Terry Simpson - The Shadowbearer

“Until then, peace be with you, and may Ilumni guide you.”

Guban started, before translating to the King, who frowned, then clasped his hands, and gave a slight bow of reverence.

Stefan returned the sentiment before yanking his reins to turn his dartan and trot away. When he was out of earshot of the Erastonians he finally let out the breath he held. “Well that went well.”

“A little too much so,” the High Shin said dryly. “Do you mind telling me how you managed to Forge where no other Matii should have been able to? King Jelani asked about what you did almost as much as he suggested killing you.” She paused. “In fact, you cannot Forge, you’re a Dagodin.”

Stefan grinned. “I would say I do mind and leave you and yours to ponder the question from the next several years, but you would hound me down until you found your answers.”

“Well?”

“First, I didn’t Forge.”

“But-”

“People believe what they think they see. Fear is a powerful thing.”

“So what did you do?”

“Me? I did nothing besides wave my hand and look fancy, but he doesn’t need to know that, does he?” Stefan waited for Clarice to understand.

Kasimir caught on first, sucking in a breath as he did so. “You had another Ashishin close by but out of range of the Warping.”

Stefan rolled his hand in front of him and made a mock bow as if performing at a play.

“How …” Clarice began. Her brows drew together. “She or he was Masked. Risky. Any slight move on their part would have revealed them.”

“A worthy risk in this case.”

“It’s a wonder the Erastonians never suspected,” Clarice said.

“Fear.” Stefan shrugged. “I simply used their own plan against them and their emotions did the rest.”

“Who was it?” The High Shin turned slightly, her eyes scanning the area behind them.

“You have your secrets and I have mine.”

Clarice cocked her head to one side to regard Stefan. “Fair enough, but how did you know they would use a Warping?”

“I didn’t, but if I was in their shoes, I would make sure I had some precautions against Matii. Accepting that nothing is beyond your opponent leaves you well prepared.”

The High Shin nodded.

They continued riding, no one saying a word. The wind picked up, dry leaves and brush skittering across the ground before it, as the foremost part of the storm began to drift over. Behind them the Erastonian war horns blared twice, the drums thumped, and marching boots rumbled.

Kasimir broke their silence. “What I really want to know is how you plan to keep what happened here from reaching Nerian’s ears.”

“Easily.” Stefan smiled at Kasimir’s blank face. “We were defeated. Dead almost to a man. I alone will report our failure to Nerian, while you take what’s left of the army into the Barrier Mountains. You’ll await word from me there.”

Kasimir gaped. “Sir, you can’t do that. Or at least let me accompany you.”

“I have no choice but to return, Kas. My family is still in Benez. Nerian has them watched day and night. Secreting the families of our men out of Seti over the years proved hard enough. There was no way I could do the same for mine without drawing more suspicion.”

“I will have to agree,” Clarice said. “It makes no sense risking more than necessary at this point. Besides, Nerian expected you to be defeated. Whether he will play this out seeing you as his old friend or simply another who failed against the Erastonians and deserves to be beheaded is another question altogether.”

“I don’t think I have anything to worry about there,” Stefan said.

Nerian still wanted the sword after all.

By the time they reached the encampment, the thunderstorm had swallowed their surroundings, turning late morning into dusk. The Erastonians had disappeared within the blinding sheets of rain, their drums, horns, and marching feet washed away by heaven’s bellows. With Kasimir and Clarice following on his heels, Stefan entered the tent, happy to get out of the rain and the sucking slog of mud. Torchlight flickered within the pavilion’s confines, throwing back the dimness the storm wrought. Outside, the wind’s howls waxed and waned, and rain drummed an accordant percussion.

Deliberately not addressing her by title, Stefan said, “You know what’s required, Clarice.” He faced her and braced himself. “Get to it.”

The High Shin’s eyes glinted angrily, and her face flushed.

“I still don’t agree-” Kasimir began.

The flick of Clarice’s hand and Stefan’s subsequent painful cry cut him off.

Heat spilled through Stefan in a rising wave, followed by stings and burning sensations all across his body. A final, agony-riddled surge ripped along his abdomen as if someone slashed his stomach with a sharp blade. His hand immediately went to the area. Blood spilled over his fingers. Fatigue attempted to suck him under as if he’d dueled a dozen foes.

Gasping, he uttered, “Enough.”

Kasimir rushed to his side and steadied him. “He said make it look good, not try to kill him.”

“I hardly tried to kill him,” Clarice said, her voice bearing a hint of satisfaction. “Anyone who inspects those wounds will think he’s been in a deadly battle.”

Stefan eased his eyes shut, gritting his teeth to quell the pain. “It’s fine,” he said in a raspy whisper. “If she went too easy, it would have been obvious.” He sagged against Kasimir’s arm.

“Maybe you should mend him a little.”

“No. Any competent Forger will be able to tell.”

“Don’t do anything that wouldn’t seem natural,” Stefan said. Still clutching his side, he limped over to his table with Kasimir helping to keep him on his feet the entire way. “Here, this is where I need to go.” He pointed north of a town named Karsten. “A Travelshaft is there at a main stationing point for our forces. They’ll be able to mend me enough to get me home safely.”

“I could simply take you near Benez,” Clarice said.

Stefan frowned despite the pain. “I doubt you know the area well enough to Materialize me to the city. Even if you did, Nerian has wards placed all throughout the capital and its surroundings.”

“So you are assuming I know this Karsten. You are also assuming I can manage to take you despite all the energy I already expended with my Forgings.” Clarice shook her head. “I need more time to recover.”

Stefan coughed. “I assume nothing. I didn’t ask you to take me, did I?”

Clarice’s eyes shot open. Immediately, she glanced around. “Your secret Ashishin is in here with us, isn’t she?”

“Kasimir, show out our dear High Shin.” Stefan lifted his arm from over Kasimir’s and leaned against the table.

Kasimir bowed, touching fist to heart. “After you, High Shin,” he said, hand on his sword hilt.

“You dare-”

“It’s not what I dare, High Shin Clarice. I do what I must as you have learned by now. For this, I trust those closest to me. I have already accepted the Tribunal’s help in good faith. I even allowed you to know by what method I would return to Benez. That alone should suffice for you to show some faith in me. Accompany her to her tent.”

Face a flushed mask, Clarice nodded. “As you wish.” She spun on her heels and stalked out into the rain. Kasimir followed.

“Why didn’t you let me do this?” High Shin Galiana Calestis’ voice hissed from the height of Stefan’s chest. From nothing, she appeared next to him, crimson robes bearing two more stripes than Clarice’s. Concern clouded her golden eyes as she inspected his wounds.

Stefan braced a hand against her shoulder. “No. You or Kasimir would have went too easy on me. She took some goading, but I got the result I wanted. At the same time I kept her off balance.”