Shadeborn: A Book of Underrealm (9 page)

“Always I have wondered if I would live to see it, the day when the sisters finally find their way to those who wait. I wonder what it would look like, a sky with no moons.”

“It would be a sadder thing, I think.”
 

“I think you are right.” Chet sighed.
 

They were quiet after that. Even Gem had stopped rustling above them, though Loren still thought she heard the occasional start from Xain. Finally, Chet spoke again. “This part of the journey is not so bad.”

“You are right. It is the times before, and after, that make up for it.”

He laughed, but then grew dour and in a whisper said, “I . . . I cannot stop seeing the streets of Northwood.”
 

Chet was easier to spy in the moonlight, and Loren saw a faraway look in his eyes, a look she knew well. “It may be some time until you can.”

“Was it the same for you?”

“That I do not know, for I cannot see inside your mind. But I can tell you that when I first saw people kill each other, the faces of the dead haunted my dreams for days.”

“What made it stop?”

Loren thought of the long road since. “Many things worse.”

Chet did not look comforted and turned his face to the moons. Seized by impulse, Loren took his hand in hers. Almost at once, she felt unsure and began to draw back. But his fingers tightened in comfort, so she let her hand still. He did not look at her, nor she at him. Together, they watched the moons.

Then a shadow passed in front of the fire below.

They pushed forward to peer into the night. There—Loren saw it again. A dark figure crossed the fire’s light, then another. She could see them lit by the orange glow. Eight figures she counted, glimpsing their horses in the trees. She saw at least one grey cloak, but none of the Shades’ blue-and-grey.
 

Loren’s heart sank, for she knew the truth: whoever the figures were, they were predators who had at last found signs of their prey.
 

They stomped out the fire, cast dirt upon it, and disappeared into the darkness beneath the trees.

Loren’s breath left in a
whoosh.
 

“You left no trail that might lead them up this rise?”

“None,” said Chet. “With any luck, they shall think we doubled back and made for the river. They will follow it farther north, and by the time they realize their mistake, we shall be leagues away.”

“With any luck,” said Loren. “But my travels have not given me reason to rely overmuch on fortune.”

“Let us wait an hour. Then we will wake the others. If we wish to make use of our lead, we cannot spend the night here.”

“You are right. Close your eyes now—I shall wake you when the moons change places.”

Chet curled closer to the tree’s trunk, propped between his branch and the one beside it. Soon, his eyes were shut in slumber, lips slightly parted and deep breaths wheezing between them.
 

Loren turned her eyes outward, rubbed a thumb across her right palm, and did not stop until she woke them all an hour later.

eleven

The children slowly opened their eyes with many grumbles, but when Loren went to rouse Xain, she found the wizard awake and staring at her in the moonslight.
 

Loren suppressed a shiver. “They followed us to our camp. We left a false trail, and they moved on. Now we mean to ride, while darkness still hides us.”

He nodded and stood. Together, the party climbed down from the tree to land softly upon the grass. Loren and Chet led them off into the trees, with Xain taking the rear. Her gaze wandered before them, searching for any sign of movement. Most likely Chet was right, and the Shades would follow their trail to the river. But she was keenly aware that they could be stepping right into a trap.
 

But they saw nothing on their ride to the river, nor after reaching the other side. Loren led them to the cave with their horses. She heard Midnight’s gentle nicker, and sighed relief. They fetched their mounts, gained their saddles, and made for the river again. Once they had crossed, Loren spurred them, quickly as she dared in the dim light.

All night they rode, until the sky grew grey and finally broke with dawn’s light. They rode longer until they found a stream where they might water the horses. Finally, Loren called them to a halt.

“Well?” said Chet. “We have seen no sign of them and have gained many leagues. Do you think they will leave off?”

“I doubt it,” she said. “We should guess they will be at least as tireless as we are, and mayhap more so. Then we cannot be surprised, except pleasantly.”

“What do you mean to do, then?” Gem yawned. “Ride on until we collapse? I do not think that will help our cause. I am blessed with great stamina, but even I tire eventually.”

“Yes, we are all well aware of your great endurance.” Annis rolled her eyes. “Never have I called you the Prince of Snores under my breath.”

He narrowed his eyes and glared at her a long moment. “Good.”

“I am not ready to let us rest,” Loren said. “Not yet. If indeed we mean to lose them, we must ride longer. Eat now, and stretch your legs upon the grass. But then we move on, and quicker than before.”

Annis and Gem grumbled, but she ignored them and went to fetch her breakfast from Midnight’s saddle. Then, because the mare had run hard all night, she fetched an apple from the bag as well and fed it to her. But Chet grabbed his hatchet and walked off into the woods. Curious, Loren followed.

She found him a ways off, looking at a young oak’s lower branches. He chose one, firmly gripped it, then began to hack near where it joined the trunk.

“What are you up to?” she asked.

“I hope we have left our pursuers behind. But then again they might find us, and next time it may come to a fight. If it does, I would see us armed. Yet we have no blades, nor would I wish to use one if we did, any more than you. I thought I could make us some staves. Indeed, it would be nice to have a walking stick in any case, for when the ground grows rough.”

Loren smiled. “A wise thought. I am glad to find you so helpful, for I had thought you saw this road as folly.”

“Oh, I do,” he said quickly. The branch came off the oak at last. Chet measured the height and began to cut away at the other end. “I still think we should abandon our course and ride north, or south, or anywhere other than where we mean to go. Only so long as I am trailing in your footsteps, I might as well try to make that road less perilous. Who knows? If indeed they are still following, mayhap we shall find aid in the village. A score of woodsmen could help us fend them off in short order.”

Her spirits dampened, and Loren looked away. “Chet, that is a poor idea.”

“Why?” He shrugged. “They know the Birchwood better than anyone. Do you think they could not drive away a dozen fighters, even these Shades?”

“I do not wish to argue.” She turned away. “Only let us hope we have lost them.”

Leaving Chet to his work, Loren returned to the others. The children sat in the grass eating, while the horses had taken their fill of the stream and so grazed along the ground.

“Where has Chet gone?” said Annis.

“He is fashioning staves for us. In case more trouble finds us.”

“I shall keep my blade, if it is all the same to you,” said Gem. “I am still practicing stances I learned from Jordel, but I could take one of these Shades in a fight.”

“Of that we are all certain.” Xain rolled his eyes. Loren smiled. Though the wizard still looked thin and wasted, it was encouraging to hear him jest.

They enjoyed the morning sunlight until Loren was ready to fetch Chet and ride on. Halfway to standing he returned, carrying five staves of varying sizes. One he threw to Loren, and she easily caught it. The others he dumped on the ground before Gem, Annis, and Xain, save for his, which he held.

“Here you are. Some fine walking sticks if we must dismount—or weapons, if we are forced to fight.”

“I told Loren already, but I prefer my sword.” Gem nudged his staff away with a toe, though Annis had taken hers and was curiously hefting its weight. Xain had scarcely glanced at his.

“But a sword can rarely prevail against a staff,” said Chet. “A blade is a fine weapon for a battle, yes. But if you are not standing in rank and file, you should take the weapon with the longer reach.”

“Fah!” said Gem. “Do you think you could have stood against Mag, if she carried her sword and you a staff?”

“Not Mag. Yet the point stands. I will show you. Take up your blade, and come for me.”

Gem looked doubtful. “I do not wish to hurt you.”

“You shall not. But move slowly, if it comforts you to do so.”

Gem stood and adopted his stance. Loren still remembered the day Jordel had given the boy his blade and shown him the forms, back when they rode through the Greatrocks. He had taken to his training with gusto, but even to Loren’s eye he still seemed very much a novice. She leaned back, hands planted in the grass, watching with amusement.

Gem slowly stepped forward and swung, a wide arc that left Chet a long moment to sidestep. Instead, he lashed out with his staff, so hard it knocked the blade from Gem’s hand. The other end of the staff came around to rest on the boy’s shoulder.

“And you are bested,” said Chet.

Gem greeted his words with a glare. “I was moving slowly.”

“Then try it faster.”

He did. This time, he struck with greater vigor, though Loren could tell he still withheld. Chet struck back faster than before. He did not even aim for the sword; he merely swung the staff at Gem’s head. The boy yelped and leaned back, away from the blow, his own swing turning weak and ineffectual. Chet flipped the staff at the boy’s ankle, and Gem tumbled into the grass. Annis yelped and flung herself backward as his short sword flew through the air and landed on the grass where she had been sitting.

“I am sorry!” Chet dropped his staff and ran to Annis. “Did it strike you?”

“I am fine,” she said, looking down at the sword with distrust.

But Gem had grown angry, and leapt up from the ground to jump Chet from behind. Before Loren could intervene, he had wrapped his arms around the older boy’s neck, legs circling Chet’s waist to restrain him. Chet seized the boy’s spindly arms and lunged in a blink, flipping Gem over his shoulder to land hard upon his back. Breath left him in a
whoosh
,
and he lay there, gasping.

“A fair attempt at an ambush,” said Chet without a note of anger. “Mayhap later I can teach you wrestling to go with your sword training.”

“It would please me greatly if you would fling yourself into the river,” said Gem through wheezing gasps.

“Enough,” said Loren. “Gem, take your staff or not, as you will. But the rest of us should carry ours, for we have no other ways to defend ourselves. Xain, can you carry yours?”

“I am not so feeble as all that,” snapped the wizard, glaring at Loren. But his frail voice betrayed him. Still, he snatched up the staff where it lay at his feet and used it to lever himself to standing. He leaned on the stick, looking for all the world like some wise old courtly sorcerer from tales.

“Now he looks a proper wizard,” said Gem, grinning. Xain’s frown deepened, and he twisted his fingers. A globe of flame sprang to life and crashed into the ground by Gem’s head. He shrieked and rolled away.

twelve

They mounted and rode. The night had left them all weary, but the Birchwood’s beauty in summer did much to raise spirits and sharpen wits.
 

Fifteen summers Loren had spent beneath these trees, but until recently she had never thought her sixteenth would bring her back. Loren thought she had seen all the forest had to offer, but now she had new eyes. The green leaves, the gentle brown of the branches and trunks, seemed more beautiful to Loren than they ever had when she dwelt there. The birdsong more pleasant, rolling slopes of land gentler and more inviting. Many dark months she had spent elsewhere in the nine lands, in filthy, crowded cities, along the soggy banks of the Dragon’s Tail river, and in the Greatrocks’ unforgiving crags. Now, returned to her childhood home, Loren could see the beauty she had never noticed.

The unexpected feeling grew stronger through the ride and stayed with Loren when she at last let them rest for the night. The next day passed much the same, and Loren found her homesickness growing. Her heart felt heavy as she remembered Chet’s pleading words. Mayhap, once they reached their village, they
could
stay a while as he wished.

Loren shed the thought. That sort of thinking had kept them in Northwood far too long, and mayhap invited that city’s death. It had almost got them killed—and would have if not for the sacrifice of Mag, Sten, and Albern. She owed it to their memories, as well as Jordel’s, to press on. Once they warned the Mystics and his brethren knew of the coming danger, mayhap then she could return to the Birchwood and live in peace—or visit before resuming her journey as she had often dreamt of, this time with Chet at her side.

Three days she wrestled with these thoughts as they pressed ever farther east in the wood. Sometimes, they would find rivers or streams, and Loren would guide them through the water for miles in case anyone were still on their trail. But at last, that wary practice seemed less important, and they would simply cross. Soon, the land sloped down again, and when the trees thinned they could see a wide bend in the Melnar many leagues ahead.