The Wounded Shadow

by Patrick W. Carr

  “Where are Cailin and Brod?” Toria asked. “Surely, the regent of Collum has more sense than to take the heir anywhere near the forest.”

  “Have you met Cailin?” the Chief’s voice grew brittle. “She is as reckless in her own way as Dura. We’re five leagues from the edge of the forest and withdrawing south and west as fast as men and horses can move.”

  Toria leaned toward the stone as realization flooded through her. “Wait. If he has plans to create a perfect circle, that would mean he found Chora’s heir.”

  “Yes,” the Chief said. “I received word from Bishop Serius. It seems Bolt has managed to add another historical footnote to the Book of Errants.”

  Toria’s mind reeled, but before she could speak, Pellin’s disjointed voice came from the stone. “Where’s Ry . . . mark?”

  “Treflow,” Brid Teorian said.

  “Why is he so far from the forest?” Pellin asked.

  “The Darkwater erupted,” the Chief said. “Every outpost on the inner ring was wiped out. Here in Collum they came within a hairsbreadth of breaching Cailin’s camp.”

  Pellin’s voice came through the stone, shrill with the effort of making himself heard. “Cesla knows we have gathered the means to defeat him.”

  “Doubtless,” the Chief said.

  “Eldest,” Toria asked, “what happened to make him so desperate?”

  Toria’s stone grew still, and she could sense the Eldest gathering his thoughts. “When we broke Elieve’s vault, we broke it from inside.”

  “Whose vault?” Toria asked.

  “A dwimor we discovered outside of Cynestol,” Pellin said. “Mark persuaded me not to kill her.”

  “You left one of those things alive?” the Chief asked. “Have you been taking lessons from the reeve, Eldest?”

  “You forget yourself, Chief,” Pellin snapped. “The defense of the forest is in my hands.”

  Toria didn’t speak. She had never heard Pellin assert his authority that way before, not with any of the rulers or heads of the church.

  “Your pardon, Eldest,” the Chief said. “Can you turn Dura aside from his plan? If we bring all the rulers together, the risk is unacceptable. If Cesla should manage to take or kill them, the north will fall into anarchy overnight.”

  “No,” Pellin said. “The risk must be taken. Ealdor told me the secret to defeating Cesla was hidden inside Dura’s mind. If he can call the rest of the Fayit, the knowledge Ealdor placed within his vault will defeat Cesla. The evil in the Darkwater knows this, Brid. The Honored One and I, along with another member of the southern Vigil, fought the evil in the Maveth for the duration of an entire night within Elieve’s mind. And we won.”

  “I have to tell Cailin to get in contact with the other rulers immediately,” Brid Teorian said.

  “Before nightfall,” Pellin admonished. “Cesla won’t wait before he strikes again. If Dura is correct, then Cesla only needs to capture one of the monarchs to prevent the call.”

  “Speed, Eldest,” the Chief said. “Rymark cannot hold. Without the inner cordon the foolish and the greedy are flooding into the forest. Cesla will have all the reinforcements he needs.”

  A moment later Toria caught the barest sound of sighing through the stone. “My heart tells me we are in midst of Cesla’s last desperate gamble,” Pellin said. “Secrecy avails us little at this point. What did Ealdor tell you to do, Toria Deel?”

  “To keep the forest defended for as long as possible,” Toria said. “We have a weapon, Eldest, but we need more men. I don’t know how long we can hold at Treflow. Cesla has been teaching blacksmiths how to make tools stronger than aurium.”

  “Do whatever you must,” Pellin said. “So long as the six are safe and Dura lives, we have the means to fight. I will come to you as quickly as I can.”

  The stone went silent. Toria turned to see Fess looking at her, his expression inscrutable. “Lelwin is the weapon you spoke of,” he said.

  His tone had been neutral, but she couldn’t help but read condemnations into it. She pushed it aside. Grieving and guilt would have to wait. If she lived, she would make time for both. “Come, we must gather what forces we can and make for Treflow.”

  Chapter 56

  Hours later Toria Deel held a leaf in her hand, working to think against the panic that made her heart race. Black spots disfigured the oak leaf—and every one of its kin still attached to the sapling. She knew the boundaries of the forest better than any save Pellin. She tore her gaze away from the diseased leaf to stare north, to where blue skies met the black canopy that defined the Darkwater Forest.

  “How far away are we?” she asked Fess.

  “Five miles,” he said. “Perhaps a bit more.”

  His estimate confirmed hers. “It’s growing.” She turned a slow circle, taking in the destruction of yet another outpost. In truth, there hadn’t been much to destroy. Everything that could have been removed prior to the attack had been and there were no bodies. None.

  “Where did they go, Lady Deel?” Fess asked.

  She dropped the leaf and crushed it beneath her boot, obeying some obscure impulse. “South. The commander either received word to withdraw or was wise enough to notice the encroachment of the forest, probably the latter.” She pointed to the sapling. “The dirt around the trunk is freshly dug. Clever man.”

  She glanced at the sun, noted they still had two hours until dusk, and considered their course of action, weighing Ealdor’s command against the desire to find the men who’d fled their outpost. For the moment, those two objectives aligned. She paused. Perhaps there was a way to ensure that continued. Mounting her horse, she lifted her voice and called. “Wag.”

  “I don’t see him,” Fess said. “Can he hear you?”

  Toria nodded. “The sentinels are physically gifted, just as you are. Imagine adding a pure gift to an animal whose senses of smell and hearing are already far greater than your own.” She pointed east, to where a blur moved across the ground at frightening speed. “You see?”

  A moment later, the sentinel stood before her, his tongue waving in time to his panting. “Wag, track the men who fled from here, not the attackers.”

  With a yip that should have come from a smaller dog, he entered the compound, pausing to smell the ground where the grass had been disturbed and flattened by the presence of tents. Then he returned and started south, setting a pace that forced the horses to a quick trot. Toria breathed a sigh of relief. The possibility that the evil from the forest had caught the men unaware, corrupting them, had lain on her heart, nagging at her and refusing dismissal.

  A half hour before sunset, Wag went on point facing a thick copse of trees. Fess dismounted. “They don’t know us, Lady Deel. Wag and I will go first.” He approached, stepping slowly with his hands in sight and Wag on his right. “We’re seeking the men from the outpost north of here,” he called.

  A woman wearing the blue and black of Caisel stepped out from behind the nearest tree, an arrow nocked and trained on Fess’s heart. “Move along, stranger, and we won’t have any trouble.”

  Fess halted his advance. Toria dismounted and edged closer, keeping him between her and the woman. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you won’t survive the night without us,” Toria said.

  A man stepped out from behind a tree to her left. “I’m Commander Oriano. You tracked us here so you could help us?” He darted a glanced at the woman on his left. “You hear that, Serana? They want to help us.” He barked a laugh. “I have two score men in these woods. We can care for ourselves. Tomorrow we’ll make the outer cordon.”

  “No, Commander,” Toria said. “You have fifteen, and when the sun goes down the fields north of here are going to be filled with the enemy.” She took a step forward, away from Fess’s protection and made a point of gazing at the copse of trees. “At the approach of dawn, your hiding place will draw them like a flame draws moths. They’ll need shelter from tomorrow’s sun,
and when they find you here, Commander, you will die.”

  Doubt filled Oriano’s gaze as Toria waited.

  Serana’s arrow dipped toward the ground. “And what can you do to help us?” the woman said. She pointed at Wag and then Fess. “The dog is big enough and he moves well, but your sword won’t be much help in the dark. And as for her . . .” She nodded to where Lelwin sat her horse. “The snap of a twig would have her screaming.”

  On Toria’s left the sun touched the horizon. “Commander, if you want to live, you need to let me help you. I can show you how to fight those from the forest, but you have to do exactly as I say, and you have to do it now.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “And if I refuse?”

  Toria turned her back on him and returned to her horse, ready to mount. “Then we will leave you to your own protection and circle around.” She nodded to Wag. “He sees well enough in the dark to get us to the outer ring of Rymark’s defense. We’ll send someone back for your bodies.”

  She gave him all of two heartbeats to decide, then put her foot in the stirrup.

  “Alright.” He stepped forward. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Take us to your camp,” she ordered. “Then, gather or make long strips of heavy cloth, about a hand wide.” His expression clouded, betraying his confusion, but he turned and waved Toria and Fess into the copse.

  Ahead of Toria, Fess turned, his expression dark. “What do you intend?” he said. “They do not have the knowledge to fight like Lelwin. You’ll be sending them out to be killed.”

  “No,” Toria said. “They will fight nearly as well as she does.”

  He stopped, as if entering the trees might signal surrender. “What do you intend, Toria Deel?” he repeated.

  Conscious of the soldiers waiting for them, she edged closer. “At sunset Lelwin’s vault will open and she will become Brekana once more. With your help, we will delve her and place her knowledge and experience into Oriano and all his soldiers.”

  He shook his head. “If you mean to do this without their permission, Toria Deel, I will not help you.”

  She nodded. “That is your choice, Fess, but men and women will die who would otherwise live. What I am proposing to do is taxing. I can only transfer Brekana’s experience to half of Oriano’s men, perhaps a bit more.”

  Without waiting for an answer, she turned to follow Oriano and Serana deeper into the woods. Fifty paces in, she came to a small clearing where the commander waited for her with Serana and thirteen more, strips of cloth clutched in their hands. A small fire burned in the center of the clearing. “That’s a good idea, Commander, but the wrong time,” she said. “Cover your eyes, you and all your men. For the next few hours, light is as much your enemy as those from the forest. Fess, kill the fire.”

  Oriano stood before her. “Without the fire to keep them at bay, we cannot hope to fight.”

  Instead of answering her question, she turned to Fess. “Bring her,” she said. Then, taking three of the strips from Oriano, she moved to Lelwin’s side and began wrapping her eyes in the heavy cloth. Without the fire and with the setting of the sun, it only took one. She stiffened, straightening from her curled posture, her mouth twisted with contempt.

  “Do you think I will consent to help you, Toria Deel?” Lelwin rasped, her voice dropping into the deeper register that defined Brekana. “Am I your hound that you may send hunting whenever you desire?”

  “Yes,” Toria answered. “However much you may hate me, Brekana, I know you hate the forest and those who fight for it even more.” Toria stretched forth her bare hand, then stopped. Brekana hated her, but it would be a mistake to justify that hatred by taking what might be freely given. “We’re caught between the ruins of Rymark’s inner cordon and the outer defenses. The sun has set, and it’s likely that Cesla’s men will find us before dawn. There are fifteen men and women, soldiers of Caisel, who are hale and whole, around you. Will you tell them how to fight?”

  Lelwin’s head moved from side to side. “Tell them, Toria Deel? It took weeks of experience and heavy losses to teach those who fought with me how to stay hidden until the right moment, how to position themselves in the moonlight to see the enemy.”

  Toria stepped closer so that none but Lelwin might hear her. “While you teach them, Fess and I will give them your memories. They will have your teaching and experience to draw upon.”

  “Ah, yes. Your mind tricks. For all your skill, you couldn’t take the memories that broke me.”

  “I could have,” Toria said. “But our pain defines us, for good or ill. If I had taken those memories from you, it would have broken you in the end. Taken from your mind, but present in your spirit, you would have been unable to understand the terrors that came upon you at random times, unaware that some chance sound or smell triggered a memory you no longer had, but still held in your spirit.”

  “Yes,” Lelwin mocked. “I’m sure you have an excellent reason for your failure.” She pointed at Toria’s hands. “And if I refuse, will you take what I haven’t offered?”

  “Yes,” Toria said, but she made no move.

  Lelwin held out her arm. “You fool yourself if you believe that you’ve offered me a choice.”

  Her fingers hovered above Lelwin’s arms. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yes,” Lelwin said. “Of course you are. Take them, Toria Deel.”

  Just before contact, Toria spoke once more. “I need you to think about how you fight those from the Darkwater.”

  A predatory smile split Lelwin’s face. “I think about little else.”

  Toria dropped into the delve to see the memories that comprised Brekana’s personality. Sparkling recollections flowed past, savored memories streaked with black, testimonies of their dual nature. “Someday,” Toria promised, “I will see you healed of this.” She paused to amend her vow. “If Aer wills.”

  Sighing, she dipped her hands into the memories that defined Brekana’s personality, sifting for those she would use to teach Oriano and the rest how to fight. After she had placed them behind a door within her mind, she willed herself to release Lelwin’s arm and blinked to find herself in the darkened clearing.

  Oriano, possibly sensing her movement, spoke, turning to face her despite the veil he wore. “How are we to fight?”

  “A moment, Commander,” she said. “You and your soldiers must acclimate to the dark, and the embers of the fire are still too bright.”

  She moved to Fess’s side. “Will you consent to help me?”

  When he didn’t speak she held out her arm. “You will have to touch me.” When he came into her mind, she was waiting for him in the midst of her sanctuary.

  “You left me no choice but to help you,” he said. “You knew I would never consign those men and women to death.” Strangely, his tone was gentler than she expected.

  “You don’t condemn me?” she asked.

  “No,” he said. “I realize you had no choice either. Without Lelwin’s knowledge, Oriano and the rest will die. My apologies, Lady Deel. I spoke without thinking.”

  She’d been prepared for judgment, not understanding, and tears gathered at the corners of her eyes. Ignoring them, she stepped forward. “Make a door within your mind, a place for the memories I’m about to give you.” When he nodded, she released them.

  Finding herself in the clearing once more, she spoke to Lelwin. “Speak to them, Brekana. Tell them how you fight those from the Darkwater. Tell them everything you’ve learned, however long it takes.”

  Lelwin stepped forward, her voice strong, assured. “First you must understand the enemy you face. The moonlight that is hardly more than a phantom of barest argent to us is as bright as day to our enemies. That is why you must wear the veil until you’re ready to fight. You must guard your eyes from light, any light, if you want to live.”

  As she spoke, Toria and Fess moved to each member of Oriano’s command, touching man or woman, releasing Brekana’s memories into their stream. Over and again, they touc
hed them, reinforcing the instruction they heard with her memories.

  Hours later, after the embers of the fire had gone completely out, Lelwin stopped. “That’s all,” she said.

  Toria touched the soldier nearest her, a tall, lanky woman with sinewy arms. Brekana’s memories had merged with the memories of her instruction within the woman’s mind, but the threads held an ephemeral quality, as if they might be forgotten at any moment. “That’s enough,” she said, speaking with false confidence.

  “Is the fire out?” Lelwin asked. “Is the moon up?”

  “Yes,” Toria said, “on both counts.”

  Removing her veil, Lelwin retrieved her bow and quiver. “Come, all of you. It’s time you began your apprenticeship in truth. Once we have departed, Toria Deel, relight your fire. It will draw them to you. Outlined against its light, they will make easier targets.”

  Chapter 57

  Lelwin and the rest melted into the night, each armed with a short bow and as many arrows as they could carry. Toria stood in the dark, squinting to see, straining to hear, but any noise that might have come to her from outside the copse of trees was swallowed by the wind coming out of the north. “Wag, come here.”

  Because he was hidden by darkness, she didn’t know he’d responded until she felt him press against her, his bulk of muscle hard beneath the fur. A thousand different smells came to her as she dropped into his awareness. Wag, I want you to guard Oriano and Serana and all the rest, but don’t kill.

  Within the delve her impression of the woods around them pitched as the sentinel tilted his head. Mistress, I don’t understand.

  They need to hunt, Wag, and if you kill those from the forest, they won’t learn how. Keep them safe, but don’t kill any from the forest except to save our soldiers.

  She could see herself from his perception, hints of yellow and blue in the moonlight. His tongue came out and found her cheek, leaving a trail of wet a hand wide on her face. As you say, Mistress. Knowing how to hunt is important. I will guard your pups.