The Essence Gate War: Book 01 - Adept (16 page)

“It is getting dark,” Halthak said in a low tone, feeling foolish even as he stated the obvious
. “Will we halt soon?”

Amric gave a tight nod, his flint-gr
ey eyes flicking from side to side. “We are looking for a suitable place to stop.”

“
I––I apologize for the difficulty in healing you this morning,” the Half-Ork said. “I have spent much of the day considering its cause, and how I might prevent it in the future.”

“Do not fret over it,” Amric chuckled
. “I am not the most cooperative of patients, given my aversion to magic.”

Halthak shook his head
. “Valkarr shares that aversion, and administering to him felt no different than a thousand times before. No, your case was somehow different.”

“Have you any theories on the matter?” Amric
said, craning his neck to search the vegetation enclosing the trail behind them.

“At first I suspected your lack of aura, in which our friend Bellimar shows so much interest, as if you have an unnaturally low affinity for magic in general
. No matter how much I mull it over, however, it does not quite fit.”

“How so?”
Amric asked, sparing him a quick look askance.

Halthak frowned, pensive
. “Well, I have treated many people with no inherent ability to speak of, and it has never affected the application of my magic on them. I suspect those individuals had very weak auras, if what Bellimar says is true.”

“Bellimar did not say I had a
weak
aura,” Amric reminded him. “He said I had
no
aura whatsoever, unlike any person he has encountered before. You should not be troubled that your talent cannot easily reach someone forsaken by magic.”

“I have been turning that over in my mind as well,
but it does not explain what I felt when it occurred. I could accept it if my magic had seemed to have nowhere to go, as if no vessel existed on the other side of our contact, or even if I had faced a consistent level of resistance. Instead, I was blocked, turned aside as if my best efforts were feeble scratches against a wall of marble. Furthermore, I had the disturbing sense I was being watched, and that I did not break through but rather was
allowed
in after meeting some obscure approval. After that, it felt as it always has. It is beyond my reckoning, but I am glad it succeeded at last.”

“And I am grateful for your efforts, Halthak,” Amric
returned. “This is no place to fall ill, and having faced those mindless things, I dread the thought of where the infections they carry might lead.”

Halthak shuddered, for the same thought had occurred to him
. They rode on in silence for several minutes, navigating the trail as much by feel as by sight now, in the pressing dusk. Valkarr reappeared on the path ahead, shaking his head at Amric, then tapping a finger below one eye and pointing ahead. He then wheeled his blue dun gelding about and resumed his head position. Halthak turned toward Amric.

“What did––?” he began, but the swordsman interrupted smoothly.

“Healer, I saw a spasm of discomfort cross your face each time when you healed us earlier. Do you feel the full pain of the victim’s injury when you draw it into yourself in that manner?”

Halthak paused, confused
. “I cannot know for certain, but it seems so, or as nearly as I can judge. Though it is quick to fade once I absorb it, for the wound itself never lasts long. Why do you ask?”

“Curiosity, and regret for having caused you pain,” Amric replied
. His hawk eyes rested on Halthak for a moment. “And I regret disparaging your use of magic. Taking the hurt from others is a heroic thing indeed.”

Halthak flushed, grateful for the mask of twilight, and nodded his thanks
. Ahead of them, Bellimar turned and looked at them with luminous eyes that somehow caught the crimson glimmer from above.

“They come, swordsman,” he said
, sharp warning in his tone.

Halthak’s eyes widened as he looked from Bellimar to Amric
. He recalled the question he had been about to ask a moment before. “What did Valkarr’s signals mean, and why did he ride off at speed like that?” he said. “And what is Bellimar talking about?”

“
Valkarr has found a place for us to stop,” Amric said. “And he rode ahead in an attempt to draw away whatever has been hunting us for the better part of an hour.”

Halthak’s tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.

Amric chuckled. “Do not look so accusing, healer. There is nothing you could have done, had you known, except worry yourself into a froth. Valkarr sought to lead them away and lose them in the forest while we broke free in a different direction to take a longer way around, but unfortunately they did not take the bait.”

“Then Bellimar meant––”

“Yes, they are closing in. Whatever they are, they initially followed at a great distance, but they are growing bolder as darkness falls.”

Halthak
turned frantic eyes to the side, straining to pierce the blackness of the forest. At first he saw nothing as before, and then his spine turned to ice. A scarce twenty paces off the trail, he caught a long shadow slinking low to the ground through a gap between two large trees. He gasped, trying in vain to track it further in the gloom, but as swiftly as he had found it, it was lost again. Ten paces behind where he had seen it, another dark shape appeared for a moment, sleek and swift, and then was gone.

“Do not stare!” Amric commanded in a harsh whisper
. “They seem content to pace us while we do not focus on them. I think like most night hunters, they are loath to reveal their presence until ready to close the trap, or risk losing their greatest advantage.”

“Then they are not the same black things we faced this morning,” Halthak said,
unsure whether to feel relief or fear at the conclusion. Could the unknown be worse than this morning’s horror? It was a question he was very reluctant to answer.

“No, these are something different
, and they hunt like a silent pack of wolves. I have my suspicions as to what they might be, but the failing light has kept me from being certain, and they are canny hunters. Ah, there we are, up ahead.”

Halthak followed
the swordsman’s gaze through a cleft in the trees to see a massive square bluff shouldering its way above the forest. Like an anvil of bleached bone surrounded by a mantle of smaller crags and boulders, the monolith reared skyward to be painted crimson by the last sliver of the dying sun.

“
When you said we meant to stop, you did not mean to camp,” Halthak said.

That steel gr
ey gaze slid across him before returning to monitor their pursuers, but in that brief moment Halthak was taken aback by the fierce, wintry expression on the warrior’s visage. The man had entered the void of war, he realized, and was prepared to deal death at any moment.

“
We need a good place to make our stand,” Amric said. “The day is not yet done, healer.”

E
skaras strolled along the battlement atop the eastern city wall of Keldrin’s Landing, tapping the butt of his crossbow upon each crenellation as he passed. The night was humid and pressed in close about him, and inwardly, where there was no risk that a superior officer would overhear him, he cursed his patrol assignment.

On the northern wall, he would
be enjoying the cooling breeze drifting over the city from the Vellayen Sea. The western wall boasted breathtaking views of the homes of the city’s wealthiest residents. Those sprawling, luxurious estates were lit well enough, even at night, to fuel the unlikely dreams of one scraping out a meager existence on the pay of a city guard. His assignment tonight was the southernmost stretch of the eastern wall, however, and it had little to recommend it these days. To be sure, the broad vistas were scenic in the light of day, but they palled to tedium with enough viewings, and after nightfall they dissolved into broad gulfs of impenetrable darkness.

Eskaras
dropped his gaze to the flagstone path stretching away before him, fancying he could see a shallow furrow worn into the herringbone pattern from the countless booted feet that had trod this path before him. He wondered how many times he himself had walked this lonely circuit, and his mood darkened. Wall-watch was a duty desired by very few; it was monotonous, too secure to draw additional hazard pay, and too remote to catch the eye of a more generous private employer. Eskaras rapped the next crenellation harder with his crossbow as he wondered what he had done to merit selection for this duty yet again; he had his suspicions that it was guilt by association.

He stopped and peered over the edge to see the stone recede
downward into darkness. He could not see to the ground, over one hundred feet below, but he glimpsed the periodic torches in wall sconces, each a tiny nimbus striving to hold back the gloom. There were tales among the city watch of strange and terrible things reaching the walls from time to time, and it seemed every morning a few of the sconces were found torn from their moorings and had to be replaced, but Eskaras had never witnessed such events himself. Even if something did reach the city’s perimeter, what primitive forces could dream of scaling or penetrating this sheer stone giant? It was far too high and impregnable to even require a patrol, in his opinion; even one as thin as a mere two guards per wall.

One of the squat bastions punctuating the battlement loomed ahead
. He stepped inside, leaning his crossbow against the interior wall to check the oil supply in its hanging lamp. He glanced over the large brass alarm bell hanging from the aperture that overlooked the city. Satisfied, he was reaching for his crossbow when a stealthy shuffling sound upon the flagstones outside the bastion brought him about with a sharp oath. His fingers curled about the solid wooden stock and he lifted the weapon against him, drawing the string back and latching it into place. He was fumbling for a bolt when a helmed head peered around the edge of the stone doorway. A roguish grin split the bearded face. Eskaras sagged against the bastion wall, exhaling in relief even as he glared at the newcomer.

“Brek, you
thick-skulled lummox!” he said. “You could be sucking breath through a new hole right now.”

“I have seen you shoot
. I had little to fear,” the other laughed, stepping forward into full view. “You are as likely to castrate yourself with that thing as you are to hit your target.”

“
It is
you
I should castrate,” Eskaras said with a scowl. Pointing his weapon at Brek’s groin, he pulled the trigger. The unloaded crossbow string snapped to with a sharp report, and he took great pleasure in the height of the man’s startled jump.

“Do not even je
st so,” Brek said in mock horror. “Can you imagine the grief-stricken maidens across our fair city, faced with such a cruel twist of fate?”

Eskaras snorted
. “I can imagine how many husbands across our fair city would shake my hand in thanks for the deed, not to mention the legions of maidens you’ve not yet met whose virtue I would be defending.”

Brek’s grin drooped into his reddish beard, and he hung his head in a passable imitation of injury
. “You wound me, my friend, you really do.”

Eskaras arched an eyebrow at the other man, and the
impish grin emerged once more. Wall duty seemed a perpetual assignment for Brek; he was always getting caught at one mischief or another, and Eskaras knew quite well that for every ill-advised endeavor at which the scoundrel was caught, a dozen more went undiscovered. The rogue’s charm was undeniable, however, and his golden tongue had deflected severe punishment and even termination on more than a few occasions. And, Eskaras was forced to admit, he was a fair hand at arms and a competent guard, when he was not distracted by his most recent scheme.

“What are you doing here, Brek
? This is my patrol route tonight, may the sergeant’s eyes be blasted from his head.”

“
Can a man not keep his friend company on this dreadfully dull stretch of night?” Brek asked. “By the heavens, there is nothing else going on up here to keep one awake.”

Eskaras chuckled and resumed walking along the battlement, and his friend fell into step beside him
. He watched Brek from the corner of his eye, feeling a mix of envy and annoyance at the man’s jaunty, carefree gait with his own crossbow resting upon his shoulder. Brek somehow seemed utterly at home no matter where he was, and was at ease talking with anyone, regardless of station or appearance. Eskaras had never enjoyed that talent, finding all too often that his tongue became thick and clumsy when he tried to converse with superior officers or attractive women.

They walked together, and
though Brek evinced no urge to break his affable silence, Eskaras grew ever more agitated. He could count on his friend for any favor, no matter the size or risk, but Brek was just as quick to make requests of his own, and helping the man seldom came without consequence. And just as old scars sometimes itched before a coming battle, he knew that Brek was after something. At last, Eskaras could take it no more.