Shadeborn: A Book of Underrealm (11 page)

“Stop that.”

“What?”

“You look at me with pity. I do not request it, nor do I need it. And most importantly, I do not
want
it. Save it for Xain, who suffers greater than any of us.”

“You think I pity you? Though I will admit it pains me to see you suffer as you do.”

“I do not suffer!” Loren shouted without realizing it. She drew a deep breath and spoke in a more measured tone. “I do not suffer. Yes, I am worried, and you are a fool if you do not understand why.”
 

“You cannot lie to me, as I have already said.”

She forced her words. “You think I am lying? Very well. Tell me the truth.”

“I saw you this morning. I saw in your face the moment when you almost killed that woman.”

“I did not almost kill her.”

“You cannot—”

“I am
not
lying!” This time, Loren did not care how loud she was. “I am not a murderer!”

“I know it. You stayed your hand, and for that I am proud of you. I know few others—mayhap no one, who would have shown such restraint.”

Anger fled her like a gust of wind, and like the wind it left her cold. She slumped, shoulders sagging, and sat upon the ground. Slowly, Chet came and sat before her. She thought for a moment that he might take her hands, but he did not.
 

“Ever since I left the forest, I have told myself I was better than those who would kill without thinking,” she said quietly. “There are so many times when it would have been easier, but I refused. And I chastised those who I thought took lives too easily.”

“You were not wrong. Still you are not. You have been sorely tested, and faltered. But you did not fail. I wish you did not have to take this test. Do you understand? I wish you could abandon this quest, not only because I fear for your life. I do not want to see your mind broken by whatever madness runs rampant across the nine lands.”

Loren shook her head. “To turn aside now would make me a coward. If we do not act, the madness you speak of would gather in strength until all things were swept asunder before it. Mayhap, if Jordel were still alive, I could leave it in his hands. But he died, and now I feel as though right and wrong slip through my fingers, pooling upon the ground until I can no longer tell one from the other.”

“All the more reason to go,” said Chet. “I do not believe in a darkness so great that we cannot outrun it.”

“You do not know what I have seen. These Shades are not the worst of it. They are but the servants of a dark power, a wizard they call the Necromancer.”

“Who is he? “I have heard nothing of it. And besides, what is one wizard in all the nine lands?”

“He—if he is a man, for we do not know—is not just a wizard. He is the master of death itself. The nine lands will fall before him if he is not stopped, and only the Mystics can resist him.”

Chet looked away, thinking. Then he said, “Very well. You say you must tell them, for the memory of your friend. You have my faith in that. Let us give this warning, and then they may fight their war. But we need take no part. We can return home or go to any other land you wish.”

Loren swallowed. “I do not know that for certain. But if no more is required of me once I have brought these tidings, then I will go with you.”

“Promise me that—”

“No,” she said quickly. “I cannot. I will promise to try, and that must be enough.”

The moons had risen, and they shone in Chet’s eyes as he studied her. Finally, he nodded. “It is.”

“Good.” She sighed. “Then let us return to the others and ride on.”

“In all haste. For the sooner we reach Feldemar, the sooner I mean to ride with you away from all this, if I must tie you to my saddle to do it.”

Loren kicked his shin, leaving Chet hopping back to the horses.

Loren let them stop when the moons set, and they slept in restless fits in the three hours of darkness before dawn. Xain volunteered to stay on watch, but Loren might as well have stayed with him, for she found it hard to find any sleep.

Dawn came with no sign of pursuit. Still they rode north quickly. And now they had resumed their earlier caution, so whenever they reached a river the party would ride for a mile or more before getting back on course.
 

After they stopped for a midday meal, Chet called them to a halt and pointed. Far above the trees, they could see thin wisps of white smoke rising ahead.
 

“Signs of a village,” said Loren.

“I thought we turned away from your home,” said Gem.

“Not
their
village, you dolt,” said Annis. “Do you think there is only one in all this great expanse of forest? My tutors used to tell me there were hundreds, perhaps tens of hundreds, all within a day’s ride, but who barely ever saw each other. They say, living so far from any other living thing, their spoken tongue can change throughout the generations, so that sometimes when they meet each other they must talk with their hands.”

“That is ridiculous,” said Loren. “We knew of other villages within the Birchwood, and would meet them on occasion. We never spoke with our hands.”

Annis shrugged. “Mayhap you did not go deep enough into the woods.”

Xain had been grinding his teeth, but now he spoke. “Will you all be silent? Do we make for the village or avoid it?”

Chet said, “I say we go there. They will be friendly, and perhaps we could pay to spend the night under a roof instead of the stars. It would be wise to replenish our supplies. We lack for nothing now, but that may not always hold true.”

“The wise man keeps his larder full, even in times of plenty,” said Xain. “Very well. Lead on, woodsman.”

“Hold,” said Loren. “What if the Shades come to the village after we have gone? They will learn of our course and can guess where we mean to go.”

“What if they have reached the village already?” said Gem quietly.

They all paused. Annis looked into the trees. Loren felt chilled to the bone.
 

“I doubt they reached it already,” said Chet. “Or if so, then they did not attack, for we would see darker, thicker smoke heaving from the homes if so.”

“Mayhap,” said Loren, uncertain.

“And mayhap your other concern may be turned to advantage,” said Xain. “We may tell any villagers met that we are heading west. The Shades, if they pursue us, will think we are doubling back or making for some other destination. It may throw them off our trail.”

“It might,” said Loren. “Or it could endanger the village terribly. If the Shades believe they know something, they may strike the village down in wrath to learn our whereabouts.”

“If the Shades believe the villagers are hiding something, they will strike regardless,” said Chet quietly. “Mayhap it is best to give them that information, willingly and without deception, so that they may pass it on freely and avoid the slaughter.”

A chilling thought that Loren could not deny. “Very well. Only let us make for the village from the east, so that we may approach it in a way that lends credence to our direction.”
 

“A fine plan.” Gem licked his lips. “I enjoy talk of wise men, but I like a full larder best.”

fourteen

It took them several more hours to finally reach a small cluster of homes built in a section of wood that had been cleared for the settlement. As they came closer, approaching from the east as planned, Loren saw signs of the inhabitants all around—a small shed built out in the trees, a woodsman’s saw and axe laying near a tree, even some hastily abandoned food.

But when at last they came in sight of the village, they saw that all their caution had been in vain.

At first, Loren saw nothing amiss, for the place was quiet. There was no one in sight, and the only movement was the same ghosts of smoke they had seen from afar, pluming lazily from chimneys.

They saw the first body moments later. It was a woman, or had been. A wound gaped from her chest, her guts littered the forest floor around her. She lay facedown, and had clearly been crawling.

Annis gave a little scream, and Gem’s hand shot to cover her mouth. Loren’s stomach twisted. Her teeth clenched, and she quickly turned her eyes. Beside her, Chet had gone the same shade of elf-white Loren had seen while fleeing the massacre in Northwood.

“Xain, stay here with the children,” said Loren. “Chet, come with me.”

“It could be dangerous,” he said, still pale as a sheet.

“Someone could be alive. Mayhap they need help. Stay if you want, but I will not.”

So saying, Loren leapt from Midnight’s saddle and pulled the bow from her back, nocking an arrow but holding it loose. After a moment, she heard the heavy
thud
of Chet’s boots landing in the grass, followed by his soft footsteps. She felt a flutter of relief, but still the hairs on her neck rose ever more as she advanced.

The village was like a charnel house, with bodies strewn about anywhere. As in Northwood, no one had been spared. Blood had pooled together, and the bodies lay facedown in it, like weary travelers cooling their brows in a river of red. Some had been maimed, their limbs lying close, while others had been skewered or flayed open. But of the attackers there was no sign, nor were any of the homes cast down or burnt.

“Why did they leave the village standing?” Chet walked a half pace behind her and to the side, holding his staff like a spear.

“Why should they not?” said Loren. “The Shades have no interest in this place. Likely they were searching for us.”

“But we left them vanquished in the woods days ago.”

“Only four. You and I saw more than that when they came by our campfire, and I would guess that there are many, many more in the woods. Likely they have divided themselves into several parties, roving through the Birchwood in search of us.”

Loren jumped and whirled around at a sharp cry behind them but saw no threat. She heard it again and felt the need to retch as she realized its source: one of the corpses was not the shell she had believed it to be. He was a young man, probably no older than Chet. At first, she thought he was standing against a wall. Then she saw the metal spikes, and the angry red wounds in his hands. He was not standing. He had been nailed there.

“Get him down!” She ran forward. Loren grasped the head of one of the spikes and pulled as hard as she could. It barely budged.
 

Chet came and tugged the other spike out. The young man sagged, screaming as all of his weight was put on the other hand. The spike ripped out before they could remove it, passing through flesh as he sagged to the ground with another scream.

His eyes had been gouged out; the wounds were burnt as though made with a red-hot poker. Blood gushed from his hands, but there were no more cuts on his body, only deep burns and many, many bruises. He whimpered like an animal, and Loren nearly retched again as she saw his legs bent at odd angles.

“No more,” he said. “No more, I beg of you.”

“It is all right,” Loren said, though the words came from nowhere, and she knew them for a lie. “They have gone. We are here to help you.”

“Who are you?” He reached for her arm. “Who is that? Is that Dinna?”

“No, it . . ." Loren struggled for the words. “I am only a passerby. No one is here. They are all . . . they are all gone.”

He broke into sobs, though no tears left his ruined sockets. Loren whipped off her cloak, rolled it up, gingerly lifted his head, and placed the cloak beneath it.
 

The boy kept weeping.

“Loren . . ." said Chet gravely. She knew his mind without needing the words. They had no healing for these wounds. Nor would any healer in all the nine kingdoms.

She silenced him with a look and gently covered the boy’s hand with hers. His fingers tried to close over Loren’s, but the pain of his mangled hand was too much, and he gave up.

“Who did this?” she asked, her voice soft and gentle.

“Loren!” Chet repeated, this time in astonishment. He fell silent at another of her hard looks.

“They were soldiers.” The boy’s voice gurgled in his throat. “I do not know. They had weapons, and armor. Their captain was a beast.”

Loren felt a chill of premonition. “What did he look like? Was he dark of skin?”