A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) Page 6

  Before Boris could mount the steps, the main door swung open and a mixed party exited the building. Several dark-helmeted guards surrounded a thin, pale-faced man with lanky, white hair. The man lifted a small, silver box, opened it, and pinched out a bit of brown powder. He then promptly snorted it and sneezed into a lace kerchief.

  “Wewll,” the man twittered. “I bewieve you are in the wrong country, my Lord Earl.” Jaerd fought to stifle a laugh at the man’s impediment. “We here in Kiwath do not seek battle so quickwy.”

  “My Lord Mayor.” Boris’ voice remained steady, his expression carved from a mountain. “I must warn you of the doom that marches on your city.” A cold tone entered the earl’s words. “Highspur has fallen, sir. Fifty thousand orcs swarm this way, and thousands more follow behind or sit in the remains of our broken fortress.”

  One or two of the guards shuffled their feet, while their commander fingered his sword pommel. Kodi only giggled. “Why Earl Boris…the jest you make is quite entertaining.” He fluttered the kerchief about his face. “You Gannonites do have such an odd sense of humow.”

  Despite the fact that Jaerd knew he must be broiling underneath, a thin veneer of polite calm held on Boris’ face. “My Lord Mayor, this is no joke. We are among the few survivors, only just now arrived in your city from Highspur.” He slammed a fist into his hand. “You must prepare your people to evacuate, Mayor Kodi. Your short walls will not stand against the coming horde.”

  The mayor’s flippant expression flashed to one of rage. “You will not insult my people, Earl Boris Mourne. We are no cowards.” He sniffed from his snuff box once again. “Even if your story is twue, there cannot be that many orcs in the entire Northlands.” He gestured to his guards. “I will not hear these silly stories. We will return to the dinner pawty.” The mayor’s pale eyes glared at Boris. “You may stay in Kiwath for the night, but you shall be on to Gannon in the morning.”

  The mayor spun about and marched back into his home, the guards swarming around him in a more martial fashion than they had brought him out.

  The reaction on Boris’ face would have made Jaerd wilt had it been directed at him. He noticed the muscles in the earl’s jaw working under his stubble-covered skin. Whatever exhaustion remained in his stance from their journey across the Wastes burned away to be replaced by a fierce rage. Is that the sound of his teeth grinding?

  Most of the others in the party stood silently rooted to the cobblestones. Magus Britt clung to his staff so hard his knuckles whitened. Khalem Shadar shook his head sadly.

  Jaerd said nothing and moved even less. He only waited for his commander’s next order.

  “Come,” Boris growled at last. “If he wants to die, let him die.”

  When they returned to the main gate, Earl Boris grabbed the captain by the scruff of his collar. The fear on the man’s face let tell why he did not resist. The intensity of Boris’ gaze could almost burn stone.

  “You will want to take what soldiers you can and flee with your people toward Novon.” Boris loosened his grip. “It is the nearest city with a fortified wall. It is where we will muster the army of Gannon. Then we can return to liberate Kirath and Highspur.”

  The captain shook his head, his jowls quivering. “I cannot abandon my lord.”

  Boris released the man to fall back to his heels. “Then you will die with him.” He turned to Jaerd and the others. “Let’s be on. I am done with these fools, and the sooner we return to Gannon, the sooner we can be back.”

  Outside the gates, a young soldier with a fearful look on his face slipped up beside them. “My lords,” he whispered. “You may try the city watch captain.” He pointed at one of the other two keeps rising from the skyline. “He may be able to rouse the city where His Oddness would not.” The soldier ran off into the twist of streets, purposeful in his steps.

  Boris inspected the keep to which the man had pointed. A shadow hung over his features and his eyes looked carved of glacial ice. Magus Joslyn Britt, chiseled from the same stuff, stood close beside his friend.

  Khalem Shadar kneed his Hadonese stepper toward the distant keep. “Well, I guess this watch captain is our only choice. We should be on our way to see him.”

  The watch keep stood shorter than the mayor’s. It had no surrounding wall, and no granaries to protect. Armored guards stood on the roof with bows. Jaerd caressed Shar’leen’s handle, watching the men walk about on top of the keep. He pulled his horse closer in to Dawne’s.

  Lord Gael clucked his tongue. “The watch captain of Kirath is chosen by killing his predecessor in a duel…not something conducive to wise leadership.”

  Jaerd scanned their surroundings as Boris dismounted and walked up to the gate. The earl banged a heavy fist against it, even though the watchmen above had certainly noticed their approach.

  A small window opened. “’Ere now. What’s all this, then?”

  Curling his cloak about his arms, Boris gave the man behind the grate a black stare. “I am Earl Boris Mourne of Gannon. I come to see if any man in this city cares for the fact that Highspur has been crushed, and a horde of orcs sweeps down upon you.”

  The voice broke. “What?”

  Storming up behind Boris, Magus Britt smacked the stone with his staff. “Where is your captain, man?”

  “He’s in here.”

  Boris’ jaw did not move when he said, “Have him come to the door.”

  The window slammed shut, and the party waited. Magus Britt ground his staff into the steps. Earl Boris looked ready to chew through the door.

  At last, the front gate opened. A lean man, pale of face and hair, emerged. His gaze sliced into everyone in the party. He carried a rapier which looked as if it had seen plenty of use. He looks human, but his ears have a bit of a point. And those cobalt eyes…

  “I am Captain Edric Mandibor.” The man adjusted his grip on the rapier. “How may I help you gentlemen?”

  Boris seemed too exhausted to be angry. “You are the last man in the city I will tell this. If Kirath is only populated by fools, then a fool’s death you all shall have.” The captain bristled, but Earl Boris forged ahead. “Your mayor will not listen, and his guards appear to be just as moronic as he. They will not take our warning.” Boris examined the captain. “You seem made of sterner stuff, though if wiser I cannot yet tell.”

  Captain Mandibor hefted his rapier. “I would doubt that insult will give your words any heavier weight with me. I care not one whit for foreign lords, even one who’s been in tavern tales.” He flipped his cloak over one shoulder to reveal dusky mail and thick leather. “I got my job over a year ago, and no man has challenged me since.”

  Placing a calming hand on Boris’ shoulder to ease the earl’s tension, Gael took a step forward. “Please, friend, we do not seek to insult you in our haste. The truth is simple. Thousands of orcs swarm toward Kirath from fallen Highspur. For almost half a century that fortress has been my home, and now it burns under the fires of the Northlands.” He pointed with his head toward the city walls, white hair waving about his ears. “The same may well come down on your own home. If you wish to save your people you must gather them and flee toward Novon.”

  Standing there, his gloved hand working the grip of his sword, the captain examined each of the group, his study barely pausing on Jaerd. “A group such as yours could only come from Highspur, and you have no reason to lie. If the fortress has fallen then there is nothing to protect us from the Northlands.” He looked to the man who had stood close to his shoulder since they came out of the keep. “Call in the militia. We will need to roust the peasants and guard their flank while they move.”

  Jaerd sighed. He heard similar reactions from his companions.

  Boris bowed his head. “Wisely chosen, Captain.” He glanced at Joslyn Britt and Lord Gael, who both nodded. “We will do all we can to aid you in guarding your people.”

 
Watching his men scramble around him, Captain Edric Mandibor folded his arms. “If you tell true, we will need all the help we can get.”

  “It’s always easier paddling downstream, but upstream is where the gold hides.”—excerpt, Riverboat Captain’s Creed

  Tallen brushed Stew’s coat along the withers, the steady rhythm of the curry comb settling his mind, as did the soft munching sound of the horse working a feed bag. Maddi smiled at him over the brown shoulders of her own mare, standing there packed under a low roof with Shade, Fireheart, and a few other steeds. The deck of the riverboat did not shift much, but still the horses needed soothing from time to time.

  And it is a great excuse to spend time with Maddi. He looked over his shoulder at the dozen deck hands pushing poles along the riverboat’s edge. And alone time is so hard to find on this boat.

  A whoop sounded from along the shoreline where another man drove four pairs of mules, all hooked to a long hitch pulling a rope tied to the front of the riverboat. A wide track along the edge of the Andon River allowed the team to make good speed, while the polemen and rudder kept the boat moving straight and free of impediment.

  When Tallen looked back at Maddi, he noticed that she too watched the mule team.

  “Why didn’t we just ride these horses?” she mumbled, maybe only half to him. “Those mules are slower fighting the current than we would ever be on the road.”

  Tallen searched for an answer, but Tomas Harte spoke up from where he inspected Fireheart’s hooves. “Every evening, we would have to stop to rest our horses and ourselves. On the boat, we only stop every five leagues, just long enough to switch out the mule teams. This way, we still maintain that speed, even at night.” His eyes drifted over to where Tanya played with Ami in the bow. “It is by far the swiftest way for a group such as ours to travel to Gavanor.”

  Tallen watched Maddi gaze at Tanya, nervous concern playing across her features. “The duke promised to keep your house safe. We can move the three of you in there for now. The doctor won’t find you.”

  Maddi gave him a forced smile. Her focus still drifted to Tanya. “I may need a bigger place.”

  Returning her faint smile with a wider one of his own, Tallen offered his hand. “We can see about that. In the meantime, let’s get some lunch.”

  She slipped her cool hand into his. Tallen enjoyed the strength of her grip when she gave him a squeeze. “Then maybe we can find some time alone,” she whispered

  A nervous thrill shot through his chest, and Tallen cleared his throat. “I have to practice my magic with Dorias this afternoon.” He looked to where the wizard stood near the bow, his gaze upon the river and an apple in his hand. “But maybe after dinner?”

  She squeezed his hand again.

  Lunch was short, consisting of a few hard biscuits moistened with ale, some barely warmed beans, and a wrinkled apple from a barrel in the hold. Maddi sat with him, and they ate in contented silence. Eventually, Ami and Tanya joined them, the girl grinning behind her plate at Tallen. He made a silly face, and she giggled.

  When his plate was empty, he rose from the narrow table. “See you tonight for supper?”

  Maddi’s smile was warm. “I can’t wait. We can go for a walk on deck afterward.”

  Pangs of regret coursing through him, Tallen contemplated the curve of her lips for a longing moment, before he at last turned and climbed up and out. He walked toward the bow to join Dorias Ravenhawke, where the wizard watched the waters flowing by. Merl perched upon the narrow rail of the riverboat.

  “Hello, my friend,” the wizard greeted without turning. “I was thinking we should talk more about your rescue of Maddi.” Dorias tapped his pipe out upon the rail and set about repacking it from an aromatic pouch. “You only spoke of it in passing to me, and I could tell it weighed heavily upon you.” He looked up from his pipe to watch Tallen, those dark, raptor eyes full of both sympathy and curiosity. “These were the first humans you have killed with your own power…the first fellow mage. How are you sitting with that?”

  Tallen placed his hands upon the rail, staring out at the water that passed by so much more quickly than the shoreline. He listened to the creak of leather and wood coming from the mule team, along with the shouts of the teamster and occasional brays from one of the animals. He remembered the crumpled bodies of the mage and the doctor’s men, and he could not brush the images away, no matter what he tried to force in their place.

  “They haunt my dreams, Dorias.” Tallen sighed. “When I close my eyes I see their faces.” He looked up at his mentor, the pain in his heart breaking out on his face. “It’s worse than the orcs I killed in Bridgedale. I barely remember that night, yet they still hid in my dreams. But the doctor’s men…his secretary…they reach out to me in nightmares, begging me for their lives.” His voice broke, and he cleared his throat. “It’s not every night, and being around my friends makes it better.”

  Dorias eased a calming hand onto his shoulder. “Killing a man is a hard thing, Tallen. I’ve killed more men in my lifetime than most ever meet. The Balance and the Waters both know that for truth.”

  Looking up, Tallen saw that the hawkishness had faded from Dorias’ gaze, replaced by broken regret. The morose tone of Dorias’ words seemed strange coming from someone with such power. It reminded Tallen that his companions had seen many dark times, and each had suffered great tragedies on the road to their fame and fortune.

  The wizard’s voice softened as he continued. “Many of those deaths I would take back if I could. Some I would gladly kill again. But you must remember, it is the greatest burden of a wizard’s power, the ability to deal in life and death.” His hand squeezed Tallen’s shoulder. “I believe you to be a wise man, and that you will be fair in dealing it out. The fact that your first killing haunts you so only reassures me.”

  Dorias pulled his hand away and returned to watching the Andon. “Remember, too, that those you killed would have been far less bothered by your death, and that they would have hurt Maddi with just as little concern.”

  The wizard rapped his knuckles upon the rail. “Now, as to the specifics of how you defeated them. Using the Psoul Aspect to kill, to stifle the flow of life within a person’s psahn, is very dangerous, even for a mage with your powers.” He tamped down his filled pipe and lifted it toward his lips. “If you tried to do that with a Dreamer, a paladin, or even a Talented healer, they could very easily turn your power back upon itself, causing a disruption in your own psahn.”

  Dorias lit the pipe with a strand of Fire. The sweet scent rose to Tallen’s nose, making him wish he had brought his own pipe up from below. “I think I understand,” he said, his mind going back to that day. “When I reached out with Psoul, when I entered their life force pattern, I felt…exposed…like my clothing had been ripped away.” He scratched his chin, concern welling up in the back of his mind. “I tried to attack the doctor, but he slapped me back, numbing my sense of Psoul.”

  Drawing upon the pipe and puffing out a ring of blue smoke to drift along in the wind, Dorias gave Tallen a hard look. “You must have caught him by surprise, or he could have cut it off permanently. When you reach out, you open yourself up to attack. Your power gives a direct line to the heart of your psahn. If you are extended too far, you cannot withdraw quick enough to protect yourself. A skilled, prepared Dreamer could snuff out your life before you even entered his psahn.”

  “Then I am lucky you are the only other skilled Dreamer out there,” Tallen joked, hoping to cover the fear that spiraled into his bowels.

  Dorias frowned. “So far as we know. Plus, from the description of his powers, I have no doubt the Lord Doctor could have done much more had you not caught him unawares and weak from attacking Maddi.”

  Tallen’s thoughts raced down the dark paths full of unknown dangers. Those paths led in a thousand directions, each one warning him of rampant destruction or his own grisly death
. A chill, heavier than winter on the river, settled into his bones. He wrapped the gray cloak more tightly about his shoulders.

  Clearing his throat, Dorias spoke around the pipe clenched in his teeth. “Regardless, I am glad that you seem to understand, though I doubt anyone truly can.” He puffed blue smoke into the wind. “Come. Let us use our power in Water to see if we cannot speed our journey.”

  Light snow covered the banks of the Andon, the scattered whiteness having fallen during the night. Steam rose from the hot tea as Tallen blew across it. He sipped at its lightly sweetened contents, and it warmed him as it went down. The smell of bacon frying on a charcoal fire reached his nose over the fruity scent of the tea. The clatter of wood sounded behind him, followed by a burst of laughter from a man and the giggle of a girl.

  “That’s right,” the man’s voice called. “You’re already getting the hang of it.”

  Tallen turned to see Gwelan Whitehand parry a swing from Tanya, who held a carved wooden sword. The clack echoed across the deck and the water.

  “I’m not letting anyone hurt Ami or Maddi again,” the girl shouted with another hearty swing.

  Gwelan parried. “Well, you are a good beginner, but you still have a lot to learn.”

  He twisted his own wooden sword and sent hers flying across the deck, where it skidded to a halt at the head of the gangway. Maddi emerged from below just as it stopped.

  “What are you doing?” she shouted, stamping up onto the deck. She looked at Tanya who shook a stinging hand. “You’ve hurt her!”

  Maddi ran to hold Tanya, who pushed against the embrace.

  “I’m all right,” she said, pulling away and jogging over to the little sword. “I want to learn and Mister Gwelan promised to teach me.”