Meuric (9 page)

“Did you get a chance to look at the child's aura?” asked Zuleika. Both David and Meuric shook their heads. “He eclipses those of his parents.” She left that statement hanging.

“How can that be?” asked David frowning. “He is newly born. Even if he was a child of magick that would mean that the child is more powerful than his parents!”

“I know,” responded the Knight Lieutenant. “Who knows where his potential may reach when an adult?”

Meuric looked sharply to her. There was a dangerous tone in her voice. “Careful, Zuleika, we are still only talking about a child here.” The battle of Ay'den flashed in his mind and a mad dash up a hillside.

“So the question remains why are you here, Meuric?” queried the Pan'iz woman icily. “Obviously the Council did not send you.”

“It was a man by the name of Ladra,” answered Meuric honestly, ignoring her tone. “He attempted to look like a Kel'akh man though he was not one. He opened a Doorway and sent me through, telling me in no uncertain terms that I was doing this. He briefed me fully about the Royal Family, though I already knew of the legend. He did not tell me about the child except to describe him as a special being, the son of the true line from two Jay'keb kings.”

“Ladra,” echoed Zuleika. She shook her head, her face a picture of confusion. “We have no one on the Council or the Conclave by the name of Ladra.” She looked at Meuric. “Nor do the Oak Seers traditionally have the power to open doorways.” Zuleika paused for a moment as if listening to something far away. “The Council
has not heard of him and is a little concerned that another new force has come into play. They want to know what your impressions were of the man.”

“A little intense and rude,” he smiled. Zuleika stared at him. She did not mirror his grin so he hastily continued. “But not evil. In fact he seemed quite concerned for the safety of the Royal Family, but not for his own ends. There is one more thing. Just before I met him I was in the town of Ay'den, in a vision belonging to a Fari prēost named Honora. In that vision of the future the man Ladra made an appearance. Worryingly, he was able to see me.”

“How is that even possible?” questioned David, plainly disbelieving.

“I do not know,” answered Meuric. “But…”

Meuric froze as it struck them. A sensation of unnerving dread hit them unexpectedly like a physical force. The presence came from the town. Without a word the three Knight Protectors donned their helms and kept low, drawing their swords.

Meuric scanned the area slowly, taking in everything that he could. He knew that the Knight Protectors were doing the same. He looked to the Troopers on the neighbouring rooftops. If they had suffered from the force of dread how would those men and women take it? The Knight Protectors were protected from such strong emotions. He was pleased to see that they were standing their ground, crouched low just like them, weapons at the ready.

Several houses were now in flames around the town. Moans of the dying or injured floated through the air from all directions. Screams from those being murdered could just about be heard now from the far end of Ber'ek. Their noises disturbed him, bothered all of them, but there was nothing that he could do for them.

The cries abruptly changed. No longer were they about the dead, the dying and the injured. Now they were about a terror that seemed to strike to the very soul. Straightaway they could see Haran's militiamen fleeing in all directions along with surviving townsfolk clutching their families, their fight all but forgotten. Those who were injured, too wounded to walk or run, could only crawl.

Suddenly they spotted him. A lone dark figure sitting comfortable on top of a tall black horse, casually making his way through the meandering streets at an easy pace. Even from some distance away Meuric could
feel the magick that surrounded him as if it was almost tangible. The newcomer looked neither left nor right, seemingly totally focused on making his way towards them. The Ber'ek people who could not run just cowered beneath him. Meuric could see him bypass the dead victims of King Haran's men as if they were not even there.

The Kel'akh man noticed one lone militiaman stand up on a nearby rooftop overlooking the dark rider. Even from his distance he could see the soldier shaking as he drew back on his bow, the weapon aimed directly at the stranger. Just when he was sure the soldier must fire, the man collapsed, his courage and strength all but spent.

That was when Meuric felt a cold numbness seep into his bones and sinew and he began to shiver uncontrollably. He looked over to David and watched how he opened and clenched his fists. Zuleika had dropped her swords by this stage and gripped the lip of the rooftop's edge as if to hold herself up. The intensity began to deepen the closer the stranger came.

Meuric understood immediately what it was of course. The Narration of Fear was designed to evoke extreme anxiety, dread, panic and terror in the recipient of the hex. It was a useful weapon when in battle. However, this mage exuded it from a distance and all around him. Not only that but he and his fellow Knight Protectors were also succumbing to that form of narration when such a thing should not have been possible. Sensitive to magick, Meuric reached out tentatively feeling his way forward. The power he felt was immense, much more formidable than any he had met with in the Conclave or the Council.

He looked left and right and saw the soldiers' suffering was greater than theirs, though the two magi troopers were coping a lot better than the remainder of the warriors. A few of the soldiers had collapsed. Meuric could feel magick flow around the mage to the far right as he built up his energy. He could feel the force suddenly erupt from the young mage in a fury. It took the form of a steady stream of blinding white light aimed directly at the stranger, forcing away the dread and fear. The soldiers gathered themselves together and shakily raised their weapons. The survivors of Ber'ek ceased their wailing.

“On your feet, men,” yelled Zuleika. “We have enemy to the front.”

“That should not have worked,” commented Meuric. “The power of your mage in no way matches him down there.”

“I know,” agreed Zuleika. The muffled voice from within her helm could not hide her worried tone.

Meuric looked more closely at the figure now. He wore a similarly coloured robe to that of his horse, with a cowl drawn low over his head making it impossible to make out his features. He could just about recognise the shapes of two black sword grips that jutted up above his shoulders. Suddenly the rider drew in the reins and his horse came to a complete stop just out of bowshot. As if to acknowledge the truth of this one of the archers drew up his longbow, then fired. He cursed in frustration. The man in black tilted his head upwards.

“He is looking directly at us,” stated David. “How can he even see us?”

Somehow Meuric knew that the man beneath his hood smiled. “I think I know him.”

Zuleika looked at him sharply. In silence all the warriors watched how the rider outstretched one of his arms, his palm faced upwards. It seemed to the Daw'ra man that the dark mage's hand seemed to be made of gold and had a metallic sheen to it. Small flames erupted from his fingertips, forming into the shape of a ball on his palm.

Zuleika said, “We should attack.”

She was just about to move when Meuric stopped her. “Your mission is to gather intelligence. Not to die foolhardily.”

“We are no match for him,” stated David in unison with the Kel'akh warrior. “We have to get out of here now! We have to make our way to the family. They are the priority!”

Meuric could feel the power the man radiate out. Before Zuleika could issue her orders to her men the ball of fire shot forward from the dark mage's hand. Almost faster than the eye could follow it flew directly into the building on the furthest left used as an observation post by three of the Conclave's troopers. The building exploded in all directions, the debris landing all around them. As one, everyone threw themselves onto the floor for cover. Meuric did not need to look at the demolished building to know that the men there had no chance of surviving.

Meuric shook his head and got to his knees. Remembering Zuleika's question about the baby's aura the hireling reached out with his magick. He saw the energy surrounding the dark mage. He balked and glanced at his two fellow Knights. “We need to get out of here now!”

The former Knight Protector looked to the two men that were between them and the rooftop that had been hit. They must have had the same idea already. One soldier was lifting a dead or unconscious comrade toward the staircase off the roof.

“Retreat,” yelled Zuleika. Several times she swung her hand in a small circle above her head before pointing in the direction that they had come from. She turned and led the way to the stairwell.

Meuric could see her troopers either wave their acknowledgement or nod. The Kel'akh man of course recognised the signal. If separated meet at designated rendezvous point. Immediately the soldiers began to run.

Another ball of fire shot through the air, this time aimed at the very right flank. The Conclave mage was ready this time and with a wave of his hand the ball changed its trajectory and crashed into a neighbouring building, obliterating it.

David looked at the Squadron mage, who immediately set after his fellow men-at-arms. “He should not have had the power to do that.”

“No,” agreed Meuric stopping next to his old friend. He looked at Zuleika, already reconnecting with some of her men and giving them orders.

Almost in a panic, held together only by their training, the Conclave's soldiers grabbed their horses and leapt upon them. There were three empty mounts now and it was one of these that Meuric grabbed. The unconscious trooper had now come round sufficiently and was helped upon his horse. Without a word they all galloped off as the building where the three Knights had stood exploded behind them. Debris rained down all about them.

“What did you see?” wondered David, “when you looked at him? I know that you did.” He glanced back furtively and saw the building they had just leapt from in flames, all but destroyed as it collapsed in upon itself.

“I saw a man with an aura larger than any Council member but surrounded with a blackness so dark that I think the gods themselves would turn their backs on him.”

XI

Meuric took to the rear, allowing all of the horsemen to race on ahead as he slowed his horse slightly. From his position he watched David and Zuleika at the head of the arrow formation, ploughing on. He was, after all, the outsider here. These were no longer his people, nor his men. His own mission, the one that he had been charged with, was to keep the Royal Family safe and, though they had been handed over to the responsibility of the Council of Eight, he continued to feel duty-bound to see the mission through, especially now in light of this new threat.

The Hand of Deo is what they called him. To stand against him was to court death, was another well-used adage when describing Meuric. Yet even he wondered what he could do against such a being as the mage in black.

Frequently he glanced back, scanning for any signs of pursuit hurtling out of the burning town after them, but found none. He looked to the sky wondering if a fireball would happen to streak through the sky towards them, but again there was nothing. He reached out with his magick towards Ber'ek but felt no presence there. No one spoke. After all everyone, except for Meuric, knew where they were heading. Lost in thought he suddenly he found himself accompanied by three other riders.

“Knight Protector David sent us back here,” said one of the men.

“To protect me or to hold me?” asked Meuric, a wry smile beneath his helm.

The man chuckled. “Pick one.”

He spoke with an E'del accent and Meuric looked at his two male companions.

“Were you the men that held our right flank?” asked the Kel'akh warrior.

“We are,” admitted the man who had already spoken. “My name is Iacchus. This is Kaan, and Nathan.” He indicated each man respectively.

Meuric looked at each of the three men, noting the engraved and painted brown tower on their body armour over each of their hearts. It marked them as members of the Brown Tower Company. While Iacchus had
a picture of a sword weaved into his sleeve and Kaan had a bow, on the man named Nathan he found the depiction of a staff.

“You are the mage who destroyed the dark mage's narration and deflected the fireball,” stated Meuric. Nathan nodded but said nothing. “You should not have the power to do that.”

“He is one of the strongest among us,” interjected Kaan immediately, defending his comrade.

“You misunderstand me,” offered Meuric turning on his saddle to face the warrior. “Your man Nathan here is simply not powerful enough to do what he did. The mage that we faced was immeasurably stronger.”

“Then why did it work?” asked Nathan.

Meuric looked at him. “Why indeed?” Not only did his voice mark the mage as someone who was a native of Kel'akh but he also sounded young. “I do not know,” he admitted. A strained silence fell between them so Meuric decided to change tack. “Where do we go?”

“Two leagues east and north of the town,” answered Iacchus. “It was where we set up our temporary camp for this operation.” He laughed. “It is also where you left your horse.”

“What is your fall back plan if it is compromised?” questioned Meuric.

“Simeon of Jay'keb,” responded Iacchus. “It is also our second rendezvous point should we find that the first one was unattainable.” He looked to the north. “The trees ahead are where we will meet the others.”

As they approached Meuric could see at least two of the Conclave's men standing guard amidst a large grove of E'del strawberry trees. He of course knew this place. As Iacchus had mentioned, it was where he had left his horse tethered before moving onto the town on foot thinking it made him a smaller target without the animal. As they passed the trees and moved deeper into a clearing Meuric could see some of the men tending to the horses. As one the four warriors dismounted and a fellow trooper took away their horses.

Together they removed their full-face helms. Meuric suspected that, like him, they were keen to have the air touch their faces and dry away the sweat. He looked at each of his three companions. The soldiers Iacchus and Kaan were exactly how he had pictured them; lean men with hard eyes. Both possessed the swarthy skin of their home countries. It was Nathan who surprised him.

He seemed to be no older than having seen seventeen Name Days though in truth he had to have seen at least twenty to serve as a trooper. The three years prior to that would have been time spent in training in combat, magick and in education. A gold and red tattoo marked the right-hand side of his face just above his eyebrow, confirming his Kel'akh heritage. It was not hard to understand why the other two troopers would be so protective over him. He was almost young enough to be their son.

Spotting Zuleika as she sat to one side of the clearing with two of her men, the former Knight Protector made his way over to her. One nodded his thanks as he stood, saluted and ambled away. The hireling watched as she placed her hands on the head of the second man. He looked to be of the Ba'teest province; northern lands conquered by Roz'eli Empire and distant cousins to the Kel'akh Nation. There was blood running down the side of his face. Obviously he was the man who had been knocked unconscious by the falling debris earlier. He watched in silence as she closed her eyes momentarily, her elegant brows furrowed. She opened her eyes and withdrew her hands. The wound had now gone and the blood that was on his face had all dried. The warrior stood, gave his thanks and moved away after offering up a crisp salute.

“You possess the Gift of Healing,” stated Meuric in an attempt to connect with Zuleika. “That will always be useful in our line of work.”

She stared unfalteringly at the Daw'ra man. “Our line of work is completely different. I do not sell my sword. The family is coming with us but you are not. This is not a discussion. They will be completely safe in Wardens Keep. They are still here if you wish to say goodbye.”

She swung her arm and from the shadows came the Royal Family led by David and surrounded by a unit of five men.

“Are you all well?” Meuric asked Obadiah.

“We are,” responded the would-be king, smiling. He grabbed Meuric's wrist only for a moment before releasing it. “Actually for the first time in many years we feel safe. I may not have been so warm in our earlier encounter but I want to thank you for the lives of my family. If we are ever to take back our kingdom from the Roz'eli you will always be welcome at our court.” Meuric bowed and thanked Obadiah. The would-be king turned to Zuleika. “Your men are very gracious, Knight Lieutenant.”

The female Knight Protector stood and offered a stiff bow. “Thank you, sire,” she muttered hurriedly. “But now we must hurry.” She turned to one of her soldiers. “First Servant Laban, we need to get moving now.” There was no hiding her note of urgency.

“Is there a problem?” asked Obadiah.

“We came across a mage with immense power who also seemed to be looking for you,” answered David. “We feel it that it would be best that we make haste.”

As they spoke First Servant Laban sprang into action quietly but hurriedly issuing orders. Men grabbed their horses and mounted. Sentries were pulled in and a five-man team was sent ahead to scout. A second unit, under the command of Iacchus, was ordered to act as a rearguard. Meuric looked on approvingly. Their movements were quick but there was no sense of panic. Every man knew his job and simply got on with it.

“Do you go with them to Jay'keb?” Meuric asked David.

“I do,” he replied. He stepped forward and grabbed the Kel'akh man's wrist. “Well met, Meuric. Hopefully next time it will not be so long and we will have more time to talk.”

The Kel'akh man nodded. “Be safe, David.”

Meuric stepped to one side as the column of men rode out. In the centre rode the Royal Family and to Obadiah and Jemima he nodded as they passed him. The rearguard came last. Kaan approached him last holding the reins of his horse.

“A good animal,” remarked the warrior. “Take good care of him.”

Meuric nodded and flashed a brief smile but he could not take his eyes off Nathan. How could he have possibly done what he did? He waited until they had disappeared into the darkness before he climbed upon his horse. He turned to find Ladra standing, staring at him expectantly.

“There are not many who can get that close without me sensing them,” commented Meuric, trying to hide his surprise.

“You will find that there is a lot I can do,” retorted Ladra. “Like send you home.”

Meuric frowned. “Your accent… I have been all around Terit're a few times over. I cannot place your voice.”

“You would have to go very far indeed to find someone the same as me, warrior,” said Ladra, an edge of sadness to his voice.

“How did you know I would be here?” asked Meuric.

Ladra shook his head. “I followed you while keeping a discreet distance.”

“So I was bait?”

Ladra laughed. “Partly, but the safe keeping of the boy was very important. It was completely fortuitous that the troopers turned up when they did.”

“And what of the mage?” asked Meuric. “His power was phenomenal. Who was he?”

“Do you not know?” asked Ladra, a little surprised. Meuric shook his head. “He is the Dark Druid. He is the man who murdered your family.”

Meuric swung his horse round in the direction of the town. With a yell of rage he spurned the animal forward. He was only vaguely aware of Ladra shouting after him.

“If you face him now he will kill you.”

Meuric did not care. With his mind consumed with revenge he drove his horse on even harder. He did not see Ladra wave his hand through the air but he did feel a wave of nausea envelop him. Meuric pulled hard on the reins. No longer was he outside Ber'ek at night but back on the main trail to the town of Ay'den, western Kel'akh. Judging by the sunlight it was almost sundown.

Meuric cursed the man of magick but he also silently thanked him. No longer did he wonder if the man who had butchered his family and villagers had ever received justice. Now he knew that he was still alive and now he knew who he was and he knew where to find him.

He would have his vengeance.