Path of Shadows

by Ben Wolf

  “We’re blood mercenaries,” Aeron said.

  “That’s right.” Garrick held up his forearm, which had already scabbed over. “We’ll always have this scar on our forearms as a reminder. Whenever you look at it, remember who we are. We’re the Blood Mercenaries.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You have to leave already?” Ferne whimpered.

  Mehta knelt before her in the middle of the house, stared into her blue eyes, and took hold of her small, delicate hands. “I’m sorry, Ferne.”

  “You said you’d stay indef—indefi-tably.” Tears pooled in the corners of her eyes, threatening to stream down her cheeks.

  “Indefinitely,” Mehta said. “It means I didn’t know how long I’d be able to stay.”

  Ferne sniffled, and the first teardrops began to fall. Her bottom lip quivered. “Well, it wasn’t long.”

  “I know. I’m really sorry.” Mehta wiped her tears from her cheeks with his fingers.

  “You don’t have to go. You can stay.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I made an oath,” he said. “Do you know what an oath is?”

  She nodded. Then, upon further consideration, she shook her head.

  “An oath is a promise,” Mehta said. “It’s a promise you can’t break, ever.”

  “You promised you would come back.”

  “I did come back,” he told her calmly. “And I’ll come back again. I promise.”

  “When?”

  “I don’t know. Hopefully soon.” He shifted his hands up to her arms and gave them a light squeeze. The cut on his forearm from the oath pinched a bit, but he paid it no mind. “I’m leaving because it’s the only way to keep you safe.”

  Ferne shook her head. “You said that last time.”

  “It’s still true. I need to keep you safe.”

  “But it’s safe here…” Ferne glanced around, her eyes wide. “Or it was, anyway.”

  “Exactly,” Mehta said. “People are still looking for me. Not the same people who came after us in Sefera, but just as bad. Maybe worse. I have to get to them before they get to me.”

  “And then we’ll be safe?” Hope filled Ferne’s voice.

  “Yes,” Mehta said. “I think so.”

  The truth was, Mehta didn’t really know what would happen. He’d determined to bring down Lord Valdis, but it could very well cost him his life.

  He’d promised to return to Ferne once before, and he’d managed to deliver, but there was no guarantee he’d be able to do it again. In fact, with Lord Valdis aware of Mehta’s existence, it was even less likely that Mehta would survive, despite the help of the other Blood Mercs.

  Of course, he couldn’t explain all of that to Ferne. If he did, she’d never get another good night’s sleep in her life. She was just a child and shouldn’t have to bear the full weight of his decisions.

  “Promise to take care of Palomi and especially Grandfather for me while I’m gone?” Mehta asked her.

  Ferne nodded. “I will. They need me to help out. Palomi likes when I help with Grandfather.”

  Mehta grinned again. “Good. Be mindful of what she says, and hug Grandfather for me every day.”

  Ferne beamed and threw her arms around Mehta’s neck. “I will. Come back soon.”

  Mehta returned her embrace. “As soon as I can.”

  Two days later…

  “I wish I’d just kept digging up graves,” Kallie moaned from behind Aeron.

  They rode together atop Wafer, flying north along the western slopes of the Thornback Mountains through frigid winds and light flurries of snow. Kallie clutched Aeron’s waist from behind.

  “Me too,” Aeron called back, hopefully loud enough for her to hear.

  And me, came an impression from Wafer. It made Aeron laugh, despite the severity of the cold around them.

  “How’re you holding up?” Aeron shouted over the wind. The cold had numbed his cheeks and lips, making it hard to form coherent words. “Need a break?”

  “You asked me that five minutes ago,” Kallie replied.

  “More like fifteen minutes,” Aeron countered.

  “I’m good. Just keep flying.”

  Thanks to her fever, Kallie continued to radiate constant, unnatural warmth in spite of the icy air. That was perhaps the best part about traveling with her—the weather would only get worse, but she’d radiate warmth onto Aeron through it all.

  Kallie’s chills had subsided, but Aeron didn’t know how long that would last. The more she’d reached into and dwelled near the fire back at Mehta’s house, the hotter she got. Her fever had returned, but Aeron wasn’t sure that was even a bad thing anymore. In weather like this, it might just keep her alive.

  They flew ahead of the other Blood Mercs who, without horses, were traveling considerably slower than usual. With the added weight on his back, Wafer flew slower, too, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  Kallie’s comment about sticking with grave-robbing had hit Aeron sideways. If Aeron could’ve stopped her from joining the Crimson Flame or saved her from Falna the first time around, he would have.

  But no amount of wishing would change anything about the situation. Only action would, and Aeron was prepared to forsake everything to ransom Kallie from death once more—up to and including his own life.

  Mine, too. The impression hit him through his bond from Wafer.

  It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A primitive, base message, but Aeron understood it well enough.

  He and Wafer were on the same wing beat when it came to Kallie. They were both willing to die for her if it came to it. Aeron’s intention had imprinted on Wafer through their bond.

  “Need a break yet?” Aeron called back to Kallie.

  At this altitude, and traveling farther north, the cold seemed to heighten with each passing mile. He wished his armor were better at keeping him warm. He would’ve sacrificed some of its protective qualities if it would keep him from freezing over.

  “Sounds more like you need a break, yeah?” she called back.

  Even with Kallie behind Aeron, heating him up with her unnatural fever, and his cloak cinched tightly around him to block the snow and cutting wind from reaching him, he still had to fight to stay warm. The cold was relentless.

  “I’m considering it,” Aeron shouted. “It’s worse up front.”

  “I believe you,” Kallie replied.

  At least Aeron didn’t have to worry about Wafer. Wyverns ran hot, so they thrived in cold climates. Too far south—really, any farther south than Govalia—and wyverns tended to overheat too easily.

  “It’s almost nightfall,” Aeron called. “I can make it until we find shelter if you can.”

  “Works for me,” Kallie replied.

  More than once, Aeron had considered this a fool’s errand, but earlier that morning, they’d found the merchant road Grandfather had mentioned. He’d hoped that finding the road would mean faster travel for the others. In reality, their pace didn’t change much.

  The snow and ice had piled up, and now, in the dead of winter, the road proved almost as difficult to traverse as the mountains and the valleys. The only benefit was that they didn’t have to worry as much about changing elevations—the road was more or less flat most of the trek.

  As the sun sank beyond the horizon, night descended across the mountain range. The new moon had happened a few nights earlier, and now a silver crescent sliced through the skies instead.

  The thought of how close Aeron had come to losing Kallie forever chilled his very soul. It reinforced the importance of bringing down Lord Valdis once and for all. Kallie would never be safe with him alive.

  Rather than camp out in the elements, Aeron, Wafer, and Kallie located a cave set into the slope of one of the mountains. They led the other Blood Mercs to it, and they all crammed inside, except for Wafer, who couldn’t fit through the opening.

  Within minutes Garrick and Kent had a fire going.
Kallie curled up as close to it as she could get without singeing her clothes, and Aeron and Wafer secured dry firewood thanks to a good scouring of the surrounding mountaintops. They returned with a bundle that would last the whole night, or very near it, anyway.

  Since Wafer couldn’t squeeze inside, Aeron sent him off for the night. Now unencumbered, he’d seek out another cave of his own.

  That night, Kallie lay practically on top of the fire, and Aeron slept next to her to benefit from her warmth. But by the morning, both Kallie’s warmth and the fire had dwindled to almost nothing.

  Mehta dreamed of battling the very essence of cold, manifested as a huge, terrible beast with wings and scales and fearsome teeth. Then Aeron’s voice tore him away from the nightmare and into an even worse reality.

  “Kallie?” Aeron shook his sister, whose skin had taken on a strange hue in the waning light of the fire. Aeron’s voice took on more urgency. “Kallie?!”

  Mehta stared at her from his spot across the dwindling fire, bleary yet still tense from the nightmare. When his brain processed the sight of Kallie lying there, unmoving, Mehta jolted upright.

  “What’s happening?” He gripped the hilts of his knives. The Xyonates had drilled that impulse deep within his persona, and he might never grow out of it. He released his grip when he realized there wasn’t any external threat. “Is she…?”

  Aeron continued shaking Kallie. “She’s breathing, but slowly. Her skin feels like ice.”

  Garrick was still trying to wake up, but Kent made it to Aeron’s side even before Mehta did. They all hovered over Kallie for a moment.

  “We need to get the fire going again.” Aeron pointed to it. “She needs heat.”

  “Do we have more firewood?” Kent asked.

  They’d run out. Mehta had awakened a couple of hours earlier and put the last of the logs onto the fire. “I’ll get more.”

  But as he turned toward the mouth of the cave, he realized something was wrong. Was it still nighttime? Even with his enchanted vision, the cave was unusually dark for it being morning.

  Something was very wrong.

  Mehta rushed over to the opening but stopped short. It was blocked. He reached out to touch it and found cold stone—no, ice—covering the entrance. Very little light shone through it.

  Alarm filled his chest, and he turned back toward the others. “We’re trapped.”

  “What?” That got Garrick awake and upright. “What do you mean, trapped?”

  “The entrance to the cave froze over.”

  “I can handle this,” Kent said. “Give Kallie all the blankets and coverings you can. Aeron, lay next to her. Try to give her some of your body heat.”

  Kent still held the walking stick that Mehta’s grandfather had given him—the one that concealed the ice-forged dagger. He set it on the cave floor near the fire.

  His right hand glowed blue with magic, and he reached into the embers with it. The fire intensified, but without wood, it would only burn as long as Kent fed it magic.

  Kallie stirred as the flames blossomed, but when Kent pulled his hand out, and the fire with it, she went still again.

  Mehta’s heart fluttered with anxiety. He wished he’d mustered the courage to talk to Kallie more, but even the thought of it set him on edge.

  He could sift fierce, powerful warriors and wealthy, well-protected lords. He could slip through the shadows undetected. He could track his prey virtually anywhere, any time.

  The Xyonates had trained him to handle those situations. But they’d never trained him how to interact with pretty girls—in fact, they’d specifically trained him not to.

  So he’d remained quiet throughout their journey. He hadn’t tried to get to know her more. He hadn’t shown her anything about himself beyond his ability to bring death.

  Now she might perish before he got the chance to say anything at all to her.

  Kent took his fiery hand and pointed it toward the mouth of the cave, then he raised his other hand, also glowing blue, and held it against his right hand. The fire spread to both of his hands, which rippled with intermingling orange and blue flames.

  He blasted fire toward the mouth of the cave. The ice hissed and steamed, and the ice rapidly melted away.

  Something rumbled over their heads, slow and ominous at first, but ever building.

  Kent stopped his stream of fire and listened. Blue and orange flames still engulfed his hands.

  Then Garrick shouted, “Kent, get back!”

  Chapter Twelve

  Mehta’s heart raced as Kent dove away from the entrance, pursued by a cascade of ice and snow. It burst into the cave where Kent had just been standing, and he scrambled away as it pushed deeper and deeper, trying to bury him.

  Mehta grabbed his arm and pulled him even farther back, earning both a quick glare from Kent and a curt nod as well.

  Finally, the rumbling overhead gradually subsided. The wintery flood slowed, but it didn’t totally stop its advance. It kept pushing into the cave, creeping along, cold and steady and inevitably lethal if they didn’t do something about it. Within minutes, it would fill the rest of the cave.

  Kent pushed himself up to his feet and faced the incursion of snow and ice. The fire on his hands had dissipated to nothing. “It appears we are, indeed, trapped.”

  “Avalanche.” Garrick approached from behind Kent. “We’re buried in here, and it’s still coming in.”

  “With the entryway blocked off, we are in danger of suffocation as well,” Kent said.

  Suffocation concerned Mehta the most. He’d learned long ago to control his breathing in all manner of tense situations, but with a lack of air, he could only ration it to a certain point.

  “Can you move it with your magic?” Garrick asked.

  “Possibly.” Kent headed over to the mound again. “But that does not address our immediate concern of being able to keep Kallie warm.”

  He placed his hands on the snow, and they glowed with blue light once more. The snow mound began to disperse into the cave to Kent’s left and right. As he pressed forward, the mound yielded to his magic, but the snow continued to push into the cave around him.

  “Look around for anything else we can burn,” Aeron said as Kent continued to battle the offending snow.

  “There’s nothing around,” Mehta said. “I checked the entire cave once we got here. There’s only one way in or out, and there’s nothing we can use for fuel.”

  “What about excess supplies? Anything we can do without?” Aeron suggested.

  “We can’t burn the food,” Garrick said. “Can’t burn the blankets. It’s only getting colder outside.”

  Aeron swore. “There has to be something we can burn.”

  An idea hit Mehta’s mind. It was a crazy idea, but it just might work. He blurted, “What if we lay her in the embers?”

  “What?” Aeron asked.

  “That’s the warmest spot, and fire doesn’t hurt her. We could at least buy her some time that way.”

  “He has a point.” Kent had returned from battling the snow, which continued to pour into the cave. Apparently his magic hadn’t moved the snow enough. He headed toward the embers once more.

  “Why don’t you just keep her warm with your magic?” Aeron asked.

  “The snow and ice are advancing too quickly, and there is far too much of it. It will bury me if I continue to try to move it,” Kent said. “It almost did anyway. So I must resort to using fire again.

  “Since my first attempt at burning a way through succeeded only in making our predicament worse, it is safe to assume that I will need to redouble my concentration and my efforts to liberating us. Focusing on Kallie at the same time would be problematic.

  “If Kallie lays on the embers,” he continued, “they can provide her with some degree of consistent heat while I work on our long-term problem. The snow and ice will overrun us if I do not act. We must address both concerns, but only one of them yields a solution that will get us all to safety on the
outside of this cave.”

  Kent headed over to their sorry excuse for a fire and dipped his magic-covered hand into it again. Then a new blast of fire streamed from Kent’s hands, lighting up the cave anew and beating back the encroaching mound of snow and ice.

  “We need to take off her clothes,” Garrick said.

  Mehta looked at Garrick, wide-eyed. He hadn’t considered that.

  “What?” Aeron snapped.

  “I’m not some pervert.” Garrick glowered at them. “She’s only got one set of clothes. If those burn up, she’ll be naked the rest of the journey. Better a little nudity now than letting her freeze to death because we were prudes.”

  Garrick’s logic made sense, but the idea of it sent trembles down to Mehta’s fingertips. He stilled himself with a calming breath.

  Aeron cursed again, one of countless utterances he’d mumbled since finding Kallie unresponsive. He put his hands on Kallie’s torso and turned to Mehta. “Help me with her?”

  Mehta gulped. The idea of stripping Kallie and laying her on the fire was embarrassing enough to think about, but the actual act of doing it froze Mehta solid. He stood there, wide-eyed and speechless.

  “Mehta!” Aeron snapped. “Help me with her.”

  Mehta snapped out of his paralysis and reached for Kallie.

  You’ve sifted dozens of people, he reassured himself. You’ve seen worse.

  But having seen worse wasn’t the problem. Seeing Kallie was.

  Mehta wanted to help, and he wanted to see, and he wanted to run away and hide out of embarrassment and guilt and shame. Whenever he could, instead of looking at Kallie, he watched Kent’s fire devour the snowdrift in an eruption of hissing steam.

  Mehta chastised himself for letting the situation bother him. It shouldn’t have. He’d trained for years to confront his every emotion and impulse and to master them, but he couldn’t master this. Why was this different?

  Once they got Kallie’s clothes off, he helped Aeron lay her atop the embers. As soon as he released her, Mehta averted his gaze again.