Sean Russell - The Shadow Roads

The remaining creatures crashed into the dark wood, thesounds of their progress loud over the howl of the wind. They were gone.

The riders dismounted and immediately began beating out theflames with their cloaks. Wolfson took up the ruins of someone’s bedding anddid the same, flailing at the burning grass, coughing from the smoke. Tamsheathed his sword and followed the giant’s example, choking and covering hismouth. But the flames fought back, refusing to be beaten, consuming all thefuel left by a dry summer.

Tam wondered if the whole hill would catch fire, perhapseven spreading down into the valley, when a drop of cool rain splattered on hisforehead and ran down into his eye. In a moment it was raining hard, and thefire was failing. One of the strangers made an effort to keep flames in thefire pit, and by this frail light Tam and the others gathered their trampledbelongings, some of which had been spread far beyond the small circle of light.

“I don’t know what use a boar would have with my sparebreeches,” Fynnol said, “but clearly one of these foul beasts made off withthem.” He was rooting about in the bushes on the edge of the darkness. “That’sprobably why they attacked-not a stitch to wear among the lot of them.”

The men who had come to their rescue were obviously the menfrom the giants’ keep, the men the Dubrell had gone to such pains to hide. Thestrangers kept glancing at Alaan and the others, their gazes filled withquestions.

Two of the giant boars lay dead not far from the fire, andTam could see them now. They were gray-skinned, short-legged, and armed withtusks like daggers.

“Shall we spit one and roast it?” Fynnol asked, coming up besideTam, who stood staring at one of the monsters.

“You won’t want to eat them,” one of the riders said, hisaccent not so thick as the giants’. “The meat is foul and will give you thebelly torment. Some people it’s killed.”

Tam turned away from the beast and came back to the fire,cool rain streaming down his face and neck, soaking his clothing. On the edgeof the small clearing, Wolfson was speaking with the man Tam guessed was theleader of the riders. Their impenetrable accent kept Tam from understandingtheir words, but it was clear they were arguing, and the man was red-faced withanger.

Some riders had posted themselves as guards around the camp’sperimeter, but the others gathered with the outlanders around the fire. Thedownpour had slowed to light drizzle so that the drying power of the fire wasjust greater than the rain’s ability to make them wet. There was no otherconversation in the camp, and no one would look at the giant and the angryrider, but all ears strained to pick up what was being said above the drummingrain and the harshly moaning wind.

With a final shouted word, the rider turned and stalkeddirectly to the fire. He took a seat on an empty saddle, which had obviouslybeen set out for him, and stared a moment at the flames. Tam thought the manwas trying to calm himself.

Wolfson did not move, but watched the men seated around thefire, his face filled with concern.

The captain of the riders looked up from the flames. “So youhave come from the land beyond,” he said evenly.

Alaan nodded, glancing once at Wolfson, who stood in thedark and rain, alone. A wolf trotted up and licked the giant’s hand, as thoughit sensed his need for comfort.

“From the land of men …?” the rider said.

“Yes,” Alaan admitted, “from the land of men.”

This caused a stir among the riders, who glanced one to theother, as though Alaan had confirmed something miraculous.

“Our ancestors came from the land of men,” the rider said. “Eightgenerations my people have dwelt here, in Borenfall. Orlem Slighthand led myancestors here to aid the Dubrell, and we have been here ever since.”

“Slighthand!” Alaan said, surprised. Tam could see thetraveler in the firelight, rain like dewdrops on his beard, running down hisface like tears. His eyes darted from one rider to the next as though he wereweighing them-weighing the truth of this last statement.

Slighthand!

“You know of Slighthand?” the captain asked.

“I know of Slighthand,” Alaan agreed. “Why did he bring yourpeople here? Were you mercenaries?”

The captain of the riders shared a glance with the manbeside him. “We were members of a knightly order that Orlem Slighthand hadfounded with another named Kilydd. Orlem had become lost in the land of men,where he met a sorcerer who gave him the power to travel hidden lands. TheDubrell were besieged by men from the south, and Orlem brought my people to aidthe Dubrell, whose enemy was cunning and ruthless. We have dwelt here since, onlands the Dubrell granted us.” He pointed. “Not far to the east. OrlemSlighthand promised that we would one day return to the lands of men.”

“It is a only a story,” Wolfson said, coming and standingover the men seated by the fire-looming over them.

Tam realized then that the giants had been hiding hiscompany from the riders-not the other way around.

“But you are Knights of the Vow,” Fynnol said. “Isn’t thattrue?”

The riders all stared at this new voice, but none of them answered.

“We found a token of the Knights of the Vow in the courtyard,”Alaan explained. “A small broach made in the form of a fan of sil-veroakleaves. It is the token of a knightly order in the lands of men.”

The riders shifted in their seats, not meeting Alaan’s gaze.

“Don’t speak of this matter, if you’d rather not,” Alaansaid. “How many of your people are there?”

“Six thousand,” the captain said. “Two thousand aremen-at-arms.”

“Would you leave us now,” Wolfson cried, “in our greatestneed?”

“Eight generations we have given to your struggle!” thecaptain spat out. “We would go to the land of men, where there is peace.”

Alaan sat back and ran a hand through his wet hair. “Thesame enemy threatens our lands. The same war spreads everywhere. I know nothingof your accord with the Dubrell, but it appears to me that your part in the waris to fight here. When the war is over, I will come and lead you back to theland of men, or I will send another to do so.”

Wolfson turned away, as though a sudden pain coursed throughhim.

The captain of the riders rose up from his saddle to standbefore Alaan. “This war does not end,” he said firmly. “We could come with younow.”

Alaan shook his head. “I travel south, into the borderlandsof the shadow kingdom-”

“You will not return from that place,” the rider said,distressed. “It is the place of nightmares, of unspeakable horrors.” He waved ahand at the giant boar that lay two dozen feet away. “These are the least ofthe monsters that come from the south. The Hand of Death will steal the lifefrom you. You will lead no one back to the land of men, for you will be drawninto the darkness.”

Alaan shrugged. “I have traveled into the borderlands ofDeath’s kingdom once before. I returned unharmed. I see no reason why Ishouldn’t do so again.”

“The borderlands were quiet then,” Wolfson interjected. “Thethreat was small. Now monstrosities appear on dark nights. And newmonstrosities far too often. My people die defending our borders.” He gesturedto the captain. “Nathron’s people die.”

“Even so, that is where I must go. The safety of all ourpeoples depends on it.” He stood and looked the captain of the Knights in theeye. “I will return for you. Or send another. I swear.”

They lay in the long grass, trying not to breathe. Lord Carllooked over at Jamm, his battered face turning slowly crimson. With ribs thatwere either broken or badly bruised, thanks to the ministrations of the Dukeof Vast, Jamm could hardly keep his breathing quiet. Carl was terrified thatthe thief would cough and give them away, for he had coughed much the nightbefore.