Landmoor

by Jeff Wheeler

  “Well, it’s yours. You’d better get some sleep. It’s my turn for watch anyway – you don’t have to stay up with me. We’ll be pretty busy in the morning, looking for the clutch. I think we’ll find it this time.”

  It was time. “I don’t think they’ll let me help you find it,” Thealos stated in a quiet voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You heard Cropper and Hoth tonight, Tomn.” He dropped his voice even lower. “I think they’re going to kill me tomorrow.”

  “I won’t let them,” Tomn muttered, his face pained.

  “But what can you do? Even if I led them right to it, do you think they’d let me go? I could report you to the army commanders in Dos-Aralon. They know that.”

  “I think they’d let you go if you promised...”

  Thealos shook his head. “No, Tomn. I don’t think they will. I’m just a Shaden to them. If I help, then there’s no reason to keep me alive. Don’t you see? I lose either way.”

  “I could cut you loose,” the cook suggested. “Cropper just hates Shade…the Shae because a barter tricked him and his brother with a contract and they had to spend some time in jail. But I don’t think you’re all like that. You’re the first one I’ve ever really known.”

  “Then would you help me, Tomn?” Thealos pressed. “If I helped you?”

  “How? Cut your ankles loose now?”

  Thealos shook his head. “What if I took you to the clutch now. Tonight. After we’ve found it, you can let me go. I trust you, Tomn. I don’t trust them. You’d get first pick of the clutch too. Do they ever let you get the first choice?”

  Tomn’s eyes lit with eagerness. “You think you can find it, Thealos? In the dark?”

  “It would be easier for me in the dark,” Thealos promised, knowing that his eyes were glowing white-gold with firelight.

  IX

  Thealos had lost count how many days he had spent with Tannon’s Band. The night in Nordain’s council chamber was a blur in his memory, a fragment of time rubbed away by the bonds he had worn with the Aralonian soldiers. The back of his head still had a tender spot from the first of Cropper’s blows, but a knot had formed there. It would take at least another week to heal fully. Thealos glanced over his shoulder, watching as Tomn struggled through the screening trees in the dark. Pausing, Thealos grabbed the cook’s arm and helped him duck beneath a clawing branch that would have scraped across his face.

  “Ban, it’s so dark,” Tomn whispered, his voice edged with panic. He’d never been out in the woods at night before, not without a lantern or a torch.

  “We’ll be all right,” Thealos assured him, maneuvering around a slanted boulder. Tomn stumbled, but Thealos caught him and helped him gain his feet. The maple trees were huge and twisted, their branches interlocking and blotting out the sky and stars. The blue glow of Eroth peeked through the gaps of leaves and branches providing just enough light for Thealos.

  “Do you…do you think the Sinew dragon is dead?” Tomn asked worriedly.

  “Yes,” Thealos replied with confidence in his voice. “Stop here a moment. I need to get another bearing.” He lowered his cowl and heard the wind rustling the leaves, Tomn’s ragged breathing, the shrill call of an owl. No sounds of pursuit. Thealos was grateful for every moment, though he was not truly concerned about their ability to find him in the dark. He just didn’t want to hurry.

  Kneeling in the damp earth, Thealos closed his eyes and plunged his hands into the gritty mud. Tomn huffed from the journey. Thealos listened patiently, feeling through the inky swirls of Forbidden magic staining the mud, a magic that had scarred the land and destroyed the trees and life within the small forest. If the Sinew dragon was dead, the land would finally begin drinking from the Earth magic again. Then it would regain its health. His fingers went quickly numb from the cold mud, but he probed deeper, trying to feel the right pulse. He wasn’t searching for Earth magic or Forbidden magic. He looked for something else. He heard it then, faintly, beckoning him nearer to the river. Silvan magic – the kind that the Crimson Wolfsmen had. It was a chord of purity in the darkness. He smiled and opened his eyes.

  “Did you find it? Is it…singing to you, Thealos?”

  Thealos wiped his hands on his pants and nodded. “We’re close, Tomn.”

  As they started into the trees once more, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. It was barely a shadow, something blacker than the woods. Whirling, he slipped out his small hunting bow, an arrow at the ready. A feeling prickled on the back of his neck, going straight down his spine. He didn’t see anything. But he knew something was there – watching him.

  “What is it?” Tomn gasped, drawing a dagger from his belt.

  “I saw something,” Thealos said, certain of it. He studied the darkness, scanning the stretch of gnarled maple trees to his left and right. He saw Tomn as clearly as a camp fire in the middle of a field. Breathing slowly, he let his vision drift, trying to catch another glimpse of that puzzling movement. Where was it? He knew something was in the forest with them. Fear bloomed in his stomach.

  “Maybe it’s Cropper,” Tomn whispered. “He’s good at sneaking around.”

  Thealos remembered this feeling. It had happened in the streets of Dos-Aralon. It was happening again.

  “I don’t think so. Follow me, quickly.”

  Thealos pressed deeper into the maze of gullies and washes. His bow was ready. In the distance, he could hear the gentle rush of the river. Risking a backward glance, he tried to see what was stalking them. Had it followed him all the way from the human city? Or was it just now finding him again? Thealos didn’t know what it was. But he felt it, a presence in the darkness. Something living but that couldn’t be seen by a Shae. It terrified him that something like that could exist.

  “Ban it,” Tomn cursed, stumbling in a rut and landing on his arms. He massaged his elbows and righted himself. They crossed a thin grove, hopping over a small ravine to the other side. Each step brought them closer to the churning murmur of the river.

  Then Thealos heard the noise in the distance. Tannon’s camp had been roused. A cry of alarm went up, followed by shouts and curses. Thealos squeezed his eyes shut and nearly swore in frustration. They were so close he could feel the Silvan magic beneath his boots. Without his money, without his dagger, he needed the weapon that the Crimson Wolfsman had trusted to save him from the Sinew dragon. The trust had failed, but he knew the magic was waiting, dormant. He could taste it in the air now, a coppery flavor of metal and fire.

  “I told you! I warned you Tannon, but you wouldn’t listen to me!” It was Cropper’s voice, bitter and angry and distant.

  “Find them,” the angry leader roared. “Find them both!”

  Tomn’s voice was a frantic whisper. “Are we almost there? They’re as mad…”

  “We’re close,” Thealos promised, scanning the trees ahead. Rising from the gully ahead of him, Thealos caught the glimmer of cool blue light. It was dim – so faint it could have been the moon reflecting in a pond. But the light caught his eyes and held them. He crushed the urge to dash forward and approached cautiously. The glow did not change.

  “There! Do you see it, Tomn?” he asked, pointing towards the light.

  Tomn squinted. “See what?”

  He smiled. “When you found the dead Wolfsman, was it this close to the river?”

  “I…I think so. I couldn’t find it in the dark. Not now. You know where it is?”

  Thealos squeezed his arm. “Follow me.”

  They went forward and came to another gully. Peering down into it, Thealos saw the glow coming from the water of a small pond at one end. Bracken swirled on the surface and the gully water trickled slowly on the far side of it, passing around a thick mesh of mud and leaves that bulged from the pond. Something was damming the gully, creating the little pond. His eyes grew wide. Rising from the earth nearby, he heard the mournful sound of death before jerking his head. He saw the crumpled skeleton of a dead Shae not
twenty paces away. Gripping the fringe of swamp grass for support, Thealos lowered himself down the gully wall. He landed with a little splash in ankle-deep water and his feet sank in the mud. He pulled the arrow back, bending the bow quietly with a broadhead arrow ready to fly.

  Thealos walked a few paces. “The Wolfsman is over here,” Thealos said, hurrying to the body. He breathed faster, listening to the sounds of pursuit in the woods. It would take Tannon and the others a little while to track them.

  “How in Pitan did you find it?” Tomn muttered in astonishment. He followed Thealos down and crouched down in the mud. “This is it! Sweet hate, you found it!” His grin was triumphant.

  Thealos examined the body quickly. It had been robbed of all value and recognition. Its bones moldered in the damp swamp. A small dusting of leaves and leeches covered it, and Thealos quickly brushed them off like roach moths on a cloak. He traced the bones with his finger, feeling the potency of the Wolfsman’s agonizing death sting his nose like pepper. His eyes watered.

  “We didn’t kill him,” Tomn promised, seeing the tears in Thealos’s eyes.

  “I know. Looks like the Sinew dragon surprised him. Took his leg off.” The bone was snapped and splintered, mid-thigh. “He must have dragged himself this far before collapsing.” Thealos sighed. “He bled to death, Tomn. Quickly.”

  “Oh. Did he die…right?”

  Thealos shook his head. Kneeling quietly in the mud, he crossed his hands before him. “Keasorn in Eroth,” he prayed softly, using the ancient tongue of his people, “Welcome the soul of Jade Shayler back to your light and face. He died with your love in his heart.” He swallowed, steeling himself. “Shenalle protect us from the Firekin. Shenalle protect us and keep us. Shenalle bring peace to the troubled…”

  A bobbing streak of light went through the trees at the top of the gully. Thealos could hear Tannon’s band fighting the twisted maples, searching their direction. Cropper’s voice was raw and furious.

  Thealos clenched his teeth and hurried the rest of the prayer. “Keasorn guide my arrows. Keasorn give me courage to strike my enemy. Vannier grant me luck. Vannier give me cunning. In the name of the three gods, grant my prayer.”

  “Thealos,” Tomn warned. “They’re coming!”

  Opening his eyes, Thealos swallowed his impatience. He left the broken skeleton in the gully brook and went back to the pond. From above, he hadn’t seen it very clearly. From the bottom, he could easily see the mound blocking the flow of the brook. It looked like a tree had fallen into the gully, but its long shape was twisted and contorted. Raising the bow, he aimed for the bulge. He let it fly.

  The arrow penetrated the mud, sticking into something solid. He waited and Tomn watched curiously. “The dragon is dead. Come on, Tomn, help me dig it out.” He slid the bow around his shoulder.

  Crossing into the pond, the two dug into the earth with their hands. Mud slid down Thealos’ arms, but it also fell away from the stiff bony hide of a Sinew dragon. There was no Life magic pulsing beneath the shell-like scales. Turning, he plunged his hands into the mud at the bottom of the shallow pond. The water went up to his elbows and then up higher. Dropping to his knees, not caring how wet he got, he dug his fingers toward the eye sockets. The light grew brighter as he sifted through the water and debris. And then, between two bony knobs, he touched the hilt of a sword. Silvan magic screamed in his ears.

  “They went this way,” Jurrow panted. “See? Two sets of tracks. Can’t be far, Tannon!”

  “I’ll kill that rook,” Tannon roared. “I’ll split his head in half!”

  “Quit gabbing!” Hoth seethed. “Beck, over here. I think I see something.”

  Gritting his teeth, Thealos heaved at the sword. It wouldn’t budge. He turned around, straddling where he thought the neck of the dragon was, and bent his knees. “Help me lift it,” he urged Tomn. The water soaked his cloak and pants. Keeping his back straight, he clamped his fingers over the dragon’s snout and lifted again. Tomn dug into the mud behind him and hoisted. Thealos felt the tendons in his neck bulge with the strain, and it started to move. The mud hissed and gurgled and it came higher and higher.

  He let out his breath and then tugged again, feeling the strain on his calves and arms and back. “Keasorn, please!” he groaned. They came up suddenly – sword and dragon head, both with a splash. A glare of blue light stung his eyes as the blade shimmered in the night air. It was a Silvan short sword of such workmanship that he gasped. The hilt had the impression of a wolfs-head with two glittering green-blue gems as eyes. There was no rust or tarnish, and its blade was keen and sharp. The blade was aimed down, lodged in the dragon’s skull right over the eye sockets.

  “Sweet, holy Achrolese!” Tomn whispered in shock, staring at the Crimson Wolfsman blade. “Look at it!” His eyes shone with greed and astonishment. “It must be worth a thousand pieces…worth a kingdom!”

  “Look!” It was Jurrow’s voice, and then he heard the sound of boots dashing towards the gully. “It’s brighter than the moon. Over there!”

  Thealos stared at the weapon. There was probably other treasure around in the clutch, probably deep in the bottom of the swamp. He had led them right to it. But how could he give Tomn such a noble weapon – a weapon of fine steel and charmed with Silvan magic? Its power belonged to the Shae, not to the humans who desecrated everything they touched.

  The weapon looked almost hot to touch, so Thealos used the hem of his cloak and wrapped it around the blade. The light winked out as he folded the cloak around it. Then planting his foot on the dragon’s snout, he yanked the hilt. It grated free and he could feel it tingling beneath the cloth.

  “Give it to me!” Tomn insisted, his palm reaching. He trembled with anticipation. His eyes danced with emotion. “Sweet Achrolese, let me touch it! Give it to me!”

  “Ban it!” Hoth screamed, “It’s gone. Tannon – the lantern!”

  “Tomn…” Thealos hedged. The cook lunged for it, but the mud-sucking pond slowed him. Thealos retreated towards the fallen Wolfsman, feeling the Silvan steel’s reassurance. The blade belonged to the Shae.

  “Give it to me!” Tomn roared, anger now sparking in his eyes. “You promised!”

  “Tomn,” Thealos hedged again. “This is a Shae weapon. I led you to the clutch. Please, the others are coming…”

  “You banned liar!” Tomn shrieked. “You bleeding liar! Cropper was right! You knew…you knew about this all the time! I…I believed you!”

  “Believed what?” Thealos demanded, his patience snapping. “You stole my money, my weapons! You held me against my will. Your friends were going to kill me. Listen to me, Tomn. A weapon like this doesn’t belong with your people. You don’t know anything about this kind of magic. It would destroy you.”

  “Liar!” Tomn cursed, holding his dagger out. “Nothing but liars. Tannon!” he screamed. “Over here!”

  A beacon of lamplight shot across the trees overhead. They were at least forty paces away and charging. The gully was tight and would be easy for them to follow. He had to make it into the forest. By the time they found his trail, he would be out of the wood and running. If he could keep ahead of them, he would make it to Sol and then to the Shae in Jan-Lee. Then he would be safe.

  “I’m sorry, Tomn,” Thealos said coldly. “But this is mine.”

  Rage twisted on the cook’s face. He flailed at Thealos, swiping the dagger in the air before him, trying to stab the elusive Shae as he retreated deeper into the gully.

  Boots cracked the twigs and roots behind him.

  Spinning around, Thealos saw Beck and Hoth sliding down the gully wall, cutting off that way of retreat. They looked furious. Gripping the bundle under his arm, he unslung the short bow.

  “This way! Over here!”

  Thealos ducked to the outside of Tomn’s thrusting dagger and swung the short bow around, cracking it against the side of his head. It dazed him, just enough for Thealos to slip by. He was halfway across the pond when Tannon’s lantern r
eached the scene, throwing light across his back. He slogged through the pond, struggling to reach the other side where he could run.

  “Cropper, get him! Hoth and Beck, he’s right there!”

  Thealos knew he’d never make it, not with that light exposing him. He let the bundle drop and slipped a steel-tipped arrow out of his quiver. Aiming, he shot at Tannon. The arrow hit the lantern, spinning it out of the soldier’s grip, spraying oil and shards of glass as it sailed into the trees. As the flame hissed out, the soldiers hooted with dismay as darkness blanketed the gully. The glare of the Silvan short sword was dim beneath the waters of the pond. It sank quickly.

  Scanning the edge of the gully, Thealos found Cropper running ahead of him and launched another arrow with a feeling of overdue vengeance. Cropper grunted with pain as the arrow tore into his ribs, and he fell to the gully floor in a heap.

  “He got Cropper!” Tannon bellowed. “Kill him! Kill the rook!”

  Plunging into the pond, Thealos used his cloak and wrapped the blade up in it again. He took time to stuff it into his belt before wading through the pond towards the other side, closer to the river. If he could make it to the Trident, he could lose them downstream. Dripping and soaking, Thealos scampered down the gully floor, away from Tannon and Beck and Hoth. They were close, but the dark would hide him. Passing over Cropper, he didn’t see the knife waiting for him.

  Pain sent fire up his leg as the wounded soldier dug a dagger into his thigh. The arrow had stunned and wounded him, not killed him.

  “You Shaden whelp!” Cropper seethed, stabbing him again. “You stinking, bleeding Shaden!”

  Thealos was bleeding. The pain crumpled his leg and he went down, dropping the bow. He felt the dagger sink into his leg again as he twisted to free himself. He kicked Cropper in the face, as hard as he could. He felt the man’s jaw snap and it sickened him. Tannon and the others were hurrying over to help. Tomn shrieked like a madman, yelling that the blade was his.

  Thealos grabbed the gnarled veins of tree roots exposed on the gully wall and pulled himself to his feet. The dagger stuck into his leg painfully. He wouldn’t be able to run now. He had to fight them or die. He pulled the dagger out of his leg and tossed it.