The Name Of The Sword (Book 4) (31 page)

They both started and stepped apart. Cort dropped into a defensive crouch and produced a dagger; Tulellcoe rested a hand on his sword. Morgin held his empty hands out and stepped out of the shadows, walking slowly. “It’s just me, Morgin.”

Cort grinned and put her dagger away. “I should have known you’d come for her.”

She bounded across the few paces separating them, plowed into him and wrapped him in joyous hug. “It’s so good to see you,” she said as she planted a big kiss on each of his cheeks.

When Cort released Morgin, Tulellcoe gripped him by the shoulders, held him at arm’s length and looked him over carefully. Tulellcoe was not the kind of man to wrap someone in a hug, but Morgin saw the emotions racing across his face. “You’re a changed man. I’ll bet you have a strange tale to tell. Welcome back, nephew.”

He turned to the door, opened it and Morgin and Cort followed him into the room. Cort sat on the edge of the bed while Tulellcoe leaned casually against a wall and Morgin retreated to a corner. Cort wanted to hear everything that had happened since they’d parted almost a year ago. “There’s no time,” Morgin said, conscious of the approaching dusk. “I have to get back to the castle. Haleen is going to help me rescue Rhianne.”

Cort leaned forward. “
Get back
to the castle. Your were
in
the inner keep?”

“Yes, at mid-day.”

Tulellcoe asked, “And you spoke to Haleen?”

“Somehow she knew I was there. She’s always had some delusion that I’m her long lost child.” Morgin described his brief encounter with Valso’s sister. He knew that Tulellcoe and Haleen had long ago been lovers, and it clearly pained Tulellcoe to listen to him now.

“How did you get into the castle?” Cort asked. “We’ve been nosing around it for days, managed to get inside the outer bailey, but no further. Haleen offered to help us, but we’re not ready to play that card yet.”

“I learned a trick . . .” Morgin hesitated, recalled how angry Tulellcoe got at obscure references to strange happenings, decided to forge ahead anyway. “. . . in the Kingdom of Dreams. Apparently . . . I’m the Unnamed King.”

He saw the look that passed between them, the kind of look one might share when concerned about the sanity of a friend. They didn’t roll their eyes or anything overt, but clearly thought him unhinged. It was time for a demonstration.

He cast a shadow in the far corner of the room about six paces away. He pointed at it. “Do you see that shadow?”

They both looked that way and Cort asked, “One of yours?”

Morgin wrapped himself in a cloak of shadow, stepped into the one in the far corner, stepped out of it and said, “Yes, one of mine.”

Cort gasped and shot to her feet. Tulellcoe started and stepped away from the wall he leaned against.

Morgin continued. “This morning I stood on the parapets of Elhiyne. I’m learning that I can cross leagues in a heartbeat, if I know a shadow is there, and I know its shape and location. If I don’t, then I have to see it.”

Cort whistled through her teeth as Tulellcoe asked, “And you crossed from Elhiyne to Decouix in a single morning?”

Morgin shook his head. “In a single heartbeat. And not directly into Decouix. The only shadow I could recall was in the outer bailey, but I worked my way into the castle proper shadow-by-shadow. I memorized a few shadows there so I can get back when I need to.”

He needed to make sure he could really do what he planned, and Cort was about Rhianne’s size. “I need your help,” he said to her. “An experiment. I need to try something I haven’t done before.”

She cocked her head and gave him a doubtful look.

“I don’t think it’ll hurt you,” he said. “If it doesn’t work it’ll just fail.”

Tulellcoe said, “You
don’t think
? That’s not—”

Cort interrupted him. “Okay, I’ll help, what do you need?”

Morgin walked to one corner of the room, saying, “Join me over here.”

When she stood beside him, he said, “If this works you’ll feel a falling sensation. Ready?”

She nodded.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, cast a shadow in the far corner, wrapped one about the two of them—and stepped.

“Ah!” Cort said.

He extinguished the shadows and he and she now stood in the far corner of the room.

“Who!” Cort said. “That was amazing.”

The room had a single shuttered window, and through its slats he saw darkness descending on the city. “I have to go. Haleen promised to help me find Rhianne. I’m going to bring her back in the same way. But I need a familiar shadow that I know will be here.”

Cort stood, walked across the room and lit a lamp. They placed it on the floor, and Tulellcoe draped his cloak over the room’s only chair, then positioned the chair so the lamp and cloak cast a large, dark shadow in the corner. “Will that do?” he asked.

“Perfectly,” Morgin said. He walked into the shadow.

31
A Little Surprise

With dusk approaching, exhaustion weighed heavily on NickoLot as she, France and her parents rode toward the Elhiyne encampment, though saddle sores weighed more heavily. Compared to the other three, her riding skills were limited. If the poor swordsman hadn’t been near collapse when they’d left Elhiyne that morning, she would have held them back, or been left behind. As it was, France barely managed to stay in the saddle.

No one challenged them as they rode through the camp’s perimeter, then through it to the pavilion flying the Elhiyne banner. Roland dismounted and handed his reins to a groom, then helped AnnaRail out of the saddle. When he turned to Nicki she had a moment of panic, not sure she’d be able to dismount. “My back side is not feeling so good,” she said, trying not to grimace visibly.

He did grimace. “I’m sorry, Nicki.”

He helped her down, and when she stood on the ground she thought it might be a while before she could walk like a lady again.

Roland looked past her and she followed his gaze, and almost forgot her own pains. France climbed out of the saddle like an old man, leaned on his horse and rested his forehead against it.

AnnaRail approached him and put an arm about his shoulders. “I can give you strength, swordsman.”

He took a deep breath, and it surprised them all when he nodded, for they all knew he did not abide magic. AnnaRail closed her eyes, concentrated, and a moment later France stood a bit straighter. He swallowed, craned his neck from side-to-side, as if stretching the kinks out of it, then said, “Let’s get this over with.”

The look on Roland’s face turned angry. He nodded, turned, and the three of them followed him into the pavilion.

They found Olivia in council with Alcoa, Wylow, Brandon and JohnEngine, all bent over maps on a table. To one side DaNoel stood with a tankard of something to drink in one hand. Without preamble Roland shouted, “I’ll not stand by and allow you to destroy the clan with this war.”

Nicki had never heard anyone shout at grandmother that way, and couldn’t help but cringe in anticipation of the explosion that would certainly come. She looked about the pavilion, instinctively seeking a place to hide, like a mouse scenting the presence of a large cat nearby.

Every head in the tent turned Roland’s way. Olivia looked up from the maps and said, “Oh posh! It’s just a war, son. We’ll have a few skirmishes, they’ll kill a few of us, we’ll kill a few of them, and then it’ll be over. No harm done.”

As everyone competed to shout the loudest, Nicki stepped back and looked on. Something bothered her about Olivia, her brothers, cousins and the other lords of Elhiyne. They all looked ill, with washed-out complexions and dark bags under bloodshot eyes.

She noticed Brandon edging his way quietly toward her, still limping badly from the incident on the border. He hadn’t joined in the shouting. “Nicki,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly. He sounded exhausted.

When he released her she examined his aura, saw nothing there that would indicate illness or injury. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look ill.”

He shook his head, as if having trouble thinking, and said, “Didn’t sleep well last night. Nightmares.”

“But a nightmare or two shouldn’t affect you this badly.”

“Not a nightmare or two, but continuously all night. Started immediately every time I closed my eyes. Must have awakened ten or fifteen times with night terrors. And always about Morgin.”

“He came back, you know, to Elhiyne, yesterday.”

She could see Brandon had a hundred questions he wanted to ask, but Abileen, a sergeant of men, entered the tent and approached them. Brandon turned his way and acknowledged him. Abileen said, “A messenger from Penda, my lord. They want to talk.”

••••

Morgin huddled in a shadow near the top of the stairs waiting for Haleen. He’d chosen a different shadow from the one she’d found him in earlier. He didn’t think she intended to betray him, but it never hurt to be cautious. If armsmen suddenly rushed that shadow thinking to catch him, they’d find it empty and he’d have a few precious moments to escape.

He saw movement at the far end of the hall, but it turned out to be a servant girl walking hastily on some errand. She rushed past him and down the stairs, completely oblivious to him standing there.

It was well past sunset so he had the advantage of darkness, but he’d been waiting for quite some time and was growing impatient. Haleen was late, and he wondered now if she would show. If she didn’t, he’d have to find Rhianne on his own.

More movement at the far end of the hall drew his attention, Haleen walking briskly his way, no armsmen visible. She’d have to walk past him to get to the shadow she’d found him in earlier that day. He still wanted to see what she intended, so he decided to wait and watch, to reveal himself only when sure of her motives. But as she came near she hesitated, came to a stop, then slowly and deliberately turned to look his way. Somehow she sensed his presence.

“You are a cautious one,” she whispered.

“It keeps me alive.”

She cocked her head. “You do have good reason to move with care. My brother is vicious, and deadly.”

“You’re late.”

“It was necessary to wait for everyone to retire.”

She looked up and down the hall, then said, “Stay in your shadows and follow me.” Without waiting for an answer she turned and continued on her way.

Morgin danced among the shadows in her wake as she led him deeper into the castle. He recognized some of the corridors, but during his imprisonment here he’d rarely walked them at night. They appeared vastly different cloaked in the shadows of darkness and the occasional flaming sconce, and he wasn’t certain he could find his way back out.

She stopped at a set of high double doors, lifted the latch on one and opened it slowly. She looked back his way and nodded for him to follow. He slipped through the door behind her and closed it, taking care to avoid making any noise.

Morgin took in his surroundings. He stood in a small vestibule that opened into the sitting room of a suite. An open window on the far side admitted a shaft of pale moonlight. For Morgin that was more than enough illumination.

He followed Haleen past the sitting room and into a short hallway. She stopped at an open door, leaned toward him and whispered, “Servants sleeping in this room.” She pointed to a closed door beyond the servant’s quarters and said, “Your lady is behind that door. I’ll spell the servants so you won’t be disturbed.” She slipped into the servant’s room.

Morgin lifted the latch on the closed door and eased it open, glad that its hinges didn’t squeak. He stepped through and closed it, turned about and took in his surroundings with his shadow sight. The banked fire in a large hearth emitted a wan, orange illumination. He noted two high-backed comfortable chairs near the hearth, a makeup table with a mirror and a small chair, and dominating the room a large canopied bed. His Rhianne would be there.

He crossed the room, but the bed was empty.

“I’m over here.”

••••

Rhianne awoke in the night and sensed Morgin somewhere in the castle. She’d sensed him earlier that day, and prayed that he would not endanger himself by coming for her. Then in a blink he had left, but she knew he’d return. Now that he was back, this time he would find her, and she needed to prepare herself mentally to confront him.

She climbed out of bed, still stiff and sore from Valso’s beating, though she’d improved greatly in just the last day. She threw on a heavy robe, crossed the room and sat down in one of the high-backed chairs in front of the hearth, then triggered the spell she’d concocted to hide the bruises on her face. Morgin was not the type to take one look at her bruises, rush to Valso’s suites and openly challenge the king to something misguidedly heroic. But still, if he saw how she’d been treated, he’d resist even more strongly when she told him she could not leave with him, not yet.

She didn’t have long to wait. She heard him lift the latch on the door, open it, step into the room, close it, then cross the room to her bed.

“I’m over here,” she said.

In a heartbeat he stood in front of her. She rose and stepped into his embrace, and as he wrapped his arms around her he said, “To find this one moment in time I would march across the Plains of Quam a hundred days, struggled through the oven of the Munjarro’s sands for a thousand.”

He held her in silence for a moment, then whispered, “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” she said.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Let’s go. I can take you away from here in my shadows.”

She hesitated, and as she did so he frowned. “I can’t,” she said. “My duty lies here.”

She leaned away from him and looked into his face, and now she did see the pain there. “What do you mean?” he asked.

“After you leave here you’re going to return, aren’t you? With an army. You’ll take Durin, so you can fight Valso and his master. But the little serpent is too dangerous to leave unchecked.”

“No,” he said, sounding like a little boy again, tears streaming down his cheeks. “Stay away from Bayellgae. His venom would consume you. What can you do against him?”

“I have an idea, but I must remain here to make it work.”

“No, we’ve waited so long for this.”

“And we’ll wait a bit longer.” She felt tears flooding her own eyes.

He squeezed her tightly, kissed her gently on the neck, and she heard him inhale her scent with a long, deep intake of breath. “I can’t allow you to do this.”

She felt his tears dripping on her bare shoulder. She ignored him and said, “Be wary of the Nether Plane.”

“What do you mean?”

“Now that Salula and Metadan are gone, Valso’s master is looking for you there. If you venture to any level beyond the Mortal Plane, he can probably harm you.”

“I can’t avoid it completely, but I’ll be careful.”

She said, “And there’s something else you must know, my darling.”

She’d thought about this long and hard, knew that she was likely the only person who truly understood the blade, because she now truly understood her Morgin. She recalled that moment when she’d first seen him on the shelf of rock in the side of Attunhigh. She’d thought that when Salula spun her, Valso’s spell compelled her to track the blade, when in fact it compelled her to track Morgin. “There is no power in the blade. It is but a thing of steel.”

He leaned back from her, looked into her eyes with a deep frown on his brow. She continued. “The power we all sensed . . . and feared . . . it was yours. It was the power in your soul, and you needed to learn to control it.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “It was evil and malevolent.”

She ran a finger down the line of his jaw. “No, it was tormented and in pain, and when you didn’t control it, it struck out. And now you’re the one in control. I’m so proud of you. When this is done we’ll make a life together.”

“Yes,” he said. “We’ll go back to Elhiyne.”

She shook her head. “No. I can’t live under that old woman’s thumb. Perhaps you can find a little cottage somewhere, with a brook or a stream nearby, and far from Elhiyne.” She knew she was fantasizing, understood it would likely never come to pass.

“There’s one more thing,” she said.

He leaned away from her to look in her face, held her gently by her shoulders. The dim light from the fire in the hearth glinted off the moisture on his cheeks. “What?”

“I need a little of your blood. Just a few drops.”

“Why?”

She hadn’t known what she would do, still wasn’t exactly sure, but the seed of a plan had begun to form. She said, “A little surprise for a little snake.”

••••

Sitting on the bed and sharpening her dagger, Cort watched Tulellcoe pace back and forth in their little room, growing increasingly impatient with every heartbeat. They’d waited well into the night for Morgin to return, and yet nothing. Tulellcoe was not good at waiting.

“Where is he?” he demanded. “He should have been back by now.”

“Calm down,” she said. “I’m sure he’s all right.”

“Something must have happened. Something must have gone wrong. Where is he?”

As if answering his question, Morgin stepped out of the shadow in the corner—alone. Tulellcoe crossed the room and gripped him by the shoulders. “Where’s Rhianne?”

Morgin seemed stunned as he said, “She wouldn’t come, said she has to stay to fight the demon snake. She said a lot of things.”

Cort was struck again by how much the two men looked alike.

“No,” Tulellcoe said. “You shouldn’t have listened to her.”

Morgin looked at Tulellcoe and the stunned look on his face disappeared, as if he’d just come to a decision. “No, uncle, she is strong, much stronger than you realize. Much stronger than I realized.”

Morgin stepped back from Tulellcoe. “She and I have a battle to win. I’ll have an army here in a few days; six armies, in fact. I need you to prepare at this end. I’ll be back tomorrow and I’ll need a horse. The three of us will ride south, so provision the horses with trail rations.” He nodded toward the lamp on the floor. “We’ll need that lamp, so make sure we’ve got a good supply of oil for it.”

He turned, walked to the shadow in the corner but stopped and looked back at them. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back tomorrow, but try to maintain this shadow all day.”

Cort nodded, saw Tulellcoe do the same.

Morgin stepped into the shadow.

••••

Morgin didn’t know any shadows on the border where the Penda and Elhiyne armies had gathered to destroy one another, so when he stepped into the shadow in Cort and Tulellcoe’s room, he sought out a shadow at Castle Elhiyne. It was late, well after sunset, so the shadows in the castle yard had long ago disappeared. But when not under siege, a guard shack just outside the main gates was always manned, with a torch burning outside it that cast a small shadow in the lee of the shack. He stepped into that now.

As he stepped out of the shadow in front of the main gates Mortiss spluttered.
You’re late.

“Sorry,” he said. “We have to get to the border before dawn. Can you manage that?”