The Black Knife

by Christopher Nuttall

  Hind looked up into his eyes. “I think we are,” she said, holding up the ring. Eric pulled her towards him for a long kiss. “I wish we had time for…”

  She blushed. Eric blushed too, suggesting that she hadn’t been the only one with amorous thoughts. “We don’t have time, I think,” Eric said, ruefully. “I think that we’d better get washed and out of here. It won’t be long before Herod comes after the Golden City.”

  Hind nodded as she stood up, scowling down at the bloodstains on her wedding outfit. If she walked out in the open wearing that, she’d attract more attention than she wanted. No one would fail to remember her. Herod’s spies would find it easy to track her down.

  “Yes,” she said, looking around until she saw the large washbasin in one corner of the room. “Are you sure he is going to come here?”

  “He doesn’t have a choice,” Eric confirmed. “He has to take the Golden City to secure the area, before someone starts raising a revolt against him. He’ll be down here within hours at most, love.”

  “I see,” Hind said. She hesitated, and then reminded herself she was married, before she pulled the dress over her head and left it lying on the floor. She found herself blushing as Eric stared at her, wondering suddenly if she was the first naked woman he’d seen. He was a virgin – it was part of the requirement to be a Crown Prince, he’d told her once – but he could have done other things with the maids, or with some of the aristocratic women out there. She walked over to the washbasin, muttered a spell to warm the water, and then started to scrub herself down. A moment later, Eric joined her, washing his own body before drying himself with a towel. She found it hard to keep her eyes off him, but there was no choice. The rings were broadcasting and amplifying their feelings to one another and making it hard to think.

  “Go see if the landlord has any clothes I could borrow,” Hind said, as soon as Eric had pulled on his clothes. “If he has a daughter or a wife…”

  Eric nodded, gave her a kiss on the forehead and headed out of the room. Hind took the opportunity to run through some calming exercises, forcing her thoughts into more thoughtful patterns. The thought of pulling him to her and just forgetting the outside world was hellishly tempting, yet if he were right, it would see them both caught in a trap. It wasn't worth it. They had to get out of the trap before they could relax and…be a married couple.

  She looked over towards the remains of her cloak and the black knife hidden within the garment. Even at such a remove, she could feel the tightly-focused power within the weapon, a mocking reminder of just what had happened to the Emperor. Her duty as a Freelance Mage was to take it to the Grandmaster, but her duty to her husband was to remain with him and support him in his bid to regain the Throne. A moment later, she laughed at herself. Eric had two people; Duke Herod had thousands, including many magicians. The odds were not in their favour.

  Eric returned and held out a pile of clothes. “I had to buy them from him for five gold pieces,” he said, dryly. Hind shook out a shabby brown dress that had seen better days and winced. Judging from the emanations surrounding the dress, the innkeeper’s daughter hadn’t bothered to wait to get married before she started sleeping with men, many different men. “I hope they’re suitable because there weren't any others.”

  Hind pulled the dress on and frowned down at it. The innkeeper’s daughter had also been remarkably fat, she guessed, as she tightened the belt to hold it in. The dress had no hood, but she ran her hands though her hair and sorted it into a tight bun, rather than a ponytail or allowing it to fall down her back. The innkeeper had even included a red ribbon for her hair, the sign of a married woman. Hind looked down at it, recalled all the times when she thought she would never get married, and wove it into her hair. Eric looked up at her and tried hard to keep a straight face. She knew that she looked dreadfully frumpy, but suddenly she saw the funny side and they both started laughing. Herod wouldn’t be looking for a Master Magician who looked like she did!

  There was a knock at the door and they both froze, before Eric drew Morningstar from its scabbard and opened the door. A middle-aged man with a long brown beard looked in and held up his hands to show that they were empty. Hind recognised him and found herself smiling, even though his coming boded ill.

  “Sage Laraneth,” she said, warmly. “What can we do for you?”

  “You have to get out of the city,” Sage Laraneth said, flatly. Hind could sense his unease. Sages – and the Oracles they served and protected – were not supposed to get involved in politics. Kuralla could have talked him into it, or simply refused to cooperate until he did as she said, yet it was still dangerous. The Order of the Sage could not afford to have their neutrality questioned. “She” – he tapped his eyes significantly – “had a vision where she saw the city burning. If you get caught here…”

  He pulled a bag off his shoulder and passed it over to Hind. “There’s a caravan leaving Main Square in an hour for Garstang,” he added. “She strongly suggests that you take it and get out of here.”

  “Garstang?” Eric repeated. “That isn’t on our route.”

  Hind looked over at him, surprised. She hadn’t known that he’d planned a route already, although in hindsight it was obvious. There was only one place they could go if he wanted to avenge his father and recover the Throne. Still, he was right; Garstang was not on the direct route there. In fact, if she remembered her maps correctly, Garstang would be several weeks out of their way.

  “The direct route might be a little…hazardous,” Sage Laraneth pointed out. Hind nodded in agreement. Herod could draw the same conclusion just as easily. “My charge tells you that you will need the contents of that bag. I’m afraid she didn’t tell us anything else.”

  “I thank you,” Eric said, formally. He drew himself up, every inch the Prince and future Emperor. “When I am restored to my Throne, I will see that you are rewarded.”

  If Sage Laraneth found the statement pompous – or amusing – he didn’t show it. “Reward us by remaining alive, Your Highness,” he said. “Good luck.”

  He turned and left the room as silently as he had arrived. Hind barely saw him go as she rooted through the bag, uncovering tiny jars of potions and some small bags of herbs. It was obvious that Kuralla had intended her to pose as a travelling healer, perhaps as an alchemist or druid. It had been several years since Hind had brewed potions – apart from a handful of healing potions that had been just for herself – but it was something she’d never forgotten how to do. Just looking at the selection of rare herbs – many of which had some magical properties that could be unlocked by a potions master – reminded her of some potions she’d brewed as a student.

  “We’ll say that you came here for the Midsummer Faire,” Eric said, when she explained what she’d been sent. “I’ll be your bodyguard…no, brother, protecting you from the evils of the city and bringing you back to your husband unharmed. No one will look for a Prince playing at being a bodyguard.”

  “And I’m sure that it is a body you would like to guard,” Hind said. She stood up and collected the hidden knife. “We’d better start moving before the caravan is full.”

  There was no sign of Sage Laraneth outside when they left the inn – having paid for a week’s accommodation in advance, just to confuse the trail – but Hind could feel a…edge in the city’s air that she hadn’t felt before Midsummer’s Eve. Midsummer’s Day was meant to be a happy day; a day when everyone could let down their hair and take a break from all their worries, yet instead the entire city was worrying, looking up nervously towards the Golden Palace. Every magic-user in the city would have sensed the wards disappearing and known that something had gone badly wrong. There was a chill in the air that had nothing to do with the sun.

  They stopped outside an magical shop and Hind went in to purchase a handful of other ingredients, including some that Kuralla hadn’t thought of including. The seller, an elderly woman with a missing eye, seemed unaware of the changes in the city, although sh
e did comment that perhaps the younger folk should be heading out of the city. Eric said nothing, but Hind could sense his shame and dismay at what was happening to the city his ancestors had created and nurtured ever since the Empire had been founded. Hind made her purchases and led him back outdoors, hoping that he hadn’t taken the classes that would have taught him what some of the herbs could be used for. It was too embarrassing to discuss, even with Eric.

  Main Square was packed, with long lines of caravans being assembled and mated to horses and donkeys for the journey out of town. Outside the more civilised areas of Touched, the only way for commoners to travel was in groups; strength in numbers. A single man or woman who tried to make the journey on their own would be lucky if they managed to escape bandits, or hunting creatures, let alone some of the nastier dangers out there. Hired guards lounged around, showing off their muscles and an odd collection of weaponry, waving their bonded passes at anyone interested. It hadn’t been uncommon for the driver and guards to rob their passengers, but bonded guards who did would be tracked down and executed. A guard who wasn’t bonded would be unlikely to get any charters for the journey.

  “We could always take that coach over there,” Eric said, nodding towards a small group of four couches. “That’s heading right towards Larkrise.”

  Hind shook her head. “I think that we should listen to our friend,” she said, firmly. “If she warned us off the direct route, she must have Seen something that would make it impossible for us to get through.”

  “Or perhaps she just wants us to hop around for a few months,” Eric growled. “Do you trust her? I mean…do you really trust her?”

  “Trust isn’t involved,” Hind said. She squeezed his hand tightly. “An Oracle’s magic binds them to always tell the truth about what they see. They’re not even allowed to mislead people into going the wrong way. I think that we can trust her to know that taking the direct route is likely to end badly.”

  “But taking the indirect route is going to take time,” Eric muttered, reluctantly. “If Herod has months, even a year, to consolidate his power, defeating him is going to be much harder.”

  “I know,” Hind admitted. “I understand just how you feel.”

  The Garstang Caravan proved to be a cluster of nine coaches, each one capable of carrying twenty people in reasonable comfort, and seventeen smaller carriages capable of carrying four people, if they didn’t mind being friendly. There were also several wagons loaded with goods and supplies, for the road to Garstang was not well-maintained. There were a handful of inns along the way, but most of them were untrustworthy or of low quality. Despite her fears, Hind was quite looking forward to the journey. She had never visited Garstang or the wastelands before.

  “My sister and I require a carriage to ourselves,” Eric was saying as he spoke to the leader, a short bulky man called Bran. Bran seemed to have a hint of magic, although it had never been formally trained or allowed to flourish. “She cannot be allowed to sleep near other men.”

  Bran didn’t seem to like that attitude, but the money Eric was forking over seemed to cure any scruples the man might have. It was actually a fairly typical attitude for siblings from the borderlands, although travellers like Bran would probably prefer to be more cosmopolitan in their attitudes. Still, the money would ensure that they got some privacy and no one would have a chance to penetrate their disguises. She allowed Eric to help her into waiting area and tried to look submissive. It wasn't easy. Submission wasn't a trait of any magic-user.

  “Now listen carefully,” Bran said, once the convoy’s slots had all been taken. He’d actually tried to talk Eric out of reserving all four seats in the carriage – he could have put at least one more person in the space – but Eric had refused and kept refusing, even handing over more money. Hind suspected that such largess would be remembered, yet she couldn’t say anything to Eric, not in front of Bran. “The drive to Garstang takes around two weeks. It may take a few days longer depending on the weather or if we run into trouble. If we do run into trouble, do exactly as I tell you and we should get out of trouble. On the trip, my word is law. If any of you have a problem with that, I suggest that you leave now.”

  Hind smiled inwardly as no one left. Their fellow passengers were an odd group. There was a boastful crowd of young men who were fingering swords as if they wanted to draw them and strike dramatic poses, a collection of families – including children – and a pair of older women who had wrapped themselves completely in shawls. The guards looked reasonably fit and confident, but Hind wasn't too inclined to trust them completely, bonds or no bonds. Duke Herod could offer rewards that would make betraying a bond very enticing. Apart from her, there were no trained magic-users in the convoy.

  “You may board your carriages,” Bran announced grandly. Hind had to smile at how he was milking the moment for all it was worth. She climbed into the carriage, winced at how small it was, and concentrated on establishing a number of tiny wards around their seats. “And let us be off.”

  Hind braced herself as the carriage lurched into life and started to drive out of the Golden City. She wanted to lie back and remain hidden, but Eric was staring out of the window, up towards the Golden Palace. A moment later, Hind felt the magic field twist and jump as something changed.

  “I think we left just in time,” Eric said. His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognisable. “They’re coming down the mountain now.”

  Hind reached for him and pulled him into her arms. He sounded as if he didn’t expect to ever see the Golden City again. The carriage lurched again as the horses picked up speed, suggesting that Bran had sensed the change as well and was intent on getting them out of danger as fast as possible. Hind doubted that they could move fast enough.

  Carefully, she started preparing a number of deadly spells. If they were caught, she intended to sell her life dearly. Herod would pay a price for what he’d done.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Master Reginald floated in the air above the army and watched as the torrent of guardsmen raced down towards the Golden City. Ahead of them, the City Guard were hastily sealing the gates, but it was already too late. The City Guard had been kept deliberately weak by the Emperor – he had had no interest in giving the Mayor the power to become a major voice in local politics – and they simply weren't any match for Herod’s Army. It would have been a different issue if most of the magic-users in the city had been able to cooperate, but many of the most powerful had left the city in the wake of the Trials, or were secretly working for Herod. The last report, from a spy in the council chambers, had reported that the Mayor and his Council were still running around like headless chickens, unaware of what was going on above them, but chillingly aware that the world had changed for the worse.

  Like all major cities, the Golden City was surrounded by a heavy wall, which in turn was infused with light wards, intended to keep out supernatural vermin. They had never been very effective – the wards were spread too far over a wide area, preventing them from concentrating against multiple threats – and they wouldn't be able to stem the advancing tide of men for more than a few minutes. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Reginald had over a hundred sorcerers under him and their combined powers would be more than sufficient to breech the gates.

  He watched dispassionately as the guardsmen spread out, concentrating on surrounding the city and blocking all of the gates to prevent escape. Reginald could see hundreds of people disappearing in the distance, but they weren't important...and, besides, they were heading right towards the zombies. They wouldn't be able to escape completely, no matter which way they ran, and the zombies would kill them before they realised what they were facing. And then, he knew, their lifeless bodies would reanimate and join the army of the dead. He lifted himself high in the air and gazed down upon the city below. If there was any effective resistance forming, apart from the City Guard, he couldn't see any sign of it. Most of the population appeared to be cowering in their houses, hoping that the tidal wave
of violence would pass over them and leave them unharmed. Reginald snorted at the thought. Herod had insisted on an object lesson and that was exactly what he would get.

  The magic holding him in the air slowly dispelled at his command, lowering him towards the ground beside the General, who cast a sharp look at him. The General had warned him, in no uncertain terms, that presenting a flying target risked death by archer or magical attack. A normal arrow could never have broken though Reginald’s wands, but a competent enchanter could probably have created one that would have slipped through and killed him, or wounded him badly enough that he lost his concentration and fell down to the ground. Reginald smiled back at the General, aware that the old soldier disliked him and not particularly caring. Besides, the Mayor and his Council were so cowed that no one had even tried to shoot him out of the air.

  “My men are in position,” the General said, finally. By right of magic, Reginald should be in command, but Herod’s orders had been imprecise and Reginald didn't quite dare push the issue. After watching the zombies stand up and walk off into the gloom, Reginald had been wondering just what he’d gotten himself into. The cold disapproving presence of the sword he now wore on his back was a constant reminder that he might have made a mistake. “I shall now call upon the city to surrender.”