Shadows of Men (The Watchers Book 1) (21 page)

              “You know I do not think you weak.”

              “Then tell me what it was you saw.”  Mayvard’s tone was bordering on demanding, which Rhada would never have expected to hear from him. 
If he wants to know so badly then he shall.

             
“All right.”  She said, leaning closer to the fire and keeping her gaze on Mayvard.  “In the fog I found corpses- the skeletons of thirty people, legs broken and burned alive, piled in a heap inside a ring of stone; a sacrificial shrine.”

              Mayvard’s countenance grew grim as she explained the scene she had stumbled upon. 

              “How long do you suppose they have been there?”  He asked.

              Rhada shrugged her shoulders.  “It is difficult to say.  But the bones did not look as though they were over a year old.  They were charred but clean and there was no sign of weathering on them.” 

              “The Shadow Cult used to practice something similar.”  Mayvard explained, as though Rhada had never heard of such a thing.

              “So you have read the history books.”  She acknowledged, wondering how he could have read them and still been accepting of the idea of traveling through the Forest of the Dead.

              “Of course I have.”  He said, almost offended.  “Do you think the Shadow Cult still exists?”

              “If it does, they have done a very good job of staying hidden all these years.”  Rhada knew if there had ever been whisperings of the cult, the King would have hunted them all down and executed them.

              “But why are they performing their rituals now?  What could they be trying to accomplish?”

              “Perhaps they are paying tribute to the days of old.”  Rhada muttered, feeling in her gut that that was not the case.  As she said those words, Bloodbinder began furiously humming, angry she would not admit what she already knew.  

              “Or perhaps it is not the Shadow Cult at all.”  Mayvard suggested.  “Whatever it was, there is no way of knowing tonight.”

              Once the fire died to merely embers, the two of them stretched out their blankets side-by-side and were grateful for the soft grass to lie on.  Mayvard fell quickly asleep but Rhada remained awake, looking up to the stars that were now visible in the clear, fog-free sky, and trying her best to ignore the ringing of the sword in her ears.  She knew Mayvard could not hear it and she was suddenly envious of his ignorance towards the screaming blade.

             
With it yelling this loudly, I do not think sleep will be possible for me tonight! 
She turned her head to stare at the sword lying in the grass next to her and she reached out a hand to gently stroke the leather casing of the scabbard.  She could feel it vibrating through her fingertips, sending tingling pulses up the length of her arm.

              She closed her eyes and tried to imagine what the sword could possibly be telling her.  She knew in her heart the darkness they were heading towards was something of an unnatural origin- something caused by a force of evil.  Rhada suddenly grew nervous that perhaps she and Mayvard were not as prepared for their encounter with this evil as they should have been. 

              When she opened her eyes, she could see the outline of his sleeping form lying next to her in the grass, snoring quietly into the night air. 

             
He would do anything for me.  He has traveled across the realm into an unknown danger without even a second thought.  I will not allow any harm to come to him. 
She would send him away if need be, though she knew he would object, but in the end he would follow her command. 

              Bloodbinder remained restless for the rest of the night.  A few times, Rhada found her exhaustion overwhelming and despite the ringing in her ears, was able to sleep for a few moments here and there.  But when the sun began to rise over the horizon, she was wide awake and cursing at the blade that did not wish to let her get the rest she needed.

              Mayvard sighed and rolled onto his back, opening his eyes slowly and staring up to the morning sky with a grin.  When he turned to Rhada, his smile faded and was replaced with a look of concern.

              “Rhada, have you not slept?”  He asked, studying her tired face.  He could see from her tousled hair and blood-shot eyes she had struggled during the night.

              Rhada shook her head, not wanting to tell Mayvard the truth of the sword’s incessant moaning, causing him worry, but she knew she could not hide the tired look of her face from him.

              “Bloodbinder kept me awake.”  She replied.

              “Have you any idea why?”

              Rhada shook her head once more.  She knew the blade was warning her of something but what that something was eluded her.  She grasped the hilt of the sword and stood on weary legs.  She unsheathed the blade and watched the steel glisten in the morning light.  The sight of it always made her smile.  The steel was warm to the touch and shone brilliantly no matter how dim the light was.  The blood-red streak tearing down the middle of the steel glistened in the reflection of the sun.  The inscription etched into the blade ran through her mind like a song and somehow it made her spirits rise.  Though the blade continued to vibrate angrily, holding the steel brought joy to Rhada’s heart.  She sheathed it once more and looked to Mayvard, giving him a reassuring nod.

              “It will not stop until we reach Tyos.  So let us pack up our things and be on our way quickly.  We have many more miles to travel and I should like to get this journey over with.”

              After a quick breakfast and a few moments of packing their belongings, they were on their way once more- their horses padded happily along the soft grass, apparently just as glad to be out of the bog as she and Mayvard were.

              They walked most of that day without stopping to rest, hoping to put as many miles behind them as possible. 

              Finally, when nighttime began to surround them, they stumbled upon the path they had followed when they first entered the forest; The Silent Trail.  Rhada could not help the smile that formed on her lips at the sight of the path and she ordered them to stop and make camp at the trailhead. 

              Mayvard stretched his blanket out amongst a bed of wild flowers and lay on his back, raising one leg into the air at a time, trying to stretch the stiffness from riding all day.

              Rhada removed her waterskin from her saddlebag and sat against the trunk of a tree, sipping the water slowly as she watched Mayvard. 

              It was in that moment she realized how young he was.  It struck her as odd that she had never realized it before. 

              He was barely a man grown, in his early twenties but to Rhada, he had always seemed older.  Though he was young in body, he was old in spirit, carrying with him the wisdom of a man who had lived to be a hundred. 

             
He is much like his father in so many ways. 

              Mayvard sat up tall and when he saw her studying him, he smiled warmly.

              “I will never get used to riding this long.”  He complained as he pulled his left arm with his right hand, making it pop as it stretched.

              Rhada smiled back.  “Nor will I.”
              “We are still a few days away from North Fort.”  Mayvard said.  He turned his gaze towards his horse and frowned.  “I am certain to be suffering from a few saddles sores by then.”

              Rhada nodded.  “Six or seven days by my guess.”  With the deer that Mayvard had caught, she was not worried about having enough food for the journey, though they would need to ration carefully. 

              “When we get to North Fort, I am going to order as much food as I can and wash it down with a crisp, cool ale.”

              Rhada smiled at the thought of ale.  She shared his desire for the refreshment but she also desperately wished to refill the tobacco in her pipe.  She was certain she would not be able to face the troubles of Tyos without a fresh pipe to smoke.

              A few moments later, they both sat in silence.  Mayvard lie stretched out on his back with his hands resting behind his head and staring up at the stars.  Rhada sat leaned against the tree, looking to the sword that buzzed in her ears with disdain. 

             
It grows louder and louder the longer we sit idle. 
She wished she could make the sword stop, even for just one night but there was no appeasing the blade.  The magic housed within the steel could sense it was in danger. 

             
What is it that can cause the blade to act this way? 
In all her years of carrying it with her, through battle after battle, never before had it rang so loudly and with such alarm.  She suddenly got a terrible feeling of what could be making Bloodbinder act out. 

             
There is only one force in this world that could cause Bloodbinder to panic as it is. 
She hoped she was wrong.

              She turned her gaze back to Mayvard and saw he was still awake, staring up towards the night sky.

              “Mayvard,” she said in a whisper, as though she really didn’t want him to hear her speaking to him.

              “Hm?”  He mumbled in reply, apparently on the brink of sleep. 

              She stopped for a moment, not exactly certain how she should tell him of her fears and then decided perhaps it would be best not to mention it yet.  For no matter how brave and dedicated Mayvard was, knowing the truth might be the one thing that frightens him away. 

              “Get some rest.”  She said, taking in a deep breath to calm her nerves.  She feared that perhaps even she would not have the courage to face this enemy. 

              “Goodnight, Rhada.”  Mayvard said quietly and he closed his eyes and forgot about the world around him.

              Rhada turned her head away from Bloodbinder, hoping she could ignore the ringing long enough to get some rest.  She closed her eyes and was almost immediately asleep.  She dreamed of the sword and its high-pitched scream.  She dreamed she was holding it against the shadows that emerged to take her prisoner.  She dreamed of a man within the shadows, calling her by name.  His eyes were aglow with fire and his arm was outstretched, reaching for her and though Bloodbinder screamed in her ear, telling her to turn and run, Rhada released her grip on the hilt, letting it fall to the ground with a clatter and she reached out to take the shadow’s hand in her grasp.  It was icy to the touch but the fire that burned within his eyes warmed her from the inside and before she knew it, she was being pulled into the Shadow Realm and for once, she could no longer hear the screaming of the blade. 

Chapter 17

T
he last six days of traveling through the forest blended together and seemed to go by in a haze for Rhada.  But when the trees began to grow thinner and sparser, Rhada felt relief welling up inside of her. 

              Almost as suddenly as they had emerged from the Forest of the Dead, Bloodbinder stopped vibrating so violently and for once, Rhada’s ears were not filled with a throbbing ring.  She sighed with relief and instinctively looked down to the sword, hoping it would remain silent for the rest of their journey. 

              When night fell, they found a soft spot next to the trail to rest.  Their horses grazed freely and Mayvard and Rhada sat huddled around a fire.  Even the cold had somewhat dissipated with the forest but still there was a chill in the air- the chill of the lingering threat of northern winter- though it no longer caused Rhada to shiver and she happily set her blanket aside and watched the flames rise into the dark night.

              “Two more days and we shall reach North Fort.”  Mayvard said between sips of tea.  He handed the mug over to Rhada who gratefully took a sip of the hot liquid.  Flavors of mint and juniper mixed in her mouth to burn her tongue and she made a sour face before handing it back. 

              “A bit of silver spirit would be advantageous to the flavor of that.”  She said with a look of disgust.  She longed for the liquid she had hidden away in her chamber back in Axendra.  It was a clear spirit the potion master made for her.  It was the strongest spirit she had ever tasted and often drank it at night to soothe her dreams.

              Mayvard shook his head and laughed.  “Myranda makes this tea for me.  She says it will make me strong and wise.” 

              “You’d be wiser to throw it out.”  Rhada said as she reached for her pipe but then remembered she had no tobacco.  She set it back in her pack and frowned.  “The first thing I am going to do when we reach North Fort is buy the largest sack of tobacco I can find.”

              “We also need to replenish our food packs.”  Mayvard reminded her.  He sipped his tea again and made a subtle face of disgust that made Rhada laugh.  “I suppose I am strong enough.”  He said and he turned the mug over to dump out its contents.

              Rhada watched the flames die down before finally shutting her eyes and letting herself slip into unconsciousness.  She had been afraid her dreams would terrorize her during the night but she woke the next morning feeling rested and rejuvenated.  She had slept through the night and did not remember any of her dreams. 

              The next night was the same and by the time their trail met up with the main road that would take them into North Fort, Rhada felt like her old self again.  Memories of the troubles they had found in the forest melted away completely and she decided never again would she enter that dreadful place. 

              North Fort was a quaint, farming town, nestled in the center of an open meadow, rural and picturesque in its own little way.  The houses were nothing more than logs that had been stacked and sealed together with thatched roofs overhead.  They passed field after field of hay and corn which North Fort was best known for.  They hoped to reach the inner city by nightfall.  As Rhada looked ahead, she could see it in the distance, disappearing with the evening glow.  There was one road that passed through the city with merchants’ shops lining either side. There was only one inn for travelers to rest their weary legs at.  It was not large, to say the least, and she hoped there would be at least one room to spare for them.

              As they entered the city of North Fort, strangers’ heads turned as they passed, looking up to them with wary eyes.  Rhada noticed more than one scowl pointed in her direction but she did her best to ignore them. 

              They passed a blacksmith, a bakery -which Rhada was tempted to stop at as the smell of fresh baked bread wafted to her nose- a wine shop, two barber shops and a stall.  Rhada remembered the stall being directly across the street from the inn- the inn not having one of their own- so they led their horses there for food and water, to be re-shoed, and to rest.  They removed everything from their packs that was necessary- Rhada made certain that her pipe was in hand, and they crossed the road to the Sleeping Cow Inn. 

              Outside the door, the sound of music and laughter filled the void of the depressive street and Rhada felt her spirits soaring, but once they opened the door and crossed the threshold, the music stopped and the laughter stiffened into a silent, pondering stare.  Eyes from every corner fell upon them and it was obvious to Rhada that she was no stranger in this small town.

              The two of them, though dirty and unkempt, reeked of Axendra, with their boiled leathers, Rhada’s long, dark hair and gray eyes, and Mayvard’s dark beard and broad chest- they were recognizable beyond a doubt.  Bel’dak and Bloodbinder did not help to conceal their identities from the people of North Fort, nor did Mayvard’s dagger dangling at his side. 

              Whispers began filling the room and the fiddler in the corner began slowly playing a solemn ballad as they made their way to the only empty table. 

              “Not a friendly lot, are they?”  Mayvard said, scanning the room with his perceptive eyes.

              “No.”  Rhada said flatly with her arms folded across her chest.  She had not exactly expected a warm welcome but had hoped to be, for the most part, unnoticed.  But the swift glances of repulsion and whispering consortiums had put her in a foul mood.   

              The innkeeper, a pudgy, middle-aged woman who resembled the likeness of a swine, stared at Rhada with harsh and unforgiving eyes.  She served them food, ale and handed her enough tobacco to fill her pipe but she did not pretend to be happy about serving the High Protector.  Rhada smiled and politely thanked the woman but when she looked up from her plate of roasted duck and saw the innkeeper glowering at her from behind her counter, Rhada glowered back and told the old woman to leave them in peace.  The innkeeper huffed angrily and disappeared behind the kitchen doors.

              “The service here is not what I remember it being.”  Mayvard said as he took a sip of ale. 

              “The service, I’m sure, is just fine unless you are accompanying the High Protector!”  Rhada said spitefully.  She pulled out her pipe, stuffed the handful of tobacco that she had acquired from the innkeeper into it, leaned back in her chair and lit the dry leaves.  She breathed deeply and closed her eyes as the smoke filled her lungs.  She sighed with relief and opened her eyes as she exhaled to watch the smoke float away from her. 

              “You know it is not the entire realm that despises you.”  Mayvard said, pushing his now empty plate away from him and cradling his ale.

              Rhada merely shook her head and closed her eyes again, trying to block out Mayvard’s words.  “I really do not wish to speak about it Mayvard, not tonight.”

              They sat in silence until all of Rhada’s tobacco had been smoked and all of Mayvard’s ale had been drunk.  He kept looking to her with pained eyes and every so often would open his mouth to say something but seemed to think better of it and closed his mouth again.  Finally, Rhada could bear it no longer.  She rolled her eyes at her companion and said; “what is it then?  Have you something to say or no?”

              Mayvard shifted uncomfortably in his chair.  His eyes darted nervously around the room until they fell upon her face.  He cleared his throat before speaking; “perhaps if you just tried to reach out to the people, they might open up to you.  The war was two years ago.  They cannot still hold so much contempt…”

              At the word
contempt
, Rhada lost her temper.  She slammed her clenched fist down on the table, causing Mayvard to jump in his chair.  The senseless chatter of the other patrons ceased to fill the room around them and all eyes were now fixed on the two of them.

              “I told you, I will have no more of this talk!”  She stood, placed her pipe in her belt strap and stomped away, pushing the doors to the inn wide open and stepping out into the cool, crisp air of the night. 

              Aimlessly she began to wander the empty streets of North Fort.  As she came to the end of the main road, she stopped.  One home stood out from the shoddy, crooked farmer’s huts.  It sat atop a hill that overlooked the entire village.  It housed Lord Doran or Protector Fendrel whenever they came to stay.  Both Lord Doran and Protector Fendrel lived mostly in Laydon but from time to time, they would come to North and South Fort and stay for a few weeks to make certain any issues with the villagers were settled. 

              Rhada leaned against a wooden post on a side street and peered up at the house.  Its windows were darkened and even the maid’s quarters that were nestled next to the house were dark and quiet.  Rhada was thankful for this.  She had no desire to see either Lord Doran or Protector Fendrel.  One of the last times she had laid eyes on either of them was on the battlefield.  She remembered Fendrel’s eyes as she ordered fire to be put to South Fort.  He flashed her a gaze that suggested he planned to hunt her down before he disappeared into the forest.  Of course, it wasn’t until a year after the war had ended that Protector Fendrel or Lord Doran reappeared.  It was the King’s desire to pardon any who came and re-swore their fealty to him- a gesture even Rhada felt was unusually kind for the King.  Lord Doran and Protector Fendrel were amongst those who came crawling back with their tails between their legs.  Both bowed to the King and Queen at the same time but when they stood, Protector Fendrel’s eyes fell on Rhada and shot her the same look she had seen him give her the previous year.  She had not seen either of them since.  Both ran back to South Fort and began rebuilding. 

              A sudden shiver ran down Rhada’s spine as she gazed up at the empty house. She felt her heart begin to pound and Bloodbinder started to vibrate once more against her leg.

She breathed heavily as she stared through the dark towards the house.  She looked down and noticed her hands begin to shake but it was not from fright that they shook.  Anger rose up inside of her like the flames of a burning pyre, building in her chest and pumping its way to her head, making her face feel hot.  She narrowed her eyes and reached for the hilt of her sword. 
They deserve to be punished! 
She thought to herself as she stared at the empty house that now mocked her.  She took one step forward, wishing to race up to the house and burn it to the ground.  Even though neither Lord Doran nor Protector Fendrel was there, they would get the message when they looked upon the ashes. 

              Rhada took another step and another until someone grabbed her arm from behind.  She whirled, pulled Bloodbinder from its scabbard and slashed at the darkness around her.  She heard someone cry out and suddenly, she saw his face- Fendrel.  He stood before her with pleading eyes and she knew what she had to do- what she wanted to do.  She wanted him dead.  She wanted to be the one to end his life.  She shouted and swung her sword again but he dodged this time and jumped away from her.

              “Rhada?”  It was a familiar voice that spoke but not Fendrel’s.  “What is the matter with you?” 

              Rhada stopped, lowered Bloodbinder to her side and felt her rage vanish just as quickly as it had arrived.  She breathed heavily and stared into the dark until the face she thought belonged to Fendrel emerged.  It was not Fendrel but Mayvard, staring intently into her eyes with bewilderment.  He held his sword up in defense but stood motionless as he watched her.

              “Mayvard?”  She asked confused.  She could hardly believe her eyes.  “I…”  She could not find the words to defend her actions.  “I thought you were Fendrel.  I thought you came to attack me.”

              “No.”  Mayvard said, lowering his sword and shaking his head.  “You are letting your nerves get the best of you.”  Mayvard re-sheathed his sword and stepped next to Rhada, grabbing her arm gently and softening his gaze.  He pulled at her leathers to give her wounds one more look and frowned. 

              “You promised me you would see a healer.”

              “I doubt any would see me this late.”  She said, pulling away from him in embarrassment.

              “They would tend to the High Protector if commanded to.”  Mayvard stepped back and studied her pale face, wondering if perhaps the infection was altering her senses. 

“We will go to the healer tonight.  Your injuries cannot wait another day.”  He commanded as though he were an angry father giving instructions to a deviant child.  “But first, come back to the inn.  We must talk.”

              Rhada nodded, replaced Bloodbinder in its scabbard and let Mayvard guide her back to the inn.  In her shame for attacking him, she allowed him to give commands without complaint.  The realization that she very easily could have killed him had he not been so deft was too much for her to bear.  She looked behind her as she walked and gazed one last time at the house on the hill. 
How can merely looking at a house cause me to act with such violence? 
Rhada never asked her question aloud.

She stepped into the inn after Mayvard and found it was occupied with new patrons; three men, all standing at the bar with their backs turned towards the entrance. From the look of them, Rhada could tell they had been riding hard for days.  Their cloaks were in tatters and their boots and faces were streaked with mud.  Rhada stood behind them and Mayvard grasped one of them by the shoulder.