The Shadow Roads tsw-3

by Sean Russell

  “I don’t know what use a boar would have with my sparebreeches,” Fynnol said, “but clearly one of these foul beasts made off withthem.” He was rooting about in the bushes on the edge of the darkness. “That’sprobably why they attacked-not a stitch to wear among the lot of them.”

  The men who had come to their rescue were obviously the menfrom the giants’ keep, the men the Dubrell had gone to such pains to hide. Thestrangers kept glancing at Alaan and the others, their gazes filled withquestions.

  Two of the giant boars lay dead not far from the fire, andTam could see them now. They were gray-skinned, short-legged, and armed withtusks like daggers.

  “Shall we spit one and roast it?” Fynnol asked, coming up besideTam, who stood staring at one of the monsters.

  “You won’t want to eat them,” one of the riders said, hisaccent not so thick as the giants’. “The meat is foul and will give you thebelly torment. Some people it’s killed.”

  Tam turned away from the beast and came back to the fire,cool rain streaming down his face and neck, soaking his clothing. On the edgeof the small clearing, Wolfson was speaking with the man Tam guessed was theleader of the riders. Their impenetrable accent kept Tam from understandingtheir words, but it was clear they were arguing, and the man was red-faced withanger.

  Some riders had posted themselves as guards around the camp’sperimeter, but the others gathered with the outlanders around the fire. Thedownpour had slowed to light drizzle so that the drying power of the fire wasjust greater than the rain’s ability to make them wet. There was no otherconversation in the camp, and no one would look at the giant and the angryrider, but all ears strained to pick up what was being said above the drummingrain and the harshly moaning wind.

  With a final shouted word, the rider turned and stalkeddirectly to the fire. He took a seat on an empty saddle, which had obviouslybeen set out for him, and stared a moment at the flames. Tam thought the manwas trying to calm himself.

  Wolfson did not move, but watched the men seated around thefire, his face filled with concern.

  The captain of the riders looked up from the flames. “So youhave come from the land beyond,” he said evenly.

  Alaan nodded, glancing once at Wolfson, who stood in thedark and rain, alone. A wolf trotted up and licked the giant’s hand, as thoughit sensed his need for comfort.

  “From the land of men …?” the rider said.

  “Yes,” Alaan admitted, “from the land of men.”

  This caused a stir among the riders, who glanced one to theother, as though Alaan had confirmed something miraculous.

  “Our ancestors came from the land of men,” the rider said. “Eightgenerations my people have dwelt here, in Borenfall. Orlem Slighthand led myancestors here to aid the Dubrell, and we have been here ever since.”

  “Slighthand!” Alaan said, surprised. Tam could see thetraveler in the firelight, rain like dewdrops on his beard, running down hisface like tears. His eyes darted from one rider to the next as though he wereweighing them-weighing the truth of this last statement.

  Slighthand!

  “You know of Slighthand?” the captain asked.

  “I know of Slighthand,” Alaan agreed. “Why did he bring yourpeople here? Were you mercenaries?”

  The captain of the riders shared a glance with the manbeside him. “We were members of a knightly order that Orlem Slighthand hadfounded with another named Kilydd. Orlem had become lost in the land of men,where he met a sorcerer who gave him the power to travel hidden lands. TheDubrell were besieged by men from the south, and Orlem brought my people to aidthe Dubrell, whose enemy was cunning and ruthless. We have dwelt here since, onlands the Dubrell granted us.” He pointed. “Not far to the east. OrlemSlighthand promised that we would one day return to the lands of men.”

  “It is a only a story,” Wolfson said, coming and standingover the men seated by the fire-looming over them.

  Tam realized then that the giants had been hiding hiscompany from the riders-not the other way around.

  “But you are Knights of the Vow,” Fynnol said. “Isn’t thattrue?”

  The riders all stared at this new voice, but none of them answered.

  “We found a token of the Knights of the Vow in the courtyard,”Alaan explained. “A small broach made in the form of a fan of sil-veroakleaves. It is the token of a knightly order in the lands of men.”

  The riders shifted in their seats, not meeting Alaan’s gaze.

  “Don’t speak of this matter, if you’d rather not,” Alaansaid. “How many of your people are there?”

  “Six thousand,” the captain said. “Two thousand aremen-at-arms.”

  “Would you leave us now,” Wolfson cried, “in our greatestneed?”

  “Eight generations we have given to your struggle!” thecaptain spat out. “We would go to the land of men, where there is peace.”

  Alaan sat back and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Thesame enemy threatens our lands. The same war spreads everywhere. I know nothingof your accord with the Dubrell, but it appears to me that your part in the waris to fight here. When the war is over, I will come and lead you back to theland of men, or I will send another to do so.”

  Wolfson turned away, as though a sudden pain coursed throughhim.

  The captain of the riders rose up from his saddle to standbefore Alaan. “This war does not end,” he said firmly. “We could come with younow.”

  Alaan shook his head. “I travel south, into the borderlandsof the shadow kingdom-”

  “You will not return from that place,” the rider said,distressed. “It is the place of nightmares, of unspeakable horrors.” He waved ahand at the giant boar that lay two dozen feet away. “These are the least ofthe monsters that come from the south. The Hand of Death will steal the lifefrom you. You will lead no one back to the land of men, for you will be drawninto the darkness.”

  Alaan shrugged. “I have traveled into the borderlands ofDeath’s kingdom once before. I returned unharmed. I see no reason why Ishouldn’t do so again.”

  “The borderlands were quiet then,” Wolfson interjected. “Thethreat was small. Now monstrosities appear on dark nights. And newmonstrosities far too often. My people die defending our borders.” He gesturedto the captain. “Nathron’s people die.”

  “Even so, that is where I must go. The safety of all ourpeoples depends on it.” He stood and looked the captain of the Knights in theeye. “I will return for you. Or send another. I swear.”

  Eleven

  They lay in the long grass, trying not to breathe. Lord Carllooked over at Jamm, his battered face turning slowly crimson. With ribs thatwere either broken or badly bruised, thanks to the ministrations of the Dukeof Vast, Jamm could hardly keep his breathing quiet. Carl was terrified thatthe thief would cough and give them away, for he had coughed much the nightbefore.

  A dozen feet off, a small company of men-at-arms had stoppedto water their horses. They wore the livery of the House of Vast and were,almost certainly, searching for Carl and Jamm.

  The dawn had only just broken, the coarse grass slick withdew, the ground beneath them a cushion of moss. They had slept here for a fewshort hours, Jamm unable to continue. Their stolen mount had been abandoned inthe night, set loose in a field with some other horses in hopes that she wouldnot be discovered for some hours yet.

  We should have cut her throat and left her in a wood, Carlthought, somewhere she wouldn’t be found for a day or two. If she were foundthat day, Vast would know where to send his men-at-arms. Escape would be nearlyimpossible with Jamm so injured. What a beating he had taken!

  But even so, the little thief’s instincts remained intact.He reasoned that the Duke would assume they would go to Kel Renne. Best to dosomething unexpected, that was the rule Jamm lived by-do the unexpected. Sothey set out for the river, hoping to cross over and make their way toWestbrook. The Isle was large enough that Vast could not keep it all under hiseye at once. And Jamm was clever enough to keep them out of sight for some
timeyet, unless luck turned on them-which it might at any moment if the little mancoughed.

  “They won’t have gone this far,” one of the men-at-arms saidfirmly. He had a deep voice, thick and heavy like the rumble of distantthunder. “That little thief couldn’t go more than half a league, even onhorseback. We saw to that.”

  The others laughed.

  Carl saw Jamm bury his mouth in the sleeve of his jacket.

  Don’t cough, Carl willed him. Don’t cough...

  “Who’s this, then?” one of the others asked.

  Carl heard the men all rise to their feet, swords slippingfrom scabbards.

  “Ah,” the deep-voiced one said,” ’tis only some Renne,hoping to find the last few men of Innes to hone their blades on.”

  Carl dared not look at his guide, fearing what he would see.

  The Duke’s men greeted the Renne.

  “So what game has Carl A’denne been playing?” one of thenewcomers asked.

  Carl could hear the stir of excitement among the horsesbeing watered as the other horses appeared. The grass stirred over him in thebreeze, and a wren scolded. He felt like it was only a matter of time, perhapsonly a moment, before they were discovered. Jamm could not run, and how farwould Carl get, chased by mounted men? He closed his eyes and tried to calm hisheart. It was over. They had only this last moment of freedom.

  “Seems he was spying for the Prince of Innes, or so we surmise.But he must have been playing both sides. He came over the canal the othernight with a little thief guiding him. Someone knew the thief by name, and Vastsoon had the story from him. A’denne and his thieving friend slipped away bynight, a sure sign of his guilt, I say.”

  “Well,” the Renne said, “we’ll soon have the story from A’dennehimself.”

  “Not if we find him first,” the Duke’s man growled. His companyall laughed.

  “We’ve been ordered to bring him to Lord Kel alive,” theRenne said.

  “We’ve been promised a reward to bring back his head andleave his body for the crows,” the man of Innes answered. There was silence fora moment, and Jamm coughed.

  He’d muffled the sound as best he could, but not wellenough.

  “What was that?” one of the men asked.

  Carl heard blades being drawn, followed by footsteps throughthe long grass.

  Jamm looked at him, eyes wide. He knew he couldn’t run.Would the men of Innes kill them before the Renne could intercede?

  Suddenly something shot through the grass.

  “There!” someone yelled.

  Carl rose to his hands and knees, prepared to fight or run.

  A small pig flew out of the grass onto the road, and the menof Innes took after it. Swords flashed, and the pig squealed and screamed. Thelittle animal dodged this way and that, as the men flailed away at it, finallylanding a blow and spraying them with blood. The pig still ran, and a secondblow brought it down, but it was up again, struggling forward on three legs. Itonly went a few feet before one of the shouting men raised a sword over hishead, two-handed, and finished the little animal. The men were all laughingand pointing at the swordsmen who’d missed.

  A wind sprang up then, combing through the grass. Carl andJam went crawling off, the sound of their progress lost in the wind and thecruel hissing of the fields.

  Twelve

  Dease noted each of his visits to Lady Llyn Renne in theback of a book. He did this so that he could not lie to himself about thefrequency of their talks. There were reasons of decorum that would justify thisscrupulous accounting-you simply didn’t visit a lady too often unless you werebetrothed. But that wasn’t really his concern; he didn’t want to appearfoolish before Llyn. Everyone in the castle knew that she loved Toren. It wasDease’s fondest hope that she would one day see the futility of her feelingsfor Toren, then Dease might woo and win her affections.

  But now he had heard another rumor; while he was away, Llynhad often been visited by Lord Carral Wills, and she had allowed him into hergarden and met with him face-to-face.

  A feeling like falling came over him, and he could not helpbut shut his eyes. The darkness brought no comfort. Unlike Dease, Lord Carralwas blind. The minstrel could never look upon Llyn’s scarred face. She did notknow that the people who loved her cared not at all about her appearance, nomatter how terrible she thought it herself.

  Dease didn’t care, that was certain. The longing to be inher presence, to be near to her, was at times unbearable. He would lie awakenights thinking of nothing else. He dreamed of Llyn, of seeing her face forthe first time. In some dreams she was hideous beyond bearing-and he would runaway, down long endless hallways. In other dreams her beauty was dazzling.Sometimes he dreamed that he traveled far, and against great odds, found a curefor her burns, and carried it back to her.

  But these were dreams. In real life, he kept count of howoften he visited so he should not appear too foolish-like an infatuated boy.

  A maid curtsied him out onto the balcony, where he stood,gazing over the walled garden. By day, he had never seen it. By night it was amysterious place, filled with shadows and unrecognizable shapes in shades ofgray. Lavender was the scent of the place, and a small tinkle of running waterwas its voice. That, and the sighs and whispers of the trees.

  Dease gazed down into the shadows, starlight glinting offthe water of a small pool. He struggled with the feelings inside of him, as healways did in this place.

  “Ah, Lord Dease,” came Llyn’s lovely voice. It stabbed intohim like a blade-then the pain dissolved into an ache.

  “Lady Llyn,” Dease said softly.

  “I cannot tell you how happy I was to hear that you’d returned.”

  “And that Toren had returned with me, no doubt.”

  A small hesitation. “Yes … I was happy to hear of Toren’sreturn, as well.”

  Movement caught his eye. She was there, beneath the thin foliageof a lace maple. Her famous blond hair caught his eye, and he remembered thescent of it-that night they’d danced, she in costume and carefully masked.

  He shut his eyes a moment and breathed in the scent of lavender.

  “Lord Carral is a guest of Castle Renne, I’ve been told?”

  “Yes,” she said, her voice soft and tentative. “He hasbecome our ally, as you’ve no doubt heard.”

  “So I understand.” Dease read much into her voice, into thepauses, the little inflections, the warmth with which she said a name. Later hewould revisit each little nuance, wondering what they meant. Pondering themover and over, until he had made so many interpretations of her words that hewould finally lose all sense of what she might have truly meant.

  “There are rumors all around the castle that you traveled tosome distant place and saw magic performed …”

  “We did not appear to travel far-a few days’ journey-but wewere in strange lands all the same. It all seems like a dream, now-or anightmare.”

  “And did you meet a rogue there who called himself Alaan?”

  Dease was taken aback by this. “Has someone told you of ourjourney already?”

  “No one has. But you did meet such a man?”

  Dease moved his hand on the smooth railing, gazing down intothe dark, trying to make sense of this new interest. “Well, I would not say Imet him. He was ill nearly unto death and hardly able to mutter a few wordsmost of the time, let alone carry on a conversation.”

  “Then Toren did save him?”

  “No more than a number of other people. We all foughtHafydd, who sought this Alaan to murder him.”

  “How utterly strange,” Llyn’s voice drifted up from beneaththe canopy of leaves. A moment she was silent, the soft whispering of the windin the branches, like some languorous speech, too slow for man to comprehend.But then, Dease thought, the trees had so many years to live, why should theyhurry like short-lived humans?

  “And Samuel and Beldor; did you ever find them?”

  “Yes. Toren granted them immunity, as long as they neveragain set foot on Renne lands.”


  She seemed to consider this a moment. “It is like Toren tobe compassionate, but not at the cost of justice. What transpired, I wonder, tolead him to make such a decision?”

  “It was very simple, really: we needed Samul and Beld tofight Hafydd and his … supporters.”

  “Ah,” Llyn said. “The Renne have made many such alliances inour history. Some for good. Some for ill.”

  He could almost feel her staring up at him through theleaves, and he was suddenly uncomfortable, almost embarrassed.

  “What became of Samul and Beld?”

  “No one knows. It is something of a miracle that Toren and Isurvived and found each other. Many, I fear, were lost, including Samul andBeld, which would be for the better, in many ways.”

  “I suppose it would, though I would dearly like to know whatthey were thinking, trying to murder Toren.” He saw her thick cascade of hairshake in the starlight.

  “Beld did not need to think; he hated Toren completely. Samul…? Well, who ever knew what Samul was thinking?”

  “I did not know him well,” Llyn said, “but it would seem tobe true. He was a hidden man. I wonder how many people came away fromconversations under the impression that Samul agreed with them, when he did notat all? There was never any truth to him. Nothing revealed. I wonder what madehim so?”

  The question did not seem to really be addressed to Dease,but he tried to answer it all the same.

  “I don’t know, Cousin,” Dease said. “He was always thus.Even when we were children, or so I think now.”

  “I shall have to hear the story of your adventure in itsentirety sometime. I am delighted to see you have returned unharmed. And theblow to your head that you suffered trying to save Toren?”

  “It is healed. The headaches gone”-he raised his hands, andsmiled-“as if by magic.”