The Swordmage Trilogy: Volume 02 - The Darkest Hour (5 page)

"What more is there?" The High Priest was curious. He already had his leg back and with it, the promise of being whole and a viable threat again.

"Is to be charged and readied for use, High Priest." The gnome withdrew a small vial from inside his coat. The tiny crystals within pulsed with a greenish-brown glow, the color of spring moss. He could feel the power thrumming through the air between them. He knew what this was. He had seen it often enough in his role as
a rune holder. This was runedust.

The gnome nodded, seeing the recognition on Zarfensis's face. "Yes, is runedust. Is of the Eyr, the Rune of Earth. You have your own, yes?"

Zarfensis nodded. He inclined to admit to the gnome that obtaining his own runedust from the Dyr was impeded by the pack council at the moment. He wasn't about to offer any more information to the gnome than was necessary.

The gnome nodded again. "Good. To recharge is to be using the runedust. This is sample," he waved the vial at Zarfensis. "Is included in payment. First taste is free."

Greneks's cackle sent shivers up Zarfensis's spine. He had little time to be unnerved. Twisting a handle on the device, the gnome opened a small chute on the side of the artificial leg and dumped the dust into it in a fluid motion. A tiny crystal window showed the dust inside, its mossy glow pulsing slowly like a heartbeat.

An instant later, Zarfensis felt the leg respond to the magical power of the dust. Where it had been a mechanical extension of his leg before, now it was alive. He could feel it humming with power. He rose the leg. Where it had been clumsy and mechanical before, it was now smooth and fluid. He could feel the claws at the end of the foot and flexed them. They responded to his will
, grasping just as his real claws would.

The High Priest wound
himself down into a crouch and leapt toward the entrance to the workshop. His jump carried him out into the corridor, where he landed lightly on his feet. This wasn't just a replacement for his lost limb. This was an improvement. He idly wondered if the gnome could make a second replacement and then quickly turned his thoughts away from that idea. Replacing a lost limb was one thing, removing a perfectly healthy one just to get a mecha-magical replacement was another.

He raced along the path that circled the workshops, relishing in the freedom of movement, the smoothness of the gait, and then complete and utter lack of
dependence on crutch or cane to move again. It was liberating. It was wonderful. He returned to the workshop and bowed deeply to the gnome, the servos in the leg whining quietly as he did so.

"You have my immeasurable thanks, Greneks."

The gnome smiled, his fingers again folding under his chin. "Your thanks are noted, High Priest. Now is for payment."

"Of course, anything you wish. I will see it done."

Whatever the gnome wanted, Zarfensis would see that it was procured. Not only did he have his leg back, he had his life back. Things in the Warrens were going to change, and they were going to change very soon.

             
The driving rain had soaked Tiadaria to the skin. Her hair was a mess, plastered across her forehead and clinging to her shoulders and neck. Her traveling cloak was waterlogged and let through so much of the rain that she had opted to take the hood down so that she might be able to see where they were going. Nightwind plodded on, gingerly finding his footing in the mud-filled track they were following. His head was down, his nose pointed at the earth in front of them. Tiadaria knew how he felt.

             
She leaned close to his neck and shouted encouragement over the rain. Other than a flick of his ears, there was no indication that the horse heard her, or cared. The last week of their journey to Ethergate had been difficult for both of them. Leaving the Imperium had been something of a shock. On the road to the border, guards paid by the coffers of the Grand Army of the Imperium had been frequent and welcome diversions from the often boring journey. Once they crossed the border, however, those diversions disappeared. What also disappeared was the well-maintained road that made travel within the Imperium relatively quick and easy.

             
The guard at the border station, a wizened old man who had probably lived the last forty years of his life standing by that post, had assured her that this wide dirt track, well rutted by wagon and cart wheels, would lead her to Ethergate. That had been a week ago. Two days later, the torrential rain had started and hadn’t let up since.

             
Tiadaria shivered. She and Nightwind had stayed in whatever caves they could find. At least her tinderbox was relatively waterproof. The fires they huddled by were often smoky, tentative things, fed by whatever dry fuel she could scrounge from the mouth of the cave or under fallen trees. She had been discouraged from venturing too far into the caves when, on one of her fuel-finding expeditions, she had almost slipped down a nearly vertical face. She tossed a pebble over the edge, listening for a rattle or splash, and heard nothing. She had stayed very near the mouth of the cave that night. Better off a little wet and cold.

             
That was two days ago, but it might as well have been two lifetimes. The relentless pounding of the rain was starting to drive her to the edge of madness. Iron gray clouds crested the tops of the tallest trees and everything was gray. The sky, the clouds, and her mood, all gray. Nightwind tossed his head, spraying her with water from his sodden mane.

             
“I said I was sorry,” she said glumly. Nightwind didn’t respond.

             
Lightning flashed, so nearby that Tiadaria’s vision turned to purple sparkles. The crash that followed seemed to come from directly overhead. Nightwind, normally a stolid warhorse, reared with a frightened whinny. Tia was bucked from his back, landing on hers in the mud. The breath left her in a rush, her bottom smarting from the sudden dismount. She struggled to her feet, realizing when she finally managed it that Nightwind was nowhere to be seen.

             
“Great Gatzbin’s gonads,” she swore, still trying to catch her breath. The bolting horse had run off with nearly everything she brought with her on this ill-fated trip. She had her belt knife and her purse. The knife could come in handy. The purse was less than useless in the middle of nowhere. Fantastic. She dropped her hand to the butt of the knife and gave it a tug, ensuring the strap still held it fast.

             
“You can take that out and toss it over here, slave,” a gruff voice cut through the sound of the rain. Tiadaria whirled toward the voice and came face to face with a dwarven hand cannon. The muzzle of the weapon was inches from her face and the bore seemed enormous at that distance. She slipped into sphere-sight and cast out beyond the cloaked man. There was a wagon behind him, drawn by two huge draft horses. Two men stood on the wagon deck, similarly armed. She’d have taken her chances against one, three on one was more than she’d bargained for.

             
Withdrawing from the Quintessential Sphere, she dropped her hand to the butt of her knife and tugged the strap free. She drew it slowly out, between her thumb and forefinger, and tossed it on the ground at the stranger’s feet.

             
“Is this how you welcome all your visitors?”

             
The hooded man knelt to retrieve the dagger, the barrel of his pistol never wavering. “When the ‘visitor’ is wearing a slave collar and carrying a pig-sticker? Yeah, that’s how we welcome all our escaped slaves.”

             
“I’m not an escaped slave,” Tiadaria sighed. This conversation had become more and more common the farther from Dragonfell she rode. She was beginning to wonder if she shouldn’t just have Faxon remove it and be done with it. Still, it was a part of her, one of the few parts of the Captain she had left. “I have my papers they’re in my…”

             
“In your what?”

             
“In my saddlebag,” Tia threw her hands up at the fruitlessness of the conversation. “Which is strapped to my horse, which is who knows where since he bolted after that last lightning strike.” She shook her head, brushing the wet hair out of her eyes. “I don’t suppose you’re likely to wait for him to come back?”

             
“Not likely, Miss--”

             
“Tiadaria,” she supplied helpfully. “So what do we do now?”

             
The hooded stranger eased the hammer down on the cannon and dropped it into a holster hanging at his hip.

             
“You wouldn’t be
the
Tiadaria, would you? The Tiadaria who fought at Dragonfell? The Tiadaria who gave the eulogy at the Captain’s interment?”

             
Tiadaria sighed again. The most painful moment of her life had turned out to be a boon on more than one occasion. It seemed that people all throughout the Imperium had heard the story. In many cases, they told it as they themselves had been there. An interesting feat for so many people when it had been such a small group that was gathered around his tomb that day. Still, if it made them feel a part of it in the retelling, who did it really hurt?

             
“Yes,
that
Tiadaria.”

             
The hooded man sniffed. “Never figured the Captain to put a girl on the battlefield.” He stabbed a thick finger at her. “I think you got damn lucky. Luck is no substitute for experience and planning, girl, remember that.”

             
Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked back to the wagon, climbing into the driver’s position. Following his lead, the other men holstered their weapons. Tiadaria gaped at them. The tale of their heroic battle against the Xarundi usually got her at least the offer of a drink and sometimes an invitation to a meal. The condition of the road wasn’t the only difference out here.

             
With a snap of the reigns, the wagon started forward. As it passed, the stranger tossed her belt knife into the mud at her feet. She knelt to retrieve the Captain’s blade, shaking the worst of the mud from the blade.

             
“Wait!” Tiadaria called. “Can you at least tell me how to get to Ethergate?”

             
“Follow the road, girl.” The man called, without turning around. “Another half a day will get you there. Sooner if you find your horse.”

             
It may have just been the rain, but Tiadaria was almost certain she heard a rough laugh as the cart moved onward. Tia stood in the middle of the muddy road, watching the wagon until it had disappeared from view. She wasn’t sure how much worse this day could get. She wanted to sit down and cry. Instead, she put one foot in front of the other, following the deep ruts made by the wagon.

             
Minutes blended into hours as she trudged through the mud. At some point, she had lost the feeling in her toes. If her boots weren’t ruined, she would be absolutely amazed. Night was coming on quickly. She would have to find somewhere to while away the hours until dawn. It would be a miserable evening without her tinderbox.

             
A flash of lighting lit the sky and Tia saw the shadow of a curtain wall against the fading sky. That had to be Ethergate, she thought. Even if it wasn’t, it was likely somewhere she could get a room for the night. At this point, she’d even take a stable stall if it meant getting out of the rain. She thanked every minor deity she knew that her purse was still safely tucked into her belt. A sudden apprehension flashed through her and she dropped her hand to her belt, searching frantically for the drawstring pouch until she found it, its narrow neck wrapped around and knotted. She sighed in relief and set off toward the city with a lighter heart.

             
Night had fallen by the time she reached Ethergate. Large braziers on the top of the wall burned with purple flames. Tia didn’t care what color the flames were as long as she could get near enough to them to get warm and possibly dry some of the wrinkles from her fingertips.

             
She reached the portcullis and was relieved to find it open still. She stepped into the passage, relishing in the fact that for the first time in nearly a full day, she wasn’t being rained on. She leaned against the wall. Her feet ached so badly and she still had to find somewhere to sleep for the night.

             
“You look like you’ve seen better days,” a voice came from ahead. A lantern flared in the dark and an armored guard approached her. “Worse rains we’ve had around here in, oh, probably ten years or so.”

             
“Just my luck to be caught out in them, then,” Tiadaria tried to keep the bitterness from her voice with little success. The guard smiled.

             
“There’s an inn just beyond the wall, take the road into the city, turn left, it's the building on the right.”

             
“Thank you!” Tia didn’t need to fake the gratitude she felt toward the man. All she wanted was a warm fire and a bed. “My horse bolted on the road during the storm, I don’t suppose he’s made his way here?”