Meuric (29 page)

Faeder looked down. Free of his human form Ladra now looked small and almost insignificant. Then he felt the magick the mortal radiated.

“They will,” responded the King of the Gods. His powerful voice resounded across the hall with such great effect that Ladra staggered slightly. “They will both do it because they know that it is their duty to protect the world. They must fight for us or die trying. Go now, Ladra. Keep a watchful eye on Meuric and Abram.”

Currently, the war was only beginning and was contained within the Realm of Mortals. There was no way of saying when the fight would spread to their realm. Aeons ago, Faeder had started a war in the Otherworld that had overthrown his own father from his throne. It had not been the first war there. It would not be the last. As soon as Malitia had grown strong enough, it would be only a matter of time before the Dark Ones attacked them openly in support of her in the multitude of realms that only the gods can exist in.

For the moment all Faeder could do was wait and watch.

XLIII

Once through the mirror Bradán stepped to the side and crouched down onto one knee.

The sidestep was just in case someone had followed him from the other side of the magickal door, giving him a better chance of ambushing them if they had. Getting down onto one knee made him a smaller target and if perhaps someone was to look up in his general direction, they might just miss him. Wherever he was though, it had only taken a fraction of a heartbeat to get there.

Rough steps spiralled downward ahead of him into the dimness below. He could not see where or how far down they went. He almost gagged under the heaviness of the air, but smothered the welling pressure for fear that someone might hear him cough.

He looked left and right, up and down. Roots penetrated the walls and ceiling from every angle and plants and weeds grew out of the wall and floor though most of these seemed dead as there was no natural light for them to thrive on. Instead, fist-sized orbs of artificial luminosity lined the walls just above head height and several footsteps apart.

Bradán waited. No noises touched his ears and he thanked the gods for that. For not only was he safe and well but he also remained unseen. He moved off at a slow but steady pace, testing each step as he reached it. The steps led to a single corridor again made of the same rough-cut stone as the stairwell. He followed it slowly. He had already decided that at the first sign of trouble he would charge into it and hopefully have the element of surprise on his side. Slowly his vision became accustomed to the murkiness of the place. He knew that it would be some time before his eyes became fully adjusted.

“Anything?”

Bradán froze, startled at the sound of the single word. The voice was so clear that, not only did the Druid Captain know that it was Rainier who had spoken, but he sounded so very close. He hurried on silently, pausing at the end of the wall where a second stairwell continued downwards in a circular fashion. He knelt and looked down.

A large well-lit cavern, in a rough circle, lay a short distance below. In the centre sat a coarse-cut and basic chair, purposely designed so that the occupier would not become comfortable sitting on it. On this occasion the occupier was Urbanus. His head was bowed but Bradán could see blood running down the front of his opened shirt and bare chest. Ropes bound his wrists and ankles to the chair. Surrounding the Roz'eli Centurion stood Theirn, Rainier and Ysolt and another two warriors of the War Band troop. All their faces were unreadable.

Rainier was looking to his Lieutenant who was massaging her sore knuckles. Ysolt shook her head slowly. “Not a sound.”

Rainier nodded and undid the front of his leggings and immediately pulled out his penis. It took only a moment before urine began splashing all over Urbanus's face. The Roz'eli officer spluttered and coughed as he regained consciousness, turning his head away as much as possible.

Rainier smiled. “Awake? Good.” He did up the front of his leggings and pulled out his knife. In one deft sweep he sliced off one of Urbanus's ears. The Centurion gritted his teeth but refused to cry out. “I need to know who gave you your orders. Who do you truly work for?”

“You will get nothing from me,” spat Urbanus. “You are all dead men, as is everyone in this damned shit hole!”

Bradán looked on, not sure what to feel. He hated the Roz'eli as much any of the Kel'akh people. Yet he felt compelled to respect the Roz'eli officer. The Druid Captain was not sure if even he could have taken the same amount of torment as he obviously had. He prayed that he would never have to find out.

Rainier smiled but there was no humour in it. “Another good reason to torture you all the more then,” he remarked drily. He turned to Ysolt. “Have someone fetch sears, a vat of vinegar and pitch. Begin to cut off his fingers one by one and then his toes. After each wound is made, place it into the vinegar before applying pitch to stop the bleeding. I am going to see the boy. It is he that this is all about.” He looked to Urbanus. “Let me know what he says… if anything.”

Bradán turned and immediately moved off as fast as he dared, knowing that the War Band Commander was closing in behind. Rainier had no need to rush, nor worry about creating any noise. The darkness of the
mirror approached quickly and Druid Captain burst through it, barely taking even a moment's pause. He scanned left and right for a heartbeat only. He saw none of the Rabi'a townsfolk and the two guards were still looking to the outside.

Immediately he raced up the stairs to his left and opened the door to the room where he and Tacitus had been hiding. Quietly he closed it behind him. Only then did he sheath his knives. The senator stepped out from behind a couple of boxes.

“Well…?” asked Tacitus.

“He is being held in a room under the house currently being tortured,” answered Bradán in a hurried fashion. “There is no way of getting close to him. If I had a bow maybe I could have taken him out. So far he is bearing the suffering well though.”

Tacitus looked smug. “He is a Roz'eli officer. He will not talk.”

Bradán waved the comment away. “Everyone talks but whether he tells them the truth is a different matter.” The noise of a door slamming reached them. The Druid Captain made his way discreetly to the window and looked out. “It is Rainier,” he reported, seeing the War Band Commander cross the village. “He's going to see the boy.” He immediately made for the door and drew a dagger.

“Where are you going now?” Tacitus demanded to know.

Bradán stopped. Opening the door the slightest amount he spied out. “We need to know what Rainier and the boy say to each other.”

“You will never make it,” said the senator. “Even if they did not know who you were you are still a stranger in this place. Take this.”

Bradán gently closed the door and turned. He watched Tacitus produce the black sphere, about the size of a palm, from beneath his leather armour. “This will help you travel by magickal means anywhere as long as you know where you are going. All you need is a definitive picture in your head and you will journey there instantly.”

“My thanks.” Shakily he took the orb. He had never used magick before. “Can this be used to get us away?”

Tacitus shook his head. “Yes but only for a short distance and only one of us. It can be used as a communication device for a greater distance though. I was going to use it to contact the Dark Druid or Mailís to spirit us both away from here.”

Bradán smiled at that, recognising the obvious lie. Looking out of the window, the Druid Captain watched Rainier make his way over the dried blood of the dead, towards the Travelers' Inn. Bradán concentrated. He was preparing an image of the room he wanted to travel to when he suddenly saw the War Band Commander's swift steps become more hesitant, then come to a stop. He was looking at one of the homesteads to the east as if drawn there. It was then that he realised that the orb in his hand had begun to heat up slightly. He turned to the senator and explained what he was feeling.

Tacitus nodded. “All things in magick have a connection. The orb recognises when enchantment is being used nearby.”

Cursing at the new element, Bradán once again spied on Rainier. He watched how the War Band Commander shook his head before continuing on his way. The Druid Captain sheathed his dagger. Having already been in that building on the previous day he knew exactly where he wanted to go.

Focusing on himself within a particular room in the Travelers' Inn, he vanished.

XLIV

Meuric took a few steps forward, staring at the spot where Faeder and Ladra had just vanished. He grunted, not too sure exactly what to say. He looked to Radha. She seemed equally at a loss. His head was buzzing. There were so many things to consider. So many things were now banding together. The chance for revenge for the murder of friends and family now lay open to him. It would be an end to his own personal quest, assuming that he was to survive the coming days. But after that, then what? Return to his role as a Knight Protector? Kel'akh already had its protector.

Radha said, “We need to gather supplies and then go.”

Unhurriedly Meuric turned to face her. “Are we not even going to talk about this?”

“No,” answered Radha. She turned and made a move for her cabin. “We both already know that you are going to do it.”

“I do not work for the Council anymore,” said Meuric stubbornly. He searched for a determination that he no longer truly felt. Radha stopped and turned to face him. She was listening now. “I left that life a long time ago. And you need to consider the Religious Conviction. If they find out that you have left Kel'akh, at the very least you may hope that they only strip you of your Gifts. Under their charter they have the right to execute you.”

“You heard Faeder. We are being hunted. After enough of us are dead it is only a matter of time before Wardens Keep is attacked. An evil goddess controls a man with the same power as a being that the gods pray to. I would think that the Religious Conviction is the least of our worries right now.” At that Radha allowed a chuckle to slip out. But there was no humour in it. She shook her head. “You still do not get it, do you? You never left the Protectorate, Meuric. Do you honestly think that when you left us the Council would have allowed you to retain your Gifts?”

Meuric shifted uncomfortably. He began to feel foolish and naïve. “At the start I questioned it. But it has been so long now that I have simply believed that they could not rid me of my Gifts. I had even considered that
they had allowed me to keep my Gifts to help me find the people behind the attack at Gla'es maybe with the hope that I would return to the Protectorate afterwards.”

“No, Meuric, you were an experiment,” explained Radha. “You were nothing more than that to them. When you left, some of the Council members argued for the need of a Knight Protector to be free from his usual trappings. He needed to be able to travel to the various lands to support a static Knight Protector if more than one thing was going on, or whenever the mission was deemed too big or important for one man and the Troopers were simply not enough. I believe that it was your old friend the Lord Oak Seer Paden that had pioneered the idea.”

“The Religious Conviction would not have allowed that,” declared Meuric unnecessarily.

He had never heard his old friend discuss any such thing with him. But he had become a Conclave's Council member by the end of his life. He did not have to tell him anything at all if he so wished. The thought that the man who had raised him had kept secrets from him annoyed the former Knight Protector..

“The Council was split on the idea,” continued Radha. “But after the death of Paden at Gla'es I suppose a few of them had second thoughts. Maybe it was simply the thought of losing one of their own. Maybe it was to honour his memory. Who would know with them? Anyway, the motion was passed and when you refused to come back it was seen as a chance to fulfil that desire. It would seem that you did not disappoint. No matter how far you went, how despondent you became, you still held true to the values and laws of the Protectorate.”

He looked at Radha dumbfounded. She stared at him expectantly, her eyebrows arched and raised.

“That was how the Age of Durance started” considered Meuric. “Paden should have known better.”

Radha nodded. “I have heard others say the exact same thing but now is not the time to discuss the matter.” She turned and continued moving to her cabin. “I need to know if you are with me, Meuric.”

The former Knight watched her walk away, a small part of him relishing the swaying of her hips. How could he say no? It was the only way to gain justice for the destruction of his people and to save what remaining friends he had left. There was only one possible answer that he could give. Yes.

“Good,” Radha called back. “Gather some supplies from that outhouse on the right. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

Meuric smiled and shook his head in feigned submission. He so hated her Gift of Distant Perception. “Wait,” he called after her. “Have you ever been to Rabi'a?” She shook her head. “I have. It is down by Sea Lay'ben. It would take us several days to get there by boat. Over land would take longer still. And that would still mean avoiding Roz'eli patrols. By the time we get there the boy may very well be gone.”

“That will be too long,” remarked a new voice. “I can get you there much sooner.” The two Knights turned at the new presence. Ladra stood before them. His eyes seemed to linger on Meuric just that little bit longer, as if deciding on something. “I will open a Doorway Narration as soon as the two of you are ready.”

“Why would you do this?” asked the Daw'ra man suspiciously.

“Time is against us,” explained Radha. “As the dark forces against us step up their momentum we must do the same to counterbalance that.”

Radha seemed openly relieved. “My thanks, mage.” She looked to Meuric. “The Link may be gone but I can still use my Gift to connect with the Knight Captain as long as there is no Barring Narration preventing me. Tell him to expect our arrival.” She frowned.

“What is it?” asked Meuric.

“I connected briefly to Petros there,” she answered. “I saw a Roz'eli firing squad and what looked like a Kel'akh War Band attacking them. He has the boy.” She looked to Meuric and Ladra. “We had best hurry.”

“Is Petros in danger?”

Radha's frown deepened. “He can feel the presence of something there. It is dark and powerful, more than he has ever experienced before.”

“I was afraid of that,” warned Ladra. “Mailís is there.”