Soulblade: An Epic Fantasy Adventure Romance (A Dance of Fire and Shadow Book 4)
Soulblade: Chapter 8

I COIL SARINDER’S ROPE in the storeroom and hide it more efficiently than the previous effort by a fourteen year old prince. I hope he takes the hint if he is still planning any future midnight excursions to visit my sister in Yarkfold or the capital. At least the immediate risks should be reduced once Alina leaves here to start work with Kashia in Corinium.

Waiting for Marin and Nem to join me in the hidden passageway is nerve-wracking. All I can think about are the dozens of ways in which their clandestine visit might have been discovered. When they finally arrive, Marin is silent and subdued and it is Nem who takes the lead. Her memory of all the underground twists and turns is impressive, along with her pre-prepared message to the guards, passing on the grateful thanks from the King for their long hours of faithful service in this dark and dismal tunnel.

Lupine is waiting in the forest at the mouth of the exit cave and leads us away from the Manor, avoiding the place where we left Brac and the horses. The new camp is concealed in a cluster of huge boulders, not far from the area of forest that Zandar recently burned to ash.

Brac is roasting venison over a small fire, his broad shoulders blotting out the flames as he pushes fresh sticks into the embers. He turns as he hears us approach.

“It’s a relief t’ see you back again. I never saw so many armed patrols in all that time we were here before the battle. Seems they think t’ traitor Farang might make another move against this place. So I moved our horses out beyond their perimeter.”

“Thank you Brac.” Nem settles herself by the fire and casts hungry eyes on the roasting food. “Has there been no sign of Deris?”

“Not back yet. Lupine has been scouting for him as well as for you. Didn’t you see him inside t’ Manor?”

“Only briefly. He distracted the guards to help us get into Tandarion’s apartment without being seen. Then he went to meet with the Eldrin commanders.”

Brac hands out chunks of venison and bread. Marin takes his and moves away from the firelight to sit leaning against a tree. I follow him and sit close beside him in the half-darkness, searching for a way to encourage him to talk about what happened inside Blackthorn. I watch him running his fingers over the hilt of the sword he brought with him from the Manor.

“Did your father give you that sword?”

Marin turns it over slowly, almost absently, watching the moving flames reflecting on the hilt. It is old, and finely-wrought, worthy of a King’s gift. He seems to relax a little, a wistful smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

“This weapon is an heirloom of our family, passed on when each new King is crowned. Something I could avoid in my own false coronation because I did not need it.” He grips the hilt, almost reluctantly. “I suppose I do need it now. My father said he is too old––and Sarinder is too young––to have the strength to wield it, but he insisted that I must return alive from Rapathia to make sure my nephew can be presented with it when…” He hesitates. “My father looks so frail and old now. I fear it will not be long before Sarinder has to take his place.”

“I could tell you were worried your father would die while you were away in Rapathia, before you could make your peace. I think the others guessed the same thing. Why they were so quick to help you.”

He glances across the clearing to where Nem is finishing the last of her supper.

“Nem was amazing. She even persuaded the Eldrin bodyguard stationed inside the apartment that we had secret plans to discuss, so that she could insist on switching places with him until it was time for us to leave. She knew I was desperate to beg my father’s forgiveness for what I did. But it could have revealed to the guards who I am––and that I’m still alive.”

“I’m guessing Tandarion did forgive you?”

Marin falls silent for a few moments. When he replies, his words are heavy with sadness. “He refused to even accept that I had done anything wrong. All he wanted was to beg my forgiveness for branding me a traitor. Jantian had already warned him what might happen if I returned from the battle against his advice. He reminded my father that as King, he had to give the appearance of strength and a determination to deliver justice.” He grips my hand. “Even if I never see him again, at least we had a chance to make peace with each other. I’m glad you and Nem pushed me into––”

I interrupt before he can say it. “We didn’t disobey orders. We simply used our initiative to gather additional information. I discovered that Kashia has been sending her news from Corinium directly to Alina.”

“With Nightwing?”

“Yes. And she has recalled Alina to the capital to help with the hunt for Farang’s collaborators. My sister will leave soon with her Eldrin bodyguards.”

“You sound worried about her.”

“Out on the road, in the aftermath of war and violent raids, with a traitor on the loose? Who wouldn’t be?” I hesitate, hoping Marin won’t take this as a lack of confidence in Alina’s Eldrin protectors. “I asked Shadow to use his mirror and watch over her. He is still the most fearsome fighter in Samaran.”

Marin frowns, but I can tell it is out of concern for my sister.

“You still trust him that much?”

“Alina said the same thing. But it is in Shadow’s interest to keep me on his side, to negotiate with Jantian.” I take the silver bowl out of its leather bag at my waist. “I should start to learn how to use this, so I can watch over her as well. Except that if I’m in darkest Rapathia, I won’t be able to return in time to help her.”

Marin takes the bowl from me and turns it until the silver serpent around the rim catches red flashes of firelight. Held like that in his battle-scarred hands, it looks even smaller than before.

“Marin? Do you know anything about how to use it?”

“Not really. Things like this featured in a few old stories my mother told me when I was a child.”

“Anything would help. Better than nothing at all. I have to start somewhere.”

“Far-seeing in those stories was something that usually involved focusing single-pointedly on whoever or whatever you wanted to spy on.”

“So you could only see someone you already knew?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it’s simply easier than reaching out into the unknown.”

“In that case I should start with Alina.” I fill the bowl from my water-skin and focus on willing my sister to appear on the smooth surface of the water. Nothing shows there except the reflection of stars in a deep blue sky, far above the trees.

Marin cups his hands around mine and his touch sends ripples of warmth coursing through my body. I have no sense that he is helping to induce the vision but his closeness feels comforting, as if we are both clinging to something positive we can work on together. Something to banish the painful past and uncertain future far away into the night-shadows.

For tonight at least.

WE LEAVE AT FIRST LIGHT, taking the road down into the lowlands and on to Corinium. Closer to the capital, the devastating scale of the damage inflicted by the invaders becomes apparent. On either side of the road, burned-out villages and empty barns lie in ruins and are mainly deserted. Here and there a few gaunt figures pick through the wreckage, trying to gather pieces of their old lives back together in the hope of surviving long enough to plant another harvest.

Marin’s face is impassive but I can sense the burning anger behind the apparent calm. I know he feels that he failed in his responsibility to protect the country––and I also know it will be no use trying to persuade him that anticipating the treachery of someone as high-placed as Lord Farang was beyond anyone’s reach.

Deris reins in to bring his mount alongside ours, his sharp eyesight scanning our surroundings as dusk falls.

“Marin, I think we should overnight in one of these villages instead of the forest. I sense trouble on these roads and even a half-ruin is better than nothing.”

Marin simply nods agreement and turns his horse to the next straggle of buildings at the wayside. The barns and sties are roofless but some of the cottages seem relatively undamaged. An old woman pauses in her search for dry firewood and watches us approach. She eyes us warily, her voice sharp and anxious.

“There is nothing left to steal here, so begone. And if you harm a single soul in this place then I, Rian, will curse you through this life and far into the realms of death.”

Marin dismounts and speaks softly, as if to reassure.

“We seek only shelter for the night and water for the horses. And we can pay for it if needed.”

“You think we can eat gold?”

Rian turns away, muttering, and I catch some derisive comments about the ignorant nobility who are too far removed from the lives of ordinary people to understand how things really work around here.

Marin must have heard it too, because he heaves the bundle of supplies out of his saddlebags and offers it to her.

“We can pay you with food.”

She turns back, slowly. “No tricks. We already had enough of those.”

“No tricks.” He waits while she returns and examines the offering. Bread, cheese, dried fruit. Enough for the five of us for two days travel. I wonder how many souls are left in this ruined place and how much each will get if it is shared.

The woman’s rheumy eyes suddenly focus on me with a new intensity, as if she heard my thoughts.

“There are ten of us here. Three elders, trying to care for seven abandoned children. The men taken away to fight and the mothers killed by raiders. Come. This way.”

My knees are shaking as I follow her to one of the damaged buildings. Maybe her answer was mere coincidence––or maybe she has the Sight and her threat of laying a curse on us was no idle bluff.

I peer inside her offered hospitality. Half the roof has survived, leaving one small room sheltered and dry––which is a relief as black stormclouds are deepening the evening gloom. Rian stands in the doorway, clutching her bag of goods.

“You can tether your horses outside. The trough will hold water but you will have to bring it from the stream.”

I sidle closer to her, still intimidated but curious to learn if she really is a seer.

“Thank you, Rian. Can I borrow a bucket?”

“This way.” She turns and picks her way through the rubble and wreckage that passes for a village street. A double knock on the door of a nearby house and a wide-eyed child opens it to let us in.

The large single room might be the only other shelter in the village to boast an undamaged roof and the ten survivors have been gathering any salvage they can find to turn it into…

I take a second look around. They are not, as I first assumed, trying to rebuild a comfortable living space.

They are building a fortress.

“Rian, it looks like you are expecting another attack. Who is coming for you?”

She lets out a snort of derision. “Everyone! First it was that cursed General Dragar and his army on their requisitioning raids. Then it was Rapathian deserters. Or Samarian deserters. In between there are even a few of the regular bandits.” She hands me a wooden bucket. “Bring it back. We only have two.”

“Surely. Once the horses have had their fill.” I hurry back to find Marin setting twigs in the fireplace. The others have disappeared. I glance through the tiny window to the empty street beyond. “Marin, where are the others?”

“Fetching wood. Without food, we’ll feel the cold tonight unless we make a good fire.”

“Rian’s people are fortifying their house. She says they are being raided all the time. There could be bandits or deserters out there already.”

“I guessed as much. The state of the roads, this place, her defensiveness. Deris’ Elf-sense of threat is rarely mistaken. But the others are forewarned. Be quick about your water-carrying.”

By the time the horses have drunk their fill and the water skins replenished, our barren room has been prepared with a pile of dry firewood inside and a barricade of rocks outside the doorway. The others have gone back out for more wood. Marin comes with me to return the bucket, hurrying through the rain to reach Rian’s house.

She is waiting by the door. “Did you see anyone outside?”

Marin takes one last look back at the darkening street.

“Not yet, but we did sense there might be some threat out there. We can protect you this night, but I regret that we cannot stay longer.”

She seems resigned. “We live here for one day at a time. Then we will probably die.”

He hands her the borrowed bucket. “The Samarian army will reach you in a few days. They are bringing prisoners of war to work on the rebuilding and replanting.”

Rian shrugs bony shoulders. “No use. We cannot feed them. We can barely feed ourselves.”

“Rian, listen. There is hope. The King received a message yesterday that food will arrive from Annubia soon. If you can hold out until then, you will survive.”

She looks at him with new eyes. “And who might you be, young man, to be talking with royalty?”

“Just an army commander tasked with trying to repair the war damage.”

“Hmph. You’ll be an old man before that’s done with.”

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