Blood and Shadow (The Mage's Gift Book 1)

by Robin Lythgoe

  As if he’d heard Sherakai’s thoughts, the sitter slid down off the log and thumped into the leaves and bracken. Now what? He could perhaps kick him or knee him, but to what purpose? Getting himself killed? The noise of battle seemed to have stopped. Straining his ears, Sherakai could make out the sound of voices—something about the dog, but the rest was indistinct.

  “Chakkan?” Nayuri’s voice came from so close it made Sherakai flinch.

  “Aye.”

  The log gave a little as the captain stepped up onto it and over. “The jansu’s son?”

  “Safe.”

  The body blocking the way fell to one side and the one near his feet rose and moved away. Instantly, Sherakai scrambled out of his hiding place, launching himself at Chakkan. “You stinking pig!” The advantage of surprise sent the bigger man sprawling, sword flying. Half straddling him, Sherakai punched him again and again. “I thought you were dead!”

  Strong arms wrapped around him from behind, dragging him away. “Easy! Easy, man…”

  Sherakai flailed to escape, forgetting every single thing he’d ever been taught about close combat. Taller and broader than the youth, the captain had little difficulty restraining him.

  “Be still,” came the sharp order in his ear.

  Breathing hard, trembling with emotion, Sherakai braced his legs wide, glowering at Chakkan where he lay sprawled on the ground. “You could have been killed!”

  Chakkan sat up slowly. “Believe me, the thought went through my mind.”

  “He saved your life,” Nayuri pointed out, easing his hold and turning Sherakai so he could see the body lying face down next to his hiding place. It was too dark to make out details. “Do you have control of yourself now?”

  Sherakai nodded curtly, though when the captain released him he wondered if his knees would betray him. Chakkan rolled to one side and reached for his sword, pushing the tip into the ground to lever himself up. Nayuri helped, asking him low-voiced questions. The exchange excluded Sherakai, and he wondered if he should stay or go back to the camp. The captain solved the dilemma with his next words.

  “Your friend has wounds that need tending.”

  “Chakkan?” Guilt pricked him.

  “I’m fine.”

  Chapter 32

  That was all. No further explanation. The two set off, and Sherakai followed, only to run back and clamber over the log to fetch the weapons he’d dropped. Some warrior he made… He kicked the body, then hurried after the others.

  The camp was a shambles. One canvas dangled in shreds, but the men were packing everything else up. Nayuri lit a torch so he could tend to the cuts Chakkan had taken during his battle and ordered Sherakai to saddle the horses.

  “I can help,” he said, reaching out to steady Chakkan. Chakkan allowed it, but the captain nodded toward the animals.

  “Yes, you can. With the horses.”

  Chakkan didn’t even look at him. Sherakai hesitated, seeing in the scant light the bloody marks of several cuts. The worst was on his shoulder, but he’d been able to walk, hadn’t he? That was a good sign.

  “Now.”

  “Vanu, shakuri,” he breathed, backing away.

  To his horror, he found one of his beautiful Indimi-o laying on the ground. White showing around her eyes and agony came in the sound of every breath. He dropped to his knees to run his hands over her body, exclaiming and murmuring soothing words. The wound he found in her flank made him gasp. His hand came away bloody.

  “No!” he cried, pressing both hands against the seeping gouge. He knew at once that it was deep. Threads of the mare’s agony wrapped around him, choking him. “No! No!”

  “What is it, lad? What’s happened?” Araki appeared at his side, a hand going to his shoulder.

  “She’s hurt. Help me!”

  “Let me see.” The older man examined the wound, then swore under his breath. “This is bad. We’re going to have to put her down.”

  “No!” Sherakai shoved at him, and laid his crimson-stained hands against the mare’s side again. “We can help her. Bring my kit. We need—”

  Araki’s hand fixed on his shoulder again, turning him away. “Look at me, young lord. There is nothing we can do. We must be away from this place as fast as we can, before more of Bairith’s creatures find us. There is no time for her. Look at me.”

  Sherakai shook his head. “I can’t leave her. I won’t.”

  “It is her life or yours. Which would your father choose?”

  “Please,” he whispered.

  Araki rose, pulling Sherakai up by one arm. “Go see to the others. They may have injuries we can do something about. Hurry.”

  He shook his head again, but Araki gave him a rough shove. One of the other horses pressed its nose against him, seeking comfort, and he wrapped his arms around the muscular neck. The Indimi-o moved protectively between him and the downed mare.

  “Saddle up,” came the terse order.

  Forced to move, Sherakai hurried to check the other horses. Two were injured, but not enough to keep them from carrying their riders, who were also victims of the violence. One guardsman was sorely wounded, but they could not leave him behind. His capture would have more reaching consequences than that of a horse, Indimi per’la Tojitu or not.

  The journey took on a surreal quality that made the previous days look like a run through a sunny meadow. It was one thing to sneak away in the night, and quite another to nearly die at the end of a blade. The course Captain Nayuri chose paralleled the track the attackers had taken, but in the opposite direction. Utmost care kept them off their direct path, and for good reason. Just after dawn, Beseni materialized out of the thick, swirling mist.

  “Everyone off your horses,” came the whispered command. “Get down. Get the horses down. Stay quiet.”

  They had only minutes to coax the horses to the ground, and Sherakai hurried up and down the line to those that balked. Please, please… he begged them. All but one settled reluctantly to the wet earth. Their riders crouched next to them, holding their heads, whispering soft assurances.

  Further up the hill, the enemy traced the path of their missing companions. The thud of hooves on wet earth, the scrape of branches against leather, and the occasional jangle of tack came just before the shadowed, silent figures loomed into view.

  Sherakai saw them. Everyone saw them. Catching hold of the head of his uncooperative charge, he pulled it against his chest and closed his eyes. “Hush,” he breathed. “Still as stone. They cannot see us. Cannot see us. Cannot see us.” Over and over he whispered the words, feeling like a child who, covering his head with a blanket, believed himself invisible. His back to the path, he could feel the enemy moving past, eyes scraping the landscape to pierce the fog. Beneath the cover of his hood, he tipped his head the tiniest fraction to glance furtively at the others. Horror made a mask of Chakkan’s features. The others had their own hoods pulled low and their attention fixed on the path above. Don’t look at them, Sherakai prayed. They will feel you. Don’t look, don’t see…

  A glimmer of movement revealed a blade in one man’s hands. More careful study showed three others laying in the leaves within easy reach of their owners. There, too, was a bow.

  Nayuri turned his head slowly, meeting Sherakai’s eyes. He held one gloved finger up to his lips. Sherakai had no intention of making a sound, but it would take a miracle for the noisy pounding of his heart to go unnoticed. Icy sweat trickled between his shoulder blades.

  A heavy thump came from further down the slope and he cringed. Still as stone! Misty as a spirit! No one can see us! Low on the ground, with the uneven terrain to give them some cover, the others had a fair chance of remaining invisible, but how bare trees and a few scraggly, nearly-naked bushes could hide a horse as tall as a tower was beyond his comprehension.

  The horse pressed against him so hard he almost lost his balance. “Shh, shh…” he soothed, willing her still and quiet, willing the riders to keep on going.

  They did
not. Of course they did not.

  There came a break in the sense of movement, a muffled order to halt.

  Mouth pressed to the mare’s ear, he whispered repeated assurance and begged cooperation from her. Viscous silence oozed around him. He thought it a trick of the mist, but it did not obstruct his vision. He saw one of his hidden companions shift to reach for the sword by his knee. He saw another lean on the head of his horse, keeping it down when it grew restless. He saw Chakkan look up toward the trail, then back, eyes widening as his mouth shaped the word No! A hand clamped on Chakkan’s shoulder kept him down. Tension rippled through the line, expectancy gripping each of them.

  Sherakai’s exposed back tickled where the speeding arrow would surely plunge into his body.

  Could his companions survive another direct confrontation? There were only nine of them left, and even if shadows multiplied the number in the enemy’s line, there were too many. Sherakai determined that he would not be captured. He would die first.

  He did not want to die…

  Chapter 33

  To his utter astonishment, the enemy moved on. He could feel their eyes on him as they studied the hillside for the source of noise that had captured their attention. It nearly stopped his breathing. Bit by bit, the familiar tap, tap, patter of falling rain replaced the dreadful quiet. Overhead, the skies rumbled and the rain fell faster.

  When the troop disappeared over a shoulder in the landscape, Sherakai sank to his knees, unable to stand a moment longer. Cold sweat drenched him. His lips were dry. His hands trembled.

  The mare nickered softly and pressed her velvety nose against his ear.

  “Kai,” he thought he heard from far away.

  No one moved, not for a long time. Intent eyes remained focused on the path above. Others turned to scan the hillside below, wary of a trap. Sherakai missed the signal the captain eventually gave. The horses scrambled to their feet. He straightened more slowly, gripping the mare’s bridle.

  “What happened? How did you do that?” Chakkan grasped his shoulder and spun him around. Within the shadows of his hood shone a face stark white.

  Sherakai had to hold onto him to keep from falling. “Do what?” he asked in confusion.

  “You disappeared!” In spite of his emotion, he kept his voice low.

  “No, I didn’t.” He shook his head, hesitant. "I just stood here like a moldering post, waiting to get shot in the back.”

  “Sherakai, I watched you vanish!” Chakkan’s distress was palpable. “I thought they had mages, and they’d taken you. How, by the grace of the gods, are we supposed to rescue you if they spirit you away? How will we know where you are?”

  “I suppose you could start at Lord Chiro’s keep.” His brow wrinkled. It seemed the most practical place to look.

  Chakkan laughed, a strange, strained sound. Then he threw his arms around Sherakai and embraced him hard. “Don’t do that again. You scared me spitless.”

  “I didn’t do anything, I tell you. I suppose that makes us even though.”

  “Even!” Laughing and shaking his head, Chakkan took Sherakai by the arm to push him along to his own mount.

  Nayuri watched, his expression narrow. The guardsmen eyed him with naked curiosity, but no one else asked questions or offered opinions. Orders were to remain quiet, and before long they were moving west again. The rain fell hard enough to wash away their trail, though the thunder and growing wind obscured sound that would alert them to danger. Nayuri set them to a quick march, and they did not stop for more than a few minutes at a time. The grueling pace wore at both man and beast. The abuse absorbed on Sherakai’s account sickened him. Was he worth it?

  When they came to a small glade, Nayuri sent the others ahead and waited. Sherakai came abreast of him and fell in alongside.

  “You want to tell me what happened back there?” he asked after they’d ridden for some time in a silence that did not seem particularly companionable.

  Sherakai licked his lips. Rain had taken care of the dryness and he’d resumed his slow moldering. “I don’t know. The mare wouldn’t go down, so I held her.”

  “And then?”

  “And then I wished a lot,” he admitted ruefully, truthfully.

  Nayuri nodded. “I see.”

  “If I may ask, what do you see, captain?”

  The man possessed an enviable air of control. He carried himself well, rode well, retained a sense of calm in every circumstance. He had remained unruffled during the midnight attack, and if the latest incident with Bairith’s men was any proof, nothing bothered him. Nayuri considered his words before he spoke. “A young man that kept his head in a dangerous situation. A young man that considers the advice given to him without accepting it blithely.”

  “What else?”

  Nayuri slanted him an amused glance. “Fishing for compliments, are you?”

  He colored. “No, sir. What do you think it meant? That I disappeared?”

  The other man shook his head. “I know little about your particular Gift. I have never seen someone vanish before my eyes like that. Can you do it again?”

  He rubbed his dripping nose and drew his lower lip between his teeth. He had nothing to lose by trying. Focusing on the wet reins, his mouth moved silently as he repeated the words he’d used before. Still as stone. Misty as a spirit. No one can see me. I don’t want to die. Don’t look, don’t see…

  The rain continued to fall, gentle but persistent. As the shock of near discovery faded, increasing cold set in. It made concentration difficult, and after a time he looked up at his companion. “Did it work?”

  “No. Sorry.” Saddle leather creaked as the captain shifted. Moving along the edge of a copse, they’d urged the horses to a fast walk. Every one of them rode with wary attention shifting from woods to field, forward and back. “Animals respond well to you. You can coax them to do things they might not normally do. Perhaps it was the same with your disappearing. You convinced us not to see you.”

  His heart raced. Rather than exhilaration, alarm coursed through him.

  “It will take time to control your ability. Fortunately, you will have the experience of spirit-gifted mages at the college to help you. It can’t have been a comfortable decision for the jansu to make. He has been much occupied with trying to keep you, your family, and your birthright safe.” His words carried the truth, yet something in what Nayuri didn’t say discolored them. A faint tinge of bitterness.

  “Is that not his duty?” he asked, hesitant for fear of sounding arrogant.

  “Yes.” Nayuri surprised Sherakai with his fervency. “Yes, it is.”

  “Is there something wrong with what he is doing? Or how he is doing it?”

  The captain didn’t answer him right away, his pensive gaze first on his mount’s ears, then on the drenched countryside around them. The scouts continued to report, but they made no immediate change of course. It was a good sign.

  “My duty and my affection belong to your father, Sherakai. That does not mean we always agree on things.”

  That the two might sometimes be at odds came as a shock. So did the unexpected sound of his name from the captain’s lips. “Is it safe to use my name now?”

  He shrugged. “They already know you are with us.”

  At the end of the thicket, Hansa led the way down an incline and into a swift stream. Beseni waited on the other side. Dark circles and haggard lines betrayed his grief at his friend Omakan’s death. He signaled to Nayuri, and the group turned down the stream. A few of the horses paused to drink.

  “Lord Chiro killed my brothers, didn’t he?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Why does he hate us so? Does he not have power equal to my father’s? More? He is a great mage.”

  “A mage, yes. I cannot vouch for his greatness.” He did not smile.

  Another silence followed as the horses slipped and stumbled through the rocky stream. It descended into a steep, narrow gully. The captain kept looking up at the sides, whi
ch grew higher and higher. His uneasiness transferred to Sherakai.

  “Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” he asked quietly enough not to be heard by their companions ahead and behind.

  Nayuri shook his head apprehensively. “One of the scouts should have returned by now.” A soft whistle brought the troop to a halt. The horses dipped their heads to drink. “Keep your eyes open for a way up out of here. If there’s no sign of Beseni or Araki by the time we reach the bottom, we must assume they are lost.”

  He didn’t say it, but they would also have to assume that the group of attackers had been found.

  “How far off course are we?” Sherakai asked.

  Several glances flickered his way.

  Nayuri’s mouth tightened. “It’ll take us another five days to reach the capital if nothing interferes, and if the weather clears. We’ll have to find more supplies.”

  “That long?” he gasped. It sounded like an eternity. “It’s already been eight days…”

  He urged his mount forward at a slow walk. “Stay quiet. Stay alert.”

  Hands went to weapons. Cloaks pushed back in spite of the constant downpour, they pressed forward. No one spoke as they picked their way down the steep, twisting waterway. The more it deepened, the more Nayuri shook his head. His dislike for the situation was clear. Hansa’s dog kept looking up, whining from time to time, but there was nothing there.

  Gensai, riding in the lead, turned a sharp corner, then abruptly reappeared, backing his horse. “Captain!” he cried out, then grabbed his throat where a purple-fletched arrow blossomed.

  “Back! Get back!” Nayuri shouted, wheeling his mount.

  Dark shapes oozed into view along the upper edges of the canyon. The air hissed with the sound of buzzing arrows. Ekiwo got off a few of his own before he fell. Hansa’s horse sprouted two arrows in its chest and crumbled to the earth. A third planted itself in the rider’s torso.