Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road

by Jaleigh Johnson

  Cree and Skagi came quietly into the front room. Cree nodded toward the two small bedchambers off the main room. Ashok and the brothers had shared one, Ilvani and Reina, the other. “The healer is talking to Ilvani about something,” he said. “I heard muffled voices but couldn’t make out what they were saying.”

  “Hopefully she’ll share something about the ritual,” Ashok said.

  Skagi grunted. “Ask me, let them handle their dead witch’s problems on their own. They don’t want us here, so we’ll go.”

  “That won’t make Ilvani’s nightmares go away,” Cree said.

  “I know that,” Skagi muttered. He fiddled with his falchion hilt, half drawing the weapon from its scabbard. “I just don’t like being idle. We’ve come a long way just to sit and wait on the witches to solve this mystery of who we’re fighting.”

  “The force that threatens Yaraella—it must be powerful,” Cree said. “Would they tell us if they knew what it was?”

  “I don’t know, but they’d be foolish not to prepare us,” Ashok said. Mimicking Skagi, he took out his own weapon, just to have something to do with his hands. Though stained and knicked all over, the spikes still bore signs of the magic the blacksmith had placed on it.

  For the first time since he’d left the city, Ashok found himself missing Ikemmu. After eight months, he’d grown confident in his surroundings, his understanding of the place, and his role in the city. He felt ill at ease in Rashemen.

  “We should train,” Cree said. “Look at us. We need a fight, to shake off our uncertainties, if nothing else.”

  “Will the guards let us?” Skagi asked.

  “Agny said we have the freedom of the village,” Ashok said. His mouth twisted in a smile. “I doubt she’ll mind us trying to cut each other up.”

  “Who’s cutting me up?” Skagi said, raising a hand to his ear as if he’d gone deaf. “Did I hear a challenge in those words?”

  “You did,” Ashok said. “Though how you could hear anything over the sound of your own bellows …”

  “Oh, it was a challenge,” Skagi said. “Outside, pup. You’re getting too cocky, but don’t worry, we’ll cure you of it. We just need to get you down on the ground, picking dirt out of your teeth. Fix you right up.”

  The easy banter distracted and comforted Ashok for a time. He trained with Skagi and Cree for hours, until his muscles were on fire and his hands throbbed from the stinging vibration of metal on metal every time their weapons came together. He stopped later only to check on the nightmare stabled behind Reina’s hut.

  He saw the healer had been near the nightmare’s stall recently. She’d drawn a circle in the dirt around it and lined the outside with symbols. Bundles of sticks tied with heather were placed at four points around the circle. Ashok saw smoke rising from three of the bundles. The fourth was a blackened lump, the twigs nearly consumed by fire.

  The nightmare stood at ease within the circle. Only his smoldering eyes betrayed his rage at the indignity of being kept like a common stable horse. Ashok felt the hate coursing through the stallion. He recognized the emotions as being separate from his own, but he felt them no less strongly for having that knowledge.

  A soft gasp made Ashok spin, his hand on his chain. He relaxed when he saw the other masked witch, Sree, standing at the stable door. The shallow light filtering behind her made her appear a walking shadow. Her mask obscured all emotion, and Ashok could not see her eyes. It unsettled him, the idea that he would never know, when these witches approached, if they meant him peace or harm.

  “I didn’t mean to disturb you,” Sree said. Ashok detected no threat in her voice, only calm strength tinged with curiosity. “I came to reinforce the circle. It seems I’m just in time.”

  “He won’t hurt anyone,” Ashok said. “That’s not what he’s here for.”

  The witch chuckled softly and without humor. “Listen to your words. Its presence harms all who come near it. What if a child wandered in here and found the protective circle broken? What if your beast chose that moment to vent its hatred with a scream?”

  The truth of the rebuke pierced Ashok. “Forgive me, I—”

  The witch held up a hand. “We need not talk of forgiveness. Let me offer you a warning instead. I see the connection between you and this creature, like a black thread that joins you breast to breast. The longer you stay together, the thicker the strand will grow. You already sense it, don’t you?” she said, reading his expression.

  Ashok nodded. “I feel what he feels. Sometimes it’s as if I can read his thoughts.”

  “Don’t be alarmed by this,” Sree said, “for it can work in your favor, if you allow it.”

  “How?”

  “Just as you feel its hatred and rage—and are sometimes infected by it—so too can it feel the emotions in your heart. When you show mercy and compassion, it forces the nightmare to experience the same feelings. You can use them to influence him.”

  It made sense, and it explained how, out on the Shadowfell plain, the nightmare had been able to shake off the effects of the madness. He had Ashok’s emotions to draw upon to bring him back to sanity.

  “But he can also influence me,” Ashok said, “can’t he?”

  “Yes,” Sree said. “That is why I warn you—the longer you allow this evil thing to be your companion, the more it becomes part of you. Or maybe I am misguided in my warnings? Maybe that is what you want?”

  “No,” Ashok said. “I don’t, but I’m afraid it might be the only way.”

  Sree chuckled again. “You do have the air of inevitability about you, shadow man.” She bent and whispered a prayer over the blackened twigs, then threw them in a corner. She laid a fresh bundle in their place and continued around the circle, praying and strengthening the offerings. The smoke rising from the twigs gradually dissipated.

  “Agny told me you were training Yaraella to cope with her gifts,” Ashok said. “She said you were a skilled teacher. Does that mean you’re close to the spirit world as well?”

  “My sister hathran speaks too highly of me,” Sree said, but Ashok could tell by her tone she was pleased at the praise. “My gifts are nothing like Yaraella’s were. Yet I am known among my sisters for having much patience and control. There is very little in this world or the spirit realm that surprises or frightens me.”

  “Except Ilvani,” Ashok said.

  The hathran’s eyes widened behind her mask. “You’re mistaken,” she said sharply. “I don’t fear your witch, shadow man, and you’re impertinent to say so.”

  Ashok shrugged. “I saw the way you looked at her. Something about her unsettles you, whether you admit it or not.”

  Sree walked around the circle again to check it, but Ashok thought she was stalling. Her movements had an edge of anger. All the while, the nightmare watched them both, his red eyes speculative.

  Sree sighed and said, “You’re right. She does disturb me. She’s too much like Yaraella. I never thought I would see another with her power, unless Elina grows up to share her gifts. Surely she is an oddity among your people?”

  “She—” Ashok hesitated. “Yes. We don’t always understand her. On our journey, Ilvani said she kept seeing owls. I saw her look at the sky so many times, but there was never anything there.”

  Sree’s eyes softened. Ashok imagined she might be smiling behind the mask. “Remarkable. A rare breed of brown owl used to inhabit the pinewoods in this area. I’d nearly forgotten. They had all died out by the time I was born. My mother used to collect their feathers, which were often used as quills. Sadly, many of the quills remain, even though all the owls are gone.”

  Her words triggered a memory in Ashok’s mind—the day he’d taken Ilvani to Darnae’s shop. “That’s what she said.” He spoke half to himself. “Ilvani looked at Darnae’s quill racks and told her the owls were all gone.” Ashok hadn’t understood a word of it, but Darnae had. She’d understood Ilvani after knowing her for only a few minutes. Ashok had known her for months and hadn’t g
otten as far.

  Ashok felt suddenly so useless. He tried to recall everything Ilvani had ever said to him. He’d been so arrogant to think that her words were meaningless, when all the time there was truth in them that he’d just been too blind to see.

  “Some in Ikemmu call her the mad witch,” Ashok said, remembering Skagi’s words when they’d rescued Ilvani from Ashok’s enclave. “Some call her a prophet.”

  “What do you call her?” Sree asked curiously.

  “Neither,” Ashok said.

  “That’s for the best. It means she can turn to you,” Sree said. “We all turn to the people who see us most clearly.”

  “I’ve done little enough for her on that score,” Ashok said, “but I’ll do everything I can to protect her from Yaraella’s monster during the ritual. Nothing will harm her if I can prevent it.”

  “Bold words,” Sree said. “You should have faith in her god and ours to watch over this endeavor.”

  Ashok laughed without humor. “You ask for the one thing I can’t give,” he said. “Why should we trust Tempus and Bhalla to favor us? What have they done thus far to ensure Ilvani’s safety or Yaraella’s peace? Your witch took her life because she couldn’t bear her gifts. Mine has lived through a hell that would break lesser men. You say they’re close to the spirit realm—that makes them closer to their gods than all of us.” Ashok was aware of his voice rising, but he couldn’t stop the words or the anger. “Tell me, who is more deserving of protection than they? Yet here we sit, you and I, whole and sane”—he laughed again bitterly—“or at least as sane as can be expected, while the ones we care about die or lose pieces of themselves. What can we truly expect from the gods?”

  “Nothing,” Sree said simply.

  “A poor answer,” Ashok said, his tone sullen.

  “A true answer,” Sree corrected him. “It’s not for us to know the gods’ will. Human or shadar-kai—all we can do is live our lives, make the best choices we can, and accept that we can’t control everything.”

  “If that’s all, why do I need Tempus?” Ashok said.

  “Don’t mistake me for a spiritual guide,” Sree said. “You’ll have to work out your faith—or lack of it—by yourself.” She looked at him for a long time in thoughtful silence. “But if you’re determined to protect Ilvani in her god’s place, I may be able to help you,” she said. “You can’t join in our ritual directly, but when the time comes, speak to me again, and I will show you a way you can watch over Ilvani, if you wish.”

  Her gesture of trust surprised Ashok. “I do. You have my thanks,” he said.

  She chuckled. “You thank me for offering you the chance to risk your life meddling with death and dangerous magic. It’s true what folk say of the shadar-kai, isn’t it? You chase pain with mad smiles on your faces.”

  “For the sake of my city and my companions—always,” Ashok said.

  Ashok left the nightmare secure in the protective circle. Not far away, Skagi and Cree were still sparring, and Ashok noticed their battles had attracted a small audience of Rashemi berserkers. A part of him wanted to join them, to challenge the berserkers to a match, but instead he found himself walking off toward the pinewoods behind Reina’s hut.

  He walked until the sound of voices and the ring of steel faded to a dim song in the back of his mind. He held his chain in his hands and put his back against one of the immense pines. The perpetual cold and silence plucked at his spirit, but Ashok pushed back against the oppressive feeling.

  Looking up into the trees, Ashok tried to imagine Ilvani’s owls. He squinted into the dim sunlight until his vision blurred, but even then, the phantoms did not appear.

  “You showed me the Tuigan soldier,” Ashok said. His anger rekindled. “I did what you wanted. The least you can do is show me her owls.”

  He pushed off the tree and wandered in an aimless circle, unsure how to proceed. If Uwan were here, he would know.

  “Tempus,” he said abruptly, and stopped, half-shocked to hear the god’s name come from his lips. He couldn’t take it back, so he hurried on, speaking through his anger. “If you know her at all, you know what’s at stake. Help her survive this ordeal. Let her find peace. She’s given up too much already. I’ll do what I can, but remember, I’m not doing it for you. It’s only for her.”

  He put his chain back on his belt and left the wood. He was almost to the path that led up to Reina’s door when he heard a rustle in the trees. He spun, his hand on his weapon. A shower of pine needles littered the spot where he’d been standing a breath ago. The sunlight flashed in his eyes, momentarily blinding him, but in that instant Ashok thought he saw wings silhouetted against the sun. When he blinked his vision clear, he saw nothing, no bird in the sky.

  The pine needles were still there.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHTEEN

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, THREE MORE MASKED WITCHES ARRIVED in Tinnir. Soon afterward, Agny came to tell them that the ritual would take place that evening. They had the day to prepare themselves.

  Ashok went to see Sree a few hours before the ritual was to begin. He noticed on his way to Reina’s hut that the Rashemi berserkers gathered at the edge of the lake with the newly arrived witches. They were constructing a large raft by lashing wood planks together. The wood looked as if it had come from newly felled trees. The witches carved into the planks complex symbols similar to those Ilvani bore on her arms, readying them for the ritual, which would take place near the center of the lake. Apparently, Agny’s power was strongest on the water.

  The masked women stared at Ashok as he passed, and one of them made a gesture like a ward in the air.

  Sree saw him coming. She opened the door to the hut and beckoned him inside.

  Herbs covered her kitchen table, staining it green and yellow. A small pot boiled over the fire, releasing fragrant vapors into the air. Ashok drew in the scent, but he didn’t recognize any of the herbs.

  “Agny told me to warn you,” Sree said, “that when the warriors felled the trees for the ritual, they noticed a disturbance in the forest.”

  “What kind of disturbance?” Ashok asked.

  “A pair of treants—powerful fey spirits—inhabit the evergreen woods around Tinnir,” Sree explained. “Long ago our people named the larger one Tallmarrow and the smaller one Needle. They’ve protected this area for many years and have counseled the wychlaran. We made offerings, and the warriors showed the utmost care when they brought down the trees, but I’m afraid the influence of Ilvani and Elina here together in the village has affected even their ancient minds.”

  “You think they’re going to seek revenge for you taking the trees?” Ashok said.

  “Yes, and if they disrupt the ritual, the witches and Ilvani might perish,” Sree said.

  “They have to cross the lake,” Ashok said. “We won’t let them get to you.”

  Sree nodded. “Once the ritual begins, drink this potion down.” She took the lid off the pot and placed it on the hearth. Dipping a metal ladle into the boiling liquid, she poured a small amount into a metal vial. She stoppered it and handed it to Ashok.

  The vial warmed his hands. Ashok held it between his palms and nodded his thanks. “How will I know if it’s worked?”

  “You’ll know,” Sree said. “Whatever force threatens Ilvani, you’ll see it first, even if it’s invisible to the warriors around you.”

  “I owe you a debt,” Ashok said.

  Sree shook her head. She walked to the door and opened it. A rare parting in the clouds revealed a blazing sunset over the lake. Orange and purple rays struck the surface of the water and created a tapestry of moving color.

  “Bhalla blesses us,” Sree said. “You should walk, shadow man, and enjoy this evening. How many like this can you claim in your lifetime?”

  “None,” Ashok said. He stepped outside and let the rays turn his scarred flesh gold.

  Ilvani walked with Reina along the lakeshore as the Rashemi warriors placed the finished raft on the dock.
The ethran led her over to the raft and pointed at the symbols carved into the wooden planks.

  “These hands on the outer edges are the hearts and minds of the villagers. The carvings bear drops of their blood, freely spilled for us. Their strength will protect us from any current that might upset the raft,” she said. “We won’t feel the motion of the water at all.” She pointed to an inner circle composed of mountain peaks and flames. “Sree’s work. Her magic will keep us anchored to our homes and our land, so none of us will go astray in the spirit realm.”

  Ilvani looked at the innermost circle, composed of swirling lines. “What protection is that?”

  “Agny’s,” Reina said, “and mine. We are the summoners—we will speak to Yaraella first and thus attract the attention of the evil that hunts her. Agny’s power is strongest on the water, so on water we stand. I also buried herbs in the symbols to represent the power of earth. The three of us are connected. We will face the evil without fear, as you must.”

  Ilvani saw how it might go, with all the witches and their places in the circle. She saw her own spot in the center, a protected space marked with a dark carved slash like a tearing shadow. Next to it, a similar space bore a carving of a heather flower. Ilvani’s eyes narrowed.

  “What is that?” she demanded, pointing to the flower.

  Reina’s eyes clouded. “Elina’s place,” she said. “At Agny’s command, she will join the circle.”

  “Why?”

  “Why should it matter to you?” Reina said, sounding surprised. “The child is not your concern.”

  “The child looks at me and sees its mother,” Ilvani said.

  “I know,” Reina said. “The two of you will provide the strongest link to Yaraella.”

  She still doesn’t understand, Ilvani thought. If the child dies, in her last moments she’ll look to me to protect her. She looked at her hands, those useless appendages that always failed her. She did not want to have to watch the child’s soul slip through her fingers, but she didn’t tell Reina that. The ethran would never understand, Ilvani thought bitterly, how a soulless one could know so much about the spirits.