Forbidden Light (The Two Hunters Book 2) Page 5

  I laughed, and quickly stifled it before it turned into a sob. I continued to gaze out the window. No matter how hard I looked, my gaze couldn't pierce the fog.

  “I know what will cheer you up,” said Taloos. “Let's get you out. Do you want to go back to the library? Eh, you're probably sick of it. Maybe a stroll about the city, or a walk in the woods.”

  Another smile tugged at the corners of my lips. “Taloos, it's raining.”

  Taloos smacked his forehead. “I'm stupid. I'd already forgotten.”

  His hand found mine, and he tugged me toward the door. “On a rainy day like this, nothing will warm your soul like a nice mug of cider. The cook brewed some this morning.”

  When we entered the hall, Taloos released me to dash back to his room. He reemerged with a bundle of crumpled tissue paper. “Open it,” he said with a wide smile. “I just bought them yesterday with the money that fat Sprat lady paid me for clearing her house of rats. Cost me every last copper, but I think you'll like them.”

  Holding the bundle, I stared down at it. What was it? Silvan was the only person to have given me gifts, as far back as my memory went. “Thank you,” I said. Uncertainty trembled through me.

  Taloos made a tearing motion with his hands. “You’re supposed to open it.”

  With shaking hands, I tore off the paper, my breath catching when I saw what I held.

  Boots. Little brown boots made of doeskin. They would be perfect for the upcoming weather. I hadn’t told either Silvan or Taloos about it, but I’d worried about not having shoes when the first frost of the season hit the city.

  “Try them on.” Taloos smiled wide, his brown eyes shining. “The shopkeeper insisted they would fit, but we can take them back if they don’t.”

  They did fit, surprisingly. The doeskin hugged my ankles and feet like they’d been made specifically for me. I laughed. “Was the shoemaker an elf? This is nothing short of wizardry.”

  Taloos blinked. “Maybe he was. Weird. His ears were covered by a shock of blond hair, so I couldn’t tell.”

  I lunged at Taloos, and closed the distance between us in a fierce hug. “Thank you, Taloos. You’re a great friend.”

  Taloos’s body stiffened, but his arms wrapped around me hesitantly. “Does this better my chances with you?” he joked, but I saw the genuine curiosity in his eyes when I pulled away.

  “I’m not in the market for that sort of thing right now,” I said.

  “Why doesn’t Silvan scoop you up and carry you off?” Taloos said, his face scrunching with puzzlement. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s crazy about you.”

  “Is he?” I said, happiness budding inside me.

  “It won’t do him any good if he doesn’t act on it.” Taloos strode down the hall and I followed him downstairs.

  “Silvan was raised in a warrior society that didn’t believe in marriage.”

  “Oh,” Taloos said. “Like the Elite?”

  I stumbled, and would have fallen down the stairs if I hadn’t gripped the railing. “How do you know about them?” I gasped.

  Taloos glanced over his shoulder at me, his expression incredulous. “Everyone knows about the Elite,” he said. “They’re legendary. And they do marry, from what I’ve heard. But only some of them. Not sure what’s up with that.” He was still watching me, his lips curving up in a smirk. “I am so getting married someday.”

  “Well, where Silvan’s from, they didn’t get married. They were forbidden to be in a relationship.”

  We sat in the kitchen at the table, across from each other. I wrapped my hands around a large mug, relishing the warmth that seeped into my skin. It felt wonderful, and the scent was delicious: apple and cinnamon, with a hint of bitterweed. Taking a sip, I burned my tongue.

  Taloos followed my example and jerked his head back, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto his fingers. “Spirits take it,” he cursed. “That’s hot.” He blew on the drink, the steam swirling in his face. “Well, I pity Silvan, then. But he's an idiot, really.”

  “He is not,” I said. “He's just conflicted.”

  “You're a girl, and a pretty one at that. Seems like there shouldn't be much to decide.”

  The Elite wasn’t a wiped-out civilization. Silvan would be overjoyed to learn he wasn't alone. I should I tell him. I gripped the mug so hard it was a wonder it didn't break. I didn't want to tell him. I didn't want Silvan to go back to the Elite.

  “How is your reading coming along?” I asked, changing the subject. I didn't feel like talking about romantic matters with Taloos, of all people, and I didn't want to talk about the Elite, either. I reached for a cookie that the cook had put between us. I took a bite, and smiled as warmed sugar and chocolate melted in my mouth.

  “Coming along great.” Taloos stacked three cookies and bit into them. “Sonia says I’m learning quickly.” He sprayed some crumbs and clamped his mouth shut, his face red. “Sorry.”

  “That’s wonderful. Is Sonia patient?”

  Taloos swallowed and grinned. “More patient than you.”

  I sniffed, not dignifying his response with any acknowledgment.

  Thunder rumbled, and Taloos and I both looked up. Silvan was out in this storm. Maybe he'd come back until the weather improved. Except he wouldn't. That wasn't Silvan's style. Plus, the barracks weren't more than half an hour walk away. He was probably nearly there.

  A faint creak sounded as a door opened and closed. Someone had entered the common room.

  “Hey, I’m beginning to think along the same lines of money and work that Silvan obviously has,” Taloos said, staring down at his drink. “I helped Barrett here at the inn, with his rat problem, and that Sprat lady, and Sonia at the library, but I need to start making a livable wage. So, I plan to officially advertise my services as a rat tamer.” He chuckled. “I’m sure there are plenty of people who would love to have a clean, rat-free home, again.”

  We paused as we heard voices in the common room, followed by footsteps. Barrett came through the door, clutching a white envelope. He handed it to Taloos. “From Lord Dubauer.”

  Taloos took the envelope, exchanging a confused look with me. What would the city leader want with Taloos?

  Taloos broke the seal and glanced at the contents, embarrassment creeping across his face. “I can’t read his writing.”

  “I can help you with that.” Barrett snatched the letter out of his hand before I could offer to read it. He cleared his throat. “‘To the esteemed beast tamer, Taloos Colsworth. The Lord Dubauer, leader and esteemed guardian of the city of Stagfort, requests your immediate presence.’”

  Taloos made a choking noise, his eyes wide. “He wants to see me?”

  Barrett ignored him, his gaze glued to the letter. “‘Lord Dubauer has need of your abilities, and believes he can make it worth your while. Please come with all haste.’” Barrett passed the letter back, a broad smile on his face. “You’re moving up in the world, young man.”

  Taloos returned the smile. His gaze shifted to mine. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?” he asked. “I don’t have any experience with nobles. Silvan won’t give me any details, but he dropped a hint that you might have some knowledge in that area.”

  I didn’t. Not really. Spending two weeks in high society before everyone died didn’t really count, in my book. But compassion stirred in me at the anxiety I read in Taloos’s face. “Of course, I’ll come. I’m curious to see what he needs from you.”

  “It’ll be the rats.” The innkeeper helped himself to a cookie. “Everyone else wants a shot at getting the rats out of their house. I suspect Dubauer’s manor is full of them, same as everybody else.”

  We left shortly after our early breakfast. I went upstairs to comb my hair, ignoring Taloos’s objections that I was taking too long. I had never met Lord Dubauer, and I wanted to make a good impression.

  “Hurry up,” Taloos complained, his voice muffled through the closed door. “You're taking forever.”

  Forever. Wo
uldn't that be something? I finished braiding my hair, and inspected myself in the small mirror that hung on the wall. I had washed my dress a couple of days before. There were a few tears along the hem, but considering all it had gone through, didn't look too bad.

  I was pretty. I wiggled my toes, grinning at the feel of doeskin. If only Silvan could see me now.

  I skipped to the door and opened it, jumping back when Taloos tumbled to the floor, all arms and legs.

  “You could have warned me,” he grumbled as he stood.

  I laughed. “You're the one who was hanging on the knob.”

  “Well, anyway, let's go,” Taloos said. “We don't want to keep the city ruler waiting.”

  We left the inn. The rain had lessened to depressing drizzle, the city still buried in mist. The usual crowd was thinner today, only the most determined souls braving the miserable weather.

  Taloos walked along without a break in his stride, and it was all I could do to keep up with him.

  Before long I was shivering. The fog seemed to cling to me like cold, wet fingers. Taloos glanced at me and shrugged off his jacket, passing it to me.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled, grateful for the threadbare coat. My gaze roved about the gloom. “Silvan told me to stay out of trouble. Do you think meeting the city leader counts as trouble?”

  Taloos snorted. “Silvan's not your father.”

  I winced. My father was dead.

  “It's not up to him whether or not you do anything. You carve your own fate.”

  “Silvan just wants what's best for me.”

  Taloos rolled his eyes. “Silvan can eat a lemon.”

  I arched an eyebrow. “Now if I recall, you were of the same mind as Silvan back at the village. Neither of you wanted me to play sacrificial decoy.”

  “That was different.” Taloos shook a finger at me. “You went and nearly got yourself killed.”

  I didn't say anything after that, content to walk in silence, listening to the damp drizzle. I wasn’t sure how much time passed. I couldn't see the sun; the world wrapped up in a damp haze.

  “There it is,” Taloos said. He shivered, and guilt flickered through me when I remembered I was wearing his coat. “Lord Dubauer’s manor.”

  It was a large structure of stone with tiled roof. I peered at it worriedly as we approached.

  What did he want with Taloos? Was it simply a matter of rats?

  My trepidation grew as we drew closer, my shoulders instinctively tensing, my stomach twisting. Something was wrong. I could sense it. But if I didn’t figure out what was going on with this city, I wouldn’t be able to help it, and neither would Silvan.

  9

  Silvan

  It was raining heavily when I left the Gray Goose, the sign on the front porch creaking in the wind. A miserable morning.

  I walked quickly, moving silently through the roiling fog, made darker from the rain. Dim shapes and shadows moved in the mist, merchants and shopkeepers starting their days.

  My face was scrunched against the freezing rain, but I wasn’t particularly cold. Heat simmered in my stomach, slowly spreading to the rest of me. One of the perks of my shifting ability.

  I wasn’t sure what my new life at the barracks would be like, but I doubted it would be much like the brotherhood I had left behind. Most bonds weren’t as strong and selfless as the Elite.

  I hadn’t been as selfless as the Elite.

  Clenching my jaw, I shook my head against the dark thoughts that tried to enter my mind. I’d made my choice. No turning back, even if I’d wanted to.

  When I approached the barracks, it was still dark, save for a light in one of the windows. My steps slowed. Maybe I was too early.

  I didn’t relish the idea of standing around though, so, early or not, I stepped up and pounded on the gate.

  “Who goes there?” called a voice.

  “Silvan,” I called. “Ehric hired me as a guard yesterday.”

  The bolt was almost immediately pulled back. It opened with a tired groan. A lantern bobbed in the rain as a man peered out at me.

  “The captain told us about you,” he said. “Said you can just about fly.”

  I laughed, unnerved by how close to the mark that comment was. “Just about.”

  “Well, come on, it’ll be time for breakfast soon. Everyone else will be up and about before too long.”

  I followed him into the barracks, walking past the office where I’d signed papers the day before, and into a large room, packed with long tables and benches.

  “This is the dining hall, as you probably already figured out,” the man said. “My name’s Tym, by the way.” He motioned to the back of the room. “Grab a bowl of grub, and eat. Keeping your strength up will be top priority, now.”

  I did as he said. A surly looking man stood behind a large cauldron of steaming porridge. He scooped some sloppily into a bowl and passed it to me.

  “Thanks,” I said, and got a blank look in return. I mentally shrugged and moved to sit a few feet away. I wanted to get a good look at everyone who came in.

  The loud tolling of a bell sounded. I hadn’t spent a night here, and I already knew what it meant: time to get up.

  Before long the dining hall filled with tired, grumpy men. They lined up for food and then found their places. One of them saw me, and was quick to come over.

  “Hey, I remember you,” he said. “You soundly thumped Ehric yesterday. That was crazy.”

  “That was me,” I said. “Your name is Bleke, right?”

  “Yeah, that’s right,” the man said. Pushing dark hair out of his eyes, he dug into his porridge. “Ehric plans to have you show the rest of us what you can do. Said something about us being woefully lacking in our fighting skills.”

  I took another bite to hide my grin.

  “Ah, you’re a cocky one.” Bleke grinned. “We’ll see if you still are by the end of the day.”

  The discussion ended after that, both of us hurrying to finish our food.

  “Breakfast is over!” a familiar voice roared from the front of the room. I looked up to see Ehric. “Those who have patrol or watch, switch out with your comrades. The rest of you, to the training halls.”

  The hall quickly emptied, the noise lessening a bit. I hadn’t been assigned patrol or watch, so I wandered up to the front where Ehric stood. His face crinkled in a smile when he saw me. “Ah, excellent. Glad you made it.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “I’d like to see some more demonstrations today, only not with me this time.” He laughed. “Bleke’s been talking tough, and so has Rone, so I’ll have you thump those two soundly today, and we’ll go from there.”

  The training hall was a room almost as large as the dining area, but it was devoid of tables and chairs. I nodded in approval when I saw the vast selection of practice weapons.

  “See something you like?” Bleke asked.

  “Yes.” I pointed.

  “Ah, the swords. I prefer spears myself.”

  “All right, Silvan, Bleke. Select a weapon and come over here.” Ehric was standing in the middle of the room.

  Bleke picked a weapon, a wicked looking spear taller than himself, and jogged over to stand by the captain of the guard.

  I considered skipping weapons entirely, but decided if I was already going to embarrass Bleke, I didn’t want to humiliate him completely. I chose a wooden sword, and strode over.

  “All right,” Ehric watched us both. “Two rules. Don’t kill each other, and if someone says yield, then yield.”

  “Yes, sir,” we said. Bleke grinned.

  We both stood a few feet apart from each other. I eyed his weapon. The tip was blunt, so that it wouldn’t do any serious damage. With spear versus sword, he technically had the advantage.

  I bit my lower lip to hide a smirk. There was no advantage.

  “Go!” Ehric roared.

  Bleke moved quickly. Bringing his spear to chest level he jabbed.

  I darted to the side, and, gripping just below the bla
de, I yanked it toward me. Bleke stumbled, swearing. He found his feet, and his muscles bunched, ready to pull his weapon back.

  In the same moment, I jumped onto the wooden shaft, the tip scraping against the wooden floor. I ran up it, closing the short distance with a knee kick to Bleke’s face.

  He dropped his weapon under my weight, and I thumped him on the side of the head with the hilt of my sword.

  He was down.

  I grinned as the cheers rose to a roar. I lifted my sword, only to remember Bleke hadn’t said ‘yield’ when he grabbed my ankle. I crashed down on top of him, trying to stifle an offensive curse of my own.

  Bleke punched me in the face, and I tasted blood. My mind reeled from the shock that he was still fighting. I’d expected him to be an easier defeat than Ehric.

  I did a sea-lizard roll and jumped to my feet, letting my sword clatter to the ground. Wiping my face, I saw my nose was bleeding. Dragon rage boiled in my stomach, and it was an effort to rein it in. I wouldn’t shift over a barracks brawl, even if it meant losing.

  But I wasn’t going to lose.

  The man had scrambled to his feet, his fists held at the ready. He was laughing, ignoring the purple bruise spreading around his right eye. “Had a little more fight in me than you expected, didn’t I?”

  I struck. Using all my speed, I darted forward, punching him in the face and the gut before he could react, then finished it by gripping his arm and wrenching it up behind him, bracing myself for balance. “Yield,” I growled.

  Bleke’s body stiffened, and he yelped. “I yield.”

  “Good work,” Ehric called. “Silvan, how are you doing?”

  “Fine.” I held a hand out to Bleke. “No hard feelings?”

  He shook it and gave a lopsided grin. “Not at all. Well played, Silvan. I underestimated you.”

  I blinked. Maybe some of these soldiers had more fight in them than I’d thought. They played dirty, but if it achieved the same goal, what did it matter? It brought to mind something an Elite warrior had written long ago. “There is no honor in the fight, in the battle, in the war.” I remember debating the quote with Daiki. He was adamant that honor could be upheld in any situation. I wasn’t so sure. Fighting was fighting, and killing was killing.