The Shadowhand Covenant

by Brian Farrey

  I held up my hand. “If the Palatinate wanted magical relics from the vaults, all they’d have to do is ask. The High Laird trusts them. They wouldn’t have to stage a break-in.”

  Reena’s eyes fell. “You’re right. We’re not any closer to figuring this out, are we?”

  “Let’s see what happens when we get to the Covenant chamber and find out who the traitor is. It’s all we’ve got right now.”

  We stepped from the corridor into a massive dining room with a large table and twelve chairs. Dylis yelled out in par-Goblin, turning away an army of hardglamour warriors in armor who had just started descending on us from the rafters above. We marched across the room.

  “Well, this is a good sign, isn’t it?” Da said brightly.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “All the defenses are active. Which means no one has been here for a while. I think whoever was looking for us gave up and left. Should be a breeze.”

  We finally came to an armory where a lethal assortment of swords, halberds, and maces hung from wooden racks on the walls. Dylis pointed across the room to a short hall that led into the Covenant chamber. Maloch positioned himself in the archway that led back to the dining room. Reena, Holm, and I stood in the center of the armory. Ma, Da, and Dylis approached the Covenant chamber.

  “I’ll go on alone,” Dylis said.

  “Can’t we see the chamber?” I asked. To be here in the Shadowhands’ hidden lair was thrilling enough. I’d been burning to see the innermost sanctum—the Covenant chamber—since I knew that was where we were headed.

  Ma shook her head. “This isn’t a defense Dylis can deactivate. Only a Shadowhand can enter the chamber. Anyone else who tries . . . Well, it’s not pretty.”

  Dylis took a torch, walked into the archway, and disappeared behind a sharp right curve. The rest of us waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  “What’s taking so long?” Maloch asked.

  I looked at Ma, whose face was marked with concern. “Maybe it takes a while to get to the chamber itself?” I replied.

  Ma shook her head. “As soon as she rounded that corner, she was in the chamber.”

  “Maybe she left through another door?” Reena said. It was clear that she didn’t trust Dylis.

  Again, Ma disagreed. “This doorway is the only way in or out of the chamber.”

  We looked at one another, the same thought forming in our heads. Had Dylis gone in and come face-to-face with the traitor—a Shadowhand who’d faked their disappearance and was now just waiting to dispatch us all in the most grisly manner possible?

  Ma brushed her hands together. “All right then. We’ve got no choice.”

  She held out her hand to Da. He frowned, then reluctantly handed her a thin, long dirk. Ma turned and moved to the doorway.

  “What are you doing?” I asked.

  Ma shushed me with a look. “I’m still bound to the Covenant,” she said softly. “Which means I can enter unharmed. Now listen. If I don’t come out, you won’t be able to help me. You have to get out of here as quickly as possible. You won’t have anyone to deactivate the defenses, so your best bet is to run as fast as you can to the exit. Understood?”

  Da was clearly not happy with this, but he nodded. The rest of us joined him. Ma smiled brightly. “Won’t be a moment. Carry on.”

  She walked through the archway and rounded the corner.

  Behind me, I heard a thud. I turned to find Maloch, unconscious on the floor, his hand gripping his neck.

  “Maloch!” Reena called out, running to him.

  “We have to go!”

  I spun around and saw Ma, already returned from the chamber, face white as a sheet.

  Da gripped her by the arms. “Dylis?”

  “She’s a glass statue. Had the Covenant in her hand . . . but it wasn’t the Covenant. It was a duplicate with a shimmerhex.”

  Shhk!

  The sound came from the hall leading to the dining room. Now Reena was unconscious, lying over Maloch. Just past them, hooded figures entered from the corridor, blowguns raised to their lips. Shhk! Shhk! Shkk!

  Holm crumpled over, followed by Da. The last thing I heard was Ma cry, “It’s a trap!” before a dart sank deep into my skin, just below my ear, and the world went black.

  PART THREE

  THE

  SOURCEFIRE

  22

  Underground. Again.

  “In the end, a skilled thief dresses as well as a castellan.”

  —Ancient par-Goblin proverb

  The Kolohendriseenax Formulary lists 168 different combinations of plants that can render someone unconscious when ingested, injected, or inhaled. I’d been subject to two in as many weeks. I didn’t like what that suggested for the days ahead.

  When I awoke, a headache volleyed back and forth between my eyes. The spot on my neck where the dart had entered felt like it was on fire. My legs tingled. All these symptoms pointed to one cause: our assailants had used yerrani to subdue us. A tricky poison. You had to use just the right amount if you wanted to render someone unconscious. Even a fraction too much and the result could be deadly.

  Our captors knew their herbs.

  I lifted my head and looked around. Terrific. Another cave. I was tired of caves. Just once I wanted to be held captive somewhere less dank. A dungeon, maybe. An island in a river of lava, perhaps. I made a note to avoid caves for quite some time when we got out of this.

  If we got out of this.

  Reena’s lantern burned bright, hanging from a hook dug into the earthen walls. Ma and Da were still unconscious, lying on the cave floor near a collection of stalagmites. Turning, I found that Maloch was awake, leaning with his back to the wall and struggling hopelessly with the manacle and chain around his ankle. I looked down and found a similar chain around my leg, the other end fused to a stalagmite. We were all wearing them. All except—

  “Where are Reena and Holm?” I asked, scanning the area.

  Maloch tugged at the manacle. “No idea. They were gone when I woke up.” He picked up a rock and began bashing the chain. When he missed and hit his shin, he howled.

  This woke Da. He propped himself up on one elbow, squeezing his eyes shut in pain. He shook his head. “Funny, I don’t remember indulging in ashwine.”

  “Better,” I said. “It’s yerrani.”

  Da wiped his nose. “Oh, lovely. That explains the pins and needles in my legs.” He looked at Ma. “Should we let her sleep it off?”

  “No way anyone could sleep with you three nearby,” Ma grumbled, stirring. Da helped her sit up.

  I looked around. “Doesn’t look like the Dagger. Unless it’s another hardglamour.”

  Da shrugged. “If they used yerrani, we’ve been unconscious at least a couple of days. They’ve had time to move us. No telling where we are.”

  “Who were they?” Maloch asked.

  As if in answer, three cloaked figures in hoods stepped into the cave from a nearby tunnel. One held a torch, while the other two laid pitchers filled with water at our feet.

  “Drink,” they said as one. Parched, we weren’t about to argue. Da handed the pitcher to Maloch, who drank greedily. Just as Maloch passed the pitcher to me, one of our captors unlocked the manacle on my leg and pulled me to my feet with a single, strong yank. He shoved me in the direction of the tunnel. With weak legs, I stumbled from the cave. The hooded figures followed, ignoring Ma’s and Da’s protests.

  Yes, I was definitely giving up caves for a very, very long time.

  The hooded figures led me into an egg-shaped cavern where stalactites hung like massive teeth. I looked around, and a wave of recognition nearly knocked me off my feet.

  Half a dozen tents huddled in the center of the chamber. A circle of torches marked the boundaries of the site. It reminded me of the Sarosan camp, only much, much smaller. As if to confirm my suspicions, the hooded figures threw off their cloaks to reveal three very tall, lean men. Their sleeveless
shirts, torn breeches, and long hair told me they were, in fact, Sarosans.

  “Jaxter!”

  Reena emerged from one of the tents and ran to me, smiling.

  “Are you okay?” I asked. “Where’s Holm?”

  “He’s fine,” she assured me. “We’re all fine. Everything’s great. You’ll see.”

  She gave me a quick hug, then turned and disappeared back into the tent. My escorts took me to the tent at the very center of the camp. They pulled back the flap and pushed me inside.

  The interior was nearly bare. A small table. A chair. And in that chair sat Kolo.

  The old man smiled widely, while I could only return what I imagined to be a look of total shock. He stood slowly, grimacing in pain as he did. His hand emerged from his long, billowing sleeve as he reached to shake. I took his hand, dumbfounded.

  “We’ve been worried about you,” he said in his gravelly voice.

  “You’ve been worried about me?” I asked incredulously. “Kolo, we thought you’d been taken by the bloodreavers! We thought you were rotting away in Umbramore Tower. What are you doing here?”

  Kolo went to the table and poured us both cups of singetea. I drank gratefully, and he filled my cup twice more before I felt sated. When I slowed down, he spoke.

  “It was sheer luck that a handful of us managed to escape when the bloodreavers attacked,” he said, rubbing his finger along the rim of his teacup thoughtfully. “Eight of them struck without any warning. They would grab several people in their arms and then vanish in a puff of smoke, only to return empty-handed moments later. I can only imagine that the bloodreavers magically transported anyone they caught to Umbramore.

  “Only nine of us managed to evade the bloodreavers.” Kolo’s face grew dark and his voice dropped. “Nine of us, Jaxter. The Sarosans once numbered over two hundred. When the High Laird first ordered our arrest, we lost over half that as our people were taken into custody. Now . . . we’re only nine.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, looking into his pained eyes. He fought so hard to keep his people free. I couldn’t imagine what he was going through.

  He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter. Nine is all we need. Very soon, all the Sarosans will be free again.” He turned and picked up Tree Bag. “I want to thank you for bringing me my book. I knew I’d found a kindred spirit in you.”

  Kolo motioned for me to follow. Together, we walked out into the camp. He took a torch from the perimeter and whispered in the ear of the camp guard. Then he led me down a tunnel on the far side of the chamber.

  “My parents,” I said as we stepped into the darkness. “And Maloch. You can’t just leave them there—”

  He raised a hand. “They’re being brought back to camp as we speak. You have my word they’re safe. I apologize. I wanted to have a quick chat with you first. I admit, I’m curious. How is it that you and Maloch weren’t in the camp when the bloodreavers attacked?”

  “We, uh, were trying to escape. Reena and Holm saw us leave and came after us.”

  Kolo raised his eyebrows thoughtfully. “Then it may be a small blessing that you got out. It spared Reena and Holm what came next. Although I’m sad you decided our hospitality was no longer to your liking.”

  “My nanni always said that guests should never overstay their welcome . . . especially when the host is planning to chop their finger off and send it to the Dowager.”

  “Ah,” he said, not even a little bit guiltily. “Yes. Warras told me of his plan. Well, I’m sure we can agree that it’s a good thing it never came to that.”

  That wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I never would have let him do that, Jaxter would have been better. What he said made it sound like he agreed with the Aviard’s plan.

  “Like I said, Jaxter, I see you as a kindred spirit. Someone who appreciates knowledge, reveres the natural world . . .”

  Well, he had me there.

  “. . . and hates magic and all those who practice it.”

  And that’s where he lost me.

  I didn’t hate mages. Or magic. I didn’t particularly love them, but I also didn’t share the Sarosans’ hatred. But based on his tone, I didn’t think contradicting him was wise.

  “I was incredibly lucky to find these caves,” he said. “Of all the Sarosan safe houses, this is, in many ways, our best. I couldn’t ask for a better location.”

  “Why? Where are we?”

  He nodded upward. “These tunnels run directly below the Palatinate Palace. Right now, not so far above us, every mage in the Provinces is plotting and planning.”

  The tunnel we took split into a fork. To the left, I could hear the roar of rushing water. We took the path to the right.

  “So,” I said slowly, “why is this the perfect place for you? I would think you’d want to be as far away from mages as possible.” The Palatinate had, at the High Laird’s command, unleashed the bloodreavers. In fact, being here seemed completely naff-nut. Wouldn’t the bloodreavers find it easier to track the remaining Sarosans if they were hiding directly below the Palatinate Palace?

  “The Palatinate aren’t the only ones who can plan,” Kolo said angrily. “We have our own plans, and they’re about to come to fruition. Now that we have the Covenant, we can finally make our move.”

  My jaw dropped. The Sarosans had the Covenant? How was that even possible? And then it occurred to me that I was asking the wrong questions.

  “Kolo, why were your people at the Dagger? And how could they get past—”

  I stopped as a familiar scent hit my nose. I blanched at the thick, musty odor. A moment later, we stepped from the tunnel into a massive cavern. Bigger than any I’d ever seen before. So big, I couldn’t see the far side in our meager torchlight. The light was just enough to show me what filled the room.

  The entire floor was covered with tinderjack plants. At least five times as many as I’d found back at the Sarosans’ old camp. I sealed my mouth shut, afraid to so much as breathe in the presence of so many explosive plants.

  Kolo beamed proudly, staring out over the field of tinderjack. “We’ve dedicated our lives to convincing people that magic is evil. That those who practice it seek only to suppress the rest of us. The people of the Five Provinces wouldn’t listen. We have to protect them from their own shortsightedness, Jaxter. Finally, we alone have the power to put an end to this.

  “In their paranoia, the Palatinate recalled every mage in the land, afraid that the ‘Sarosan menace’ might try to exact revenge if the mages were unprotected. They’re all living up there in the palace, every single one of them. They’ve made it too easy.”

  Kolo looked down at me, his eyes disappearing into shadow. “You see, I’m going to blow up the Palatinate.”

  When we returned to Kolo’s tent, I found Ma, Da, and Maloch there, as Kolo had promised. Granted, they were all tied to chairs and Maloch was gagged with what looked like a dirty stocking, but otherwise they were fine.

  Reena and Holm stood near Warras, who held a sword. As we entered, Reena ran to Kolo.

  “Kolo,” she said, “these are good people.” She pointed to Maloch. “He’s irritating but . . . basically good. Do we need to tie them up?”

  Kolo gave her black hair a pat. “There is a reason for everything, Reena. We’re so glad to have you back in the fold. Why don’t you and your brother leave us now? We have things to discuss.”

  Holm stepped forward. “But—”

  Before he or his sister could utter another word, Warras guided them from the tent. It was just the five of us.

  “Reena has a point,” I said. “Do they need to be tied up?”

  “Really, we’re no threat,” Ma said. She and Da leaned their heads in together and flashed their cheesiest smiles.

  “We’ll see,” Kolo said.

  “He wants to blow up the Palatinate,” I said plainly. Ma’s and Da’s eyes widened. Kolo’s lips curled disapprovingly. Then he shook his head, deciding there was nothing he could do now that it was out in the o
pen.

  After a bit of gagging, a red-faced Maloch managed to eject the filthy stocking from his mouth. He spat and coughed. “If you’re angry at the Palatinate, you’ve got no reason to keep us as prisoners. We have nothing to do with them.”

  “Perhaps not,” Kolo said, “but you have, quite by accident, helped me overcome a rather large hole in my plan.”

  Kolo went to his table and poured himself a cup of singetea. He took a small jar and began adding iceclovers in great heaping spoonfuls. He stirred, each turn of his wrist causing a grimace of pain. He lifted the cup to his lips, took a large swallow, then smiled at me in contentment.

  The iceclovers.

  I had to steady myself to keep from falling over. Of course. The answer had been staring me in the face the whole time.

  I was about to speak when a small movement out of the corner of my eye distracted me. The far edge of the tent behind Kolo had risen slightly, and two dark-skinned ears pressed in, listening. Ah, Reena and Holm. Taking my own sneaky lead.

  “I don’t know what you’ve heard about the Grimjinx clan,” Da said gently, “although I imagine you’ve heard quite a bit. Thieves? I’ll gladly take that. Cutpurses? Well, I’ll frown but I’ll accept it. Liars? And proud of it. But I think you’ll find that no one can ever call us murderers.”

  Ma agreed. “Right. I don’t think we’ll be able to help you blow up the Palatinate. So, if you could just untie us—”

  “Forgive me,” Kolo said, taking another sip of tea. “I haven’t been clear. I don’t need your help. I need Jaxter’s.”

  Everyone looked to me, incredulous.

  “Er, like Da said, the Grimjinxes aren’t killers,” I said. “Can’t help you, I’m afraid.”

  Kolo shook his head. “You won’t be killing anyone. I need you to sneak into the Palatinate and retrieve the Sourcefire.”

  Everyone knew of the Sourcefire. Legend had it that the Sourcefire was the magical fire spewed by the volcanoes that had formed the Five Provinces millennia ago. The green-blue flame torches that would burn until extinguished were made from it. Rumor was there was very little of the original Sourcefire left. What remained burned forever in the heart of the Palatinate Palace.