Draykon

by Charlotte E. English

  'What about the pale-haired woman?'

  Ed's eyes flicked towards her. 'Looks like you.'

  'Me?'

  'Well.' He narrowed his eyes slightly, inspecting her. 'Might just be the hair,' he conceded.

  Tren frowned. 'Ed, who is she?'

  'The most beautiful woman in the world,' he said.

  Tren smiled sadly. 'Your mother said she was a sorceress?'

  'Sorceress? No, not that.' Ed's breathing began to grow laboured again, and he winced. 'Traitoress, though. She introduced me to her... friend. The man without a face. How strong did you say that draught was?'

  'Pretty damn strong.' Tren stared at his friend, alarmed. 'It hasn't even been half an hour...'

  Ed was silent for several minutes, occupied with trying to get enough air. Eva and Tren could only watch, helpless. At last he rallied a little again.

  'Met her at Darklands Market,' he continued. 'Thought she liked me.'

  'Didn't she?'

  'She sent the shrouded man to me. I'd say not.'

  'Ed, what is her name?'

  'Said she was called Ana. From Orstwych, she claimed. Accent wasn't right though.'

  'You think she was lying.'

  'Seems likely.' Ed's eyes grew sad. 'Never saw her again after the job.'

  Tren shook his head. 'Why did you run, Ed? Why didn't you tell me about this before?'

  'Couldn't stay around, could I? I knew they'd be looking for a scapegoat.' His breathing grew wet, stifled with blood. 'Tren, I swear. I never knew what would come of it. I never meant for anyone to be hurt.'

  'I know, Ed. It's okay.'

  'I met him in Orstwych after I'd done the job. Got the money. Left it with the girls. Then I followed him. He came out here, fast, sure, like he knew where to go. Turned out there's a regular gate here.' Edwae was talking fast, now, sensing that he was running out of time. 'Tried to stop him going through. Obviously I failed.'

  'You said he was a sorc.'

  'Right.'

  'Why did he need to find a gate? Why didn't he just open one?'

  'No idea. He went through it, though, with his entourage in tow.'

  'Wait. There was only him? Nobody else was with him?'

  'Just him.'

  'He's a sorc, and he's dragging whurthags around with him?'

  Ed gave a tiny shrug. 'He had a couple of them.'

  'And they were obeying him?'

  'Just about. Barely.' Ed was gasping for breath again, gritting his teeth. 'I wanted to stop him, make up for what I did. I failed.'

  'We'll find him.' Tren spoke firmly, confidently. 'One way or another, we'll make sure that it ends.'

  Ed sighed, his distress easing. 'Should've told you before.'

  'That's true enough.'

  'I'm sorry. You were always the... one the girls liked. I didn't dare tell you about Ana. I thought she'd ditch me in a second if she saw you. I was a fool.'

  Tren tried to smile, but his face wouldn't obey him. A sob emerged from his throat as Ed's eyes closed again, the harsh sound of his breathing fading into silence.

  They waited, but he did not rally again. Still Tren would not move, maintaining his station by his friend, still clutching those cold fingers in his own. Eva waited with him for a long time, but at last she moved quietly away, leaving Tren alone with Ed's remains.

  She felt almost as much pain as he did, watching him grieve. It brought the memory of Meesa's death back to her mind with too much clarity, and she mourned anew for both her friend and his.

  At last, Tren moved, stiffly after his long, motionless vigil. He wandered aimlessly about the clearing, dazed, his face drawn and stained with drying tears. Eva watched him silently, unable to determine how to comfort him. Finally he wandered in her direction, slumping down by her.

  'Cold bastard,' he muttered, indicating Finshay. Vale's agent remained oblivious, though he was obviously awake. He was reading from a tatty volume, head propped casually on one folded arm.

  Eva shrugged. 'It's his job to be, I suppose.'

  Tren muttered something inaudible. He lay silent for some time, watching Eva. She returned to the perusal of her notes, tidying and arranging her comments, letting Tren pursue his own thoughts.

  'Got everything?' he said at last.

  She nodded. 'I believe so. I'm making copies now, for you and Mr. Arrerly.'

  'How efficient.'

  She smiled sadly. 'It's necessary.'

  'I suppose it is.'

  'Tren, I'm so sorry.'

  He nodded. 'I don't know what to do, now.' His customary cheerfulness was gone; he sounded helpless and frightened. 'His mother needs to be told, Vale will want a report immediately and your notes must be handed over. But...'

  'But?'

  'But I don't want to do any of that. I want to take up Ed's pursuit.'

  Eva shifted, feeling a sense of foreboding. 'Into the Lowers?'

  'Yes.'

  'Alone?'

  'Yes. If necessary.'

  'Tren, Ed's flight was... ill-considered. Had he had help, he might be alive now. It won't help him for you to follow his example and get yourself hurt, too.'

  'He should have told me. I could have been with him; between us we might have fared better.'

  'Might have.'

  Tren sighed deeply. 'If we wait to go all the way back to Glour, convince Vale of the truth of Ed's story - because after all he is still the main suspect - and then return with 'help', whoever Ed was chasing will be long gone. I want to take it up now.'

  'Tren -'

  'I know, it's crazy.'

  She watched him warily, trying to gauge his seriousness from his expression. She couldn't read him.

  'You can't go alone.'

  'As far as I am concerned, I don't have a choice.'

  'Have you ever been there before?'

  'Once or twice, in school. Never for very long. But I can manage.'

  'Tren, you can't go alone. Really. Please reconsider this idea.'

  'I can't. What else do we have to go on? Even Ed couldn't tell us much. There are no other good leads. It ends here, and unless I take up Ed's pursuit, it's over now. How can I turn away from that? How many other people will die if I don't do something?'

  Eva was silent. His words spoke to her heart, even if her mind rebelled from the idea. Thinking of Meesa, she could understand his urgency.

  Nonetheless...

  'Tren, please. You don't - you can't - understand about the Lowers if you haven't spent any real time there. Even trained, experienced summoners are at risk down there alone. Even me.'

  'It can't be helped. I'm hardly defenceless; I'll manage somehow.'

  'What are you going to do if you find him, hm? Ed's as powerful as you are and look what became of that!' She was growing angry, frustrated with her inability to influence him.

  'I have to go.'

  'You don't have to. You've a duty to report to Vale, to see that Ed's family are told-'

  'Don't you see? Ed thought this was important enough to risk his life for it. He needed to do it. If I want to be the friend I ought to be, I'll finish this for him.' He stood up and began collecting his things, resolute. 'You'll see that Ed's remains are taken home to Orstwych? Tell Vale everything. Speak to the family, if you can - they'll remember you.' He paused to give her a lopsided smile. 'If you get time, send somebody after me. If I get in trouble, maybe they'll find me.'

  She stood up, too. 'Tren, wait. Please. This is crazy.' She felt real fear growing, threatening to choke her. The prospect of another lively young man disappearing into the Lowers on an ill-advised pursuit of the man who casually controlled two whurthags... picturing Tren's face striped with wounds, covered in his own blood as Ed and Meesa had been, her stomach turned.

  'I'm going with you.'

  He stopped, shocked. 'What?'

  'You heard me.' She lifted her chin and stared him down. 'Don't argue.'

  'You recall everything you just said to me, I suppose.'

  'With perfect
clarity. The two of us will manage better than you will alone.'

  'Why would you do this?'

  'I've as good a reason as you,' she reminded him. 'Besides, you're right. Something ought to be done now, not in a week or two weeks or however long it takes Glour government to get organised.'

  'That's not what you said a moment ago.'

  'That was when you were insisting on going alone.'

  'I still am!'

  'No, you're not. You need my summoner skills. What are you going to do when you meet a whurthag face-to-face, hm?'

  'Fight it, I suppose.'

  'That having worked so beautifully for Edwae.'

  He changed tack. 'Look, I need to know someone is taking care of Ed and his family. Finshay isn't equipped for that job.'

  'Like you said, this is more important.'

  He stared at her, helpless. 'Why are you so determined about this?'

  'I don't want you to go alone.'

  He blinked at her.

  'I wouldn't want anyone to attempt such a thing alone, Tren! It's unthinkable.'

  Finshay's voice broke in on the altercation. 'If you've made a decision, perhaps you could get on with it. Time's moving on.' He rose to his feet and approached Eva, taking the notebook out of her hands. He examined it critically, then ripped a few pages out.

  'Legible. Good.' He handed the book back to her with a nod. 'I'll deal with the boy, the family, the government, the notes and all the dull stuff. You two go get yourselves killed. Have fun.' He turned his back on them, stowing the pages in his pack.

  Tren snorted. 'Thanks.'

  'No problem. I'll tell Vale you both sent your regards.'

  Tren looked at Eva. 'Last chance to change your mind.'

  'Right after you do.'

  He grinned, for the first time that day. 'Onward then, comrade.'

  Eva's belongings were soon gathered. Tren paused long enough to pay a final goodbye to his friend. Eva heard him whisper something, though she couldn't make out the words and she didn't try. Moments later, he joined her before the gate.

  'Ready?'

  Eva nodded. 'Go.'

  He shouldered his bag and stepped forward. His form rippled and shivered like wind through the grass, and then he vanished.

  Eva took a breath and stepped in after him. The gate closed in around her, squeezing the air in her lungs and beating hard upon her skin. Then she was through into the cool, sharp air of the Lower Realms.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Llandry followed Devary's party south and east through the thickly-growing, sun-warmed woodlands of Glinnery. They were angling towards the major coach road that ran between southernmost Glinnery and Nimdre. The woods had been swept by the summoners and there was little out of the ordinary to be encountered. As they wended further south, the landscape grew more open and expansive, the towering glissenwol thinning and dwindling away into lesser monoliths only twice Devary's height. Their colours changed gradually, from the blues, purples and greens of northern and eastern Glinnery into a vibrant range of reds, yellows and oranges. Llandry had travelled southwest into Irbel or east into Glour, but these sights were less familiar to her. They were beautiful, but there was something saddening about the decreasing height and grandeur of the proud glissenwol caps. It suggested a fading of strength and health.

  Her journey was arduous, and for a few brief moments she had even regretted her decision to go after Devary. Travelling on the wing, she was obliged to fly high in order to avoid being spotted by Devary's airborne escort of armed guards. They, too, were hanging back, taking care not to draw undue attention to Devary. He had to look like an ordinary traveller returning to his home city, and an obvious entourage would destroy that. So Llandry had to fly so far back she could barely keep Devary in sight. The strain took its toll on her injured arm and back, and by the end of the eventide hours she was flagging badly. When Devary stopped to sleep, she settled to the ground with relief. A night spent on the ground with nothing but a blanket for comfort was a new experience: exciting, though it would probably lose its piquancy after a few repetitions. At least she had the deep mosses to lie in.

  'Sig, I need you to tell me when Devary goes, all right?' If he understood her he gave no indication of it. Llandry sighed and let it go. She had to sleep; if she missed Devary's departure she would simply have to catch him up.

  As she lay down and shut her eyes she felt something brush lightly against her cheek. She sat up in alarm, heart pounding. Had she been discovered? She waited for several minutes, but nobody could be seen or heard nearby. The light touch came again, amid a whirl of colour and a soft buzzing sound, and at last she identified the source: her little winged friend had followed her.

  'You kept yourself well hidden,' she murmured, catching it gently in her hands. Remarkable; she hadn't expected that the creature had enough awareness of her to go to such lengths.

  'Well, if you're staying, hush. I want to sleep.' She released it, soothing it with a gentle touch of her will, and the buzzing subsided. Huddling under her blankets with Sigwide's warmth to comfort her, Llandry fell asleep.

  ***

  They had passed through the mountains of north-eastern Irbel and begun the descent into Nimdre before Llandry's presence was discovered. Tired and in pain, she had been steadily losing height until she was flying some way below the winged guards' altitude. She had barely noticed, and when the nearest guard shouted and circled down to her level it was too late to escape. She was recognised, of course - everybody knew her mother's face - and she found herself marched forcibly ahead to be presented to Devary.

  He looked down at her with an impassive face. Llandry squirmed, suddenly ashamed of herself for her deceit.

  'Don't say anything about my mother,' she begged. 'I know she won't approve. I just-'

  Devary held up a hand. 'I don't believe I need you to explain.' His tone was quite cold, and Llandry felt terrible. She had lost his good opinion, and she would be marched straight back to Glinnery to face her mother's anger. But then Devary smiled.

  'That is because I imagine I can understand. Though I must inform your mother of your whereabouts, as soon as possible.' Llandry felt a wave of relief wash over her, followed by a tremor of excitement. He wasn't going to reject her. She could stay with him after all.

  Then she grimaced, feeling a twinge of renewed pain work its way down her back.

  'See now, you have hurt yourself again. What would your mother say?' She stiffened, but his tone was light, teasing. She smiled back shyly.

  'I'm not really hurt. Just a bit tired.'

  'You have flown all the way? I'm impressed, truly. You are a woman of determination.' He looked at the guard who still held Llandry's arm. 'All is well. We will take a carriage as soon as we reach the gates.' The guard nodded and took off again, returning to his station. Devary looked back at Llandry.

  'Can you walk for another few miles? We are not far from Nimdre.'

  'My legs are fine. It's just my arms and back that are tired.'

  He nodded. 'Excellent. I will find a room for you at the Harp, I think. Your mother used to love it.'

  'Ma's been to Nimdre?' The idea shouldn't surprise her; Ynara was too knowledgeable to have spent her life confined to Glinnery.

  'She used to visit quite regularly, once,' he said. 'With me.' He didn't smile that time, and Llandry sensed a touch of regret in his tone. She was polite enough to refrain from questioning him further.

  'Shall we go? I don't know about you but I am starving.'

  He laughed. 'What have you had to eat since we left? Very little? We had better hurry, indeed.'

  ***

  Their destination was Draetre in northwestern Nimdre, a town of moderate size that proved to lie in the heart of the expansive forest. It was twilight when they arrived, a condition of light that Llandry had never seen before. In its muted serenity it reminded her of Glinnery's eventide, only it was darker, full of shadows. She didn't find it disturbing; on the contrary she was enc
hanted by it. Watching from the windows of their hired carriage, she was completely absorbed by the curious half-light.

  Devary's home town had an air of sleepy serenity which Llandry found particularly agreeable. Buildings of wood and pale grey stone were constructed with a haphazard air, as if they were not the product of conscious design but had instead shouldered their way out of the ground, developing bulges and protrusions as necessary to contain the requirements of their inhabitants. There was a charm about this, despite the aura of confusion spawned by the peculiar buildings and crowded, circuitous streets.

  The Silver Harp (its odd appearance notwithstanding) proved to be a particularly elegant establishment; so much so that it was hard to credit that money changed hands in exchange for her accommodation. She was given a room near the top of a building so peculiarly constructed that, from the outside, it appeared ready to topple. But inside, the layout of the rooms possessed an inexplicable logic and harmony that was wholly unexpected, and she found no further reason to doubt its solidity. Her room was well-lit by long, clear windows, beautifully panelled with silvery wood, and comfortably upholstered in silks and velvets. Best of all, a large tub stood in an adjoining chamber which was quickly filled with hot water for her use. She was waited upon rather than served by the patrons of the establishment, and engaged in genial conversation. She felt like an invited guest more than a paying customer.

  She was quite settled, and perfectly ready to take advantage of the tub next door; but Devary inexplicably lingered after the attendants had departed. He was inspecting her room rather critically, Llandry felt.

  'Your mother would expect me to get the very best for you,' he explained, frowningly examining the large panes of glass through which the soft, silvery moonlight shone.

  'This is the best. I can hardly imagine how it could be better.'

  He smiled. 'Perhaps so. I'll call for you tomorrow, then, and we will see the town.'

  Llandry had every intention of exploring before that time. The peculiar twilight of Nimdre intrigued her, and she wanted to experience more of it before she slept. But Devary looked exhausted, so she merely smiled. 'Mm, well. That tub is calling to me.'