Exile's Gamble_The Chronicles of Shadow_Book II

by Lee Dunning

  They’d gained in strength if they could handle her armor without collapsing. Still, they sagged with relief once Raven collected the various pieces from them. Kela came trotting up from the direction of House of Memories. “You two forgot the most important stuff.” She dropped the arming doublet on top of the armor and handed the Shadow Elfess her sword. Raven stopped her stretching exercises to accept the oversized weapon and hefted it, enjoying its now familiar weight. She put it aside so she could start to fuss with the armor.

  “Don’t worry about all that,” Lady Culna’mo said. “Just throw on some padding—I can’t handle the suspense any longer. We’ll show everyone how real warriors fight.”

  Everyone? Raven swallowed as she stared around the arena. Every student and soldier had paused in their training to watch the two councilors. She hadn’t expected an audience. Inside her, Linden buzzed with excitement. He obviously had no reservations about public exhibitions.

  “So we dragged all that metal here for no reason?” one of the boys muttered.

  “Consider it part of your rehabilitation,” Kela snapped back and shooed the boys over to a wall where the three perched to get a good view.

  Raven pulled on the gambeson and Lady Culna’mo helped her get all the ties situated. When she was done, the First Born gave Raven a shove toward her sword. “Arm yourself, soldier,” she said.

  The grin pulling at Raven’s lips echoed Linden’s soul. Raven grasped her sword feeling something akin to happiness building inside her. The growing crowd forgotten, she swung around and charged Lady Culna’mo.

  Lady Culna’mo gave a great whoop and backpedaled, her face alight with a joy Raven couldn’t have understood a month prior. Their blades met, a little peck of a kiss, and they broke apart, gaining some distance, eyes intense as they sized one another up. Neither held a shield but wielded their weapons two-handed.

  The others in the arena gave up any pretense of practicing and gathered in a loose circle to enjoy the match. While Raven assumed most of the spectators were familiar with Lady Culna’mo’s skills, they didn’t know what to expect from a former Exile. Even holed up in Lady Sera’s house, Raven had heard some of the rumors and stories spreading across First Home about her. It didn’t surprise her none passed up the chance to see her in action.

  She put them out of her head. Linden’s presence filled her and she focused on her opponent. The First Born stood a head and a half taller than Raven, giving her the benefit of greater reach. Raven would have to close and try to take that advantage away from her.

  Raven sprang forward, throwing her weight behind her swing. The distance between them disappeared in an eye blink. Lady Culna’mo gave ground, trying to drain the force from Raven’s attack. Raven was the faster of the two and their weapons shrieked with the violence of their collision. Raven used her momentum to spin free and came around behind the First Born.

  Lady Culna’mo proved herself no stranger to the maneuver. As Raven spun, the First Born pivoted in place and brought her sword up in a counter sweep. Again, the blades screamed, and blue light arced.

  The two broke off only to launch themselves at each other. They collided, each trying to bowl over the other. Lady Culna’mo’s superior weight and strength put Raven at a disadvantage. Raven called on every muscle to push back and force Lady Culna’mo to fully commit.

  A roar rose from the crowd as Raven used her agility to bend back and away from the crushing power of the First Born. Only pure strength and training allowed Lady Culna’mo to turn what appeared a fatal mistake into a twirling kick that sent Raven skidding back. The First Born landed in a crouch and erupted into a teeth-jarring body slam. The smaller elf tumbled across the hard ground.

  A collective sigh of disappointment turned into gasps. Raven, in mid-tumble, pushed off with an arm and sprang to her feet. She used the momentum of her fall to keep moving even as her opponent desperately tried to close and finish the fight.

  Their swords met briefly but this time they slid away and the warriors came about, like mirrors of one another. They twitched and shifted, continually adjusting as they eyed their opponent. Raven worked to pull air into her heaving lungs.

  “Lord K’hul is right, you do fight like you trained on First Home,” Lady Culna’mo said.

  Raven’s eyes narrowed. “Is that the real reason you challenged me?” Air whistled through her teeth as tried to catch her breath. W’rath was right—Linden’s fighting technique suited someone bigger and stronger than her.

  Lady Culna’mo smirked. “Actually, I was more interested in learning about the person my brother died protecting.”

  Agony tore through Raven’s chest as a combination of her and Linden’s sorrow hit full force. A split second later Lady Culna’mo thundered into her. Unprepared, Raven crumpled under the blow, every bone and muscle in her body turned liquid. A broken puppet collided with the far wall. She shuddered, overwhelmed by shame, unable to bring herself to raise her head as Lady Culna’mo closed the distance to loom over her.

  Lady Culna’mo’s weapon rasped against the stone when she lay it down, and the creak of leather told Raven Linden’s sister had knelt in front of her. Raven sucked down a sob, but refused to lift her eyes.

  “Lady Raven?”

  The tentative words startled Raven enough she paused in her misery to try to pull her scattered emotions into order. She dragged her head up, forcing her brimming eyes to settle on Lady Culna’mo. She held nothing back. The First Born rocked back on her heels in the face of the naked anguish radiating from the fallen Shadow Elf. “I would give anything if he could be here in my place,” Raven said, her voice choked and husky.

  Lady Culna’mo’s hand flew to her mouth, a curiously feminine gesture for the formidable warrior. Her face crumpled. “Forgive me,” she whispered.

  Raven’s head dropped back down. Her hair fell across her face like a curtain. “You have nothing to forgive. I only knew Linden briefly but in that time I found him generous, kind and honorable. At the end he wished only for his mother to know he acted bravely.”

  Lady Culna’mo tried to laugh, but it came out as a tear-choked hiccup. She swallowed and composed herself. “That sounds like him. By the First, he couldn’t have lived with himself if he done anything else.”

  Leather creaked again as Lady Culna’mo rose. When Raven finally recovered enough to raise her head, she found a hand extended to her. As unworthy as she felt, she wouldn’t insult the warrior by refusing her. She clasped the proffered hand and rose unsteadily to her feet.

  From around them a roar of approval rose from the throats of the elves gathered there. The two started in surprise, having forgotten the rest of the world amidst their personal drama. Shields rang as sword pommels banged against them in a sort of warrior’s applause.

  Some of the mischief returned to Lady Culna’mo’s face and Raven wondered how she had ever missed the resemblance between her and Linden. “Care to escape?” the First Born asked.

  “Desperately,” Raven said.

  “You two,” Lady Culna’mo called to Ryld and Caeldan. Their eyes had grown enormous and grew larger still when they noted the attention directed at them. “You’ll see Lady Raven’s armor gets back where it belongs?”

  “Yes, ma’am!” they said. Kela shoved them off the wall to hurry them on their way.

  “Come on,” Lady Culna’mo said to Raven. “I want you to meet someone.”

  “Where are we going?” Raven asked after a time.

  Lady Culna’mo gestured at the sword still clutched in Raven’s hand. With all that had happened, she’d forgotten about it. “That thing is too damned big for you,” Lady Culna’mo said. “You fight well, great considering, but whoever trained you shouldn’t have taught you to fight like a First Born—it doesn’t suit you.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Raven said.

  “Lord W’rath?”

  “Of course.”

  Lady Culna’mo laughed at the Raven’s disgusted tone. “He’s a little guy
but he seems to know how to fight,” she said. “I’d listen to him.”

  “Once he recovers, I’m sure I will,” Raven said. Her stomach did a flip at the thought of training under Umbral K’hul. The stories she’d read about him hadn’t prepared her for the intense, irreverent elf she’d dealt with these past days. Equal parts terror and excitement rattled through her body.

  “Hey,” Lady Culna’mo said, pulling Raven out of her musings. “Are we okay? I truly am sorry about throwing that in your face back there. I had no idea…”

  “I’d fall apart?”

  Lady Culna’mo shrugged. “I meant to say something more diplomatic, but yeah.”

  “I had no idea Linden had a sister. He never mentioned his family,” Raven said.

  “That wouldn’t have helped,” the First Born said. “When I came of age I took my father’s name. Linden planned to take our mother’s name when he turned one hundred.”

  “That goes counter to everything I’ve heard about how your people come by their family names.” Raven said. It seemed every time she thought she had First Homes customs figured out she ran into an exception.

  Lady Culna’mo snorted in amusement. “We like bucking tradition. We alternate which child takes what name. When I clawed my way out of my mother, I was next in line to take on my father’s name.

  “We’ve just seen too many of the old families die out because one sex or the other didn’t get born for a couple of generations to carry on a particular name. Just look at the Stormchasers—the last one died during the attack on Second Home. Lord K’hul is the eldest of the direct line to the First and he’s not even a thousand. They’re so desperate his little sister took the K’hul name a few months back—angered her mother. But think about it. Lord K’hul could have easily died in Second Home along with his father, and then we’d have someone even younger and less experienced sitting as Voice of the First on the High Council. My family wants to avoid facing the same situation.”

  Raven’s eyebrows rose. With Umbral K’hul’s return from the Abyss, the true head of the K’hul clan had black skin and red eyes. She could only imagine what mayhem would follow if the truth came out.

  Lady Culna’mo apparently misunderstood Raven’s expression as agreement with her family’s naming tradition. “You see the sense. We may not be K’huls, but we have a proud lineage as well, and don’t want to see it sputter out. Admittedly, I’m a little disappointed to be stuck with my father’s name. Don’t get me wrong, I love him, and he’s impressive with a sword, but who’s ever heard of the Culna’mos? Now Earthfire—that’s a name people take notice of.”

  “Earthfire?” Raven let loose with a little gasp.

  “See? Even an Exile has heard of the Earthfire family. The family which boasts our people’s greatest weaponsmith—Amryth Earthfire.”

  “The creator of Shadow’s Edge,” Raven murmured, remembering the beautiful weapon W’rath had found waiting for him when they’d entered his office in House of Memories.

  “Shadow’s Edge?” Lady Culna’mo said.

  “Umbral called his weapon Shadow’s Edge. Supposedly, it was the greatest of Lord Earthfire’s pieces.” Raven watched her new friend’s face but saw no recognition.

  “Really?” Lady Culna’mo pinched her lower lip as if contemplating the news. “You’d think I might know something about that.” She laughed. “Maybe my family hopes everyone will forget we forged a weapon for the Fallen One.”

  Or maybe someone helped you along with that. She no longer had any doubt the curse of memory hung upon all of First Home. Even so, she thought it incredible the spell had the power to obliterate knowledge of a historic artifact—even from the family responsible for forging it. She considered the possibility the magic worked more thoroughly to wipe out knowledge of certain topics. When W’rath awoke, she would have to talk to him about sharing their discovery with Lady Swiftbrook. They needed an ally more knowledgeable about magic to help them destroy the curse.

  “We’re here,” Lady Culna’mo announced.

  Raven stared at the blocky structure she faced. It had an open front, and even at a distance heat rolled over her. The clang of a heavy hammer smashing into softened metal called out through the air. Raven’s brain finally latched onto the significance of what lay before her. She backed up a step. “Whose smithy is this?” The question came out as a hoarse croak.

  “Who do you think?” Lady Culna’mo said. “I’m not about to have a weapon made for you by an inferior smith. Cho’zen Earthfire is the best.”

  “Your mother.” Perspiration she couldn’t blame on the heat sprang out on Raven’s forehead.

  “Oh, stop,” Lady Culna’mo chided. Before Raven could escape, the blonde latched onto Raven’s arm and hauled her toward the smithy. “You’ll be fine. Trust me, if things go badly, you can outrun her.” She sounded much too cheerful about the entire situation.

  “I’m not sure I can face her,” Raven said.

  “You can. You’ve brought Linden’s sword home to her. She’ll be grateful to have it back. She’s wanted to meet you since you arrived.” Lady Culna’mo’s assurances did nothing to calm Raven.

  As they drew closer, the glow from the furnace revealed the intense face of a female First Born. She had the same severely cropped hair as Lady Culna’mo, presumably out of convenience for work at the forge. She wore a heavy leather vest and gauntlets. Her bare arms, all muscle and sinew, glistened as she worked. Her eyes flicked up from her work and she caught sight of the newcomers. She spoke briefly to a boy who stood by watching her work. He nodded and stepped in to take over. Cho’zen Earthfire pulled off her gauntlets and approached the new arrivals.

  When Cho’zen stepped out into the open Raven gasped before she could stop herself. One of the smith’s legs ended at the knee. An elaborately formed, wooden prosthetic had replaced it. A complex series of twining branches snaked up her thigh, securing it in place.

  Raven had never seen such a thing. An elf’s regenerative abilities should have made it impossible for the limb to remain a stump.

  Caught staring, Raven tried to look elsewhere, but the smith wasn’t fooled. “Don’t worry about it.” Cho’zen’s voice rumbled, deep and rough as if years spent within the smoky confines of a smithy had made her part dragon. “I’d stare in your place too. My daughter enjoys watching people’s reactions.”

  Raven shot Lady Culna’mo an exasperated glare, but the young First Born grinned. “I have to find my entertainment where I can,” she said.

  Lady Earthfire gave a long-suffering shake of her head. “Since Arien obviously didn’t see fit to inform you of my condition, you’re probably wondering how such a thing came to pass.”

  “Mother!” Lady Culna’mo said, true dismay entering her voice, “that’s my child name.”

  “How fitting,” came the curt reply.

  Lady Culna’mo sputtered indignantly and for the first time Cho’zen Earthfire smiled. The simple action transformed her face. She went from dour to radiant, and immediately the resemblance to Lady Culna’mo and Linden leapt out at Raven. The smith might hide it better, but she too carried a bit of imp inside her.

  Linden’s love for his mother glowed within Raven. She tried to imagine growing up with a mother who considered her more than a possession. She couldn’t.

  Lady Earthfire leaned back against a counter, and crossed her fake leg over her remaining flesh and blood one. “Let my story be a warning to you,” she began. “No matter how powerful or well-meaning, humans are a menace.”

  Raven’s eyes widened at the pronouncement. To her left, a still grousing Lady Culna’mo observed, “The tale gets more elaborate every time I hear it. So let me spare you. She got in a fight and lost her leg. While she lay unconscious, some human priest healed her, fouling up her body’s magic flow. No regeneration. No leg. End of story. But at least it got you to return to First Home and take up the family trade.” She cocked her head, addressing Raven. “In between hammer swings she deigned to have a c
ouple of children.”

  At the mention of children, Lady Earthfire winced, and she reached for the counter to steady herself. Lady Culna’mo may have thought her mother had dealt with Linden’s death but the pain practically radiated from the smith. For a moment, Raven thought her empathic ability had miraculously returned, but no, Cho’zen Earthfire’s carefully placed mask had simply slipped. Even a seasoned soldier and adventurer needed more than a few days to mourn the loss of her child.

  Oh, Mother.” Lady Culna’mo’s voice broke, and she started toward her mother, but the scarred warrior held up a hand to ward her off. “I’ve done nothing but put my foot in it today,” Lady Culna’mo said.

  Lady Earthfire shook her head and drew herself up. “Don’t worry about it, Arien. You can’t tiptoe around me for fear of saying the wrong thing. You and Linden never could repress your tongues and I have no desire for you to change.”

  The smith gave Raven an approving look. “I heard how you saved all those people from the devil lord. I’m proud that in giving his life, my son made it possible for you to do the impossible. Not even Lord K’hul could have single-handedly defeated a being so powerful.”

  Raven’s throat grew tight as if invisible hands strangled her. When she tried to speak, her voice came out in a tight rasp, but she forced herself to continue. “Linden’s courage in the face of terrible odds never faltered. Even before we ran into the devils, he killed dozens of demons. Shadow Elves have a reputation as unwavering warriors but the truth is, I was terrified. He kept me going.”

  “You had no weapon?” Cho’zen Earthfire’s words held no accusation. No doubt, she simply wished to confirm what she’d already heard—the guards of Second Home would have never allowed an Exile to enter the city armed.

  “When we escaped the library, one of the soldiers gave me a wand with several charges left on it. Given the circumstances, I expect his conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave me defenseless. He also imbued Linden’s sword with a temporary glamour.” With that, Raven stepped forward and fell to one knee, presenting Linden’s sword to Lady Earthfire.