Return of the Stormcriers

CHAPTER 39 - CHASING SHADOWS

  Matt leaned back against the rough wooden planks in the belly of The Jolly Deckhand, attempting to portray an ordinary traveler. Across from him in the narrow hallway that separated the two rows of rooms that had been constructed throughout the hold of the retired ship stood Cliff, posed in a similarly relaxed manner. Behind the two doors that they surreptitiously guarded lay the rest of their party, three to a room, enjoying their first chance at sleep in two days. The only member of their company who was not present in the inn was Clay, who had insisted that he could best serve their interests best if he continued to search the town for Moonshadow, arguing convincingly that the assassin would most likely wait until the deepest hours of night before attempting to flee Lathel, knowing how close they rode on his tail. Anthony had grudgingly agreed to the soldier's on the condition that the man swear to not engage Moonshadow or his men without first retrieving the rest of the party from the inn.

After they had gathered the rest of their group, which had unsuccessfully scoured Lathel for signs of Moonshadow, they had eaten what Matt would have happily described as the best meal of his life. Fresh vegetables grown on the farms around the city had been paired with the promised seafood; delicously seared and roasted fish and scallops, a delight Matt had never before enjoyed, having lived too far from the ocean to have any of the sea fishermens' catch. As he had expected Will had been fascinated by the revelation of the Wizard that had made the deal with Captain Beorn to keep the food fresh on its journey into town. The young noble pestered their host with as many questions about the mysterious magician as he could without revealing his own nature as a sorcerer, but no matter how much he pried the innkeeper refused to offer up as much as a description of his accomplice.

  They had retired belowdecks shortly thereafter, where Matt had volunteered for the first watch, eager to get his shift over while he was still awake on habit and adrenaline. Once he allowed sleep to take him, he needed it to remain uninterrupted until they resumed their march in the morning or he feared he would only be more tired than before. Cliff offered to pair with him on his watch while the others hastily claimed their beds in the two rooms that Matt and Jason had paid for.

"It is strange that we should find ourselves at this inn," Cliff chuckled wistfully from across the narrow hallway.

  "Why is that?" Matt asked, eager to learn more of the soldier's fascinating past, for as much as he had heard the captain speak he still felt as if he knew nothing about the man. He seemed insistent on speaking in riddles when not discussing swordsmanship.

  "I stayed in this very hotel when I traveled with Sylvia's father Jarrod, Treesia, and her companion Uriel just over a decade ago," Cliff said for once answering a question directly.

"Were you sent this way by the resistance?" Matt asked, emboldened by the Captain's candor.

  "No, that was before I joined the resistance before there was much of a resistance actually. I ran into them in a little town up in the mountains, and they convinced me to tag along in their travels. We pursued a necromancer across half of Verden."

  "Necromancer?" Matt asked, unfamiliar with the word; he had a fuzzy memory of Hal mentioning an old rogue necromancer during one of his confrontations with the dukes.

"Necromancy is a magic that deals with interacting, communicating, and raising the dead; creating undead abominations and grotesque imitations of life," disgust colored Cliff's words as he explained the concept.

"Will did not mention necromancy when he was explaining magic to me," Matt noted with interest, he wondered if the omission had been intentional. "Can necromancers bring people back from the dead?"

  "No, Matt. I know it is a tempting line of thought for those of us who have lost, but it is never the answer. It is impossible to bring someone back from the dead once they are gone. As many who have dabbled in the healing and in the necromantic arts have learned it is possible to give movement and animation back to a body that has been broken; but never a mind. Whatever lands we enter upon our death do not relinquish our sentience back to the tamperings of a mortal conjurer. The pursuit of this has left many a magician broken physically and mentally, for it takes a great expenditure of energy to even attempt such a feat. To the best of my knowledge, none have ever succeeded," Cliff warned seriously.