Silvain Ironleaf's Arc

Chapter 2 of 7

The next morning Silvain climbed the cleared pass alone. The lynx cub padded ahead, ears sharp. Silvain wanted to scout the upper trail and mark it safe for the first caravans. But halfway up the cub froze. It flattened its ears and stared at the rocks above. Someone was following. Silvain crouched behind a snowbank and watched the trail below. A figure moved between the boulders, quiet as smoke. Grey hair, a green cloak torn at the hem, blades strapped across a small frame. Silvain knew the type. A fallen elven scout, the kind who sold their skills to the assassin guild. He had trailed them since the pass. If Silvain waited to learn why, a knife might come first. Silvain made a choice. Better to face him than be hunted. Silvain stepped onto the trail in plain sight and planted the staff. "You've followed me since dawn," Silvain called. "Say your business." The scout stopped. His hand hovered near a blade but did not draw. A thin scar cut across one cheek. He studied Silvain with pale eyes. "You cleared the trail," he said. "The one who owns this mountain wants that undone. He sent me." "And yet you're talking," Silvain said. "Assassins don't announce themselves." The scout's mouth twitched. He reached slowly into his cloak and drew out a worn ledger, its pages thick with careful marks. He tossed it onto the snow between them. "Routes," he said. "Every hidden path in these hills. The paths he watches, and the ones he doesn't. I kept his books. Now I'm done keeping them." Silvain did not move. "Why give this to me?" "Because he burns anyone who's outlived their use." The scout touched the scar on his cheek. "He tried to burn me. I'd rather he lose his road than keep my head down." Silvain weighed the trap in it. A gift could hide a blade. But the cub sat calm now, ears loose, no hiss. The animal smelled no ambush. Silvain crouched and lifted the ledger. The marks showed smuggler trails winding past the mountain's watchers, straight to the peaks. "Walk with me, then," Silvain said. "Or walk away. But choose now." The scout looked back down the pass, then at Silvain's open hand. He stepped forward. "Thaelis," he said. "Shadowstep, they called me. I know how he moves. You don't." Silvain nodded and pocketed the ledger. The trailing shadow was gone. In its place stood a guide who knew the enemy's secrets. But Thaelis carried the guild's mark, and no man betrayed his master without leaving a debt behind. Somewhere above, the mountain's owner would learn his scout had turned. And now he would know which way Silvain was coming.