Regret's Shadow (Sins of Earth Trilogy) (17 page)

“Bring these boys some food, would you, Girty?”  Dramus and Erick were surprised by the
headmaster’s gregarious tone.  They were absolutely shocked when, as she turned to retrieve their meals, Colius slapped her on her ample rump.  She merely turned her head and gave him a mocking smile while she disappeared through the kitchen doors.

“Haha, I think she’s got
it for me,” he said, grinning while he resumed his assault on his dinner.

The duo said nothing, incredulous.  They’d come to see a completely different side to the
headmaster since they’d been on the road, but this was almost too much.  He seemed more in his element in this crush of humanity than he’d ever been at the temple.  Would this day never cease to amaze?

Their
supper passed in conversation, more than they’d shared in the two weeks on the road.  Colius was animated as he described his meeting with the monks from the Hilltop Library, where they’d make their trades.  He seemed to think that he’d get them well and truly frothing at the mouth over the titles he intended to trade to them.  On the morrow they’d make the trip up the Palace Row and see what they could see.

For their part, Dramus and Erick took advantage of the
headmaster’s mood, and even partook of some of the local brew.  Neither man was a drinker, mostly due to the bitter and weak nature of the beer that was made back in their temple. 

The deep, full flavor of the lager that the
‘Lure offered was enjoyable, and it was surprisingly strong.  Aching muscles began to relax.

About an hour after the young men had first sat down, two men seated near the stove rose from their table.  They wore black cloaks, trimmed with red, and even in the dim light kept their hoods close. 

They made a final note of the trio from the temple, before making for the exit.  As the door opened, a gust moved aside the lead man’s cloak and, had they been paying attention, one of the monks might have noticed the livery of Lockhaven on his tabard before the door closed behind the two men.

As the
Barnacle
pulled into the Bay of Eels, Jericho Darkcloak strode from the crew’s quarters up onto the deck. 

He made sure and keep his distance from the bow, where he knew that Lady Renmoth liked to spend her mornings.  He’d managed to avoid her notice during the entire trip from Freehold, and it wouldn’t do to expose himself just an hour or so before they disembarked.

He moved up just behind the main mast, leaning against a massive coil of rope.  Vedra stood upon the raised bow, her attendant nearby.  The lady braced herself against the railing, taking in the sun and the sea spray that shot up from where the
Barnacle
chopped through the small swells.  Dressed all in white, with her red hair pulled in a bun, Jericho noted, not for the first time, her beauty.

“Feelin’ melancholy?” The c
aptain’s jovial voice startled him. 

He turned to watch the thick man approach.  He
was showing a gap-toothed grin through his wiry black beard. 

“Sad your
lady friend will be departing soon?”

Jericho
couldn’t help but chuckle.  Captain Zebulon was not the most refined of men, but he was loyal to the crown, and that counted highly in the Shadow’s estimation. 

When he’d come
to the royal palace to inform the king that Renmoth’s servant had begun making inquiries regarding passage to Galloway, he hadn’t asked for compensation, only the king’s gratitude.

He hadn’t been thrilled, however, when Remiel had demanded that not only was he to take the Lady Renmoth at a discounted rate, so as to assure her passage on the
Barnacle
, but that Jericho was to go along as a member of the crew.

Of course, the fact that the
dock master would look the other way when the
Barnacle
took on her cargo had helped his disposition greatly.  He’d even opened up his cabin to the lady and her servant.  He didn’t mind bunking with the crew anyway; he had a habit of winning at dice.

The trip from the capital had taken a week, over rough seas.  Spring st
orms were common along the coast, and while it hadn’t been pleasant, luck had been with them.  No one had been lost, and the ship had come through intact. 

As they neared Galloway, the storms had eased and the ocean calmed.  All in all,
Jericho had enjoyed the trip.

“You know me, Zeb,” he returned the man’s smile, “
Love struck.”

The
captain joined him at the mast, and the two of them turned to regard the noblewoman, while Zebulon peeled off chunks of a potato and popped them into his mouth.

“Ye’ll be leavin’ as well, eh.” It wasn’t a question.

Jericho nodded.  In fact, as the spires of the palace loomed higher in their view, his thoughts turned to getting ready.  He turned, patted the captain on his shoulder and moved to descend into the hold.

An hour later
the first mate informed him that the lady had disembarked.  He made his way to the deck, garbed in his more traditional black cloak and charcoal tunic.  The captain met him at the gangplank.

“She’s made for a less-than-reputable district, my friend.”

Jericho frowned.  He looked down the length of the captain’s pointing arm.  Rather than higher up the slope to cleanlier and more affluent areas, he indicated further down the bay, toward a warehouse district.  He wasn’t aware of the lady having any relatives or business contacts in the seedier sections of Galloway, although he had to admit he wasn’t exactly a scholar on all of her contacts.

“Well that’s unexpected, but irrelevant to my duties.” He turned and extended his hand to Zebulon, “Thanks for the pleasant voyage, Captain.  I’ve enjoyed our talks.”

Zeb shook Darkcloak’s hand vigorously, “As have I.  I trust ye’ll be makin’ a favorable report to yer king when you return?” 

With that, he winked and slapped the other man on the back, sending him on his way down the plank.

Jericho grinned as he gained the dock, pulling his hood up out of habit.  He began to stroll along the way, following after the Lady Renmoth. 

After a few blocks he picked her out from the throngs of dockworkers and fishermen, a white blaze among the dull mass.

He fell into his routine easily enough after ten years as the king’s Shadow.  At one point, he noticed that the lady’s servant, a tall, lanky man in his later years, standing among a stack of barrels, searching the crowd.

The man had been wise to look for any unwanted attention, but
Jericho was an old hat at the cat-and-mouse game.  After five minutes, the attendant gave up and followed after his mistress. 

Jericho
waited for him to disappear among the throng again before slipping from his hiding spot to pick up the tail.

Twenty minutes later found them deep in the warehouse district.  The strong smell of fish had receded from nauseating to merely uncomfortable, and had been joined by smells of garbage and rotten wood.  While the sun still shone overhead, there was a gloominess
about the place that dimmed its light.

Jericho
was fine with the ambiance.  He was accustomed to working at night, and being out in the open during the day was less than ideal.  He watched the servant lurk about the opening to an alley, while he crouched among some piled refuse.  After a few moments, the man faded into the shadows.

He took a circuitous route to loop around the block, coming at the other end of the alley from the west.  He was just
in time to see the lanky aide slip into a decrepit warehouse.

Minutes slipped by as he patiently watched the entrance.  Nothing stirred.  He
found a barrel in a nearby alley and used it to gain the rooftops.  He circled the target warehouse, ensuring that no one was guarding any of the exits on the outside.

He had decided that he would return under the cover of darkness, to use
his gift to see the activity surrounding the place, when two men in dark cloaks emerged from the direction of a nearby thoroughfare.  He crouched low as they made their way through the alley.

They arrived at the exit, and paused. 
Jericho smirked as they looked up and down the street, in an obvious display of ill intent.  For a moment, he worried that these men were there to do something nefarious to the Lady Renmoth, but as they entered the warehouse, he caught the symbol of Lockhaven on one tabard as he adjusted his scabbard to get through the door.

His suspicions confirmed, he quit the rooftops and made his way out of the warehouse district, hoping to find an inn that wasn’t infested with fleas.

Hade watched the trees pass by below.  It was a sensation that was both thrilling and terrifying.  The wind tossed his hair wildly, and he realized why they’d been instructed to leave their cloaks in the cabin.

High above the forest, the airship
Fancy
soared.  It was a marvel of magical experimentation, and when they’d first seen it, the group’s estimation of Osric Glenshadow had risen considerably.

Constructed using the hull of a single masted schooner,
the sleek craft had no sails; the mast had been removed.  Two wings made with canvas stretched between wooden framework angled down and to the side amidships.  A large fin of the same construction bisected the rear cabin vertically, replacing the normal rudder.

Two large globes made of white quartz protruded from the bottom of the hull on either side of the keel.  They glowed with a soft rose light, as the magic the three apprentices managed coursed through them.

The lord mages had laughed at Osric’s designs, telling him it was a flight of fancy to convert a schooner into a flying vessel.  He’d been pleased to name the craft in their “honor”.

On the deck with Hade stood Ethelrynne,
Heldvir, Veld, and Tinder.  They had split the group at Vizerburg, hoping to help the city’s garrison prepare for the coming assault.

Chazmyr and
Brendle would remain in the city, while Leaf would make haste to return to the Arbor and inform the king of what was transpiring.  Mayhap he would find his concern for his daughter outweighed his pride.

Enella Rowe had brought them to Osric’s tower, where they were forced to inform the four apprentices that lived there of their master’s decision to stay behind.  They were clearly upset, but somehow unsurpri
sed by their master’s actions; Osric was known as a deeply altruistic man.

“He wouldn’t have stayed if he didn’t honestly believe he could help,” a young man named Dillon had said at the time.

“Master Osric has always been willing to give you the shirt of his back, if he thought it would help.” This came from a middle-aged woman with brown hair and striking grey eyes who went by the name Ms. Willow.  She seemed to be the leader of the small band of budding wizards.

She stood now behind the airship’s ornate helm, guiding their flight with subtle moves of the massive wheel.  Her eyes glowed with silver brilliance as she exerted her will over the Arcane.

Ms. Willow had been the one to take them to the airship where it was berthed in a hangar carved from the side of the gorge in Vizerburg.  Hade and his group had been more than a little dubious as she’d described the operation of the machine, but they had little choice. 

Freehold was a thousand miles to the west, as the crow flies.  If they were going to make it in time to make a real difference for the eastern frontier, they were going to need to rely on desperate measures.

There had been some initial panic as the ship hovered over the eastern half of the city, rising ever-so-slowly to emerge over the lip of the gorge and point west to begin their journey.  In the hours since, however, trepidation had been replaced by wonder.

The elves were especially enamored with the craft.  They had spoken to Hade about elf magic, different from that of humans in that they harnessed what they called the Will of Valia to shape wood, glamour weapons and tools, and heal the sick and wounded. 

None of the group possessed such skill, but having seen the princess’s magical bow, Hade didn’t doubt the potency of the magic.

The ability to let such a group feel what birds must feel as they soared among the clouds was beyond all but the most gifted of elven druids.  Even then, those wizened souls could transform themselves into avians,
but not other people.  The rangers had spent the first hour in silent wonder, with glowing grins upon their faces.

Ms. Willow, Dillon, and a spindly young man named Franz had joined them in their
journey, while the fourth apprentice, Liza, had decided to stay and look after the tower and await their master’s return.  The group of them was dismayed to hear about the goblin attack, but found an eager resolve to play a role in any defense of the Realm.

“Ms. Willow,” said Hade as he approached the woman, “You’re sure that we’ll make the capital in less than two days?  That seems impossible.”

She smiled, keeping her eyes ahead of them, almost as if she were unwilling to focus on the soldier.

“
Look at where you’re standing, Sir,” she let out a chuckle, “Impossible is a matter of perspective.”

He liked this woman, with her straightforward manner and sense of humor.

“I suppose you’re right.  It’s just a bit to get used to.” He rubbed his beard.

She nodded, “I can believe it.  I wasn’t raised in magic like the others, I spent many a year as a washer woman and milk maid before Master Osric found me.  It was quite a shock com
ing to the city to learn magic.

“As miraculous as this all is, we’re going to need to set down before evening.  It takes a lot of effort for us, even working in shifts, to keep the flyer running.  We’ll need to be sure we have a good night’s rest.”

She did look at him finally, “It wouldn’t do to pass out and let this thing drop outta the sky like a stone.”

Hade shuddered.  He’d had more than a few thoughts about plummeting to their doom than he’d like to admit.  Still, he smiled at the woman before rejoining the others near the bow.

Ethelrynne gripped his arm as he slid beside her.  She gave it a squeeze and smiled at him.  He was pleasantly surprised by her touch, but then all the elves were still in an exceptional mood.  Returning her smile, he reached over and gave her hand a pat.  If any of the rangers had noticed the exchange, none of them reacted.

“This is far better than using the
Treeway,” said Heldvir.  He hadn’t lost his grin since they’d set out.  Veld nodded sagely, sporting his own smile.  Tinder continued to gape.

Hade leaned closer to Ethelrynne, speaking into her pointed ear to be hear
d over the wind, “What is this Treeway I keep hearing about?”

She turned her head to face him, and paused.  For a moment, they were scant inches apart, and both were caught a little off-guard by the closeness.  Her purple
orbs seemed to dare him for a moment, then she leaned to his ear.  He held perfectly still, heart pounding.

“It’s how we came to the woods outside your fort.  It’s a magic
some elves use to pass through one tree, and emerge in any other tree within our Realm.  Unfortunately, the glamour hasn’t been cast on any of the trees in your Realm.”

She pulled back, and he was left yearning for the sensation of her breath on his ear.  He nodded quickly and turned to gaze over the railing, berating himself for a love-struck teenager. 

The princess was gorgeous, and a fine warrior, but she was an elf and a noble besides.  He had no business lusting after her.

“Ms. Willow said we should reach the capital tomorrow,” he said, to break the silence.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to tell your king?” she replied.

He turned to face her at length, still unsure.  She was regarding him with an open
expression.  Apparently she was unaware of his inner struggle, or she suspected he was merely thinking about her question.

“The truth, I suppose,” he put his back to the railing and br
aced his hands on it behind him.

“I can’t imagine he’d think we have reason to cook up such a tale.  Besides, having an elven princess in his court should lend credence to our tidings.”

She mimicked his pose, sidling a bit closer to him. 

“Have you met the man?”

Hade shook his head, “No.  He was present at the first muster of my unit, back before we were deployed to the ‘Folly.”

He stopped, remembering.  He’d been young, headstrong, and full of excitement.  His brigade
had travelled by ship from Galloway and stood at attention in the massive courtyard of the royal palace, awaiting review by the king.  He’d had nightly dreams of glory in the field, of battlefield promotions and single-handed victories. 

What a fool he’d been.

“I saw him from a distance and that was it.  If I were to approach the court on my own, I’d probably be laughed out of the city, or thrown in the dungeons.”

He turned to her and smirked, “I’m actually hoping to use you and your men to help win an audience.”

She patted his hand and stood, “I’ll see what I can do.” 

With a smile of her own, she walked toward the stern to chat with Ms. Willow.  Hade watched her go, before turning to take in the passing landscape once mor
e.  As he did so, he saw the three rangers watching him.  Veld grinned as they turned back to look over the railing.

Nightfall found them camped in the countryside.  They’d set the ship
down near a stand of gigantic firs, tall along the banks of a bubbling brook.  Dillon showed off some of his magic in starting the cook fire, and Heldvir had shot a small doe that they were butchering as the sun went down.

They gathered around the fire and took supper.  The cabin onboard the ship was far too small to accommodate them all, and the hold had been filled with magical components.  It was determined that the princess would take the cabin, while the others would camp next to the fire.

The talk was lighthearted, and the apprentices shared a small store of wine they’d brought along for the trip.  Hade once again wondered at how well the elves got along with the humans, even though they’d only met that day.  It filled him with a sense of hope.

Several times during the evening, he’d made eye contact with Ethelrynne.  She was often regarding him with a strange expression, and he fought with flutters in his stomach. 

They were on a quest that would decide the fate of the Realm, and he was blushing like a maiden.  Just when he’d get himself distracted, those violet eyes would land on him and he’d feel his blood warm all over again.

After a time, conversation dwindled and eyes began to droop.  Hade helped Franz set up a few small tents against the hull of the ship.  He was making ready to retire himself when he felt a touch upon his shoulder.

He was surprised to see Ethelrynne.  She had a subdued expression.

“Princess?” he said.

“If you don’t mind,” she said quietly, “I could use your help.”

He nodded, “Of course.  What do you need?”

She didn’t answer, but let her hand slide down to his and pulled him along.  She walked through the camp, everyone else asleep except for Veld, who poked the fire with a branch.  He nodded at his princess as they passed, again smirking at Hade.  The soldier felt his cheeks burn.

He wondered what Ethelrynne could possibly need his help with, and he couldn’t help but think that it was a ploy to get him alone.  He dismissed this as ego and libido talking, but it wasn’t an unpleasant idea.  She turned and offe
red him a small smile as she led him up to the ship’s deck.

In the cabin, a small lamp lent a warm glow over the card table and feather bed.  There was a trunk partially obscured in shadow at the foot of the bed, and it lay open with the princess’s cloak folded neatly inside.

“Normally,” she broke the silence, moving to allow him to enter, while at the same time closing the cabin door behind him, “Chazmyr would help me with this, but…”

“Right,” Hade said.  He had been getting more and more nervous, and when Ethelrynne turned and pointed to the clasp of her armor, just behind her neck, it made sense.  Her sergeant acted as her personal attendant on the road, and with him back at
Vizerburg, someone needed to fill the role.

While he wondered why one of her other rangers might not be suited better to the task, he still stepped forward and began to help her out of her armor. 

It was a lengthy process; the armor was intricate and Hade paid particular attention to avoid placing his hands near inappropriate places.

They talked as he worked, with the princess relating how Chazmyr had first show
n her how to don and remove her armor as well as how to care for it properly.  The rangers she commanded had watched her grow from childhood, and they were all father figures to her, in a way.

“It can be a bit smothering, at times,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and extending a booted foot.  Hade set to the buckles, keeping his eyes on his work.

“Between those doting hens and the sniveling lickspittles at court, you’re the first man I’ve met that hasn’t been trying to protect me or marry me.” She giggled a bit at the comment.

Hade stopped and looked up at her.  His heart was racing, but she seemed to be making light of their situation, so he smiled in return.  Slipping the knee-high boot free, he set to work on the other one.

“Well,” he chuckled, “I think you’ve spent more time protecting me, if we’re being honest.”  He grunted as the other boot came free.

“And I usually wait until the third date before I propose,” he said, straitening and knuckling his lower back.

She laughed out loud at the comment, cheeks flushed.  She stood in front of him. With her boots off, they were almost eye-to-eye.  She laid her hands on his chest and sighed.