Shadows in the Stone

by Diane Lynn McGyver

  Chapter 35

  Blade and Magic

  As the night ended and the dawn broke, Bronwyn lay awake thinking about what Alaura had said. She considered him her best friend. What did this mean exactly? His dad had said best friends turned out to be life mates. If he applied this logic, she deemed him her mate, but she didn’t have the benefit of Gavin’s knowledge. He thought about the rest of what his dad had said: You have to match your best friend then you became life mates. He didn’t match Alaura at all.

  She obviously thought this, too. It had to be the reason she considered them to be merely friends. It didn’t matter to Bronwyn that they came from different worlds, excelled in different crafts and were different races. If only she could put aside these differences. She knew he loved Isla as any das loved a child. Her race didn’t matter.

  After waking, Bronwyn spoke only the usual courtesies accompanied with morning activities. Alaura showed no desire to carry on a conversation, and that contented him. He had nothing to say.

  He released a tired sigh, realising that only a few short weeks ago he had felt satisfied with life. If Keiron hadn’t shown up, the perfect life would still be his. He shook his head. There seemed to be no logical reason why the thief returned for Isla. What did a man like him want with a twelve-year-old girl on The Trail?

  Bronwyn thought back to when his daughter had entered his life. Prophecy rumours ran wild, and Catriona had insisted they involved Isla. But the prophecy held no more truth than legend or myth! He pushed the idea from his thoughts and tried to focus on the path ahead.

  They had travelled through dense forest for over an hour at Clover’s top speed. For the next thirty minutes, Alaura cooled her out, allowed the mare to amble at a slow speed to recoup her breath.

  The vegetation’s moisture filled Bronwyn’s senses, and he admired the vibrant greens of the lush foliage surrounding them. The long slender trunks of the oak, maple and birch trees reached into the sky, their leaves searching for light. They created a thick canopy over the forest floor where ferns, leafy flowers, moss and fiddleheads grew. If he was passing through for some other reason, he might stop and admire the beauty. Instead, a gnawing feeling in his stomach pressed him to pose the question he wanted to ask for a long time.

  He cleared his throat. “Alaura, I’ve been thinking.” Her muscles tightened as if she anticipated a dreaded question. He leant his chin against her shoulder and asked, “Why do you think Keiron took Isla?” He felt her relax.

  “I’m not exactly sure. I have a few ideas, but…”

  “But what?”

  “I’m probably wrong.”

  “Tell me. We can be wrong together if we’re thinking the same.”

  “I think…”—she glanced back at him—“but I’m not sure—it has to do with the prophecy.”

  Bronwyn’s fears proved correct. If the prophecy held a shred of verity, one detail didn’t fit: the foretelling called for a pair of hauflin siblings.

  In his mind, he recited the mysterious message: It is said, Hauflin kin and company shall defeat the menace to Aruam and her subjects. With blade and magic, they’ll cool the winds and fire the blood, and four shall live as one.

  Isla had no kin. Or did she? “Alaura, you attended Isla’s birth. Did Maura deliver a second child that night?” He waited for an answer, but she didn’t appear to want to give one. “I have a right to know.”

  Alaura took the reins in her right hand and slipped the other into his, pressing their palms together. He felt the warmth of her touch but sensed more. He thought he heard her voice. She looked around and stared into his eyes as she squeezed their palms together.

  Yes.

  The word hadn’t come from her mouth. Instead she delivered it through her hand like the bog berry. He looked at her queerly. He thought she said more and listened intently.

  But we must not speak of it.

  “Why?” he said in cant. Her ability to communicate through her hand surprised him, but the secret she kept from him all these years made him angry. She should have told him then he could have safeguarded Isla.

  Her voice broadcasted louder, as if she learnt how to channel it better. It’s for Isla’s protection. Only a handful of people know.

  “But I’m her das.” He felt certain his words came from his mouth, but he sensed they also went through his hand. Alaura gave him strange look. Does she have a brother or a sister? He didn’t speak it this time, but thought of his words travelling through his hand and into her blood.

  A brother, she said slowly, studying him in silence.

  What? You started this.

  A smile teased the corner of her mouth, and her eyes sparkled. He’s amazing. Absolutely incredible! I’d never have guessed he could work the Transfer Spell like this. I wonder what else he can do. If only he’d stop staring at me with those playful eyes, I’d be able to think clearer. Even with his face cut and bruised he’s darn distracting.

  Thanks. You’re incredibly distracting yourself.

  A look of shock appeared on her face, and he felt her panic. What’s wrong?

  You can…No!…Stop! She pulled her hand free. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “Why?” Bronwyn wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled himself closer in the saddle. “Shouldn’t best friends share their thoughts?” Alaura slapped him, more in play than as a reprimand. He pressed his cheek against her back and breathed in a lung full of her enchanting scent. He felt her wriggle, as if she replayed what she had thought and transferred to him. She considered him amazing, incredible and darn distracting. Interesting, she’d think this of a best friend. He grinned. She grew warm, and she halted the pony.

  “We should give Clover a break. We can still walk, but she’s carried us a good distance. Dismount, please.”

  He slid from the saddle and stood near to catch her though he knew she could manage on her own. She shoved him away. “You can lead.”

  “Sure…if I’m that incredibly distracting.” He gave a mischievous smile and walked past her. He heard her grumble, and when he glanced back, her face flushed. It felt good to be the one confident in their relationship…if only for a moment. He picked up the trail and heard Alaura and Clover follow. The breeze blowing their scent into his nose let him know their distance behind him. The horse stank, but Alaura…well…she smelt like Alaura.

  Bronwyn marched through the underbrush, easily following the trail cut by the three horses. The strides measured shorter than when they travelled in the open. Keiron probably thought he had all the time in the world, since he believed Bronwyn to be dead.

  A few minutes later, he stopped and surveyed the area in front of him. Several bushes, ferns and wildflowers lay crushed from the weight of a creature or creatures. Whoever had passed through had turned the otherwise peacefully setting into a jumbled mess. Scanning the ground in front of him, his eye caught sight of an unusual stick. When he pulled it from the leafy bush, he realised it to be an arrow.

  “There’s blood on it.” Alaura looked around for more clues.

  “But whose?” He studied the foot and a half long projectile. It came from a short bow, similar to the type issued at the castle but crude and cheap. Blood covered the steel tip.

  “Bronwyn.” She motioned him to a flattened area near the bushes. “A person, possibly the one struck with the arrow, lay here.” She pointed at dark marks on the branches and leaves. “They lost a lot of blood.” Their eyes met, and she added. “A larger being, an adult dwarf, probably, or a medium-size human created this depression, not Isla.”

  “Tam or a stranger.”

  “The healing herbs surrounding the impression are lopped off; several are torn from the ground. I think Isla used these herbs to heal someone.”

  “Maybe Tam? I can’t see her helping Keiron or the gnome.”

  “Unless forced to.” Alaura put her hand on his shoulder. “But without her telling them of her knowledge with herbal medicine, they wouldn’t know.”

  “I hope it
’s not Tam.” Bronwyn looked around. “He’s the only one she trusts.” He followed the path, looking for the source of the scuffle. He stopped when he saw two more sets of hoof prints. These horses came from the opposite direction, towards Keiron and his group. He walked further. The horses went off into the trees, but Keiron and the others continued along, going where the others had come.

  “Bronwyn!” Alaura’s voice sounded urgent but not frightened. She stood about thirty feet off the path.

  He ran back to her and looked to where she pointed on the ground. The remains of a being mixed with twigs and torn-up moss. The bones had been stripped of flesh. He grabbed a stick and moved the clothing around. The blood-soaked, light brown shirt did not appear to be the same Tam had worn. Or Keiron for that matter.

  “Oh my.” She leant away. “The smell is vile.”

  He dragged a black chunk of leather from the bush and held it up at the end of the stick. “What size boot do you think this is? Too small for a dwarf…perfect for a hauflin?” He watched her grimace as she studied it.

  “I agree.” She lifted the edge of her cloak over her mouth.

  He drew her under his arm, hiding her face in his neck. He poked at another piece of clothing, the remains of a belt, perhaps. The stick flicked the object into her leg.

  “Ahh!” She jerked herself from his embrace, half shoving him as she sped away. “I can’t stay. The smell is making me ill.”

  What would be the luck these remains belonged to Keiron? Bronwyn thought as he followed Alaura back to Clover.

  She grasped the pony by the hackamore bridle and yanked it along. “There’s nothing here but the smell of death. Worse than death. It’s evil death. Vulgar! It makes my head swoon.”

  “Did magic kill that person in the bush?” He watched as she stumbled in an attempt to escape the area.

  “Not sure. Let’s just go.” She accepted his arm to guide her away from the scene. After a few minutes, she eased her hand from his grip. “I’ll be fine now. The fresh air is clearing my head. Thank you.”

  “Does evil magic always affect you like this? You became ill like the night in my quarters when you tended to Isla.”

  For a moment, Alaura seemed lost in thought. “I think you’re right.” She paused and her fingers climbed the air in front of her as if walking up invisible steps. “Strange. Why is the foul castle air found here?”

  Bronwyn shrugged. “It smells similar, but not exactly. The smell doesn’t affect me like it does you. In Maskil, we have grown accustomed to the stench of heat.”

  She didn’t appear convinced but accepted the answer.

  He turned and led the way down the trail. He glanced back at her. “You’re sure you’re fine?”

  “It’s as if I didn’t feel ill to begin with.”

  He returned his attention to the path. Alaura was different in many ways. These ways had rubbed off on Isla, making his daughter more like her as time passed. Not only did Isla look for the good in others, but she knew plants and healing ways unknown to him. Not that he minded. Her teachings had made Isla wise, more capable than many children her age. Isla needed it now. He wondered if other mysterious connections existed between the females. Both had become ill from the strange odour. Did it have to do with their hauflin blood?

  When he passed an aged oak, he felt a great force drive him to the ground. The unidentified weight knocked the wind from his lungs, making it impossible to yell a warning. Blackness, flashes of red light and shadows blurred his vision as he rolled across the forest floor with an animal on top of him. He felt his sword twist beneath him and the hilt dig into his side. The rush of wind and his head hitting against the earth blocked his ears, but when he finally came to a stop, he heard Alaura shouting.

  Sharp claws ripped at his sides, and Bronwyn struggled to punch the creature who tackled him. When his eyes came into focus and he managed a look at the beast, he recoiled in horror. The orc’s curse! What the heck was it? The man-like creature straddled him. He felt it slump forward as if struck from behind. Seeing his chance, he slugged its face several times with his fist then kneed it in the groin. It seemed to lose strength, and he grabbed for his dagger to finish it off.

  But instead of weakening, the creature pounced on Bronwyn’s neck, and with thick scaly fingers attempted to squeeze the life from him. A splat of thick yellow liquid landed on his cheek. It dripped from the creature’s mouth and nasal cavity. Another drop landed near his lip and oozed into his mouth. It tasted warm and salty. He tried to spit it out. When another drop landed directly on his tongue, he gagged. More determined than ever, Bronwyn wriggled and threw one punch after another into the side of the creature’s head, but nothing seemed to inflict damage. Bronwyn lifted his butt off the ground and tried to buck it off, but it only added weight on his neck.

  The creature screeched in pain and released its hold. Its yellow eyes flashed at Bronwyn. It snarled, parted its lips and revealed a large pincer emerging from each side of its jaw. As it prepared to lunge forward, a brilliant flash erupted from behind. It shrieked in agony. It swayed from side to side before it slumped headfirst, its full weight falling upon the dwarf and its large pincers digging into the ground, one on either side of his neck. The thick yellow fluid oozed onto his skin.

  Bronwyn didn’t dare move. He believed the creature to be dead, but the sharp pincers would slice his neck if he tried to slither away. A foreign odour filled his air passages. The smell stung the inside of his nose and stole his breath. He’d fall unconscious if he didn’t escape soon. In a cautious voice, he called out.

  Kneeling beside him, Alaura grasped a pincer in each hand then gave a firm tug. They came out of the ground, and she removed them to a safe distance before shoving the creature away. She saw blood on the outside of his shirt and lifted it to see the wounds. “I’ll get the healing kit.”

  Bronwyn lay back in the soft moss to catch his breath. He glanced at the ugly creature beside him. It looked like nothing he’d seen before. He spit the salty taste from his mouth and dragged his shirt sleeve over his lips. “Do you know what it is?”

  “A troglodyte.” She took a damp rag and wiped the blood from his side.

  “No wonder they’re stuff of nightmares. They’re uglier than the stories tell.” He whimpered from the sting of the cleansing solution entering the wounds.

  “I’m sure he’s quite a handsome fellow to his mate.” She pulled strips of dressing from the sack and laid them against his skin.

  “His face is one only a mum could love.” Bronwyn looked up to find her watching him. “And a mate, I suppose.” He relaxed as she finished bandaging his side.

  He didn’t like to admit it, but he felt fortunate to have Alaura with him. What he didn’t know, she did, and vice versa. When he needed help, she provided it, and when she required assistance, he eagerly gave. He thought back to the many times she had helped him over the years. Although Bronwyn had seldom asked her for assistance, she often completed a task for him then acted as if she had done nothing. From mending his jacket when he had torn it on a hiking trip with Isla to surprising him with new curtains for his quarters, Alaura had made his life easier without need or want of recognition or compensation. He smiled more since he had met her. His life had become richer with her in it. “We make a good pair, don’t we?”

  Alaura looked up, but hesitated to answer.

  “I mean, we make a good travelling pair.”

  “We do. Our individual skills complement each other.” She took a second damp cloth and wiped the yellow ooze from his face and neck. She stood and helped him to his feet.

  Bronwyn watched her walk towards Clover. “Alaura.” She turned to look at him. A strand of hair fell across her face, and she pushed it aside. “I’ve assigned ranks to my friends, like you have.”

  She eyed him with curiosity. “And?”

  “And, I’ve figured out who is my captain of the guard.” He gazed at her as she waited for his answer. “You are.” Her smiled pleased him. �
�Best friends?” He held up his hand as if in a swearing-in motion.

  She put her hand over her mouth, but didn’t suppress the laugh. He glanced at his palm, saw the red bog berry stain and grinned. “We need only the pebbles to complete my answer.”

  Alaura threw her arms around his neck and gave a great hug. He drew her near, wishing to keep her there, but in an instant, she pulled away. She remained smiling as she lifted her hand to his. When their fingers intertwined, he heard, Best friends.