisoned me for letting it happen.” There was another flash of gold eyes. “Perhaps I’ve been too lenient with you, making allowances that never should’ve been made. That too will stop, beginning with you telling Guardsmen Jeffen and Arlis their punishment for losing the king’s heir—”
“Talent was worked, Your Majesty,” I said, desperate.
Jusson didn’t slow down. “So you said. And perhaps magic did cause you to become separated and lost. But tell me. Where were your guards when you were split off from the rest? With you?”
Apparently someone tattled about Jeff and Arlis’ spat. “They were in our group,” I began.
“That’s not what I asked,” Jusson said.
I closed my eyes. “No, Your Majesty,” I admitted. “They weren’t with me.”
“It seems that they too do not take their duties seriously,” Jusson said. “This we also will fix.”
“I don’t think it would’ve mattered where they were, sire. I was with the other riders and then I wasn’t.” I started to indicate the spheres hovering about me, then remembered that they had disappeared on me. Frowning a bit, I lowered my hand again. “And just before the ambush hit, the aspects moved into a defensive position.”
“Your guards didn’t know you were gone until they were almost back to the castle,” Jusson said. “If they were where they were supposed to be, they could’ve at the very least sounded the alarm that much sooner.”
“If the illusion hadn’t been cast—”
“We shall never know if they would’ve seen anything amiss because they weren’t there to see it,” Jusson said. He held up a hand. “Do not argue any further, Rabbit. It’s only by God’s grace and your own infernal luck that you were unharmed. They should be glad that is the case. They should be very glad.”
I fell silent, partly because of the royal threat hanging over my guards, but also because it finally sank in what Jusson had said about no one being aware of my disappearance. While I could see Arlis misplacing me in an irritated huff, it was incredible that Jeff—Master Notices Everything—hadn’t realized I wasn’t with the search group. But then, it now seemed incredible that Jeff had flounced off the way he did. Stay and make snide comments sotto voce, yes. Stay and stare holes in the back of my head, yes. Abandon his post, never. And what was even more incredible was that I let not only him do it, but Arlis too. Wondering whether Ryson had gotten rid of his sheep-biting stupidity by foisting it onto me, I shifted Bertram and scrubbed my hand against my leg, my spine tight and my gut churning at the thought of having to come up with a punishment for my best mate.
Too soon we reached the top of the tor and the castle, the sounds of our horses’ hooves against the courtyard paving stones echoing against the walls. Groomers ran up to take our horses and Jusson quickly dismounted, waiting as I set Bertram down before climbing down myself and pulling my staff from the saddle loops. He then turned and went up the stairs into the castle, with me following close behind him, pushing Bertram before me with my hand on the boy’s shoulder. Though they had stayed a discreet distance from Jusson and me as we rode up the tor road, a silent and grim-faced Thadro, Suiden, and several King’s Own neatly hemmed me in, the aristos following behind us, and we entered into the great hall with a clatter of armor, boots, and weapons.
The hall had been set up for the evening meal. Most of the pallets were gone and the injured, I supposed, moved to more comfortable quarters. In their stead were the long dining tables in neat rows, with servants moving about them as they finished the place settings. Lady Margriet and Berenice were overseeing the preparations for dinner, while Lord Idwal stood off to the side in a knot of royal guards. Princess Rajya, having escaped from her quarters, was standing with Munir in the middle of their own huddle of guards, while Kveta was on the sole remaining pallet by the fireplace, the castle healer with her. And standing surrounded by another group of King’s Own were Jeff, Arlis, and Ryson. Everyone paused, turning at our noisy entrance.
“Rabbit!” Jeff shouted, a profound look of relief on his and Ryson’s faces. He then scowled. Arlis, though, was blank-faced, his gaze more on Jusson and Thadro, than me. I looked back, my worry ratcheting up as I eyed their guards.
“You found him,” Lady Margriet said at the same time, her voice breaking. She put a steadying hand on a chair and Berenice quickly went to her mother, sliding an arm around Lady Margriet’s waist. Idwal also started to go to his wife and daughter, but the guard wall around him solidified.
Hell, I thought.
“Obviously,” Princess Rajya said to Lady Margriet.
Berenice’s eyes narrowed but before she could say anything, Lady Margriet pushed away from the chair and hurried to me in a rustle of her silk gown, her daughter still supporting her. “Are you all right, Lord Rabbit?”
I gave a quick bow. “Yes, my lady.”
At their approach, Bertram slipped out from under my hand and went to the king, and began to help Jusson remove his armor. Surrounded, I fought the urge to step back. Way back.
“Fortunate for everyone, including our cousin,” Jusson said, his voice light in contrast to his gold eyes. Removing his battle helm, he exchanged it for his plain gold circlet Bertram presented on a cushion. Surprised, I looked around for the royal servants who brought it. I saw none. “Though fortune has not appeared to shine upon the ones who attacked him,” the king said, reclaiming my attention.
As Jusson spoke, Thadro and Suiden walked up to a table and spilled the pike, dagger, and swords onto its surface, rattling the surrounding plates. Either Jusson or Thadro must’ve given some signal, for the King’s Own surrounding Lord Idwal moved away, though the ones around Jeff, Arlis, and Ryson, remained. Going to the table to look down at the weapons, Idwal immediately raised his hand to signal a servant.
“Have my captain come here—”
“We’ve already searched for the attackers, Mearden,” Jusson said, “and have set guards over the ambush site. The morning light might yield more clues.”
Idwal slowly lowered his hand. “Yes, Your Majesty.” Seeing Idwal freed, Lady Margriet angled away from me and went to her husband’s side, leaving me with just Her Highness and Berenice. Sort of. While Jeff, Arlis, and Ryson were still guarded, a couple of King’s Own had sprouted at my back. My shoulders twitched and Ryson’s and Arlis’ faces began to show hints of worry. Jeff’s scowl, though, just deepened.