Samual (30 page)

In time, once the roar of the explosions had died away and the smoke had thinned, Heri could see the keep as it had become. A mound of rubble surely fifty feet high peeking over the remains of the wall his brother had destroyed, burning brightly and sending a huge plume of dark smoke rising into the sky. On the ground he could see people running. He thought he could just make out their screams and cries as they carried buckets of water to douse the flames. As busy as they were they would have no time to look around and spot him riding away. It was a good sight.

Unfortunately, judging from the flames leaping not just from the mountain of rubble that had once been the keep, but also from behind it, the city was also burning. That he hadn't wanted. If the city burnt and the people left, who did he have left to rule? But he supposed they would put the fires out in time and he would rule them again one day.

It was just a shame he couldn't go back and empty out his sanctum. Gather together some useful relics for the ride. But for all he knew it was buried. And he didn't want to be seen by anyone trying to enter it. Fleeing had to be his choice for the moment. It would be months before he could return to the city in safety.

Heri turned back, and with a gentle flick of the reigns set his horse to trotting on down the road, away from the dead and dying. Away from Venti's approaching army too. Now he had only one more thing to do before he could begin his new life with the gold in his saddlebags. Before he could put in place his strategy to reclaim the throne.

He had a miserable worm of a bastard half-brother to kill. Before that though he had to make him suffer for what he had done. Samual would suffer as no man had ever suffered before. It would not be easy, but he knew there was a way. There had always been a way. The assassins had failed because they had attacked him directly. They hadn't guessed he was such a powerful wizard. The ease with which Samual had shrugged off those attacks and his subsequent show of strength forty one days ago showed the folly of that approach. But Heri knew exactly what Samual was, and he knew how to defeat magic as well as swordsmanship. He also knew Samual's greatest weakness. After all, he'd kept her locked away in his dungeon for five years. It was time to make use of her again.

Heri chuckled a little as he rode away from the keep, already savouring the feel of the dagger that he would stick in Samual's back, the slipperiness of his warm blood running through his fingers, and the sound of him gasping his last. He kicked the horse's flanks to get her to move a little faster. Samual had already lived for far too long; it was well past time that he put him in the ground. And he had a fair idea where his brother could be found. He even knew where to go to find what he would need to do the job.

His spies had in the end been of some use. Maybe one day, when he got his kingdom back, he would rehire a few of them. Those that still lived. And of course the assassins. There were any number of noble hearts that had to be pierced or poisoned. And he couldn't wait to get started.

“Have you heard of the shade faun?”

Sam shook his head carefully as he concentrated on the shape of the ice castle. It was tricky using fire magic to build ice structures, more so than using earth magic to build earth structures. Because instead of adding ice to create a wall or a roof, you had to remove all the fire from an area and then let the water in the air freeze to form the structures. Every fire wizard could do it, but it required immense control to do it well. And he wasn't building a simple structure like a bridge. He was shaping a castle out of ice. Just then he was shaping the inner walls along with outer walls, floors and ceilings. But even that wasn't enough for Master Lavellin. He'd given him more commands. Like the fact that the entire structure had to be taller than he was and yet every wall within it could be no thicker than a sheet of paper Doing it while standing out in the intense heat of the sun didn't make it any easier. But still the castle was coming together and Sam was actually quite proud of the intricate construction.

He was slowly learning the more varied and useful aspects of his talent, while practising his control and visualisation under Master Lavellin's tutelage. And though the Elder's question had surprised him he'd half expected him to make some remark or raise a question just to test his control as he held the complex shapes together. He was good at doing just that. But shade faun? The term was actually vaguely familiar, though Sam couldn't quite place it. 

“They're close cousins to us. So close in fact, that some say they are merely a different tribe of our people. But where we have tanned skin and gold or silver hair, they have dark hair and skin that merges well with that of the darkened forest. Neither dark brown nor green, but rather a strange mixture of both, and blotched as though a child had thrown paint on them.”

“Shadelings?”

The Elder's description matched that of the fabled deep forest people perfectly, especially his statement about the skin which blended so well into the forest. The names were similar as well.

Shadelings were creatures or people from among the oldest legends Fair Fields. But they had not been seen by any in the realm in living memory. In fact the legends were so old that whether they had ever truly existed had become a cause for debate. What was certain was that if they did exist, the fact that they didn't mix with the other races suggested they weren't friendly, and it was a foolish man who would venture too far into the lands they were said to call home. Whether it was because there were shadelings there or not he didn't know. He only knew that they were dangerous.

“If you like. Others also call them dark elves, tree lords and forest wraiths. But whatever you call them they are hardly ever seen, and when they are, few if any survive to tell of them.”

There was no surprise in that for Sam. The few reports they had of them from the occasional surviving rangers and explorers who ventured into their forests long ago, told of arrows coming out of nowhere, blood curdling screams and growls, and then savage people suddenly appearing and then vanishing into thin air. But even those who had given the reports couldn't swear to exactly what they'd seen.

“So why are you asking me about them Elder?” Especially when it was still his magic training time, and the elders were always so particular to make sure he studied and trained hard.

Of course there was one possible explanation, though it didn't make any sense. That the shadelings had something to do with the machina. Except that such magic combined with technology would be an anathema to them. According to the legends they worshipped trees and hated all forms of technology with a passion like that of the dryads. But unlike them, they were violent in their rejection of all things technological, not to mention the people who used such devices. Still, he had to ask that too.

“In a strange way, perhaps they are connected.”

“With what? The machina?” That had to stand as one of Master Lavellin's most cryptic remarks to date Sam thought. And there had been a lot of them already.

“Perhaps. But rather we think that they know something about the attack.”

“Why? How? And what?”

“The shade faun live in the very deepest reaches of the most impenetrable forests, and can be found in all the lands, including the great forests of Shavarra. They wander freely throughout them, though they make an art out of remaining unseen. If anybody might have seen the evil doers in person yet remained safe from the machina, it is they. And one of our soldiers as we were first fleeing the city, thought he saw one watching the exodus.”

“No more than that do we know. However, there are shade faun living in the great wilds of the Borovan Wastes, which we will be passing in a few days.”

“Yes.” Sam agreed, remembering the tales. “I've heard tales about the shadelings living there for years. But none of them are more than the bard's tales spun for coin. And none ended well.”

Actually they were very bad. There had been reports of hunters being hunted. Of foresters being run out of the forests. And travellers being chased. There had also been reports of a lot of other people who had travelled too far into their territory and who had gone missing over the years.

As for the Borovan Wastes, they were a range of small craggy mountains surrounded by some of the thickest, most densely tangled forest known in all of Fair Fields. League after league of forest. It was filled with wolves and other predators, while the land itself was thick with mud, and little of any worth could grow there. Just trees and scrub. No one other than the most dedicated ranger or hunter would ever venture in there. And of those who did too many had not returned.

“The forest itself is considered all but impassable,” Sam continued. “Certainly it can't be entered on horseback. The mud, the collapsing rock cliffs and the thickness of the trees make it all but impassable. The terrain is treacherous underfoot, the various denizens inhospitable at best, hostile more often, and it's impossible to see more than a few feet in any direction because of the trees. The bush is so thick a horse could not pass, and even a man on foot would have great difficulty. A party would have more trouble. It's too easy to get separated and lost.”

“To add to that it's one of the few parts of Fair Fields where snap wolves may still be found. They were hunted and driven out of the realm everywhere else, but in the Borovan Wastes the forest was simply too thick. Riders couldn't get through.”

“There are also some who claim that the Alder Stone lies somewhere within the wastes.”

“Alder Stone?”

“A legend. Possibly true. The stone is variously said to be an ancient shrine to the pox ridden God of Mischief, an ancient artefact, or the workings of the unseen wizards. No one knows. All that is known is that if a woman spends the night in sight of the stone she will waken with child. But the child will not be hers. It will not be of her people. But it may be of any other race.”

“The true cruelty of the jest is that husbands upon learning what their wives give birth to reject both mother and child. They assume infidelity. And sometimes there is violence.” Which would be the perfect jape that Alder would love to play, hence Sam assumed, why people claimed it was his doing.

“In any case the shadelings are said to be hidden. Unable to be seen unless and until they want to be seen. And the shadelings aren't considered friendly. The tales say they have attacked parties without warning, and often without reason.”

“It's also at least a hundred leagues back to Shavarra proper, so what could these shadelings know anyway?”

“I did not say it would be easy to meet with them. But neither should it be impossible, or as dangerous as you fear. We elves have a means of meeting safely with the shade faun. And just as the elves have ways of speaking word to word across many leagues, so too we believe can the shade faun.”

He was speaking of fire talking Sam knew. An ancient art known only by a few. Usually as he understood it, those who could do it were priests and priestesses of the Goddess. It seemed unlikely to him that the shadelings would have a similar art but he did not want to contradict the Elder.

“We have to try.” Master Lavellin added the last with a tone of finality.

Unfortunately Sam agreed with that. Before they could even hope to fight the enemy they had to know who he was, and if the shade faun had knowledge of them then they had to find out. Sam nodded his agreement somewhat reluctantly.

“In two days, Elder Bela and War Master Wyldred are going to make the attempt. They have specifically asked for your company on the journey.”

“I would be honoured to accompany them,” Sam answered automatically, while trying to suppress an instinctive groan. Those two were not his favourite elves at the best of times, and though they both seemed to have eased off on him over the previous weeks, to spend an extended period of time with them would be a trial. Still, it wasn't a choice.

When an elder asked something of an elf, compliance was expected. Failure to do so while not treason as it would be under Heri's rule, nor even a crime, would be cause for much shame. Both for the individual concerned and for his family. There was no way Sam could allow Ry and her family to be tainted with such a stain, nor in fact himself. Since he was now by and large being accepted as an elf, he had to act as one or risk being ostracised.

Worse, to refuse would be to place the so-called Fire Angel against the will of the Council, and that could lead the elves into discord and even panic, something he had already promised he wouldn't do. 

Besides, the idea made sense. If the shadelings could contact their brethren in Shavarra, assuming they survived and assuming they had some knowledge of what was happening there, it could be a valuable tool in the coming war. And while only a few of the elders even now were willing to accept that the golems that had attacked them were true machina, even they knew that what had started in their home was only the beginning. There was a war coming.

If Sam was honest with himself, he was also curious about the shadelings. He had never seen one, had never met anyone else who had, and had never even thought it possible – or wise – to seek them out. But if the elders were right, and they usually seemed to know what they were talking about, he was going to be given that chance. It might not be a pleasurable journey, but it would be interesting.

Then again it might be tricky explaining it to Ry. She had always accepted that he had other duties as a knight which sometimes took him away from her, but she had never been happy about it. To her it was simply wrong that her husband should leave her to go off and play soldier alone. She was an expert with the long bow and a natural woodsman, as were all her people. Her place was at his side.

Now, after a month and a half back with her family and getting better with every day, to learn he was heading into danger without her would not be well received. In fact the shadelings themselves might be easier to deal with.

It was about then that his concentration finally failed – as did his ice castle.