Valley of the Ancients: Book Three of the Restoration Series (29 page)

Myrus opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut immediately as another person spoke from the door.

"Strap her to the table. The King will be here any moment."

Heather glanced at the doorway and started in surprise. The speaker did not look like any other lord that she had seen before. He was tall and slim. His hair was black and cut short, and it was just starting to go gray along the sides. His beard and mustache were also both cut short.

Most lords that Heather had seen wore extravagant clothes as if they were constantly in a competition with their peers. This man wore a robe, that if it was on a woman would probably be called a dress. her ainThe robe was made out of a coarse material, plain brown, and hung to the floor. For some reason it gave Heather the feeling of a magician.

For a moment Myrus didn't say anything. Instead he just glowered at the new arrival, who seemed not to notice or at least not care. Finally, Myrus turned to the nearest guard. "Strap her down."

Something about the way Myrus gave the order implied that he was not pleased about something. Heather found that surprising. She believed that this man enjoyed torture, so why would he be upset?

Rough hands seized her and pushed her down on the table. Heather did not resist. There was no point. There was a time to resist and this wasn't it. Resisting now would serve no purpose, but resisting the coming pain would.

The man in the robe stepped up to the head of the table and stood there, looking down at her. He didn't say anything, just stared at her, so Heather just stared back.

There was a rustling sound from the doorway and the man in the robe turned, disappearing from Heather's sight. She turned her head and realized that all the guards were down on one knee. Even Myrus had knelt.

Tilting her head back as far as she could against the hard table, Heather could just make out the image of an old short man entering the room. In addition to being short, he was also pudgy. Regardless of his height and waist, the man was obviously the King. There was just something about the man's stature. He had sharp calculating eyes and a firm jaw. There wasn't a crown on his bushy brown hair, but it wasn't required.

"Rise," the King said.

All around there was the creaking and rustling as all those kneeling men climbed to their feet.

"Myrus, you've done good." The King said, moving farther into the room.

"Thank you, your majesty. If you allow me to proceed then I can find the location of the helmet." He paused, following the progression of the King as he continued to walk. "If I had been allowed to question them already, then I could have presented the helmet to you upon your arrival."

"Your ways do work sometimes, but they tend to destroy the subject." The King said, coming to a stop beside the table and looking down at Heather. He studied her for a moment and then looked back to Myrus. "You and your guards can leave."

"Sir?" Myrus asked incredulously. "Shouldn't I stay at least," his eyes glanced to Heather, "just for your protection."

The King smiled a weary smile. "No. Leave us." His tone left no room for further objections.

Myrus took a deep breath and seemed to want to argue, but he knew better. "Out," he said simply and as one, the guards bowed and left the room. Myrus was last. He paused in the doorway and looked back, almost as if he was hoping the king would change his mind, but the king was not paying him any attention. He turned sharply and closed the door.

Heather was alone with the king and the man in the brown robe. In addition a third man stepped up to the table. He was a newcomer and must have followed in behind the king as she hadn't even known he was there. She swallowed hard, fearing what was about to happen.

The new arrival also had black hair but he was clean shaven and n wiswaljust entering his middle years, and his sideburns were just beginning to show the first signs of graying. The newcomer also wore a robe, but his clothes were made from a soft black material, infinitely smoother than the other man's brown robe. He looked to the King and then to the man in brown, as if he was unsure of his place here. Finally his gaze came to rest on Heather and her opinion of him was forced upwards. There was a power in his eyes even if he lacked the self assurance to know it.

The King's face leaned out over the table and smiled down at Heather. "Hello my dear. I am King Stennis. I am the owner of the items that you stole. Would you like to make this easy on all of us and tell me where the helmet of Ashteroth is located?"

"And if I knew where this helmet was, would you let us go?" Heather asked, trying not to show her nervousness.

The King's smile slipped and he shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't do that." He straightened up but remained standing on the side of the table. He motioned to the man in the brown robe, who had taken up position on the other side of the table. "This is Agminion. He's the royal sorcerer."

Heather's eyes widened and she glanced at Agminion. She had guessed magician but plainly she had been wrong. She wasn't sure exactly he was capable of and that bothered her. The thought of Dagan compelling the captain of the guard to do as he had bidden flashed across her mind. It wasn't a comforting thought.

"And this," the King said waving his hand in the general direction of the black robed man, who was now standing at the end of the table, "is Laric, my magician."

"What are they here for?" Heather asked. She wasn't sure what they were about to do to her and that was a problem. It was good that Myrus' torturers were not about to start working on her, but the down side was that she didn't know what these men were capable of doing.

The King turned to Laric, "Are you ready?"

"Yes, your majesty," Laric answered with a small bow of his head. He leaned forward and for the first time Heather noticed that he held a goblet. He slowly tilted the goblet and a red gelatinous liquid began to dribble out onto Heather's leg. He slowly proceeded around the table, after the king and Agminion moved out of his way. About half way around the table he began to speak softly. So softly in fact, that Heather could barely make out the words, but she felt certain that she knew what he was doing.

"Is he casting a spell?" she asked, her eyes seeking for and finding the king.

The King nodded. "Yes. Laric is young but very talented. Myrus's ways do work but we have had better luck with this method. You see, Laric's spell will disorient and confuse you and then Agminion's abilities will come in to play. The two of them together like this have never failed me."

Heather watched the liquid being slowly poured on the table around her head. "I don't understand. Is this some sort of torture?"

"No," King Stennis answered. "Think of it as a truth spell, although there isn't such a thing. A sorcerer and magician working like this will almost assuredly compel you to tell the truth." He shrugged, "It is not full proof, but I have never seen it fail. In a matter of minutes, you will be telling me where the helmet is."

Heather less.ionooked down at the table and realized that the liquid was mixing with the powder that had already been on the table. The two were combining and causing a funny smelling cloud to hang low over the table. The smell made her head woozy and she found that she was having difficulty focusing her eyes.

Several hours later King Stennis led his sorcerer and magician from one of the "questioning" rooms and stopped in the hall. There were no guards in sight. The king looked from one man to the other. "So? Any ideas how this happened?"

"No sir," Laric answered immediately.

"How about you?" King Stennis asked of Agminion. "Could they have all been conditioned to resist yours and Laric's spells?"

Agminion shook his head, "I do not think so, your majesty. I had never heard of this," he motioned in Laric's direction, "joining magic and sorcery to force honesty from a person until I became your sorcerer. I doubt there are that many who know of what we do here."

King Stennis sighed. It was true. This particular trick, combining magic and sorcery was very rare and he had never heard of a way to teach someone how to resist. The odds of them all having the natural ability to resist was unbelievable. That left only one possibility. "Agminion. In your opinion, are they telling the truth?"

The sorcerer hesitated a moment and nodded. "I believe so, your majesty."

"Uh, Sir," Laric put in hesitantly, "there's still one more prisoner."

"Yes, but this won't work on him." Agminion said. "He's a sorcerer and a fairly powerful one at that."

The King was silent for several long moments. Laric unconsciously fidgeted but Agminion waited patiently. Finally King Stennis pulled himself up to his full height. "How long until the prisoners recover?"

Laric blinked and began to furiously consider the question, but Agminion answered first. "They all should be awake early tomorrow morning."

The King nodded. "Good. Once they're all alert, take them back to their cells and let me know."

Chapter 20

The four Guardians and Keenan gathered just outside of the main village building, Kara was the last to arrive. The sun was going down and had already dropped below the tops of the trees. The shadows were long but at least the heat of the day had passed. They could see Leela standing at the top of the stairs waiting for them. Derek turned his back to the building and faced his friends.

"All right, listen to me. I'm not sure about what's about to happen but I want each of you to remain quiet and let me speak for us. Understood?" Derek eyed each of them in turn.

Enstorion simply rolled his eyes, which could have meant anything.

Trestus shrugged and nodded and of all of them, he was the one that Derek trusted to be quiet.

Keenan frowned and looked rather grumpy. He was a prince after all and not used to being told what to do. He also wasn't uhere ght="0"sed to letting others take the lead in negotiations.

Kara's right eyebrow was twitching and she most definitely looked unhappy. She crossed her arms under her breasts and began tapping her foot. Not a good sign. "Derek, we need to talk."

Derek shook his head, "Not now. This Master of theirs is waiting for us." Kara just glowered at him.

Derek sighed. He thought longingly of the days when he had been just another soldier, fighting for his life against overwhelming odds. Turning around, he led them up the stairs and stopped one step below the top. Leela stood there, watching them. Her arms were by her sides and she seemed vaguely welcoming.

"Leela," Derek said and nodded his head at the woman. "We have been asked here to meet this lord of yours."

"He's not a lord. He's the Master of the Forest," Leela corrected, but she moved out of the way.

Derek opened the door and stepped into the dark interior. The building was, for the most part, as he remembered it; maybe a little darker. There wasn't a fire in the pit this time, but torches had been lit and hung every few feet on the wall. There was one table in the middle of the room and it was covered with food; this time, there was roast venison as well. The smell of the deer made his mouth water.

Derek walked up to the edge of the table, followed closely by Keenan, Kara, Trestus, and lastly by Enstorion. Leela had entered as well, but she stood off to the side.

Two men waited for them by the head of the table. The first one was Gilbert, the man they had met when they arrived that first day. The second man was undoubtedly the man they all referred to as the Master, but he stood in the shadows.

"My name is Derek Aldanon and I am a member of the Guardians. Your people were of assistance to us when we entered the forest, but since then they have detained us and refused to let us leave. Our business is important and you had no right to delay us. Several more days and we would have been forced to fight out way free."

Both Trestus and Kara looked surprised, but only briefly. Derek knew better than to negotiate from a position of weakness, that was something he had learned being born into a merchant house.

Gilbert looked indignant and looked about ready to speak, but just then the other man stepped forward into the light. He was short and a little pudgy. Certainly not a handsome man, his nose was too big and he had a short but scruffy looking beard. His black hair was peppered with gray and he had the unmistakable look of a man who had never worked a hard day in his life. But there was something about him; a feeling of authority.

The silence in the room was broken by a gasp from Kara. Derek looked at her questioningly, but her eyes were locked on the newcomer. She was most definitely surprised and Derek got the feeling she had met this man before.

"Kara?" Derek asked in confusion.

Kara never took her eyes from the man. "I know him. This is Archbishop Nathan Tanner."

"Archbishop?" Derek repeated, turning his gaze back to the two men. His hand automatically dropped to his belt knife. A sudden and worrisome thought occurring to him.
Was this a trick of the Church's?

Nathan held up his handstang. Der in front of him. "Peace. I will not harm you." His voice was a bit nasally and he smiled reassuringly as he spoke.

"He wasn't just any bishop either," Kara continued, still staring at the man. "His primary mission was to gather information on the enemies of the church."

A spy,
Derek thought. The Church of Adel was rumored to pay for information. People who openly discussed their anger at the Church had a way of disappearing, as did those who talked quietly about their anger. Rumors said the Church would pay for any information on trouble makers, gossips, or general unhappiness when it came to the Church. It was even rumored that the Church granted certain dispensations so that its informants could do unsavory things to get in good with the subjects of their investigations.

Nathan dropped his hands to his side and nodded. His smile was gone and now his expression was one of guilt. "It's true, I'm afraid. For a very long time, I was one of the most vile men you could ever imagine. I had children interrogated so that I could verify their parents' guilt, I paid whores to ruin the lives of men who disagreed with the Church, and I even blackmailed or threatened men into silence." He paused and took a deep breath, "When those way did not work, I made those men disappear."