Vitiosi Dei (Heritage of the Blood Book 2)

by Brent Lee Markee

  Looking behind him, he couldn't help the small groan that escaped his lips as he looked upon the awe that radiated from the rest of his classmates as they looked between him and their Instructor.

  “That, my young pupils, is how one fights with a quarterstaff. I expect that our show of skill will light a fire to learn in most of you, and if that display didn't, you probably shouldn't be here this coming Thirdday,” Instructor Boulette said, barely breathing hard.

  From the looks on the faces of his classmates as they left for the evening, Shawnrik was not surprised two days later when everyone was present and enthusiastic to learn.

  Chapter 6

  Choices and Consequences

  Year: 3045 AGD

  Month: New Year

  First Thirdday (Evening)

  Continent of Terroval

  Ruined City of Asylum

  “Your Majesty. I cannot continue the greetings without first stating that I object wholeheartedly to the presence of the royal family in Asylum.”

  “Do you really hate us that much, Stewart?” Queen Sophiana Theromvore asked, teasing the High Commander.

  “I do not object to your presence personally, just at this current location. This is not a secure location, and I will have to remove valuable men from the search and sanitation of the city and the surrounding area,” Stewart Cantel replied crisply.

  “Sanitation, I like that,” Ashur whispered to Nim. “Much better than saying cleaning up dead bodies and making more where needed,” before Nim elbowed him.

  “As High Commander of the Knights, I respect your position in this matter, Cantel, but I must insist upon our continued presence here. There is quite a bit of talk amongst the nobles, including dissension about the fact that the Dracair forces were allowed control of our second largest city, and for such a long time.”

  “Allowed?!” Cantel did not bother to mask his outrage.

  “It is not my wording,” Theodrik Theromvore II said, his hands raised in a placating manner. The man was King of the Protectorate and one of the most politically powerful men in all of Terrazil, but he, like anyone else with sense, was afraid of Stewart Cantel. Nim couldn’t help but muse upon how wise a fear that was as the conversation continued.

  “Before the blood starts flowing too hotly in you men, you should know that our reason for this trip was to reassure the population that we are behind you completely and that everything is well in hand.” Sophia Theromvore was a very astute politician and excellent diplomat, but she must have had very limited contact with Stewart Cantel.

  “That’s just the problem though my Queen. I am still not certain that we do have everything under control.”

  “Nonsense, Cantel, I have the utmost faith in your ability to keep this situation contained,” the King added with a grin that slowly withered under his High Commander’s scowl.

  Nim cleared his throat.

  “What is it, General Mithriannil?” Stewart Cantel asked through tightly pressed lips.

  “General?” King Theromvore interrupted enthusiastically. “Excellent, all the better. It is good to see you serving the protectorate once again, Nim.”

  “I have never stopped serving the well-being of the Protectorate, Your Majesty,” Nim said curtly, once again removing the smile that had come to the King’s face.

  “Of course you haven’t, we all know that,” Sophiana Theromvore said.

  “Yes, of course her Royal Majesty realizes that, but that is not the issue at hand. I must emphasize the position of High Commander Theromvore, and as Royal Adviser tell you that this location is far from secure. We have no reports on the size of the enemy, nor do we have enough men at full strength to defend this position should the enemy send a force the size of the last against us. I strongly request that if the Royal Personages will not leave that at least the Princes and the Princess be sent back to the safety of Safeharbor’s walls.”

  “General Mithriannil is correct in my humble opinion, Your Majesty,” Arch Magus Windsbane added, which caused everyone in the room to turn their attention to the ancient mage, who had thus far remained silent. “I could have one of my mages escort them to the line of power north of here and have them home safely for breakfast.”

  Nim was silently thanking the Arch Magus, but by the set expression on the King's face and the way he held himself, Nim knew that they were not going to change the man's mind. The protective look in the Queen's eyes gave him a sliver of hope that she might be able to persuade her husband differently, in a much more private setting.

  “We shall take the matter into consideration,” His Majesty said, using the royal we, which simply meant that he would talk to himself about it and tell everyone later that they were all wrong and he was right.

  Ashur sighed before murmuring in Nim’s ear, “Well, at least we tried.”

  First Eighthday

  Continent of Terroval

  Ruined City of Asylum

  “One more week and we should be able to consider this city secure, Nim,” High Commander Stewart Cantel said with a sigh of relief. “Then I won’t have to lie awake at night fretting over our royal guests’ safety.”

  “Yes, those thoughts do seem to worm their way into one’s mind, don’t they,” Nim retorted in a tired voice, well punctuated at the end with a yawn.

  “I don’t know, I sleep pretty well,” Ashur grinned as his friends, who were also his superiors, scowled at him. It was true, of course; his sleep had suffered little since the arrival of the royal family. He understood the consequences should anything happen to the members of the royal family, but he didn’t think it was his problem. They had told Theodrik Theromvore II, his brother and King of the Protectorate, about the risks involved, and the man had summarily dismissed such talk as rubbish.

  The King of the Protectorate was simply handling his portion of governing the Protectorate: the politics. Ashur didn't like the fact that his brother was wagering the safety of his family in order for some puffed up nobles to feel safer behind the hundred foot walls that surrounded Safeharbor.

  As a soldier, there was little need to worry about political repercussions. There were three groups of people in Ashur’s mind, and those were allies, enemies, and bystanders. Allies you helped keep alive; enemies you helped meet their gods; and in the process of doing the first two, try to protect the bystanders as much as possible. Right now, the royal family was on the level of bystander in Ashur’s mind, and if they were not smart enough to get out of the way of danger, that was their choice. It didn’t matter that the king was his brother; the man had made his own decisions and now his whole family had to live with the consequences.

  “Ashur?” Nim asked, using the voice he used when commanding troops to snap his friend out of his thoughts.

  “Sorry, General, my thoughts were wandering,” Ashur replied.

  “Well pay attention,” Nim said, his tone not quite scolding. “Cantel and I were just discussing...”

  Whatever it was that they had been discussing, however, Ashur would never know, because Nim was cut off by the sound of rapidly approaching feet heading in their direction. A heartbeat later, the tent flap was thrown back by one of the guards outside, and an out of breath soldier came in, snapping into a crisp salute.

  Ashur recognized the soldier as Corporal Lance Tanner. He and Nim had saved the boy a long time ago, and Ashur was proud of the man that now stood before them. It was well known that Tanner would make a fine officer someday, should he live long enough to attain it.

  “Out with it, Corporal,” High Commander Cantel barked.

  “Sir, it's the princess. We can't find her, and we just found the body of the man who had been assigned guard duty today.” Cantel started swearing, but Nim caught the same look on the Corporal's face that Ashur had.

  “That's not all, is it?” Nim sat down at a nearby table, beginning to write out orders, but by the time Corporal Tanner finished his answer, the quill had fallen from his hand.

  “No sir, that isn't all...
” Corporal Tanner said, his face turning pale. "The man's body, sir… he's been dead at least a week.”

  “Changeling,” Ashur hissed with disgust.

  “Doppelganger, most likely. Were any of the body parts missing, Corporal?” Nim barely allowed time for the man to nod before continuing. “Yes, Doppelganger. They are able to absorb parts of a person in order to completely assume their target's identity. It is a specialized version of Shaping that is more pronounced in several of the Blood Mages' test subjects. I'm told that it is easier for them to assume the form if they ingest part of a recently deceased corpse, though the older Doppelgangers only need to be in close proximity to their target to assume a new form.”

  “When was the last time anyone saw the princess and her guard?” Ashur asked as Nim's quill once again began to scratch out orders upon parchment.

  “Five hours ago, as near as I can tell, sir. I sent the men out to scour the area that the two had been seen in last before I ran to tell you.”

  “Good work,” Ashur said, all the while his mind went to work on the problem at hand. “Tell your Sergeant to have the men comb the city block by block in the direction that the princess was last seen heading. The Doppelganger will not leave much sign of its passing, but the princess might.”

  Corporal Lance Tanner stood silently for a moment too long to suit Ashur's sensibilities. “What did you not understand about my order, Corporal? Run along to your Sergeant.”

  “Sir, I would love to follow that order, but my Sergeant was the one assigned to guard the Princess today.”

  Ashur took a deep breath. “Well then, Sergeant Tanner, it looks like you just found yourself a field promotion, now hop to it!” Ashur was glad to see the young man salute sharply and turn to exit the tent before he had finished his sentence.

  Stewart Cantel was still swearing in as many languages as he knew, but he was also staring at the large map that was sprawled out across the table. Nim was scrawling out orders, and Ashur saw that he would be of no more help here. He had a division at his command, and he’d be damned if any of them would get any sleep over the next few days.

  He scowled as he walked out of the tent.

  His niece was missing.

  First Eighthday

  Continent of Terroval

  City of Siniquity

  “Tell me you have good news for us, Temendri,” the old Blood Mage said as his apprentice entered his study.

  “I have good news, and not necessarily bad news, Lord Yandarian,” Temendri stated as he moved towards the desk of the man who had been instructing him in the arts of Anatomancy for the last fifteen years of his life.

  “Well then, why don't we start with the good news and work our way down from there. I'm hoping that our agent was able to apprehend his target?”

  “Yes indeed! The latest reports have him moving towards Freeport, in the opposite direction that the majority of the search is being conducted. Along the designated timetables and adjusting for unforeseen delays, the Princess should be in your hands before the month of Ragnós.” Temendri was trained well enough to keep the emotions from his face, but inside he was ecstatic. Such a coup for the Master should keep Yandarian content for a few weeks at least, even with the nature of his other news. That meant that he might not be beaten, or forced to watch Yandarian dismember anyone in the name of knowledge.

  “Excellent, she will be a very important tool for our Master's plans. Send out all the Dracairei we have available when they hit land from the Sea of Turmoil. Have two of them escort the Shifter and the Princess here, and have the rest dissuade any pursuit.” The smile never touched his lips, but the mad gleam in Yandarian's eyes told Temendri that his teacher was indeed pleased and already planning his next move. “Now, as to our other news of indeterminate negativity?”

  “I have received the weekly report from the guards at the mine where the boy is being held. They have been following your orders to the letter, neither being vicious nor soft towards the lad. He receives the same rations as the other slaves, and sleeps in the same cell as his work crew. The boy has been quiet and withdrawn ever since we put him there, quietly doing the work without complaint. He has never interacted with the other slaves, and has shown neither the desire for freedom nor the crushing defeat that usually accompanies such servitude.” Temendri took a deep breath before continuing.

  “During the last week, however, something has changed. He has become more introspective, and can often be seen drawing or writing in the dust in his corner of the cell. He occasionally mutters to himself, but no one has yet to catch anything he says. The other slaves have begun to unconsciously give the boy more space, and he nearly has half of the cell to himself now, though the guards do not think that he has noticed this change yet. His productivity has elevated, and he seems to be letting out some unknown frustrations on the walls of the mine. Even some of the guards seem to be giving the boy a little more distance than they had before. I do not know what to make of these reports, but I thought that you might.”

  “Interesting indeed, this could be a good sign. If he is starting to lose control of his sanity, then maybe he can still become malleable enough for me to work with him. The Master knows how horribly the first attempt failed. If not, the Princess should help to bring him around...” Yandarian did grin this time, and it was not a friendly expression, “...one way or another.”

  Temendri shuddered inwardly, knowing first hand some of the other ways in which his teacher might put the Princess to use. He hadn't gotten the same impression from the message from the mine as Yandarian seemed to, but he hoped that his teacher was right, otherwise it could spell disaster. If Yandarian was wrong, it might mean that the creature inside the boy was awakening again, and if it could awaken even while the boy was wearing the manacles, there was nothing they could do to control what was to come.

  Chapter 7

  Shaken, Not Stirred

  15 Years BGD

  South Harbor

  “Greatest Grandmother!” Dalton Alexander Theromvore said as Tyrdra came into view. Even at fifteen he still felt like a little kid every time she came into view. It was no wonder; she was the second oldest person he knew, the first being Elyas.

  “Dalton, I'm glad to see you are hard at work training. What are you working on today?”

  As she moved closer, Dalton noticed that Tyrdra was dressed for battle. This was the first time he had ever seen her outfitted for battle, and the feelings that she evoked in him were a confusing mix to the teenager. Even though she had been around for over seven hundred years, she looked like she was in her mid-twenties, despite worry lines had begun to appear on her forehead. She moved with a grace that he had only seen before in dancers and acrobats, and she was supremely confident in each and every movement. Her red hair that normally flowed down around her shoulders was pulled back into a tight braid. Her armor had obviously been designed to restrain her curves, but it wasn't enough to stop the eye from being drawn to her form. Part of him was sickened by his reaction since she was still in his family tree, but the other part reminded him that that was well over twenty generations ago.

  “The Knight Commander said that I favor my right hand, so I am supposed to do left handed sword drills until I am equally proficient with both hands.”

  “And how do you feel about that?” Tyrdra said, noticing Dalton's less than enthusiastic demeanor.

  “I know she has a reason for making me do it, but I feel as if I'm wasting my time practicing something I'll most likely never need.”

  “A lot can happen in a battle; it is very easy for a hand to get injured, and being able to use your remaining hand could mean the difference between life and death. It may never happen, but being prepared for such an eventuality is wise.” Tyrdra put her arm around Dalton's shoulders, guiding him towards the command building. She noted that he was almost as tall as she was now. “I thought that maybe you and I could head to the border and see if we could find ourselves some trouble; we can put some of thi
s training into practical field testing.”

  Dalton looked at Tyrdra to make sure she wasn't messing with him, and then almost ran off without her to ask permission before he noticed that they were already heading in the correct direction. Trying to reassert control over his emotions, he cleared his throat before speaking. “I think that would be a great idea. I hope the Knight Commander agrees.”

  “I think we can get her to come around,” Tyrdra said, not missing the excitement that was coursing through the young man. He was maintaining control through it, however, which reassured her that he was indeed ready for some fieldwork.

  It didn't take them long to reach the office of the Knight Commander, the officer in control of the Knight's training facilities for the Protectorate. Walking into the outer office, a bored looking Corporal looked up from behind a well-worn desk. It took him a moment to register that the people walking in the room were actually important, and when he finally realized it, he shot to his feet and threw his fist over his heart.

  “Lady Dalton, we were not informed of your visit. Knight Commander Theromvore is currently in a meeting, but I could tell her that you are here.”

  “Is the meeting going to take long?”

  “I don't believe so, ma'am, but one can never tell about these things.”

  “We'll just wait out in the hall, then. Please inform the Knight Commander that we are here when it is prudent.” Tyrdra reaffirmed her statement by turning around and heading back into the hall they had come from.