Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road

by Jaleigh Johnson

  Skagi leaned over. “A kiss and a smile? Is she offering, do you think?”

  Ashok and Cree laughed. “You’re not getting either,” Cree said.

  “Well, what do you think, pup? Are you ready to taste Faerûnian air?” Skagi slapped Ashok on the shoulder.

  Ashok glanced at Ilvani. She met his gaze and said, “I put on my boots.”

  “I suppose that’s something,” Ashok said. “Let’s go.”

  As he passed through the portal, Ashok looked up and saw the gray, cloud-heavy sky. His first feeling on seeing a sky so similar to that of the Shadowfell was one of intense disappointment.

  I was looking for the sunlight, Ashok thought. Darnae had once described to him how the heat of highsun in the city where she was born had scorched her skin and caused bright orange spots to burst in front of her eyes. But that was during the summer months, and Ashok knew they were too far north to feel that kind of heat at any point during their journey.

  He returned his attention to the caravan and heard the twang of the first crossbow bolt just before it hit the side of a wagon. The second bolt caught Ashok in the shoulder and knocked him off the nightmare’s back.

  He fell on his shoulder, but the impact left him more surprised than hurt. When he got his breath, he found himself staring at a clump of grass and a strange, three-leafed weed growing from the earth. Ashok cursed himself. He let his attention wander for a breath, and the ambush caught him completely off guard.

  Shouts went up among the caravan. Vlahna and the six shadar-kai riders broke away from the others and charged up the low hills. From his vantage, Ashok couldn’t see how many attackers they pursued. He looked for Ilvani and saw the top of her pale red head just above the wagon wall. At least she’d had the sense to take cover. He wished he could say as much. Sighing, Ashok rolled onto his back and yanked out the crossbow bolt.

  Cree jumped off his horse and came to Ashok’s side. “Are you all right?”

  Ashok threw away the bolt in disgust. There was no blood on it. “I’m fine. It didn’t even penetrate my armor.”

  “Aren’t we going after them?” Skagi wheeled his horse around, kicking up dirt and grass. “Those other Blites can’t have all the fun!”

  “They won’t catch them,” Ashok said. “These were just insect stings. If it was a real ambush, they would have aimed for the horses first.”

  “He’s right.” Tuva weaved through the wagons, checking the beasts and arranging the drovers in a defensive formation. “There were only three of them. They were testing our reaction.”

  “Maybe the sellswords will make them think better of trying a real ambush,” Cree said.

  “Or more likely they’ll simply return in greater numbers,” Ashok said.

  “You in one piece?” Tuva asked him.

  Ashok nodded. As the leader walked away, Ashok put his hands against the ground to lever himself up. He stopped when he felt the grass beneath his palms. He pulled off his gloves.

  Green blades, tinged with brown from the first frosts, were spongy and soft, very different from the sparse, brittle vegetation of the Shadowfell plains. He felt moisture beneath them, and a rich, earthy smell drifted up.

  The air, too, held a great deal more moisture than the Shadowfell. It had rained on this spot, or maybe snowed, very recently. Ashok looked around at the hills and low-hanging clouds and became aware of other striking differences between his home and this new world.

  Colors.

  Some of the clouds were dark blue around the edges, and a variegated mist hung over the horizon. Rain in the distance—he smelled it in the air. It would reach the caravan before nightfall. The grass swayed and bent in the wind. The subtle movement had a hypnotic quality—as if the land itself were alive and aware of their presence. The rustle of the wind through the grass was different from the sound of its hissing over barren, eroded soil. A glance at the horizon revealed nothing to confuse the sky with the ground. They were different entities, but Ashok still felt disoriented. He couldn’t quite find his balance—he didn’t know where to rest his gaze. Everything moved, and so everything could be a waiting threat. Seen in that light, Ashok felt uneasy for the first time.

  “You sure you didn’t crack open your skull?” Skagi asked him.

  “I’m fine,” Ashok said.

  The big man scratched his chin. “Good, then. You think you might get up to join us, or should we pick you up on the way back from Rashemen?”

  Ashok blinked. He felt as though he’d just come out of a trance. Distantly, he heard Tuva order everyone back to his or her place. They were moving out again, and Ashok was still sitting in the grass. He stood up.

  At last, he was in Faerûn.

  Vlahna led them from the entry point to the banks of the Clearflow. The river, she said, was to be their constant companion until they joined the Golden Way. It rushed along over rocks and through stands of weeds. The shallows often had a skin of ice over them.

  Up and down the line of wagons, Ashok saw breath fogs and people huddling under their cloaks. The more they traveled in this climate, the more they would grow accustomed to it, but the sudden shock of the open cold stiffened everyone’s movements. It would get worse the longer they were on the road that day.

  Despite the frigid air and their initial stumble, the caravan moved along at a steady pace for two miles until the sound of hoofbeats from the east made Tuva call a halt. Ashok and the brothers rode up their flank to support a defense, but everyone relaxed when they saw it was the shadar-kai party returned from hunting the ambushers.

  “What news, Kaibeth?” Tuva said.

  A woman with short, yellowish hair and a tattoo of a spider clutching her shoulder spoke up. “We lost them in the hills. The terrain became too rough for the horses, but the bandits knew their path. Wherever they went had to be underground.”

  “There can’t be many of them,” said another of the sellswords. He had an ugly set of burn scars that covered his right cheek. “Unless they’ve tunneled under the whole countryside.”

  “It’s probably an outpost. They’ll wait for cover of dark and ride off to warn their larger force,” Kaibeth said.

  “Agreed,” Tuva said. “Nothing to do now but wait for them. Back to your places, you six. The rest of you, this isn’t a pleasure ride. We move forward.”

  The group broke up. Ashok saw Kaibeth watching him. She smirked when she rode by.

  “Hope you didn’t bruise your backside falling off that horse,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an emissary of Tempus felled by a cheap crossbow bolt.”

  Ashok stared back at her and said nothing. He saw that she wore the symbol of Beshaba, goddess of misfortune, as a tattoo on her neck. The others in her group laughed as they returned to the front of the line. Ashok paid no attention. He should have known how it would be with the sellswords. To them, he was still Ikemmu’s champion, higher in rank and favor.

  Beshaba had been Vedoran’s adopted goddess. He’d worshiped misfortune—or at least had given the appearance of worshiping it—until the day Ashok killed him.

  Ashok had not witnessed Vedoran’s funeral rites. He’d been too weak from his tenday in the dark to see how the city bade farewell to the warrior. Had Uwan spoken on Vedoran’s behalf, coaxed his soul on to Beshaba’s realm? Something inside Ashok told him the leader would have prayed for Vedoran—whereas Ashok had done his best not to think of the warrior since the day he died.

  Beneath him, the nightmare whickered restlessly and broke Ashok from his thoughts. He looked around at the landscape and felt again that sense of movement, of things watching him from vast distances. It was a strange sensation, this rolling motion. The wind stirred the grass, the river threaded rocks and weeds, and now the caravan joined the constant motion.

  Part of the threat he felt was the ambushers. Ashok saw it in Tuva and Vlahna as well, in the way they rode their horses out east and west of the caravan’s path to scout. Every hour or so Cree or Skagi would venture out b
ehind them, and more than once Ashok saw Kaibeth ride ahead to check the path.

  As far as Ashok could tell, it was early morning when they’d come through the portal, but, as the day went on, the hills gave way to flat, open country. With fewer places for attackers to hide, the caravan crew relaxed a bit and eventually, Vlahna called a halt. The drovers hopped down from the wagons and waddled, stiff-backed, to check the horses. The other passengers immediately did the same. Ashok could see they were weary and grateful to be out of the jostling, bumping wagons.

  “Before you get too comfortable,” Vlahna called out to them, “let me remind all of you that it’s not near dark yet, and that means we’ve many more miles to cover. This is a catch-your-breath stop—nothing more. We move out when I give the word and not five breaths after that.”

  Low-voiced grumbling threaded among the crew, but it was mostly good-natured. Ashok got down from the nightmare’s back and led him to the river. He watched his and the stallion’s reflection as he bent to drink. Again he had to marvel at the variety here, the water plants that grew out from the bank, the green algae, and even a few bright yellow flowers that had survived the first of the killing frosts. Life was going dormant all around him, but there were still small signs of how different that life was from what grew underground.

  He pulled one of the flowers out of the ground by its roots. As he examined it, he heard soft laughter coming from nearby.

  Some of the passengers and guards had wandered down by the river. Ashok was aware of them, but he hadn’t noticed one of the humans watching him. She wore leather armor and a helm underneath which he could see strands of dark curly hair.

  The physical appearance of the other races always struck Ashok, especially that of the humans. They were so much like the shadar-kai in stature and build, but they had markedly varied skin colors that changed according to their emotions or environment. When she removed her helm, Ashok saw this one’s face was dark and creased from where the helm had rubbed her skin. Of course, her eyes affected him most of all.

  Human eyes with their three—sometimes more—colors fascinated Ashok. Black at the center blended to blue, brown or maybe amber, then the whites with their spidery red tendrils branching off in delicate rivers.

  He didn’t realize he’d been staring at the human woman in silence until she chuckled again.

  “Why do you laugh?” he asked her, feeling a stab of irritation. He’d been laughed at enough today.

  “I forgot what you looked like,” she said. She surprised him by speaking the shadar-kai tongue—Common was the accepted language among the caravan crew—but Ashok thought she must not know what she was saying.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  She waved a hand. “Forgive me, that didn’t make any sense, did it? I’m trying to say that you’ve never been to Faerûn before.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I see the signs.” She plucked the flower out of his hand and tossed it in the river. They watched it float away. “You squint, you touch things as if they’re breakable, and you walk around in a daze. I used to go on caravan runs with new shadar-kai all the time, but it’s been so long since we’ve had one come through with us that it took me by surprise.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m sorry—I don’t mean to laugh. My name is Mareyn. I work for the Martuck family.”

  She spoke quickly, with a crisp accent Ashok had never heard in Ikemmu. He clasped her hand. “I’m Ashok. The Martucks are traders?”

  “Some of them are.” She glanced around. “The husband and wife are more than competent, but the boy would rather be anywhere else. I think his parents were hoping the caravan trip would put the fever in his blood, if you know what I mean.”

  When Ashok merely looked at her, she smiled uncertainly. “You’re newer than new, aren’t you?”

  “Back to your posts—we’re moving out!”

  Vlahna’s call came from upriver. Ashok stood and followed Mareyn and the others back up a short rise to the wagons.

  “We’ll talk again,” Mareyn said when he turned to head for the back of the caravan.

  Ashok started to ask her what they were going to manage to talk about when he could barely understand her, but she was already gone. She took up a position with a crossbow in one of the wagons. Ashok saw the boy, the youngest Martuck, was there too. The two of them spoke for a breath, and though Ashok couldn’t hear what they said, he had a good idea what they were talking about when the boy turned to stare at him.

  Ashok stared back until the boy turned a little pale and looked away. Skittish, Ashok thought. He mounted the nightmare and rode back to where Skagi and Cree waited. They were arguing, as usual.

  “It won’t happen tonight,” Cree said. “No human force can get themselves organized that fast.”

  Skagi nudged Ashok. “The one-eyed pup thinks we won’t see an ambush tonight. Needs his sleep, I guess. What say you, Ashok? Will we see them tonight?”

  The caravan was moving, joining the flow of life again. Ashok did his best to go along with it, but he was still tense. “I hope we don’t see anything tonight,” he said. “We’re not ready.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Skagi said sullenly.

  Ashok sighed. “Fine, then. I’m not ready.” Mareyn had been right. He was too new. “There’s so much—I don’t know where to look, where to put my hands.”

  The rain came two hours before nightfall. It started as intermittent drops, cold surprises splashing against their faces and necks. Ashok looked up at the sky. The dark blue clouds had turned black, and a crack of thunder sounded above their heads. A breath later, a torrent of icy needles came pouring from those clouds. The caravan was soon saturated.

  Ashok pulled up the hood of his cloak to keep the rain out of his eyes, and the caravan crew hunkered down as best it could while still moving forward. The soft grass they traveled on would quickly turn to impassable mud. They would have to make camp soon or waste time and energy pushing forward through the muck.

  He wiped the rainwater from his face. In the back of the last wagon, Ilvani sat with her head bent, her chin almost touching her knees. She hadn’t put her hood up, and the rain plastered her hair to her face.

  “Ilvani!” He rode up to the wagon. The nightmare blew a hot, agitated breath, but otherwise it didn’t react to her presence. “Are you all right?”

  She raised her head and, as if she’d only just noticed the rain, tipped her face to the sky and let the sleet hit her cheeks. Ashok let her alone for a breath before he repeated his question.

  “It’s time to sleep now, isn’t it?” Ilvani said. Weary resignation descended on her body, bending her forward again.

  Before Ashok had a chance to say anything, the wagons slowed and halted. Tuva rode back to them and motioned to Ashok.

  “We’re stopping for the night,” he said, pitching his voice loud enough to carry to the rest of the caravan. “The rain’s too heavy—we can’t get to the usual campsite used for this route, but there’s some rocky ground up ahead that’ll serve. We’ll still be soaked, but we won’t be sleeping in mud. More important, the wagons won’t be stuck during the night. Guards, see Vlahna for your watch assignments. Passengers, make yourselves as comfortable as you can. The rest of you, get the gear and wagons secured. You know your jobs.”

  The rain was too heavy for fires, so the caravan cook handed out cold rations and the guards took the horses down to the river for fresh water. Vlahna assigned Ashok and the brothers the first watch. She pulled them aside.

  “I want the three of you to hunt a little before dawn. Shadar-kai have the best eyes, and the more fresh meat we have the better. Just don’t stray too far from the caravan. I think we’ll be looking at a surprise from those bandits come morning.”

  Cree elbowed Skagi. “Told you,” he said.

  The camp came together sloppily in the rain, but by the time it was full dark, everyone had eaten and was bedded down in the wagons, hastily erected tents,
or on the ground with blankets thrown over their heads. The rain eventually dwindled to a fine, icy mist.

  Ashok went to where Ilvani still sat in the back of the wagon. “You can bed down back here if you want, or you can have one of the tents,” he told her.

  “Stay in the wagon, witch,” Skagi advised. He shook out his own soggy tent cloth. “You won’t find a dry spot anywhere else.”

  “It won’t matter,” Ilvani said. “She’ll find me wherever I go. I’ll stay here.” She huddled inside her cloak and lay down in the wagon.

  “We’ll encircle the camp,” Ashok said. “I’ll ride out a little ways with the … my horse, and see if there’s anything moving.”

  “Don’t go looking for trouble without us,” Cree said, giving Ashok a meaningful look.

  “Not this time,” Ashok said. He glanced again at the wagon where Ilvani slept.

  “Don’t worry,” Cree said. “We’ll all keep an eye on her.”

  Ashok mounted the nightmare and rode out from the camp. His vision adjusted easily to the moonlit darkness. Patchy silver light illuminated the open plain. He could see for miles across it, but there was no sign of their attackers. He circled the camp in an ever-widening arc, looking for tracks, but he found nothing.

  They aren’t ghosts, Ashok thought. They’re here somewhere. It was possible they had magical means to communicate with their partners.

  Once he got out far enough from the camp, Ashok gave the nightmare free rein. The beast took off, gaining speed and power as he ran. Ashok sucked frigid air into his lungs. He could feel the contained heat of the nightmare beneath him.

  “You’ll wait, won’t you,” Ashok murmured to the beast. “You’re biding your time because you don’t quite know your place here. But not for long. You’ll taste blood soon, but we have to be careful. You can’t betray what you really are.”

  CHAPTER