Meuric (27 page)

XL

Meuric looked to Radha, his face containing a mixture of concern and curiosity. He understood what he was witnessing was nothing more than images from the past. The fact that he could almost see through the ethereal image that was the Kel'akh Knight Protector proved that. It was almost like watching an E'del theatrical show performing only for him. Except that this play surrounded him on all sides and completely filled his senses. On top of that, being connected with something that belonged to Radha allowed him to feel all that she had felt. Still crouching and holding a knife, he watched the scenes before him unfold.

As the former Knight Protector looked on he could see that Radha had just killed the two men; enemy combatants for the Dark Druid. Like him, she now dressed in the uniform of the Protectorate complete with a black full-faced helm of toughened leather. He could feel that she was now focusing upon her Gift of Distant Carry. Her plan had been to travel to where she had last seen him but instead she found her magick blocked. She cursed in a very unladylike way and Meuric found himself smiling.

Without any haste she unlocked the brooch at the base of her throat, which allowed her black cloak to fall to the ground. As if on cue, at the moment it touched the ground, she immediately leapt high and backwards through the air. Mid-flip she drew her two short swords from her back. With all the grace of a cat she landed gracefully on the balls of her feet instantly spinning and crouched down, forcing her back tight against a tree trunk. She held up her swords in a defensive posture.

Meuric could feel her reaching out with her magick in all directions. Immediately she sensed two more men, both cruel and evil, their souls as black as their armour. One man carried a crossbow; the second was a swordsman. It was the swordsman's mind she connected with first. Through his eyes she could see that he was creeping up to her from her right.

Meuric knew though that the real danger came from the crossbowman. He did not have to get close to kill. The effective range for a crossbow of their craftsmanship was one hundred and twenty standard cubits or one hundred and eighty feet in the Conclave's understanding of unit measurement. In a wooded area such as the one he crouched in there was no way a crossbowman would be so far away.

She now entered the mind of the archer. Through his eyes she could see that he only stood a distance away, directly to her front. In well-practiced fashion he raised his weapon, took careful aim and prepared to fire at the centre of her helmet's eye-slit. A heartbeat later the bolt was released.

Even though a woman, Radha possessed speed and strength several times that of a man. Meuric watched as she swatted the dart away with one of her swords. She rolled forward then leapt high, crashing through branches and somersaulting over the bowman's head. Before he had time to react, Radha spun. Her blackened blade cleanly took off her would-be assassin's head. Meuric could hear the wisp of the blade cut through the air as clearly as if he had been there.

Silently the second man lunged forward with his sword. His aim was to stab Radha in the centre of her back. She twirled. With the roll of her wrist, she turned away the attacker's charging sword. Immediately she plunged her second blade through his armour and deep into the man's lungs. He sagged with a grunt and fell dead. Easily Radha slid her blade clear. She sheathed one of her swords and quickly searched the bodies. Like Meuric, she found nothing of worth on them. Again these men wore olive green tunics underneath their black armour.

Scarcely breathing, she now crept closer towards her home. Behind her, still holding the female Knight Protector's dagger, Meuric followed. Carefully she moved forward, taking several slow steps, before stopping. She barely made a noise. She sank deeper into the shadow of a tree, then crouched remaining quite motionless. Her eyes carefully scanned the darkness all around her. Satisfied that there were no other attackers nearby, she rose. Steadily Radha continued forward repeating the same pattern several times. She was doing what Meuric had intended to do; what they were trained to do.

Check the perimeter. Ensure that no other parties were lying in wait. And when clear, move through the Veil Narration to discover who lay beyond.

Meuric could tell that an image of him had appeared in her mind. She had tried to appear casual when they had met but she was distracted by him now. Like him, the feelings she had pushed to one side had resurfaced. After their brief encounter she had allowed herself the small fantasy of the two of them rekindling
that relationship. Her feelings for Meuric ran just as intense as his for her. She just felt more comfortable acknowledging them.

The Daw'ra man now felt shame over his treatment of her.

But Radha did not approach her home. After clearing the perimeter she withdrew a short distance away, directly opposite the gateway to her home, and waited. She knew that he would be doing all he could to reach her after receiving her mystical message. Her plan was to wait for Meuric. Together they would hide for a time while watching over her home. Then they would move in. Meuric smiled. Reconnaissance first, then over-watch and finally assault.

Good little soldier.

There was something else to be gained by simply waiting. Sometimes the enemy would become impatient and lose heart. If they were then to move out, searching for Radha, it may allow her to pick them off one by one. Meuric released himself from the scene. Like a cat he crawled between the trees, moving as silently as possible. He came up behind where Radha hid and waited still. She had barely moved her position.

“Took your time,” she whispered without turning.

“Just here to return your dagger,” quipped Meuric. He reversed the blade and handed it to her. “See anything?”

Radha shook her head. “Nothing. I get no sense of any presence from inside the compound. There is a Barring Narration that is stopping me from travelling inside.” She stood and drew her swords. “Time to go and see who is waiting for us.”

Meuric nodded. Slipping his crossbow bolts into place on his thigh he folded the wings of the weapon and slipped it into its pouch on his opposite leg. He drew his gladii. They took a step forward. She turned suddenly in the direction of Meuric.

“Do you feel that?”

The Knight Protectors swayed as the world spun around them. Nausea overtook them. They found themselves in the centre of a room within Radha's homestead. The Kel'akh Knight Protector looked to her right.

“Ambush,” she yelled.

Instinctively Meuric looked to his right. Three warriors in olive green tunics and black armour stood with their crossbows raised, ready to fire. Both Knights rolled under the encroaching quarrels. They came up fast and charged. The three soldiers of the Dark Druid did likewise. With an animalistic cry, they raced at the Knight Protectors.

They did not get far. In an instant Radha swept round behind two of them, her swords plunged deep into their backs. The third warrior hesitated just for a moment at seeing his comrades' fall. Meuric was upon him then. He stabbed both his gladii deep into his enemy's ribs.

“Do you think that was all of them?” asked Radha.

Meuric did not respond. He pressed himself up against a wall of Radha's home. He indicated with a nod that the female Knight should join him. She did so quickly, taking up a position to his side. As Meuric looked towards the door Radha watched in the opposite direction.

“We need to clear your home,” remarked Meuric.

Radha nodded. Meuric led the way towards the door that opened into a second room. The female Knight kept close behind him. At the door he stopped and listened intently. No noises came from inside. Silently Meuric sheathed his two short swords. From his waist he drew his two long-bladed knives. He tested the door latch. It offered no resistance. He knelt and carefully opened the door, ever so slightly. He peered in. The room beyond was in complete darkness. He did not need his instincts to tell him that the enemy were in there.

And they were waiting for them.

As one they rushed the door and burst into the room with explosive energy. Behind him Radha slammed the door closed. It would not do to have their bodies silhouetted by the doorway. Blackness enveloped them totally.

“We have no need of the Barring Narration anymore,” murmured a voice from within the gloom.

A word of magick was whispered, spoken from somewhere to Meuric's front. A deep chill ran throughout his body. Although softly said, he had no doubt that the man who had uttered the word had a Kel'akh accent. A second word was muttered and Meuric's skin tingled as the energy from a narration filled the room.

Simultaneously all the candles within the cabin burst into flame. Meuric blinked furiously, attempting to adjust his eyes to the sudden light. He turned sharply to his left. He found Radha doing the same. She had moved several steps to one side.

Meuric caught his breath. At the opposite side of the main chamber sat a man in dark robes. His legs were crossed and a hood was pulled over his head. Meuric wondered how he could see out of the cowl. The Dark Druid swayed gently back and forth in a rocking chair. Meuric recognised the handiwork as that of Radha.

On either side of him stood two men, both slim of hip and broad shouldered. Like the others outside the cabin they were dressed in all-black armour, the exact duplicate of the Protectorate. The only difference was that their armour was metal. Both had the picture of a bird on their chest. Each of the men held a long dagger in one hand and a small buckler in the other. They stood ready to attack.

“Kill them,” ordered the Dark Druid.

In an instant the two men charged. Meuric heard Radha yell out as she charged the two attackers. The former Knight dropped his long daggers. From his vambraces he launched his two throwing knives. The knives flew true, aimed directly at the centre of the Dark Druid's hood. His two hands shot up and he caught the hilts mid-flight. Meuric was surprised to find that one of his hands held a golden glove.

“This is not how Kel'akh warriors should face death,” muttered the dark mage. He threw both knives down hard onto the ground with disdain.

Meuric lifted his two long-bladed knives. He could feel the darkness of Deo that had plagued his whole life begin to descend upon him. By a force of will he held it back. He wanted to remember defeating the man who had murdered all those he loved. The clash of metal resonated in his ears but he dared not turn his head, even for a moment. The Dark Druid had now drawn both his long knives. Like his men, they were an exact replica of the Protectorate's own, complete with blackened blades, hilts and pommels. It was Meuric who attacked first.

He stabbed high aiming for the Dark Druid's neck. He followed swiftly with a slicing motion to his opponent's knee. Both strikes the mage easily blocked. He took Meuric's second blade up and over. The former Knight Protector twisted with the move and swung around. He drove his elbow hard into the Druid's back. The
mage cried out but instead of arching his back in reflex he rolled forward and came up on his feet fast, facing Meuric.

The former Knight Protector flashed a cold smile. “We are not in Ah'mos now.”

This time it was the Dark Druid who attacked. Meuric allowed himself the slightest of glances at Radha just before their blades met. At that time the female Knight had wounded only one of the men she faced. But still he fought on. These were obviously the elite of the Dark Druid's military force. Meuric could feel magick seep from the darkly clad warriors. That they were still alive gave testament to the skills of the enemy they faced.

The Dark Druid attacked hard and fast. His movement was completely fluid, never staying in one position for too long, constantly moving. Each time Meuric was able to parry, block and counter-strike. Neither man gained any ground. He is holding back, realised Meuric. He was much more aggressive in Ah'mos. He was completely confused and frustrated by this turn of events. But that would not stop him from killing the mage.

The two men lurched forward and their blades met yet again. Immediately Meuric threw forward with a vicious head-butt. The Dark Druid staggered back. The Daw'ra man leapt into the air and spun. His leg struck out catching the mage squarely in the centre of his body. The Dark Druid stumbled back through the air. He slammed hard against the far wall.

Meuric took the moment to see to Radha. One of the men she faced lay face down, a pool of blood growing about his torso. The female Knight looked to the second man. In the blink of an eye she was behind him. She drove her sword through his back until the blade protruded from his chest. With a gurgle he died, blood spilling from his mouth.

He looked coldly at the Dark Druid. “You should not have removed your Barring Narration from within your Veil.”

The Dark Druid shakily stood. He extended his sword arms. He looked at Meuric first, then Radha. He adjusted his stance in preparation to attack. He abruptly stopped and looked to the doorway of the cabin. He lowered his swords.

“It would seem that your guardians have just arrived,” said the mage from the folds of his hood. “Another time, Knights of the Protectorate.”

Speaking a word of magick, “Disepie,” the Dark Druid vanished

XLI

Bradán froze fearing that any movement, fast or slow, would give away his position. He allowed his eyes only to follow the leaders of Rabi'a, dipping his head just as they disappeared into the building below through the main doorway of Theirn's home. He caught two blurs of movement of sweeping arms from men below and the Druid Captain surmised that they were guards positioned at the entrance saluting their leaders. A door creaked open and was slammed shut. Only then did Bradán allow himself to relax. He then smiled to himself as a satirical thought occurred. He turned to the senator.

“Why are you grinning like an idiot?” asked Tacitus.

The face dropped and Bradán's eyes grew cold. “I was just thinking to myself that we were safe now and yet the leaders of our enemy stand just below us.” He moved quietly for the door.

“Where are you going now?” The senator's whisper was harsh.

“To look for Urbanus,” he answered stonily. “Rescue him if I can, kill him if I must. We cannot afford for him to talk.”

Tacitus took a step towards him. “What makes you think that I will not simply use the magick of the orb and desert you?”

Bradán looked down at the senator who was a head shorter than he was. He was aware of the strength that the Roz'eli man possessed but refused to be cowered by it. “You need to know as much as I do if Urbanus speaks of our plans. But you should know also that if you leave and if I survive, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

Now it was the senator's turn to smile and Bradán could almost visualise a serpent's tongue hissing through his teeth. “Well said, warrior. I am beginning to see why the Dark Druid favours you. If only all his men were like you. I will wait here for your return but for one hour only. After that I will use the orb if I have not already been discovered.”

Bradán nodded and moved towards the door. He was beginning to feel a grudging respect for the senator and he was not sure if he liked that or not. He opened the egress made of beech ever so slightly. The corridor
ahead of him was empty of any enemy. Carefully he opened it a little more and examined the area. Both ends of the hallway were clear and no sounds touched his ears.

That in itself was a little strange, he considered. The building was not overly large and any interrogations would surely have reverberated along the passageways, or at least the muffled sounds of talking men would be audible. Bradán looked back, nodded once to the senator and slipped out past the door. He drew two long-bladed daggers. His hands began to sweat and he forced himself to calm down by taking in a few deep breaths.

He moved towards the staircase. Surely he would have heard anyone who had moved upstairs so wherever Urbanus had been taken must be somewhere below. He kept tight to the walls, taking small slow footsteps as he moved forward, trying to make as little sound as possible. At the top of the stairs he stopped. He peered down and waited. No one could be seen and no sounds of movement or voices could be heard. It was almost as if the building was empty.

Cautiously he moved downstairs, testing each and every step before placing the whole of his weight on it, his body pressed lightly against the wall as he crept. He reached the bottom of the stairwell and stopped. A familiar sensation now reached out to him. It was one that he had felt now many times over especially when in the presence of the Dark Druid. He now reasoned that he had developed a certain amount of sensitivity to it.

It was Magick.

He examined the corner, watchful of the wall to his left. It led to a hallway that would have taken him directly to Theirn's private chamber, the one where he had stood earlier. It was the man-sized mirror, the one that had rested on the wall opposite the Chieftain's room, which now caught his attention. Gone was the reflection of the glass and in its place rested a darkness that was impenetrable by the eye. Bradán looked about suddenly realising that he had spent just a little too long gazing at the blackened object.

He was very much aware of how close he was to the main doorway of Theirn's home and that two armed guards stood just outside. Bradán took some slow steps towards the mirror. Keeping one eye on the guards outside, he touched the centre of the glass lightly with the point of his dagger. It rippled like water, sending ever-increasing tiny waves to the edges of the elaborate frame.

He knew without doubt that this was Kel'akh magick. Over the years he had seen the handiwork of the metalworkers of Wardens Keep, where the objects they created were imbued with power. The Kel'akh people called them Men of Art. Bards fell under the same heading.

The Druid Captain could only hope that he was in no immediate danger. The magick of the metalworkers was usually only for the protection of the land, its people and gaining intelligence. They were not known for their destructive power. Bradán slowly placed the dagger deeper into the mirror. It sank in with no resistance and disappeared unseen into the gloom beyond. He waited for a few heartbeats before retracting the blade. There was no damage. Next he placed his hand into the darkness and again waited for a few moments as ripples moved out from his arm.

A sensation like a thousand tiny needles lightly flooded his hand as it touched the dark water and sank in. He froze momentarily, but quickly relaxed as he realised that there was no real pain. Almost immediately the feeling left his fingertips and his hand to travel up his arm to the point where it had sank into the darkness; but it went no further. Easily he slid back his hand and examined it. There was no pain, or damage to his body or his clothing.

Recognising that there was only one thing that he could do, Bradán held his breath, and stepped into the mirror.