Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road (single books) Page 6

  “I made them,” Ilvani said before Ashok could answer.

  “I see.” Darnae stood and went to one of the tables. She brought back a sheet of parchment, quill, and ink. Dipping the quill in the black liquid, she drew a quick sketch of one of the symbols Ashok had seen carved on Ilvani’s arm.

  “Do you know what it means?” Ashok said.

  Darnae sighed and nodded. “The language belongs to the peoples of northeastern Faerun-a high, cold, and mysterious country. Have you ever heard of Rashemen?”

  Ashok shook his head, but Ilvani stared at Darnae steadily. “Snow and spirits,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Darnae. “I’ve never traveled there myself, but put simply, that’s what Rashemen is, and that’s what this symbol means-’spirit.’ Their people worship the spirits of the land.”

  “Telthor,” Ilvani said quietly.

  Darnae nodded. “That’s the Rashemi name for them.”

  “How do you know about the spirits, Ilvani?” Ashok asked.

  “The woman told me,” Ilvani said. “The snow rabbit. The unproven. She tried to tell me more, but the darkness and the storm came between us.”

  “The dust storm?” Ashok said. “You mean the same one that caught the caravan?”

  Ilvani shook her head. “I see her in my dreams. The storm is in my dreams. It swallows us up.”

  “The woman you saw might be one of the witches,” Darnae said. “They rule Rashemen and command the magic of the spirits.”

  “But how is she able to contact Ilvani across an entire world, and why?” Ashok said.

  Darnae shrugged. “Rashemi magic is said to be powerful. Whatever the witch’s reasons-”

  “She’s in danger,” Ilvani said. “She asked me to help her, but I couldn’t.”

  “It’s not only her,” Ashok said. He told Darnae what had happened earlier that day. When he’d finished, Darnae looked more concerned than ever.

  “I’m so sorry, my friend,” she said, laying a small hand on Ashok’s arm. Ashok looked down at her tiny fingers and remembered how fragile she was-a child but not a child.

  “I thought if you could decipher the symbols, we might be able to figure out why this is happening,” Ashok said. “But you can’t fight dreams.” He should know. The nightmare’s haunted visions had tested and beaten him once.

  “There is something we haven’t considered,” Darnae said. “The shadow beasts and the shadar-kai are connected to the Shadowfell, which is itself a world of spirits. The witches of Rashemen have a similar connection to their telthors, and if some force is disturbing the natural order on the Shadowfell plane-”

  “Then it’s possible something similar is happening to them in Faerun,” Ashok said.

  It explained the pattern of the madness. The common animals in the trade district had been unaffected by Ilvani’s presence, and the shadow snake, the one that had tried to escape from Cree and Skagi, was smaller than its two-headed companion, weaker in mind perhaps and less connected to the Shadowfell and its influence.

  “It could be the witch is reaching out to Ilvani to try to understand what’s happening.” Ashok looked at Ilvani to see what she thought of this, but the witch had stretched out on the floor with her head resting on her bandaged arm. She was asleep.

  “She looks exhausted,” Darnae said. “Her dreams must be terrible.”

  “It’s strange, though. I’ve never seen her as peaceful as she looks right now,” Ashok said. On the plain, she’d been broken, ready to die. Now she slept like a child, and she’d been more coherent speaking to Darnae than to anyone else. “Something about your presence calmed her.”

  “I don’t think it has anything to do with me,” Darnae said. “But this building …”

  “Ilvani seemed fascinated by the traces of magic.”

  “It’s possible the magic was once protective in nature,” Darnae said. “If that’s true, then its echoes might be creating a barrier to the Shadowfell forces.”

  “Whatever it’s doing, I’m grateful,” Ashok said. “She deserves some peace.”

  “So do you,” Darnae observed.

  Ashok shook his head. “Not until I find a way to stop what’s happening to her. This Rashemi witch wasn’t invited into her dreams.”

  He took off his cloak and laid it over Ilvani’s sleeping body, taking care not to touch her. It was time to talk to Uwan and decide what action to take. He knew the leader would do everything in his power to protect Ilvani, if for no other reason than to safeguard her connection to Tempus.

  “You should leave her here,” Darnae said. “Let her sleep while she can. I’ll watch over her.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “I’ll be back for her soon.”

  She offered him a fleeting smile. “Someday, at a more peaceful time, we will have that wine together.”

  He clasped her small hand. “I’d like nothing better.”

  Ashok found Skagi in the training yard, which was empty now. The recruits were occupied with other duties. Skagi had his falchion out and waved it in a series of midair strokes, but the movements were restless, with an edge that belied his calm exterior.

  “What news?” he asked Ashok. “Where is the witch?”

  “Safe,” Ashok said. “Our guess was right. Somehow, she’s causing the Shadowfell beasts to go mad, but the threat comes from her dreams.” He related what Darnae had told him.

  Skagi cursed and sheathed his falchion. “What do we do about it?”

  Ashok spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness. He sympathized with the warrior. Like Skagi, he wanted an enemy in front of him, a clear target he could attack. Right now, they had neither.

  Suddenly the door to the tower opened, and Uwan came out. The leader saw the two of them, and his expression darkened.

  “I have news,” Ashok said, but Uwan made a sharp gesture, cutting him off.

  “Don’t bother,” he said. “I’ve spoken to the Sworn of the Wall. She told me the whole tale, which was your duty, not hers. All I want to hear now is where Ilvani is.”

  Ashok told him, including his conversation with Darnae.

  The leader’s expression softened somewhat. “I’m sorry to hear of Olra’s death,” Uwan said. “She was one of the finest Camborrs I’ve ever seen. Tempus will guide her soul to its rest.”

  Ashok felt his rage rekindled at the mention of the god’s name. A tremor went through his body, an impulse to strike out at Uwan that he’d never felt before. “If Tempus had been more attentive, he might have saved her life,” he said bitterly.

  Naked anger showed on Uwan’s face, exactly as Ashok intended. He grabbed Ashok’s breastplate and yanked him forward. “You question Tempus’s will, after all He’s done on your behalf?” Uwan said. “You speak out of grief and ignorance. I won’t hear it.”

  Uwan would hear nothing against Tempus. That was the worst part. Nothing would threaten the leader’s conviction that Ashok was favored by Tempus. In Ashok’s view, that made him little more than a toy to be manipulated and directed as the god saw fit.

  But Uwan had seen the proof with his own eyes, or so he claimed. Deep in the caves of Ikemmu, while he and Ashok fought for their lives against Vedoran, a vision had appeared. Uwan was convinced that Tempus had intervened that day to save Ashok’s life.

  “I didn’t ask for any god to act on my behalf,” Ashok said. He wrenched himself from Uwan’s grasp and stepped back to put some distance between them. “Remember our agreement. A Guardian-I serve Ikemmu, not Tempus.”

  “Yes, and as such, you should have come to me immediately when Ilvani was hurt,” Uwan said. “You earned your place in Ikemmu, but now you have to abide by the rules that come with the rank. I should have you both thrown in a cell until you learn your place.”

  “I’m to blame, not Skagi.” Ashok ignored the other man’s protests. “I wanted to help Ilvani. She’s safe with Darnae-”

  “Darnae? A halfling,” Uwan said, “who knows nothing of the shadar-kai and even less about Ilva
ni.”

  “She’s lived in this city a long time and breathes the Shadowdark air just like the rest of us,” Ashok said. “She knows the shadar-kai. Ilvani will be safe with her.”

  Uwan glared at him. “Your judgment is impaired where Ilvani is concerned. You know almost nothing about her needs or her nature, yet out of guilt you’ve taken her protection on yourself.”

  Ashok started to speak, then stopped. He knew Uwan was right. He didn’t know enough about Ilvani to understand what was going on in her mind.

  “Punish me however you want,” he said, “but what Darnae said about the Rashemi-is it possible she’s right?”

  “I know little about Rashemen and its witches,” Uwan said. “But Natan and I once spoke at length about Ilvani. Her brother knew her best. He told me that her ramblings are deceptive-there is meaning beneath them, but it’s indecipherable because no one among the shadar-kai can see as Ilvani does.”

  “She says she can see the telthors-the Rashemi spirits,” Ashok said.

  “I have no doubt she can. Natan believed that she could see much more,” Uwan said. “Just as he was a conduit to Tempus, so Ilvani has an intimate connection to the Shadowfell, the passage for the spirits of the dead. The shadar-kai, rightly, do not dwell on the shadowy paths of the soul. We fix our gaze on the light of Tempus. Natan told me Ilvani has no such luxury. There are spirits everywhere, existing in worlds hidden from our eyes.”

  “And Ilvani has a window into those other worlds,” Ashok said, understanding what the leader was getting at. If it were true, it would mean Ilvani’s mind was constantly being bombarded by images she couldn’t fully comprehend, let alone communicate to others. “Right now this Rashemi witch has a stronger connection to Ilvani than anyone else. We have to help her.”

  “Agreed,” Uwan said. He looked thoughtful. “Since we can’t pry into Ilvani’s dreams, the only course of action I can see is to send you and Ilvani to Rashemen.”

  “To the mirror world?” Ashok felt something stir in his blood.

  “It’s not as far away as it sounds,” Uwan said. “Trade caravans venture out from the Underdark often, and some of them pass through Rashemen. You’ll take a party and accompany one such caravan. Your mission will be to travel with it as far as Rashemen and then seek the counsel of the witches.”

  “Will they accept outsiders like us?” Ashok said.

  “You mean shadar-kai? If they won’t, you’ll have to convince them,” Uwan said. He gave a short laugh. “You’re certainly stubborn enough to find a way.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  THE VILLAGE OF TINNIR, RASHEMEN

  "Look here, Elina.” Sree led the child up to the pebbled stretch of shoreline and pointed to a cold-water minnow school swimming in the shallows. No bigger than the child’s fingers, they bobbed the surface of the gray water, mouths open in search of food.

  The little girl obediently went down on her knees to look at the darting fish, but it seemed to Sree that, as with everything else the child did, she was only acting to please the adults around her. She had barely spoken since her mother’s death and ate only what Sree put in front of her. Whenever Sree left the child to sit quietly by herself, Elina would stay there, unmoving, until the hathran came to find her again.

  Lake Tirulag scrolled away from them in the distance, its surface broken by a light, cold wind, and the dozens of boats that fished the lake for trout and crayfish. Dim sunshine shone through the stringy cloudbanks over the hills, but it was not a warm light. Ice patches had already formed in these shallow areas, trapping grass, dirt, and the unfortunate minnow or two, but Sree steered the child away from these sights and directed her gaze toward living things.

  Sunlight touched them, and the hathran crouched next to the child. “Do you see our reflections, Elina?” She pointed to the child’s face staring back at them impassively from the water. Above her shoulder hovered the hathran’s mask. The dark image made the symbols carved upon it indistinct. Sree couldn’t make out the leaping flames of the hearth or the mountain peaks that also symbolized the stone roofs of the homes here in Tinnir. Hearth and home, fire and mountain-all were a part of her; all were one.

  But did Elina see it that way? Reflected in the gray lake, the child saw a mask with a stranger’s eyes staring out. Elina knew, as did all Rashemi, that the witches were the trusted caretakers of the people, but did that include letting a stranger take the place of her mother? Sree could hardly expect Elina to trust her completely, not yet.

  Sree drew back, so that only Elina’s reflection was visible in the lake. “We must move on now,” she said. “Not far from here, a young woman is about to become a mother twice over. I must go to her and ask for Bhalla’s blessing upon the birth. Would you like to come and watch this miracle?”

  Elina nodded once and reached for Sree’s hand, but again the hathran saw no spark of emotion, no interest whatsoever in the world that continued to move while the child stood still. Sree led the child on by the lake, but in her heart, she prayed for guidance:

  Mother Bhalla, grant me patience, strength, and the will to be gentle with this child. As we wychlaran have been set apart from others, so too will this child be set apart from us. If she is destined to be an othlor, she will need your guidance.

  Sree ended the prayer with her traditional blessing, words she often spoke or sung, but this time recited in silence:

  Hearth and fire, home and mountain

  Path of those who came before

  Guard my spirit as I walk alone

  And I will watch for thee

  Sree felt a sense of peace and purpose settle over her. It will be all right, she thought. In time, all will be well.

  Then she heard the scream.

  The hut had whitewashed walls, a small garden dormant in preparation for winter, and a sheep paddock in back against the low-rising hills. The smell of damp wool and wood fire smoke filled the air. A dozen sheep clustered together at the back of the paddock, as far away from the screams as they could get.

  Sree didn’t stop to knock at the weather-beaten door-she flung it open and pulled Elina inside with her. With a brief glance she took in the hearth fire hung with a kettle of boiling water; the blood-soaked rags hastily discarded in a corner; the offerings to Bhalla and the lake spirits placed on the bedroom threshold. All of this was as it should be for the birthing, but the woman’s screams were screams of panic and terror, not the determined cries of a mother about to meet her children for the first time.

  Amid the screams, voices from the bedroom-including the village healer’s-tried to soothe and cajole the young woman to breathe, but Sree heard the carefully concealed desperation in the words.

  She found a stool near the fire and sat Elina upon it. No need to tell the child to stay put-Sree knew she would be there waiting when the ordeal was finished. She found soap and clean rags on a table in the corner and dipped one in the boiling water. After she’d washed her hands thoroughly, she went into the bedroom.

  Elina sat on the stool and watched the fire. The heat felt good on her cold nose, but the air in the house was too thick, and it smelled rotten. She would rather be back at home in her own bed.

  She sat on the stool, not moving, until her legs started to cramp from dangling just above the floor. She slid off and stumbled, scraping her knee against the floor. The scratches were red when she looked at them, and a drop of blood welled up. Elina watched it slide down the back of her leg.

  In the bedroom, the woman’s screams got louder. Elina put her hands over her ears to drown them out, but it didn’t help. The smell got worse too-it made her nose itch, and she knew she remembered it from somewhere. She tried to find something in the room to look at, but there was only the pile of red rags and the windows filmed over with dirt.

  “Bhalla, aid me!” The scream from the bedroom made Elina cower. She put her arms over her head and ran out of the house. She didn’t even realize what her feet had done until she stood in the dooryard, blinking in the watery
sunlight.

  There was no relief outside. Sheep ran around their paddock, wailing, crying, and frantically pushing one another to escape the screams from inside the house. Elina felt sorry for them, but she was frightened too. She saw a sheep chewing a fence post where the wood met the ground. It chewed and chewed until blood and spit dripped from its mouth. The animal’s eyes looked strange, as if they were blind.

  A ewe slammed its head into the fence post nearest Elina. She screamed, the ewe screamed, and Elina ran. She bolted around the side of the house, but the paddock and the sheep were everywhere. Against the side of the house was a tall woodpile. Elina found a slender gap between the stacked wood and the wall and crawled into it.

  The air smelled better here, earthy and moist. Wetness soaked through her wool skirt, but Elina hardly noticed. She lay down on the ground and covered her ears against the sheep cries. She could see through gaps in the woodpile their frantic, scuffling movements. Could they see her back here? What if that was why they were trying to get out of the paddock-to come after her? She wanted to close her eyes, but she was afraid they would get her when she wasn’t looking, so she pressed her face to a gap in the wood and watched.

  A single eye gazed back at her from the other side of the gap.

  Elina screamed and covered the hole with her hands. She pushed herself back and hit her head against the side of the house. Pain made her vision go dark for a minute. When she came back to herself, she felt gentle hands cradling her head and fingers stroking her hair.

  Sree, Elina thought. She came to find me.

  When she raised her head, it wasn’t Sree looking back at her, but a small figure with spindly arms and legs.

  Elina felt a new surge of fear. She breathed very fast, but the small creature shook its head and laid its hands-so much smaller and thinner compared to her own-on her arm in a soothing gesture. It was then Elina realized the creature was made of wood. The hands that touched her curved and were sharp like twigs snapped off a sapling. The creature’s hair was green and brown, alive with rare white heather blossoms, dirt, and earthworms. As Elina watched, more of the small flowers sprang up at different places on its body. The tiny thing both fascinated and repelled her, for it was unlike any creature she’d ever seen.