by Jeff Wheeler
Kitrey, Watcher Lor of the Inland, nodded in agreement. “Would you like us to find the boy and bring him to you in Sol, Xenon?”
Xenon shook his head curtly. “No, I owe him and his companion a debt for the brother we lost in Sol.”
“But we’ve seen no sign of the Sleepwalker who was…”
“No one has,” Xenon interrupted. He turned to another brother in the quaere. “Did you see sign or track of the man coming down from Avisahn when you followed the boy’s trail?”
“No, Lor Xenon. It appeared to the very earth herself that the boy walked alone. There were no tracks from the gully to the campsight either. It’s a Warder trick, I think.”
Xenon nodded with satisfaction. “I do not know what powers he has, but the Sleepwalker is here, luring the boy into the Shoreland. It may take all three of our quaere’s strength to find and subdue them. The Sunedrion is insistent. We hunt them.”
The other glowing eyes narrowed with enthusiasm. Reaching to the pommels of their leaf-bladed short swords, they shared a communion of strength. Silvan magic welled up, making the grove glimmer with cool blue light. Xenon showed them his memories of the Sleepwalker and how he fought.
“He fights like us,” one of the brothers from Kitrey’s quaere murmured.
“No,” Kitrey answered. “But it is similar. It is the old way. Who would have wasted such teachings on a human though? What a loss in…years. He’ll be a withered leaf before long, Xenon. Then maybe you’ll be able to catch up with him.”
A murmur of laughter sung in the grove. Xenon smiled, sharing the savor of the joke through the magic’s bond. It was not a taunt against Xenon as it was against the human he had faced. He will not be so lucky when we next cross swords, he promised himself.
“Should we send a hawk to Nordain?” another brother asked. “He’s waiting word of Kil-Quickfellow’s arrest.”
Xenon shook his head no. “When we have the boy. When we have him.”
He kicked at the mound of stinking ashes and the lamps around the grove dimmed into blackness until only the pale threads of moonlight were visible. The Crimson Wolfsmen began to hunt again.
* * *
Thealos had never called a Shaefellow Pax on his own before, but he knew the ritual well enough from Correl that he was confident he could do it. He understood immediately why the Sleepwalker wanted him to call the Pax. It was the quickest and easiest way to call a truce between him and Allavin Devers. It struck Thealos as odd how Jaerod didn’t put himself in the forefront of things. He seemed to go out of his way to give Thealos the opportunity to lead and to be recognized for it. Regardless of his motives, Jaerod’s plan was a good one.
The warm blast of hearthfire air greeted Thealos as he entered the Catpaw from the rear doors. The humans called the Pax a ‘Truce Bargain.’ No weapons or magic permitted, only words. The results weren’t as decisive or glorious as a battlefield victory – at least not to the humans – but the Shae preferred to conclude matters with peace if possible. Under the authority of Vannier, the Pax were used to create long-lasting ties between barters, partnerships and covenants that neither side would dare break – human or Shae. Thealos remembered one human merchant in Dos-Aralon who had broken a Pax with Correl. Both Shae and human stopped trading with him, and before the year was out, the man was ruined.
As Thealos entered the common room, he stared out over the tense faces. Ticastasy watched him from the table, her head cocked, her eyes intense. Flent was engrossed in a game of Bones, but Justin had raised his head when Thealos re-entered the room.
“Is everything all right?” Talbin whispered on his left, his eyes darting to the table with Sturnin and Allavin.
“It will all be fine,” Thealos assured him. “Do you have a separate room in the back that is free?”
“Yes, do you need to use it?” When Thealos nodded, the innkeeper continued, “I’ll get you the key. Do what you need to do.”
Thealos stepped towards the table and called their attention to him. He swallowed, trying to remember all the words he was supposed to use. “As Thealos Quickfellow of Avisahn,” he said, “I am calling a Shaefellow Pax – a Truce Bargain.” As much as he didn’t want to pronounce himself in front of strangers – where he was certain Nordain would find out about it – he had to follow the proper initiation. “The Pax concerns what has brought us here thus far and the Rebellion against the kingdom of Dos-Aralon. If you wish to attend, you must leave your weapons with the innkeeper and follow me to another room. If not, it is by your own choice.” He gave Sturnin a level look. “Not even a dagger.”
Their eyes were fastened on him. Thealos scanned his companions, judging for a reaction. He went over to Justin and whispered to him in Silvan that Jaerod would be meeting them soon and to follow him. The Warder Shae nodded suspiciously and scooped up his robes, following Thealos back to where Talbin waited with a key.
“You’re calling a Pax?” Justin asked quietly in Silvan.
Thealos nodded. “It’s the only way we can all meet without killing each other.”
Removing his hunting knife and Wolfsman blade, Thealos wrapped them in a blanket and handed them to the innkeeper. “Hold these for me.” He took the key from Talbin and started towards the rear of the inn.
“You are truly calling a Pax?” Allavin called out from the table, his voice betraying his surprise.
Thealos stopped and nodded to the tracker. “You’ve been to one, haven’t you?”
“To several,” the tracker replied, rising from the table. “But never to one called in a human city. Or never without a Shae battle commander present.” Allavin appraised Thealos shrewdly, then left his yew bow and quiver at the table and went to Talbin to turn in his Silvan-crafted sword. Thealos crossed the hall and unlocked the door. He lit the lamp and motioned for Justin to take the nearest seat. He leaned near him and promised to do his best to translate what was said. Arms folded, Thealos waited and watched as everyone came in. Allavin Devers, Ticastasy, Flent Shago, and Sturnin Goff. There were still plenty of chairs, but the room was cool and silent. They all stared at him.
Thealos trimmed the lamp oil, making the shadows richer. “I am not a Shae battle commander,” he said, giving Allavin a wry smile. “But the Pax is appropriate tonight considering the dangerous news I need to share with you. I called this Truce Bargain because you will all learn something that affects the peace and safety of this valley. It does concern the Bandit Rebellion. And it concerns the Shae as well.” Thealos carried the lamp in front of him and set it down on the table so that they could all see the glowing in his eyes. He stared at each one of them, as part of the Pax tradition, but only Justin’s eyes were also made to glow by the lamplight. “My people are not often trusted in this valley, though it is our homeland. I won’t contest whether it’s a reputation we’ve earned or not. The danger which threatens this valley threatens my people as well.” He looked at them seriously. “And so we’re involved. From Owen Draw to Sol.” A prickle went down his neck, and he knew Jaerod had entered the room even though he hadn’t heard him.
Allavin’s eyes widened with shock. Thealos glanced over at the door and saw Jaerod standing there, his sword belt gone. The medallion gleamed against his black tunic.
“What have you done?” Allavin whispered in horror, staring aghast at Thealos. It was the worst sort of treachery imaginable to murder at a Pax.
“I came without weapons,” Jaerod said in perfect Silvan. “I will abide by the Pax.”
Allavin scooted backwards, his chair screeching across the wood floor.
“Wait,” Thealos said, giving the woodsman a hard look. “I have not broken the Pax by calling this man here. He is a Shaefellow.”
“This man is a Shae killer,” Allavin whispered, a look of anger and fear wrestling for control.
“No,” Jaerod replied, shaking his head. He walked closer. “Never have I shed the blood of a Shae. Not once, in all my years.” His gray eyes glowered at Allavin. “What you faced in t
he Shadows Wood was not a Sleepwalker. I can promise you that.”
“How?” Allavin demanded. “How in the banned abyss can you promise me that?”
Thealos glanced at Sturnin and saw the look of determination on his face. The knight was judging whether he could take Jaerod without a weapon. The anger and tension in the room was sickening. Thealos stepped forward, cutting the quiet with his voice. “He has proof, Allavin. I asked him here to show it to us – to you. But I called a Pax. Do not forget that. The Shaefellow Pax forbid that any weapon be drawn in anger. There will be no fighting here. You must hear him out first. After you have listened, you may leave and do what you will. But not in here. If you profess to understand the culture of my people, you know you accepted it willingly.” He stared at Allavin. “You cannot violate it and remain a Shaefellow.”
Jaerod looked over at Thealos and nodded. He stepped back, letting some of the tension ebb from the room. He gave Thealos a commending smile. “If I didn’t know who you really were, Thealos, I’d have assumed you to be a member of the Sunedrion.”
Flent wiped his forehead and breathed out in relief. “Have a chair, Jaerod. There’s enough for us all.”
Allavin leaned back in the chair, his expression still coiled and tangled with doubt, but he gave the Sleepwalker a begrudging nod and held his tongue.
Sturnin spoke up. “I came to Castun to find you, Sleepwalker. But I won’t dishonor the Shae by condemning you before hearing you. Tell us what you know.” He leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
Jaerod glanced across the room, going over each of their faces. “I’ll stand, Flent. Thank you. My name is Jaerod of Safehome,” he began in the formal tradition of the Pax, but the name Safehome caused Allavin and Thealos to stare at him as if he’d uttered blasphemy. “I am known by your customs as a Sleepwalker, though that is not what we call ourselves. I do not work for the Gray Legion or have ties to generals or emperors. My loyalty is to the Shae of Safehome. My order is the guardians of Safehome, the Shae city that first came to this world a long time ago.”
“Came to this world?” Sturnin asked. “Or do you mean settled?”
“He means came,” Allavin answered with a look of disbelief. “I’ve heard the legends. The Shae say that they came to this world on a city in the clouds and that it will return and bring them away when their work here is finished.”
Thealos nestled back against the wall where he could see everyone clearly, including Jaerod. He folded his arms and listened. He knew of Safehome. But Allavin was right – it was a legend to even the Shae. How could he say he was from Safehome?
Jaerod sighed. “The Shae traditions you know tell a portion of it, not all. Safehome is not a city in a country or bordering the woodlands as you might expect. It is a city of peace. It did not leave the world with a promise to return. It never left. It abides here still.”
“I don’t understand,” Allavin said. “There are many Shae anxiously waiting for Safehome to return again.”
“I do not have much time tonight.” Jaerod’s expression was one of sadness. “Not enough to explain all that would be useful to you. Not enough to explain a hundredth of what I know about our enemies. And I am not here to tell you about Safehome and argue with you about what you may know of it. I am here because of your valley and what is happening here. I am not part of the Bandit Rebellion. Any part of it. War is beginning again in this land. A Bandit regiment has massed just south of us – about a day’s march away – in the heart of the Shadows Wood. It is the Shoreland regiment, one of Ballinaire’s three. The other two still threaten, but are not close enough to interfere yet. What threatens us this time is that Lord Ballinaire will not fight his war merely with weapons of steel and protect himself with armor. He has discovered in the Shadows Wood a remnant of Silvan magic – magic the Shae once controlled.”
Reaching into his black tunic, Jaerod withdrew the damp sack of Everoot. He tugged open the strings and emptied the sack into his palm. The green moss looked almost black in the shadows, except for the buds of blue and violet. Thealos heard it sing to him and felt its craving stir his blood.
The Sleepwalker’s eyes were unsettling. He looked at Allavin. “Is this what you saw in the Shadows Wood?”
Allavin nodded. “Yes, but we couldn’t get close enough…”
“No, of course not. Ballinaire has a Sorian to guard it. There is no way you would be able to sneak past one. But a Sleepwalker…” He let the thought dangle in the air with another wry smile. “We have ways of getting past even them. This plant…this powerful bit of Silvan magic –” He looked over the faces of those in the room before stopping and staring at Flent. “It can heal any wound. No matter how mortal.” His voice dropped to a soft whisper. “Do you remember how it healed you, Flent Shago?”
The Drugaen’s eyes widened. “That’s how Thealos healed me in Sol?”
Thealos met Flent’s look of surprise and nodded. He looked at Ticastasy. “You’ve seen it work too.”
“How does it heal?” the knight asked brusquely, stroking his mustache.
“It heals by touch,” Jaerod replied. “Press it against an injury. Chew on a stub for poisoning. Make it into tea for a fever.” He shrugged. “It heightens the senses, makes you keen and focused with Earth magic. But it needs water to rejuvenate itself. Simple, clean, water. As I said, the strongest of Silvan magics. It’s name is the same in both king’s common and Silvan. Everoot.”
Justin’s eyes widened at the word, and Thealos leaned over and quickly told him what Jaerod had been saying.
“How much does Ballinaire have?” Sturnin asked. “Just healing alone, it would benefit any army.”
“He has wheelbarrows full of it,” Allavin said, shaking his head. “They’re scraping it off the trees and rocks. There was a waterfall there, a…a grotto in the woods. They were shoveling it into crates. But when they washed away the mud, it speckled just like that,” he said, pointing a finger at the Everoot. “Just like that.” The memory seemed to haunt his eyes.
“The army of Dos-Aralon will not be defeated easily,” Jaerod warned, shaking his head. “The king can send ten legions if he musters his full strength and abandons the borders. But the Shoreland regiment is enough to bring it to its knees. Imagine it. A Bandit soldier – wounded in battle – only to rise again and keep fighting, strong and whole, the very next day. You could face the same army for days, for weeks. They never tire. They never die.” The Sleepwalker sighed. “Round after round of bloodshed and destruction, the smaller force whittling down and outflanking the stronger. But it does not stop there. It does not stop with Ballinaire defeating Dos-Aralon. No, the lure of the Everoot is strong. After they win, the Bandits will fight against the Shae, then the Drugaen. They will bring down the Yukilep and Iniva and force the Shoreland cities to combine. And then as it happened before it will happen again. They will turn on themselves, leaving ghosts to walk the valley.”
The banquet room was as quiet as ashes.
“It will happen again?” Ticastasy asked, her eyes intense and sad.
Jaerod scooped the Everoot back into the pouch and tied it up, concealing it back in the folds of his tunic. “I have been inside the Shae vaults in the city of Landmoor. It was once a mighty Watchpost, many centuries ago. Back during the days when this valley was one enormous forest that stretched from the Kingshadow to the Ravenstone.” He looked at Ticastasy. “Your ancestors came to this valley seeking refuge from a great devastation. They pleaded before the Shae king with bitter tears to grant them sanctuary from the destruction and hate that was afflicting their nation.” He smirked. “To be more exact, the humans had an Empire. The Empire of Sol-don-Orai.” Thealos saw confused looks from others in the room, except Justin, who started and gazed at Jaerod intensely. “Sol-don-Orai was one of the greatest, if not the greatest, human empire. They tamed magics that shadowed the power of the Druids of Parath-Anatos. There was a Sorian there, one who could invoke the greatest possibilities of Earth magic and
Firekin. The records in Landmoor, they speak of riches and wealth and power beyond the greatest Shae king’s court. An age of wisdom and opulence, the historians called it. But that wisdom was overcome by their own lust for power and magic. Yes, the Empire of Sol-don-Orai had tamed kingdoms and principalities with dazzling flying cities that could plunder and destroy, carrying armies great distances without fatigue. With a Sorian who could command nature and cause crops to yield the richest grain and fruits, this empire was unstoppable. But when they tried to control the Everoot, when they tried to seize what they had no right to control, it destroyed them. As magic always will when handled improperly.”
“You’re speaking too quickly, Sleepwalker,” Allavin said, shaking his head. “We’ve heard of Sol-don-Orai. At least I have. My understanding is that a great drought destroyed it five hundred years ago.”
“No,” Jaerod said. “Those who remember what happened to her were too ashamed to speak the truth.” He looked over at Thealos. “Except the Shae. Obviously Thealos is too young to have ever known of her. But your elcorrel knew Sol-don-Orai, and the Quickfellow name was known there.” He looked back to Allavin. “In the Watchpost of Citadellian, there are records dating back dozens of Silvan years. They describe the empire, though briefly. Landmoor was closest to Sol-don-Orai.” He stepped around a chair, his back towards them. “This Empire discovered too late what happens when Earth magic is controlled that should not be. As strong a gift as the magic is, it is also a curse. You see, if you deprive Everoot of water for more than a few days, it withers and dries. Its husk becomes a poison.” He turned back, his eyes dark with anger. “Deathbane. As vicious in death as any poison to be found in nature. Metal is powerless against it. The rust and decay it causes make an armored horseman a casualty more than a strength.” His eyes flickered to Sturnin Goff. “Arrows were made of the stuff. And entire legions of cavalry were hewn down like grass.