Dark Magic (5 page)

Brand shook his head. “He’s half-crazed as it is.”

“It hurts him, Brand,” she said, almost pleading.

Brand shrugged. “I suppose we can try it. How did you manage to stay on?”

“It wasn’t easy.”

They walked the horse back to retrieve the saddle and headed toward Riverton. It would be dark soon. Brand reflected that he had avoided telling Telyn what he and Jak were talking about. He knew that she still thought about it, but at least she had stopped questioning him.

Brand watched her pretty face and shapely legs as she sat up there, still riding the horse. He let her ride without comment. The only way to get the horse accustomed to riders was to keep riding it.

What could he tell her about his thoughts? Not much, he figured. He didn’t know much about women, but he knew that you didn’t bring up the topic of marriage with one of them unless you meant business.

* * *

They spent the night at Drake manor. Lanet had cooked a fine supper for them, with everyone helping, of course. She seemed nervous and anxious to impress Brand and Telyn. Brand knew that many women might scorn a young widow for entertaining a man so soon after her husband’s death. After all it had only been months, not years, since she had lost her man. But he also knew that after the battles against the rhinogs, many men had been killed. Competition was sharp amongst the ladies for the thinned ranks of prospective husbands. As well, many of the River Folk thought there was no time to lose in the matter of birthing new children. These were perilous times, and there never had been a large population of humans in the Haven. Compared to the Kindred or even the Merlings, the humans were easily outnumbered by the rest.

So it was without prejudice of any sort that he had been impressed greatly by her cooking, her home and even her toddling son. He looked upon the child and smiled, wondering if he was soon to become the boy’s proud Uncle, and was glad he was there to see his first unsteady steps.

Lanet had gotten along very well with Telyn as well, further evidence that the group was compatible. A new startling thought hit Brand as he sat down to breakfast with Tylag’s family plus Jak, Lanet and Telyn. Was he looking at a new family, forming out the scraps of old ones? Were these the people that would be coming to Rabing Isle for holidays and summer feasts? It was a happy thought, and he hoped it would come true.

And so it was that when the manling hopped up to stand on the window sill nearest him, causing Lanet’s cat to hiss and back away, he didn’t feel excited to see him. Instead, he felt a twinge of regret. The arrival of Tomkin could only mean something was up, something adventurous and quite possibly dangerous. Life had certainly changed for him. He was not the simple river-boy he’d always planned to be.

Lanet was up in an instant. She grabbed up her boy and sheltered him in her encircling arms. Jak was up too, scrambling for his crossbow which was unloaded, but leaning against a wall close at hand.

“Tomkin,” Brand said, nodding to the tiny figure in the window. “A pleasure to see you.”

“And you, boy,” said Tomkin. He eyed the panicked Lanet. “I can see one of you has met a changeling at some point. Have no fear, woman! I’m no changeling. I’d be much more likely to bite than to steal something from your flesh.”

Brand waved to Jak and his brother escorted Lanet and her child from the dining room. She scowled at Tomkin, and Brand could hardly blame her. He doubted she would ever trust one of the Wee Folk for the rest of her life after Piskin had stolen her child with plans to drown it.

When everyone had left except for Brand and Telyn, Tomkin hopped onto the table between them and crouched there. He eyed them. He had something large that poked up out of his bag. It looked like a rolled up piece of parchment.

“I’ve chosen to bring you news. Bad news, I believe.”

“What news?”

Tomkin produced Gudrin’s message with a flourish. Brand took it and inspected it. He noted that the rolled up edges of the parchment were crinkled and worn, as if perhaps tiny fingers had been exercised upon them. He also noted the seal, which while not quite cracked, shows signs of an attempted, delicate lifting.

He smiled at the manling. “So, what does it say?”

“Just open it, river-boy!” said Tomkin, crossing his arms.

“Couldn’t get past the seal?”

Tomkin made a frustrated sound like an angry cat. Telyn laughed.

Brand broke the seal and drew out the note. He had learned his letters in school, but was hard put to make out Gudrin’s spidery script at first. Telyn helped him translate, leaning over his shoulder.

Then he felt a new weight upon his other shoulder. Tomkin stood there, crouched, moving his lips and squinting as he tried to make it out. The axe didn’t like the tiny man so close, and moved uneasily in his pack. Brand took the pack off and placed it at his knee. Tomkin, who had hopped off and commenced muttering as he removed the straps, immediately hopped back onto Brand’s shoulder again when the axe was gone.

Brand tolerated the manling’s tread with amusement. The Wee Folk were a strange lot.

They read the note together:

To Brand, Champion of the Haven, wielder of Ambrose the Golden:

The Kindred have no King, so this message is not the business of royalty. But I am Gudrin, clanmaster of the Talespinners. I send you a formal invitation from my folk to yours. Modi is lost in the Everdark, and has requested aid. Our clansmen have refused to render the aid so requested. I write this hoping that you might be fit to render such aid at your earliest convenience.

Your friend and ally,

-Gudrin

P.S. Tell Tomkin the seal was only normal wax. I knew he would run faster if he was curious about the contents.

When he read aloud this last, Tomkin was incensed. He hopped down on the table in front of them and lamented the tricksy ways of the Kindred. He carried on about Gudrin and her distrustful nature, insisting that his people were always the butt of every joke among the bigger folk.

Brand and Telyn ignored him. Instead, they frowned at the note.

“I’ll have to go,” said Brand. “I don’t see how I have any choice. I’ll leave today.”

Telyn looked at him. She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t even try to leave without me.”

“I plan to do exactly that,” he said, rolling the parchment back up.

Chapter Six

The Mushroom Circle

Brand went to tell Jak, Tylag and Thilfox Drake about the situation. They promised to bring it up for the next clan council.

Telyn had vanished by the time they all met. Brand had a feeling she was up to something.

Thilfox was the most disturbed. He rubbed at his neck and asked Brand repeatedly how necessary his personal involvement was. “Would it be possible to send another? We could send a contingent of the Riverton Constabulary, perhaps.”

Brand eyed him, knowing what he was thinking. “No,” he said. “Gudrin asked for me specifically, and I trust her judgment. All the Kindred trust her judgment.”

“Hardly,” said Thilfox, “they’ve denied Modi’s request for aid. If his own people think it is too dangerous to help him, then I think they might know the truth.”

“He’s got a point, lad,” said Tylag, “the Kindred don’t just give up on their own. I would not be surprised if you were being sent on a recovery mission... A recovery of remains, I mean.”

Brand tried not to glower at them. Ever it was with his own people that they tried to dissuade him from the bold course. They were cowardly. It was disgusting.

Telling himself these thoughts were probably coming from the axe, he sucked in a big breath. He tried to listen to their talk and think carefully over what they were saying. But the axe was excited. It was so bored with the Haven, he could tell. Not much had happened since he had slain Twrog the giant. The axe craved adventure.

They were still talking, so he fought to listen.

“...you are the only one we have, Brand,” said Tylag, finishing a point.
“We don’t want to risk it.”

He wanted to say ‘the only what?’ but held back, so they would not know he only half-heard them.

“Look, Brand,” said Thilfox earnestly. “You are you own man. But you take our monthly silver for your expenses. We are all now dependent upon you and your gifts for our security. If you leave and something should befall you, we would be at the mercy of others once again. We are in a state of peace, certainly. And we are rearming. The constabulary has seen a doubling of budget. Every man has a blade and there isn’t a spot of rust to be found on any of them.”

“Not to mention the redcap’s armory has greatly improved the quality of our gear,” threw in Tylag.

“Yes, exactly,” said Thilfox. “But without your leadership, we would still be lost. How could we face an invasion of the Faerie or Hob’s rhinogs if we didn’t have you?”

“You mean if you didn’t have the axe.”

“Yes, and your rare ability to wield it. We’ve watched others try to wield the Jewels and fail. You are as valuable to us as the axe itself.”

Brand struggled to understand their point of view. He took the pack with the axe in it and set it aside. This helped to clear his thoughts. He didn’t want to make a hasty judgment.

“What do you suggest? You want me to ignore this request from our allies? Are you honestly suggesting we send a few militia as a token of our aid? Who do we send? We have no veterans of adventure. Who could go that would not simply offend the Kindred and embarrass the Haven?”

They looked at him and one another. Tylag cleared his throat. Thilfox blinked, thinking hard.

“I will go,” he said at last. He looked at Tylag. “Both of us will do it. Tylag and Thilfox, clanmasters both. We will take a few men-at-arms, all of us clothed in the finest armor we have from the redcap’s armory. That will put on a suitable show.”

Brand nodded, somewhat impressed with the idea. It had merit. But he knew it would not work. He could not imagine these old men trudging down into the unknown by themselves with a few dressed-up river-boys at their sides. They would not impress the Kindred, and most of all they would not impress Gudrin.

“You are brave to offer this,” said Brand seriously. “I have this axe to terrify my enemies with. It gives me strength and bravery. But I know that true bravery is facing the unknown with nothing.”

The two old men looked proud.

“But I don’t think it will work. Gudrin has asked for me. When we last met, I agreed to come to her aid, even before this crisis arose. She confided to me that all was not well in the Earthlight. Now, she has called upon me. We can’t refuse her and still expect the Kindred to come to our aid when we next call upon them.”

The two clanmasters deflated. They knew the truth of his words. Thilfox put a hand atop Brand’s fist, which rested on the table.

“All right. Will you at least wait for the council’s blessing? They meet tomorrow night.”

“I will not delay and arrive to find Modi died the day before I got there. I will leave today,” Brand said.

With that, he left the room.

* * *

Corbin, Telyn and Tomkin caught up with him at the Drake stables, as he loaded provisions upon the back of his new skittish horse. He kept the reins wrapped up in his fist and tried to avoid touching the roan’s bandage.

“And where do you think you’re off to?” asked Corbin, smiling.

Brand smiled back. The situation seemed like a familiar one. Months ago, he had attempted to set off on just such a dangerous journey alone.

“I’m only surprised Jak isn’t here to see me off as well.”

“We’re not here to see you off,” said Telyn. “We’re here to accompany you. Or at least one of us. Do you even know the way to Snowdon?”

Brand looked at them. “I’ll take the small one,” he said, pointing at Tomkin. “He must know the way at least.”

“A wise choice boy,” said Tomkin.

Telyn pinched her lips into an annoyed line. “What would Gudrin say if you arrived bearing the axe without a second?”

Brand paused, knowing they were right on that point. He eyed each of them. “I’ll take Corbin too, then.”

Telyn stamped her foot. The horse, sensing tension, shied and sidestepped. Brand tugged at the reins, trying to be gentle.

“And who will take care of that horse then?” she demanded. “You can’t even sit upon him yet. If you dare try to leave me, I’ll come after you and hunt you down. You know I will. Every shadow in the Deepwood will resemble me.”

“Brand,” said Corbin, speaking up for the first time. “I can’t go with you in any case. Not this time.”

“Don’t tell me you are engaged to someone as well.”

“No,” said Corbin, smiling, “but I’ve taken a commission in the constabulary. We are, in fact, organizing into a permanent force. An army, if you will. I’ll be an officer and training with the rest of the newly volunteered troops.”

“Like your father before you,” said Brand, nodding with approval. “I understand. Tylag doesn’t want you to go.”

“If it makes you feel any better, he would rather I go, his own son, than to lose you under some distant mountain.”

Brand shook his head. “No, I don’t think that does make me feel any better. But I understand. These are hard times. We all have our duties.”

“And yours are to do as you please?” asked Telyn, still annoyed. She stood with her arms crossed. Brand noticed for the first time she had her best hunting bow strapped upon her back and the knife she had gotten at the ruined Castle Rabing at her hip. She was serious about this. They all were. He wondered, just for a moment, how they had all grown up so fast. He supposed difficult times changed people quickly, and that it had always been so.

“All right,” he said at last, hugging everyone save Tomkin and the skittish horse. “I’ll take Telyn as my second and this little rascal as my guide.”

Tomkin hopped up onto the horse’s back. It was all Brand could do to hold the reins while Telyn worked to settle the horse down.

“Quite an animal you have here,” commented Tomkin. As agile as any of the Wee Folk and probably more than most, he stayed easily on the roan’s rolling back. “I’d wager we’ll eat him for rations before we reach home again. That will be a fine use for such a waste of horseflesh.”

And so they packed up the horse with provisions. Tomkin stood very high indeed atop the tallest package.

Jak and Lanet came to say goodbye, as did Tylag and Aunt Suzenna. Everyone acted as if they were burying them, but Brand was in great spirits. His axe rode high on his back, overjoyed to be doing
something
, going
somewhere
. Anything would be better than staying on this boring island another damnably quiet night.

After the lengthy goodbyes and well-wishes, they made their way to the ferry that ran from Stone Island to the western shore. The horse was too large for Jak’s skiff to handle easily, so the ferry was the best course. As they crossed the river with freezing spray wetting their faces, Brand remembered the last time he had done so. He looked around at the high cliffs, but saw no cowled riders. They were all dead and gone, and the Wild Hunt had never been back since.

They set their feet on the western shores of the Berrywine, half-dragging the roan off the ferry behind them. There were farms here, backed up against the Deepwood. The less fortunate clansmen lived in this region, mostly Hoots and Fobs, occasionally a family of the Sackens clan as well. As Brand recalled, the Fob pig farm where he had encountered Twrog was less than five miles to the south.

They paid the ferrymen, some of whom were relatives as the ferry trade was something Rabing clansmen commonly did. They entered the quiet town of Hamlet, and found it was anything but quiet.

There were dozens of men hammering and shouting. They were building a stockade around the town, facing outward toward the Deepwood. The wooden walls, partly formed, were really just logs stood up and roped together. Brand looked at them appraisingly and doubted they would stop a creature like Twrog. But combined with a score of bowmen and a few watchtowers and ramparts, they just might manage it. He nodded in approval. While he had been sitting on Rabing Isle stewing in boredom, here were people hard at work! He could see why Corbin had seen fit to join the constabulary, or the militia, as it was now known. Blue cloaks fluttered everywhere. There was excitement and bustling purpose filled the air.

He accosted a young woman who wore a new blue cloak and carried a bow, sure signs of a fresh recruit. He recalled her face vaguely from his school days. “Hello there, can you tell me how it goes here in Hamlet?”

The woman paused, squinting at them. She did a double-take when she saw the figure of the manling perched high atop their horse.

“Brand? I mean, Lord Rabing?” she asked. “I’m Freya, you remember me?”

Brand smiled, so did Telyn. Brand was glad the girl had given up her name, for he could not recall it.

“Yes, Freya, of course,” said Brand. “Tell me what’s going on here.”

Freya gestured toward the half-built wall of logs. “Strange things still come from the Deepwood. Not the Fae things,” here, she took a wide-eyed glance at Tomkin, who ignored her. “Mostly beasts and other stray creatures.”

“We are traveling into the Deepwood. What has troubled you most of late?”

“Wolves. Big ones with silver fur. They come at night and take sheep and even stray children. But there are other, much worse things deeper in the forest. What we fear most are things like that giant you slew, Brand. That’s why we are building this wall.”

Brand wished her well, he would have been off but Telyn questioned her further about these silver wolves. Brand had heard enough. He felt confident his axe could dispatch any wolf yet born. Soon, they were on their way again.

“Things certainly have changed,” said Telyn, in a voice that indicated she did not approve of the changes. “I remember coming here to buy hides with my father for tanning. Things were much more peaceful just last year.”

Brand had to agree. He tried to hide his pleasure. The axe made him want to grin in the face of danger. He thought then that if he ever had to stay somewhere boring for a long period he should perhaps put the axe up over the mantle, or perhaps in a secret compartment. The idea bothered him, however. It could not easily warn him of approaching dangers if he stowed it somewhere. It might even be stolen. The mere thought of that was enough to chill his thoughts. He knew that he couldn’t let it out of his sight or beyond the reach of his hand. Not willingly. The axe had too great a hold upon his mind for that. If he tried to stash it somewhere, it would drive him just as mad worrying about it.

After a hearty last meal at the best Inn in town, they marched out along the road that led toward the Deepwood, due west. The land soon became hilly and they passed a shepherd’s hut and a tiny vineyard on a hillside. People waved and called to him in recognition everywhere as he went. He was glad that news of his outburst yesterday seemed not to have reached Hamlet. People here were still glad to see him and there was no fear in their eyes when he met them.

That changed when he reached the last outpost, a simple rickety wooden watchtower that was really just a covered platform on stilts made of four pine logs. Up on top of the watchtower, the single guardsmen waved them to stop before following the road into the Deepwood.

The companions stopped, but Brand was annoyed.

“What’s the problem? Is this not a free road, or has some council seen fit to levy a tax on people exiting the Haven?”