Chapter 5:
Their haul from the private wing was nothing to sneeze at. Moon opals for casting, enough gold to pay off anyone they came across. Sadly the weapons in the armory were ill-maintained or ceremonial. Even the sunforge blades barely crackled when pulled from their scabbards. They did manage to find a decorated woodsman's ax that suited Sloan, a knife for Ankora, and a non-descript human blade or Quinn.
The theft of the shadowpaws went off without a hitch. Jace's stables held several dozen of the beasts, each meticulously brushed daily and fed better than most people, humans or elves. The group split, each moving from stable to stable and letting the beasts out. Before the servants could return them, Ankoa conjured hundreds of illusions of rabbits, each tearing away into the surrounding forest.
The predatory beasts each tore after the illusory prey, much to the chagrin of the panicked stable staff. They regrouped almost a mile from the manse where five of the beasts sat placidly ensorceled by Ankora's moon magic.
"Well, here we are!" Quinn said, "That went about as well as it could have."
Sloan frowned, "I still don't think we had to hit him," he said "It wasn't nice, and he'll figure out what happened. People could be coming after us."
Quinn shook his head, "Sure, we got a little carried away," he said, "but in all the chaos, how could he figure out where we are going? Plus, once we humiliate him, what power would he have over us?"
"Yeah, don't worry so much," Ankora said, "He had it coming."
Rayla shook her head, "He may have," she said, "But it was an unnecessary risk."
Callum almost spoke up, in his experience it took more than a single embarrassment to remove someone from a position of power. He had seen nobles and kings make catastrophic decisions in their arrogance, decisions that would get people killed, and face next to no consequences. His own ste… (Father, Callum reminded himself, Harrow was my father) had, in a moment of rage, doom himself and so many others.
He wondered if the others knew this. Quinn and Ankora at least pretended not to. He couldn't tell if it was born out of ignorance, or a confidence so deep that it bordered on suicidal. Even with Sloan, Callum
Callum had been traveled with Rayla for weeks at this point, and he could tell by her posture that she wasn't just worried. Sat in the saddle her shoulders were slumped forward, her neck bent. Usually Rayla had perfectly practiced posture, perhaps a result of her years of assassin training.
Callum hitched himself further up on his saddle, the leather was nearly as black as the mount, strong but soft, and speckled with stones of every color, inset in the pommel was an opal etched with runes. The stone must have cost a fortune, and each saddle, despite other minor aesthetic differences, featured this stone. Must be a family crest of some sort, Callum thought, Like the towers of Katolis.
"I'm sure it will be ok." Callum said, mainly for Rayla's benefit, "We've got this."
Her eyes were soft, a sort of pleading pity, tinged with regret.
"We'll play it by ear," Ankora said flippantly, "Things always work out for us."
Rayla wasn't sure if regularly retching in your own filth constituted 'things working out.' Maybe her first instinct was the right one, for all the help these three had been, they had also potentially earned She and Callum a powerful enemy. Jace was well known for how petty he could be. An errant insult, even an unintentional one, could incense the elf.
"We should still be careful," Rayla said, looking back at Callum and Zym. The baby dragon was in the process of winding himself around Callum's neck, much to the prince's chagrin. Ankora was smirking, swigging from one of her 'water' skins, clearly enjoying the prince's discomfort.
"You know Kora," Quinn said loudly, dropping back to ride alongside her, "You know the young prince here is a mage, almost fried me the first time we met."
Ankora's face fell, "I can tolerate dark magic," she said to the prince pointedly, clearly not meaning it, "but I'm not ingredients, remember that." Her usually casual body language grew stiff, and her hand drifted closer to her dagger.
Even Sloan, usually comfortable around Callum, strayed away from the prince.
Quin feigned surprise, "Oh! But you misunderstand! The prince cast primal magic, a fantastic fulminus if I do say so myself," he said, "you've seen Ankora's magic, ask her to teach you a thing or two," he said, clapping Callum on the shoulder.
Both Ankora looked excited, Sloan flabbergasted, "Get out!" Ankora said loud enough to scare the birds from the trees, "How'd you do it? Was it the dragon?" she turned to Sloan, "It could have been the dragon." Sloan nodded, sagely.
"He tried to use dark magic," Rayla said, "Almost died, when he woke up he could use sky magic."
"Well, look at you, lucky!" Ankora said, "Never heard of a human using real magic before, If you learn moon, I can teach you, I've been called a prodigy."
"You've also been called the town drunk," Rayla said.
Ankora laughed, "I excelled at both."
Rayla shook her head as both Ankora and Sloan pulled up beside Callum, Sloan badgering him with questions, Ankora trying to maintain her cool.
Rayla took the lead, distancing herself from the din behind her. Quinn pulled up next to her. "You doing ok Little Ray?" he asked her, with slightly less theater than usual.
Rayla urged her shadowpaw ahead, refusing to look at him, "I'm fine!" she said, with enough force to make it clear that she was far from fine.
"We're basically family at this point Little Ray," Quinn said, "You can tell me what's wrong."
Rayla shivered. "We are not." she said, calmly.
"Come again?" Quinn asked.
"You heard me," Rayla said, not looking at him. She pulled ahead.
Quinn's face fell. He hoped that he was getting closer to Rayla, one of the few vestiges of family that he had left. Alone as he was, he had little choice but to cling to the elven detritus that was swept by him. Sloan and Ankora were left with him, just as so were the prince and the assassin, as far as he was concerned. However long it may take for her to come around.
Rayla rode ahead thinking of what Runaan would think of her here. Taken in by the very lowest of the moonshadow. Those who presented no possibility of redemption. The raw vestiges of society, for whom the future held only exile. He would condemn her to their company, she knew.
Callum reached out to Sloan, their artistic connection had forged some sense of community. Sloan grasped the prince's hand. Callum showed no worry, the massive elf and the diminutive prince had come to some sort of unspoken agreement.
Their first night making camp, the shadowpaws encircling a roaring fire, Callum lead Sloan through his sketches, Ankora acting as if she wasn't interested, all the while glancing at the drawings.
Quinn tried to distance himself from the din. Rayla had rejected him, and his connection to Callum was still tenuous. He hoped he could still draw them in, but the odds were not in his favor. Somehow he had pushed his two new friends away.
"Got her face just right!" Ankora said, elbowing the mortified Callum, "No one ever drew me like thatl!" Rayla blushed and looked away while Callum stammered out some excuse about objectivity.
"She saved our lives, of course I would draw her," Callum said, as Rayla's cheeks darkened.
Ankora took stock of these painfully awkward virgins, and resolved to bring them together. "If anyone ever made a picture of me like that, I'd mary them on the spot," she said, "he sees the best in you girlie. Hold onto that."
Quinn wanted to join in, but even now, at the inception of his unraveling, he sensed his uselessness. In the coming weeks he was cast from his family, whose love he had won, hard fought.
Perhaps it was always his destiny to be left behind. But he didn't yet know the suffering that awaited him.
"We should make camp," Quinn said, perhaps sensing his future, "We have a ways to go."
As the camp was set up, the banished coward played with the storm dragon. At least this creature didn't pity him. He felt it. Even from Sloan and Ankora. Their vision on him. They knew that he failed to kill the Katolin general, the one the prince reminded him so much of.
Their reasons from exile were more petty. Quinn's was genuine. For all their cruelty, they were right. He was a coward. A weakling. He was no hero.
All of this pulsed through his head as he helped them set up camp. The other four, he saw his ancestors in them. Great culture heroes. The kinds of which moved continents while he was left adrift in a sea of troubles. Even the human prince, coddled as he was, chose the path of the hero. The one that had so repulsed Quinn.
He wanted to hold them close and tell them that everything would be ok. But he couldn't. He realized that he had nothing to give them.
As they set up for the night, he saw Rayla pull away from him and his even more than usual. He thought that she was hewing closer to Ankora and Sloan, if now him, but now she was straying even from the prince. The royal seemed to sense her distance, and it worried him.
He loved them all. More than he loved his own comfort or safety. He knew this to be true. But still, if they were stripped from him, it would kill him.
Sloan looked at him with reverence, Ankora with tolerance. Callum didn't know what to make of him, and he accepted this, but Rayla's gaze held contempt, and worse, pity. Quinn didn't know how to handle this.
They set up for the night, the shadowpaws lined up symmetrically around the campfire. Callum and Rayla slightly closer than the other three were to each other. There was a casual familiarity that Quinn envied. Ankora gave them a knowing glance, Sloan gave them space. The large elf was madly whittling something, trying to keep it secret.
Moonshadow elves were notoriously private about their dalliances, Quinn's heart went out to Rayla and Callum. Star crossed though they were, he wished them happiness. He saw a future where princes sported diminutive horns. They learned moonshadow fairy tales and human parables.
He wished for a world without assassins, a place where he and Ankora and Sloan wouldn't have been discarded. Where they could have lived without ever fearing for the future.
They needed firewood, Ankora seemed particularly perturbed by the lack of heat.
The illusionist started towards the woods. Sloan and the prince were locked in some sort of nerd conversation about the mutability of form, and the importance of depicting emotion in form, whatever that meant.
"Ray, could you help Kora grab some firewood," Quinn asked, "We men will set up camp. Male bonding and all that."
"
Callum shot Rayla a look that pleaded "Don't leave me with them."
The assassin offered no succor.
Rayla started toward the treeline while the two elves towering over Callum chanted "MALE BONDING, MALE BONDING."
For all the prince's etiquette training, he had to preparation for this.
"You're a good artist," Sloan said, blushing like a schoolgirl, "It's good to meet another artist.
Right as Callum went to respond, Quinn clapped him on the back and said, "Well, it's good to have a prince on your side, spare us some glory when we save the world, won't you?"
The two elves sat next to the human prince, their arms around him. Quinn thought how surreal it was, cradling a nephew of an assassination target. He even had some love for the poor kid.
Callum sputtered. "Well, I like hanging out with you guys," he said, Sloan's eyes welled with tears.
The massive elf held the human to his chest. Callum only seemed worried for a second before returning the hug.
"Thank you," Sloan said, tucking the human prince into the crook of his neck.
"Keep it together!" Quinn said, despite his more tender feelings, "We have to keep some semblance of respectability. Think about what the girls would say about us."
"You girls do what you will," he said, "This is male bonding time." Callum shot Rayla a pleading look. She didn't know why. She was stuck with the drunk.
—-
Ankora deliberated for less than a second. "So the human is cute," she said, "and a mage. Quite a catch."
Rayla went stock still. "I don't know what youre talking about," she said, stiff as a board.
"You damn well know what I mean," Ankora said, wobbling an empty wineskin at Rayla. "You should despoil that family line," she slurred, "he's crazy about you."
Rayla blushed deeply and kept gathering firewood. "We're not talking about this." Rayla said, only arousing more suspicion.
"Awww you're sweet on him," she said, rocking and laughing perhaps a bit too hard. "A sweet artistic boy, you're going to drag him back home, keep him locked in the bedroom."
Rayla blushed deeper than she could imagine. "You're crazy!" she said.
—-
"You kissed her yet?" Quinn probed. Callum tried to catch his breath, but only managed to hyperventilate. "Don't worry kid! Your secret is safe with me," Quinn said.
Sloan nodded, "she likes you," he said, petting Callum's head at the fire.
"She's just a friend," Callum insisted. Sloan and Quinn exchanged knowing looks. "Whatever you say, your majesty," Quinn said, "Just remember who your friends are.
When Rayla and Ankora returned, they drifted to sleep. The elder elves watched the stilted personal politics of Callum and Rayla and resolved to bring them together.