Resurgent Shadows (Successive Harmony Book 1) (15 page)

“Thanks for the advice,” Caleb said, closing his eyes again.

“Don’t ignore Faerin’s warning, Caleb. She sent me here for a reason. I was to deliver this message and help you along your path. Please listen. You don’t know what I’ve had to go through to get this to you. You don’t know what will happen if you choose not to take this path.” She shuddered. “Please, do what must be done.”

Caleb blinked and shook his head to clear the drowsiness. Had he heard her correctly? She’d gone through a lot to get to him? To tell him that if he didn’t follow his dreams all was lost? There was such a note of earnestness in her voice through that it cut through Caleb’s pragmatism and growing annoyance. She honestly believed what she was saying. Was she mad?

After a moment, CeNira cocked her head to the side slightly as if listening, though Caleb didn’t hear anything. His mind refused to work properly, to process the information it had just received. It didn’t make any sense.

“Sigvid is coming back now,” CeNira said, passing a hand in front of Caleb’s face. “You need not remember what I have said until after I have left.”

The fogginess in his mind intensified in a piercing flash of pain. His temples throbbed. His skull felt like it would burst from the sudden, blinding torment. His eyelids snapped shut and rode the darkness and agony. In an instant it was gone.

He opened his eyes and found a pair of blue-green eyes looking back into his own. The last thing he remembered was her healing his ribs, but she studied him now with open appraisal. There was something in her eyes, a power and strength that was at direct odds with the situation he’d found her in. He must have dozed off because she had changed clothes. She wore a thin white robe edged in silver and looked as if she had washed up a little, though the bruises on her face were still red and swollen. The chain of her amulet stood out against the layer of dirt on her neck.

“What’s your name?” he asked to break the uncomfortable silence.

“I am called CeNira. I am a cleric of the Goddess, Faerin.” She smiled shyly, an interesting, mocking twinkle in her eyes.

“I’m sorry about Bothvar. I don’t know why he would think that we would—um, that I would—”

The woman’s face fell into a petulant frown. She looked down at herself as if checking to make sure that everything was not out of sorts. She produced a rag from somewhere in her satchel and scrubbed at the dirt and grime on her face.

“Am I not pretty enough for you?” She looked up at him through long, full eyelashes.

Caleb flushed and blood hammered in his ears. He started to stammer a response, but was interrupted. A key scraped in the lock and the door swung inward to reveal Sigvid and a pair of wizened, white-haired dvergers silhouetted in the doorway. Caleb lurched to his feet and took a hasty step in front of CeNira. He trusted Sigvid, but he found himself feeling strangely protective of the captivating woman.

He took a moment to appraise the two dvergers that accompanied the Sigvid. Both were old, their hair and beards a stark white that shone like granite against their gnarled and craggy faces. Their deep brown, opalescent eyes bore the marks of decades of leadership and knowledge. Both were garbed in the simple tunic and thick leather trousers that the dvergers wore when not in armor. The dverger on the left carried a small iron chest in his arms.

“Peace, boy,” Sigvid said with a slight nod. “The Council has decided that you may keep the woman. She must, however, wear these at all times.”

The smith opened the small chest and pulled out a pair of small metal bracers and a simple steel ring. Caleb thought he heard CeNira snort behind him, but when he glanced back her face was downcast and her expression hidden.

He turned back to face the three dvergers. “What are they?”

One of the older dvergers responded. His voice popped and cracked like loose shale under booted feet. “They are one of the six Bands of Garik, forged in the Halls of Tealcenrir many eons ago. The Bands keep magic users from using their powers without consent of the wearer of the Ring.”

There was definitely a condescending laugh from CeNira at the words.

“She’s not a magic user,” Caleb said. “She is a cleric. I’m not keeping her on a leash like some common dog.”

Sigvid shook his head, but it was too late. The other dverger stepped forward angrily and raised a fist, his voice quivering with authority and anger. “Do not be questioning the Council! Sigvid has spoken for you, human, and did be evoking the right of plunder in behalf of this woman, but I do be against both decisions. You both be better off dead and will be the ruin of us all, you be hearkening to my words. Do not try our patience or your end will be swift and without mercy.”

Caleb stared into the dverger’s blazing eyes and met the cold fury within them with an iron gaze. Any semblance of wisdom he’d seen earlier had vanished, replaced by loathing.

Surprisingly, it was CeNira who broke the heavy silence that followed. She stepped forward and held her arms out to Sigvid, palms upwards. Sigvid hesitated for a moment, then quickly opened the metal bracers and snapped them over her wrists.

“I would be dead now if you were not in need of a healer.” The tone of her voice made it clear it was not a question.

“Aye,” the dverger holding the chest answered. “The Council decided that having a healer was worth the risk of keeping you alive. Do not make us regret that choice.”

Caleb didn’t know what to say. CeNira’s bland acceptance of her sudden enslavement troubled him deeply. It was like seeing an eagle caged and on exhibit. He shook off the feeling. She was alive at least, and being alive with the dvergers was much better than being a prisoner of the Dragonhosts.

“Such is the way of dvergers,” CeNira whispered, as if reading his mind. She spoke so softly that Caleb doubted anyone else heard it.

The old dverger who had shouted at Caleb leaned over and whispered something in Sigvid’s ear. The blacksmith scowled, but slipped the steel ring onto his stubby middle finger.

“Wait,” Caleb said, “don’t I wear the ring since she is my plunder?”

The dverger who had whispered in Sigvid’s ear laughed, though there was no humor in it. “Do you think we be fools, boy? You hold the ring that controls the witch’s magic? She’d be seducing you and be free before the day is through! No, human, Sigvid will be wearing the Ring.”

Caleb’s temper flared, but Sigvid made a pleading gesture for him to remain silent and CeNira lightly placed a hand on his shoulder. He calmed, but glanced at CeNira out of the corner of his eye. Her eyes were blazing with suppressed anger, but her expression remained obsequious and calm.

“If that is all, Councilmen, we’ll go now,” Sigvid said.

The dverger with the iron chest nodded and left. The second shot one last pointed look at Caleb and CeNira before he turned and followed his companion out the door.

“Thank you, dverger,” CeNira said once they had gone. “You have done me a great service.”

“Oh shut up,” Sigvid snapped, “I didn’t do it for you. I don’t trust you any more than Rothvar does!”

“Why’d you do it then?”

“That’s none of your business! Boy, you and I will have words later. This is the last time that I stick my neck out for you!”

“I couldn’t just let her get taken,” Caleb protested. “Enough people have died at the hands of the Dragonhosts!”

“So you’d hand over the lives of six dvergers, including myself, in order to save one of your own kind?”

Caleb was stung by the words. “None of you died! We saved her! I just saw her tied up like that and lost control.”

“Exactly,” Sigvid said, expression tight and controlled. “You lost control and ran off on your own to play the hero. You ignored the plan and put us all in danger. There were enough of us to wipe out the entire patrol if you’d followed the plan, but instead you abandoned reason and ran into it alone, blasting away with that fool weapon of yours! The noise gave us away to all the patrols near!”

Caleb’s mouth worked soundlessly, stunned by Sigvid’s sudden temper. It was at odds with everything Caleb knew about the smith. Sigvid was the cool, rational one. The other dvergers,
they
were the rash ones.

“I’m sorry, Sigvid,” Caleb said with a deep, exhaustive sigh. “I didn’t mean to put you or the others in danger. I just . . . well, I just couldn’t let her die. Not like that.”

Sigvid grunted and ran a hand through his beard, though he appeared mollified. It was hard to tell beneath all that facial hair sometimes.

“Fine,” Sigvid said after a moment. “Let’s go then.”

Sigvid spun on his heel and strode out of the guardroom. Caleb moved aside to let CeNira pass, but she was already beyond him, whisking around the door frame with her satchel over her shoulder. Caleb hurried after her.

CeNira walked through the dimly lit passages with her head bowed, her white-blond locks forming a thin curtain over her face. The curls danced playfully as she walked, her stride smooth and graceful, almost regal, despite her dejected spirit. Whether she was a cleric, charlatan, or witch, he did not know, but Caleb had seen CeNira perform miracles and that made him wary. It was still altogether possible she was a spy for the Dragonhosts and he had led her straight into the dverger home.

Sigvid was right to be angry, to be upset. This was his home, the place he laid his head. Despite himself, Caleb trusted the smith and considered him a friend, as odd as that was to admit after almost two years living on his own. His life was slipping out of his control at incredible speed. Only days before, his only thought had been his quest for blood and vengeance. Now he had dared to do what he had told himself that he would never do again—care.

Lost is his thoughts, he didn’t notice they’d arrived at Sigvid’s quarters until the smith was creaking open the door. He hurried to catch up as Sigvid and CeNira vanished through the doorway ahead of him.

Inside Sigvid’s quarters, CeNira was already seated on Caleb’s workbench and Sigvid was absent, most likely off in the sleeping quarters. The cleric rummaged around in her heavy leather satchel, searching for something that eluded her grasp. Sigvid reappeared from the bedroom, his armor replaced by his leather vest and apron. Caleb grinned at the dverger’s inexorable predictability. The dverger turned to his metalwork whenever he was agitated. Looking at the dverger as he began working the bellows to bring the coals back to life, Caleb realized that the smile was the first true semblance of happiness that had crossed his face in a long time.

He looked over at CeNira. The woman stared back at him, but her deep blue eyes were limpid pools of emotion, unfocused, sad, and distant. Still, Caleb shivered and wondered what it was she found so fascinating about his face.

“It’s a start,” she said, returning her focus to him. “Now you really should rest. You were severely injured today and you need sleep to regain your strength.”

The fatigue of the day washed over him like a bucket of ice water, as if were swelling at her words. Every ache and pain he’d felt before CeNira had healed him blazed back with full intensity. With a groan of pure exhaustion he nodded his agreement and stumbled into the bedroom and collapsed onto his pile of skins on the floor.

He was asleep before his head hit his pillow.

*              *              *              *

Sigvid was so consumed with his own silent musings and the steady rhythm of the bellow he worked that he didn’t notice Caleb slip into the bedroom. His old body ached and complained against the strain and the abuse of the past night’s raid, but he ignored it stubbornly. Working the metal calmed him and kept his mind and hands busy, which is what he needed, especially after his stunt before the Council.

The idiot boy!

He didn’t know why he hadn’t killed the whelp when the watchmen had first dragged him into the bunker a fortnight ago. He should have, but there was something in Caleb’s shattered expression that had pulled at his heart and stayed his hand. Then that blasted wyrm had come and the stupid man had saved Sigvid’s life. If there was something Sigvid hated more than Dragons and golgent-folk, it was being in someone else’s debt.

He’d done what he could to help the boy. He had adopted him before the Council and had bludgeoned through their arrogant resistance with his rank as Ferreiro. That hadn’t worked this time. No, this time he’d had to go and put everything
else
on the line. Why? Because the boy somewhat reminded Sigvid of himself after he’d lost his wife?

Fool!

He wasn’t sure if he meant himself or the boy. He knew the boy’s pain. In truth, Rothvar had been right, at least partially. The boy reminded Sigvid of his own past, of his own loss. Saving the woman, that was something he would have done himself only a few years ago, back when he’d been lost to the berserker within him.

Sigvid had tried to warn Caleb about that terror lurking within him when Raleigh fell, but it was not so simple a thing as that. Losing the berserker’s rage was not something that happened over the course of a single battle. Sigvid stopped in his pulling on the bellow’s handle momentarily, his mind lost in memory.

“What is the brother to the King and a Ferreiro doing out in a mining Enclave?”

Sigvid started and pulled down hard on the bellows, sending copious amounts of hot ash flying into the air from the mouth of the forge. He coughed and spluttered in the cloud of cinders. He whirled around to stare at the woman who had come up behind him without a sound. She smiled at him innocently, though the smile did not reach her eyes.