Orphan's Blade (25 page)

“Northeast.” Brax whispered. He sniffed the air. “There!” Brax leaped from the wagon to the ground.

Movement blurred between the trunks. Brax launched after it.

“Wait!” Nathaniel called out as he scrambled down from the bench. “I want him alive.”

The sound of metal pulled from a sheath echoed through the woods as Brax disappeared in the shadows. Nathaniel bolted forward, branches scraping his skin. He pulled out his sword and hacked at the dead wood.

“Brax?”

Twigs snapped from the left. Nathaniel moved toward the sound. He didn’t know what he feared more, Brax being captured or Brax killing the one person that could help them.

A figure barreled into him, sending them both rolling in the ash. Nathaniel struggled to keep his hand on the hilt of his sword as his elbow hit the ground. A small, wiry frame fought against him, pushing his face into the ground. He barely weighed anything, and his arm was thin as a chicken bone. Nathaniel kicked the figure off him. The wiry man scrambled away into the darkness.

Nathaniel jumped to his feet, running after him. This was no trained warrior. He was a boy like Ardent, struggling to survive.

Several feet away, a body hit the ground with a thud. Someone grunted, then Brax’s bass voice echoed over the darkness. “’Tis over.”

Nathaniel emerged into a clearing lit by the silver light of the half moon. Brax stood, pointing his sword at a young man’s throat. Nathaniel blinked in disbelief. He’d seen that curly, red head of hair before. “Wait! Do not kill him.”

Brax’s sword lowered closer to the young man’s neck. “This boy was part of a raider attack killing two of my men. We cannot keep him as a prisoner. He’ll just slow us down and time grows thin.”

“We need him.” Nathaniel crouched next to the young man. He was one tough little guy to survive the sword wound and the swamp. Surprisingly, Nathaniel was relieved to see he was safe. “Do you work for Gibson?”

He spat in Nathaniel’s face. “I’ve seen you before. Spoiled castle folk.”

Nathaniel wiped his cheek on his sleeve. “If you will not help us, I cannot save you from his sword.”

The young man’s eyes shifted back and forth, as if he was trying to figure out a way of escape.

“There’s no escape this time.” Nathaniel leaned closer, risking another attack of spit. “What were you doing in this forest?”

Brax pushed the tip of the blade into the young man’s neck and a spot of red blossomed. Nathaniel breathed deeply, restraining himself from pushing Brax’s hand away. He had to trust him not to go too far.

“Spying.” The young man strained his head back, away from the tip of the sword.

“For Gibson?” Nathaniel persisted. Brax pressed the tip of the sword in further. A ribbon of blood trickled down the young man’s neck.

He nodded.

“Now we should kill him.” Brax growled.

“No!” Nathaniel shouted. Brax had a few things to learn about negotiations. He turned back to the young man. “Take me to this Gibson.”

“Have you gone mad?” Brax’s voice held disbelief.

Had he? He’d grown tired of years of fighting, of dead men on both sides. Brax had stopped the raiders from reaching the castle, but did his tactics truly work? Or were they adding to the problem? Nathaniel turned back to Brax. “We need more allies on our side if we’re going to win this battle against the undead.”

Brax shook his sword. “And you think these vermin will help us? They refuse our aid.”

“They will if we explain the situation. If we offer them pardons, like we did with Ardent.”

“Pardon them?” Brax sounded as if Nathaniel proposed they hand them a seat on the throne. “And shall we free all of the thieves and murderers in the dungeon as well?”

Nathaniel shrugged. “We may have to give anyone with two hands a sword.”

His urge to negotiate with the raiders came from more than the need for soldiers. This young man reminded him of his real brother, Pill, and every other country boy that had lived in these lands. These were his people. If the queen hadn’t found Nathaniel in the ash that day, he would have become a raider himself. Watching Valoria argue on Ardent’s behalf had stirred a sense of compassion inside him, and the sight of that white flower sparked hope. If the bluewoods came back, then so would the crops. Suddenly, everything became clear. “We must give them a reason to come back to Ebonvale, to farm this land.”

Brax frowned, staring at the young man with such disgust, Nathaniel thought his cause was lost. “They are not to be trusted.”

Nathaniel stood and placed a hand on Brax’s shoulder. “You take Valoria back to the castle and use the blue fire on the swamps. I’m going back with this young man to meet Gibson.”

Brax shook his head. Concern lit in his dark eyes. He did care for Nathaniel, even if they didn’t see sword to sword. “This is foolishness. They’ll kill you or offer you for ransom.”

Nathaniel sighed. “Either I’m dead now, or when the necromancer knocks on our door. I’ll take the chance they’ll listen to what I have to say.”

Brax’s face softened, making Nathaniel realize how much he meant to the warrior. “I’m not giving you up to the enemy.”

“You have no choice.” Nathaniel faced him with a steady look. “I’ve followed you in every way since you became Commander of the Royal Guard. But, this time I will not back down.”

Nathaniel turned back to the young man. “Will you take me to Gibson?”

The young man nodded and grinned. “Gibson will reward me for bringing such a prize.”

Brax raised his sword off the young man’s neck and turned to Nathaniel. “If I cannot convince you otherwise, then I will go with you.”

Nathaniel raised a hand to stop him. “You are too valuable. They need you at the castle.”

Brax shook his head. “They will only believe a pardon if it’s from the prince’s own mouth.”

* * * *

Anxiety crawled up Valoria’s spine as she marched with Brax and Nathaniel to the raider’s main camp. As much as she wished to help them, this plan was far beyond anything she would have imagined. Time was already short, and they held the one thing that would save Ebonvale in their hands. If anything happened to them, the kingdom would surely fall.

Determination set in Nathaniel’s jaw and conviction shone in his eyes. She had to believe in him. More allies meant a greater army, and who knew how many undead were swarming in the mountains of Sill?

Brax’s shoulders were tense and his jaw taut. He didn’t seem as taken with the plan, yet he strode with strong-willed steps. When he committed himself to a cause, he did it wholeheartedly. That much she admired in him.

Valoria gripped her harp with white knuckles, hoping she didn’t have to use it. More and more her music entwined with the black magic, and she had a hard time separating the two. Her dreams had turned dark, and those black eyes followed her wherever she went.

The red-haired young man leading them moved sinuously in the darkness, as if he’d been hiding in shadows all his life. They climbed a nearby hill, then descended into a valley of dirty rainwater and muck. The half-moon shone in the distance like a beacon growing dim as they climbed down an incline to an old mine shaft.

“You do not mean to take us in there.” Brax spoke with disbelief as he stopped at the opening to the mine. Chills crept over Valoria’s spine as she stood at the mouth of darkness. Only death waited in there.

The young man smirked as he picked up a small torch in the corner and lit it by sparking two pieces of flint. “If you wish to meet Gibson, then you have to follow me.”

Nathaniel nodded without hesitation, gesturing for them to follow. “Take us in.”

A damp chill surrounded them as they entered. The torch cast flickering light on walls of rock and caked mud. Old rail tracks led into the depths. The young man brought them down a winding tunnel that grew narrower the farther they traveled.

Brax and Nathaniel had to lean over to fit through. Valoria touched the ceiling with her fingers, fearful it might cave in on her head. They passed another tunnel, then entered an open area where crumbled old mine carts heaped in a pile. Small pieces of coal littered the ground. A metallic scent hung in the air.

“You’ll have to leave your weapons here.” The red-haired young man commanded them as if he were king.

“I’d rather die on my own sword.” Brax growled and lunged at the young man.

“Enough.” Nathaniel raised his arm to hold Brax back. “Do as he says.”

Valoria clutched her harp to her chest. “This is no weapon.” She couldn’t imagine leaving it in the dirt.

“We will leave our swords if you allow our companion to keep her harp.” Nathaniel glanced at Valoria and winked.

The young man eyed Valoria and nodded. “Very well.”

Valoria scoffed silently. Apparently, she didn’t look threatening. How little these people knew of minstrels.

They approached a doorway guarded by two older men with ash smeared over their faces. The red-haired guide approached them and whispered in one of their ears. Valoria could hear every word. “Tell Gibson I got something good coming his way.”

One of the men nodded and ran ahead. The other one sneered as they passed. The corridor was wider with lit torches on either side. They emerged in a cavern with a lake. Small huts made from clay nestled around the shore. Children scurried inside at the sight of them, and women with pale, dirty faces coughed and clutched babies to their chest.

Guilt panged in Valoria’s gut. She’d expected a gang of thieves, and instead she saw families scrounging to survive. They must have escaped into the mines when the wyverns attacked and never come back out. To grow up in such darkness and suffering horrified her. Why hadn’t Ebonvale reached out to its people?

Nathaniel and Brax gaped at the clay structures as they passed. Valoria followed them, wondering if they had the same thoughts. Would this change the way Brax ran the kingdom? Maybe so,
if
they escaped with their lives.

The young man brought them to a ridge of stone where two men stood guard. The mouth of another cave flickered with firelight. The skulls of cows, oxen, and sheep hung on the walls around the opening.

Drums sounded from within, and a stone-faced man with a swath of black hair streaked with gray and a short beard emerged from under a piece of bear’s fur covering the opening. The guards around him bowed and retreated.

He glanced down at Valoria, Brax, and Nathaniel with suspicion and disgust in his cold, tired eyes. Guards filled the cavern around them, making Valoria’s unease spike. Archers were stationed in ridges over their heads, and men with spears stood at every exit. If negotiations turned sour, there would be no easy escape.

Nathaniel stepped forward. “You are Gibson?”

He nodded curtly. “What’s it to you?”

Nathaniel bowed his head. “I am Nathaniel Blueborough, adopted son of the queen and the late king. This is Braxten Thoridian, Prince and heir to the throne. Beside me stands Valoria of the House of Song, Princess and future Queen of Ebonvale. We have come to ask for your aid in return for a full pardon.”

The middle-aged man laughed. He had two gold teeth and quite a few missing. “The prince of Ebonvale? Asking for our aid?”

Brax growled deep in his throat. Valoria tightened her fingers on her harp, waiting for the right time to strike a chord.

Nathaniel held his hand up, silencing Brax. “That’s right.” He held his ground. “We need your aid in making Ebonvale the glorious kingdom it was before the wyverns came.”

Gibson leaned over, towering above them on his protected ridge. He smirked. “Why should we help you?”

Nathaniel’s gaze held so much conviction, not even a thief could distrust him. “If you do not help us with the northern front, undead will break through the ramparts and spread into these lands.”

Gibson waved his concerns off. “We’ll stay underground. We survived the wyverns, and we can live through this.”

“And who will you rob?” Valoria spoke up as anger got the better or her. “The undead have no gold. They do not eat nor drink. The land they cross is plagued with swamp and blight. Lest you board up that entrance and never come out again, they’ll find their way down, and then there’s no stopping them.”

Unease crossed Gibson’s face. He shifted from foot to foot as if deciding what to do. Then, he signaled the archers, and all around them, bows pulled taunt. “We’ll ransom you all to the queen and have enough supplies to outlast the horde.”

“Chickens!” Brax shouted. “You’ll run out of food and die in this hole.”

“But not this one.” Gibson pointed to Nathaniel. “He’ll suffer the same death as you paid my brother. Speared through the chest—you remember that, my prince? You dragged his body to the front line and chopped off his head.”

The image of the head bouncing from the upturned bag flashed through Valoria’s mind. She wished she’d closed her eyes, but she’d stared instead, watching those soulless eyes gaze right at her. Brax had said it was the leader of the rebels. Had Gibson taken his brother’s place?

Brax growled. “He betrayed our people. He killed members of the Royal Guard.”

Gibson pointed a finger at the prince. “Your father betrayed us, running off while the rest of the army holed up in that castle as the wyverns burnt every last meadow.”

Brax shook his fist. “My father was fighting with the brunt of our army in Scalehaven, battling the wyverns at the source.”

Shock registered in the faces of the guards and the onlookers surrounding them. Perhaps they hadn’t been told the whole truth.

Gibson’s eyes turned sinister and remote. There was no reasoning with him. “Just as you killed my brother, yours too will die.”

As he brought down his hand to signal the archers, Valoria whipped out her harp and strummed the chord of power. Everyone fell to their knees, covering their ears. But the effect would only last a few seconds. She needed more than her minstrel music to save Nathaniel, and for him she’d call on the necromancer himself.

Valoria closed her eyes and reached to the brink of darkness residing within her. The evil welled up faster than before, as if it traveled through known channels. The necromancer’s black holes for eyes stared back at her, and his voice resounded through her mind.