SHADOWY FORM

Sureen blinked. Evening’s golden light replaced the darkness of hood and blindfold. Foliage faded into view, matching the scents and sounds she had smelled and heard for some time from horseback. Teal ferns grew near fallen logs clumped with lime green moss. Thick roots of the great falun trees dived under a long ago cultivated wagon trail. The trunks rose beyond sight on both sides, creaking now and then from a light breeze. Not far ahead, an arced wooden bridge raised high at the center spanned the Even Flow River, one of four crossings accessing the town of Four Bridges.

Stuffing the kell leather hood and soft cloth in his bags, the graying, grizzle-faced Captain Bronaham rode to the front of the line, six horses away.

Sitting her horse on Sureen’s left side, Kara Laurel gripped her appaloosa stallion’s reins in her left hand. The right held the white crystal staff and her roan mare’s reins. “You shall remain with your hands bound behind your back for a while longer, my dear. I would hate to have you lost in such a backwoods town.”

“Why are we here, Kara? What is it you wish of me?”

Kara Laurel smiled with the same sweet radiant smile Sureen recalled from their youth, the one that lit her green eyes with an inner glow of vibrancy. “There is someone you need to meet, someone you shall befriend and bond with.”

“Are you quite certain of that?” Sureen asked. “I choose friends with much care.”

Kara Laurel’s laugh was a tinkle of tiny silver bells, as rich as her mood. “How well I know,” she said. “Come, we have little time left before darkness falls.”

Urging her roan mare forward, Kara Laurel followed the black Shire warhorses, strolling at an easy clop in single file. Soon they were thumping over the high arc of the bridge and then plodding onto the well-packed trail on the outskirts of town.

They passed a wagon lined with straw leaving town. With the passage barely adequate for two carts abreast as the trail narrowed for the bridge, the farmer gazed at her openly, his brown eyes bold with curiosity from under his wide-brimmed kell hat.

Sureen stared back, hoping he would ask the meaning of her binding and perhaps gain interest from the many other horses and wagons trailing him to cause a scene of many inquiries. Instead, the man’s eyes shifted from her as soon as he noted her arms bound behind her, which denoted her as a User held under guard. Quickly, he looked to the road ahead, his body rigid as he moved from sight.

Disappointed, Sureen tried the same boldness with several of those exiting the providence, her eyes imploring them to speak. Every eye slid past her as most noticed the reins Kara Laurel gripped led to more than her horse.

Giving up, Sureen focused on her surroundings. The town of Four Bridges spread between the eastern side of Lake Ever Cold and the base of Glacier Mountain, the rambling wood and stone structures small underneath its looming presence.

The place had a festive air about it. Townspeople and visitors flocked about going about some sort of new spring event. Colored ribbons and banners hung from nearly every storefront. Young men and women chased after each other dressed in garb gaudier than even the most flamboyant merchants wore.

Reining sharply to the left, Captain Bronaham swung into a side alley filled with refuse. Guiding his warhorse around the larger piles, he halted beside a nondescript wooden door.

Dismounting, he stepped gingerly over to where Kara Laurel had brought their horses to a halt and helped the woman dismount. Then Sureen found his strong arms around her waist as she slid to the muck, wincing when it splashed wetly.

Kara Laurel handed the reins of the horses to him. “Meet inside, after the animals are stabled. The booth is at the back. Set your men up with drink, but remind them of the need for discreetness.”

Captain Bronaham inclined his head. “Aye,” he said. Climbing into the saddle, he rode off leading the two horses. His twelve leather-clad men followed in silence. The dark armor of the Citadel had long ago been replaced with the kell leather of Four Bridges.

Kara Laurel laid her delicate hand upon Sureen’s lower back, clasping her bound hands within it. “Come, dear, we are to go through the servant entrance to the Muddy Wagon Inn and Tavern. We must make haste. My master has waited with little patience.”

Sureen did not bother with an answer.

Thumbing the latch, Kara Laurel pushed her firmly inside. Pressing on the small indent of her back, her intimate friend from early adulthood channeled her through a kitchen active with the meaty smells of broth and fresh vegetables. Cooks wearing splattered aprons worked in a frenzied elaborate dance, slicing at counters, stirring cast-iron pots, and flipping sizzling meats over a large flat-topped stove. No one glanced overly long at them.

Leaving the kitchen, they entered a smoky tavern filled with the drone of many raucous voices. The booth at the back proved to be the first one they came to, dimly lit and occupied by three shadowy forms.

Kara Laurel’s touch indicated she should sit at a circular benched seating. Sureen did so, shuffling inward and making room for her captor. One of the shapes across the round table leaned forward and adjusted the wick on the oil lamp centered on the table. The light flickered brighter.

A voice Sureen had heard many times spoke softly as a face she knew well leaned into the light. “What have you told her?” Durandas asked.

Kara Laurel chuckled. “Not much, only that there is someone coming to our little gathering she will want to meet.”

“Which is much more than you have revealed to us, First Light of the Circle of Light,” Malkor sneered. As the light flickered across his narrow face, his eyes seemed lit with an inner, smoky red fire.

The third person, a handsome man Sureen hadn’t yet met, drew the hood of his gray robe over curly brown hair. “I told you not to trust him. You are a fool, Lore Master,” the man said.

Durandas’ dark eyes smoldered. When had his eyes darkened? “Your trust is not required, outlander. Only your power, if we cannot convince the Azure User to join with us.”

Sureen gaped like one afflicted without the ability for coherent thought. What in the name of all bloody subterfuge was going on? What vile plan had these people taken her prisoner to implement? More importantly, why did they need her? There was enough power at the table to lay waste to the entire tavern, even without knowing what the outlander was capable of.

Outside the light’s reach, a shadowy form slipped into the booth.