Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road

CHAPTER NINE

Ashok slept in short snatches that night. He kept hearing unfamiliar sounds, movement, and cries of animals he didn’t recognize. Once he watched a bird soar down to trap a mouse in its talons. The creature was snow-white and had a flat face with dark-rimmed eyes. Ashok had never seen a bird like it before.

Skagi roused him before dawn, and the trio left the camp with the nightmare to hunt. They found deer tracks, a small herd moving north away from the camp. Skagi kneeled to examine the droppings.

“Pretty fresh,” Skagi said. He wiped his hand on the grass. “We’ll catch up to them if we run.”

Standing next to him, Cree didn’t reply. Skagi sighed and wiped his fingers on his brother’s boot.

Ashok noted the warrior’s stiff posture. He had his hands on his katars. “What is it?” Ashok said. “Did you hear something?”

Cree shook his head. “Look at the tracks,” he said. “They’re too widely spaced. Something scared them, made them run.”

“A predator?” Ashok said.

“No sign of any in the area,” Cree said. “And look here.” He pointed to where the tracks came up from the river. “The tracks are evenly spaced. Something happened between here and there to make them run.”

“They must have heard something,” Skagi said. “Something the caravan missed.”

“A sound they’ve heard before,” Ashok said, understanding. “Something that signals violence to the animals in this area of the caravan route.”

“We need to get back,” Cree said, “now.”

Ashok mounted the nightmare, and the brothers ran along beside him back toward the camp. Gray light spread from the deep blue horizon. Riders came into view from the west-ten of them-moving fast. The camp had already seen them. The shadar-kai mounted up to go meet them while the rest stayed to defend the wagons.

Then, to the south, Ashok heard crossbow bolts singing in the air. Their owners-Ashok counted at least five of them-rode through the tall grass by the river. Ashok shouted a warning to Skagi and Cree and wrenched the nightmare around before they charged right into the path of the missiles. The black quarrels buried themselves in the wagon sides and into the dirt. Horse screams rang out as they hit two of the beasts.

No cheap weapons this time, Ashok thought grimly. They’ve brought out their best finery, just for us. He unhooked his chain from his belt and let it whip behind the running nightmare like a second barbed tail.

“We’ll take the bowmen,” Skagi yelled as he and Cree took cover behind the closest wagons. “Let your pony have the riders.”

Ashok felt the blood sing in his veins as the nightmare surged ahead. The sellswords had a head start on him, but they were still outnumbered. Ashok picked his target so he’d have the fullest effect on the rest.

The shadar-kai and the brigands came together in a ringing clash of metal, horse screams, and sucking mud. Ashok saw Kaibeth bury her dagger in the neck of one of the beasts. The animal gave a piercing scream and went down, pinning its rider underneath it. She turned and slid off her own horse to attack the leg of another that was fighting her comrade, the burn-scarred man. More than once the clustered horses came close to trampling her, but each time she danced aside and finally teleported out of the melee.

Ashok hauled the nightmare’s reins to the left, sending them out wide of the death circle and flashing blades. A crossbow quarrel skipped off his bone scale breastplate and flew wide. Ashok spared a glance at the camp and saw a second group of five crossbowmen riding in to support the first. Between them, they’d effectively pinned down the caravan for at least the next few minutes. Confident, perhaps, that they had the caravan surrounded, one of the crossbowmen had pulled off and was firing at Ashok.

Well enough, Ashok thought. You want to flank me, let’s see how you like firing through your own men.

He switched the spiked chain to his left hand and slid off the side of the nightmare, putting its thick body between him and the crossbow quarrels. He slung his right arm over the beast’s neck to keep from falling.

“What do you think?” he shouted to the nightmare. “Can you outrun their stings?”

In response, the nightmare let out its own fierce scream. Though dampened by Neimal’s magic, the cry echoed across the plain for miles and made the combatants falter in their attacks. Several of the brigands turned to see where the sound had come from.

All they see, Ashok thought, is a charging horse. But as the nightmare’s scream died away, perhaps they heard the sound of Ashok’s wild laughter.

A second crossbow bolt whistled overhead. In its wake, Ashok hauled himself back up straight on the nightmare and brought the chain over his head. He switched hands again and wrapped the spikes around the neck of a brigand on the outer edge of the circle. The brigand choked, his hands reaching automatically for the spikes. His hands came away bloody. Ashok rode right by the man and kept going. The chain pulled taut and jerked the brigand off his horse.

Ashok let go of his end and braced himself with both hands as the nightmare slammed into a second horse’s body. The animal’s legs folded, and it, too, dumped its rider. Ashok tensed, expecting Neimal’s illusion to fail, but the spell stayed in place, linked to the bone spur necklace.

A sword tip flashed in the pale dawn light and cut a slash in his armor. Burning pain erupted in his flank, and Ashok could spare no more thoughts for the nightmare. He slapped the beast’s flank and teleported just as the nightmare bolted.

Skagi yanked a crossbow bolt out of his arm and experienced a momentary dizziness when he realized the quarrel had multiple barbs that had torn through his flesh all at once. He drew in a slow breath and shook himself. The pain spread outward in silky waves. Falchion in hand, he stood up and screamed, waving the weapon in his hands.

“Come over here, dogs, and let me take a bite out of you!”

No one took the bait, but Skagi dodged the two bolts that hurtled at his face. He ran forward and dived for cover next to one of the wagon wheels. Cree was in the back with Vlahna, who had her shortbow going as fast as she could get arrows nocked. The rest of the caravan guards either returned fire or, like Skagi, made their way from cover to cover until they could get in sword range of the bowmen.

A lot of them died in the process.

“They’re not quite the bad shots we thought they were,” Cree called down to Skagi.

“Who ever said that?” Skagi shot back.

“Oh, I don’t know-the corpse over there maybe, or that one, or …”

“He’s right,” Vlahna said. She yelled out, “Don’t waste yourselves by charging one at a time. You’ll only swallow a bolt. Oh, godsdamn it!” Her bowstring snapped. “Never mind, just give me some cover, Cree. Tymora!”

Vaulting over the side of the wagon, Vlahna charged. She screamed to her goddess and batted aside crossbow quarrels as she went.

“Cover her?” Cree sputtered. “With what?”

“Your body, Brother.” Skagi stood up and ran to follow Vlahna. “Or you can hide behind us and-”

Cree jumped down from the wagon and ran alongside Skagi. Either the brigands were running low on ammunition or they never expected an outright assault, because suddenly Skagi was out of the black rain and staring down at a brigand frantically trying to reload his weapon. He didn’t become aware of Skagi until the man was on top of him.

Skagi kicked aside the crossbow and followed up with his falchion. He slashed the man’s armor, which was not quite as fine as his weaponry. The leather parted easily for Skagi’s blade, forged in Ikemmu’s fires by the greatest smiths in Faerun, as far as the big man was concerned. But Skagi was not sentimental about his killing. He put his blade into the brigand’s chest and moved on to help his brother and Vlahna.

He caught Cree just as his brother slashed a brigand’s throat with his katar. As if they sensed the tide had turned, the crossbowmen rapidly dropped their weapons and came into the fray among the wagons where they could engage the human guards in smaller groups. Skagi heard Vlahna shouting to some of them to break off and help the shadar-kai riders down by the river.

Skagi glanced that way, but he couldn’t pick out Ashok among the flashes of steel and the shadar-kai teleporting about for better positions. Anyway, Ashok would be fine on his own, Skagi thought, unless he did something deliberately reckless and tried to get himself killed. Which was also a distinct possibility, given that Skagi would probably do the same thing in his place. Still, he could at least wait and share some of the fun.

“We need to check on Ilvani,” Cree said from just behind him. “She was sleeping in the wagon.”

“Better hope she stayed there and took cover.” Skagi met a charging brigand and absorbed the impact of an axe against his falchion. His teeth rattled, but he held on and thrust the man back a pace. He spared a glance at Cree and felt a tremor go through his body.

“Behind you!” he shouted.

Cree turned just in time to see a brigand come up on his blind side with a club. He ducked-thank Tempus he was still faster than all of them, Skagi thought-and slashed at the man from the groin up. Skagi winced as the blow landed.

“My thanks,” Cree said gravely after the man had fallen.

Skagi nodded. They fought on, but Skagi noticed a tremor in his hands. He dismissed the shakes as battle frenzy and gripped his blade harder. Still, he found himself staying close to Cree and watching his brother’s back, a thing he’d rarely had to do in the past. It was always the other way around.

Ilvani awoke to the sound of crossbow fire and heavy breathing. A weight slammed into the side of her wagon, which caused her to hit her head on the floorboards. She was grateful for this, in a way, because it assured her she wasn’t dreaming.

In fact, she’d not dreamed at all last night.

Ilvani was still pondering this when the weight that had slammed into her wagon threw itself over the side and landed among the crates and barrels near the front. He was human and small-bony arms and legs stuck out at all angles. When he turned his face toward her, Ilvani saw the innocence of youth and the terror of the battle reflected back at her. She noticed all these things before she realized the boy was speaking to her, his lips moving frantically. He wanted help.

Why did they all ask for her help?

With an effort, Ilvani pulled herself to wakefulness and back into the world. She looked the boy over. He didn’t appear to be hurt, only covered in mud. Grass stuck out of his hair as if he’d been crawling along the ground.

“What happened?” she asked.

“Brigands,” the boy said. “Mareyn, she tossed me in the wagon like a sack of dung. She left me … Please …”

“I’m right here, dolt,” said a voice, followed by a body that sprang lightly into the wagon. A dark-skinned woman landed unceremoniously on top of the boy, who moaned in pain. “Coddled baby, that’s what you are. I should have left you in the muck.” She sounded amused, not angry. Then she saw Ilvani, and her face brightened. “Well met. I’m Mareyn, and this is Lord Grump-and-Stomp.”

“Kelios Lestran Martuck,” the boy said weakly. He pushed Mareyn off him.

“Call him Les.” Mareyn winked at Ilvani. All the while she spoke she was cranking a crossbow. When she finished loading it, she popped her head up and fired at a target Ilvani couldn’t see. She dropped back undercover. “What’s your name?” she asked.

Ilvani said nothing. She was still trying to reconcile whether any of this was real. She knew she wasn’t dreaming, but that didn’t necessarily mean she wasn’t imagining the scene before her.

“Don’t bother,” Les said sourly. “She doesn’t speak. I think she must be a dumb creature.”

Mareyn scowled at the boy, but Ilvani didn’t care. People had tried to give her so many names. She remembered only some of them: deaf, dumb, insane, prophet, witch, sister. Her heart stumbled over the last one.

She wanted out of this wagon. Her joints were stiff and sore, and she knew Ashok and the others would be in the fighting. She would help them if she could. Her mind felt unusually clear after her long sleep. With clarity, the magic slumbering within her awoke.

A brigand appeared at the back of the wagon, his sword up and seeking flesh. Mareyn came forward and blocked the blow with her crossbow. Les leaned forward, pulled her sword out of its scabbard, and hastily shoved it into her hands. Mareyn dropped the crossbow and smiled her thanks. Ilvani scooted back out of her way and risked a glance over the tall side of the wagon.

The camp was a mess of blood, bodies, and scattered gear. Not many of the caravan people were dead, but there were plenty of wounded, and only a handful of the brigands had broken off in retreat. Ilvani didn’t see Ashok among the melee, but she thought she heard Skagi’s voice among the battle sounds. He came around the side of a wagon, Cree trailing behind him, and saw her.

“Put your head down, witch,” Skagi cried in exasperation. “Do you want it made into a trophy?”

The wagon shook with the ferocity of Mareyn’s sword swings. Ilvani gripped the side of the wagon with one hand and raised the other above her head. Necrotic energy blackened her fingers. Mareyn ducked the brigand’s sword slash, leaving Ilvani an open path. The witch released the blackfire. The dark energy hit the brigand in the face and blasted him off the back of the wagon. Two other brigands fighting nearby saw the blackfire and ran.

“Tymora’s kiss!” Mareyn saluted Ilvani with her sword. “This has been a fine day so far!” The Martuck boy whimpered and put his head behind a barrel.

“Oh, that’s not fair!” Skagi cried. He pushed through the group of human guards who pursued the brigands. “She does one spell, and everyone’s in awe and fleeing in fear. You always steal the glory, witch.”

Cree laughed. “Come on, Brother. Run with me, and maybe we’ll catch a few alive. Tuva and Vlahna will be pleased if we get a pair to interrogate.”

The sound of hoofbeats made them all turn. Bright-eyed and bloodied, Ashok rode over to them on his horse. Ilvani saw the way the nightmare stiffened when he got near her, the way his eyes darkened with malice.

He smells it on me, Ilvani thought. The dead woman’s scent, the storm. The spirits reach through me and stroke everything with a corrupt touch. Why couldn’t they have come sooner, when she’d needed their foul influence?

“The riders that kept on their horses are fleeing,” Ashok said. “Is everyone all right here?” His gaze found each of them but rested last and longest on Ilvani. “I saw your spell,” he said.

“We all did,” Skagi grumbled.

“It’s been a good day.” Ilvani found herself tentatively echoing Mareyn’s words.

“That’s not all-oh, come on, you heard what they said. The brigands are fleeing.” Mareyn dragged Les out of the wagon and got him on his feet. She smiled warmly at Ilvani. “This one shared the kiss with me.”

Skagi raised an eyebrow, but Ilvani just looked at her. The nightmare blew a short breath that to Ilvani smelled like smoke. She wondered if any of the humans could sense the wrongness of the stallion.

Mareyn laughed. “Not an actual kiss-I meant Tymora’s favor. It’s no coincidence that we toppled into your wagon. Tymora meant for us to bring good fortune to each other, and it started just now when we fought the brigands. I believe the Lady is always looking for such pairings, opportunities to throw folk into one another’s path and see what happens. What folk choose to do with these ‘chance’ meetings is up to them, but I believe they come out the better for it.” She held out a hand to Ilvani. “What do you say? Are we bound together in luck, for as long as we walk the same road?”

Ilvani looked at the woman’s outstretched hand. If she touched it, the spirits might crawl out of her skin and infect Mareyn, or the woman’s hand might become a snake. She could never trust what might happen when flesh touched flesh.

“Don’t tie your fortune to mine,” Ilvani said quietly. “You’ll regret it, if you do.”

She turned and got down out of the wagon while Mareyn’s hand still hung in the air between them. She didn’t wait to see the disappointment, the confusion seep into the woman’s eyes. There was nothing Ilvani could do about that. Too many eyes watched her, too many hands tried to touch her. Even Ashok. Especially Ashok. She could feel his gaze follow her all the way down to the river.

Ashok watched Ilvani walk away from the group. She kneeled by the water’s edge and drank. When she’d finished, she stayed where she was, her back to them.

The brigands were gone-Skagi and Cree had gone with Vlahna to try to round up stragglers, but Ashok had a feeling they wouldn’t catch any alive. This group had been well organized and prepared to accept heavy losses in order to get the caravan’s cargo. Still, they’d managed to fend them off with minimal loss of life.

Mareyn introduced the boy, Les, to him before the young one went running off to find his parents. Now the pair of them stood alone together. Ashok tried to wipe some of the dry encrusted blood off his body, but he knew he’d have to bathe in the river to remove most of it. Mareyn went to one of the fallen caravan guards and checked for signs of life. She shook her head and murmured a prayer to Tymora.

“Was he a companion of yours?” Ashok asked.

She shook her head. “He was one of Tatigan’s guards.” She looked around at the chaotic scene. “I’m surprised Daruk didn’t show up for this battle. We could have used him.”

“The bard?” Ashok said. He tried to picture someone like Darnae playing a lute in the middle of the bloody scene. The picture didn’t fit in his mind.

“Your witch is a strange one,” Mareyn continued, dismissing the subject of Daruk as quickly as she’d brought it up. “I’ve never met anyone who refused the kiss like that.”

“You shouldn’t be offended,” Ashok said. He rolled over the dead body of a brigand and searched for pouches or symbols, something to suggest where he might have come from. Of course, he found nothing. “Ilvani’s not easily drawn out of her own mind.”

“Oh, I wasn’t offended,” Mareyn said, “and I won’t stop trying-to draw her out, I mean. I still think there’s a purpose to our meeting. She’s different-I can tell. Even among shadar-kai, she’s been hurt more than most, hasn’t she?”

“More than anyone knows,” Ashok said.

“Then she needs Tymora’s aid more than I thought,” Mareyn said. She checked another dead brigand but came up with nothing.

“She already has the favor of Tempus,” Ashok said, “whatever that’s worth.”

“It’s a tricky thing, the gods’ favor,” Mareyn agreed. She wiped her blade on the grass before sheathing it. “They often know our needs better than we do, though we don’t always realize it.”

“If that’s true, Tempus owes Ilvani more than He can ever make up for,” Ashok said. “Her needs have gone unheeded far too long.”

“I’m sorry to hear that-” Mareyn stopped and picked up what looked like a hand whistle from the ground next to one of the brigands. “What have we here? A lucky find?” She grinned at Ashok.

Ashok took the whistle and put it to his lips. He blew a shallow breath and got a high-pitched warbling sound from the whistle. “A fake bird call,” he said. “That’s how they signaled the attack.”

“Who signaled?” Mareyn said. “We scouted the surrounding area all night. Nobody got close enough to see the camp.”

“And yet, as soon as Skagi, Cree, and I left the camp to hunt-reducing the caravan’s numbers-the call went out,” Ashok said. “That’s what scared the deer. They’ve heard it before and know it means violence.”

Mareyn cursed. “So we’ve got a traitor tagging along with us on this trip.”

“Show this to Tuva,” Ashok told her, “but no one else. If the traitor’s not dead or escaped with the brigands, he’s still here. We have a better chance of catching him if he doesn’t know he’s been found out.”

“A good plan, but what if the traitor is you or me?” Mareyn said, cocking an eyebrow.

“Then Tymora’s luck isn’t working very well for one of us,” Ashok said. “We’ll find the traitor-it’s only a matter of time.”

Once they’d tended the wounded, buried the dead, and got the caravan back in order and ready to move on, they’d lost half the morning. Dim sunlight penetrated the restless clouds, and the ground was still wet, but Tuva and Vlahna pushed them at a merciless pace to make up for all the lost time. The normally serene Tatigan wore a black look and snapped at anyone who tried to speak to him.

Tuva must have told him about the traitor. It did nothing for Tatigan’s pride in his new trading venture to have it undermined from within after only a day on the road.

Strangely, however, most of Tatigan’s anger seemed directed at the bard, Daruk, who rode in the same wagon with the merchant. They argued in low voices for more than an hour, until finally Tatigan’s temper erupted for the entire caravan to hear.

“You’re not a minstrel singing for his keep at the village inn,” Tatigan cried.

“You’re right,” Daruk said, his smooth voice rising to match Tatigan’s ire. “I’m much more than that. I don’t rise to meet the challenge of dirt road brigands. It’s beneath me.”

“Beneath you!” Tatigan’s face reddened. “You think you’re putting on a show for-”

“Aren’t I?” Daruk said. “This is my work. I perform on a stage-it might be blood-soaked, but it’s my arena. I decide when I go on and off again. That was our agreement.”

“Gods save me from your tragic romanticism,” Tatigan said irritably. He lowered his voice, but Ashok still heard. “We lost four good men and women today, and many more were hurt.”

“Chances are, I couldn’t have prevented any of those deaths,” Daruk said. He put a hand around Tatigan’s shoulder. The merchant shrugged it off. “You know me, green-eyed man. If you want to appeal to my sentiments, get me a battle worthy of a song. Give me warriors who will dazzle the gods with the fury of their souls. Do that, and I will reach into the darkness and show you what glory means.”

“You expect to find all that on a coster caravan run in the middle of the plains during winter?” Tatigan said dryly. “You’re a fool, Daruk.”

“I certainly haven’t found it here among these shadar-kai,” Daruk said. The way he said “these shadar-kai” made Ashok think the bard wasn’t deriding the entire race, only those associated with the caravan-or maybe with Ikemmu. He couldn’t be sure.

“Many of them are Tempus’s children,” Tatigan said. He’d calmed somewhat, probably because they were now discussing one of the merchant’s favorite topics. “They fight for the glory of the war god-that should appeal to your sensibilities.”

“Hardly.” This time Daruk was being derisive. “Tempus wastes them, so do Beshaba and the rest, as far as I’m concerned. They’ve not even begun to grasp their full potential. But that one”-he turned around and looked straight at Ashok-“has an inkling of what’s inside him. Eh, chainfighter? Do I speak the truth?”

Ashok stared back at the bard. There was no use pretending he hadn’t overheard the conversation. “When I’ve heard you sing,” Ashok said, “I’ll decide if it’s a song worth hearing.”

Tatigan chuckled. “Well said, as always, Ashok. I knew the two of you would make interesting companions.” He seemed in much better spirits. “When we reach the trade route, we’ll have an evening of song as celebration. Then you can judge for yourself whether this one is all wind and poetry.”