Chapter 44
Chapter forty-four
Thornfell
Ikept up as best I could.
But soon the company reached the main road and turned south.
There, the sparse trees and flat landscape meant that I had to trail far behind.
To make matters worse, anytime a traveler approached from either direction, I had to duck behind a rock or a bush or whatever other cover I could find.
I was a wanted man and couldn’t risk being noticed.
Soon, however, that became a moot point.
A group on horseback intercepted the Sentinels from the south, including a prison wagon similar to the one we had ridden into Pyrehold.
My heart ached as Darion and Elena were shoved mercilessly into the back; all I could do was look on, powerless.
Then the entire caravan disappeared into the distance.
The good news was that I knew their destination.
The bad news was that their destination was Thornfell Keep.
Perched on an island and surrounded on all four sides by steep, jagged cliffs, it was unreachable except via a single stone bridge connecting it to the mainland.
There was no other way to get in or out unless you managed to sprout wings.
I was struggling to formulate a plan. Ever since I’d begun holding back my Ember, my mind had felt muddy, less sharp.
The effect had happened slowly, so I’d barely noticed the cumulative impact.
But the time for caution was over, so I let my Ember flow.
The effect was immediate. The haze around my brain lifted, and memories and visual details snapped back into place like missing cogs in a finely tuned machine.
It was a terrible thing to have to hold back who you were for fear of being caught. How long had Darion lived like that?
First I had to figure out how to catch up with the caravan that held Darion and Elena.
I dug into my memories of the maps of Velmorra I had studied in the Order of Emberlight library.
The wagon could travel only on main roads, so the caravan would go south to Grey Spit before turning east to Thornfell Keep.
But I could cut the corner.
A path went directly through rough terrain and forest, unsuitable for large caravans and wheeled vehicles. But for a lone determined man on a mission? If I ran hard enough, I might even arrive before them. In any case, I had to try.
With my Ember flowing and a strengthened sense of purpose, I raced into the woods. For the rest of the day and into the night, I rarely stopped. Only when I could no longer see the path and my feet burned like fire did I pause.
Huddled into the hollow of a tree, covered by my cloak, I drifted into a restless sleep, haunted by nightmares of Darion and Elena tied up on racks, lifeless, with tubes of amber liquid flowing into them.
I woke up with a start. The first hints of dawn filtered through the trees, and the morning birds were singing. I had slept longer than I’d intended. Every muscle and bone in my body ached, but the rest had replenished my energy, so I continued down the path.
It was midday when the trees started thinning and the first whiffs of briny sea air hit my nose.
Soon the caws of seagulls signaled that my destination was approaching.
I had spent my entire trip pondering my options, but I still wasn’t sure what I’d do when I arrived.
If I beat the caravan, was there any chance I could infiltrate it? If so, I didn’t know how.
As I approached enemy territory, I stifled my Ember. The effects were even worse this time, leaving me feeling hollowed out.
Soon the high spire of Thornfell Keep rose above the trees and the last of the forest gave way to grassy seaside cliffs. Before me was the small hamlet of Thornfell, a town that existed solely to accommodate the many servants, craftsmen, and alchemists required to operate Thornfell Keep.
Leading up to the town, the main east-west road extended for miles. Had I beaten the caravan? If they had stopped for a full night’s rest, then it was possible. I considered finding a perch and waiting, but if they had beaten me, I’d simply be wasting time.
The town’s namesake loomed in the distance, massive, opulent, and grotesque.
Its high spires defied nature as they rose from the sea, the foundations of the citadel built right into the sheer cliffs pounded by the relentless surf.
Even from here, I could feel the faint thrumming of the null field.
But something about it felt worse than normal.
Sharper. More wicked. For a heartbeat, my courage faltered. How was I supposed to break into that?
I needed some intel. I needed a plan. Not to mention that I could use a real meal and fresh supplies. But I would have to be careful; the town was likely crawling with spies and sympathizers loyal to the Crown. I drew my cloak around me and covered my head with my hood.
The main road into town had a guard station. Rather than test my luck right from the start, I let my Ember flow the slightest bit, scaled the perimeter wall, and slipped into a side alley. The null field was strong and seemed to envelop the entire town, so I quickly muted my Ember.
Despite it being midday, the town felt deserted and unnaturally quiet.
Only the soft moaning of the wind through the barren streets broke the silence.
I would normally expect to see merchants and people traveling to their destinations.
But all the homes and businesses were shut up tight, and only a few lonely souls hurried along the cobblestone road.
The good news was that no one was friendly enough to make eye contact, and I mostly went unnoticed. When the occasional Royal Guard passed by, I ducked into the shadows or hid behind stacked barrels or crates.
Ahead of me was a two-story building with rows of windows. A wooden sign with a picture of a pint of ale hung outside. Perhaps I could get a hot meal and some local gossip. But as I approached, a group of Royal Guard entered, bantering and laughing, likely on the way to their midday meal.
Looked like I’d have to go elsewhere.
As I continued along the street past the inn, something caught my eye down a side alley. The image of a mortar and pestle next to a vial was painted on a wooden sign hanging outside a humble-looking shop.
Syra’s words replayed in my mind: Find Elandra…potion merchant.
It couldn’t be that easy. Or could it?
After all, Syra knew where the Sentinels intended to bring us. Could pointing me in the correct direction have been her final act of defiance against those who had enslaved her?
Either way, I desperately needed some new supplies, so I decided to take the risk.
As I pushed through the door, the chime of a bell rang out.
The inside of the shop was cramped and dim with a tiny window providing the only light.
A wooden counter dominated the room, leaving scarcely enough room to stand.
An elderly woman sat at a table with her back to me, her finger running over the words of an open book. She made no effort to acknowledge me.
I stood patiently until the woman licked her finger and turned the page. Only then did I clear my throat.
The woman spoke without looking up from her book. “You’re not from Thornfell.”
There was something oddly familiar about the voice.
“No, I’m traveling from Analon—”
I hadn’t even finished my sentence before she resumed reading.
“I’m in need of—”
“You should try Grey Spit,” the woman interrupted, closing her book and getting up. She headed for a door.
“Are you Elandra?” I asked.
The woman froze, her shoulders tensing.
“There’s no one here by that name,” she said gruffly, then continued toward the door.
“Do you know a Syra?” I asked.
The woman froze again, clenching her fists, still not turning around. “Get out of my shop or I’ll call the Royal Guard.”
It was clear she knew more than she was telling me. This was my only lead, all I had left. If I couldn’t get information here, Elena and Darion would likely be lost.
So I took a deep breath and said Syra’s dying words: “The moon dances with the stars.”
The woman’s shoulders drooped. She spun around, her lips quivering. “Where d-did you hear that?” she stuttered.
The sudden recognition was like a slap to the face. I could scarcely believe it.
“Mrs. Crowe?”