The Immortals of Myrdwyer amob-3 Read online

  Laedron studied the man and noted that the bookseller seemed rather young compared to the presumed age of the Farrah Harridan novel. “Have you always owned this place?”

  “It’s been in my family for quite some time. If you would care to, you could return with it tomorrow, and I’ll ask my mother to come along and see about it.”

  “No way to see her today?”

  A concerned demeanor draped Shanden’s face. “She’s elderly and infirmed, I’m afraid. She has her good days and her bad days, and this is one of the bad ones. To be honest, I fear that she may have few months left in her.”

  “Then, tomorrow?”

  Shanden nodded.

  * * *

  “Another night’s stay?” Marac sat on one of the long benches in the inn’s common room. “I hoped we’d be on our way by now.”

  Laedron joined Marac at the table. “Little we can do. The only lead we have is this Shanden’s mother.”

  “I can think of worse places to spend the night,” Brice said, sitting across from Laedron. “An old, abandoned church in Azura readily comes to mind.”

  “You can say that again.” Valyrie sat next to Laedron and snatched an apple from a fruit bowl. “I only spent one night there, and my back still aches when I recall the bedding.”

  “Mine still aches from it,” Marac said, reaching back and massaging the base of his spine. “The fight with Andolis and our time on the ship didn’t help, either.”

  Laedron reached for his wand. “I can-”

  “No, no. It’ll be fine.”

  “Why do you stop me? With the wave of a wand, I could take all of the pain away.”

  “And leave me with nothing but pleasant feelings?” Marac asked, hovering over a loaf of bread. “A little pain is good for you, my father used to say. Reminds us that we’re still alive. Keeps us fighting.”

  Laedron tilted his head in confusion, but who was he to force Marac to do one thing or another? “As you wish. You need only tell me if you change your mind.”

  * * *

  Having finished his evening meal, Laedron stood and said, “We’ll meet here in the morning.”

  “What will you do?” Marac asked. “The night’s young.”

  “I thought I might work on my new spell-”

  “The one where you appear and vomit?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Marac glanced at Valyrie. “Maybe you can convince him not to do anything dangerous.”

  “It’ll be fine.” Laedron reached the bottom of the stairs. “I’ve considered things, and I believe I have a solution.”

  Marac shook his head. “Please, take care. The more you meddle with new magic, the more nervous I become.”

  Without another word, Laedron ascended the stairs, and Valyrie followed him to their room. Once the door was closed, he retrieved his old notes that he’d tucked into one of the Zyvdredi spellbooks and reviewed what he’d written of his traveling spell. He was unable to purge his thoughts of the nausea that had accompanied it; the sickness quivered in his belly at the idea of uttering the incantation again, but to leave the spell tucked away would mean its end, as if he’d never invented it in the first place.

  “Anything I can do to help?” Valyrie asked.

  “Keep practicing your vibrancy illusions.” He picked up a quill, dipped it in ink, and perused his notations.

  Holding the wand before her, she chanted, and the spell flickered. Her words and motions faded into the background as he concentrated, searching for a way to improve his spell and to rid it of the negative side effects. For a moment, he felt how he thought a regular student of magic might, the death, destruction, and underhanded dealings swept away and only spellcraft remaining. Try as he might, he was unable to forget the reason that he found himself in a strange, foreign land, hundreds of miles from his mother, sister, and everything familiar.

  There must be a way to prevent the spinning and tumbling he thought, scratching some notes on the back of the paper. Then, it hit him like a flash-bolt. Encasing.

  He imagined manipulating the space around the target of the spell instead of affecting a person directly. Like the shell of an egg. A protective barrier, with calm and serenity within. The shell travels, carrying the contents inside.

  He barely noticed his tongue poking through his lips at the corner of his mouth, an almost involuntary reaction to deep contemplation. He wrote faster. Like a madman, he scrawled line after line until the page had been filled. Throwing the papers aside, he shot up from the bed.

  Valyrie spun around with a look of surprise, her spell fading from existence. “What’s gotten into you, Lae?”

  “Sorry. I think I have the answer to my little problem.”

  “This time, I’m going with you.” She returned the wand to its sheath at her belt.

  “No, you can’t-”

  “Yes, I must. If Marac expects me to keep you out of trouble, I go where you go.”

  “It might not be safe.”

  “I didn’t agree to come with you because it was safe, Laedron Telpist.”

  He nodded. “Right. Stand close, then.”

  With a wave of his wrist and a chant in Uxidin, a spinning sphere of energy formed around them. He closed his eyes and focused on the destination.

  * * *

  When the swirling energy dispersed, Laedron scanned the immediate area. Finding that no one had seemed to notice their sudden appearance, he took Valyrie’s hand. Thankfully, he had not been afflicted with the nausea and dizziness he experienced the last time he had cast the spell. The change worked.

  Her crystal blue eyes met his, then she turned to the sea before them. “Why this spot, Lae?”

  “I’ve always liked being at the seaside.” He looked out across the waves. “It’s not much different from my life, really. We both-the shore and me-sit between two worlds, and we’re not truly a part of either. For the bank, it’s the land and the sea, but for me, it’s the magical and the plain.”

  “I don’t understand. You’re a sorcerer, so aren’t you a part of the magical world?”

  “Only to a point. I never completed my training. I’ve come far, but I haven’t learned the secrets or the traditions. It’s like being a sparrow living with chickens; you can fly, which is spectacular to the others, but you’re still an outsider.”

  “What would make things better?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know if anything can. The academy and my teacher are gone, the sorcerers usurped and scattered, and little is left of the old ways. I-” He choked and looked away.

  “What, Lae?” She put her arm around his shoulders.

  “I don’t even know if Ma and Laren are still alive.” He took a deep breath, trying to steel himself. “No need to be burdened with that right now. Ma used to tell me not to worry unless I had something to worry about.”

  “She would be correct. Wise words.” She stared at him, then looked all around. “Are we still in Lasoron?”

  He pointed over his shoulder. “Nessadene lies behind us. I noticed this spot when we sailed into the harbor.”

  “The city seems so far from here. How far do you think we could travel with that spell?”

  “Difficult to say.”

  “Across seas?”

  “I wouldn’t want to risk it. A spell can last only as long as the caster can concentrate. If I lost my focus, we could land in the middle of the ocean.”

  Stepping down onto the beach, she pulled him along behind her. “And what, mighty sorcerer, will you do once you’re through with adventuring?”

  “What do you mean?” He sat beside her on the sand.

  “You said something about returning home. To Sorbia?”

  Having occupied his mind with crafting his spell, he had almost forgotten what his home looked like. “I haven’t considered it, to be honest. I suppose that returning home will be the reward, if I make it that long.”

  “You don’t think you will?”

  “If I knew how long this las
t piece of our journey will take, I might be more optimistic. We have no way of knowing.”

  She took his hand in hers once more. “Yes, but what about after you return home? You have no plans for the future?”

  “Of course.” He looked down at her hands massaging his and felt a tingle crawl up his arm.

  “Well?” She smiled. “It’s difficult to talk to a man who won’t speak.”

  “Before all this, little care was ever given to what I thought.”

  “You don’t have to worry about that now. Like it or not, the world’s opened its eyes and ears to you, Lae.”

  “Sometimes I wish more than anything that the world would be blind and deaf to me again. What good is an audience when they watch you only to see you suffer?”

  “Good things have happened, too. Or do you deny that?”

  “Good things, yes. Plenty of bad, too.”

  Her reaction to his words spoke volumes. Her face told of her pain, her anguish at losing her father, but he also saw hope in her eyes.

  “I need not tell you that. You know of the bad things just as I do.”

  “I can only hurt so much before I need to feel joy,” she said, inching closer. “For the first time in a long time, I can honestly say that I feel happy. I only ask what you see in the future because I want to share in your hopes and dreams.”

  He stared at the water, the wind pushing the surface just enough in some places to cap the waves with white foam. “Someone will have to bring back the things that once were.”

  “The things that once were?” She hugged tighter to his arm.

  “From the ashes of the magic academy, a new one must be built. New mages must be trained to carry on our traditions, our ways.”

  “Does the task lie at your feet? Did no one else survive?”

  “Victor. Perhaps he would be best suited for the job.”

  “I remember the name, but I cannot place him. Another mage?”

  “Yes. He took me in when I had lost my way. When I was in Morcaine, I tried to join the army-”

  “You?”

  He straightened his back and puffed out his chest. “Something wrong with that?”

  “You don’t seem the type.”

  “Suppose I don’t feel the same way?” He tensed. “You don’t think I can stand up and fight for what I believe?”

  “No, Lae,” she said, wrapping her arm around his back and squeezing him. “From the moment I laid eyes on you, I didn’t think you were that kind of man. I couldn’t see you fitting into the uncompromising lifestyle of a soldier, and I still can’t.”

  He relaxed a little. “At the time, I saw no other way. I wanted to help in any way I could, but it took Count Millaird to guide me. He arranged my passage to Westmarch, where I came under the care of the Order of the Shimmering Dawn and Victor Altruis.”

  “And from there, your adventure led you to Azura. To me.”

  He grinned. “Yes.”

  “I’m glad we found each other.”

  “Me, too.” He sat quietly in her embrace for a few moments before asking, “What do you see in the future?”

  Her eyes shifted. “Well… I keep thinking about what you said. That you cared deeply for me.”

  He nodded.

  “What did you mean by it?”

  “Just what I said. I care deeply for you.”

  “Love?”

  He tried to swallow the lump in his throat to no avail. His lips quivering, he said, “Yeah.” When he turned to look at her again, her lips met his. Her hand slid across his shoulders, and he was lost in the passion of her embrace.

  Snapping back to reality, he heard voices and bustling past the woods above the shore. “Come, let’s go back to the inn. Others approach.”

  She nodded, and by use of his traveling spell, he returned them to their room at the inn, then cleaned the sand from their garments with the flick of his wrist. With Valyrie’s arms wrapped tightly around his back, he took his lips from hers only long enough to blow on the candle and extinguish the flame. He guided her to the bed, then sat once she had crawled to the other side. Lying down, he pulled her alongside, and she rested her head on his chest, locked in a loving embrace.

  With some hesitation, he said, “I didn’t want to mention it, but I must. This is too important to hold my tongue. You know, we won’t be able to do much of this once on the trail.”

  “Why not, Lae?”

  “The others… and the task at hand. We must remain focused on the goal, and until we accomplish what we’ve set out to do, we’ll have to treat each other like we treat Marac and Brice. If we don’t, we risk everyone.”

  She slid her cheek against his shoulder. “Why must we be so cold? We’ve had no problems thus far.”

  “I think it’s best.”

  Sitting up, she looked down into his eyes, her black locks mantling her face. “I don’t understand this. Why can’t we be close at the same time?”

  “It will put us at risk.” He put his hands behind his head. “If we can’t think clearly, we’ll end up making mistakes.”

  “I don’t know about you, Laedron Telpist, but I thought I was thinking clearly.” She lit the candle, and Laedron could see that she was flushed with anger. “You think this is just one big mistake?”

  “No, not at all.” He sat up when she folded her arms. “I only mean to say that we have to keep our minds on the task at hand.”

  “Forgive me if I’m smart enough to think about more than one thing at a time. After everything we’ve been through, the love we’ve shared, you say this now? You expect me to put my feelings-my love, my heart-on hold so that we don’t risk offending anyone?”

  “I-”

  “You’d better not say anything else.”

  He stood. “I wanted to say that I was sorry.”

  “I’m sorry, too.” She opened the door and gestured for him to leave. “Perhaps, when you think you can handle things, we can talk like adults. Until then, good night.”

  “Val, I-”

  “Good night.”

  Walking out into the hallway, Laedron tried to look at her once more, but she closed the door before he could. After standing for a while amidst his regret, he turned to the door across the hall. Oh, Marac’s going to get a good laugh over this one. And no more rooms for rent means I have no choice but to stay with him and Brice.

  He knocked, and shortly afterward, Brice answered. “Yes…? Oh, Lae.”

  “Mind if I stay here?”

  “Something wrong with your room?” Brice asked, stepping aside.

  “You could say that.” Laedron sat on the chair in the corner, then opened the bottom dresser drawer and propped his feet on it.

  Marac stared at him.

  Probably trying to think of some smart remark. Laedron asked, “You have nothing to say?”

  “What could I say? These things, in the course of love, happen.”

  Not quite what I expected, but I’ll take it. “She needs some time to… cool off.”

  “I hope she gets there soon. We have no time for games on the road,” Marac said, then crawled into the bed and rolled onto his side. “Goodnight.”

  After Marac and Brice had fallen asleep, Laedron sat awake in the chair staring at the ceiling and wondered if his instincts were correct, if he would better serve them in the end by keeping his distance from her. I can choose no other way at this juncture, for all other paths seem to lead inexorably to fault and defeat. Damned Fates, if only I could sleep, if only I could have a rest from these thoughts.

  3

  Tracking Farrah Harridan

  Laedron glanced at Valyrie as they walked back to the bookstore the next morning. She hates me. I just know she does, and I won’t be surprised if she takes the first ship back to Azura. He felt love-true, unstoppable adoration-for her, but for the sake of everyone’s safety, he couldn’t indulge those feelings. I care for her. That’s all that should matter now, but we can’t endure if we don’t maintain our resolve. Being open and
acting however we might like could weaken our coherency and put us all in grave danger. Later, when all of this is done, when we’re safe to do whatever we please and live the lives we choose for ourselves, things will be different. I only hope that it won’t be too late to rekindle what we have-what we had.

  After passing through the gate and entering the bookstore, Laedron locked eyes with an elderly woman seated near the fire.

  Shanden said, “Ah, you’re back.”

  “You’re the boy who’s found one of my books, are you?” the old woman asked, eying his every move. “Come to discuss Far’rah Harridan, have you?”

  Far’rah. Is the emphasis at the end important? “Yes, madam. Well, my friends and I-”

  “We should speak in private. Come along, young man.” With the aid of an oaken cane, the woman rose and proceeded to go into a room in the back of the store.

  Laedron turned to Shanden. “My friends can’t come with me?”

  “My mother-Callista, to you-demands privacy.”

  “Why? Anything that she says will be relayed to my companions anyway.”

  “You’re the sorcerer, aren’t you?” Shanden wiped the counter with an old, dusty rag, his frankness striking to Laedron.

  “Yes.” For a moment, he wondered if he had entered some sort of secret coven of mages, its existence hidden from the watchful eye of the Heraldan church. Only by hiding their natures could sorcerers survive in Lasoron. The church’s grip on these lands is too tight for it to be otherwise.

  “Then, she will speak only with you,” Shanden said, pointing over his shoulder toward the back room. “She doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  Laedron wanted to say, “And I don’t like to be apart from my comrades, especially in circumstances such as these,” but he didn’t. Reluctantly, he took the book from Valyrie-after she handed it over in a rather aggressive manner-and approached the door leading to the rear chambers of the structure. He took a deep breath, then entered through a red curtain.

  Two fireplaces in a shop this small? he mused, taking in his surroundings. The old woman had already claimed a plush chair at the fireside, and a blanket was draped over her lap. Beneath her straight silver locks, a large emerald adorned a golden pendant at her breast, and she wore the necklace over a long-sleeved shirt with a tight collar and a floral print.