Plague of Shadows Page 7

  Elyana fought against her fear before it rose into true panic. She knew that if she fell to the thing, she would rise again as a wight herself.

  She retreated, aware now of a third figure, this one, too, with burning eyes. How many had the Galtans sent after them?

  Elyana's final arrow tore into the neck of the nobleman wight. She retreated, breath escaping her mouth in a thin stream of vapor. The corpse stalked after.

  "Lights!" Arcil cried behind her, the long-arranged warning for one of his spells.

  Elyana narrowed her eyes so she would not be blinded by the dazzling explosion that spread across the area before her. Suddenly the three things moved in the light of day. They were dead nobles: one fat and headless; another nimble and coated, with long straggling hair and two arrows protruding from his body; the third a beautiful woman in a brown dress with petticoats and ruffles, creeping on bare feet.

  Elyana heard Arcil curse, realizing too late that his spell—prepared for use against shadow wizards and their minions—had been pointless on the undead.

  Edak shouted a battle cry. There was no sign of Edak himself, but the wight facing Elyana flinched as some unseen force slashed through his coat, cutting a long, clean line so that the upper and lower halves of one side of the fabric flapped independently. The dead flesh leaked black fluid, darkening its garments. Lanky Edak, armorless, long hair wild about him, appeared suddenly and stepped quickly backward, vapor trailing from his open mouth.

  Just as suddenly, he vanished again as Arcil threw another spell over the warrior, a recent trick the two had worked on. Elyana wasn't altogether certain of its utility against the undead or creatures of magic, which might well use senses other than vision to perceive them.

  Elyana tossed down her bow. Her elven blade came clear in a flash of steel. She advanced against the wight, discovering a problem with Arcil's spell—if Edak could not be seen, how could she be sure he was out of range? She solved the problem by charging against the headless body.

  A burst of music rolled then out of the night, and Elyana knew Vallyn was slinging a spell with his lute strings. Stelan too was there, shouting for the glory of Abadar as his long blade slashed deep into the dead woman's flesh. He threw up his shield almost too late to block the woman's grab for his throat.

  Elyana came in low against her opponent. Her first strike sliced half through one of the thick stocking-clad calves.

  The wight was fast. Its hand smashed the side of her head and sent her reeling, chattering from the deathly chill of its presence, a cold so intense it made the wind off the mountain seem balmy. She shook her head to clear her vision as the thing came at her with outstretched arms.

  Arcil, lingering outside the range of the wights, saw Elyana stagger and felt an entirely different kind of fear. He pulled free the fire wand they'd found in the River Kingdom ruins. He'd hoarded its final charges, but with Elyana in danger he spared no thought to that. One word later a lancing spear of fire streamed from the red mahogany shaft. It struck the wight along one wide shoulder and set it ablaze.

  The corpse slapped its other hand against the flame. Elyana dropped low and swung again, cutting the thing's leg off. She rolled free as it collapsed.

  "Arcil!"

  Edak's voice; the warrior sounded panicked. Arcil whirled and pointed the wand at the snarling wight that stood twenty paces off, hands outstretched. He only realized his error when the jet of flame blasted into something in front of the wight, outlining a human shape in flame.

  Edak. The warrior screamed in pain and surprise, becoming suddenly visible as he flailed at the wight which continued to attack him, fire or no.

  Arcil knew no spells to stifle the flames. He could only stand and watch, feeling a mounting sense of horror.

  Elyana raced to Edak's aid. The sleeves of the wight were ablaze, the skin on its hands smoking as they wrapped about Edak's throat.

  Two swift strikes separated the corpse's head from its body, but the hands kept on their choking even as flame engulfed Edak. Elyana shouted in frustration and cut through first one wight arm, then the other. One dropped away, the other still clinging to poor Edak, who sank limply.

  Stelan charged into the dying wight, slashing the thing near in half before kicking the flaming body away.

  Arcil, still stunned, walked up slowly, staying clear of Elyana's frantic effort to roll the warrior on the frost-covered grass. Vallyn had come running up with a blanket. Arcil tried not to watch too closely—was that black stuff Edak's skin?—as the others set to smothering the fire. The smell was horrible, like burned and dirty pig meat. Elyana shouted at Vallyn to begin a healing spell as she patted, and the young bard complied with a song that sounded like a merry jig. It was completely incongruous to the frantic, pained expressions on Elyana and Vallyn's faces. Stelan stood by, his breath rising in quick gasps, his expression bleak.

  The two teenaged Galtans wandered up, blankets clasped tightly about them. They watched with wide eyes.

  Elyana finally tore the blanket from the smoldering figure and laid her hands upon him.

  The whistle of the wind that followed after Vallyn stopped playing seemed absurdly loud. The bard stepped back beside Arcil and the wizard tensed. As he'd expected, Vallyn could only hold back his comment for a short while. "Nicely done. I thought wizards were supposed to be smart."

  "I've one charge left," Arcil snapped.

  "Silence," Stelan cautioned. "Vallyn, go scout the perimeter. See if there's more out there."

  "Shouldn't Elyana—" Vallyn started to object.

  "Elyana's busy," Stelan countered. "Go."

  The bard jogged off, the neck of his lute bumping against his shoulder blade.

  Elyana was shaking her head. She leaned back. Arcil risked a step closer and saw the whites of Edak's eyes staring blankly up from his blackened face.

  "Can't you do anything?" Arcil was displeased by the high, quavering note in his voice. "Or Vallyn?"

  "There's nothing left to do," Elyana said. "He's dead."

  "But the fire ...I didn't think the wand was that powerful. Maybe it was the wight ..."

  "It may have been," Stelan said softly. "We know you did not mean to harm him."

  Arcil fumed at the implied rebuke. "Isn't there any—can't you try again? Sometimes your spells work better than others."

  But Elyana was rising, and her gaze was bleak. Arcil looked away, ashamed and angry.

  "We must bury him," Elyana said. "At least he won't rise again as a wight."

  Stelan clasped Arcil's shoulder and squeezed, gently. "I know this must be hard. You were closest to him."

  Arcil jerked his shoulder away. He wanted to tell Stelan to shut up, but no sound would come from his mouth. His throat was dry.

  The wind blew down chill from the mountains and Arcil shivered.

  Chapter Six

  Equal Shares

  The night was cold. Sitting on watch with her traveling companions asleep under the shade of the old oak dredged up the inevitable memories of past exploits. Elyana didn't mean to imagine that Renar, sleeping on his side, head pillowed on his saddle, was Stelan, but the image came unbidden. And if he were Stelan on her right, then Arcil would lie on her left ...but there was Drelm, who presented an altogether different picture from the wizard.

  It was too easy to imagine Arcil there beside her on one of their nighttime chats, where his basic decency, so often shielded from the others, had occasionally shown strong and clean. Had it always been an act to gain her affection, or had there once been something more?

  A person could drive herself crazy with thoughts like that.

  They'd ridden for only two hours before stopping to rest just off the road. Elyana let the wizard and the boy sleep, trading off with Drelm after she herself had lain still for two hours. She had never needed to sleep
as long as most folk, though she'd learned after time among the elves that this was a personal quirk rather than an innate difference between elves and humans.

  She spent most of her watch thinking about her mission and wondering whether it was folly to have brought Renar. She did not believe she could have dissuaded him, and Drelm would not have approved of restraining the young man physically. She really had no choice other than to guard Renar well, for both his sake and his father's.

  She shook her head. Humans burned through their lives so swiftly. How many years did Stelan have left? Did she have any business leading these few forward to save him? It would likely be their deaths.

  If human days were few, though, didn't it mean that each was precious, and that there was that much more reason to fight to preserve them? And it was Stelan for whom they rode—gentle, far-seeing Stelan, who had loved her. Whom she loved still.

  It was folly to care so much for creatures with such fleeting lives, but she knew no other way.

  She roused them at dawn and they muttered through their meal of hard rolls and sausages cooked a little too thoroughly. Elyana had never learned to appreciate most human preferences in food preparation, and inevitably over- or underprepared meals for them. She had blackened the sausages in her effort to get that crispiness Vallyn and Stelan had always claimed to prefer.

  Everyone was sluggish that morning, even the horses. Elyana rode one of the spare mounts so that Persaily could walk at ease with the pack animals.

  The skies were overcast as they rode north on the old road. Wildlife was scarce, although in the afternoon they spotted a herd of elk, a buck standing sentinel while the rest of the animals grazed.

  As the sun began its afternoon drop toward the horizon they encountered a single cart, driven by a merchant heading southward. With him were a handful of children of varying ages, all stamped with the fellow's pug nose. Elyana asked him for news of the village of Tregan, and how it fared.

  He was perfectly at ease speaking with her. Many in this region of Taldor had heard of the elf lady who raised horses for Baron Stelan, and knew a half-orc was high in the baron's service. While he answered Elyana's questions, his eyes strayed over to Drelm, and she saw the merchant noting the well-maintained tabard worn over the captain's spotless armor.

  The merchant did not, however, lower his reins. His children shifted on piled crates and stared keenly at her and the captain.

  The fellow told them that Tregan still prospered, and that the Hornet's Nest tavern still offered the best food and music within two days of the border.

  After they left the merchant, they rode on for two more hours. It wasn't until they stopped for supper that Renar, chewing on sausages he'd insisted on cooking himself, got around to asking what the rest of them were wondering.

  "What's our plan, and how long will it take? Aren't we headed the wrong way?"

  "I did expect us to be heading due west," Kellius agreed. "But I'm sure you've a reason."

  Elyana nodded once in confirmation. "We make first for the village of Tregan, in the woods just east of the border. I've an old friend there. An old friend of your father's," she added for Renar's benefit.

  "A friend like the wizard?" Kellius asked. There was a small patch along the left side of his chin that he'd missed shaving this morning. Elyana tried not to stare. Arcil had been incapable of that kind of oversight. He might accidentally kill a friend, but his appearance was always immaculate.

  "His name's Vallyn," Elyana answered. "He's a good man to have in tight places. He rode with Stelan and Arcil and myself. It's only half a day out of our way, and we'll be better for it."

  "He's a warrior, then?" Drelm asked.

  "He's decent with a blade. But he's better with traps and puzzles. We're likely to face a fair share of those."

  "Isn't he going to be, well ..." Renar hesitated. "...old?"

  "Everyone's older than you, Renar," Elyana countered. She meant to sound playful, but though Drelm laughed and Kellius smiled, the boy's cheeks flushed.

  Elyana was surprised. And folk said that elves were thin-skinned. She continued as if she had not noticed. "He should be in his early forties now, which might mean older than the hills or well preserved, depending on his luck and how he's taken care of himself."

  Renar nodded minutely but asked nothing else.

  "What of Arcil?" Kellius asked. "Should we be worried about him?"

  "Yes," Elyana replied. "He'll have guessed by now what I'm doing." Likely he was hating himself for not having foreseen this ...unless having her seek the crown had been his intention all along.

  Drelm interrupted her musings with another question. "Will he attack?"

  "Arcil's very clever. If you wanted something that was very dangerous to get, and someone you respected very much was after it, would you attack them?"

  Drelm's brow furrowed. "I would attack them with care," he said, "analyzing their strengths and weaknesses."

  "Possibly." She tried not to let her disappointment show. "Or you might wait until that person had found the thing." She watched the half-orc, seeing if he could reason out the rest.

  The captain's face cleared. "He'll let us do the hard part before springing an ambush."

  "Provided we survive to get the thing," Kellius added.

  The others all stared at the wizard, and he shrugged, offering a thin smile.

  "Abadar shall weigh us," Drelm said, his voice taking on a pedantic quality, "and judge us well, even should we fail, so long as we keep to his path."

  Renar bowed his head. "Praise Abadar."

  Elyana said nothing. The worship of Abadar, as with many practices and customs observed by humans, evoked in her only amused disinterest. To her, it was enough to revere the natural world, which seemed miraculous enough all on its own.

  After lunch she switched her saddle to Persaily, who was excited by the journey and—as Elyana learned, for she understood the language of her horses—somewhat concerned that when they came to the big rocks that were mountains, there would be no grass to eat. Elyana assured her that they would pack food for both men and horses.

  That night they spent at a humble roadside inn outlying a small but welcoming farming community. Elyana pushed them hard the next day, insisting on only one meal break. Even so, they reached Tregan before nightfall only by riding through the twilight.

  A mile south of the village, they passed a battered old wall stretching into the darkness on either side of the road. Some sections stood untouched, but others were marred with large gaps. Time had worn the stone.

  "Has Tregan been attacked?" Renar whispered.

  "They've looted the wall for building material," Elyana answered.

  "That's criminal," Renar said indignantly. Then he heard the music on the air. "It's kind of late for music, isn't it?" he asked. It was the middle of the week, after all. "Is tonight a Tregan holiday or something?"

  "There are a lot of Galtan refugees here," Elyana told him over her shoulder. Renar had little to compare any settlement to but his own village and Yanmass, the great caravan city, which he had visited twice. Elyana kept her amusement at the sight of his wide eyes to herself.

  Tall wooden buildings flanked the wide central street. Folk on second-story balconies looked down upon them with hard eyes. Yet music and light flowed out from the open doors and windows of the street's dozen inns and taverns, accompanied by the laughter of both men and women.

  The place had grown since Elyana's last visit. The buildings were taller. Many were new, and the street was half again as long. Here, at least, the miserable Galtan government's policies had led to a kind of prosperity, for it had driven these folk from Galtan lands to thrive in Tregan.

  She scanned the signs swinging before the shops and taverns, most of which were decorated with symbols rather than words. Halfway along t
he block she saw the dim shape of a gold hornet's hive, sketched colorfully onto a hanging placard with an artistic flair that brought a smile to her lips. Vallyn himself had painted that sign, she was certain.

  She made arrangements for the overnight care of the horses at stables beside the inn, then walked for the tavern entrance, unstrung bow poking up over her shoulder, sword swinging at her slim hip. Drelm was on her right hand. Renar and the mage followed. Her eyes had no trouble adjusting, but she remembered to stop and let her human companions grow used to the change in lighting.

  "Why aren't all these people in bed?" Renar sounded confused and a little scandalized.

  Some two dozen men and women were up and dancing in twin lines, facing each other. The Galtan rondel required both shaking of leg and lifting of arm. A trio of musicians against the back wall wound a merry tune on a pair of lutes and a reed flute.

  Most of the tables were pushed to the left wall. Behind the counter on the right stood a smiling, balding man nodding in time to the music. A handful of oldsters leaned against the counter he manned, their backs to the bartender, likewise watching the dancers, mugs to hand. Some even older than those at the bar were dancing in the long lines.

  The bartender spotted the newcomers and waited as they approached. Elyana wondered what he made of them: a half-orc in livery, a young nobleman, a rangy mage who looked more like a farmer in his rumpled and rustic clothes, and an elf in her brown traveler's garb. It did not take long before all the old men leaning against the bar were staring. So were a few of the dancers.

  All too soon the song ended, but another began as the notes of the first one died. One of the lutenists left his instrument with the other musicians and worked his way through the dancers.