Darkfire: A Book of Underrealm by Garrett Robinson Page B

Calentin craft is prized above many.”
    “I thank you, but the life of a mercenary holds little appeal to me.”
    “Your pardon. I had forgotten your vow. I shall banish the matter from my mind.”
    They mounted once Gem had finished his meal — which, Loren swore, was bigger than anyone else’s, though she did not know how that could be when Jordel was rationing them so carefully.  
    Upon the mountain pass, Loren’s fine mood dampened. The alcove had offered a sense of safety. Now, upon the road, it was easier to recall the satyr attack, the looks on their savage faces as they charged with their spears, and the terrible bleating that poured from their throats. Loren found herself looking up the mountainside, always fearing to see the goat-men perched above, watching, waiting for their chance to strike.
    But the day passed quickly and quietly. Just after midday the sun finally broke through the clouds and they basked in its warmth.  
    Despite the fine day, Loren often caught Annis looking solemn, or mayhap worried. Loren had taken Midnight to the rear after the satyr attack, to guard against any strikes from the back. But that put Annis directly behind Jordel and Xain, and the girl let the plowhorse drift as though she were afraid to draw close. Loren could see the fear in her eyes, and the worry whenever she looked at Xain.
    They stopped for a midday meal, and Jordel took Albern on a bit farther to scout the coming turns. Gem ran behind, like a puppy following its master. They left Xain bound on the ground, and though he slept, Annis still sat as far from the wizard as she could, even leaning to the side so there was no chance of touching him.
    Loren sat beside her. “What troubles you today? There is worry in your eyes, or mayhap fear.”
    Annis looked down at her bread and mumbled, “Tis nothing.”
    With a hand on the girl’s shoulder, Loren leaned closer. “Annis, I want to help.”
    She looked over at Xain, then back at Loren. “You know I do not like that Jordel brought the wizard with us. I hate what he did to us in Wellmont, and what he did to me. Yet … yet after the satyrs attacked us, the way that Jordel … ”
    Loren thought she understood. Jordel’s wrath had been terrible. The Mystic stood in serenity’s mold, and she had been amazed how even-tempered he was even in the face of Xain’s obstinate rebellion. It was not only the wizard; when the rest of them had hated Vivien and mistrusted her, Jordel had shown her courtesy and respect. Even when she sought to expose him for helping Xain, who had consumed magestone despite the King’s law, Jordel had looked upon her with understanding.
    And yet, he had beaten the wizard without mercy. A terrifying display, and Loren could find no fault in Annis’s fear. But could she find fault with Jordel? His greatest concern seemed to be their safety. Loren knew how highly he valued Xain. To be driven toward such rage, he must care deeply for Loren and the children, even more than he let on. Could Loren condemn his anger when she, too, was furious with the wizard for all he had done?
    But looking at the wizard now, Loren found it hard to muster much ire against him. He had shed great patches of hair. His cheekbones pressed sharply against the skin, and his hands were like a skeleton’s dressed in parchment. Jordel had to tighten his bonds every day because his body kept wasting away. It did not matter how much food they crammed around his gag, Xain’s body was eating itself from the inside.
    The wizard might die. He looked for all the world like one stricken by a terrible illness — the way Chet’s mother had looked back in the Birchwood, when her body failed and wasted away. No doubt if she had tried to traverse the mountain pass through the Greatrocks, the journey would have meant her death. Would it now be the end of Xain?
    A troubling question without an answer. Loren reached out, put an arm around Annis, and pulled the girl close. To her surprise,