Haven 3 Shadow Magic (Haven Series 3)

by Larson, B. V.

  “Tell me of the Blue Jewel. What will be done with it?”

  Telyn nodded slowly. “Ah, I see now why you have come. You are your father’s lackey. You are here to wheedle and plead for his foolishly lost bauble. Well, I don’t have it, and I’m not in charge of its keeping, either.”

  For a fraction of a second, the elf registered anger on his face. He stared at her, and his lips twitched as if they wished to pull into a tight snarl. She tightened her grip upon her knife. At his side, she noted now, he did carry a rapier. If he drew it and lunged, she was not sure she could defend herself.

  Puck watched her closely. After a moment, he regained his composure and went back to pleading. “Lovely lady, you wound me with your scornful words.”

  Telling herself to stay more civil, Telyn began walking toward the castle once more. It was difficult to turn away from him, to force her feet to begin moving again. Hadn’t she made a pledge to herself? Ah yes, she recalled it now. She was not going to speak to the elf. She was not going to pause in her journey or be turned to another path. So far, she had not kept her pledge. Her jaw set itself, jutting forward, and she forced her feet to move. Once she was walking again, each step became easier. She wondered at the elf’s power. Surely, without her ward, she would have been swept away and become his plaything. She shivered, although the night air was not truly cold.

  Puck followed, pacing alongside her again. “My offer stands,” he said. “Tell me something of the Jewel, and I will tell you something of Brand.”

  “I don’t know anything special,” she said. “Tomkin wielded the Blue and called the Rainbow. When he lost control of it, he handed it over to Brand, who commanded the Rainbow, as I’m sure you witnessed.

  “Did the Wee One die?”

  “No, he had a hard time of it, but he managed to survive.”

  “Interesting. Did he hand over the Jewel willingly, or was it taken by force?”

  “He was very weak at the time, but he did not fight.”

  “Hmm,” said Puck. He did not sound happy with her answer. “And what of Brand?”

  “He wielded the Jewel in Tomkin’s stead. Have your people no eyes? I would think you knew this story by now.”

  “We have eyes everywhere,” said Puck, smiling oddly. “Sometimes, we even share your own with you.”

  Telyn shuddered, and again had to force herself to start walking. She had unaccountably stopped.

  “What I want to know,” said Puck, “is whether Brand wielded the Jewels both together?”

  Telyn considered it. “Yes, I would say he did. But not quite at the same time, since he could only see out the Rainbow’s eyes or his own at one time, not both together. Still, they were both actively affecting him.”

  “Very interesting. Now, I see the hour is late, and we are near your encampment. I will take my leave now, pretty maiden—”

  “No,” she said. “I will not permit it. You will tell me of Brand, as you promised.”

  Puck’s answering smile was wide, but insincere. “Of course,” he said, speaking through two rows of perfect teeth.

  “Where is Brand?”

  “In the Twilight Lands.”

  “Has he been wounded?”

  “Several times.”

  Telyn sucked in her breath. “Is he mortally wounded?”

  “I should think not.”

  She sighed in relief. “What of Herla?”

  “That creature has sadly passed on.”

  She cocked her head and regarded the elf. “You feel sadness at the passing of such a monster?”

  Puck drew himself up. “The Dead are merely in another state of being. We among the Faerie do not judge them as harshly as your folk tend to.”

  Telyn shook her head and laughed. “We find bloodthirsty Dead to be unredeemable and thoroughly evil.”

  “Nonsense!” said Puck, and she thought there was a ring of honest outrage to his words now. Perhaps with this topic she had somehow struck past his fawning façade. “There is no true evil—only the pleasant and the unpleasant.”

  “Well then, I would most definitely say the Wild Hunt qualified as unpleasant.”

  “A difficult point to argue,” he conceded.

  The two walked together until they’d reached the foot of the crumbling walls.

  “Good bye then,” she said as the elf lingered.

  “Can I not be rewarded with token of affection?” asked Puck.

  Telyn looked at him and shook her head. The elf was positively incorrigible. He stood expectantly, hopefully, and she found herself weakening. She straightened her back and thought of Brand’s face.

  “No,” she said.

  “Not even a single, chaste kiss?”

  “Never,” she said, but she smiled at him as she left him at the walls and walked back into the encampment.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Homeward

  When Brand left the world of twilight and returned to the world of sun and stars he found the area around the Faerie mound deserted. It was morning, as best he could tell from the bluish cast to the sunlight. How long could he have spent in that other place, he wondered? Perhaps, he thought to himself with a chill, it had been much longer than a single night.

  There were a few rhinog bodies laying about, stinking in the sun. He thought they had a great stench about them, living or dead, but that in death they were probably worse.

  He trudged wearily, wounded and sore, toward the damaged keep. The bright sun and his fatigue caused his eyes to squint. But even with his eyes half-open, he kept them sliding from side to side warily. Who knew how things had gone during his absence? Hob had promised to withdraw, and Herla had fallen, but there were still the merlings and the Faerie who might attack him.

  After he had gone no more than a dozen heavy steps and had begun to consider removing at least some of his armor, someone hailed him.

  “Oh hey! Brand!” shouted Corbin. He came up behind him and clapped him upon the shoulder.

  Brand turned him a tired smile. “I’m very glad to see you made it.”

  “I feel the same. I’ve camped upon that hill, waiting for two days now. The nights were hectic, let me say.”

  “Thanks for waiting for me. Had it been a century, I would hope you would have given up.”

  “Never!” beamed Corbin, “but seriously now, you must tell me how things went. We know that the Wild Hunt vanished. Soon after that the rhinogs withdrew, marching in the direction of the Black Mountains. They flew a white ribbon, so we let them go. I hope this was the right move.”

  Brand nodded. “It was indeed.” He told Corbin the details of his adventures in the twilight lands.

  “So, you gave Old Hob the Horn of Shadow?” he asked, worriedly.

  “I know, not the best of enemies to empower. But I needed his help to beat a greater evil and we struck a bargain. If you don’t keep your word with these creatures, there is little basis for ever achieving peace.”

  Corbin nodded, for once he kept quiet about his own opinions. He turned to helping Brand remove his armor and bandage his wounds. None were life-threatening. Brand reflected that he made an excellent second. There was nothing the axe needed more to help balance a man than a trusted, cooler head.

  Brand enquired about Myrrdin and of course Telyn. Myrrdin had never returned from the Faerie mound after the night Brand had told him he would not remake the Pact. None had seen him or Oberon from that day to this. Telyn had been sick with worry about him and had taken shifts upon the mound, as well attended Corbin’s. She had kept busy helping the wounded, hunting for food and scouting for the army.

  Others of the River Folk army soon joined them as they marched to the ruins. The news of Herla’s destruction spread quickly. When Brand arrived at the encampment, the army was in fact packing up to march homeward. They had lost nearly a third of their number, but at least some kind of happy news was theirs to report.

  “We will return here one day,” Brand told the assembled men when they had final
ly stopped cheering him. “We will make this place green again, and it will be part of the lands of men.”

  The cheering was muted and more ragged as he talked of returning. Many of the men looked as if they would rather never leave the Haven again. Some, however, roared approval for his fighting spirit.

  “I will say this last,” said Brand, pulling out the axe again. It provided him a burst of energy and good spirit. “We will not have the Faerie or any other folk as our masters again. The Pact was an arrangement of tribute. It was a servile, pathetic state for the River Folk. We will not buy peace that way again. By the Golden Eye of Ambros I do swear this!”

  He lofted the axe and it flashed. Everyone there felt a ferocity of spirit overtake them, and their voices rose up to a roaring shout. They cheered and slammed their palms together until they stung. The walls of the ruins rang with the sound.

  Brand marched to the boats and the army followed him. Brand saw Tylag and Corbin exchange glances, but he didn’t care. Not one whit. For he meant his words, Axeman or not, he would live and die by them.

  They sailed home and none dared to delay them.

  Brand’s heart grew heavy, however, as they approached Riverton. He feared, somehow, that the town would have been fired and ruined in his absence. Perhaps everyone he knew, save those on the boats with him, had perished in some attack while the army was away.

  Corbin and Telyn had asked him about his dark mood, but he didn’t tell them what he was thinking. Best to let them enjoy the feeling of victory for as long as possible, should despair be waiting for them at home.

  So it was, when Stone Island hove into view and everything looked right about it, his face split into a grin. Only Corbin caught on.

  “You thought perhaps we were coming home to something awful, didn’t you?” he asked quietly as the boats all jockeyed to be first to the docks. The River Folk on the docks cheered to see the returning army. Soon half the town turned out, fluttering handkerchiefs and colored ribbons at them.

  Brand shrugged. He knew there was no dodging Corbin’s mind. “Oberon and Hob were missing from the battlefield. Not to mention the merlings. Our army wasn’t home to protect our people and I didn’t know where the enemy might be.”

  “You feared they may have attacked here,” said Corbin, nodding, “now that I think about it, the thought makes me shudder. Do you really think that our enemies might have fallen upon our civilians out of spite?”

  Brand snorted. “How do you think the Dead Kingdoms came to have their name?”

  Corbin nodded gravely but clapped Brand upon the back. Brand winced from the wound Herla had given him. Somehow, it seemed to hurt more as the days passed and it began to heal.

  “Forget all those worries! They must have feared our vengeance too much to dare it!”

  Brand thought about that as the celebrations began. As usual, there was wisdom in Corbin’s words.

  After the celebrations, however, certain key questions remained. Everyone wanted to know the answers. Chief among them was the question of what was going to be done with the Blue Jewel. People seemed to accept that he was the Axeman now, that the Amber Jewel should be Brand’s to keep. But the second one, no one knew what to do with it. They all seemed to want to talk about the subject, however.

  One night in a remote parlor of Drake manor, Tylag and Corbin discussed it with Brand. Tylag was of the opinion that it should be taken to the Riverton Council and there a decision could be made properly, in accordance with Haven law. Brand rejected this idea.

  “I’ll not give it to a crowd of River Folk elders. No offense, Uncle, but they wouldn’t know what they were dealing with. Can you imagine Old Tad Silure with a Jewel of power? He’d drill a hole in it and sell it as a ward.”

  Tylag had to laugh at that, but his manner was uneasy. Brand could tell his Uncle was handling him delicately, so as to not set him off. Ironically, just the thought of his Uncle having to dance around with words like that made him angry. He fought to control his temper, and the axe rolled around on his back restlessly. He had, by now, gotten a much heavier pack of thick black leather and metal studs to stow it in. He dared not carry it on his belt, it was just too dangerous. If even a child walked up and ran a finger down the blade, well, that would be a nine-fingered boy who went home that day.

  “They all have read and heard of the Jewels,” said Corbin, supporting his father.

  Brand laughed. “That’s nothing. Hold one in your hand and let it burn a hole in your mind. Walk as the Rainbow. Then face down the Faerie in their own lands. At that point, you will know what you are talking about.”

  “No need for disdain, Brand,” said Tylag.

  Brand took a deep breath, but he made no apology. “I’ll not leave the choice up to them. I know Uncle, this is hard to take from a youth, but I don’t think they can make this decision. They would want to keep it and would fight over who should try to wield it. Any of them that did might well end up like Dando. Either that, or they would want to trade it back to Oberon for a renewal of the Pact. I find both of these choices unacceptable.”

  Corbin nodded approvingly. “Your logic is accurate. I can’t see another result from the council.”

  Tylag shot his son a look of annoyance. He continued talking, but Brand could not do more than appear to listen. He tried hard to think about his uncle’s words calmly. He knew he was a wise man, but he also knew that Tylag really didn’t understand what the Jewels could do to a person. He understood his uncle’s point of view, but the argument remained.

  “You don’t want to try to use the Lavatis again yourself, do you Brand?” asked Tylag gently.

  Brand looked up. His uncle and cousin were leaning forward over the table, looking at him. He realized they knew he hadn’t even been listening.

  He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not,” Brand said. His voice lowered, and sounded almost haunted. “I never want to be the Rainbow again. There is madness in its eyes. And if you walk as the Rainbow, I think you lose a tiny bit of your sanity, permanently.”

  The others looked relieved and haunted by his words at the same time. Brand told them he had decided to leave Riverton and return to his own Isle.

  In truth, Riverton seemed oppressive to him now. He needed room and time to think.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Parlay

  When he finally did make it home, Jak welcomed him, but looked at him as if he didn’t know where his little brother had gone. He kept giving him sidelong, worried glances. Brand knew what was wrong. Brand Rabing wasn’t the same man at all.

  For a day or so, he knew relative peace. He had grown up, and the world had changed around him as much as he had. His home wasn’t the same as before, but it was still good. He felt he could breathe easily again, and that was a good thing. But this breathing space didn’t last long. Very soon, visitors began popping up. Brand would soon find there was no end to them and that as the Axeman, he was never going to have much peace in his life.

  Among the first visitors, and the most insistent, was Tomkin. Telyn had told Brand that after the Rainbow faded away and the rhinogs had retreated, Tomkin had recovered quickly. In typical Wee Folk fashion, however, he had not focused on gratitude for his life. Instead, he had fixated on the idea that Brand had made off with his Blue Jewel into limbo. Never mind that the Jewel had almost killed him and that if it hadn’t then the Rainbow, when it went mad, would surely have finished the job. What Tomkin wanted to know was where his Jewel was, and when Brand was going to hand it over.

  Not knowing what to do, he put off Tomkin, asking him to return at the end of the week. Hopping mad, quite literally, the wild little fellow had run out of the place in a huff. Brand didn’t blame him. But he just didn’t feel he could hand over Lavatis to the folk who had so recently run with Herla as the vanguard of his coursers. At least not without thinking about it.

  Before the week ended, he had several other visitors. Gudrin came next to the Isle and stumped up to his door. Brand threw it
open before she could raise a fist to knock. He smiled at her and threw his arms wide for a hug. She blinked, slightly shocked, but allowed him do to it. He gathered that hugging wasn’t something the Kindred did often, but he didn’t care.

  “I’m very glad you came, Gudrin. I need advice as never before.”

  Gudrin nodded and sighed once they were seated comfortably. Jak withdrew to the kitchen and busied himself with mugs of coffee.

  “I’m not surprised,” she said, “when one has wealth or power, that is when the decisions become the most difficult.”

  “Why is that?” Brand asked. He didn’t doubt her, but truly wanted to know her reasoning.

  “You see, when you truly have wealth, everyone needs you. That is when relatives come out of the stone itself needing a loan. This places the rich woman in the position of having to decide who gets help and who does not. She must decide who pays the rent, who eats and who starves. A poor woman has no such worries. Power of any kind works the same way. The more you have, the more others will seek it, and you must then decide how to distribute what you have.”

  Brand nodded, seeing her point. As a lowly river-boy no one had much cared about his opinion, and the good part of that was they weren’t angry with him if he didn’t agree with them. But now that his opinion carried such weight, everyone around him was anxious.

  “I’m finding new friends at my door every day,” he said.

  Gudrin chuckled. “I’m sure they are very friendly until you tell them ‘no’.”

  “Exactly,” said Brand. “But what I need help with today is what to do with the Blue Jewel. I’m assuming, of course, you are an impartial party in this matter.”

  “No, I’m not,” said Gudrin, shaking her head sadly. “I can make no such claim and I doubt few can. But at least I can tell you that the Kindred are not seeking ownership of the Blue Jewel. But neutrality? Of course we are not neutral! We are very interested in who gets the Jewel.”

  “All right then, I can accept your honest answer. Who do you wish to see with the Jewel after the dust settles?”