A Darkness Unleashed (Book 2) Page 7

  Tallen noticed the wary look Maddi cast in Gwelan’s direction. The swordsman bowed his shaven head, mostly covered by a black knit cap. Leaning over with fluid grace, Maddi picked up the sword herself and took a few steps toward Gwelan.

  “Then let’s see if you are good enough to teach my girl,” she said, hefting the sword and staring at Gwelan.

  The man nodded. “Fair enough.”

  He lifted his sword to salute her, but it quickly turned into a parry of her first blow. The harsh smack of wood on wood echoed in Tallen’s ear.

  Gwelan smiled over clenched teeth. “You have a strong arm.”

  He blocked four swift blows from Maddi, most of them aimed toward his head.

  “I’m fast too,” Maddi said with a grin.

  She threw another flurry of blows in Gwelan’s direction. Tallen held his breath at the sight. I’ve seen her fight, but never with such ferocity. And this Gwelan Whitehand, he holds her at bay with every swing or stab.

  The two danced across the deck of the riverboat, a small crowd gathering to watch. Tallen and Tanya stood rooted, while Tomas Harte emerged from below. Even Merl fluttered down to watch from the back of a bale of leather goods.

  Maddi leaped over a barrel in apparent retreat then spun to land a blow that Gwelan barely caught with his own blade. The concentration on his face shifted to a more serious demeanor, and he returned a swift riposte, which Maddi ducked only by a razor’s edge. She moved swiftly to her right, faking a swing that Gwelan moved to block. Before they made contact, Maddi used a large box as a step and flipped head over heels to land on the far side. She smiled as she swung hard for his back.

  Somehow the swordsman twisted, catching Maddi’s blow while still on one foot. Her wooden blade glanced to the side and Maddi lost her footing. She scrambled to parry a vicious return from Gwelan.

  With a roar, Maddi leaped at him, and the two tumbled over each other, their blades locked. When they came to a stop, she held her empty hand’s thumb at his throat.

  “Normally I have a second blade,” she panted, sweat running down her face.

  “So do I,” Gwelan replied with less exertion in his voice. Tallen noticed he held two fingers of his left hand under her ribs.

  “Fair enough,” Maddi answered, letting go and hopping to her feet. She offered Gwelan a hoisting hand, and he took it. “If you are careful, you can train her.” She handed the wooden sword to Tanya with a smile.

  The little girl beamed in admiration. “I didn’t know you were so great!” Tanya shifted to a more sheepish expression. “Will you teach me, too?”

  Maddi patted her on her ruddy head, her breaths still coming heavy. “I’m teaching you your herbs, and Ami is teaching you your letters. Gwelan can teach you blades, or at least enough to protect yourself.”

  Tanya gave an exasperated sigh before running over to attack Gwelan again. With a sure smile, he dodged her thrust, then began instruction in what she did wrong. Maddi looked at Tallen, giving him a concerned glance. He walked over and put his arm around her shoulders.

  “I knew you were that great.” He kissed her forehead. “Tanya has been thrust into a dangerous world, just like we have. No one chose it save those who seek to harm us. It’s a good idea for her to learn something about how to protect herself.” He laughed. “Remember how inept I was that night you found us in Gavanor? Do you really want her to be that vulnerable?”

  Maddi allowed a small grin on her lips. “You were a pretty easy mark.” The grin widened. “I think she’s already more dangerous than you were.”

  Tallen squeezed her tightly and whispered close to her ear. “Now that everyone is up here watching them, maybe we can find somewhere quiet down below.”

  Giggling like a girl herself, Maddi took his hand and led him down the gangway. The quiet corner they found, cold as it was, soon warmed with their passion. Tallen held his breath at the ferocity of her kisses and the speed with which her hands slipped through his cloak and under his tunic.

  Around her soft, moist lips he was able to whisper, “Maybe I should encourage you to fight more often before we…”

  Her tongue stopped his words, and his hands found things far more exciting to do.

  Later that night, the torch lit wharves of Magdonton faded behind them into the darkness. A new mule train pulled the riverboat at a fast clip, and Tallen sniffed a newly brought on barrel of smoked trout. Maddi clasped his hand and pulled him toward the bow of the boat.

  “Come on,” she said, tapping the goatskin flask slung over her shoulder. “I found a tavern with a newly opened barrel of Windlewyne Red. I’d love to share it with you.”

  Tallen laughed. “I’d love for you to share it with me.”

  In the very point of the bow, hidden behind a netted stack of amphorae filled with olive oil, Maddi curled up within the crook of Tallen’s arm. He sipped at the smooth, luscious wine then passed her the goatskin. She sipped it too, smiling at him from behind the flask.

  Tallen leaned back to gaze at the swirl of stars, bright in the firmament overhead – thousands of points, flickering in the night. The lights of Magdonton had faded in the distance, and the shapes of the constellations shone in multi-hued forms against the black void. But all that majesty only skimmed across his awareness, as most of it remained consumed by Maddi’s closeness and the jasmine scent of her hair.

  He leaned to whisper in her ear. “Do the stars have the same names in the Free Cities that they do in Gannon?”

  She cuddled up closer to him. “For the most part. There is the Virgin Star, and the Scorpion.” Maddi waved at a straight line of pinpoints. “There is Caliburn, the Sword Talisman.” She pointed at another set shaped in a lopsided square. “And there is Codex, the Burned Book.”

  Tallen wrinkled his brow. “Isn’t that one of the Five Talismans as well?”

  Nodding as she took another nip from the flask, Maddi pointed to a different cluster of stars. “There’s one you should recognize.”

  Reaching into his pocket, Tallen fumbled for a little piece of metal. He pulled out the tiny cup she had given him, and held it up against the sky. “Greal, the Cup.”

  Her smile was unmistakable in the starlight. “You keep it with you?”

  “All the time,” he replied, twirling the stem of the chalice in his fingers. “Sometimes…Waters, this is embarrassing…sometimes I even sat it out and poured a little wine in it when I ate alone in my room.” The heat rushed to Tallen’s face, and he hoped that it did not show in the night. “It felt kind of like you were there with me.”

  Her lips, sweet and cool from the wine, pressed against his, and Tallen lost himself in a long minute of passion. The skin of her back felt smoother than fine cream under his fingers. The blaze of his power seemed faded and immaterial compared to the warmth of her body. He chased her for another kiss when she pulled away, but her soft fingertip touched his lips.

  “Later.” She turned back over to beam at the sky and cuddled closer into the crook of his arm. “Just what do you know about the Talismans? They are very important to the people of the Free Cities, almost as much as the Aspects of magic themselves.”

  Tallen shifted so that as much of her body as possible remained in contact with his. “Well, I know about Caliburn the Sword. And Greal is the second one.”

  Maddi shook her head. “Greal is the Fifth Talisman. Their order is important, for it is the order in which they were given to the races.”

  Running his hand along her arm, he then intertwined his fingers with hers. “What are the rest?”

  Lifting her fingers, Maddi cleared her throat. “Well, Caliburn is the First Talisman, given to Humans from the Waters. Then there is Auron, the Coin, given to Dwarves from the depths of Earth.” She held up a third finger. “Then comes Feldarr, the Staff, given to the Elves by the spirits of Air. The Fourth Talisman was Codex, the Burned Book of the Orc
s. It was destroyed in the Elder Days, a thousand years before the Dragon Wars ever began.” She grabbed his other hand, which still held the little golden chalice. “Greal is the Cup given to all races, a sign and a hope for unity and peace. That is why we revere it so in the Free Cities, where humans, elves, and dwarves all live together.”

  With his mind focused on little other than her closeness, Tallen nuzzled her dark, silken hair. “I’ve heard some of that. We had many bards from the Free Cities visit the Gryphon, and they often told stories of the Talismans. Usually only about the Quest for Caliburn, though.”

  Maddi snickered. “That is the lamest of the stories. Honorable knights saving poor maidens.” She sighed and held her hand to her forehead in a mock faint. “They are ever so dainty and helpless in those stories – so clearly in need of rescuing.” She barked a laugh. “No wonder you Gannonite men like to hear it over and over again.”

  He poked her shoulder with a finger. “I only enjoy the part where Paeradur casts Caliburn into the Sari Sea to stop the wars over the sword. He sacrificed his power to save his people.” Tallen shook his head. “Few kings do that.”

  Maddi kissed him once again, this time just a short engagement full of further promises. “When we get to Gavanor, I really, really want to show you my house.” She watched an off duty poleman sitting nearby with a bottle. “We can have real privacy there.”

  Tallen kissed her forehead and flipped his cloak closer about them against the chill in the night. “I can’t wait.”

  The citadel tower of Gavanor brooded from the peak of Malador’s Stone under a leaden sky. Tallen led Stew across the wide planks from the riverboat to the stone wharf, their first steps a little wobbly. A soft rub and a little coaxing with an apple, and Stew came along toward the city proper.

  Tomas held Fireheart nearby, one hand stroking the roan’s mane. “We will enter through the Watergate and head directly to the citadel.” He fingered his sword. “Something is wrong here. This city is on edge.”

  Tallen looked around the wharf and docks, his own senses beginning to pick up on the mood of the people there. Dozens of ships loaded passengers headed downriver. Dockmen moved loads with irregular speed. Several squads of green-coated soldiers marched back and forth, while a platoon of Bluecloaks stood guard near the granaries.

  Dorias heaved Merl into the sky, and the raven took off in a westward arc. “Something grave has happened, or is about to happen.”

  Tomas led them up the city streets, climbing along the edge of Malador’s Stone. Near the top, where the citadel wall hugged the stony peak, the Watergate sat with one door slightly ajar. A company of emerald guards stood at sharp attention in front of it. Their captain held up one hand.

  “Your pardon, sirs, but due to the state of emergency no one is allowed admittance to the citadel grounds save those on official state business.” His armor glittered with polish, but the man’s demeanor was grave. “I must ask who you are and where you are going.”

  Tomas shifted so the Sigil of Balance tattooed on his hand flashed toward the captain. “I am Tomas Harte, Paladin of Balance, once Lord of Harlong. I have served with Duke Aginor on several occasions, and know him as a friend. I would ask that you send a runner to inform him of my arrival.” He gestured toward the rest of the party to the green-cloaked officer. “We come with dark tidings, but it seems this city already has its own. Pray tell, Captain, what has happened to create this uneasy state.”

  The man looked at one of his subordinates who gave a surprised shrug before sending a runner. “Perhaps you have not heard, my Lord Paladin, but word has reached the Western Realm that Highspur has fallen.”

  A hollow, sucking feeling pulled Tallen’s heart deep into his chest, leaving an empty space where it had been beating. He shook his head, certain he had heard the captain’s words wrong. Hoping it was so. He looked to Dorias, but only saw a reflection of what must be his own stunned stare. A cool hand slipped into his, and he felt Maddi next to him, but even her presence did not penetrate his numbed senses.

  Tomas’ voice remained its usual baritone. “These tidings are confirmed, Captain? A messenger from the fortress has brought this news?”

  “Indeed.” The captain fiddled with a tassel on his sword. “A Silverback…er, excuse me sir, a Bluecloak messenger set by Highspur’s commanders to watch during the final days of the fortress. The man witnessed the gates fall from a distance. He rode his horse to death getting to the Free Cities, and nearly killed another getting here yesterday.”

  “Were there any survivors?” Dorias asked the question Tallen could not force out of his mouth.

  The captain bowed his head. “None as yet, though hope remains.”

  “Jaerd?” Tallen whispered. Maddi squeezed his hand.

  The captain shook his head. “If you mean Wolfsgate Captain Jaerd Westar, I wish I knew. He was a friend of mine. I assume you are the brother he often mentioned. You have his look.” He peered at the group once again then gave a nod to his lieutenant. “We will not wait for the runner. Come. I will take you to the citadel myself.”

  Their procession up the last slope of Malador’s Stone passed in a blur. Tallen’s only thoughts were of his brother, save a few for his other friends who had ridden westward. Images of them lying dead on cold stone battlements raced through his mind, only to be followed by thoughts of vicious fangs and bloody, curved swords. He shook his head but could not completely rid himself of the dreadful pictures in his brain.

  Duke Aginor awaited them on the front terrace, a small cluster of his generals and barons nearby. “Lord Tomas, my friend, you have come to visit at a dark hour.” He pointed at Dorias. “Knowing your history and the company you keep, I doubt that is pure coincidence.”

  Tomas bowed his head. “Duke Aginor. We come from Daynon, and have only now received the news. When we left the capital, word of the siege had just arrived.” A knot of worry formed on the paladin’s pale face. “How has this happened?”

  The duke shook his head. “No one knows yet. The one messenger arrived yesterday evening, and he still rests in my infirmary. His words were only of the gate crashing open, and a horde of orcs that followed. He did not remain to see more before he hastened this way.”

  Tomas and Dorias looked at each other, the concern etched deeply upon their brow. Gwelan Whitehand, silent since their arrival in Gavanor, remained at the rear behind a trembling Tanya and Ami. The mysterious man only surveyed their surroundings, but something deep down in Tallen felt his disquiet.

  “So there could be survivors not yet arrived.” The wizard rubbed his charcoal goatee. “They could be wandering in the Wastes or the wilderness near the Free Cities.” He shifted the belt on his leather vest. “We need to get out there and find out.”

  A fierce frown crossed Aginor’s face. “That is what we will do, Ravenhawke.” Though the anger appeared pointed at the wizard, Tallen noticed the duke eyeing the noble with a ruby and onyx clustered pendant. “I will have five thousand cavalry in the field at dawn tomorrow. You are all welcome to join us when we ride.”

  Before the duke started to turn, Maddi spoke up from near Tallen’s shoulder. “Your Grace, if you’ll remember me from last summer. The earl took me with him. You promised to secure my home for me.”

  Aginor paused. “Ah yes, Miss Conaleon. I remember you and your companion well. You took my best captain, and Earl Boris kept him. Your home is as you left it, I assure you.” A quizzical expression ran across his face. “I believe I have heard further rumor of you since you left our city. Rumors of a woman called ‘Lifegiver’.” He waved at a captain in brown-trimmed blue. “I have heard of this hospital idea of yours, and I want you to build one for me here in Gavanor.”

  Now Tallen sensed the same shock from Maddi she must have sensed in him a moment ago. He put his arm around her.

  “Well now,” he murmured to her, “Looks like there are a few stories
you haven’t told me yet.”

  “The best soldier is the one defending his home.” – Lord Marshal Geovan Starsis, 278 A.R.

  Jaerd blew warm air into his fist, trying to drive the cold from his fingers. A long train of cumbersome wagons crawled through the snow, stacked with every imaginable household or shopkeeper’s item. Children and elders huddled in the wagons along with the flotsam. Despite the differences in their faces, they all wore the same look of fear. A few men with mismatched armor and rusty swords rode between the carts, some of which held grain and other foodstuffs. Not nearly enough.

  Dawne brought her horse up beside him, the reins disappearing into the folds of her cloak. A few fat snowflakes rested on her shoulders, and more drifted from the leaden sky. The brownberry dye had begun to fade from her tresses, and a few strands of burnished gold hung from her cowl.

  “Did you eat well this morning?” Jaerd examined her pale complexion. “You must eat enough when on the move in this weather.”

  She scrunched her face and stuck out her tongue. “I had oatmeal and dried berries. It was hot enough.”

  Jaerd looked beyond her to the town of Kirath sitting on its hill. A day and a night and we’ve only covered a few miles. We’ll never beat the horde at this pace.

  “We have to dump some of this baggage,” he whispered half to himself.

  Dawne shook her head sadly. “Most of these people feel like baggage.”

  “We are doing our best,” Jaerd growled at her. “These folk deserve respect for having the courage to move.” He swung his finger toward the mayor’s keep in the distance, and its four beehive granaries. “Plenty were stubborn enough fools to stay.”

  Pulling her cloak higher on her shoulders, Dawne rubbed her reddened nose. “You’re right. This cold has me in a grumpy mood.”

  Jaerd patted her back. “Me too, sis.”

  They watched the slow moving train for another hour before the thunder of hooves tore from the tree line. Captain Mandibor charged up on his destrier, concern on his face. Earl Boris, Magus Britt, and Lord Gael followed close behind, their own steeds churning up the snow. Brawny followed on their heels, his tongue lolling out and his breath blasting steam. Pushing his horse forward, Jaerd rode out to meet them.