by Steven Drake
As soon as Darien released the man’s hand, Miri felt Darien’s energy change. The tension faded, and the threatening predator was gone. The prisoner pulled his hand away and retreated in to the backmost corner of the cell, whimpering again. Miri felt something else from Darien then, an intense feeling of sadness, regret that she didn’t quite understand. Why was she sensing all this?
Darien walked out of the cell, shut the door, and turned to Kellan. “That’s all he knows. He’s no one of any importance, and not a threat to us. He was acting under a spell, and he won’t go back to those who sent him, not willingly at any rate. He didn’t show any trace of any spells lingering on him. It would probably be safest to have him watched for a few days. The kind of torture he’s been through, it takes time to recover from it, if he ever does. He’s young, so he might recover, given time, if he’s strong enough. You can decide what to do with him.”
“How can you be sure he isn’t lying?” Zitane asked skeptically.
“It would take too long to explain to you. Ask your sister if you don’t believe me.” Mirisa nodded. She had not really been paying close attention, but she had felt no deception, nor could she imagine anyone that obviously terrified lying. “If you’re feeling well enough, Lady Mirisa, he has some injuries.”
Mirisa nodded and smiled, then started into the cell, until Zitane grabbed her. “No, Miri. He was going to abduct you. You can’t help him.”
“Not him, his boss. A man now dead by my hand,” Darien corrected. “This boy was just a fool being manipulated by magic. He’s unarmed and in no condition to fight. He offered no resistance, and I sensed no intention to escape.” Darien looked down at his feet. “Just mindless irrational fear.” Miri pulled her hand away from Zitane.
“So why is he so afraid of you?” Kellan added, with unmistakable suspicion on his voice. “I’ve been trying to get him to talk for an hour. I thought I might have to get rough with him. You come in and crack him like an egg with a few words.”
“The threat of force is often just as effective as the force itself,” Darien said flatly. “Particularly when you know the right threat. He’s been subjected to domination magic. Nothing you could have threatened would have been near as frightening or painful as what he’s already experienced.”
“But you could,” Kellan’s accusatory tone grew more severe. “Do not think me ignorant, mage. Few would know such dark arts. You are not simply a mage, and that boy recognized it. I want to know why.”
“Because he was one of them,” Zitane spoke unexpectedly. Darien turned and frowned. For a second, she felt he might grow angry, but instead he sighed.
“I suppose Garok told you,” Darien said, to which Zitane nodded an affirmation. “Then I should explain more fully. I did not tell you of my true nature because there was no reason for you to know, and no danger in your remaining ignorant, but things have changed.” Darien sighed deeply. Miri could sense how much Darien was hurting. If only the others could see that. “Have you heard of an order of mages who call themselves the Shades?”
Kellan’s eyes reflected a glimmer of recognition and a vague dread. “I have heard the name from some of our less savory visitors, whispered rumors of assassins who rule the shadows. They are said to be a new power rising. Perhaps those rumors are true.”
“The Shades are quite real.” Darien sighed and shook his head. “They are the servants of a tyrant who names himself the Demon King.”
“Ah, the Demon King of the east. I have heard that name, from the few travelers who come from the lands east of the desert and the mountains. I thought the rumors too terrible to be true.”
“More likely the rumors fall far short of the reality. He is unspeakably powerful, with magic that makes my own look like the tricks of a simple hedge wizard.”
“And you know all this, how?”
“As Zitane said, I was a Shade, once.”
“Was?”
“I left their order, against their wishes of course. I have been running from them ever since. That is the danger my presence poses. The man I fought last night was a Shade, and he recognized me. Once that happened, I had no choice but to kill everyone present. If the Shades found out I was here, they would stop at nothing to kill me.” Darien shut his eyes and paused for a moment. “It was fortunate Garok followed me, else I might not have made it out alive, or some of the enemy might have escaped. We are both fortunate.”
Kellan’s expression softened, still hard, but less hostile. “Well, thank you for telling me, and though it seems grim to say, thank you for being so thorough in making sure no one lived to report back. I’ve no love of bloodshed, but I respect a man that does what is necessary. This is no land for the soft-hearted. We’ve had troubles of this sort before. Never with mages, mind, but most everyone who comes here is running from something. You have my thanks for thinking of the people of Exire.”
“If you deem the danger too great, I am willing to leave.”
Miri started to protest, but Zitane held her back. Kellan, however, shook his head. “No. It may be foolish of me, but I have more honor than fear in me. You’ve done much to aid us since you’ve been here and caused no trouble. I’ll not reward your honesty by turning you out. Besides, Miri would never forgive me.” Kellan looked over and winked at Miri. She felt immeasurably grateful. “If Zandrek is involved with these people, we may have to face them one way or the other. Better to know what we’re up against.”
“You can’t repel them, not if they come in any strength. That Shade I fought last night would have been impossible to kill even if you had a dozen skilled warriors, and there are many who are much worse. A half dozen Shades could raze your city to the ground and kill everyone in it.”
Kellan opened his mouth. “Surely you can’t be serious.”
“You have no experience with the power of magic. The Shades are ruthless, efficient, living weapons.” Darien looked down. “If they come, I can draw them away. Once they realize I’m here, they’ll focus all their attention on me.”
“You must really have pissed them off,” Kellan said.
“You have no idea,” Darien smiled grimly.
“Darien, you can’t,” Miri suddenly spoke up. She looked up at Darien, trying to get him to see her concern, but he looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze. “You’re not fully recovered yet. You could die.”
“A small price to pay for the safety of so many,” he said coldly, still looking away, damn him.
“I’ll not simply send a man to his death lightly, no matter the danger.” Kellan crossed his arms on his chest. “Just doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Besides, we can’t be sure that will accomplish anything,” Zitane said. “Won’t they just return after they’re done with you? It’s noble of you to offer, but it isn’t much of a sacrifice if it only delays our doom a few days or a few months. If they are as cruel as you say, isn’t it just as likely they’ll take retribution on the town once they have dealt with you?”
“I can’t dismiss that possibility,” Darien said grudgingly. “But there’s also a good chance they’ll focus all their efforts on me. It would give you time to escape.”
“There’s nowhere else to escape to. There’s nothing but wilderness north of here. If that prisoner is right, then the Shades’ stronghold is east of here. Can we get past them? We can’t go south either. My brother has expanded Catarina’s dominion over almost the entire forest, nearly all the way to the sea. We could go west, towards one of the seaports, but there are no roads, and we don’t know anything about the terrain. Could we outrun them?” Darien stiffened and shut his eyes. Miri could see the frustration. Zitane was right, and Darien knew it. The stubborn half-elf just didn’t like it. He was always so determined to do everything himself.
“You know I’m right.” Zitane took a step forward and stared confidently up at the much taller Darien. “I know my brother. He’s not going to give up. If he’s allied with people this horrible, it’s only a matter of time. You mig
ht buy us a few weeks or months, but what then? This situation isn’t that complicated. I know it isn’t what any of us wanted, but the facts are clear. You need Miri to keep you alive, and we need you to deal with these Shades. Whether we stay here and fight, or whether we run, we have a better chance together.”
Darien stiffened and shut his eyes. “You have no idea what you’re asking. I don’t want anyone else involved in my problems.”
“We’re already involved,” Zitane said. “Whether we like it or not. We’re asking for your help. You owe it to us, and especially to Mirisa.”
Miri very lightly took his hand and held it. He didn’t resist. She could feel the energy in him, the magic. She could also feel the fear, raw and close to the surface, so much pain. He was terrified, but not for himself. Miri spoke plaintively, almost pleading, hoping to get through to him. “Please, we need your help, and you need ours. Help us, help me, and let me help you. We’ll be stronger together.”
“Alright,” he finally said with a shake of is head followed by a long sigh. Everyone let out a sigh of relief and the tension in the room lowered noticeably. “But remember you chose this.” Darien’s gaze darted between Zitane and Kellan. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll lead you to the bodies. We will want to burn the remains, thoroughly. I’ll be at the lodge when you’re ready. Miri, you should take a look at the prisoner. You may be able to help him.”
Miri nodded happily. The moment of tension had passed. Zitane had chosen the right moment to speak. With Darien, at least they had a chance to face this enemy. Darien left the jail, and Kellan followed.
“You did it,” Miri turned to Zitane.
“Did what, place all our fates in the hands of a stranger who we know almost nothing about?” Zitane smiled and chuckled. “I suppose I did.”
“No, you got him to listen to you. He’s so stubborn, but he listened to you. So did Kellan. We can face this together now.” Zitane shook his head dismissively. If only her brother could see himself, perhaps he would realize how amazing he was.
Miri turned to the cell, where the mousey prisoner remained huddling in the corning, sobbing softly. Miri walked in, accompanied by Zitane.
“What’s your name?” Miri asked.
The man looked at her, and his trembling slowed. “I’m Norin,” he croaked.
“I’m Mirisa, but you can call me Miri. I have the power to heal wounds. Where are you hurt?”
The young man looked skeptical, still letting out soft sobs now and again, but slowly turned and pointed to a spot on his back. His dingy brown shirt had torn, and he had an angry looking welt on his back, a puncture wound, seared shut by fire then scabbed over. She laid her hands on him, and he stilled. Then she let the power flow out from her, felt it as it left her body, then dissipated, healing the injury. After fighting with Darien’s wound for weeks, this was almost too simple. The man tensed for a moment, then stilled. He groaned as the flesh knitted and the wound closed.
“Fetch a bucket of water, Zitane, and a cloth, so I can clean him off.” Zitane hesitated for a moment. “Oh come on, he’s not in any condition to be dangerous. Just go.” Zitane departed and Miri turned back to Norin. “You’re safe now. No one will hurt you. Darien didn’t even hurt you, did he?” The young man nodded weakly. “This is Exire. Everyone here has a past. We’re all running from something, but as long as you don’t cause trouble, and pull your own weight, you’re free to stay as long as you want.” The young man managed a weak smile, and relaxed, sitting more normally against the stone wall.
After a few minutes, Zitane returned with cloth and water. Miri cleaned the man’s wound thoroughly, as gently as possible. After her healing, the puncture wound had closed, leaving only a slight purple discoloration. Miri cleaned the dirt and dried blood from the area around the wound, gently humming as she did. Then she stood, and started to leave.
“Wait,” Norin said. Miri stopped and looked back. “Thank you, it’s better now.”
“Good. You should rest,” Miri said, and walked out of the building. She felt somewhat better now. Danger was still ahead, but something buoyed her up, a sense of irrational hope. She clutched the pendant that hung about her neck, and started toward the lodge, hoping to catch up with Darien. He still had not had his daily healing.
Chapter 20: Learning to Dance
Darien returned to the lodge, where he ate a hearty breakfast, and waited for Kellan. Miri showed up sometime later and insisted on working on his wound again. He still felt fine, but relented, as the resulting argument would have certainly taken longer. She smiled pleasantly throughout, seemingly in a better mood for some reason. At least someone was.
When she finished, Darien still had to wait for about another hour before Kellan finally showed up with a party of a dozen men, other hunters and woodsmen like himself. Darien led them to the sight of the battle, where they carefully checked a wide perimeter to be certain no one had returned to the site of the battle during the night. Darien realized he had taken a risk not dealing with this immediately, but he had been exhausted at the time. Fortunately, the site was undisturbed, and the remains lay untouched, partially covered by the previous night’s snow. The men piled the corpses together and burned them, grim but necessary work that took the rest of the morning.
With the deed done, they returned to town. Darien spent the remainder of the day trying to clear his mind, and make some sense of the ordeal. He needed to know now what the Shades were doing in this area. He at least knew the name of their base, Sorrowmont Fortress, and had a general direction to search, east. With that, he could at least begin some serious inquiries, asking people in the village as well as any travelers who might pass through, though with winter looming, those were likely to be few.
Darien considered asking the boy, Norin, to lead him there, but the young man might not be the most reliable guide, fearful as he was, and his memory of the place might have been tampered with. At any rate, he could not start any search with Mirisa in tow. His injury remained his primary problem. As long as it remained, Zitane’s assessment of the situation held. Their best course was to help each other, but Darien knew he couldn’t protect these people or their town from any organized attack. He had to think of some other plan. As much as he disliked the idea, he had to consider undertaking the journey east with the three of them.
That meant getting past the Shades’ fortress undetected. Given what he learned from the prisoner, and the path of the army that attacked Kilnar, Sorrowmont most likely lay in the north regions of the Green Mountains, a wide band of low mountains over a hundred miles wide that ran from the Scouring Desert in the north to the southern sea. The entire area was a maze of heavily forested mountains and valleys that were near impossible to navigate, an ideal place to hide a fortress. That fortress had to be large, well-supplied, and it had to be led by someone with enough skill to create chimeras.
Alistair might have been the commander at Sorrowmont, but Alistair was a general, and lacked expertise in chimeras. No, there was likely another member of the Black Council there, probably Zanzie the Mad or Thalazane the Bloodstorm, with a strong lieutenant, someone to act as an agent, perhaps Lina the Vileheart or even Kendra the Twilight. Darien’s lips curled involuntarily into a snarl at the thought of Kendra, but she would have been a logical choice, a skilled manipulator of men, able to infiltrate the courts of the nobility, with enough skill to act as an assassin, and enough raw magical power to aid in the creation of chimeras.
Thinking of Kendra brought a rush of unpleasant memories to Darien’s mind, and put him in a foul mood. He still remembered the way she had misled him, pretended to love him in order to trap him, a test of loyalty that he had failed, another one of the Demon King’s ‘lessons’, one he remembered well. He took a sword and went outside the city walls, ostensibly to practice his form, but more accurately to expel some of his dark thoughts through physical exertion. The past two days had gone just about as badly as he could have imagined. It could have been worse, it could
always get worse, but what happened had been bad enough, and Darien needed to work off some frustration. Garok asked if he wanted to spar as he walked out, but he waived the ogre away. He wanted solitude.
He practiced for perhaps two hours, well into the afternoon, forcing as much of his violent rage into his exercises as he could. He had just begun to feel better, when he heard the faintest of footsteps behind him. He turned quickly and brought his blade up to the intruder, but it was only Mirisa. She was smiling blithely, and dressed strangely, wearing a deep forest green leather armor that hugged her figure, quite a contrast from her usual plain loose-fitting dresses. The light of the afternoon sun glinted off her hair, but left her face in shadow. Even so, Darien could see her eyes clearly, as if they shone with a light of their own. In that moment, Darien almost thought her beautiful, but a moment later, he wondered why she was here.
“Lady Mirisa, what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to talk to you, and Garok told me you were out here. He told me you were practicing, so I had an idea.” She smiled and giggled with amusement.
“Yes, I am practicing. I don’t quite see what’s so funny.”
“Well, you wouldn’t dance with me last night, so I thought I’d come dance with you.” Garok, Darien immediately thought. Damned ogre doesn’t know when a joke isn’t funny anymore. “Lady Mirisa, I appreciate your interest in my well-being, but as I said, this isn’t dancing. This is practice for real combat, and none of your business.”
“Why do you think I wore this?” Mirisa fired back. “I know how to fight. My brothers taught me. I’m better than Zitane.”
She smiled proudly and drew a pair of wooden practice swords from her back, and then tossed another set at his feet. Dual swords, an interesting choice. Darien had learned to fight with dual swords, years ago, in another life. He vaguely remembered Kirin telling him something about learning to properly position his hands to maintain balance. Of course, now, he used his off hand for spell casting, or, more recently, for the aetherblade. A shame he had lost it. He had not fought with a sword in each hand since he was a boy, but there was a certain familiarity to it.