“Let’s see Nameless help you now,” Merek said.
The door crashed open and cast sunlight into Aeryn’s tiny house. Merek took one look back, spat on the Shade’s corpse, sheathed his blade, and then walked out.
The place was ruined. No, it was beyond ruined; it was a rubbish heap of splattered blood, gore and bodily fluids.
“Why?” Aeryn croaked. A minute ago Lord Merek had been about to kill her, now it was leaving when a child could finish the job.
He stopped beneath the frame. “You saved my life, I saved yours. Our debts are paid.” With that, he strode into the street and vanished.”
Alone, head spinning, limbs aching, mind reeling, Aeryn crawled to Jynx. She breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the draven’s heartbeat. She broke into tears of joy when she saw his chest rise and fall. He would live.
But for how long? For that matter, how long did she have? The darkness, once so comforting and concealing, had pulled back and revealed a dangerous labyrinth of swords and traps, pitfalls and snares, none of which she had known were there a day ago.
She had to figure out what the bloody hell had just happened.
3
Move or Die
Aeryn bit hard on the fabric wrapped dowel. A muffled scream escaped despite teeth sunk into the wood.
“Hold still,” Rickon admonished. “I’m almost done.”
The needle—it felt like an oar—passed through again, and again, and again. Aeryn’s head spun, and not from the overflowing mug of watered ale she had gulped a minute ago.
“There. Done.”
Aeryn spit the bit to the ground and sat panting. Sweat ran down her face. Her back stung like a hundred angry bees had gone to work on it. The skin at the base of her skull, split from when she had slammed into the wall of her shack, throbbed in time with her pulse.
“Oh shoot. I forgot one thing,” Rickon said. He upended a cup over her back.
For one blissful moment, the cool liquid soothed and washed away the pain. The moment broke and she screamed. Her back was a carpet of searing flame. The horses danced in their stalls and neighed madly.
“What was that for?” she asked when she could speak again.
At her side, Jynx looked up with heavily lidded eyes. Thankfully, the draven had only had a number of glancing cuts in his hide. Though shallow, they had bled profusely. The sheer number of them had drained the draven’s energy. Plenty of rest, no strenuous activity, and he should be back on his feet in a few days.
“Sorry. I had forgotten to clean it.” Rickon frowned. “I was distracted thinking about you being a Shadow.”
“I am not a Shadow,” Aeryn said. Shadows were evil, horrific creatures that hunted in the darkness, unable to show their faces in daylight. Shadows were the very reason Shades existed. The right hand of the Voices, themselves the right hand of Nameless, Shades protected Maerilin from the Shadows. Only, no matter how hard she tried, the images of the previous day and night would not leave her mind.
Rickon looked down at his feet and scrubbed his hands together. “It’s just, well. . .”
“It’s just what?” Reaching out for her shirt, she winced as she pulled it over her head. The wool cloth was not much more than a handful of loose stitches by this point, but every blasted one of them managed to snag on the fresh stitches.
Eyes still locked on his feet, Rickon’s words came out in a rush. “It’s just that I don’t think you should come around here anymore. I pay my tithes like every good person. But no amount of gold in the world would help me if I harbored a Shadow.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?”
Rickon remained quiet.
“Rickon, you’ve known me for years. All because of some stupid thing that happened in the square, I’m suddenly no longer a ‘good person?’”
“You are, it’s just that you— I mean, you’re a—well, you’re a Shadow,” he said while he studiously avoided meeting her eyes.
Hearing the words—or rather, lack of them—hurt every bit as much as her back. Even without telling Rickon about the confrontation in her shack, or the death of Will and the twins, Aeryn should have expected as much. He was devout to a fault. What she had not expected however, was that he would so readily turn his back on a friend.
“Fine. I’m going. I wouldn’t want my evilness to rub off on you.”
“Aeryn, I—“
“Just look after Jynx for a few days for me while he recovers, alright?”
Rickon’s eyes rose. “But Nameless’ celebration! There are still five days left. The Shades are coming and speaking every day. They say the Voices will make another appearance. Rumor is that Nameless himself might even come down from his castle and speak. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Can you imagine standing in the presence of Nameless himself? It would be rapturous!” He frowned, his tone changing to that of a child told he could not go see the traveling gleeman with all his friends. “If I have to look after your draven I’ll miss everything.”
She gave him a hard glare he never had been able to say no to. His eyes dropped. Nameless coming to speak to commoners. As if. Aeryn would become a Voice before that happened.
“I have a few things I need to do, then I’ll be back for Jynx. A few days at the most, then you can get back to your precious bowing and scraping.”
“But—“
Aeryn’s mood instantly worsened. As if nothing else had gone wrong, now she had to make excuses to have a friend—or rather, a former friend—look after Jynx for a couple of days?
“Don’t worry,” she snapped. She tried to bite back all the frustration, anger and sorrow she had kept pent up. It bubbled to the surface anyway. “You’ll still be able to hand over all your hard worked for coin and tithe yourself destitute. You do realize how stupid that is, don’t you? As if the Voices will send Shades to protect you for a pair of measly silver? You worked what? six months? a year? for that coin? Yet it’s worthless to the Voices, let alone Nameless. The second it gets added to the noble’s tithes, it’ll be lost, buried beneath a mountain of gold.”
“It’s not the amount that matters, it is the sacrifice it entailed—“
Sacrifice. Phaw! She spat at his feet. What did he know of sacrifice? He had not just had three friends murdered. He had not lost his best friend, spent all night hunting for him, then the instant he was reunited, see his best friend nearly killed before his eyes. To top it all off, he did not have to deal with being called a Shadow, deal with a Lord that did not act like one, or fight a Shade.
She spun on her heels and cut him off with her back, striding from the stable into the fresh afternoon sun. In truth, she did not know what she was going to do. She only knew that she had had all the piety she could handle from a stable boy that thought himself her better due to his uncompromising faith.
Returning to her tiny shack was out. A Lord and Shade had both found it, one of which was now dead, and the other she did not trust. Everyone knew that Lords played games with their words, one minute saying something, the other doing the opposite, like coming back to tie up loose ends and kill her. Running and hiding was equally out. She simply had no coin or prospects to get more. That left one thing—moving forward. Even if it placed her squarely in a mouth full of razor sharp teeth. She would have to be careful. Any misstep would cost her her life.
Aeryn angled toward the ringing of hammer on anvil in the distance. Just because she had to move forward did not mean she could not prepare and go into it with her eyes open. Ty still owed her a few favors; favors she intended on cashing in right now.
She arrived and rapped on the door. When no one answered, she pounded with a clenched fist. Bloody muscle has probably stopped up his ears, Aeryn thought. Taking matters into her own hands, she opened the stout door, and stepped into a blissfully warm workshop.
“Aeryn,” Ty said, noticing the influx of light and cool air. Dropping the heavy hammer to the anvil with a resounding clank, he brushed off the glowing embers stuck to his leather ap
ron and made his way across the workshop littered with everything from iron ingots and barstock to quenching barrels and a hundred different types of forgings. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” He enfolded her in a hug. “I heard what happened to Brin, Bran, and Will.”
Tall and broad-shouldered, Ty was corded in muscles so thick the blacksmith who owned the workshop had plucked him from the street, dirty and hungry, to be an apprentice. Aeryn’s ribs creaked. The stitches in her back strained to their limits, near to bursting.
“Can’t. . .breathe. . .” Aeryn managed to hiss between clenched teeth.
Ty released Aeryn and jumped back. “Oh, right. Sorry.” He stuck his hands behind his apron sheepishly. “I don’t get out much anymore. Master Luggard has me swinging a hammer all day. I tend to forget my strength when I do see old friends.”
“Old friends? Who are you calling old?” Aeryn punched him square in the chest as hard as she could. She might as well have punched a brick wall. Her hand came away sore. For all the reaction he showed, he had felt it less than the sting of a biteme.
“Fine, baby friends.” He pinched her arm as if checking for muscle.
Aeryn swung out with her foot, landed a blow against his shin.
Ty yelped and hopped around on one leg.
Aeryn grinned. Muscle bound or no, everyone had a few weaknesses, even oxen-like blacksmiths.
“Do you have a minute?” Aeryn asked when he finally settled down.
“I don’t know if I want to give you a minute anymore.”
“Well, if that’s how you feel. . .” Aeryn turned and made as if to leave. His hand darted out before she could even lift her foot. She smiled. Just like Rickon, Ty was predictable. And Will too—she fought the lump in her throat at the thought of never seeing him again. She forced it down. Death was an inescapable part of life on the streets.
He gasped. “What happened to your back?”
“What do you mean?” How did he know about her back?
“Well for one, it’s covered in blood.” Ty gingerly touched the small of her back. A flare of heat lanced up Aeryn’s spin.
Aeryn brought her hand around. It came away sticky and red. “Shit.” Apparently, a few of the stitches had popped under his strength. “Do you have a needle and thread?”
Ty held up his hands. “No way. I’m not stitching you up. Blood grosses me out. Get Rickon to do it.” It was comical seeing the hulking blacksmith’s apprentice squirm at the thought of a little blood.
“I can’t,” Aeryn said, shaking her head. “Rickon isn’t talking to me anymore.” Talking? She would be lucky if he did not turn her over to the Shades.
“What? Why?”
“That’s actually why I came over here. I’ll tell you everything, but first. . .” She dragged his eyes to her bloodied hand.
Ty let out a sigh that sounded like one of the bellows connected to the forge. “Fine. But only because you’re my sister.”
They were not really brother and sister, but they were family nonetheless. Growing up on the streets, you formed your own family. It was the only way to survive. Only, with Will and the twins dead and Rickon gone, Ty was all she had left. He opened a door into the adjoining house and stepped through.
Aeryn hung back. “What about him?” she asked.
“It’s okay. Master Luggard is out making deliveries. He’ll be gone for a couple hours.”
“Well, alright. But if he comes back. . .” Ty’s Master did not like street urchins. Not unless they had something to offer him, anyway. Like Ty’s muscle bound arms. Otherwise, he was as likely to give Aeryn more wounds that needed stitches as allow Ty to tend to her existing ones.
“Then I’ll deal with him.” Ty said.
Aeryn laughed. “Really?”
Ty scowled. He knew every bit as well as her that he could not stand up to his Master. If he could, he would not be stuck making barrel after barrel of nails. “Come on,” he said, clamping his hand around her arm. In his iron grip, Aeryn had no recourse but to follow. That, or be picked up and slung over his shoulder like bar stock. He had done it before.
As she was being stitched—or tortured, she could not tell which, as a blacksmith’s fingers did not lend themselves to finesse—Aeryn did her best to recount everything that had happened in the past few days.
“A Shade? Really?” Ty asked when she finished talking.
“That’s what he said. Hey—remember that time when I cut your clothes off, had you roll around in refuse, and run through the streets shouting?”
Ty did a double take at the change in topics and flushed bright red. “Well, yeah, you saved my life.” He chuckled and slapped his thigh. “I still remember the look on their faces when they finally caught up to me. None of them would so much as lay a finger on a naked crazy boy. Why they actually turned and ran when I charged them.” His laughter died quickly. His face became stern. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“I need you to do something for me. It involves some risks.” Mighty big risks. She crossed her fingers and told him what she needed him to do. “So will you do it?” she asked when finished.
“You’re asking a lot.”
“I know.” When Ty just sat there silently, head in his hands, staring into the glowing embers of the furnace, she started to worry. “If you don’t want to, I’m sure I can find someone else to do it.” Who, she had no clue.
“What?” Ty shook his head and looked up. “Of course I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Of course. It’s the least I owe you. Besides, you’re family. I’m not like pious Rickon to turn my back on a family just because I’m scared of Shadows. Though I am kind of worried about how I’m going to do it. Master Luggard does not exactly give me much leeway or coin.”
Aeryn breathed a sigh of relief. The easy part was done. “Thank you,” she said. She looked to the door. “Now I’m going to get out of here before—
The door swung open. A big, heavily muscled man entered, followed by an even bigger voice. “Ty, I need you too—“
Too late. Aeryn jumped to her feet, her hand pressed to her back.
“Boy, what have I told you about your filthy friends?” Master Luggard’s eyes were nuggets of molten steel.
“Master Luggard,” Ty began, “Aeryn just came by too—“
“I don’t care if she is dying and came to say her final goodbyes. Get her out of my smithy.”
Aeryn gave the big blacksmith a glare. Gods! The man did not have a sympathetic muscle in his body.
Returning the glare with equal ferocity, Master Luggard picked up a hammer. “Out.” He pointed to the door.
Ty actually began to step forward. Aeryn hopped to before Ty could interfere. She did not want to get him in any further trouble. Especially not after the favor she had asked of him.
“Boy, if you know what’s good for you you’ll—“ The door slammed shut and cut off Master Luggard’s bellow.
Well, Aeryn said to herself, nothing left to do now but get too it. A quick stop at the ruinous mess that used to be her shack and she headed toward the square that sat before Lord’s Gate. Packed with drunken revelers, thousands of eyes saw her. This was not something cloaking herself in darkness would help with. Broad daylight would actually be safer. Much safer. Moving with purpose, she threaded through the throngs. A hundred paces and she was at the gate.
“Halt.” A guard stepped out from his station beneath the portcullis. While not as tall or broad-shouldered as the guards on the Protector’s Gate, visible half a league away and set within a wall twice as high, he was nevertheless imposing in his burnished steel breastplate, conical helm, and long sword.
Aeryn kept walking.
The guard stepped in front of her. On the opposite side, a second joined. “Halt,” he repeated. “Street filth like you are not allowed past. Go crawl back into whatever hole you crawled out of before we beat you back there.”
Despite being a third his size, Aeryn looked him square in
the eyes. “Let me by. I’m a courier for Master Luggard,” she said. Small chance two gate guards knew the blacksmith, even smaller chance they knew he ran his deliveries himself.
“Right,” said the second guard, “and I’m Voice.”
“And I’m Shade,” the other guard said, joining in. Both burst out in cackles.
Aeryn put her hands on her hips. “If you don’t let me by, my Master will not be pleased.”
A third guard appeared and mirrored her form, causing the trio to bend over double in laughter.
Pulling out the small purse from her belt, Aeryn loosened the drawstrings. She opened it just enough for sunlight to glitter off the delicately linked silver within.
The guards cut off in an instant. The first narrowed his eyes; the other two dropped their hands to their hilts as though she had showed them a venomous snake trapped within. “Who did you steal that from, girl?”
Aeryn stuck to her story. The longer she stood here, the greater the chances they would call her bluff. “I didn’t steal it. I told you; I’m a courier.” One of the guards raised an eyebrow. Another frowned. She went on in a hurry. “Who would think to rob a street urchin? Even if I didn’t fear my Master’s wrath, I couldn’t sell it to save my life; like you, no one would believe I owned it. Now,” she paused to survey each in turn, “are you going to let me by, or shall I inform my Master?”
One quick glance at each other and they parted, albeit reluctantly, to let her past.
Quickstepping down the street, Aeryn made a beeline—well, as much as she could in the winding streets where the nobles lived—toward her destination. She wanted to put some distance between herself and the gate guards should they begin to question their decision. That or consult an officer, who surely would.
Once again, Aeryn found herself outside the familiar low curtain wall surrounding Lord Merek’s three-story estate. This time however, the sun was still a good three hands from the horizon and she took the front entrance rather than hopping the wall. Walking the hundred pace boulevard, lined with thick shrubs, sporadic trees, and more than a dozen velveteen carriages all watched over by guards, drivers and porters, Aeryn wondered that anyone could be rich enough to need their own road. Or servants, cooks, gardeners, and chamberlains, like Reeve, the crusty man fetched by a maid at her loud rapping.
Shadowborn Page 5