Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm (12 page)

“What time did he hit you?” said Albern. “How long has he been gone?”

Loren tried to remember — then realized she did not know the time
now
. Outside the cave, a pale grey light shone through the clouds. No sun, at least not yet, but only the first grasping fingers of its rays, wrapping the tops of the eastern mountain range as it pulled itself above the horizon.

“Both moons had just set.” Loren could hear her dry throat cracking. She reached for the waterskin, and Jordel handed it to her.

“That means he has a few hours’ lead,” said Albern. “But he is not well by any stretch. I think we can easily catch him. And we had best do so, for if the satyrs find him first he will be be easy prey.”

“Let them have him, then,” said Gem, stamping a foot.

Jordel looked at Gem with a frown, but Annis spoke up as well. “Is it … is it wise to pursue him? After all, he still has his magic, and we have only swords.”

“I do not fear him.” Gem looked down at Loren, and his eyes softened. “I only think he deserves whatever he finds upon his own road, if he is so determined to take it.”

Jordel frowned and looked out of the cave. To Loren’s shock, she saw doubt in his face. Never before had she seen him waver when asked to leave Xain behind.

Loren seized his sleeve and pulled herself up. She could not sit all the way, for her head spiked with pain and she nearly fell. But she forced her eyes to stay open and locked them on Jordel’s.

“We cannot leave him. We must find the wizard before he gets himself killed.”

Jordel’s eyes widened, and he looked at Loren in wonder. Gem’s shock was nearly comical. He said, “After what he did to you, you still wish to risk all our lives for his?”

“I do. We can do nothing else.” Loren looked past Gem to Annis. “You told me that when you saw Xain hurt, it did not feel like you thought it would — that it nearly made you ill. Now you hope to cast him aside, out of sight, where you will not have to witness such suffering. But it is the same thing, Annis. Tis not nobler to let him starve than it would be to hurl him from a cliff.”

Tears welled in the girl’s eyes, and she turned away.
 

Jordel looked only at Loren. “You, too, have hinted at leaving Xain behind.”
 

She released her hold on the Mystic’s sleeve and pushed herself up further. But her head slumped forward and swam, threatening to make her vomit. She raised her knees on either side of her face, drawing several deep breaths until the feeling subsided.

“I wanted to leave him, tis true. And yes, he struck me. But can you not see that he held his hand as well? No doubt Gem thinks he meant to kill me. But if that were his intent, what stopped him? He could have taken a knife and slit all of your throats while we slept. But he showed us mercy.”
 

Loren looked up at Jordel. “Often you have spoken of giving Xain another chance, and I never understood why. But you promised there was something worth saving inside him. Do you still believe that? For if you have changed your mind, you did so only after changing mine.”

Jordel softened. He bowed his head like a man in prayer. “You humble me with your mercy, Loren of the family Nelda, for I had forgotten to show any myself. You are right. We will not abandon him. As dark as his deeds have been, still he has done much good in his days, and may do more still to balance the scales.”

“What things?” said Gem. “I have seen no such deeds.”

“You have known him only months, while I have known
of
him most of his life,” said Jordel. “When we reclaim him, I will tell you some of those stories. But now we must hasten, for even weakened he has had much time to gain a lead.”

They hurried to ready their horses. Jordel finished securing his bags then turned to Loren. “Come. I require your assistance before we venture forth.”

Loren looked at Annis and Gem, but they knew nothing more and only shrugged. She followed Jordel to the front of the cave, where he stooped to pick up a coal from the fire with his thick leather gloves. This he carried beyond the entrance, with Loren hastening to keep up. The quick pace jostled her head, and she placed a hand upon the back where the flesh was still tender. She winced.

Out of sight and earshot from the others, Jordel turned to Loren. “We may be able to track Xain on the mountain pass, for you and I both know something of woodcraft, and I suspect Albern outshines us both. Yet even he might lose the trail, for still there is rain, and much of the ground is hard and rocky. But there is something we can do to find Xain unerringly. Tis a secret of the mage hunters, long lost in history, for we have had little chance to use it. You must never speak of this to anyone, same as you would never whisper word of your dagger.”

Loren touched her hilt on instinct, and nodded. “I swear it. What must I do?”

Jordel held out a hand. “Give it to me.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Loren drew her dagger, flipped it to catch the blade, then placed it in his hand hilt first. Jordel took it with reverence, holding the weapon like a fine gem. Then he knelt, placing his piece of coal on the ground. A hand vanished into his coat pocket, and emerged with a lock of dark hair.

“Whose is that?” Even as Loren spoke, she guessed the answer.

“Xain’s. I have told you one gift of your dagger, that it is proof against his magics. This is another, and one of the weapon’s chief purposes. Though I thought my bonds would hold him, still I collected this lock in case of escape.”

Jordel placed the dagger atop the coal to heat the blade. After it had sat there for a moment, he dropped the lock atop it. The strands began to burn, and soon vanished in flame and a puff of smoke.
 

For a moment, nothing. Loren stared at the dagger and coal, ready for anything. Yet no warning could have prepared her for what she saw. The black designs worked into the dagger’s blade, that Jordel had told her were made of magestone, shifted and twisted. Like branches in the wind, they twined and snaked about, grasping, exploring each other. Then all of a sudden they found new life and stretched. North they pointed, and slightly east, directly along the mountain pass.

“That will tell us where Xain has gone. Until he is found they will not rest, always pointing toward him. Take it, Loren. You may sheathe the blade if you wish — the magic will not be affected.”

Though Loren had hesitated when handing her treasure to Jordel, now she hedged upon its retrieval. The dagger seemed alien and strange, a weapon of legend and not the simple if beautiful tool she had believed it to be when she stole it. With a fluttering heart she took it at last and slid the blade into its sheath with a whisper.

“You have a cunning task ahead of you,” said Jordel. “For as we ride you must look at the dagger often to see if we are going the right way. Yet above all, you must not let Albern spy it. I believe him to be a good man, and I trust him — yet he may have masters unknown. And it is best if even Annis and Gem do not see you looking.”

“I remember,” Loren nodded. “And they shall not know.”

Moments later Albern led them from the cave. He inspected the ground and spotted footprints trailing to north and east along the pass. The party followed.
 

fourteen

THEY RODE HARD, THOUGH SLOWER than Jordel would have liked, for still the ground was slippery and wet. And besides, Loren could not press Midnight, for the speed made her head swim and threatened to raise her gorge. Yet still they made good time, much better than the wizard could have.
 

Loren rode at the rear as was her custom, and every so often she would draw forth the dagger to inspect its designs. Always they pointed forward along the pass. For a long while, there was nowhere else to go. But soon the path dipped steeply toward the valley floor.
 

“Here things will become more difficult,” Albern said. “Though I hope the ground is soft enough after the rain to mark his passing.”
 

“I see no marks,” said Gem, annoyed.

“I would expect no more from a boy who grew up on cobblestone,” said Jordel. “Use the time to sharpen your eyes, master urchin.”

The path reached the valley at last. Albern called them to a halt and dismounted to inspect the ground. Loren drew the dagger, hiding it under her cloak. The designs twisted sharply to the left, away from the northeast path.

“That way,” said Albern, pointing north. “He abandoned the path as soon as it reached the valley floor.”

“How do you know?” Annis seemed to share Gem’s annoyance.

“Just there,” said Loren quietly, guiding Midnight up beside the plowhorse. “See how all the grass stands one way, like the fibers of a rug? Then see that dip, little more than a slight darkness where the blades bend differently from those around them? They are in the shape of a footprint, and continue off that way for some time.”

“I think you are seeing things,” growled Gem, but Annis leaned forward in her saddle with excitement.
 

“I see them!” she cried. “I see the footprints! Or at least, one of them. Where did you say the others were?”

“They are farther off,” said Loren. “Only practiced eyes would spy them. You should take pride in seeing the one.”

The girl’s dark skin flushed darker. Gem rolled his eyes in a huff.

Albern led them on, and both tracks and dagger pointed north for a while. The valley floor rose and fell beneath them, and on every crest Loren looked eagerly ahead, hoping to see Xain’s brown coat in flight across the wilderness. But it never appeared. They rode through midday and for two hours more. Soon the ground grew rocky, and the tracks disappeared.
 

“We should ride on anyway,” said Albern. “There is nowhere to hide, and the valley is rimmed by the mountains; Xain can have gone nowhere but north.”

Jordel looked to Loren, and fortunately she had recently stolen a peek at the dagger before Albern stopped them. She gave Jordel a small nod, and he looked forward again. But Loren saw that Albern had seen their exchange, and he looked at her most curiously before leading them forward.

Not an hour later, Albern stopped them again and had them dismount before a cluster of boulders. He quietly led their horses to it, then took Jordel and Loren forward to peek around the edge. There they saw what he had seen from afar.

A camp of satyrs waited, mayhap a mile ahead, near to the riverbank running up the valley’s center. Five of the goat-men were clustered around a small fire, eating something Loren could not see. She was somehow glad they were too far; mayhap the legends about satyrs eating children were only that, and mayhap not. They sat with spears or bows close; these were warriors.

Albern said, “I would guess it futile to try and convince you to go around? I know a path that would take us west, circling them out of sight.”

“And how long would that take?” said Jordel.

“Longer than you would wish, I am certain.” Albern sighed. “Very well. I will lead them away from the fire. Be ready to ride when I do.”

He returned to his horse and seized his bow, then rode east at a gallop. Loren waited by Midnight, stroking the horse’s neck as she grazed. Jordel stayed by the boulder’s edge, awaiting Albern’s signal.
 

A great whooping cry howling across the air toward them. Loren ran to stand beside Jordel and watch. Then she saw Albern in battle, and witnessed the true power of Calentin bowcraft.

Albern rode across a narrow ford in the river straight for the satyrs, who leapt to clutch their spears and bleat at him. But he released his reins and drew his bow, firing arrows like a man possessed. Shafts sliced through the air, falling upon the ground around the camp — yet Loren knew that not one was an intentional miss. He wanted their attention, not their lives. Albern fired another five arrows — all flew wide.
 

They did their job, for the satyrs bounded toward him with a tremendous cry. Some had bows and loosed their own arrows, but Albern was riding too fast for their aim. After turning one great circle around the outskirts of their camp he rode off again, guiding his horse back across the river and into the trees.

“Go! Quickly!” said Jordel.
 

They leapt atop their horses and rode past the camp. All the while Loren looked to the east, hoping the satyrs would not show their faces among the trees. They did not, and soon they had left the camp far behind. Jordel had them slow to a walk, and after a few minutes, Albern came riding up from behind. He had recovered his arrows, and held them clutched in his fist, inspecting each before returning them to his quiver one by one.

“Not too bad a job,” he remarked, leading his horse to ride beside the Mystic.

“That was amazing!” said Gem. “A madman unleashed.”

“It had the required effect.” Albern shrugged. “Come. We have lost some time.”

Loren snuck a glance at her dagger. Still its markings pointed straight ahead. She sheathed it and nudged Midnight with her heels.

Xain’s tracks went on and on, nearly due north, following the river. Loren guessed he meant to follow it as long as he could, for eventually it must lead to some sort of dwelling. There he could hide, and mayhap secure a horse. But she wondered that they had not caught him already. Xain had hardly looked fit to stand when last they saw him, and should have made a slow and wandering escape.

Soon, Albern called them to a halt. Again, he dismounted to inspect the ground. He studied the prints, easy to see in the soft dirt near the river, veering sharply from the water before disappearing in the west. She glanced at her dagger. Still, the markings pointed north.

“He turned aside,” said Albern. “For what, I do not know. Mayhap he thinks to hide himself somewhere in the caves. If so, he has a nasty surprise waiting. This deep in the Greatrocks, they are likely filled with satyrs. We shall ride west.”

Jordel looked back over his shoulder. “Loren?”

Albern looked at her curiously, so did the children. She flushed, but kept her eyes on Jordel’s. “We should ride north,” she said simply.

All gawked but Jordel. Albern turned to the Mystic. “The tracks are clear. He went west.”