The Immortals of Myrdwyer (6 page)

“
Myrdwyer
.” She spoke the word with perfect Uxidin inflection.

“Meer—dwai—ur?”

“The lost land of the Uxidin, young man. An old forest in which secrets may be learned from the voices that have gone silent.”

“What does that have to do with the cry for help that you spoke of?”

“Everything.” Taking the oak cane in hand, she stood. “Now, off with you. I’ve told you all that you need to know.”

He shot up from his chair. “You’ve told me nothing.”

Stopping at the curtain, she looked over her shoulder at him. “It’ll have to be enough, for it’s all I know.” She paused as if trying to make a decision. “It’s been a number of years since anyone’s come asking about the Uxidin or that book, young man. Be careful in the ruins.”

He knew she was lying about not knowing more, but he saw nothing to be gained by pushing her. Joining his friends near the gate outside—they had apparently tired of waiting in the shop—he said, “We must head north to the village of Laslo, then west to a place called Myrdwyer.”

“What? Where?” Marac asked.

“A lost settlement of the Uxidin.”

Valyrie blinked rapidly. “A lost one? As in, no longer populated?”

At least she will speak to me.
“That’s what the old woman—Callista—said.” Laedron started toward the inn.

“But that’s crazy,” Brice said, catching up to him. “What’s the point of going somewhere with questions if there’ll be no one to answer them?”

“Your guess is as good as mine, but it’s the only lead we have. I must know what’s happening to me.” He sighed. “If she thinks I have a chance of learning more in the ruins, then to the ruins I must go.”

* * *

Laedron and the others picked seats around a small table situated in the corner of the inn’s common room. Each ordered a meal from the serving woman.

Once they had received their food, Laedron asked, “Any thoughts as to when we should leave?”

Marac glanced at the nearby window. “Only a few hours of daylight left, and we still need to gather supplies for the journey. First light in the morning?”

Although Laedron would have preferred to leave sooner, he couldn’t argue with the fact that they would need provisions. “Good. The morning, then.”

Brice nodded, then turned to Valyrie. “You know anything about this area?”

“A little,” she said. “What is it that you’d like to know?”

“How to get to… where are we going, Lae? Myr…”

“Myrdwyer.”

Valyrie shook her head. “I’ve never heard of such a place. It’s not on any of the maps I’ve seen.”

“We’ll ask the innkeeper,” Laedron said. “Marac, you and Brice should see about some horses.” He several gold coins across the table while being careful to conceal them with his hand.

After Marac and Brice had gone, Laedron and Valyrie walked over to the innkeeper’s counter, and Laedron handed a silver coin to the man. “It appears that we’ll be staying one more night.”

“Fine,” the man said, pocketing the coin.

“Might I ask a few questions?” Laedron asked.

The innkeeper nodded.

“Are the roads dangerous in these parts?”

The man stopped wiping the counter and leaned closer to Laedron. “Aye, a bit. Some of my guests refuse to take to the roads, what with the war, the army heading east, and everything else. Highwaymen, young man. Running rampant.”

“Why is the army heading east?” Valyrie asked.

“I hear tales,” he said. “Lots of stories about the dead walking out from the swamps.”

The Almatheren Swamp? Yes… I remember hearing about that.
“Have you ever seen one of these… walking dead men?”

The innkeeper paused. “Aye.”

“Well?”

“It isn’t pleasant. The meat hanging off of them, the dead stare of their eyes. Murderous beasts. Best cut off the head quick lest they take yours.”

“They come after the living? Why?”

“Hard to say. If I was one of them, I’d say it was an insatiable envy, a want to be alive again, and a hatred for those who have what I did not. A curse of the Necromancers who’ve made them, I’d say, or a command to do whatever evil they can before being returned to Syril by the edge of a blade. Their souls are eternally tormented in the dark rituals of the evil mages, or so it seems.” He paused when Laedron’s breathing hastened. “You needn’t worry about that, though; the army’s off to send them back to the hells. You should keep your concern on the roads that have gone unchecked.”

“No one’s left to guard the routes?”

“They’ve little choice, for the undead are numerous and do not negotiate. The army’s always patrolled the roads, and with the soldiers gone, the bandits have come out of the woodwork. Open season on traders and couriers, or anyone braving the highways.”

“When would be the best time to travel?”

“During the day. Harder for them to sneak up on you that way. Of course, some might still attack; a bandit’s motivation lies in two places—his stomach and his purse—and the emptiness of either guides his decision-making.”

“Thank you for your help.”

“Think nothing of it. As a purveyor of fine liquors and not-so-fine lodgings, I’m obliged to help my customers. It’s part of my job, really. If a little information might help them, well… a client who stays alive might come back and be a client again.”

Laedron returned to the table. “Looks like we’ll have to keep a sharp eye while on the road.”

“He spoke of bandits. That doesn’t worry you?” Valyrie asked.

“Shouldn’t be any more trouble than we’ve already faced. Robbers tend to be disorganized, and not many are a match for a sorcerer in the company of knights.”

“Suppose they’re well-organized and have a sorcerer of their own?”

“Don’t worry, Val. We’ll prepare for any possibility.” Laedron turned to the door when it opened and saw Marac and Brice returning. “And, Val, about last night—”

“Think nothing of it. The mission, remember? Nothing is more important than that,” she replied, a certain nonchalance about her.
She doesn’t mean that. If she’s trying to make me feel guilty, she’s doing a damned good job of it.

Holding up a scrap of paper, Marac grinned. “Four geldings, and they’ve given us a deal since few are seeking horses for travel these days.”

“Good. We depart at first light,” Laedron said, reading over the receipt when Marac passed it to him.

* * *

Night fell across the city, the white walls of the stone towers darkening with the setting sun, and Laedron retired to the room with Marac and Brice. He wanted to say something before Valyrie closed the door to her room, but he didn’t.
Things are so delicate between us that I’d rather give her space. No, I’d like to be in her arms this last night, but I should have thought about that before I said what I did. I’ve been such an idiot.

“She’ll be all right in the end, Lae,” Marac said, plopping onto the bed, his tone making him seem almost sympathetic to Laedron’s plight. “You’d better get some sleep. We have a long way to go in a short time.”

Nodding, Laedron sat in the corner chair, hung his shirt over the back of it, grabbed a bed sheet, and closed his eyes, trying to force the remorse of his many mistakes and failures from his mind.
I couldn’t help Ismerelda. I was barely a match for Gustav, and Andolis nearly killed me. I’ve driven the only woman I’ve ever loved away, and only the Creator knows if she’ll ever forgive me for that. Damned spells! Damned magic! If only I could sleep away these thoughts.
He shifted his weight to get comfortable and quickly realized that if being a wizard meant never sleeping again, he wanted no part of it. He’d drive himself insane long before the usefulness of his power became apparent.

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The Highways of Lasoron

L
aedron pulled the sheet over his bare chest, his skin prickled by the cool air. Then, his eyes shot open at the drowsy feeling.
Have I slept?
The inky darkness of night had dominated the landscape, and the last thing he remembered was staring out the window and watching the nightlife of Nessadene.
Can it be so? Is the spell losing its power over me? Am I cured, or shall I die by its fading?

Not wanting to disturb Marac and Brice, he rested his head on the pillow. For a moment, he wondered where the pillow had come from, but the thought was fleeting. The night sky like a weight on his eyelids, Laedron once again fell asleep.

* * *

“Good morning,” Marac said. “Sleep well?”

Laedron shifted in the chair, his back strained from the position in which he’d slept. “Surprisingly I did.”

“Maybe it’s a good thing.”

“I hope so.” He scooted to the edge of the chair and put on his shirt. “If it’s not, it’s a very bad thing.”

“No need to worry about it until we know otherwise.” Marac strapped his belt about his waist.

Brice came through the door, a towel wrapped around him. “They’ve got hot water for the bath here. Down the hall, opposite the stairs.”

Laedron nodded, put his feet on the floor, then staggered through the hall, ending up at the tub. Leaning against the lip, he struggled to keep his balance; it was as if all of the energy had been leeched from his body.
Looks like the sleeplessness has finally caught up with me
.
Oh, I can’t get atop a horse and go slogging across the countryside in this condition. Perhaps I can convince them to stay here one more night. No, I’ll have to get through it. Maybe the bath will help.