Jaleigh Johnson - Unbroken Chain - The Darker Road

Daruk waved a hand and the figures vanished, wreathing him briefly in a cloak of smoky vapor. He bowed and stayed bent so he was at eye level with Ilvani. “What do you think of this story, witch?”

Ashok sat tense, but Ilvani just stared at him with a detached curiosity, the way she often scrutinized the trees or bushes. “You talk a child’s truth,” she said blandly, “black and white, the colors are right. I can make a rhyme, but it doesn’t make it true.”

Skagi burst out laughing, and there were even chuckles among the sellswords. Daruk smiled, exposing rows of white teeth. He bowed deeper to the witch and went back to his place by the fire. He started singing a low-voiced melody that eased the tension in the air. The humans talked among themselves, and the Martucks got up to dance to the slow music. After a while, a few of the others-all humans-joined them.

Ashok and Mareyn moved to the main fire to sit with Ilvani, who watched the humans and their gentle movements.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Skagi grumbled. “What did he mean with all that godsdamned smoke?”

“A shadow puppet show with the gods-I didn’t think Daruk was quite that arrogant,” Mareyn said.

“Or foolish, to taunt the shadar-kai like that,” Cree said.

“Doesn’t matter-Ilvani put him in his place, didn’t you, witch?” Skagi said.

Ilvani didn’t appear to be listening. “Dancing isn’t a punishment,” she said.

Ashok followed her gaze to the Martucks, who danced close together in each other’s arms. “Not the way they do it,” he agreed.

“Is that why none of the shadar-kai are dancing?” Mareyn said. “I know your people dance. I’ve seen the fire circles.” She grabbed Ashok’s hand. Reluctantly, Ashok let her pull him to his feet.

They walked to the fire and joined the rhythm of the dance. At first, Ashok remained distracted by Daruk’s performance. Cree was right. The bard had done it deliberately to provoke the shadar-kai. Was it just a ploy to stoke their anger and stimulate their souls, or was there a deeper meaning?

“What’s wrong?” Mareyn asked, drawing his attention back to the dance.

“Nothing,” Ashok said. He pulled her closer in imitation of the Martucks.

As the dance continued, Ashok found himself analyzing the experience to see how it affected him. There was no danger, of course, no pain-the pleasure came in holding his partner, sharing the ritual as they moved in tandem. The mutual pleasure fed off itself and heightened Ashok’s awareness of Mareyn. Her nearness brought him her scent, and he felt the ridges of her muscled shoulders under his hands. She let him explore the angles and curves up and down her arms and back as they danced, while her fingers toyed with the scars on his neck.

Daruk’s song and their slow, rhythmic swaying had a lulling effect on Ashok’s mind, but he was not afraid. His body understood the purpose of the ritual. The purpose is not peace, Ashok thought, but prelude. The dance was a joining, though not in the same way his people experienced it in the fire circles. He recognized the connection between him and his partner, though it had been a long time since he’d felt it. He waited for her to guide him, and she did.

Daruk’s melody carried on for some minutes, but Mareyn led Ashok away from the firelight and deeper into the ruins. He followed, his hand held lightly in hers.

Ilvani watched Ashok and Mareyn disappear among the battered stones. The music tapered off, and the dancers headed off to sleep. She noticed Kaibeth and most of her sellswords had sought out partners-some human, some shadar-kai-for their own liaisons. Kaibeth led Cree to her bedroll, and Skagi moved off with one of the human guards. None of them would risk fading again, not tonight.

Ilvani felt eyes on her and looked up to see Daruk coming toward her. The bard sat down in the spot Ashok had vacated and nodded to where he and Mareyn had disappeared.

“See that? Somebody appreciates my music,” he said. He looked at her narrowly. “Or perhaps you didn’t want the song to end that way? If so, my deepest apologies.” He put his hand, fingers spread, over his heart in a gesture that was anything but sincere.

“I wasn’t listening to the song,” Ilvani said.

He laughed. “Of course you weren’t. You truly don’t care that he’s with her, do you? I thought I had it all sorted out between the two of you, the way he watches you all the time. It’s strange. If you were human-”

“I’m not,” Ilvani said. “Neither is he.”

“You’re both a bit odd, on top of that. Which one is the more broken, I wonder?” Daruk said idly.

At that, a small, wicked smile lit Ilvani’s face. “You are,” she said. “The rest of us are at least trying to mend ourselves, but you revel in being broken, Daruk, exiled bard of Netheril. Daruk, beloved of Shar.”

The amusement died out of his eyes, but his voice remained serene. “Did Tatigan tell you that?”

Ilvani shook her head. “I’m a collector, too, but I don’t want most of the secrets I hear on the wind.”

“You’re a prophet, just like your brother was,” the bard said. “Does Tempus whisper the future in your ear?”

“No, I hear only insects buzzing, insects and bards,” she said.

His good humor restored, he laughed. “My apologies again. I wasn’t paying proper attention to you before, but I will, starting now. You’re going to be a player in this game of mine, aren’t you?”

“Whether I choose to or not,” Ilvani said. She glanced toward the stones where Ashok and Mareyn had disappeared. “That’s the way it’s going to be.”

Later, Daruk sat with Tatigan before one of the smaller fires. The flames were slowly dying, though Tatigan poked the embers valiantly with a stick. Giving up, he took out a bottle of Theskian wine and filled two goblets. Daruk took his and drained it in a couple of swallows. Tatigan sighed at the waste of a good vintage.

“I recognize that look on your face,” Daruk said dryly. “I’ve done something to disappoint you again. Gods, how I hate to fail you, Tatigan. What is it this time?”

“You shouldn’t provoke them,” Tatigan scolded the bard, “not out here in the wilderness. They’re not playing a game. All they see is you insulting their gods, and for that offense, the less disciplined among them could turn on you in a heartbeat. They are ruled by passions you obviously cannot comprehend.”

Daruk lay down on his bedroll with his hands clasped behind his head and one leg thrown over his knee. He closed his eyes, but a wide smile split his dark face. “Are you honestly suggesting I should be afraid of Ikemmu’s shadar-kai?” The distaste was thick in his voice.

“You’re a long way from home,” Tatigan pointed out. “If you’re going to dwell in Ikemmu, you’d do worse than to make a few friends among its warriors.”

Daruk sighed. “I tried with Ashok, but I don’t think he likes me, which is a shame. I could compose songs about that one, battle anthems that might fill the hole in my poor heart.”

“You think Ashok will fill the void left by Netheril?” Tatigan shook his head. “No man can replace an empire.”

“He’s the only warrior in Ikemmu whose skill and taste for blood rival that of the shadar-kai of Netheril,” Daruk said. “If he’d been raised in the empire, I’d already be writing songs about him.”

“But he wasn’t and you’re not,” Tatigan said. “Instead, you’re on the run from the same people you hold in such reverence. If they found you, they’d happily tear you to pieces.”

He poured more wine for them both. “The shadar-kai of the Shadowfell, especially Ashok, won’t be the domesticated creatures of the Shades. I’ve made a study of both peoples. They have a different destiny than their forebears. Whether it’s to destroy themselves or make a civilization in Ikemmu, I honestly couldn’t say.”