Nightblade: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 1)

by Robinson, Garrett

  All the while, her voice played at a high, strident pitch. Guards up and down the line of wagons came closer, drawn by the commotion. She saw many of them smiling, amused by her ungainly swings. Best of all, Gregor still did not draw his steel. No one spied danger in her wild flailing.

  The guard came forward, and again Loren fled. She drew him farther from the wagon near the end of the line. Now no one stood close. A flash of purple told her that Annis had gained the wagon.

  “Come, Sir Lord Captain Commander King! Teach me! You will not find a more willing student.” Loren faced off against Gregor from ten yards away and swung the sword in two interlocking circles. “Meet me with a riposte, if you can, or whatever you call it.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see if any guards approached from behind and was surprised to find Damaris. The merchant stood near her carriage at the head of the line, her eyes fixed intently on Loren. Her face broke into a small smile.

  “Your lady laughs at you,” said Loren. “You should defend your honor.” The other guard lunged again. She spun clear at the last second. The movement nearly made her drop the sword, but she rescued it before it fell.

  At last, she had chosen her words unwisely. She heard the sharp hiss of a drawn sword and turned to see the tip of Gregor’s blade.

  Steeling her nerves, Loren smiled. “At last! Do you mean to teach me, master?” She leapt aside to avoid another attempt by the guard to recover his weapon. Her foot lashed out, tangled with his, and sent the man crashing to the dirt. “I warn you, I will not go easy on you.”

  Gregor advanced upon her with measured, resolute steps. “I have warned you. Your fool’s tongue will not spare you.”

  Hate and fury heated his glare, the first true emotions Loren had seen in him since her arrival at the caravan. But over his shoulder, she saw another flash of purple cloth with gold brocade, this time moving away from the wagon. Loren had done her job. She dropped the sword, and it sank point first into the ground.

  “Very well. If you do not mean to teach me, I shall press upon you no further.”

  Gregor did not answer, nor stop. Loren scarcely had time to think, He truly means to kill me before the air whistled with his blade. She dropped to the ground, rolling away as it cut through the air where her head had been.

  “Gregor!”

  Damaris’s sharp voice cracked like a whip. Gregor froze as he stood above her, eyes snapping to his lady. He drew three deep breaths while Loren waited on her belly.

  “She makes you look a fool, and you allow it to anger you? Do you act upon the whim of a girl not yet come to womanhood?”

  I have, too!

  She held the thought, knowing its voice might mean death.

  Gregor returned his sword to its scabbard in a single fluid motion and bowed to Damaris, his face an emotionless mask once again. “Of course not, my lady. I only acted because I thought her a threat.”

  “This one? A threat?” Damaris scoffed. “Return to your duties. All of you.”

  The other guards drifted away and back to their posts. Loren heard more than a few chuckle as they went. Her eyes rose to meet Gregor’s. She could not mistake the fire burning within him, or consider herself safe in his presence. But with any luck, Loren need not worry after today.

  “Thank you for the lesson, master,” she said softly.

  Gregor turned and stalked off without a word. Loren rose and went to find Annis.

  fifteen

  They spotted the Cabrus walls as the sun hung low in the sky, bathing Loren’s right side in a soft orange glow. Nerves roiled her blood, and she hunched her shoulders lower.

  She walked near the carriages, in plain sight of both Damaris and Annis, under Gregor’s baleful glare. As the walls loomed taller, Damaris’s carriage swerved left to draw near. The merchant disembarked and walked beside Loren.

  “You will stay safe if you remain unnoticed,” she said. “They will not recognize you in your new cloak. Keep the hood drawn about your face, and we will pass through the gate without incident.”

  “Yes, my lady. And thank you.” Loren had to force sincerity into her voice.

  Damaris nodded and returned to her carriage. Just behind it, Gregor glared at Loren from horseback. She stuck out her tongue and aimed it at him.

  She let her eyes rove to the second carriage and saw Annis peeking out from the door’s window. The girl looked terrified, and Loren’s own fears rose to fever pitch. She had to rely on Annis, with no time to turn from her course or plan a new one.

  They drew closer still. Loren’s heart sank into her boots as she scanned the wall.

  Corin and Bern stood before the gate. Loren recognized them immediately, the one short and broad, the other tall and slender but no less muscular. She ducked her head on instinct and dutifully studied her feet. Her steps wandered right as if by accident, drifting closer to Damaris’s carriage.

  “My lady! They are here!”

  Damaris looked out from her window. “Who, child?”

  “The constables. The ones who pursued me.”

  Damaris leaned out to look ahead. “My eyes are not what they used to be. The two before the gate?”

  “With the red leather pauldrons, aye.”

  Damaris pursed her lips for a moment. “This complicates things. Still, we should have nothing to fear. Fall behind Annis’s carriage, and let me confer with Gregor.”

  Loren did as ordered, though she could almost feel Damaris’s hidden intent. Annis looked out her window as Loren walked by.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The constables,” said Loren. “Those who pursued me. They are here.”

  “What for? I thought they wanted the wizard, not you.”

  “They must have had little luck finding him and decided to guard the road against me instead.”

  “Then mother will place you into their hands for certain.”

  “Not if we carry out our plan as discussed. Are you ready?”

  “How does one ready for this?” said Annis. “But yes.”

  The carriage door swung open, and Annis came out to walk beside Loren. Her face seemed somehow pale beneath its dark coloring, and her eyes flitted about.

  “You look nervous,” Loren said in a murmur.

  “I am nervous!”

  “But you must not show it. Come, tell me of the High King’s Seat. Speak as you often do when we walk.”

  Annis thought for a moment, her mouth hanging open, and shook her head. “I cannot. I can scarcely remember what the place looks like. My thoughts reside here, now, and I am not overjoyed at our chances.”

  Loren thought her heart might collapse. If Annis lost her nerve, Loren was finished. The merchant’s daughter would carry on, but Loren would find herself in the constables’ hands.

  “You must not lose heart,” said Loren. “Without me, how long before you have another chance to escape? What if they discover your mother in that time? They will cast your family down and throw you in chains or the stocks. Do you think your age will save you? You will meanwhile bear witness to betrayal and death, powerless to stop it.”

  Without answering, Annis clutched a bulge at her side under her cloak, hiding a package wrapped in brown cloth.

  “That is better,” said Loren, hoping she spoke the truth. “Come now. Courage.”

  Gregor pulled up to walk beside them. The walls stood dangerously close, and Loren was too exposed under the eyes of Corin and Bern. The captain spoke without looking at her.

  “My lady commands you to walk by her daughter’s carriage. You will pose as her lady in waiting.”

  “But I will be in plain sight,” said Loren. “The constables will recognize me for certain.”

  Gregor glared at her. “I bring my lady’s orders, not an opportunity for debate. The carriage. Now.”

  Loren swallowed hard and let Annis guide her to the carriage. But the girl did not climb aboard again, electing to walk.

  The caravan halted before the gate. There, only
thirty feet away, stood the constables who had pursued Loren for days. Behind them stood several guards, with more posted along the wall. Loren thought of the arrow Bern had loosed at her and failed to suppress a shudder. She peered at the constables from below her cowl, desperate not to show her face.

  “Well met again,” said Corin. “What news from the road?”

  “Precious little,” said Damaris, leaning out to speak from her carriage window. “And in the city?”

  “Little as well,” said Corin. “Tell me: Where is our brother constable? We sent him north to meet you, for he thought that mayhap we had not questioned you as closely as we might.”

  “We met him upon the road,” said Damaris. “He put us to the search, and rode away north after finding nothing.”

  Corin and Bern traded glances. Then Bern said, “Why would he ride north, and not south to inform us?”

  Damaris dismissed him with a laugh. “You ask me? What could I know of his aims and intent?”

  “Mayhap he never reached you,” said Bern, his voice a low growl. “Or mayhap he did, and took coin to leave.”

  Loren felt a presence and looked up to see Gregor looming behind her. She stood within easy reach of his long arms. She pictured them leaping out to wrap her in a death embrace.

  “Your men must tarnish easily, if you so quickly suspect bribery.”

  Bern acted as if Damaris had not spoken. “Or mayhap he lies in a cold ditch somewhere along the road, a concern to you no longer.”

  Damaris scoffed again. “Do you think I would raise my hand against the King’s law?”

  “It runs in your blood,” spat Bern. Corin raised his hands and tried calming his partner, but the taller constable would not subside. “Tell us where he is, or I swear I will put you to the question.”

  “You would threaten a friend to the crown?” Damaris spoke lightly as if asking after the constable’s family.

  “My partner speaks hastily, my lady,” said Corin. “We have had no luck finding the wizard, and the search wears us thin.”

  “Friend to the crown?” Bern snapped. “What have you ever done to earn that title, you leech?”

  “Why, I have brought you both a mighty gift,” Damaris said.

  Loren felt a shifting behind her and knew the moment had arrived. “Annis, now!”

  She leapt forward and felt the tail end of her cloak slip through Gregor’s grasping fingers.

  Annis drew back her arm and let fly. The package of brown cloth sailed through the air. For a moment, Loren feared it would fall short of its target, but Annis had a surprisingly strong arm. The package landed perfectly between Damaris’s carriage and the constables, bursting open as it landed. Loren caught a flash of glistening black as a cluster of obsidian crystals spilled across the ground.

  A pregnant silence stretched. Then many things happened at once.

  The constables cried out in unison and drew their blades, as did the men behind them. A guard blew a horn atop the wall. The men on the ground rushed Damaris’s carriage, and Gregor’s men surged forward to meet them. The air rang with the clash of steel. Gregor screamed in fury and charged the constables and their men, momentarily forgetting Loren and Annis.

  Loren seized Annis’s hand in hers and ran for the girl’s carriage. The dagger leapt into her hand before she could think to draw it, and she slashed at the leather binding the lead horse to its harness.

  The driver cried out in alarm, but Loren ignored him. Clashing steel made the horse whinny in fright, and it nearly bolted. Loren jumped back, but Annis pressed forward. She took the harness in her hands like reins and put a hand on the horse’s neck, whispering soothing words.

  The driver started to climb down from his perch. Loren vaulted toward him, her dagger held forward. She thrust it at the space between his legs, and the man yelped as he flew back to his seat.

  “Stay where you are! Next time, I strike true.” It was a lie, but the man believed her and did not move again.

  The horse had calmed. Loren flung herself onto its back and leaned down to drag Annis up after her, but in front where her long years of riding would help most. Annis kicked her heels into the horse’s flanks. Loren nearly pitched off the back, stopping herself only by clutching the girl’s body with both hands.

  At first, the horse swerved, heading right for the fighting. Loren screamed incoherently, and Annis dragged her reins to the right. The mount turned aside at the last moment, passing the edge of men swirling in battle around Damaris’s carriage.

  Gregor turned to stare in astonishment. They passed close enough for Loren to lash out with her boot. His nose crunched under the sole, and he fell.

  They fled as fast as they could. Behind them, Loren heard Damaris’s voice erupt in rage and anguish as her daughter sped away from her forever.

  “We will ride around the city!” Loren shouted over the thundering hooves, grunting after every other word—riding a horse hurt more without a saddle. “Then stay on the road south and make for the next one. Or perhaps hide in woods nearby while we think of where to go.”

  “We can’t,” said Annis. “It’s too far to the next city on one horse. Mother will catch us for certain. And they say bandits roam these woods.”

  “We cannot enter the city,” said Loren, aghast.

  “We must. We shall come in by another gate, before word has had time to spread. Easier to hide among a thousand people than ten thousand trees, or so I have heard. We will hide until we find secure passage from the city. I have coin.”

  She dug into a pocket and pulled out a purse. Annis placed it in Loren’s hand, and then dug out another to jiggle it between her fingers. She glanced at Loren over her shoulder, an impish grin lighting her features.

  “And that is not all. Look.”

  She dug within her pocket again and withdrew a second package wrapped in brown cloth.

  Loren’s breath hissed between her teeth. “I fear you have stolen something far more dear than coin.”

  “If others value it so highly, that is to our advantage.”

  “And here I meant to be the thief. You take to it most naturally.”

  Annis laughed, and they rode on.

  Soon, the horse had carried them to another gate, this one on the south and west side of the city. Many people crowded this avenue, unlike the King’s road that had lain empty. Annis skillfully guided the horse into line between two wagons, one loaded high with hay, the other filled with caged chickens.

  “Cabrus has a large district where the people are poor and the constables lax in their patrols,” said Annis, speaking quietly. “We will find an inn there, the sort where the master does not ask many questions. Then we will seek out some traveler or trader who means to leave the city and buy our passage with him.”

  “Whom can we trust? Anyone who hears of your mother will turn us over for the reward she will surely bring.”

  Annis bit her lower lip. “I had not thought of that. But no matter. We will think of something.”

  They passed through the gate without incident. The guards took one look at Annis’s fine dress and Loren’s black cloak, nodding as they waved them through. One guard gave a curious look at the horse’s lack of saddle, but beyond that they ignored the girls. Loren realized with some surprise that the guards thought her a girl of noble birth. That felt curious.

  Once inside, Loren dismounted and walked beside the horse, relieved not to feel the creature’s spine slapping between her legs. Though at first she glanced over her shoulder and peered doubtfully around every corner, her eyes soon drew up and around to stare at the city.

  Loren knew she had visited Cabrus once as a child, but only because adults had told her. She could remember nothing of the place. Now she could not imagine how people lived here. Buildings pressed against each other, some sharing walls. Some stood only a single level, while others had second floors hanging over the street. Loren yelped and dodged as someone emptied a pot out a window into the street beside her. A wave of stench
declared it a chamber pot.

  “Is this the poor district?” she said, tugging on Annis’s dress.

  “This? No, of course not.” Annis looked down at Loren from the horse, nonplussed.

  “But then why—”

  Loren could not finish her thought, for strong hands seized her from behind. One gripped her left hand; the other seized her right shoulder.

  “Greetings, Loren of the family Nelda,” hissed Bern’s cruel voice in her ear.

  Loren had no time to think and acted upon the first thought to cross her mind. She reached out and slapped the mount’s rump as hard as she could. The beast whinnied and tore off, speeding down the cobbled street and out of sight.

  “After it!” cried Bern. Several men in leather armor pursued the horse down the street. Bern whirled Loren around, and she saw Corin standing with several others.

  “Welcome to Cabrus.” Corin’s eyes were grim. “You have much to answer for.”

  sixteen

  Loren slipped, her boots scrabbling on the cobblestones as she pitched to the ground. Bern tightened his vice-like grip on her shoulder, dragging her back to standing as she winced with pain.

  “Keep your feet, lest you lose them,” he growled.

  Fear scattered her thoughts. How had the constables found her so quickly? Where would they take her? The unfairness cut her to the bone. It was Xain they pursued, and the wizard who should be in their clutches now.

  “I do not know where the wizard is,” she pleaded. “Let me go. I have done nothing.”

  Bern did not reply. Loren looked to Corin. The shorter constable’s eyes met hers. His glare seemed resolute, but not so hateful as Bern’s. If she would find leniency with either of them, it would be with Corin.

  “I am only a forester’s daughter. What do you want from me?”

  Corin’s mouth turned down. “We have questions. You would do well to answer them honestly.”

  “I have told you, I know nothing!” said Loren.

  She searched the streets around her for succor, halfway hoping that Annis might return with a plan for her rescue. But Loren had sent Annis’s horse running, and in her heart of hearts she did not expect the girl’s return.