Assassin's Shadow (Veiled Dagger Book 2) (13 page)

Taria had been surprised to find how free she felt in the King’s City, unencumbered and unknown.

With her hood pulled up and her face downturned, she moved like a ghost through the affluent streets of the upper city. She watched from a distance the growing looting and rioting that was terrorizing the nobility that lived in lavish homes along the tree lined avenues. Not an eye turned towards the shadowed and nimble Southland woman as she moved through the streets like a stray cat. She had not realized how stifling the castle had been, although she had only spent a few hours within it’s walls.

She supposed that her aversion to the castle was a part of her nature. In all her life, she had never known royalty to fortify itself within walls of stone, in fact, no one in her world had lived behind solid walls. In the badlands, everyone had a tent. The size of your tent reflected your standing in society. The fact that the King of her new “home” lived in such a massive edifice made her feel even more out of place in the King’s City. Taria wondered if she would ever feel truly at home again.

She shimmied up another tree and sat on a comfortable branch and watched as, nearby, a group of rioters was ransacking the contents of a fine, large house.

This is really no different that any other day in this life,
she thought.
The rich steal from the poor until the poor have nothing left, and then they set out to take something back. But when the rich steal from the the poor, it is called business; when the poor take from the rich, they are beaten and arrested.

Taria climbed down from the tree and walked on. She let her feet carry her wherever they wished to go. She kept to the shadows and back alleys, and if anybody noticed her, they did not seem to care. The world was coming unraveled, and the only good thing about it was that it afforded Taria so much freedom.

She stopped at Rothar’s house and built a small fire in the fireplace, warming herself, for the night had grown cold. She ate a little, slept little, and rose again before the sun was up. After stowing a few rations in a bag and taking up her bow, Taria set out again, only this time she traveled away from the city.

Entering the Banewood, Taria transitioned back into the survival mode that had kept her alive all of those years in the desert. Her senses became heightened and she strode stealthily through the underbrush, dodging Quietus vines and scrambling over downed trees.
This is more like it,
she thought.

She did not know where she was going, but followed her heart. In time, she came to a small clearing that was split in half by a peacefully babbling brook. Near the water, there was a large rise in the ground, marked with a crude wooden cross. Taria went and sat on the mound, studying the marker. An inscription had been hastily caved into the cross with a blade.

“
Here lies Brath. Thief. Hero. Bastard. Friend.
”

Taria read the words aloud and came to stop abruptly at the end when she realized who’s grave she was sitting on. It was the man who’s head she had held for Bakal. Even now, the mere thought of the Southland chief brought a chill to her spine and an ill feeling to the pit of her stomach. She had to remind herself that the fiend was dead. Bakal may have lived within walls of canvas, but he himself had been hard, through and through.

A piercing call shattered the silence. Looking up, Taria saw a falcon circling high above, beneath the ancient canopy of the Banewood. How the bird had found her, she knew not, but Peregrin’s falcon descended and landed softly beside her. She untied the scrap of paper from around the bird’s leg and read:

Rothar is afflicted. We are returning to the King’s City by the Fawn’s Trail.

-Peregrin

Taria’s heart froze. Afflicted? What did that even mean? She jumped to her feet and immediately rushed off though the wood. She wished she had stolen a horse from Castle Staghorn, but she had wished to depart quietly. Taria felt confident that she could find the Fawn’s Trail. She had traveled on it with the huntsmen during her short time with them.

The Fawn’s Trail cut the Banewood neatly in two, east and west through the forest. It was thusly named because it was a subtle trail, those unfamiliar with the Banewood would likely not even notice it. Taria did not know how long it had taken the falcon to find her, but she was certain that if she reached the Fawn’s Trail and headed east, she would meet the huntsmen - and Rothar - on their return.

To get her bearings, Taria selected the tallest tree she could find and climbed to the top. From her vantage point in the crown of the tree, she could barely make out the peak of the tallest tower at Castle Staghorn, assuring her of which direction was due west. Turning to the east, Taria had to shield her eyes against the rising sun. She blinked to remove the dark sunspots from her vision, but the spots remained. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly again, and when she opened them, the spots were larger. Taria gasped, she was not seeing spots in her vision, but dark orbs in the sky, and they were heading right for her.

Taria scrambled a few feet back down the tree, getting below the top of the canopy and nearly losing her footing in the process. She regained her balance and clung to a mighty limb, feeling her heart pounding in her chest as a low humming sound reached her ears. She remained motionless as the floating orbs blocked out the sun and droned overhead.

Moving only her eyes, she inspected the impossible objects. Massive, spherical structured with canvasses in browns and reds patched together over what seemed to be a giant framework. There were at least half a dozen of the infernal contraptions, and at the bottom of each one hung a wooden box about the size of a large coffin. From the top edges of the boxes Taria could see men’s heads poking out, eyes gazing down at the ground or off into the distance.

When the last of the flying objects had passed over, they continued on and the humming faded to silence. Taria willed herself to climb back to the top and have one last look. She could see the orbs, shrinking into the distance, headed directly for the King’s City.

Allette felt as though she had walked every passageway of Castle Staghorn three times over, and it was only just mid morning. Her search for Taria had begun in the middle of the night, when she awoke from a terrible dream to see that the Southland woman was gone, and her bed had not been slept in.

At first, Allette had just assumed that Taria was restless and had gone out to stretch her legs, but after a couple of hours of roaming the halls, Allette had begun to panic. She had asked every refugee she came across if they had seen Taria. Surely, something as exotic as a Southland woman could not walk these halls unseen. Several people reported that they had in fact seen her the evening before, but said that she seemed to be contently roaming the grounds, and no one saw where she had gone.

Now, with the sun climbing higher in the sky, she felt fear grip her chest as she considered the possibility of what she must do. With Taria missing she had no choice but to report the disappearance to King Heldar.

She informed a uniformed soldier of the situation, who instructed her to sit and wait in her chambers as he relayed the message. Even the soldier seemed worried by the news, and Allette suspected that the castle guard had been given special instructions to watch over Rothar’s woman. Her disappearance would not bode well for them.

Esme came into the room. It was the first time Allette had seen her awake since the night before.

“Where is Taria?” asked the young girl.

Allette sighed and hugged the book of remedies. “I wish that I knew, Esme. It seems that she slipped away in the night.”

“But why would she do that? Doesn't she want to be safe?” Esme asked.

Allette thought for a moment before answering. “I think she does want to feel safe, and I think that is why she left. Taria seems to me to be a woman of great ability. I doubt there is much in this world that she fears, but I do not think she felt at ease here.”

Esme cocked her head to one side. “Who could feel at ease here, besides royalty?”

Allette laughed lightly. “You are wise beyond your years, Esme.”

Esme smiled and settled down on the floor to play with some dolls that had been brought for her at the Queen’s request. Allette thought about how the fine china dolls were probably the most valuable thing the little girl had ever played with, and for a instant she imagined that she understood Taria’s determination to leave the safe confines of Castle Staghorn.

At that moment, the soldier she had spoken to before appeared in the doorway. He looked dejected and a little shocked.

“His Highness has been informed,” was all he said, and he walked away.

Allette looked at the floor. She had done all that she could do for now. She opened the book of remedies and continued to study.

***

Harwin entered the throne room hesitantly. It was the first time he had ever been summoned into the cavernous chamber alone, and he felt rather small, for such a large man. The King sat alone on the platform, Queen Amelia was nowhere around. King Heldar saw Harwin and beckoned to him.

“Come forward, noble Harwin,” spoke the King.

Harwin felt himself flush a little. To be called noble by the King himself was quite a thing. In the moment, Harwin felt a renewed awe at Rothar’s ability to walk in both worlds. His friend was very much at home in Witherington, and yet his frequent visits to the castle never daunted him, and his rapport with King Heldar was so easy.

Harwin approached the throne and bowed deeply.

“Your Highness, how may I be of service to you?”

Heldar waved off the bow. It seemed he had never quite acquired a taste for the gesture.

“It has come to my attention that our dear Taria has… how shall I put it… taken leave,” spoke Heldar.

Harwin’s brow wrinkled with concern. “Oh my, that is upsetting.”

“Indeed,” replied Heldar. “I have dispatched as many men as I can spare to seek her out and bring her back to safety. I wanted to inform you so that you might keep your eyes open for her as well.”

Harwin nodded. “I see.”

King Heldar must have heard something in Harwin’s tone, because he asked, “What is it, Harwin?”

Harwin hesitated and cleared his throat. “Well, your Highness, I have only just met Taria but from what I have heard about the woman from Rothar, you are wasting your time in searching for her. If she does not want to be found, she will not be found.”

The King sighed and stared at the air beyond Harwin. “I was afraid that may be the case. At any rate, I have men out there looking for her.”

“With all respect, sire, those men might be better used in Witherington. It has gotten quite bad there.”

“It has gotten bad everywhere,” replied Heldar, suddenly irritated. He then paused and collected himself. “Very well, I will send word that my men are to contain the violence in Witherington, but you must promise me that you will try to find the woman.”

“I promise, your Highness.”

Peregrin rode at the head of the line as the huntsmen again entered the Banewood, heading west. The ragged group was relieved to be back on familiar ground, and they removed their soggy overclothes as they rode.

The journey back across the Andrelicas had been even more grueling than the first, as the men had been forced to travel more slowly with the still unconscious Rothar balanced on Stormbringer’s saddle. Now, as they rode towards the head of the Fawn’s Trail, Peregrin sensed that some of the men behind him were not pleased with his decision to return so soon.

Peregrin could not bring himself to say it aloud, but the condition of Rothar upon his return told him much about the fate of his missing brethren. If Rothar, the King’s finest assassin, came back across that desert not only defeated, but without blood on his blade, then the abducted huntsmen were most surely dead.

He knew that Stone in particular was sore about not going on in pursuit of the others, and Peregrin understood his emotions. Stone’s oldest friend had been the leader of the scouting troupe that was lost. However, Peregrin was not at all interested in getting any more of his brethren killed. While he had every intention of returning to the red desert, and soon, he would not be foolish enough to do so without Rothar.

Stone spoke softly to Dewitt at the back of the line, and Peregrin heard every word perfectly. When he reached the peak of a rise in the trail, Peregrin stopped and turned his horse around. From his vantage point, he could see every man in the convoy behind him.

“Do you not think that I grieve for our brothers?” Peregrin spoke loudly, leveling his gaze at Stone.

The contingent was silent, so Peregrin continued. “I have pledged my life to this family, and I would die defending it. But why would I lead you blindly into the mouth of death?”

Stone finally spoke up. “You know not what lies beyond the red sands!”

“I know enough,” Peregrin shot back, pointing a finger at Rothar, draped neatly over Stormbringer’s back, muttering softly.

“Do you think yourself mightier than this man? A finer warrior?” Peregrin continued. The huntsmen were silent once more, some of them turning to look at Stone, wondering if he would reply. He did not.

“If anyone doubts my decisions, they should feel free to take another path. But any man who rides with me must trust me: we shall return to that hellish desert, but we will return ready for war.”

With that, Peregrin turned and spurred his horse westward, continuing towards the King’s City on the Fawn’s Trail. Wordlessly, the huntsmen followed.

The riders continued through the Banewood throughout the day. When shadows began to gather and the light grew dim, Peregrin ordered the men to light torches. They would ride through the night.

Riding by torchlight in the Banewood was, as a rule, never done. Torches made travelers easily visible from a distance, and marauding bands of thieves that called the wood home could all too easily waylay a caravan before the riders knew what was upon them. Peregrin was well aware that, since the demise of the fairly noble Brath, lesser clans were making bids for supremacy in the Banewood, and the informal pecking order that had long stood was now in shambles. However, with Rothar’s ailment being a mystery, and time being such a factor, he decided that the huntsmen had no choice but to take their chances in the darkness.

The going was slow in the wavering light, but it was better than making no progress at all. The huntsmen spoke not at all, and the only sounds, save for the hooting of owls and the skittering of night creatures, was the hissing of torches and the stamping of the horse’s hooves as the weary men picked their way through the haunting trees.

The horses skidded and protested when the path fell steeply into a shallow ravine. A small creek ran though the bottom and the riders paused to let their steeds drink. Peregrin sat up straight as his ears caught a subtle sound on the wind. It was a shuffling, not like an animal, but hurried… and approaching. He snatched his bow from his back. His companions took notice and followed suit. The sounds ceased and the night was still again, too still for Peregrin’s instincts. No night birds chirped, and the horses lifted their heads from the brook.

A hoarse cry split the darkness, followed by a chorus of hoots and howls. More than a dozen men spilled over both edges of the ravine and sprinted down the steep banks, weapons raised. Peregrin let loose an arrow and wounded the nearest attacker, piercing his thigh. The marauders approached liked spiders, quick and wily.

The other huntsmen took aim and fired. Gamble killed a man at twenty paces and notched a new arrow in one motion, knocking down another that was closing in on Trevitt, who had leapt off his mount to join his brother in hand-to-hand combat with the fast approaching scoundrels. The twins swung their torches like clubs, smashing the glowing ends against the skulls of the whooping and cursing shadows that lunged at them. Sparks flew, shadows screamed, arrows whistled through the air, and men died.

The huntsmen were outnumbered but were dispatching the bandits handily before the group was befell upon by a tangle of heavy rope. The net blanketed the huntsmen and made it near impossible to get off a shot with a bow or strike a blow against an enemy.

The whirling mass of thieves stilled themselves and began to laugh at the encumbered huntsmen. The leader stepped forward and addressed Peregrin.

“Huntsmen, eh?” said the wiry man. “Ye should know better than to travel the Banewood at night.”

“We have an urgent matter,” replied Peregrin in a measured tone, though he was more than a little angry. “We have an ill man, in need of help. We must get him to the King’s City.”

The leader looked at Rothar and then shook his head dismissively. “Nay, he is the least of your worries. I am the new king of the Banewood, and I say ye shall not pass.”

The poacher lifted his sword towards Peregrin, reaching through the net to touch the tip of the blade against his chin.

“My lot has been pushed around by the huntsmen for long enough,” he continued. “But Brath is gone, and the law of the land is changing. The new law, my law, demands that blood be shed for transgressions and trespasses.”

The man pressed harder with the tip of the sword, a thin line of blood trickled down Peregrin’s neck. Suddenly, the self proclaimed king of the Banewood, straightened up, his eyes went wide and he emitted a strained sound. He slowly turned around in a half circle, the shaft of an arrow stuck between his shoulder blades.

Before anyone could react, another arrow hissed into the ravine, striking one of the bandits in the neck. At the back of the line, Dewitt and Trevitt freed themselves from the net and set to work hacking the ropes away from the rest of the group. The remaining thieves were too busy frantically searching the shadows for the archer, and took little notice of the emancipated huntsmen until Gamble planted an arrow in one man’s eye and Dewitt caved in the skull of another.

With the help of their unknown ally, the huntsmen ended the fight in short order, with the last man dying under Peregrin’s longsword. Quiet returned to the night and the huntsmen stood, scanning the darkness.

“Who are you?” called out Peregrin.

Silently, a slender silhouette stepped out from behind a tree at the top of the ravine. The figure gracefully moved down the slope and stepped into the light.

“Taria!” exclaimed Peregrin. “Whatever are you doing out here?”

Shame mixed with excitement and surprise as Peregrin realized that she had come out of worry for Rothar. He felt ashamed for bringing back her love in such a condition, and ashamed for causing her to endanger herself in such a way. A lone woman, at night, in the Banewood.

Taria said nothing, she only rushed past the men and took Rothar’s face in her hands. She whispered something into his ear that none of the others could make out. To everyone’s surprise, and for the first time since the red desert, Rothar’s eyes flickered open. They remained open for only a moment, just long enough to gaze back into Taria’s before fluttering shut again. The sight gave Peregrin new hope that his friend would recover, and also firmly reinforced something that he already knew to be true: he was hers, and she was his.