Page 15 of Sword & Shadow
Water Mages. Deckard remembered that the Order of the Night had absorbed the Order of the Sea when the Shepherd King’s rebellion pushed the Mages of Auld back across the Allmar Mountains into what was now known as Wauld.
“This way,” Ilain yelled, taking an abrupt right up the beach.
They were fast but not quite fast enough. The wave slammed into the sand, hitting Ethenn and Rafferty in the back. They were thrown forward, losing their footing. Evylin instantly adjusted her course, with Deckard and Thom at her side. By some magic he didn’t comprehend, she turned the Day sword back into a Relic, haphazardly throwing its chain around her neck. Then she tugged Rafferty off the ground, wet sand clinging to his clothes and face and streaking his hair an ashy black.
Deckard and Thom reached Ethenn at the same time, helping the hunter to stand. But they’d been too slow while the Calders continued up the beach. Auden’s shroud was too weak to cover the distance between them. The haze around their forms beganto fade, sharpening their figures, and several Mages cried out excitedly.
The Ephrians bolted after their Mage comrades as their attackers pursued with renewed vigor. Purple shadows sent black sand spraying as they zigzagged up the coast. A thick line of trees awaited them: massive evergreens, elms, and alders in the deepest shades of emerald. When they reached it, the dark sand was marbled with the teeming underbrush. Lush ferns and moss filled the forest, making their sprint difficult. A thick mist obscured the depths of the trees.
They maintained their course with no assurances that they were truly running from and not toward more Mages. Ilain and Auden’s fire-bright hair flared against the forest’s dark green, the Ephrians’ only beacon of direction. Wherever they were running toward, Deckard prayed it was to safety.
The troop ran until Ilain practically collapsed onto the forest floor. The rich greens and overcast sky lent themselves to the Wauldeners’ visages. It gave their pale skin and sharp features an ethereal appearance even as they slumped against the trees, worn out from the Keep and the sprint for their lives.
With one hand on her rib cage, Ilain stared up at the team. “Can we walk now?” she begged, panting around each word.
With his pulse pounding and lungs gasping, Deckard surveyed the forest behind him. “I don’t hear any sign of pursuit,” he offered.
The whole troop sagged in relief. Evylin alone seemed to have some semblance of control over her breathing as they relaxed. Rafferty dropped to the mossy ground as Ethenn and Thom finally put away their weapons.
“We can’t rest long,” Deckard warned, sheathing his sword. “Only enough to catch our breaths.”
Auden agreed. “It should be safe for us to turn south now.”
Hands on his knees, Thom gaped incredulously at the Mage. “You mean we’ve been running in the wrong direction?”
“We’ve been running northeast toward Taulence,” Auden confirmed. “If they believe we’re headed for the nearest town, they’ll search there first. Now that we’ve lost them, we can head for Colmar with less fear of interference.”
“It’ll take three days to get to Colmar, right?” Ethenn asked, his hunter’s training aiding his fast recovery.
“So long as we keep going,” Auden confirmed. He reached up then, removing the golden chain of the Night Relic. The amethyst stone beamed in the dim light as he held it out to Rafferty.
“You sure you don’t need to keep us shrouded longer?” the weasel asked, still on the forest floor.
Auden shook his head. “I had to release the shroud nearly as soon as we entered the trees,” he explained. “I don’t have the energy to maintain one. Not even with the Relic’s help.”
As Rafferty tucked the now-dull necklace into his coat, Ilain readily handed over the Fire Relic. Deckard surveyed the exchange warily. The return of the Relics was a show of good faith on the Calders’ part. And while Deckard wanted to trust them, he still held reservations regarding their true agenda.
While Deckard had agreed to work with them and their Alliance to overthrow Wauld and Ephria, he couldn’t say he was entirely convinced of their cause. He had yet to fully understand what the Alliance hoped to achieve by recreating Allund. He could not offer them his true allegiance until he knew their true intentions. However, with Rouland Blount II, Crown Prince of Wauld, also hunting for the Relics, Deckard would place his faith in the Calders over the Waulden heir.
They resumed their journey, veering south under Auden and Ethenn’s guidance. The Mage and the hunter took the lead, forging the path. The rest of the team ambled behind, exhausted.
They’d left Norhels in the morning and arrived in Wauld’s Verlund Reach hours earlier. The change in time zones played games with Deckard’s head. They’d spent at least an hour within the Day and Night Keeps only to gain more daylight. His muscles ached, his stomach was empty, and his energy was depleted.
After hours of traversing the forest, the heavy mist clung to the trees. Rafferty, energy slowly returning, chatted at the back, entertaining Evylin, Ilain, and Thom. Fighting his tiredness and the mindless task of slogging through the untamed terrain, Deckard allowed his thoughts to wander.
Since they’d left Hewitt’s grave, Deckard took every silent moment to worry about Evylin. Her struggle was understandable, her depression pervading, and her self-isolation reflexive. Every day, he did what he could to be helpful to her.
Almost a month ago, Hewitt had told Deckard the story of how Ryen died—Hewitt’s son and Evylin’s best friend. The boy’s death had broken both uncle and niece, and only together had they found any semblance of solace. However, neither of them had ever truly healed.“We’ve both isolated ourselves in our grief, with only each other for company,”Hewitt had said.“I refuse to care, and she refuses to trust.”
Now that Evylin had lost the one man shedidtrust, Deckard knew she was floundering, drifting in the void of loss. When they buried Hewitt, Evylin had broken down in her grief. She’d admitted to Deckard that she wasn’t happy—that she didn’t want what she’d thought she wanted: adventure. She’d told him that she didn’t know what to do. And since then, Deckard had done all he could to give her a purpose. Something to hold onto while she recovered from her pain.
He knew she didn’t trust him, not yet. But he promised himself he would be there for her as Hewitt had been when they’d lost Ryen. Even if it took her years to recover and trustanyone again, he would stay by her side. He wouldn’t let her isolate herself, not from him.
The sudden, incomprehensible sound of laughter struck Deckard in the back. It wasn’t just anyone’s laughter—it was Evylin’s. Looking over his shoulder in shock, he saw the group sniggering at something Rafferty had said.
Evylin walked between the weasel and Thom, a hand to her mouth. Her dimples lightened her entire expression. It baffled Deckard. He hadn’t heard her laugh like that since Hewitt’s death. And yet, she seemed practically joyous, like her old self.
Was it possible that she was getting better? Had the distraction of the Keeps been enough to jolt her back to herself? Had she only needed the thrill of a fight to restore what had faded?
