Sourcethief (Book 3)

by J. S. Morin

  Abbiley had awakened feeling much improved. She was still light-shy, but did not need to keep her eyes wrapped. She borrowed Soria's cloak instead to keep off the glint of the dawnlight.

  "Happy age-day, Brannis," Soria greeted him when first he woke. "You're an old man now." She gave him a playful smile and ruffled his hair.

  "For a whole two days I share an age with you," Brannis retorted, ducking away from her.

  "Congratulations," Tomas said. He came across their little camp to clap Brannis on the back. "How old would that make you?"

  "Three and twenty summers ago I was born," Brannis replied. And in another world.

  "Twenty-three? By thunder, I thought you'd had a year or two on me, and I'll be seeing my thirtieth year soon, thanks to you and your friends."

  Brannis scratched his head. "Thanks?" he replied, unsure how to take the dubious assessment of his age.

  "Well, all the more life ahead of you, you know," Tomas said with a wink. Separated from the threat of imminent death, the man was irrepressible.

  Abbiley gave him a quieter congratulations just before they broke camp for the day, and thanked him for her rescue twice over. The only one to say nothing about it was Rakashi. Brannis realized that he had never spoken much with Rakashi when matters were less than urgent. In Scar Harbor, he had gone about his business while Brannis and Soria had met with Lord Harwick day after day. When they traveled by boat, he kept himself apart either by choice or because of the fawning affection of Takalish travelers who rarely saw warrior-scholars.

  Well, I'll find a time to talk with you—in private. We have some things that can be worked out between us, now that there is no one's life dangling by our delay.

  With no road or map to guide them, they set their course by sun and shadow, plodding north.

  Soria hung back with Brannis, and gave him a full accounting of the meeting she had had with Illiardra. She left out no detail. She told Brannis where to find the immortals' enclave, and the secrets that Illiardra had bade her to keep. She even told him about the gate between worlds that the immortals guarded, and the price they were willing to pay to stop him using it.

  "What made you decide to tell me all this?" Brannis asked.

  "Eyes open. I don't trust Illiardra," Soria replied. "She's manipulating me to manipulate you. She already made one false move by handing you the clues to Rashan's immortality. She made another by thinking she could convince me to hide this all from you."

  "I don't see myself turning into another Tallax. I can't say I'm even sure I want to destroy Rashan. He's unstable, I agree, but I think if I can overmaster him, I can keep him in check. I think we can partner to help rebuild the empire, to sniff out the remaining necromancers and eliminate them. If he doesn't make the first move, I don't see why I would fight him. I blamed him for Iridan's death, but I ... I think I misplaced that blame. Rashan is a murderous warmonger, too careless with lives, but Iridan's death was not his doing. I could have saved Iridan myself; Illiardra implied as much."

  "Don't rule out having to hunt him down like a rabid wolf," Soria cautioned. "You seem to have more confidence in him than anyone, even those who have known him a hundred winters."

  "That's just it though. I think I might understand him better than them. I think he looks at me as a friend."

  * * * * * * * *

  The late afternoon had shown them a rock-strewn stream, clear enough to drink from and deep enough for bathing. They made an early camp in a clearing a few minutes' walk distant, as the ground near the banks was too uneven for the horses or for sleeping.

  They had pilfered salted meats from the keep, and Brannis suggested a fire. The men gathered firewood and kindling, and Soria took Abbiley up to the stream to bathe and wash out their clothes.

  Though he had no axe, Brannis was able to chop all the firewood they could ever need with Avalanche. Tomas was even found to be useful at tending a fire—a feat most rough-raised boys can manage by the age of seven, but encouraging nonetheless.

  The sun was growing low in the sky, threatening to dip below the mountains that Brannis could only think to name Storm Spires by their Veydran counterparts, before Soria returned with Abbiley. Soria carried her armor, having changed into spare clothes. Abbiley's outfit clung to her, still not yet dried from washing. Both wore their hair plastered against their heads, still dripping.

  "Saved some for us, I hope?" Soria called out by way of greeting.

  "Just finished your share," Brannis joked. "But you can have some of mine if you like."

  "I think I will," Soria replied. "You boys go ahead on up to the stream. You smell like a slaughterhouse—all blood and horse sweat."

  * * * * * * * *

  Brannis followed Rakashi along the makeshift trail that Soria had found for them, Tomas in tow. The Takalish warrior had eaten little and said less since they had made camp. Brannis meant to put an end to the latter once they were well alone, and Tomas did not count as company.

  The trail was root-gnarled and rocky with little hollows filled with leaves that threatened to twist their ankles if they grew careless. Their path grew steep in places, prompting Brannis to grasp at saplings to keep his balance. Ahead of him, Rakashi seemed to have no trouble about the terrain, but he turned back often to make sure that Tomas was keeping up.

  They heard the stream before they reached it. The gentle gargle of the rushing water never seemed to vary as they approached. It must have played the same song for a hundred summers, or a thousand, or even longer. Brannis found himself contemplating the timelessness of things in nature, and could only guess that Kyrus was at work in his thoughts.

  When they reached the stream, Brannis heard a low whistle from behind him. He turned to see Tomas gazing in open awe at the sight.

  "We don't grow them like this at home," Tomas said. Brannis could see what he meant. The rock-lined rush of water was a work of divine artistry. Boulders within the water's flow caused swirls and eddies, and the rocks themselves glistened smooth with untold ages of polishing. The evening sun shone down between a break in the mountain range, casting the surface in reds and oranges, and shadows from the rocks. There was even a small waterfall, where a sudden shift in the stream bed's height caused a cascade of water to pool in a basin before it continued along on its flow.

  That pool was the ideal place for bathing, and the fresh wet trails leading from it told that the womenfolk had decided much the same. Tomas headed immediately for it and began stripping off his clothes. Brannis and Rakashi stood, not watching, but keeping one another in view, waiting.

  "You going to wash up?" Brannis asked.

  "Yes," Rakashi replied, but did not move. "Go on ahead, I will keep guard."

  "I think I'll just wait," Brannis replied. He turned and gave Rakashi a steady gaze. "We need to talk."

  "We do," Rakashi agreed. "I believe you have figured something out. You waited until the Acardians were safe, but you had your suspicions before."

  Brannis had to unclench his jaw to ask the question: "Why?"

  "Why what?" Rakashi asked. A taunting note in his tone told Brannis he already knew.

  "WHY DID YOU KILL IRIDAN?"

  Brannis's hand went for the hilt of Avalanche.

  Rakashi was faster. He hopped and kicked out, catching Brannis in the middle of his chest. The armor took most of the blow, and Brannis outweighed the smaller Rakashi by a half dozen gallons. Rakashi used the kick to buy himself a few paces space as he flew back. It was enough time to have his half-spear free of its sheath before Brannis could reach him.

  "So you admit it?" Brannis demanded, panting. All the time he had spent with Soria and her friends, and Iridan's killer was among them.

  "Yes," Rakashi answered, speaking with his blade poised between himself and Brannis.

  Brannis rushed at Rakashi, heedless of the deadly warrior's prowess, trusting in Liead's armor to protect him. Rakashi turned and ran, scrambling over the rocks along the stream bank. Brannis swatted at him with Avalan
che, but could not get him within reach. He lost his footing in the process, more intent on his opponent than on the uneven terrain and loose stones. Avalanche sent up a spray of broken rock as he sprawled.

  Rakashi's half-spear stabbed into his shoulder, as the Takalish warrior perched on a looming rock, but Brannis's armor shrugged off the blow. He took care with Avalanche as he regained his feet, then took a slash through the rock Rakashi had staked out as the high ground.

  Rakashi had already moved though, and Brannis's frustration was played out against a victim whose strategic importance had vanished. Brannis saw him standing a few paces on the far side of the boulder.

  "One of us is going to cause Soria tears tonight, I think," Rakashi observed.

  "You bastard!" Brannis swore, and picked his way through the rubble to close the distance to Rakashi, though not so heedlessly as before.

  Rakashi had a fist-sized rock in hand. He hurled it at Brannis as he approached. Brannis brought up an arm and warded it away.

  "We’re throwing rocks now?" Brannis scoffed. "Fine!" Brannis sent Avalanche on a sweeping arc through the stony stream bank. Rakashi ducked and turned away from the spray of rocks. Brannis noticed tiny flashes where they struck. "A shielding spell? Since when did you know how to cast those?"

  "I always have. It is not enough to stop your blade, but it is useful."

  Brannis rushed forward a few steps. Rakashi hopped back an equal distance.

  "You wanted this fight. You goaded me. Now you run?" Brannis asked. The reasoning part of his brain was struggling to make itself heard. He must have arranged this. I did not surprise him. He wanted me away from Soria, to keep her out of it. He must have a plan.

  "Run? I face a foe with magic the likes of which this world should never have seen. I am ten times the warrior you are. You wish me to fight your fight?"

  Brannis chased Rakashi downstream. Several times he had the Takalish warrior-scholar so close he could brush his war-braids with Avalanche, but Rakashi had Brannis's range well puzzled out.

  What is he hoping to accomplish? Is there a trap laid somewhere along here? When would he have laid it? I cannot fathom that he has arranged allies ahead. Soria claimed he was with Juliana on the other side.

  It struck Brannis at the same time as did the rocky shore. Brannis tripped on a rock he had not seen, as the twilight was robbing him of the ability to see his footing. Darkness. Brannis stood up, knowing that his time as hunter was drawing to a close. Rakashi's patched eye saw aether. It might not have been daylight, but Brannis's armor would shine like a beacon, as would Avalanche. Bereft of aether-vision, Brannis would be relying on moonlight soon.

  "Clever trap," Brannis said.

  "Clever weapon you have. Let us call them even," Rakashi replied. Brannis noted that he was no longer running.

  Rakashi's thrust his half-spear at him. Brannis had enough light still that he could see his way to parry. He expected to find Rakashi's weapon torn from his hands, but the subtle angle of its attack kept Avalanche from sweeping the blade clear. Instead, Rakashi's attack veered suddenly, glancing off Avalanche's unstoppable blade and driving into his stomach. By the time Brannis reversed his swing, Rakashi had already pulled his blade back.

  Brannis tried wider, sweeping parries that cut a swath in the air before him, hoping that any contact would either disarm Rakashi or sunder his blade from the force. Raksahi, for his part, kept his attacks to feints, forcing Brannis to react, but pulling short of each monstrous parry. When Brannis decided to ignore a feint and lunge, Rakashi scored a solid strike, square in the front of his breastplate. The Takalish warrior used the half-spear as a lever to propel himself back and out of reach, quickstepping away, ever sure of his footing in a way Brannis could not hope to be. He slipped once more, falling to his hands and knees. Rakashi's half-spear rang against his helm before he could swat at the pesky fighter and chase him back.

  Brannis was breathing hard. He could hear Rakashi as well. He had little hope that he would run Rakashi out of breath long enough to get away, or take advantage of slower feet to land even a glancing blow. One mistake. He only has one to give.

  Brannis knew he had to come up with something different. Rakashi had figured him out already—that much was clear. The stream bank had a clear view of the crescent moon, giving Brannis all the light he had to work with, but it gave Rakashi uneven footing to use as obstacles. Brannis was the prey now; he fled for the forest.

  Rakashi struck at his legs, but his armor persisted in turning the blows aside, and Rakashi was unable to trip him up. Brannis gained the tree line and found himself in a deeper darkness, but surrounded by obstacles that would hinder Rakashi as well, along with enough dry brush and fallen leaves to track his foe by sound.

  Rakashi followed him in, stabbing at the back of his armor. Brannis could feel the blows, but none harmed him. Brannis whirled and tried to catch Rakashi off guard with the Takalish warrior's momentum still toward Brannis. He caught air instead of a Takalishman, with a stray tree as collateral damage. Brannis ducked and raised an arm to ward off the falling trunk, unable to see which way it was falling. The only thing he felt was a slash to his arm.

  "Why?" Brannis asked between breaths. "Why are you doing this? You could have lied. You could have made an excuse."

  "I detest lying," Rakashi answered. "But not all truths need be spoken. You have a right of vengeance, even if I was a soldier, acting on orders in a war."

  "Right," Brannis replied. "It just happened to be you. Did you trick Soria into telling you how to fight Iridan?"

  "Yes," Rakashi admitted. "Just as I tricked you into attacking me, so I did not have to break my word to her. I like you Brannis, but I need to kill you."

  "Why?" Brannis asked again. Maybe I can reason with him. Maybe I can delay him long enough for Soria to hear that falling tree and come to see what happened.

  "You must know this: Rashan forces my hand. I kill you to save my people; that is the price he demands."

  "What? No!"

  "Yes," Rakashi insisted. "Your life, or all of Safschan. Even on the chance he is lying, I have to try. But he is the one who truly wants you dead, not I."

  Brannis growled and rushed Rakashi once more. He heard by voice where he was, and had caught a bit of silhouette to confirm. That was all he needed, and Brannis was off at a run. Rakashi dodged between trees and bolted for the stream once more. Brannis was once more the pursuer. He plowed trees out of his way with Avalanche, trying anything to gain ground on the fleeter fighter.

  But Rakashi beat him to the stream. Brannis was close behind, edging for the one step that would put Avalanche within reach of the traitor. Rakashi made to cross the stream, leaping from rock to rock in full stride. Brannis followed on his heels.

  Brannis slipped.

  He did not fall immediately, but caught his balance awkwardly on the last rock of the crossing, flailing his arms to keep from plunging into the water.

  Rakashi noticed this and halted his flight. The Takalish warrior spun, half-spear gripped by the end in one hand, swinging it about in a great arc. Brannis heard a grating metallic sound, but felt nothing. He regained his balance, and stepped across to the far bank.

  Something in the motion sent a searing pain across his stomach. He collapsed to the ground, falling to his side. Avalanche hung in the air, unwielded. Brannis's first thought was that he was unarmed, with a deadly foe at hand. His second was that it was likely too late already.

  He rolled to face the moonlight, and looked down at his stomach. Blood was seeping out through a rent in his armor, which was struggling to seal itself closed once more, the enchanted quicksilver damaged, but not beyond repair. Brannis wished he could say the same.

  "If you want vengeance," Rakashi said, "I will understand. Of course, none is more deserving of your vengeance than Rashan Solaran, the one who decreed your death."

  Rakashi lifted his half-spear overhead, ready to drive the blade through Brannis's weakened armor.

 
; "No!" the shriek of an anguished heart cried out.

  Rakashi twitched his blade to the side as a runed dagger flew at him with the force of a musket shot. The dagger glanced to the side, but another followed it. Taken from one of the dead brigands, it bore no runes. It shone like coal dust in the aether. Rakashi's one eye saw it, but he could not deflect it cleanly. The second dagger caught him hard in the shoulder, spraying blood before disappearing into the night.

  Rakashi set himself once more to strike, but he had not the time. Soria was on him in an instant, never having stopped her onrush to throw her daggers. Rakashi was beset, working his blade in a fury to keep Soria at bay.

  "Soria, please do not make me—"

  "Make you hurt me? You may as well have just killed me, you lying son of a whore!" Soria gave no ground, pressing Rakashi backward into the uneven stream. Rakashi parried her blows like he would a sword, flashes at impact showing her shielding spell protecting her from his runed blade.

  "Let me explain. We do not have to do this," Rakashi said.

  Soria paused in her futile attempt to break through Rakashi's expert defenses with her bare hands. She hopped, turned back, and grabbed Avalanche from where it hung.

  "Soria, no!" Rakashi's eye went wide, and he turned to run.

  Brannis was no match for Rakashi in a foot race. Soria, on the other hand, Rakashi had no hope of escaping. Sped by aether and her Tezuan training to use it, she caught Rakashi after only a few steps. He turned, and tried to dodge the blow, but like its namesake, there was nothing that could stop an Avalanche that had you dead in its path. Rakashi's half-spear was driven down and through its owner as Soria cleaved him in half.

  She stood over him just a moment, the moment it took for the fact of his death to register in her mind.