Unbroken Chain: The Darker Road

“Chances are, I couldn’t have prevented any of those deaths,” Daruk said. He put a hand around Tatigan’s shoulder. The merchant shrugged it off. “You know me, green-eyed man. If you want to appeal to my sentiments, get me a battle worthy of a song. Give me warriors who will dazzle the gods with the fury of their souls. Do that, and I will reach into the darkness and show you what glory means.”

“You expect to find all that on a coster caravan run in the middle of the plains during winter?” Tatigan said dryly. “You’re a fool, Daruk.”

“I certainly haven’t found it here among these shadar-kai,” Daruk said. The way he said “these shadar-kai” made Ashok think the bard wasn’t deriding the entire race, only those associated with the caravan-or maybe with Ikemmu. He couldn’t be sure.

“Many of them are Tempus’s children,” Tatigan said. He’d calmed somewhat, probably because they were now discussing one of the merchant’s favorite topics. “They fight for the glory of the war god-that should appeal to your sensibilities.”

“Hardly.” This time Daruk was being derisive. “Tempus wastes them, so do Beshaba and the rest, as far as I’m concerned. They’ve not even begun to grasp their full potential. But that one”- he turned around and looked straight at Ashok-“has an inkling of what’s inside him. Eh, chainfighter? Do I speak the truth?”

Ashok stared back at the bard. There was no use pretending he hadn’t overheard the conversation. “When I’ve heard you sing,” Ashok said, “I’ll decide if it’s a song worth hearing.”

Tatigan chuckled. “Well said, as always, Ashok. I knew the two of you would make interesting companions.” He seemed in much better spirits. “When we reach the trade route, we’ll have an evening of song as celebration. Then you can judge for yourself whether this one is all wind and poetry.”

CHAPTER TEN

You’re different. Can you feel it?”

Sitting beside the lake, Ilvani watched small fish dart back and forth in the shallows, chasing food. The sun blazed down from overhead; she felt warm and drowsy, and a gentle breeze moved her hair. Beside her on a large, flat rock sat the Rashemi witch. They sat close together, not quite touching, and watched the sun-dazzled water.

“I didn’t say you could share this rock,” Ilvani said.

“I saw you sitting here all alone, and I wanted to be with you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ilvani said, but she wasn’t angry. “You still want me to help you.”

“Yes. You like sitting here, don’t you? Where it’s peaceful?”

“You don’t really understand us.” Ilvani smiled faintly. She found herself thinking, abstractly, this is a lethal moment for a shadar-kai. When the sun goes down, when we’re alone in the dark, this peaceful moment grows fangs. The shadows come out to snatch the soul away. But this little snow rabbit doesn’t know that. Ilvani supposed she could forgive her ignorance.

It was beautiful here. She watched the empty boats drift across the lake in a serene procession: one, two, three, and four of them in a line. Symbols carved into their wooden hulls glimmered with silver-blue light. They were the same symbols she’d carved into her arms. She should be afraid of them, but she wasn’t. They were too far away to hurt her. The sky was cloudless, dense blue. No storm would come today.

“Where are they all going?” Ilvani asked, pointing to the boats. “If they’re empty, how do they know when they’ve arrived?”

“None of them are empty,” the snow rabbit said. “Look closer.”

Ilvani stared at the lead boat. The sun blurred her vision, and in the sudden, wavering brightness, she glimpsed the outline of a wolf. Peaked ears and a tapered snout-the telthor was at least six feet long, with thick shoulders and a luxurious tail that swished back and forth.

“He won’t bite you,” the snow rabbit said. “He has other enemies to worry about.”

“Why did you say I was different?” Ilvani asked.

The witch smiled. “It’s not something that’s easily explained. You either feel it or you don’t.”

Ilvani considered this. What had changed about her since she’d begun the caravan journey? “The storm passed,” she said.

The witch’s expression turned sad. “No. It’s still here, waiting. But it’s content to wait, for now, so we’re safe.”

Ilvani stood up. She moved restlessly, wanting to comprehend this new awareness of herself that the witch seemed to possess. Her hand touched the green bag tied at her waist. She gripped the drawstrings tightly.

The Rashemi woman saw the movement and smiled in approval. “You feel it, don’t you? Don’t be afraid.”

Ilvani wasn’t afraid. She fingered the drawstrings and considered the implications of what she felt. She’d been days on the road and never once had she opened the bag to draw out her memories. Nor had she added new ones to the boxes. Panic gripped her as she considered the potential loss, but no, there they were. She found she could look back and remember the events of the past days with near-perfect clarity. When was the last time she’d gone away to that sanctuary in her mind? When was the last gap in her memories?

“It won’t last,” Ilvani said, more to herself than to the snow rabbit. “The shadows will start to talk again, and it will all get jumbled together.” She looked out across the lake. “The wolf will turn on me.”

“Not if you tame the wolf,” the witch said. “You can silence the voices. I have to believe it’s possible. Not everyone fails …” Her voice faltered.

Ilvani held herself, her arms pressed to her stomach against a sudden wave of sickness. This is when the storm comes, she thought. It’s going to swallow us again.

But nothing happened. The day remained peaceful and sunny. Water insects skipped across the surface of the lake. The fish chased after them eagerly.

“Do you remember your childhood?” the snow rabbit asked her. Her voice was steady again, though she seemed sadder than before.

“Sometimes,” Ilvani said. She hadn’t kept boxes, back then. The memories were vague and half-formed, except the ones that blazed brightly, like images of Natan.

“The spirits used to come to me when I was a child. I’d see whole worlds that no one else could see,” the Rashemi witch said. “The snow rabbit took me to the Feywild. I slept with my head against his fur, beneath trees with leaves that looked like bluebells. I felt safe. Did you ever feel safe like that, Ilvani?”

Ilvani tried to remember if she’d ever felt truly safe. Only in that place where no memories were made. But if she couldn’t remember what safe was, how could she claim the emotion?

“Natan,” she said finally. “I felt … better … with Natan, my brother. But he’s gone now.”

The witch sighed. “I wish it weren’t so. It’s going to make things that much more difficult for you. Isn’t there anyone else?”

“No.”

The snow rabbit gave Ilvani a strange look, then, as if she knew she was lying.

“Oh, look.” The witch pointed to the lake. It had frozen over. “Winter’s here.”

Ilvani opened her eyes and saw the clouds moving above her head in a heavy gray mass. The wagon dipped and jostled beneath her, yet she’d still managed to fall asleep in the middle of the afternoon. She hadn’t fallen asleep so carelessly since she’d been in Darnae’s shop.

The nightmares stayed away. The snow rabbit had become a tame creature.

Moisture falling on her face had wakened her. She looked around, expecting the falling rain to blind her.

Snow covered her black cloak.

She raised both hands to catch the white flakes and watched them melt away into tiny puddles in her palms. The wagon rolled to a stop to give the horses a brief rest. They’d been traveling steadily for several days now, with no weather delays or brigand attacks.