Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain - The Darker Road

Vlahna led them from the entry point to the banks of the Clearflow. The river, she said, was to be their constant companion until they joined the Golden Way. It rushed along over rocks and through stands of weeds. The shallows often had a skin of ice over them.

Up and down the line of wagons, Ashok saw breath fogs and people huddling under their cloaks. The more they traveled in this climate, the more they would grow accustomed to it, but the sudden shock of the open cold stiffened everyone’s movements. It would get worse the longer they were on the road that day.

Despite the frigid air and their initial stumble, the caravan moved along at a steady pace for two miles until the sound of hoofbeats from the east made Tuva call a halt. Ashok and the brothers rode up their flank to support a defense, but everyone relaxed when they saw it was the shadar-kai party returned from hunting the ambushers.

“What news, Kaibeth?” Tuva said.

A woman with short, yellowish hair and a tattoo of a spider clutching her shoulder spoke up. “We lost them in the hills. The terrain became too rough for the horses, but the bandits knew their path. Wherever they went had to be underground.”

“There can’t be many of them,” said another of the sellswords. He had an ugly set of burn scars that covered his right cheek. “Unless they’ve tunneled under the whole countryside.”

“It’s probably an outpost. They’ll wait for cover of dark and ride off to warn their larger force,” Kaibeth said.

“Agreed,” Tuva said. “Nothing to do now but wait for them. Back to your places, you six. The rest of you, this isn’t a pleasure ride. We move forward.”

The group broke up. Ashok saw Kaibeth watching him. She smirked when she rode by.

“Hope you didn’t bruise your backside falling off that horse,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen an emissary of Tempus felled by a cheap crossbow bolt.”

Ashok stared back at her and said nothing. He saw that she wore the symbol of Beshaba, goddess of misfortune, as a tattoo on her neck. The others in her group laughed as they returned to the front of the line. Ashok paid no attention. He should have known how it would be with the sellswords. To them, he was still Ikemmu’s champion, higher in rank and favor.

Beshaba had been Vedoran’s adopted goddess. He’d worshiped misfortune-or at least had given the appearance of worshiping it-until the day Ashok killed him.

Ashok had not witnessed Vedoran’s funeral rites. He’d been too weak from his tenday in the dark to see how the city bade farewell to the warrior. Had Uwan spoken on Vedoran’s behalf, coaxed his soul on to Beshaba’s realm? Something inside Ashok told him the leader would have prayed for Vedoran-whereas Ashok had done his best not to think of the warrior since the day he died.

Beneath him, the nightmare whickered restlessly and broke Ashok from his thoughts. He looked around at the landscape and felt again that sense of movement, of things watching him from vast distances. It was a strange sensation, this rolling motion. The wind stirred the grass, the river threaded rocks and weeds, and now the caravan joined the constant motion.

Part of the threat he felt was the ambushers. Ashok saw it in Tuva and Vlahna as well, in the way they rode their horses out east and west of the caravan’s path to scout. Every hour or so Cree or Skagi would venture out behind them, and more than once Ashok saw Kaibeth ride ahead to check the path.

As far as Ashok could tell, it was early morning when they’d come through the portal, but, as the day went on, the hills gave way to flat, open country. With fewer places for attackers to hide, the caravan crew relaxed a bit and eventually, Vlahna called a halt. The drovers hopped down from the wagons and waddled, stiff-backed, to check the horses. The other passengers immediately did the same. Ashok could see they were weary and grateful to be out of the jostling, bumping wagons.

“Before you get too comfortable,” Vlahna called out to them, “let me remind all of you that it’s not near dark yet, and that means we’ve many more miles to cover. This is a catch-your-breath stop-nothing more. We move out when I give the word and not five breaths after that.”

Low-voiced grumbling threaded among the crew, but it was mostly good-natured. Ashok got down from the nightmare’s back and led him to the river. He watched his and the stallion’s reflection as he bent to drink. Again he had to marvel at the variety here, the water plants that grew out from the bank, the green algae, and even a few bright yellow flowers that had survived the first of the killing frosts. Life was going dormant all around him, but there were still small signs of how different that life was from what grew underground.

He pulled one of the flowers out of the ground by its roots. As he examined it, he heard soft laughter coming from nearby.

Some of the passengers and guards had wandered down by the river. Ashok was aware of them, but he hadn’t noticed one of the humans watching him. She wore leather armor and a helm underneath which he could see strands of dark curly hair.

The physical appearance of the other races always struck Ashok, especially that of the humans. They were so much like the shadar-kai in stature and build, but they had markedly varied skin colors that changed according to their emotions or environment. When she removed her helm, Ashok saw this one’s face was dark and creased from where the helm had rubbed her skin. Of course, her eyes affected him most of all.

Human eyes with their three-sometimes more-colors fascinated Ashok. Black at the center blended to blue, brown or maybe amber, then the whites with their spidery red tendrils branching off in delicate rivers.

He didn’t realize he’d been staring at the human woman in silence until she chuckled again.

“Why do you laugh?” he asked her, feeling a stab of irritation. He’d been laughed at enough today.

“I forgot what you looked like,” she said. She surprised him by speaking the shadar-kai tongue-Common was the accepted language among the caravan crew-but Ashok thought she must not know what she was saying.

“I don’t understand,” he said.

She waved a hand. “Forgive me, that didn’t make any sense, did it? I’m trying to say that you’ve never been to Faerun before.”

“How do you know that?”

“I see the signs.” She plucked the flower out of his hand and tossed it in the river. They watched it float away. “You squint, you touch things as if they’re breakable, and you walk around in a daze. I used to go on caravan runs with new shadar-kai all the time, but it’s been so long since we’ve had one come through with us that it took me by surprise.” She stepped forward and extended her hand. “I’m sorry-I don’t mean to laugh. My name is Mareyn. I work for the Martuck family.”

She spoke quickly, with a crisp accent Ashok had never heard in Ikemmu. He clasped her hand. “I’m Ashok. The Martucks are traders?”

“Some of them are.” She glanced around. “The husband and wife are more than competent, but the boy would rather be anywhere else. I think his parents were hoping the caravan trip would put the fever in his blood, if you know what I mean.”

When Ashok merely looked at her, she smiled uncertainly. “You’re newer than new, aren’t you?”

“Back to your posts-we’re moving out!”

Vlahna’s call came from upriver. Ashok stood and followed Mareyn and the others back up a short rise to the wagons.

“We’ll talk again,” Mareyn said when he turned to head for the back of the caravan.

Ashok started to ask her what they were going to manage to talk about when he could barely understand her, but she was already gone. She took up a position with a crossbow in one of the wagons. Ashok saw the boy, the youngest Martuck, was there too. The two of them spoke for a breath, and though Ashok couldn’t hear what they said, he had a good idea what they were talking about when the boy turned to stare at him.