Landmoor

by Jeff Wheeler

  She breathed more slowly. Pulling the cloak tighter, she raised the hood to cover her hair. Where were the Kiran Thall? How close behind? Her ears strained for sounds of pursuit, but she heard nothing. She stood and started walking away. The soft brushing of the cloak against her hair was the only sound as she walked towards the main street where she could find the Wee Kirke again. The streets were nearly barren, but there were a few who had been drinking who sang and staggered down the way. Turning down a major street, she walked north until she recognized the weaponsmith shop. From there, she hurried around it to the alley it shared with the inn. The noises of the inn were still loud and boisterous. Letting down the cowl, she stepped up on the small stone ledge on the wall and pulled herself up on the roof. Carefully, she went to the window. It creaked softly. She paused, listening.

  All was silent.

  Planting her palms on the window sill, Ticastasy jumped up and sat on the edge. Sliding her legs inside the room, she dropped to the floor. Her hands trembled as she lit the lamp and trimmed it.

  There was an old man in black robes standing against the door, regarding her with interest. She froze.

  “There is someone waiting to see you, my dear,” he said. The window swung shut by itself and the latch fastened.

  XXIX

  Allavin Devers dropped to a crouch and touched the thin outline of a bootprint in the soft hillside dirt. He traced two of his fingers along the earth and then pointed to a bent clump of stettleweed and another bootprint. He smiled up at Flent. “Thealos is banned good at stepwalking. I almost didn’t see these.”

  “What about Justin?” Flent asked, folding his arms. He looked off into the mist and scrunched up his shoulders.

  “His trail is hard to follow too, but he’s still with Thealos.” Allavin gazed into the mist. “The tracks are about two hours old. We’ve made good time catching up.”

  Flent dropped down on his knee and studied the print. “No Kiran Thall?”

  “No Kiran Thall.”

  “That’s good.” He wiped his nose.

  Allavin kept low to the earth and followed the set of prints he had re-discovered. Kiran Thall had crisscrossed the trail several times since the two Shae had left the Shadows Wood, but they didn’t appear to have picked it up. Allavin was careful and had to keep reminding Flent to step on hard clumps of moor grass rather than the soft mud of the slopes. The trail led them towards the river, curling around the western face of the hill where Landmoor sat. With all the mist that morning, their movements were hidden.

  “Doesn’t make any sense,” Allavin mused, scratching the back of his neck. “Looks like they’re wandering around the base rather than trying to find the Iron Point Road.”

  Flent stared up at the thinning mists. “Maybe they’re lost.”

  “It’s possible. The mist was thicker when they were here, and they don’t know the valley that well. Hmmm. Look over there, now that’s...those are horse tracks. Hate!”

  Allavin and Flent hurried over to the tromping mess of hoofprints and smashed grass. “At least a dozen riders. Maybe more, it’s pretty messy. Sons of fire, they caught the trail right here.”

  Flent withdrew his heavy axe and patted it against his palm. “Can you tell what happened?”

  “Give me a moment,” Allavin replied, bending near the earth and studying the web of tracks. He was careful to skirt around the mess of churned mud and grasses and waved Flent over to join him. “No, they just found the trail. Lucky fools, just stumbled onto it. Ban!” Allavin fumed. He and Flent were still two hours behind the two Shae, and the Kiran Thall tracks were fresher than that. They were still too far from the city’s northern gatehouse. He couldn’t understand why they weren’t looking for the road.

  “Come on,” Allavin said, preparing his long bow. He bent forward, not bothering to conceal his own tracks, and followed the trail of tracks around the side of the hill.

  The mist thinned quickly. Allavin jogged, slowing his pace evenly so that Flent could keep up with him. The Drugaen stared ahead into the mist, searching. The mist and the sharp angle of the hill slope concealed sounds very well.

  The noise of hooves thudding in the dirt came from directly ahead just moments before a riderless horse cantered out of the mist, its reins dragging in the moor grass. Allavin dropped to one knee and almost brought it down with an arrow, but he saw that the animal wandered aimlessly. A quiver of crossbow shafts hung from the saddle horn along with riding supplies and a blanket. Frowning, Allavin looked at Flent and motioned to follow. What was going on?

  Just around the next outcropping of rock, he had his answer.

  The Kiran Thall lay dead. The horses had already scattered, but the riders lay in their blood. Flent looked at the mess with stern eyes, gripping the axe haft, ready to fight. It had been over for a while. Allavin spied a cave in the side of the rock. An inlet of some kind. The Kiran Thall were in heaps all around it. He approached one of the fallen horsemen that had an arrow protruding from his ribs. Stepping on the man’s chest, he yanked the arrow out. A broadhead. One of Thealos’. He quickly scanned the number of dead. Eleven in all.

  “How in Keasorn’s name…” the tracker stammered and then saw another of the dead. The words caught in his throat.

  The air smelled sick with blood and charred flesh. The flies were just finding the spot. By noon, they would be swarming. But what turned the tracker’s stomach wasn’t the blood. Staring down at another fallen horsemen, he saw a man with a smoking black hole in his chest. The man’s face was transfixed with terror. Allavin blinked, vividly remembering the look on Tiryn’s face when he died – the same frozen expression of agony. Seven others were dead, struck by some fiery magic. Judging from the tracks, it looked as though one Kiran Thall had made it away alive. The others were downed by arrows.

  Allavin crouched next to the body. In his mind’s eye, he saw the flash of blue lightning as it struck his Shae companions one by one. Such awful, terrible magic. The blue light still burned behind his eyes. Then he remembered something else.

  “Justin,” he said in a near whisper.

  “Justin did this?” Flent demanded, prodding the dead man with his boot.

  Allavin stared into the inlet of stone and felt a coldness in his bones. Maybe Jaerod was wrong about the Warder Shae being an ally.

  * * *

  "They’re close!” Thealos hissed in Silvan, struggling to keep up with the Warder Shae. “I can’t tell how many horsemen.”

  Justin never slowed. “They mean nothing to us. Quickly now. We are near the entrance.”

  “Are you sure?” Thealos asked. His lungs heaved from the run. Justin didn’t even appear winded. He glanced over his shoulder, expecting to see the Kiran Thall come bounding out of the mist. “If we run towards the river, we can lose them again.”

  “They are nothing!” Justin snapped. “Here we are. Follow me. We will deal with the humans here.”

  Thealos followed around a large outcropping of rock. The hill angled steeply on this side. He couldn’t see the walls of Landmoor – at least not yet. But he felt the shape of the hill rising up like a mountain into the thick whirl of fog. Justin stopped at a small stone inlet at the base of the hill. The Warder Shae rubbed his hand along the smooth rock covered with thick moss. Tangled weeds littered the base of the hill, some nearly as tall as the reeds by the river.

  “This is the hidden entrance?” Thealos asked, studying the thick ruff of moss. It was rust-colored and slick. Certainly not Everoot. He put his hand on it, feeling the wetness and tickling texture of the moss.

  –Son of Quicksilver–

  Thealos jerked his hand away.

  “Yes, one of the hidden ones,” Justin explained, looking up at the archway. “It leads to the tunnels beneath the city. That is where you will find your proof. The humans roam the halls, but we will not be seen by them.” He scowled. “This is what is left of my home,” he added with bitterness.

  Thealos stared at the wall. He felt a pres
ence, a whispering through the earth that spoke to him. It was like sensing Silvan magic, except the feeling was so strong that it emanated from the rock itself. Like feeling the heat from a flame on his face – he knew it was there, but for some reason he couldn’t touch it. He glanced at Justin, but the Warder seemed oblivious to it.

  The stomping of horsemen approached in the thick swirling mists. Thealos brought up his hunting bow and nocked a broadhead. “They usually have crossbows.”

  The Warder Shae stood at the entrance of the tunnel, his back to the hillside. His arms were loose at his sides, his head bowed. Thealos felt the prickle and smell of Earth magic rise up from the moorlands, drawing into Justin like water. The first horsemen appeared out of the fog, the rider a Kiran Thall. The horse shied and the rider controlled it. His crossbow leveled at them. Others appeared, forming a half-circle, pinning them against the inlet. Thealos swallowed, keeping his bow ready, watching the lead soldier.

  Justin raised his head and looked at them. His eyes were glowing.

  “Put down the bow…” the soldier started when a streak of blue lightning sprang from Justin’s hands, throwing the rider off the horse. The gelding shrieked, flailing hooves madly in the air. Kiran Thall shouldered their crossbows and triggered the releases. Thealos shut his eyes and flinched, but the bolts spattered harmlessly against the rocks behind them. The blue lightning struck again, smashing into another soldier, killing him.

  The rush of Earth magic in the air smelled like taper shavings. Justin channeled the magic, bringing it to being inside him before loosing it on the humans with crackling swiftness. Thealos let the arrow loose, dropping a rider. He took aim again and again, catching more as they whirled to flee. Justin brought down the rest. When it was finished, a haze of acrid smoke lingered in the air.

  The Warder Shae lowered his hands and the Earth magic settled back down into the grass and mud. Thealos stared at him in awe. “I thought that only worked against Forbidden magic,” he whispered, remembering the Krag Drugaen in the Shadows Wood. He watched Justin’s shoulders slump. He looked even frailer. “Does it…hurt you?”

  A half-smile twitched on Justin’s mouth. “It’s not without a price,” he answered. “It never is.” He examined the field of the dead and then turned dispassionately to Thealos. “There is no time to bury them. I do not have the strength for it. Follow me.”

  Thealos joined him at the inlet of stone. He stared at the sculptured walls, squinting in the shade. There was a feeling beneath the scrub of moss. A familiar feeling. Mud and debris littered the stone floor. Thealos looked around, gazing at the structure. “This was a holy place?” he whispered.

  “The ruins of a shrine,” Justin explained. “The humans have already desecrated it. They use it to bring the Everoot into the tunnels. So many of them.” He shook his head and glared contemptuously. “It would destroy me to kill that many. Come, this way.”

  Thealos paused, feeling a whisper of magic beneath his boots. Calling to him. A prickle of apprehension went down his spine. Not a Sleepwalker – but the presence of Silvan magic.

  –Son of Quicksilver–

  “Do you hear anything?” Thealos asked, catching up with Justin.

  The Warder Shae cocked his head. “No.”

  Thealos nodded and followed him down a narrow path carved into the rock, leading to a stretch of stone steps. They started up towards the ruins of the Shae watchpost buried within the hillside.

  * * *

  "It was difficult for Thealos to concentrate on anything except the constant murmurings of the magic. A presence in the broken tunnels, the magic twisted loose his feelings and thoughts. Thealos recognized Silvan symbols carved into the rock. The markings were centuries old, detailing the layout of the ruined watchpost. The floor was broken and uneven, which made the journey difficult. Portions of the tunnels had collapsed, exposing hunks of stone from the upper floors. Thealos folded his arms for warmth in the clammy passageways. Moonstones glowed faintly on the floor and walls, offering just enough light for their Shae eyes to see. Muddy puddles collected in cracks and seams, and corridors split off from the main one the deeper in they went. It had the feeling of a tomb and sent cold chills up Thealos’ arms.

  –I am the Silverkin Crystal–

  Thealos listened and felt another shudder of apprehension. It was a voice no louder than the softest whisper, but it sent shivers through his skin and a burning feeling inside his chest. It invoked feelings so strongly that he blinked back tears. He was terrified of what it was doing to him. It knew he was there. It called to him soothingly, yet the power beneath it was frightening. It wanted to be freed from the warding. It sensed Forbidden magic and wanted to destroy it.

  –Come, Son of Quicksilver–

  Thealos squeezed his eyes shut, trying to banish the voice inside his head. He knew where it was. Just touching the stone wall, he felt its pulse, its life. The magic was alive, there was no doubt in that. It was awake and needful. The Silverkin needed him as much as he needed it. Thealos didn’t tell Justin what he was feeling. The way the Silverkin spoke to him was private and personal.

  The slope of the tunnels rose at a steep angle in several stretches, bringing them higher up the hillside. Thealos had no idea how far they had traveled or how high up they were, but deep ahead in the tunnels he heard voices. Justin paused for a moment and then motioned for Thealos.

  “There are side passages to avoid the humans,” the Warder said. “Follow me.”

  Turning to the right, they circled around the main tunnel and followed the twisting passageways. The tunnels were full of rooms without any doors. Moisture dripped from the ceiling tiles, splunking noises that irritated Thealos. The sound of the Bandit soldiers grew sharper as they went, but it came from the main passageway. Reaching the end of the new corridor, they stopped to investigate.

  At least fifty men carrying heavy oak chests worked their burdens down the main passage. Even from afar, Thealos could feel the Silvan magic contained within the chests. They were full of Everoot. Justin scowled, studying the humans with disdain. The soldiers walked away from the main corridor, up a path lit with brilliant torchlight. Justin’s eyes reflected the light and glowed in the darkness.

  “That tunnel you see – it is the main crossroads on this side of the city,” Justin whispered. “It leads to the rest of the tunnels in the center. The humans have made different entrances to the tunnels from above. I have not explored them all, but it is sufficient to say that they can enter the ruins of this Watchpost easily.”

  Thealos pressed his hand against the wall and felt the magic sing to him. “Where is the warding?” he asked.

  “Down the corridor we were on – this one,” he said, pointing. “But it is guarded by an Otsquare. You may not be able to enter it.”

  Thealos nodded, but he didn’t doubt it for a moment. The whispering voices in his mind gave him the confidence that he could. “Show it to me.”

  After watching the Bandits disappear down the side aisle leading towards the center of the city, the two Shae left their shelter and took to the main passage again.

  –I have been waiting for you–

  Thealos clenched his teeth, feeling the presence of the magic grow stronger. The tunnel became less disturbed the further they went. Fewer muddied tracks littered the floor, showing that the halls were seldom patrolled. Thealos felt the kinship with the Crystal more keenly, its need growing even stronger. How far away was it? It felt close.

  It was like walking into an ice-crusted pond. The tunnel hadn’t changed, but a biting wash of dread struck Thealos in the pit of the stomach. Justin hesitated, too.

  “What was that?” Thealos whispered. The reek of Forbidden magic curled around him like smoke.

  “We just breached a warding.”

  “What did it do?”

  The Warder Shae frowned. “I don’t know. It wasn’t here before.”

  Thealos looked back the way they came. “I don’t like this.”

 
; Justin nodded. “It was put here by someone for a reason. But not to stop us. A Death Warding would have been instant. This one is...different. As if to warn someone we were here.”

  Thealos gripped the hilt of his weapon. “Are we almost there?”

  Again Justin nodded. Together, they started jogging down the rest of the tunnel. The presence of Forbidden magic grew stronger and stronger. A cold sweat began to form on Thealos’ forehead. The smell of the Forbidden magic drowned out everything but the Silverkin’s voice. It only intensified.

  –I will protect you from the Firekin–

  Faster!

  The broken floor tiles tripped him, almost spilling Thealos to the ground. He kept his balance and pressed onward. The smell of Forbidden magic made him want to retch. He nearly did. Justin also looked queasy, and he brought up his hands into a defensive position. Earth magic swelled around him, but it was pale compared to the intensity of the power ahead. He couldn’t speak. Where was it? How much further? Far down the corridor, Thealos saw a blue light.

  –I will protect you–

  He knew what it was. Just ahead, amid the broken stones and putrid rock, he saw a stone archway suspended by two pillars sculpted like massive gryphons. The light came from within the archway. It was as blue as the moon Eroth, except the light was painful to look at. Like staring at the sun at noonday.

  Squinting, Thealos approached the pillars. The light drowned out details, blurring the pathway to follow. He felt the Silverkin screaming to him, louder and louder. He could not make out the words, but he felt the impact of them. Something wasn’t right. It was warning him, beckoning him to rush to seize the magic entombed inside. Thealos wanted to scream.

  Something moved in the blue light.

  Both of the Shae stopped, trying to get a look at it. The raw shadow of Forbidden magic knifed into them.

  “No,” Justin said, his eyes bulging with panic.