Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm (6 page)

Loren wanted to ensure their safety, but had no time. Jordel was still backed into the corner, his blade dancing to keep Derrick and the other Mystics at bay. Loren picked up the kettle again and cracked the closest one over the head. Derrick and his companion turned in surprise — but when he saw what Loren had done, Derrick whirled on the last Mystic in an instant and plunged his sword into the woman’s chest, through her cloak and mail.
 

The Mystic’s surprise left in a death gasp, eyes staring wide and fearful into Derrick’s. Then she fell dead.

They all froze in shock — except Derrick, who drew his blade from the corpse with a harsh tug. He turned to Jordel, who raised his weapon again — but Derrick wiped his sword clean on the fallen woman’s cloak and returned it to his scabbard.

“Forgive me,” said Derrick quickly. “I had no choice. And this one was a poison within our ranks — the order will not miss her. I could not help you openly before, but now there will be no witnesses.”

Jordel looked at Derrick in wrath, and did not lower his weapon. “You brought violence upon a sister of the order, Derrick. Tis not your place to judge who is fit to wear the red cloak.”

“They would not have stopped until you lay dead,” said Derrick. “And so you must go, quickly, for there are more of us in Strapa. I am not in command — I was only sent to earn your trust, for our masters knew of our past.”
 

All was silent, and for a moment Loren feared Jordel might cut Derrick down. But at last he sheathed his sword, though his grim look did not leave. “Very well. You say there are others. Where are they?”

“Away from here, outside the village, yet near enough to strike. Even now they may approach. Gain your horses and flee Strapa before they find you.”

Jordel said, “Things will go ill when you are found alone. What will you do?”

Derrick looked at his feet, ashamed. “I thought I might ask a boon of you in that regard, though I have done nothing to earn your favor. I do not wish for exile. I am a Mystic true, though you may doubt it. But they cannot find you all gone and me unharmed.”

Jordel’s face softened, and he nodded. “I understand.” Then he drew his weapon and lifted it high.

“No!” cried Loren. But Jordel struck before she could interfere. His pommel crashed hard into Derrick’s head, and the man collapsed to the ground.

“He is not harmed — not as sorely as some of the others. This way it will seem he was overcome trying to prevent our escape.”

“You believe his tale, then?” said Gem. “It seems a fine enough thing to say after he already lost the fight. But I do not put much faith in the words of one who slew his own companion.”

“I thought something was amiss before then,” said Jordel. “For Derrick is an excellent swordsman, yet he fought poorly to keep the others from striking me. In any case it is done, and we should heed his words. Out the door. Quickly!”

Loren led the way, opened the door, and froze on the threshold.
 

Before her stood another five red cloaks, all with arrows drawn. She barely had time to fling the door shut before five sharp thuds sounded against it.

“There are more outside,” she said. “Armed with bow and arrow. We are trapped.”

“Things are not as dire as all that,” said a voice.

They looked to the home’s rear window. There stood Albern, the bowyer, his face freshly shaven, a spark of grim humor in his eye.
 

“A pretty sight you all make,” said Albern. “Though I imagine I might look worse after a fight such as that.”

“You were watching?” said Loren.

“I keep an eye on those who interest me. But you can provide no amusement if you perish. Come, if you wish my help to escape. Otherwise try the front door again, and see if you can persuade your foes to show mercy.”

Loren met Jordel’s look, but they needed only a moment. They had no choice. Together they lifted Gem through the window, followed by Annis, with Albern lowering them gently on the other side. Then they climbed through themselves, leaving the half-dozen Mystics behind.

seven

THE WOODS LOOMED A FEW paces from the house, and Albern led them there in a low running crouch. Without thinking Loren muffled her footsteps, running toe first as she followed. A useless gesture — for Gem still crashed along, loud as ever. Once within the safety of the trees, Albern stopped to duck behind a wide trunk. Loren followed, and together they surveyed the house. The Mystics had only just begun to circle around, approaching it from a dozen paces away, apparently unaware that their quarry had escaped.

“They will notice our absence soon enough,” said Albern. “Fortunately, will be well quit of this place before then.”
 

And he set off again, leading them deeper into the woods.

They reached a small clearing before two minutes had passed. There, to Loren’s great surprise, stood their horses — along with another pair, a sprightly bay and a swaybacked plow horse.

“The bay is mine,” said Albern. “The other was for supplies — though I suppose the children may ride it, if they can.”

“What supplies?” said Loren.

“He means to take us into the mountains.” Jordel fixed Albern with a keen glare, not entirely happy. “Was this your plan, then, bowyer? To take advantage of us in a moment of peril? I do not care for schemers.”

Albern shrugged. “I told you yesterday — I rarely see such interesting travelers. When I am curious, I look after my interest. I did not have to look after you long before your pursuers closed in. I hazarded a guess that you might be more in need of a guide than you allowed.”

The Mystic still looked displeased, but Loren spoke before he could. “Jordel, you know we cannot take the Westerly Road now. They will follow us upon it, and our horses are overburdened already. We must travel the mountain pass.”

“Very well,” said Jordel. “We will take your services, bowyer. Though you will receive a fair price for your guidance, and not a penny more, no matter how urgent our need.”

“I would ask for nothing greater. I long for the diversion more than the coin. Though distraction does not fill the coffers, as they say. Two gold weights now, and three more when we reach Northwood at the northern end of the Greatrocks.”

Jordel raised his eyebrows. “Five gold weights is a great bargain.”

“I told you I wished to ride again,” said Albern with a grin.

“I will pay you three now, and five in Northwood,” said Jordel. “But if I wish to take a different path than you say, we shall take it. And you must ask no questions about our journey, or our business.”

“Done and done. Though remind me never to let you bargain on my behalf, for I fear I might up a pauper. Come. Let us be off.”

Jordel handed him three gold weights, then mounted while Loren helped Gem and Annis to the back of the plowhorse. Midnight greeted her with a nicker as she swung atop the mare’s back, black cloak billowing behind her.
 

Albern made to lead the horses north, but Jordel stopped him.

“We have … a burden. West of the town, hidden in the forests. We must retrieve it before we go.”

“It must be a valuable cargo indeed, for you to fetch it while so hotly pursued.”

“You mean to go back for Xain?” said Annis, half angry, half afraid. “How do you think we can travel the mountain pass while dragging him behind us?”

Albern’s eyebrows drew together. He looked from the children to Jordel.
 

The Mystic fixed him with a grim smile. “Do you still wish so badly to guide us, bowyer? You might have taken more care when looking into your charges.”

Albern shrugged. “Tis your business, and I have agreed to venture no queries. Let us fetch this man.”

“But our enemies are almost upon us,” said Annis, clearly afraid. “They may catch us even as we try to reach Xain.”

“I hear your protests — and the unspoken thoughts behind them, Annis,” said Jordel with a sigh. “If you hate the idea of riding with Xain so badly, I have no hold upon you. You may leave if you wish. But I will not abandon him to die in the woods.”

“Nor I,” said Loren softly, though it pained her to see the look in Annis’s eyes. “We may as well sink a dagger into his back ourselves as leave him bound without bread or water.”

Annis did not answer, but turned to hide beneath her hood. Gem put a hand on her shoulder, his other arm still wrapping her waist from behind.

Jordel turned the horses and led them south, picking their way quickly but carefully through the trees until they were well away from town. They cut west at a brisk trot until they reached the woods beside the road. There they waited, looking hard in every direction to ensure no eyes were upon them, before crossing the road at a gallop to reach the other side.

“And now we are nearly home free,” said Gem happily. “See, Annis? You worried for nothing.”

“Hist!” said Loren. “Confidence curses luck, especially when you need it most. Say not we are safe until we are in the mountains and know that no one has followed us.”

Jordel led them unerringly through the forest toward Xain’s hiding place. Loren wondered at that, for she saw no path for the Mystic to follow. He seemed intimately familiar with these woods. She thought he must have a tale, but as with so many matters concerning Jordel, she had no time to ask.

Soon they reached the clearing where the great stones were stacked in a pile. The small cave was dark, and for a moment Loren could not see Xain. Fear fluttered in her heart. Then she spotted the shape of his boot, stretching almost into the daylight, and soon saw the rest of him as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

The wizard did not look pleased to see them — nor did he look well. His face seemed even more gaunt and so awfully pale. His hair stuck out, thin and wispy. Blood ran in his eyes.

Jordel dismounted and brought the wizard forth in a hurry, pulling him to his feet after freeing his hands from the rocks. Then he tied Xain across the back of his horse as he had before.

If Albern was dismayed, he did not show it. But he surveyed Jordel’s doings with a cool and reserved eye, his mouth set in a stern line. Loren could not imagine he was pleased at this development — if nothing else, it would slow their progress through the mountains.

“I ask again: have you any regrets, bowyer?” said Jordel. “Now is your last chance to return. After this moment there is no turning back, and I will not risk our lives in the mountains with a guide who wishes he were back in his shop. You may keep the gold I have given, if you wish, for no doubt you saved us from the Mystics.”

“I will tell you again,” said Albern. “I am not in the business of asking questions. One grows weary of staying in the same place, never leaving home nor spying new sights. I think a man such as yourself might understand.”

His words were haughty, yet Loren saw Jordel relax. Still, he pressed the question. “You have seen already that we are fugitives from the Mystics — I am a member of the order myself, recently exiled. You should also know that we flee the King’s justice, though I can promise you we have done no deed too ill. Our crime is keeping this wizard from the constables, for the man’s will is not his own.”

“It is magestones, then?” said Albern. “I thought as much. He has the look. You do him a great service, though I doubt he is of the mind to thank you.”
 

Xain’s angry glare was answer enough.

Jordel hauled Xain’s head up, pulled forth a water skin, jammed it into the wizard’s mouth around the gag, and poured. Xain drank from it greedily, coughing after a moment as he took too much in. Jordel corked the waterskin, then climbed into his saddle.

“Very well, Albern of the family Telfer,” said Jordel. “We accept your service. And I thank you for your persistence.”

“And I thank you for the chance to put my feet upon the road again. Strapa is a fine place to live, yet one who has spent most his life wandering will weary of any place in time.”

He nudged his horse north, and Jordel followed. Loren shared a look with a still afraid Annis, then trotted close behind.

eight

THE WOODS WERE EMPTY AND silent. Soon they passed Strapa heading north. The forest grew ever more spare, and Loren was little more than nerves, imagining the Mystics hunting them through the trees. But they came upon a road in no time, not wide but well-worn, running northwest through the trees toward the Greatrocks.

“This is the beginning of the mountain pass,” said Albern. “It rises steeply up into the foothills, twisting and turning as it finds its way into the mountains proper, then dips into the wide river valley before climbing once more.”

“How long is the road?” said Jordel. “We are in need of haste, and already I mourn for the speed of Westerly Road.”

“Normally less than two months,” said Albern offhandedly. “But there are many branches in the mountain pass, and the safer paths take longer. If you wish for speed, we can ride hard and reach the town of Northwood in a month — but I cannot promise you better. Even that may not be possible.”

Jordel’s mouth soured. “A month. Far too long, yet I suppose it cannot be helped. Very well. Lead on, and if ever you must choose the faster route or the safer one, choose the faster.”

Albern had told no lie; the road began to rise almost as soon as they set hooves upon it, and soon the trees gave way to gently climbing hills. They paused atop the first then turned back long enough to look down at the lands rolling south and east. There, far below, they could see gentle wisps of smoke rising from Strapa’s morning fires. But the town was shrouded by forest, and they could see nothing of the buildings or people.

“Still no sign of our pursuers,” said Jordel. “With luck they chase us up the Westerly Road and have not guessed we might take this route instead.”

“Even if they hazard such a guess, it will not serve them,” said Albern. “I promise you: no one living knows this path, nor can travel it faster than I.”

“Yet those who chase us are quite resourceful,” said Jordel. “Do not be overconfident. There are many in my order who can surprise even me, on occasion.”

“You would know best,” Albern shrugged. “Come, then. Let us get on with it.”