The Immortals of Myrdwyer (9 page)

“I don’t care if they know we have a sorcerer. I don’t care if they think Azura herself has come down from on high.” Marac gritted his teeth. “Do it. It’s better than setting fire to half of Lasoron.”

Standing up halfway to see over his shield, Laedron pointed the rod toward the woods and chanted a spell of wintertime. Marac and Brice crowded in front of him, doing their best to shield him from the oncoming barrage. From the large ruby, silver and blue light erupted, draping the trees and the ground all around them with ice. Even though he could see little through the canopy, he noticed the sky changing from a vibrant blue to a somber gray.
Snow clouds
, he mused, waving the scepter from side to side.

Fewer arrows came their way the longer Laedron held the effect, and after a while, the snow flurries were the only things flying around. He strengthened the blizzard with his finishing words, then took hold of his friends by the shoulders. “Best get moving now. It will last a while yet, but not forever.”

Barely on his horse, Laedron yanked the reins to the right and took off in the direction he’d sent Valyrie. He drove the horse onward until its hooves flung dirt and pine straw, the cold air replaced by the hot summer haze beyond his spell’s reach. When he cleared the trees, he felt the sting from the branches that had struck him in the face and the wetness of the blood on his skin.
Funny. I hadn’t noticed them hit me on the ride here.
His thoughts were cut short when he spotted her horse.

Riding over, Laedron first realized that Valyrie was nowhere to be found. The cliff was the second thing he noticed. He climbed down from his horse and ran to the ledge. If it weren’t for his eagerness to find her, Laedron could have spent hours staring at the breathtaking landscape, the rolling hills in the valley and the lush green treetops extending to the horizon.

“Val!” His voice echoed into the distance. “Valyrie!”

Marac and Brice emerged from the woods, and Brice stopped just short of the drop, his horse obviously riled at being so near the cliff.

“Help me find her.” Laedron held his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “Val. Where is she?”

“I hear something… over here,” Marac said, scurrying to the ledge and falling to his knees. “Look, down there.”

Laedron ran to the edge, then dropped next to Marac. Never before had Laedron seen the kind of fear that Valyrie had in her eyes. Clinging to some exposed roots, she didn’t make a sound, as if even a muffled scream might cause the roots to give up their hold.

“We’re going to get you up. Just hold on.” He pulled out his scepter and chanted a levitation spell.

Before he could finish the incantation, he heard a snap. With a shriek, she fell.

Laedron’s instincts took over. Stepping off the ledge, he heard Marac shout, “Lae, no!”

His clothes flapping in the breeze, Laedron forced the incantation past his lips.
The fear will have to wait. I must save her. I must.
He stretched out his hand, the tops of the pines below fast approaching.
Closer. Only a little closer. Reach, dammit!

Once their hands touched, Valyrie pulled at him, then wrapped her arms around his chest and climbed him in a frenzy.

“I can’t—” He struggled to get his mouth free, to finish the spell and save her, but her arm coiled around his head and neck like a snake constricting on its prey.

He pried at her arms with his free hand. “Va—” He knew that they must be close to the ground, but he couldn’t see. He tried to speak again. The words came out like a muffled scream. Peeling her arms over his head like a wet shirt, he broke loose long enough to shout the last word a few feet from the ground, slowing their descent.

Landing, he took a deep breath, but his knees buckled. He sat, then he lay on his back and tried to calm his nerves. Although he couldn’t see their faces, he imagined the looks Marac and Brice were giving one another at the top of the cliff. He turned his head to see Valyrie, her breathing panicked and her hair frizzled. “All right now?”

“All right?” She clenched one hand into a fist while snatching briars from her hair with the other. “We could’ve been killed.”

“But we weren’t.”

“I can’t catch my breath!” Grabbing her chest, she collapsed to the ground, using one arm to keep herself from falling flat.

He crawled over to her. “Just breathe. Take it slow.”

“Do you do this sort of thing often?”

“What, jumping off a cliff to save someone? No, not really, but in your case, I decided to make an exception.”

She gazed into his eyes. The look could have been anything—relief, happiness, or something else—but he was relieved that it was something other than anger and resentment.
At the very least, it got her to relax.

“Ready to go back up?” he asked.

She nodded.

Waving the scepter in a circle around them, he wrapped his arm around Valyrie and cast his spell. His feet lifted off the ground. Ascending, he stared at the majestic beauty of the valley, the river and its rapids flowing south, and the deer running between the trees. He reached the top and saw Marac with a scornful glare on his face.
Oh, dear. I’m going to hear it now. Perhaps I should’ve stayed down there a while longer.

“The next time you decide to jump off a cliff,” Marac said, his arms folded, “I’d appreciate a little warning.”

“Sorry.” Laedron released Valyrie once they had landed. “It’s what sorcerers—”

“Don’t give me that ‘it’s what sorcerers do’ bit. You scared the hells out of me with that stunt.”

Brice stepped between them. “All things considered, he
did
save her from the fall.”

“Oh, don’t you start now.”

Laedron put his arms around both of them, herding them away from the edge. “Friends, don’t let this drive a wedge between us. Marac, I’m sorry, but I had little time to explain.”

Marac nodded forcefully. “I just don’t want to lose you again. I can’t.”

“You won’t.” Laedron smiled, then gestured at the horses. “Shall we?”

“Yes, but we’re not going back to that damned road.” Taking hold of the reins, Marac climbed onto his horse. “If the trees grow away from this cliff the whole way, we’d do better to follow it to the village.”

“Agreed.” Laedron helped Valyrie onto her horse, then mounted his. “And hopefully no more bandits.”

With the open ground between the cliff and the woods, Marac quickened his pace at the lead. The rapid beating of hooves and the valley’s rim took them all the way to the end of the depression, and in the distance, Laedron spotted palisade walls.
Laslo. It must be.

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Chapter Seven →

The Middle of Nowhere

A
pproaching the village, Laedron kept a sharp eye on his surroundings. The wooden spikes, the high walls, and the barricades, all of it was meant to bar entry to outsiders and all fashioned from the fresh-cut pines.
Is that what I think it is?
he thought, staring at the black substance coating the tips of the spears.
Old blood, the blood of dozens of battles. Who would charge against layers of spikes? Surely brigands are not that foolish.
The village seemed like an enclave of civilization placed exactly in the middle of nowhere.

When he reached the front, the gates were shut, and a man stood atop the wall, a bow in his left hand and an arrow nocked in his right. His tunic—half green and half white—was emblazoned with a black griffin.
A soldier of Lasoron. Perhaps too far to call to the Almatheren?

“You don’t look like bandits,” the soldier said. “What business have you in Laslo?”

Laedron pulled on his reins, bringing his horse to a halt beneath the wall. “We wish to stay for a night. Nothing more.”

“And what will you do after that?”

“Move on. To the west,” Laedron said, imagining the cross expression the guard was probably giving him behind the plated helm.

“The road doesn’t lead west, boy. You plan to travel through open country to Kingsport or even as far as Paladum?”

“Not so far as that, no.”

“I suppose I should keep this gate closed to you, then.” The guard returned the arrow to his quiver. “Laslo has no need of madmen seeking to wander the wilderness. Why not get an early start and leave now?”

“Please, let us in, for the sun’s low in the sky. We have the coin to pay for all that we’ll need.” Laedron reached into his pocket and held up a sovereign.

The guard tapped the front of his helmet with one finger. “New coin? Could be helpful…”

“We won’t be any trouble. I swear it,” Laedron said.

“Very well, young man.” The soldier turned a crank, and the gate opened. “Tie your horses with the rest and meet me inside.”

Laedron urged his horse through the opening, and once his friends had passed the threshold, the guardsman closed the gate, then climbed down a ragged wooden ladder.

“I’m Sir Paldren, protector of this city.” The man extended his hand to Laedron once he had dismounted.

“Laedron Telpist of Sorbia.”

“Sorbia? You’re a long way off from home, aren’t you?”

“Indeed.”

“What would a Sorbian want in the deep woods of Lasoron?” Paldren removed his helmet, revealing a salt-and-pepper beard and green eyes.