The Shattered Shards

by Stephen J Wolf

  The warrior smiled despite the hectic night. He remembered the man whose life he had spared after their mad flight from Warringer where they had then battled the lupinoes. “Hernior?”

  “The one and same,” he nodded. “You’ve been missing for quite some time, but I’ve kept an eye out for you, friend. I did as you bade me and delivered your messages. I fear that it prompted the onset of war in earnest. After that happened, I requested a transfer to Warringer proper to maintain order in light of ‘hard times.’ The king accepted and I have been scouring this land since then.”

  “To what end?” asked Gabrion.

  “As I said, looking for you. I intended to shelter you from other patrols that are still hunting you. It may be half a year later, but the king has not forgotten your transgression.”

  Kitalla laughed mockingly. “He has a whole war to oversee but he’s still petty enough to want to kill us personally?”

  “Basically.” He looked down at Randler and Dariak. “Will they be all right?”

  The thief nodded, “They’re both breathing. Just tired and in pain. But what happens to us now?”

  “Put your faith in me tonight and sleep deeply and eat well. We are already prepping a stew. Tomorrow,” he added with a grin, “you will unfortunately escape and go on your way.”

  “I’m not sure I can trust you,” she replied.

  “I can,” Gabrion refuted. “Thank you, friend. Upon your visit to Savvron, did you speak with the elders there? Did you relay all that I asked you to?”

  “Yes, and your father and mother are proud of you.”

  Gabrion breathed a sigh of relief. It was months-old news, but it was the only word at all he’d had of his home. “Any word from them?”

  “All they had said was that Mira’s folks had not returned from sojourn but that a messenger had brought them a letter saying they were well.” Hernior shrugged. “Your father said he didn’t know more than that, but the handwriting was legitimate, so he felt they were safe.”

  This confused the warrior, “But Mira had been captured.”

  Hernior nodded, “Your father said he wrote back to them, but hadn’t heard a response yet. He didn’t feel you should worry, not that he thought I would see you again anyway.”

  “What does that mean?” Kitalla asked.

  Gabrion shook his head. “I have no idea.”

  A member of Hernior’s troop stepped up cautiously, so as not to upset the warrior and thief. “The sup is ready, Commander.”

  “Thank you, Jeron.” He turned back to the other two. “Wake your friends and eat, then sleep. We can discuss this more in the early morning. If you’ll pardon me, I have to send off a team to obscure our trail from the other patrols.” With that he left.

  Chapter 5

  The Cave

  The team was roused in the early morning by Jeron, Hernior’s second-in-command. “Get up, quickly now. Time to move. Another patrol is closing in and we need to be gone before they arrive.” Apparently, hiding their tracks hadn’t worked.

  The mad scramble went smoothly, despite the injuries Dariak and Randler had sustained in the battle the night before. They groaned through their pains and pushed ahead to the waiting horses, which had already been saddled and stocked with supplies by Hernior’s men. Gabrion kept ahead of his wounded comrades while Kitalla stayed at the rear in case the other patrol slipped through Hernior’s forces. Yet the four of them understood they couldn’t remain with the guards for long. It would ruin the soldiers’ reputations and make their journey tedious.

  Recognizing the need to break apart, Gabrion rushed ahead to consult with Hernior. He wondered if it would be better for the troop to simply lose the team or if they should stage a battle and escape from it.

  “A great man, you are,” Hernior commended, “looking out for our well-being in the king’s eyes, though you’ve no more stake in what happens with us.” He considered for a moment, keeping his horse running onward as he deliberated with himself. “I fear you will be pursued in either regard.”

  Gabrion nodded. “Then we slipped out in the middle of the night. Better you have to fake one reprimand for a poor watchman instead of losing face for falling in a battle against us. Besides, we would rather not harm any of you, even superficially.”

  “Nor have we the time,” the soldier agreed. “Very well, friend. Take your comrades onward and I will have my men raise a ruckus at your escape. Be speedy, for we will not be able to hold back our brethren for long.”

  “Understood.” The warrior tugged his reins and the horse slowed instantly. He rejoined the others and passed his message among them. “We ride, quickly now. Away!”

  As the four of them broke away from the host of soldiers, Hernior called out an alarm and guided his troop slightly toward the east. The twenty men fanned out, partly to cover the others’ westerly escape, but also to suggest some confusion as to where to go. They slowed down and spun about, turning instantly into a hunting party that was purposely going in the wrong direction. And when the nearby patrol caught them, Hernior spurred them onward to join their search in vain.

  They had barely enough time and trees to escape notice. Randler’s head pounded fiercely as his horse thundered beneath him, but he took the lead, guiding them toward his secret abode and the jade awaiting them there. At least they had made some progress southward, but now it was a quick sprint to the west.

  They passed a few clusters of creatures along the way, waking a family of gleese from a morning snooze, but they blazed past all the foes and hurried on. Though the speedier lupinoes kept up at first, they lost interest once they realized the pack leaders had stayed put. It took about two more hours at a hurried pace before the river came into view and, shortly after, Randler dismounted his horse and stalked carefully onward.

  Despite knowing what they were looking for, it was difficult for them to see the cave, even for Kitalla who had a few stashes of her own. Randler knew its location well and he walked with purpose toward a slight hill, nestled within a row of trees and marked by a large boulder. He stepped closer and nudged the enormous rock aside, revealing that it was mostly hollow.

  Kitalla laughed and shook her head. “Such a juvenile disguise, but perfect, being so.”

  “Uh, thanks?” Randler grinned. “The horses won’t fit, but everyone in.”

  Gabrion tethered the horses to a tree and followed the rest of the group inside. He was stunned to see that there was light within the underground space. As he looked around, he saw crafty holes in the ceiling that would probably look like nothing more than divots in the land above, but from here they were reinforced with iron shafts to prevent them from filling in. Though it seemed relatively dark after being out in the sunlight, once his eyes adjusted, he could see well enough.

  “It’s all rock, the walls,” Randler was explaining. “Tollimar, from one of the troupes I traveled with, found this place as a child. We spent a while here together, long ago when we were on the run.” He subtly turned away from Dariak as he gestured to the ceiling. “He said this was all open to the sky when he literally fell into it one day. He and some friends made a roof overhead and used it as a hideout for themselves. Storms and time covered over the roof and sealed it in pretty well.”

  Kitalla interrupted him. “I’m surprised you’re not singing all this. Sounds right out of an old fable or something.” She adopted a mock bard’s tone and added, “O darkened place of ill repute, I find you sitting here all mute. I cover you upon your head, so I can then hide here instead.”

  Randler chortled. “Indeed! Tollimar had quite the set of verses for this place. I figured you had enough of my singing for the moment, but if you’d rather…”

  Kitalla waved her arm for him to continue his tale.

  “Well, Tollimar and his friends were a bit of the rough-and-tumble type, and they landed in some trouble. Tollimar’s friends were killed in a scuffle and he managed to run away, hiding here for a few months until he felt safe. No one found him, but
he knew he couldn’t realistically hide here forever. He played a good beat and sang decently, so he traveled and joined different performance troupes. He broke away a few times over the years; he was a bit hard to get along with, and he wasn’t particularly… accepted… by everyone,” he added with a roll of his eyes and a slight gesture toward himself and Dariak. “But eventually he met up with a group that welcomed him, and then me, and because we were alike in some ways, we got along fine.”

  “More than fine, it sounds like,” Kitalla added with a wink, knowing the comment would irritate Dariak but saying it anyway.

  The bard hedged, but nodded. “Yes. In any event, after learning of this place, and venturing from it a while later, Tollimar lost himself in a tavern one night. Drank until he had no idea what he was doing, and eventually angered the patrons so much they called the town guard. He was carted off and eventually died in the dungeons.”

  Dariak looked at his companion, feeling the sorrow that issued from the man’s lips. He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around Randler, comforting him.

  “So no one else knows of this place?” Gabrion asked a few moments later.

  “No,” Randler answered, greatly relieved at Dariak’s support and keeping his arm around the mage.

  “I don’t agree,” Kitalla commented. “This place looks… disturbed.”

  Randler frowned and Dariak closed his eyes. “The jades aren’t resonating with anything new here,” the mage said. “You’re sure the jade is here?”

  The minstrel realized that Kitalla was right. “No…” he breathed. He pulled away from Dariak and touched random places around the cavern, lifting a small urn in one corner, opening a box in another. He later slid aside a stone panel that blended well with the wall, and after that he sank to the ground and buried his head in his hands.

  “What is it?” Gabrion asked, knowing the answer but asking anyway.

  “It’s gone. All of it. My songbooks. My extra lute. My money. And the jade.” He looked up at Dariak, whose jaw tensed with the announcement. “I swear to you, it was here. I promised you I would bring you to it. It was here. But I can’t prove it,” he realized suddenly, his voice growing faint.

  Kitalla continued her own investigation. “He’s telling the truth,” she commented, much to Randler’s surprise.

  “How could you even know?” he asked, incredulous.

  “I recognize some stuff,” she said vaguely. “Besides, it’s been months since you’ve been here; anything could have happened in that amount of time. Not so hard to imagine someone else stumbled in and took your things.”

  “Especially if the tavern master in Warringer knew of this place,” Gabrion added. “Kitalla, what else do you see here?”

  “Evidence that a friend of mine paid a visit, actually, if I’m not mistaken.” She said it with such confidence, there was no room for her to be mistaken. “See the patches of darkness on the floor in that strange pattern? Definitely her work.”

  Randler followed her gaze. “True, I don’t recognize that.”

  Dariak stared at the odd patterning. “It looks like an energy conduit, as if someone was trying to channel magic in here.”

  Kitalla nodded knowingly, but Gabrion asked, “What’s it drawn with?”

  “Blood,” the mage answered, crouching nearby and examining it more closely. “Not particularly long ago either.”

  “That’s a good thing, anyway,” Kitalla stated. “At least it means we have a chance of finding her. Of course, I doubt even she would have gone far from her usual places.”

  “Who?” Gabrion asked.

  With a snort, Kitalla replied, “The handmaiden.” Gabrion’s eyes opened wide with the recollection of his first meeting with Kitalla in the woods when Dariak was still his prisoner. “Yep,” the thief acknowledged. “Heria was here, doing some sick and twisted ritual like always.”

  “But blood magic?” Dariak hissed. “That’s so erratic and doesn’t work nearly half the time! What’s the point of it?”

  Gabrion wondered, “Haven’t you cut us a dozen times on shards of glass so you can set up protection spells?”

  “That’s different,” Dariak shook his head. “That ties the spell to you. It’s a connective force at that point, not a power supply for the spell.”

  “Blood is powerful,” Randler suggested. “It’s why kings and queens have heirs. Their blood means more than others’. Besides, without it, we don’t live very long, do we? So many wars are fought over rights of blood.”

  “Yes.” Dariak dismissed the history lesson. “But blood isn’t a proper conduit for magic in and of itself. Recognizing the energies and working with them… that’s the way to go about it. Why would she seek power through such a method?”

  Kitalla shrugged and answered with a cool nonchalance that irked the others. “She was a young child when she murdered her father, albeit accidentally, then watched as her mother suicided. She has some sick fascination with blood. She’s deadly in her way, but it’s after the killing that she creeps people out.” She held up her hands before anyone could speak. “Don’t even ask for details.”

  “Wasn’t going to.” Randler frowned.

  “You’re sure it’s her, not some other fanatic?” Dariak asked.

  Kitalla pointed to the design. “Absolutely. See how there are four flourishes going upward in one direction, then two pooling out to the sides, and a final one aiming downward? She drew that all the time. The downward one represents herself and the two out to the side are her parents.”

  “Ah,” said Randler, “then the other four are siblings?”

  The thief tilted her head back and forth from side to side, maintaining a slight detached manner while talking about her previous traveling companion. “Two of them were: older brothers. But those four in particular were the first four men she killed out of revenge for… violating her during her youth. I think one was a lord and the other a servant or an uncle, but I forget.”

  Gabrion was horrified. “Outrageous!”

  Kitalla barely registered a nod. “Her father would have been among those others if he hadn’t earned his own special place as her first kill. She used to say she was the family pet. Anyway, Poltor was the only man ever to earn her true respect, not that I have any idea or interest how. She tolerated the others we worked with out of respect for Poltor, but she would have killed them in an instant if he hadn’t expressly told her not to.” She clapped her hands suddenly, making the others jolt upright. “In any event, we know who has that jade now, so I have to go find her to get it back.”

  “You?” Gabrion echoed, shaking himself alert. “We’re a team, Kitalla.”

  Maintaining her flippant attitude, she gestured to Dariak and Randler, “These two boys are hurting and need time to recover. If she sees you, she’ll try to kill you. I have to go it alone.”

  But the warrior was determined. “I won’t let you face this alone.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Don’t trust me?”

  Gabrion’s reaction surprised her. He started yelling, his face burning a deep crimson as his rant escalated. “Trust you! Who was it who infiltrated our king’s personal dungeon, impersonated a guard, and freed us from capture? Who used her skills in the museum to thwart the guards and keep them at bay so we could fend them off? Who scored us a set of new equipment in Kaison as we ran for our lives? Who protected us by felling a half-dozen guards as we flew from the city? Who has kept us alive at every single turn along this journey? Who got us out of Warringer under the guards’ noses? Who defeated countless horrific traps set up by a maniac? Who took down the ursalor to keep us all alive? Who fought at my back every step of the way, protecting us all when our own battles kept us detained? Trust you? Are you kidding me? My life would have ended long ago without you, you idiot! Trust you?” He fumed and huffed but he stopped yelling at last.

  Something about his response shook her. The phony mask she had adopted to talk about Heria suddenly crumbled and she looked almost stricken wit
h the warrior’s outpouring of raw emotion. Tears leaped into her eyes and it was everything she could do not to cry with his overwhelming support of her. She had felt respected, but hadn’t expected this.

  Dariak saw her inner armor break away at that moment as she digested the words. It was a subtle change, but it was almost tangible. She looked back at Gabrion with such an odd expression, it was as if some definite truth had just been shattered within her and replaced by something better. Though he had raged in disbelief, Gabrion had said the exact thing she needed, without anyone even knowing she had needed it.

  The room was silent for a while as Kitalla stared at Gabrion and everyone stared at Kitalla. At last, Dariak felt that something needed to be said before the silence grew painful or awkward. “She’s right, Gabrion. We’re too injured to rush off at the moment. You two should go.”

  Kitalla didn’t even argue. “We could leave at dawn. One more day won’t change the trail much. Heria has a few haunts she likes best.”

  Gabrion took a deep breath. “I guess that settles it, then. We leave in the morning.”

  Chapter 6

  Hunting Heria

  It wasn’t, perhaps, the ideal situation, but Kitalla knew that finding Heria would be easier with a smaller group and waiting for the bard and mage to heal from their injuries would only make it harder to find her one-time companion. They left while Randler and Dariak slept deeply. After all their injuries, any sleep they received was necessary and it wasn’t worth disturbing them anyway.

  Silently, she rode her horse to the south, with Gabrion dutifully in tow. She was grateful he hadn’t asked any questions, despite being on the road for a few hours already. Although she might have picked up some information in Warringer, Kitalla opted to skirt around it, so as not to alert the local patrols. Their presence in the area was already known, and though she trusted their ability to escape unharmed, there wasn’t any sense in risking it.