Meuric (25 page)

XXXVI

But still Thales did not make a move.

Meuric could see the E'del hireling looking hard at him. It was the thought of Iason that held him back.

There is something about you now that reminds him of Iason
, explained the voice of Radha.

The former Knight Protector reached out with his magick. Like Radha, Meuric possessed the Gift of Distant Perception. It was the ability to enter a person's mind. Whereas she could perceive someone from a distance the Daw'ra man had to be in a direct line of sight and even then he could only fathom what was on the surface. He could hear the question swirling repeatedly around Thales's mind. He had started with the obvious.

Iason was taller, though not as broad, the E'del hireling decided. Though swarthy of skin his hair was the colour of dark copper that marked his mixed heritage, whereas Meuric's hair was black and his skin not as dark as the E'del's own. It was the eyes that Thales finally decided on, as so many before him would notice if they took the time. Even though Iason's eyes were a piercing sapphire blue and Meuric's were a cold grey, it was the way they seemed to look at you—unflinching, all-seeing, judging and, above all else, seemingly far too old for such a young face.

The hireling cursed silently to himself as he was forced to admire Meuric's continued easy composure. Thales was no different. His body language indicated that he seemed relaxed, almost bored, making neither aggressive nor anxious moves, purposely setting himself up that way. His eyes dropped to Meuric's hands and immediately he saw the danger hidden there. He had guessed correctly that the man opposite him hid a couple of reversed knives.

He was good, judged Meuric. His instincts were very, very good. Perhaps he would even be good enough to take Iason's place should he ever fall. It was then that Thales found the former Knight Protector's eyes. Meuric could see that he was visibly moved. He did not need his Gift to know what he was experiencing. Meuric had heard the same comment over many years, from different people, throughout differing nations. They were so cold that for the first time in his life the mercenary understood what it must be like to have Deo, the God of Death, stare back at him.

Memories started to stir within Thales's mind. There was something suddenly very familiar about the warrior before him. There was something about the weapons he carried, the way the rider carried himself and with such old eyes in such a young face. But for the life of him the hireling could not remember what. Thales began to rub his temples as his head began to pound. Meuric knew that this was the side-effect of having someone probe your mind.

Recollections rose up. These were memories that had been blocked by Iason, Meuric could see. Again a picture of Iason leapt into his mind. This time the nervous and timid man was gone. He was replaced by a man of the same relaxed and confident manner that the rider before him bore, yet many times he had claimed to be no warrior. A memory from a few years ago burst forth.

Margarita losing control of her horses and chariot. A cliff edge before her. Iason reaching her first. He leapt from his horse upon the chariot easily, bringing the panicked beasts under control. There was no sweat from Iason, no fear, no sense of tension. Thales remembered commenting on this to him. In response the E'del merchant simply smiled and moved away without an explanation. Movement caught the ageing hireling's eye. The man Graviil shifted nervously in his saddle. His shield hand slowly made for the dagger in his belt.

“Stay calm, idiot, or we will all be dead,” hissed Thales.

“You are a coward, old man,” cried Gavriil.

Thales's shield shot up slamming the E'del discerner squarely in the face. The soldier fell hard off his horse. The elderly warrior attempted to turn to face the men to his rear but suddenly slumped forward. A crossbow bolt jutted from his back, fired from the man directly to his rear. A dagger from the fourth man was thrown directly at Meuric. Thales could only gape with astonishment at the Daw'ra warrior.

Almost faster than the human eye could follow, Meuric brought his arms up and down in a sweeping motion launching his two dirks. For an instant only Thales watched the knife thrown by the Druid man whistle past his head, only to see it deftly caught by Meuric by the hilt. At the same time he heard the bodies of the men behind him fall to the ground. The E'del man slid off the horse, all his strength beginning to leave him. He twisted as he went down, landing hard on his back. The air exploded from his lungs as the bolt was pushed in deeper into his lungs. Blood burst from his mouth.

Almost casually Meuric dismounted and drew one sword from its sheaths on his back. His other hand held a small crossbow. Giving a cursory glance about and beyond his attackers, the Kel'akh warrior made his way towards the still bodies. Meuric paused momentarily to look at the hireling, who lay on his back staring skyward. He looked at Gavriil who continued to lie face down on the ground.

“You should not have taken this job, Thales,” said Meuric in fluent E'del.

The mercenary gave a gruff laugh. Blood spluttered onto his lips.

“This is what I do.” He gathered his strength then added, “I had no idea that you were a friend of Iason. If I had known…” He did not have the strength to finish the sentence.

“Listen to me, Thales,” said Meuric as he knelt. “I have a friend not far from here. She is a gifted healer. If you have the strength to hang on I could call for her.”

“And why would you do this?” asked the mercenary, failing to keep the disbelief and hope away from his voice.

“It is not without a price, Thales,” answered Meuric. “Tell me all about the people who hired you.”

The elderly hireling shook his head. “That is not the code as well you know.”

“Do it for your daughter and Iason.” Thales shook his head, persisting in keeping silent. “Time is not on your side,” Meuric reminded him.

The E'del man weakly nodded. “A snake of a man called Tacitus. A Roz'eli senator.”

Meuric nodded. “I know of him. He commands their General Agents. Does he operate on the authority of the Emperor?” He remembered the man in senatorial robes outside Ah'mos next to the Dark Druid.

I am on my way, Meuric
, whispered Radha suddenly into the mind of the former soldier of the Protectorate.

“Be strong, Thales,” comforted Meuric. He gripped Thales's hand and felt a coldness that had already settled in his skin. “My friend Radha will be here soon.”

A weak laugh caused the two men to look. Using all the strength he could muster, Gavriil rolled himself onto his back. Blood matted his freckled face and short auburn hair. He laughed again, the blood pouring from his mouth, forcing him to spit.

“You are too late for her, Knight,” claimed the discerner. “The Dark Druid has already killed her.”

In an instant Meuric lifted his crossbow and fired once. A single bolt landed dead centre of Gavriil's forehead. Thales gazed at the body of his companion, seemingly unaffected by the grizzly sight.

“You must go to her,” he mumbled.

Radha, can you hear me
? asked Meuric silently.

There was no answer. He moved off to search the other two corpses. Thales was watching him intently. His eyes began to glaze over.

“There is no hope for me, Meuric. I have seen enough fatal injuries in my lifetime.” He paused and cocked his head to one side. “Do you hear that? It sounds like a woman's voice.”

Meuric retrieved his arrow from Gavriil's head and the daggers from the bodies of the other two Dark Druid warriors. Using their tunics he wiped the blood off though there was no need. Nothing stuck to the metal of the Knight Protector. He looked around and saw no one. He reached out with his magick. A moment later he regained his composure.

“It is Nana,” explained Meuric. “She is coming for you.” The warrior knelt by the dying man. “Look to your left, Thales. Do you see your wife standing there? She is waving to you? Choose,” whispered Meuric softly. “Is it life that you really want or is it to be with Nana.”

Thales's head lolled to his left. The ethereal figure of a woman appeared and stood several cubits away. A large grin spread across the mercenary's weather-beaten face. He reached out his left arm towards her. Tears ran unashamedly from Thales's eyes. The spectre glided forward and knelt down next to the old mercenary, her smile a mixture of radiance and joy. His hand touched the edge of her face and Meuric watched in fascination as a faint blue light crackled with energy at the point of contact. Thales almost giggled as the foreign sensation tickled his fingertips.

“My wife, my love” he whispered. “I am coming to you.”

As the last of his strength failed, Thales's arm fell to the ground and he died. A look of contentment was fixed on his face. The Daw'ra man stood.

Meuric
, screamed Radha into his mind.
Help me
!

The Kel'akh Knight Protector's voice shouted with such power that the Daw'ra man staggered. His knees almost buckled beneath the force of her cry. Her words sounded hollow and Meuric knew that it was the future that he had just heard. A picture exploded into his mind. It was of Radha fighting for her life next to her rectangular home against two assailants.

“Antestes cambire,” he muttered.

In an instant his clothes were gone, replaced with the dark garb and weapons of a Knight Protector. Even as he gathered the power of his magick, Meuric already knew that he would be too late to save Radha. He leapt and flew high into the air.

XXXVII

From the rear of the village, five horsemen suddenly appeared at a full gallop, stopping finally a little short of the barrier of Rainier's War Band warriors. They had galloped through the village at full pelt, nearly knocking over several people as they went, delaying for no one. Without waiting to be told, Bradán knew that this did not bode well for them.

He turned to his Chosen Man. “Stand ready.”

The man nodded and turned to the Dark Druid's troops. Bradán began moving towards the senator. Whatever else he thought of him, Tacitus was important to the plans of the Dark Druid.

“Father!” screamed the lead rider.

All turned at the sound of the voice, including Tacitus and the Roz'eli soldiers. The archers lowered their bows. Bradán hesitated and followed the young warrior's line of sight to Rainier.

“Xavier,” gasped the War Band Commander.

Bradán looked from the lead rider to his father and saw the unspoken message there. Rainier had only to take one look at the desperation in his son's pale blue eyes to understand the danger that the Roz'eli soldiers and the men of the Druid Legion posed. He saw Rainier's face become set. Bradán comprehended immediately what was about to happen.

“Move!” yelled Bradán, grabbing the senator. He began to run, dragging the senator in tow.

“Kill them all!” yelled Rainier simultaneously.

He hammered two mighty blows to Urbanus's temple before hauling him to the ground. Bradán knew that the War Band needed no second command. Roz'eli may control these lands but a long-standing hate still festered here. At the words of command the War Band archers spun and fired their bows in one fluid motion. Some knelt as they did so. All the arrows peppered the necks and faces of the Roz'eli soldiers and Dark Druid's men alike. Bradán allowed himself one glance back.

Arrows sped all around him and Tacitus. The people of Rabi'a by now had raced home for their weapons and ran to assist their War Band. Those carrying batons dropped them and drew their knives. They raced forward after the last arrows had been fired. Any wounded found were mercilessly stabbed to death.

Bradán sped around a corner at the back of a building and straight into an oncoming Rabi'a warrior. The two tumbled and fell hard to the ground. Both struggled to be the first up but the War Band fighter had managed to grab Bradán's throat as he sat on top of him, strangling the air to his windpipe. His grip was tight and powerful and already the Kel'akh warrior saw the dark clouds forming at the edges of his vision as he began to black out.

Suddenly there was release and he was able to breathe again, though his throat hurt terribly. A liquid spray of red suddenly burst over him. The clouds rolled back and he blinked furiously as he looked up.

Tacitus had grabbed the man's jaw with one hand and pulled back his head, fully extending his throat. He had rammed his dagger into the front of the man's throat and had torn it straight across, so that the warrior could not have even called out. Without giving the dead man a second thought, the senator pushed the corpse to the side. Bradán coughed as he shakily stood.

“My thanks,” he managed to say grudgingly. He looked about. “We need to hide and lie low now.” He pointed his thumb at the building next to them. “In there.”

Tacitus looked at the three-storey building, appalled. “That is Theirn's home.”

“No better place,” snapped Bradán pushing the senator forward. “Now move.” There was a small opening in the wall. Its shutters lay open. It was roughly a man's height from the ground but small enough for a person to just about crawl through. “Through there. Make sure none of the blood marks the wall.” The Druid Captain was thinking quickly now. He could hear the organised commands from Theirn and Rainier and the sounds of townsfolk getting closer. “We cannot afford to make any scuff marks either. Take off your toga, turn it inside out and put it over the window's edge.”

Immediately Tacitus did so, revealing the Roz'eli uniform of the General Agents beneath; a light grey tunic with soft leather armour of a deeper grey. It was never to be worn in combat as General Agents' main duty
was strictly intelligence gathering. They never fought on the battlefield and so only wore day-to-day clothes. The uniform was worn on ceremonial occasions only.

Launching the clothing over the window edge, Bradán squatted against the wall and cupped one hand inside the other. Immediately Tacitus put one sandalled foot in his hands. Bradán grunted as he lifted the senator high and felt relief as Tacitus slid in through the gap over his toga.

Will he come for me?

Tense heartbeats reverberated in his chest before the Roz'eli senator appeared above him, arm extended. Stepping back, Bradán gave a quick look about before charging the wall and leapt up. Tacitus grabbed him easily and dragged him through the opening as if he weighed no more than a child. He slid the toga along with him. On the other side, Bradán could see that the senator stood on a table.

“Move the table back to exactly where you found it,” commanded Bradán as the two leapt onto the floor. “Then we will make our way up the stairs.”

“Is that wise?” questioned Tacitus as he lifted the table to its original spot.

The Druid Captain simply nodded. He was temporarily dumbfounded. The table that he had lifted was no light weight. The sounds of running men suddenly touched their ears from where they had just left. The townspeople had found the dead man and had begun to search the homesteads and buildings. The sounds indicated that they were moving away from them.

“We need some time to be able to make contact with the Dark Druid,” said Bradán when he had found his voice. “I am hoping that this will be one of the last buildings to be searched.” Bradán paused for a moment then said, “I have to ask about your strength… Was it a Gift from our Master?”

Tacitus shook his head. Almost reluctant to speak, he finally admitted, “It is from someone more powerful than even he and one who I would give my life for. When we return home maybe I will speak to her about you joining her crusade. Surprisingly, you have proved extremely useful.”

Bradán's faced darkened. He did not need to ask who “she” was. The Druid Captain led the way then silently up the stone steps to a higher level; their footfalls making barely any sound. Searching the several closed doorways, they finally settled on a small storeroom, the window of which looked out onto open ground
overlooking the massacre of the Druid Legionnaires and the Roz'eli troops. Carefully peering through the window, Bradán and Tacitus could see, just below them, War Band warriors removing the dead and dumping the bodies unceremoniously onto several carts. Sand was being brought in to cover up the bloodstains.

The Senator removed a small black ball from beneath his armour. Bradán had seen it several times before. It was how Tacitus contacted Mailís or his master whenever he wished. He closed his eyes, preparing to concentrate on the magickal globe in his hand. The Druid Captain reached out and touched him lightly on his arm.

“Not yet, my Lord,” he whispered. “Let us see what intelligence we can glean first. Perhaps we will learn of the Jay'keb's route.”

“You want to stay?” Tacitus was completely bewildered. “Why? Our men are dead. There are only two of us now.”

“We still have a mission yet to accomplish,” Bradán stated flatly. “Are you not in charge of the General Agents? This is what you do.” Tacitus nodded in reluctant agreement, irked that it was not he who had thought about staying. Bradán allowed himself a slight smile as he watched the senator set the ball into hiding beneath his armour. “Find something to barricade the door. I will listen in for a while.” Seeing that the Roz'eli senator was about to remonstrate, Bradán quickly whispered, “With all due respect, my Lord, you are nothing more than an administrator within your role of the General Agents. This is what I do. This is what I have been trained to do.”

Reluctantly Tacitus nodded and quietly slipped away. Discreetly Bradán looked out of the storeroom's window, using the natural shadows of the chamber to hide his features. Below him he could see Rainier and Theirn standing tall and commanding. They were an oasis of calmness in the centre of a maelstrom. Their professionalism and respect from others clearly showed. Bradán watched as the War Band Commander called over Ysolt and two other War Band warriors.

“Take this wretch to the Chieftain's Hall and to Theirn's private room,” he ordered as he pointed to the unconscious Roz'eli officer lying close to his feet.

Ysolt nodded. The other two War Band warriors seized Urbanus roughly and dragged him away. Bradán hoped it was not the room they were hiding in that was the one they were planning to use. He doubted it. The way in which the War Band Commander had uttered the words “private room” made the Druid Captain think that maybe most townspeople did not even know of its existence. Until they too had fallen foul of their Chieftain or War Band Commander. Bradán continued to watch as Rainier took a few steps towards his son, Xavier. He had by now dismounted and was walking to his father. They gripped each other as warriors did, wrist-to-wrist, before hugging tightly.

“Well met, Xavier,” muttered Rainier.

“Well met, father,” responded his son.

Rainier released him from the embrace as he asked, “Now tell me why I had to kill all those men.”

“I did a bit of investigating as you had suggested, father” said Xavier quickly. “The ship that carried them over here from Ar'en, the
Widan
, had been sunk by a Roz'eli galley as they left Sea Lay'ben. There were no survivors and those bodies that had been washed ashore showed indications that they had been shot with arrows or stabbed repeatedly.”

“They were executed,” hissed Rainier. Bradán could almost feel the anger that radiated off him like an explosive force. “You are sure of this?”

Xavier nodded. “I saw one of the bodies myself. He was First Mate of the
Widan
. His name was Václac. I knew him. There is more, father...” Rainier nodded for him to continue. “The town of Kay'den is no more. All the people who lived there have all been murdered. Those who were not shot down were placed together in a building burned to death. We found a few survivors hiding out in the Great Wood. They claim that the Jay'keb family told them of a massacre at Ah'mos, a town in northern Ar'en.” Xavier drew in a shuddering breath. “I had heard and seen enough and raced straight back here. Wherever the family goes the Roz'eli destroy everything.”

“Ah'mos…” Rainier considered the name. “The Kel'akh hireling with that Roz'eli scum mentioned Ah'mos.”

“Where is Wyeth?” asked Xavier.

“Your older brother is fetching Oak Seer Ulrich,” answered Rainier. “Hopefully he will not be too much longer. I am going to Theirn's place to interrogate the Roz'eli officer. Post guards at the front and rear gates. Close this place off as quickly as possible. If any outsiders happen to come by tell them that we suspect a case of plague to be here. Also make sure that we are not disturbed in Theirn's Private Room and see that none try to watch us. Use only men that you are sure of. Your first choice should be Edgar. Trust in his guidance. He is a good man to have at your back when you get lost in the Great Wood.”

Bradán grunted at the words. “He is a good man to have at your back when you get lost in the Great Wood”. A spear tip of nostalgia touched his heart. It was a saying used throughout the whole of Kel'akh. Such simple words and yet they affected him so.

“As you know Roz'eli collaborators and their General Agents are everywhere. Speak to only those you have to.” Rainier suddenly clutched his son's broad shoulders. “Now listen to me carefully. If anything happens to me or this town you must link up with those over there.”

Bradán tilted his head ever so slightly in the direction of where Rainier nodded. He could see the Jay'keb family and their retinue helping the locals in lifting the bodies of the dead. The child himself stood next to the wall of the Travelers' Inn next to his mother. Both were being shielded by the large black man, now armed with a large double-headed axe.

Xavier frowned. “But why, father?” he asked, clearly bewildered. “They are strangers to us and our land. They cannot help us fight the Roz'eli. They could not even stop us from capturing them.”

“Listen to me, son,” snapped Rainier. “That child there is important. I have no idea why but he is of great enough consequence to send the commander of the General Agents after him.” The War Band Commander hesitated then and Bradán received the impression that he was about to say something before changing his mind. “You have heard of me speak of the Conclave and their Council many times. Those people there will lead you to them and to safety.”

A guffaw burst from Xavier's mouth before he could stop himself. Quickly he followed it up with a face of regret, at having slighted his patriarch and military leader. “I am sorry, father, but you cannot be serious. Do
not tell me that you still believe in the stories grandfather used to tell us? We used to be ridiculed during our schooling years when we were young for even repeating them.”

Rainier's face was set as he watched closely one of the men. Bradán could see that he was of average height with a slightly stocky build. His eyes were a deep brown and his skin was swarthy. Much like those of Thales's extraction. If the Druid Captain had to guess he would say that he was of E'del or from close by that province.

“All legends begin in truth,” he stated to his second-born. “Remember that, son. Now gather the village. Theirn and I wish to speak to them.”