Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road

by Jaleigh Johnson

  Ilvani shoved the dead woman away from her and fell off the window ledge. When she opened her eyes, she was in her bed. She got up quickly and looked around. She even climbed the ladder to look out her window, but she was alone in the room.

  Except for the symbols that still burned behind her eyes. She had to get rid of them. Her trembling hands sought her knife from the table beside her bed, but it wasn’t there. She tried to remember what had happened to it. Oh yes. It was out on the Shadowfell plain. Ashok took it from her. He’d told her not to hurt herself.

  She looked down at the bandages on her arms. Her fingernails grazed the stiff material, and it took every ounce of her strength not to tear the bandages away, to carve the symbols into her arms with her bare hands. Put them anywhere but behind her eyes, eating away at her thoughts.…

  No, and then, aloud, “No.” Saying the word made her resolve real, gave it power, even if her voice was a feeble whisper. “No.” The halfling had tended her wounds. She’d been kind. It was wrong to repay that kindness with blood.

  Ilvani remembered her time at Darnae’s shop better than she remembered the shadows in her boxes. She wished she could go back there, but she didn’t know the way. That wasn’t her place, anyway. Her place was moving, she was moving, and she couldn’t stop the current from carrying her away.

  She went back to bed, even though she knew she would not sleep.

  The night before the caravan was to leave for Faerûn, Ashok, Skagi, and Cree—released finally from his prison at Tower Makthar—walked out to the training yard for Olra’s funeral.

  Later, there would be celebrating and fierce dancing to see them off on their long journey, but Uwan had declared this hour the time to honor the head of the Camborrs.

  Magic shrouded the lights of Tower Athanon and the surrounding area. The gathered warriors were indistinct shadows, but Ashok made out Uwan, Neimal, and the other Sworn standing near the fence. Guardians, new recruits, and Camborrs stood side by side in silence.

  Then, out of the tower came a solemn procession. Six shadar-kai carried a wooden bier between them, three to a side. Olra’s body lay upon it, her form covered from head to foot in white cloth.

  Skagi had explained the ritual to him. In Ikemmu, the shadar-kai did not look upon the faces of their dead during the funerary rites. To do so was to glorify the shell, the soulless frame that no longer held the essence of the warrior. Instead, they prayed aloud, using their voices to propel her spirit to the realm of her god. Ashok heard them now, each shadar-kai in the crowd murmuring in a low undertone his or her own private prayer. In this breath, the religions of Ikemmu were truly equal—no matter which god they prayed to, the gathered crowd spoke for Olra’s soul.

  Ashok found he had trouble remembering how his old enclave had honored their dead, if they had done so at all.

  Behind the procession walked more shadar-kai. Ashok recognized the forge masters. They wore dark robes and carried swords in their hands, the points facing down toward the ground.

  Tempus’s symbol, the swords were works of art, breathtaking and deadly. Kerthta came last. She carried a sword and Olra’s barbed whip clasped together in her hands. The whip still bore the blood of the snake. She wore no expression of grief and stood stoically when those in the procession halted and placed their burden on an unlit pyre in the center of the training yard. Then the six bearers turned and formed a line at the head of the bier.

  The forge masters spread out to form a loose circle around the pyre. They turned the sword hilts so the blades pierced the sky. Kerthta approached the body and placed the whip and sword together across Olra’s breast.

  The Watching Blade himself came forward then, bearing a lit torch, its flame surrounded by black spikes like a steel flower unfurling. He handed the torch to Kerthta.

  “In the halls of Warriors’ Rest, Olra waits for us,” Uwan said. His voice carried over the crowd. “Tonight all shadar-kai of Ikemmu celebrate the passage of the soul,” Uwan said. “In life, we struggle always to bind spirit to flesh, to deny the lurking shadows their claim on our souls. Olra won her battle, and now her god Tempus calls her home.”

  Ashok felt the tension in the air when Uwan spoke these words. The gathered crowd knew that Olra had worshiped Tempus; their leader’s words were appropriate, but they couldn’t fail to hear the fervor in Uwan’s voice when he spoke of the warrior god. Uwan might change Ikemmu’s laws to accommodate other religions, but it was clear the leader still personally favored Tempus’s children. Silently, Ashok cursed Uwan for a fool. The city would never stand united while its leader valued Tempus above all.

  “Tonight we celebrate, for Olra’s soul has found rest and peace at last,” Uwan said. “The rest of us struggle on, and by the gods’ will, we will join her someday, when our time comes.”

  The prayers of the crowd wound down, and Kerthta stepped forward to light the funeral pyre. Ashok saw Neimal make a gesture, and the flames glowed blue-white and soared high toward the cavern ceiling. They consumed Olra’s body and illuminated the faces of the watching shadar-kai. The forge master, Olra’s lover, looked on and, by the light of the pyre, Ashok saw the grief break through, not in her face, but in the way she reached up to clasp her arm where the snake had bitten her.

  Then it was over. The blaze gradually burned down to a few small fires as the crowd began to disperse. Ashok briefly considered approaching Kerthta, who hadn’t moved from her place at Olra’s pyre, but he decided against it. The moment was hers. He would not intrude.

  He couldn’t change the past. All he could do was look ahead to the morrow. Ilvani had told him once to value his friends and to keep them safe. Ashok would do all he could to help Ilvani, as she had once helped him.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  AT THE MONRIL BELL, ASHOK, SKAGI, AND CREE WERE AWAKE, dressed, and ready. Ashok promised to meet the brothers at the caravan staging area. He made a brief stop to say goodbye to Darnae because the halfling had asked it of him, and then he went on to Ilvani’s chambers to see if the witch wanted an escort through the Veil that separated the two halves of the city.

  He knocked on her chamber door but got no answer, and he sensed no life within the room. She was already gone. Ashok felt a brief disappointment, but then he moved on to the Camborr pens.

  The nightmare stood in his cage, his nose against the iron bars. Though Neimal’s spell made the beast appear in the guise of a common stallion, there was no disguising the intense beauty of the creature or the hatred in his eyes.

  Ashok removed the lock and swung open the cage door. “You knew I wouldn’t leave you here,” he said. “You know I’ll give you the blood you crave.”

  The nightmare came out of the cage and walked up to Ashok. He felt the beast’s warmth, an unnatural heat that filled the small space. Anyone standing nearby would be able to tell something was wrong with Ashok’s “horse.” He would have to remember that and keep others away.

  Ashok led the nightmare through the city, and together they walked through the portal to the Underdark side of Ikemmu.

  A strange mirror to the Shadowfell, this city had long been dominated by the trader races and by extension was more hospitable to outsiders and the comforts they sought. The towers were much the same, but the stone buildings below were newer and softer around the edges than the burned-out ruins on the Shadowfell side. The population here was more numerous, which made Ashok uncomfortable. It seemed to him he was constantly elbowing through a crowd.

  The caravan mustering ground was a large open space near Tower Hevalor—Ashok wondered if the names were the same on this side. He’d never thought to ask Skagi or Cree about this.

  He saw the brothers standing with a group of humans and shadar-kai. The group checked tack and wagons and prepared to harness the horses for a procession through the portal. Ashok was vaguely surprised to see Tuva and Vlahna among the shadar-kai.

  Skagi and Cree waved him over, and Tuva nodded when he saw him.

  “Tat
igan’s up front with the other merchants,” Skagi said, and added, “Caravan’s bigger than I expected.”

  “Tuva and Vlahna have led caravan missions in Faerûn, or so I heard,” Cree said. “Uwan put them in charge of all the guards, including the humans.”

  Ashok noticed that Cree, true to his word, had been to the inker sometime after Olra’s funeral. A serpentine tattoo with delicate black scales curved around his cheekbone and across his closed left eyelid, which was heavily scarred and had no lashes. The tattoo ended in a snake’s head just above his left eyebrow.

  “Have you seen Ilvani?” Ashok asked. “I went to her chambers, but she’d already left.”

  Skagi looked around and pointed. “She’s there, talking to Daruk.”

  Ashok followed his gaze and saw a dark-skinned human in breeches and a deep gray tunic. He smiled when he spoke to Ilvani, but the witch’s face was impassive.

  “Who is he?” Ashok asked.

  “He’s my bard.”

  They turned and saw Tatigan. The merchant spoke to two of the human guards and sent them off to stow extra gear in the wagons. Then he took off his spectacles and cleaned them on his sleeve. His eyes were bright with anticipation.

  “You travel with your own bard?” Cree said.

  “No wonder the caravan’s so big, if he brings all the home comforts with him.” Skagi snickered.

  “Oh yes, Daruk went on several caravan runs with me, back when I operated alone,” Tatigan said. “When I formed this little coster operation, he was the first one I asked along on the journey. I think you’ll find him interesting, perhaps even helpful, company. In fact, this whole venture promises to be very interesting. I simply hope I have enough parchment to record it all.”

  Tatigan walked away, grinning.

  Ashok watched the other shadar-kai as they formed the horses and wagons up into a line. He counted six of them, and though the human guards far outnumbered them, the shadar-kai warriors looked seasoned and deadly.

  The caravan lined up to move two abreast and eleven deep, with guards at various points on all sides. Vlahna determined guard placements and ordered everyone to their positions so she could survey how secure the caravan would be and if there were any weak points. She kept the six shadar-kai together in one group and ordered them to the front. Ashok, Cree, and Skagi she sent to guard their backs. Ilvani would ride in the rear wagon as spell support if necessary.

  Ashok saw a shadar-kai cleric among the contingent at the front, and a human cleric of Tymora rode in one of the wagons. Tuva and Vlahna took up roving positions on either side of the caravan.

  “What of these shadar-kai guards?” Ashok said to the brothers as they went to their posts. “Do you know them?”

  “Not by name. Sellswords,” Skagi said, with an edge of distaste.

  “How many of them?”

  “All six, as far as we know,” Cree said. “They’re all affiliated either with Tatigan or one of the other merchants.”

  “Why didn’t they join the military when Uwan lifted the ban?” Ashok said.

  “I don’t know, but they’re not the only ones,” Cree said. “There’s an entire faction of shadar-kai who kept their old professions. I heard rumors Uwan’s decision caused a stir among some of the merchants. Lifting the ban on military service caused them to lose some of their best warriors, and they had to offer the rest more coin as an incentive to stay.”

  “More coin’s one thing, but they can’t feel too kindly toward us that used to call them Blites, either,” Skagi said.

  “Some still do,” Cree said, with a pointed glance at his brother. Ashok nodded. It made sense. He’d been naïve to assume that all shadar-kai would want the honor of service to Ikemmu, that they would willingly go where they hadn’t been welcome before and where they might still be scorned. The city had a long, delicate road ahead.

  “Eyes to the front!” Tuva called to the gathered crew. “We’re breaths away from the Diteen bell, and that’s the signal to move out. I want no stragglers through the portal. Remember, departing caravans use this location on every run, so ambushers know exactly where to lie in wait for us. When we go through, we’re vulnerable, so I want weapons out and eyes on the hills. For those of you just joining us on this little parade”—he shot a glance at Ashok, Skagi, and Cree—“the place where we’re coming out has low hills for a mile or so; then it’s flat country along the Clearflow River to the north. The good news is that means we’ll have fresh water and game to hunt, so we won’t have to eat into our supplies. The bad news is that it’s open ground, and with winter coming on fast, we’ll have bitterly cold days and nights that’ll make you wish you were back fighting the dust storms on the Shadowfell. But make no mistake, friends, this is the easiest part of the journey.” Tuva smiled, exposing a gap between his two front teeth. “Once we join up with the Golden Way and head for the Sunrise Mountains, things are going to get a lot more interesting.”

  Ilvani came to join them. She wore a heavy black dress and her cloak with its drape of chains. Her green pouch hung at her waist as usual, and she carried an extra pack on her back. She climbed into the back of the wagon and sat down. Ashok tried to catch her eye, but she didn’t acknowledge him.

  “Greetings, Ilvani,” he said. “Are you ready for the journey?”

  She looked up at him. Her eyes were still heavy with fatigue. He could see the bandages poking out of the sleeves of her dress. Ashok hoped she hadn’t added any new wounds since he’d seen her last.

  “She died again last night,” Ilvani said. “The storm turned her into a living corpse. I can’t get the smell out of my room.”

  “You had another dream?” Ashok said.

  She looked away. It was answer enough.

  “We’ll fix it,” Ashok said. He put as much confidence as he could into the words.

  Tatigan and Tuva were speaking at the front of the pack. Ashok saw four others with him: a human man and woman who stood close together, a dwarf with black hair and beard braided through with streaks of gray, and a human man who stood a little apart.

  These must be the other merchants, though the young human didn’t look old enough or confident enough to be master of anything, Ashok mused. His gaze darted between Tuva and Tatigan, as if he didn’t know what to make of either the grizzled shadar-kai warrior or the eccentric merchant. The man and woman beckoned to him then, and the young one went to join them. When they stood together, Ashok saw a resemblance among the three that marked them as one family. The young man had his father’s stance and slenderness, but he had his mother’s deep brown hair and eyes. Tatigan turned then and spoke to the family, and they listened attentively.

  The dwarf, as far as Ashok could see, stayed silent through the whole conference. Though he appeared to pay attention to the proceedings, he kept shooting glances at the horse and wagon preparations. Once or twice, he went to help the guards by separating two incompatible horses or helping tie down crates and barrels that weren’t quite secure in the back of the high-walled wagons.

  A veteran, Ashok thought in approval. Tatigan’s coster may have been a new arrangement, but there were people on board who knew what they were doing. That was a hopeful sign for their success.

  “He’s right about the portal,” Cree said. “I overheard some of the humans talking—a group of them paid for passage with the caravan beyond Rashemen—about the portal being in one spot for too long. Bandits are leaving their scouts in the hills to watch for caravans from the Underdark. They know the wagons will be fully stocked, so when one comes through, they send word to their fellows to set up an ambush.”

  “What about guards on the other side of the portal?” Ashok said.

  “We have them,” Cree said, “but secrecy is a more effective weapon, according to them. I agree.”

  “I’ve heard worse tales,” Skagi said. “Wagons snatched as soon as they come out of the portal. They kill the guards, drovers, and steer the horses into the hills before anyone can get his breeches in o
rder.”

  As Skagi spoke, Vlahna passed near them on her horse. She rode bareback and had a shortbow slung over her shoulder in addition to the chain wrapped around her arm. “You won’t have to fear that happening with Tuva,” she said. “He’ll pose as drover on the lead wagon and make any attacker pay a steep price if they want to make off with it.”

  “No matter what we do, we’ll have to fight off our share of bandits,” Ashok said. Looking at the three shadar-kai, he could tell that none was about to complain. An eventful journey was a successful journey, in their eyes, for it meant they never had to worry about fading into oblivion.

  Vlahna sidled her horse closer to Ashok’s mount. He saw her animal’s nostrils flare, then it tossed its head as if it smelled something unnatural. Ashok tensed, half expecting it to cry an alarm, but the horse just edged away.

  Vlahna laughed. “I guess she doesn’t like you,” she said, addressing the disguised nightmare. “Can’t imagine why—you’re stunning.” She put out a hand to pat the horse’s neck, but Ashok pulled on his reins to draw the stallion out of reach. Vlahna looked at him questioningly.

  “He doesn’t like anyone,” Ashok said.

  “Except you?”

  “No, he especially hates me,” Ashok said. “But we have an understanding.”

  She laughed again, spurred her horse with her knees, and rode away. Ashok saw Skagi and Cree watch her go. At the front of the line, Tatigan and Tuva had finished their conference with the other merchants and were taking their places in the wagons.

  “Prepare to move out!” Vlahna called to the assembly. “All of you, mind your horses and weapons, keep your eyes open, and—above all—keep to your stations. Tymora give us all a kiss and a smile.”

  With those words, she took her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow. Ashok readied his chain, and the brothers fell in beside him on their horses. The rest of the caravan either rode on horseback or took cover in the wagons. Ashok noted with interest the tension in the body language of the other races, and the relaxed, almost playful atmosphere among the shadar-kai—all except Ilvani. The witch sat with a vacant expression.