Bladesorrow (The Agarsfar Saga Book 1) Read online

  Raldon took in a sharp breath. “Samtimis?”

  “Yes,” Devan said. “Ral Falar was once a thriving community, but it has been wiped from the Path. Wiped from history and the memories of all, save for my people. And even I have begun to have trouble remembering all the details.”

  They were all silent for a time at that. The loss of so many was bad enough. Realizing no one knew of it, and never would, left the mind trembling at how insignificant man was in the Path’s grand scheme.

  Finally, Raldon asked, “That’s tragic. But what makes you think the answer lies there?”

  “Because,” Devan said, running his hands down his face, “my powers can’t touch Ral Falar. Ever since the Great Chaos, time doesn’t work quite right there. Hooves slipping on blood-soaked paths!” he cursed. “Look no further than this conversation—I needed a Linear to remind me of the place. It doesn’t even stick in my memory like it should. I have searched everywhere else. The answer to the Grand Master’s fate must lie there.”

  “I’m right here, Angel,” Bladesorrow growled. “Don’t speak of me like a piece in your game of time.”

  Devan took a deep breath to avoid the cutting words he wanted to offer the man. “Grand Master, we’ve been over this already. As much as you wish to deny it, you are vital to the True Path. And, though you might not wish to hear it, in a way you are right—Val fancied you as a piece in his twisted ploy. And if he ever figures out that you still live, he’ll stop at nothing to use you further.”

  “I’ll play neither his game nor yours, Angel.”

  Flooded path on a stormy night with no cover! The man was difficult.

  “You must, Taul Bladesorrow.” Raldon spoke with the full authority of a once great leader. “You have overcome adversity time and again in your life, always to great result. You will do so again.”

  “Why?” the Grand Master Keeper asked into the flames.

  “Why? Because you are the adopted son of Rikar Bladesong. Because people will die if you do not. And above all? Because you are good.”

  “Bah! Look at where doing good has gotten me.”

  Raldon rose. “My friend,” he placed a hand on Taul’s shoulder. “Good, even beaten for a time, exceeds evil victorious. You will persevere.”

  “I’m no hero, Raldon. I’m just a man.”

  “And that,” Raldon said, giving Taul’s shoulder a shake, “is precisely what makes you the hero we all need.”

  Taul said nothing, but reached over his shoulder to grip Raldon’s hand.

  Stephan had certainly been right about Raldon.

  “Gentlemen,” Devan clapped his hands together and rose. “I must be going. But there are a couple more items. First, this clearing is a thing of my own creation. It does not show on any map; it is inaccessible except to those who know to look for it. A time loop such as this is one of the few ways I can be sure to keep the Grand Master from Val’s prying eyes. As I’ve said, if something were to happen to him before it’s resolved, well... Bad things.”

  He looked to the Grand Master for some sort of acknowledgement. Bladesorrow waved a hand at him and remained staring into the flames.

  “I’ll take that as an ‘I understand.’” When Bladesorrow still didn’t offer a response, Devan sighed and continued. “Alright then. Second. I have erected a portal between here and your study, Master Raldon.”

  “But surely someone will—”

  Devan held up a hand.

  “Only a powerful shadow attuned will be able to access it, so you needn’t worry about it being discovered by any of the good shadow-fearing people of Ral Mok.”

  Raldon opened his mouth as if in protest, but shut it before any words escaped. Instead, he gave Devan a veiled look and nod of understanding. Devan returned it.

  “You will also, I trust, keep an eye on the Grand Master, Master Raldon? Keep him informed of the goings on outside?”

  Raldon nodded, “Of course. I’ll visit from time to time. If you’ll have me, that is, Taul?”

  Bladesorrow gave a mumbled reply from the back of his throat but didn’t turn around. Raldon eyed the man’s back, then approached Devan and asked in a low voice, “Is it wise to keep him here alone? He’s not in the best state.”

  “He won’t be alone. Another resides here. Well, not here here. Not in this house. But in the area; within the time loop. She’ll keep watch over him as well. I believe the two have things to learn from each other.”

  Raldon obviously had questions, but let the matter lie. “Very well,” he consented. “I trust the Aldur in this matter.”

  “You trust them in all matters I presume?”

  Raldon narrowed his eyes, but Devan only gave a dry chuckle.

  “No need to answer that, Master Raldon. I’ll be off now. Grand Master, why don’t you have a seat. Don’t you like this beautiful chair? I have one just like it in my... Oh, never mind.”

  With that, he led Raldon out of the dwelling and peregrinated back to Ral Mok. The man handled it even better than earlier, Devan had to admit. And he was amused to see the same wide-eyed sentinel readmit Raldon through the wicket gate from which he’d left earlier that night.

  But as soon as the door shut behind Ral Mok’s master, all thought of him left Devan’s mind. Every particle of his being was now focused upon his upcoming journey; to a place in which he’d never thought to set foot.

  The Ruins of Ral Falar.

  27

  Ferrin

  The Angel sought to mock the Seven, channeling more shadow than any had before. He lost himself, fell into the Elsewhere some said. When next he was seen, his eyes were black as night. Entire cities were leveled to ash, consumed by the destruction the Seven wrought through their new host.

  -Excerpt from an Old Agarian Folk Tale

  HIS HEAD ACHED; SHOULDER hurt even worse. Though considering what he’d apparently gone through last night—he remembered little—Ferrin figured he was fortunate.

  But lucky or not, he wished Jenzara and Erem would lower their voices. They were arguing again. They’d hardly stopped since he’d awoke. Jenzara countering Erem’s repeated calls for reconsideration, telling him he was welcome to stay behind; Erem calling her bluffs, pointing out Jenzara’s lack of knowledge about the City of Light. This would cow her for a time, but she’d eventually build up courage and renew her defiance and the cycle repeated. Jenzara seemed a different person, fiercely standing up to the stranger who not a day before she’d seemed to fear.

  Whatever had come over her, though, Ferrin wasn’t going to question it. When he’d opened his eyes, lying on a table in Erem’s house, Jenzara had been at his side, grasping his hand. Her smile had been the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Still in a half-conscious haze, he’d reached out to caress a strand of hair from her face. She’d turned a not-unattractive shade of crimson at this, and once he’d realized what he was doing he’d felt his face burn as well. But her smile had remained, and they’d continued to clasp hands long after.

  She hadn’t said anything about the day before. Offered no apology. And he hadn’t looked for one. That smile was all he needed. And if they had a few more moments like they’d had when he first awoke? Well, he didn’t think he’d complain.

  Eventually Erem had spoiled that blissful solitude. Stomping into the house with a frown on his face that would have made young children cry. After giving Ferrin a perfunctory once over and declaring him, “Fit. For now,” Jenzara had explained her plan, while Erem looked on. If Ferrin hadn’t known better, he’d have said the man looked sullen.

  Tragnè City was her was intended destination for them. That was the only place they’d find an alchemist skilled enough to cure him of the shade’s taint. She had tried to downplay the severity of his injury, of course. But Erem was having none of it. The corruption was prowling through his veins like a drowsy predator, he’d said. Subdued for now, but certain to wake and strike before long. That, at least, was something Ferrin could appreciate in Erem. All hornet and no ho
ney.

  Nonetheless, Ferrin disliked having to depend on Erem. He obviously had secrets of his own. Dangerous ones, if the Grand Father was going to such lengths to find him. The way Raldon had spoken, it didn’t seem that Erem’s shadow attunement was his only reason for hiding.

  And even setting aside Erem’s murky past, his arrogance had nearly gotten them all killed last night. Thinking he could take all those shades on his own. If that druid—or whoever this Autumn who lived in the woods was—hadn’t showed up to save them they’d all be dead.

  He’d pulled Jenzara aside to voice his misgivings when Erem had gone out again to gather vegetables for their journey. Confessing what he’d held back from her earlier, he explained that Raldon had told him that Erem was the one for whom Grand Father Valdin had really been searching. He’d thought for sure that would turn her. But she wouldn’t listen to sense. Somehow in a single night she’d gone from ready to run from the man to trusting him implicitly. Something about Raldon having trusted him.

  When Ferrin had pressed further, she’d grown angry and demanded to know if he had a better plan, which he did, of course. The alternative was clear: Leave by themselves. Immediately. If the Parents were after Erem, staying with him was the worst possible way to evade them. And traveling to Tragnè City was pure madness. Might as well return to Ral Mok and give themselves up. He’d read that, after the Disbanding, a number of Keepers had relocated to Ral Zalar, east of Rookesburry Lake. Surely there was a skilled alchemist amongst them who could help.

  But Jenzara wouldn’t hear of leaving Erem.

  “Even if that did work,” she’d asked, “what would you do after?” She insisted Erem knew people in Tragnè City who could help them, though when pressed she wouldn’t, or couldn’t, explain further. But neither would she budge from her insistence on following the man. Eventually, Ferrin had abandoned his efforts to sway her for fear she’d stop talking to him again.

  That had left him plenty of time to dwell on the night before, as Erem and Jenzara both insisted he rest rather than help with preparations. His mind kept returning to the moment he’d channeled at that shade. He’d gathered far more shadow into that hex than he’d dared try previously. The result had been near ecstasy. Channeling was always an empowering experience. Taking intimate control of nature, something more than yourself. But the shadow channel had been something different entirely. The darkness had rolled through him like a sweet dream, soft silk caressing every inch of him. Nearly as good as Jenzara’s smile and her hand in his. It had called to him, asking him to give himself over to it. So good he’d nearly lost control of the channel. Agar only knew what would have happened then.

  He’d never put much thought into what the stories referred to as the Call of the Seven. It was said a man who succumbed to the Call gave the Seven access to all his elemental powers. One folk tale even told of an Angel possessed by the Seven in such a way. A terrifying prospect, as it would allow the Seven to regain power over all five of the elements.

  But that only happened to fools who didn’t know what they were doing. He had controlled it, and the raw power that had coursed from his fingertips and shot into the shade had been astounding. Far superior to any power he’d exerted with other elements. Not even the fire hex he’d used to save himself and Erem matched it. He wanted desperately to channel again, and to learn more. If he was already so powerful without any formal teaching, how much could he improve with just a little guidance? That made traveling with Erem at least somewhat palatable.

  A new round of argument between Jenzara and Erem sent fresh waves of pain through his head.

  “Of course you’ll train him!” Jenzara was saying, almost as if she was scolding a child.

  Erem glowered, and the man’s frown only deepened when he saw Ferrin had heard. Seeing that he couldn’t just ignore his way out of this, Erem said, “Train him? I barely know how to use my own power.”

  “Barely know how to use your power?” Jenzara’s voice rose so high Ferrin felt the urge to cover his ears. “Don’t pull that on me. I know little enough about the shadow, though it’s already more than I wish to.” She frowned, but that was all. A vast improvement over her reactions just a day prior.

  “But I saw what you did last night. You sucked the corruption right out of Ferrin while being resisted by a, a... whatever it was.”

  “Aye. Sucked it out of him and nearly killed myself,” Erem replied. “And I still didn’t cure him. If I had even half the skill you seem to think I possess, he’d be free of corruption and I wouldn’t be packing my ruck sack to walk into almost certain death.”

  Ferrin grimaced, partly because they’d mentioned nothing about Erem nearly dying to save him, but more so because Erem’s resistance to training him was maddening. The man acted as if he hadn’t been a shadow attuned all his life. Utter nonsense. You were born with your attunements and kept them until death.

  Jenzara pursed her lips, an expression Ferrin was quickly coming to realize meant she was considering whether to concede or defy Erem some more. She decided on the latter.

  “Don’t think for a second I believe that your shadow knowledge is limited. As far as I know, you’re not supposed to be able to heal with the shadow at all, much less what I saw you do last night.”

  Ferrin hadn’t thought of that, but she was right. What little reading material he’d been able to find about shadow attuneds confirmed that. Shadow was a destructive element. His own limited experience confirmed it as well. Whenever he reached for the shadow it was like an eruption of power. He doubted he could even fashion it into a defensive shield.

  “And besides,” Jenzara said, “teaching Ferrin how not to get himself killed would be an excellent start. You’ve obviously figured out the not-killing-yourself part.”

  Erem made what Ferrin had already come to think of as the man’s characteristic back-of-the-throat rumble, though it seemed to have diverse meanings. Here, it suggested begrudging acceptance, as if he couldn’t quite believe it’d come to this.

  “Very well. I suppose there are perhaps a few things I could show him.”

  Jenzara shot Ferrin a grin. Then, without looking away from him, said, “Perhaps you could also show him a thing or two about how to acquit himself in a sword fight.”

  Ferrin narrowed his eyes as her grin turned mischievous.

  “I had a fine view of Erem’s tactics while I was hanging from that tree, and I’ve watched my share of sparring sessions. They certainly don’t teach anything like his fighting style at Ral Mok.”

  Ferrin’s ears burned, more at what she’d left unsaid than she’d said aloud. Which was utter rubbish. If he hadn’t become so accustomed to the poor excuses of training partners offered him at Ral Mok, then dispatching Erem would have been no issue.

  “Fine,” Erem said. “But only if you allow me to train you as well.”

  Train Jenzara? The man didn’t want to raise a finger to help him, but he was asking to train her? She wouldn’t even touch a sword.

  “Me?” she asked, eyes widening.

  “Yes, you. I can’t very well walk you into danger without being sure you can handle yourself.”

  Jenzara stared at him for a time, lips pursed. Finally, she looked away. For some reason her face reddened.

  “Deal. You train Ferrin and I’ll work with you as well. But you’ll be disappointed.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that,” Erem said.

  “Let’s just finish our preparations for the trip to Tragnè City,” Jenzara replied, still averting her gaze.

  Erem shook his head. “That’s not where we’re going.”

  Jenzara’s hesitance vanished. It was something, watching her stand up to this man.

  “I thought we had this settled. Ferrin needs help, and we’re not going to find it anywhere else.”

  “It’s certain death,” Erem growled. “There’s only two ways to get there—up through Tarmin, then back south through Will’s Hold; or back South, passing Ral Mok to the West Rive
r Crossing. That second option is none at all with the Grand Father himself at Ral Mok. We certainly can’t risk going that way.”

  “Then we just go up through—

  “Tarmin will be no better. Probably worse. Moon’s Light Abbey is in Tarmin. Nearly as many Parents there as the City of Light itself. And even if we evaded capture, how do you propose we pass through Will’s Hold and the walls it protects? The only place in all of Agarsfar more heavily guarded is Judgment’s Causeway at Doom’s Keep. Rest assured, they’ll have more elemental seers and sniffers at the Hold than Rend could shake a paw at.”

  Jenzara opened her mouth, but snapped it shut, casting a concerned glance at Ferrin. That was the last thing he wanted, her worrying over him. He’d told Raldon that he would take care of her.

  But at the moment, he had more attention for Erem. The man had been packing, so he meant to leave, even if Tragnè wasn’t the destination he intended. And as wary of the man as Ferrin was, avoiding Tragnè City echoed Ferrin’s own thoughts. The City of Light was no place for a shadow attuned, much less two of them. Jenzara had been right. Even if they could find an alchemist willing to help, what would they do after he was cured of whatever the shade had done to him? Perhaps they could find a safe place for Jenzara, but there’d be no respite for him there. He’d merely be trading one death for another.

  “Where then?” Ferrin asked.

  Erem looked from him to Jenzara, then back, face expressive as a brick wall.

  “North.”

  Ferrin grasped his meaning immediately, but Jenzara either missed it, or chose to ignore it.

  “North?” she said, doubtful. “Father spoke of Port Lustin often. Good markets. And the Temple’s presence there isn’t particularly strong. But I’ve never heard of an alchemist there with any skill.”

  “Not north,” Erem said. “The North. We’ll head for Trimale City. We stick to the cover the Woods of Falume provide as long as we can, then take Corim’s Crossing, continue on to Riverdale and cross Her Lady’s Justices there. We can seek refuge at Glofar before reaching Trimale if needed. Once, I knew the dwarfs there. Perhaps some remain.”