by Wulf, Rich
With a quiet sigh of relief, Shaimin d’Thuranni crawled off through the leaves as quickly as he dared. He made his way back toward the road and the safety of Nathyrr.
FIFTEEN
Captain Draikus and his men did not lead them back to the prison, as Seren expected. Instead he escorted them into the inn itself, to a large room on the second floor. He left one of his three knights in the hall to keep watch, then locked the door behind them. The other two knights took up positions on each side of the door.
“Please, have a seat,” Draikus said, gesturing to the shabby couch and rickety chairs that furnished the room. The tall knight remained standing, slowly pacing the room. Seren sat on a chair in the corner, giving her a good view of all her captors.
“This is most unorthodox,” Dalan said, sitting back on the couch. He removed his small cap and set it on one knee. Tristam sat beside Dalan. Ijaac remained standing, arms folded across his barrel chest.
“How did you arrive in Nathyrr?” Draikus asked, ignoring the question. “You have no steeds. The watchmen at the city gates reported an anonymous d’Cannith, which can only be you, arriving on foot with three others. Surely you didn’t walk all the way from Wroat.”
“I will not answer your questions until I know on what charges we have been arrested,” Dalan said.
“You are not under arrest, Master d’Cannith,” Draikus said. “I am well aware that, if you were, diplomatic entanglements would likely place you well out of my jurisdiction and force me to release you. Fortunately, that is not the case.”
“Then why are we here?” Dalan snapped.
“For your own protection. These questions only serve so that I might protect you more adequately. The innkeeper said that you seek Marshal Eraina d’Deneith?”
Dalan nodded.
“The Marshal is a known associate of the former knight Zed Arthen, who is wanted for questioning in connection with several recent murders,” Draikus said. “You know Arthen well, as I recall. While I am certain that a son of House Cannith would never knowingly accomplice himself to a criminal, I cannot allow such a high profile visitor to our city to endanger himself. You and your employees will remain in my custody until I am certain you are safe.”
Draikus offered a smug smile. Seren noticed that Draikus carried himself with almost the same swagger as Zed Arthen and spoke with the same inflections. The two might have passed as brothers under other circumstances.
“This is ridiculous,” Dalan said. “You know Arthen. Regardless of what passed between you two, you know that Arthen is no murderer.”
“Circumstances strongly suggest otherwise,” Draikus said, “but if you believe differently, help me find him. Allow him to state his case. If he is innocent, the Flame will protect him.”
Dalan sighed. “I don’t know where he is. I was looking for him when you arrested me.”
“What was Arthen doing in Nathyrr?” Draikus asked. “Did you send him here?”
“I’m not sure if I should tell you,” Dalan said.
“You would interfere with justice?” Draikus growled, leaning close. “You may be able to slip through my fingers, d’Cannith, but I can retain these others as long as I like. The girl and the dwarf aren’t even carrying traveling papers. I could arrest them as spies. With the assortment of magical powders and reagents we found on the boy, I’m sure we can find something suspicious enough to detain him.”
“And this is why I won’t help you,” Dalan said, his voice calm and even. “Because you are still so filled with hatred for Zed Arthen that it blinds you to your true duty. If you are the example to which the knighthood aspires, it is no wonder Arthen lost his faith.”
“How dare you insult me, d’Cannith!” Draikus snapped. He leaned over the guildmaster, one gloved hand balled into a fist.
“Do not try to intimidate me, Captain,” Dalan said, “and don’t try to threaten my friends. If you are prepared to approach me as an officer of the law instead of a thug, then perhaps we shall have something to discuss.”
Draikus leaned back, scowling deeply. His lips were pursed into a thin line, as if he were struggling to hold back an angry reply. It was obvious to Seren that Dalan and Draikus knew and hated each other from somewhere, and it was preventing them from saying anything useful to each other.
“What did Zed do?” she asked, attempting to throw the conversation back on course.
“What?” Draikus snapped, looking at her sharply. “Who was speaking to you?”
“What do you believe Zed Arthen did?” she pressed, ignoring his retort. “Obviously it must be important if the captain of the city watch is willing to stake out his room personally.”
Draikus looked at her for a long moment. “Does the name Niam Kenrickson mean anything to you?” he said, watching each of them for their reaction.
“No,” Dalan said. “None of us have even been to Nathyrr before today.”
“Zed Arthen was arrested after a drunken public disturbance yesterday afternoon,” Draikus said. “His fines were paid by a local undertaker, Niam Kenrickson. This morning we discovered Kenrickson, his brother, and six other men in the mortuary, dead from sword and knife wounds.”
“Won’t have to carry the bodies far, I guess,” Ijaac said.
Draikus leveled a glare at the dwarf. Ijaac laughed nervously and fell silent. The captain returned his attention to Dalan.
“There’s more,” Dalan said. “Isn’t there?”
Draikus’s eyes narrowed.
“It isn’t just the bodies, or Zed’s involvement,” Dalan said. “As much as you hate Arthen, you wouldn’t have bothered to stake out his rooms personally unless you had found something much more disturbing. What did you find, Draikus?”
“I am asking the questions here,” the captain said.
“And I am not under arrest,” Dalan said, rising from the couch. “If you do not answer me, I will leave.”
“Then your friends are under arrest,” Draikus said.
“Then I will report your actions to my House and you may deal with the repercussions.” Dalan brushed past Captain Draikus and strolled to the door of the room. “Move,” he said to the guards, “or I promise you will share in his disgrace.” They looked at their captain frantically.
“Fine,” Draikus said, his voice nearly a growl. “Sit down, d’Cannith.”
Dalan returned to the couch, looking up at Draikus intently.
The knight paced the room a bit more rapidly, his arms folded behind his back. “For some time my guards have reported strange activities in the forests,” Draikus said. “There’s been a lot of movement in and out of the woods, along with rare sightings of a large, unmarked airship. I always felt it merited further investigation, but there are certain dangers in the deep Harrowcrowns.”
“Dangers?” Seren asked.
“Portions of these woods have a dark history,” Draikus said. “Some places are still haunted by that history. There are areas still infested with undead, and they have long been sealed off. A full exorcism would have required more manpower than I have available. Thrane’s military is already spread thinly defending our borders. The chances of receiving reinforcements to deal with what amounts to a hunch are almost nothing. That hunch became a great deal more tangible when we searched the Kenrickson mortuary. We found coffins filled with rations, weapons, and medical supplies. It was as if they were supplying a small army.” Draikus’s brash demeanor had faded, if only slightly. He looked tired and worried.
“So it isn’t really Zed that you’re after,” Dalan said.
“Don’t you understand, d’Cannith?” Draikus snapped angrily. “If there’s some sort of conspiracy to weaken Thrane’s borders, Arthen knew about it. Now he’s missing.”
Dalan stared coolly at Draikus for a long moment before speaking. “For the last several months, I have been aiding Marshal Eraina Deneith in the pursuit of a dangerous changeling criminal named Marth,” he said. “This Marth, due to a specific interpretation of the Dracon
ic Prophecy, believes he is destined to destroy the Five Nations. We believe he has reconstructed an experimental magical weapon of vast power and intends to use it in a mission of revenge for the deaths of his wife and children. He has amassed a small army of former Cyran soldiers and secretly constructed a base here in the Harrowcrowns. Zed and Eraina came here to search for that base while we pursued Marth. When the changeling finally eluded us, we returned here to rendezvous with them.” Dalan folded his hands across his lap.
Draikus looked at Dalan silently. “Ridiculous,” the knight said at last. “I knew there was only a slim chance of prying any useful information from you, d’Cannith, but I did not expect to be mocked with such lunacy. Be gone from my sight.” He gestured at the guards, who moved aside and opened the door.
Dalan rose, bowed, and made his way out of the room. Tristam and Ijaac stopped only to collect their weapons. Seren followed, pausing at the door to glance back at Draikus. The knight sat on a chair by the window, shoulders slumped as he stared out at the city.
“Men like Draikus want everything to be simple,” Dalan said as they walked out into the street. He looked out at the quiet bustle of locals going about their midday business. “When convinced with a complicated truth, they dismiss it as a lie.”
“He might have helped us, Dalan,” Seren said. “With the Knights of Thrane behind us, Marth’s soldiers wouldn’t stand a chance.”
“That is quite true, Seren,” Dalan said, “but we wouldn’t have the Knights of Thrane behind us. We would have a handful of knights led by an arrogant, argumentative, and foolish man. I would rather be outnumbered than be encumbered by such allies.”
“So what do we do next?” Tristam asked. “Check out the Kenricksons?”
“No,” Dalan said. “Captain Draikus’s men will still be investigating the scene. If we get in their way, he’s just spiteful enough to truly have us arrested for obstructing his investigation. The less we bother him, the better. He’s already revealed anything useful we can learn from the Kenricksons.”
A leathery flap of wings announced Gerith’s return. The halfling was breathless as he hopped from the saddle. The crowd scattered around them, with many passersby directing terrified looks at the creature.
“Are you all right?” Gerith asked, glancing back at the Kindled Flame, oblivious to the panic he had caused. “I was worried when I saw all those knights go inside.”
“Just a misunderstanding,” Dalan said. “Fortunately we were able to avoid legal entanglements without resorting to arson.” Dalan gave Tristam a look. The artificer pretended not to notice. “Return to Karia Naille and inform Captain Gerriman that we will be taking rooms here in the city. Locating Arthen may take longer than we anticipated.”
“Aye, Captain,” Gerith replied.
“And be careful landing your glidewing in Nathyrr, Gerith,” Dalan chided. “People around here aren’t used to seeing dinosaurs.”
The halfling smirked, as if he was perfectly aware of the fact. He climbed back onto the harness and leapt into the sky.
“Do you think Zed is all right?” Seren asked.
“He has a knack for surviving unfortunate circumstances,” Dalan said. “I maintain hope.”
“Seren and I can poke around the city a bit while you and Ijaac find us a place to stay,” Tristam said. “Maybe someone might know something.”
“Fine, but be careful,” Dalan said, looking at him meaningfully. “We are very close to our enemies now and the only authorities are unlikely to help us.” The guildmaster walked off through the streets of Nathyrr. Ijaac followed a step behind, watching for any signs of trouble.
“Was it just me,” Seren asked, “or did Captain Draikus seem to recognize Dalan?”
“Dalan travels a lot,” Tristam said. “You know how he leaves an impression on people. If they do know each other, that would explain why Draikus liked Dalan so much.” Tristam chuckled. He began leading them in the other direction, out of the late afternoon sun. “Whatever happened between them, it’s none of our concern. Where do you think we should start looking for Zed and Eraina?”
“We should follow the same trail they did,” Seren said. “If we find Marth’s fortress, we might find them along the way.”
“And how do we go about that?”
“Well, we could look for any areas with a lot of Cyran immigrants,” she said. “Those would be a likely recruiting target for Marth.”
“I don’t think we’ll find anything like that in Nathyrr,” Tristam said. “For all their talk of compassion, the Church of the Silver Flame didn’t open Thrane’s borders to the Cyrans like Breland did. We might find a few Mournland refugees here and there, but nothing like in New Cyre.”
They rounded a corner, finding themselves in a deserted alleyway. Seren stopped to think. Something about what Draikus had said to them earlier stuck out. “The forest,” Seren said. “Draikus said that parts of the forest had been sealed off. If we can find out what sections of the woods are haunted, maybe we can figure out where Marth is hiding.”
“Or you can just ask me,” said a bored voice. “I mean really, treading over the same mystery over again grows dreadfully dull sometimes.”
Seren recognized the voice instantly. She whirled, dagger appearing in her hand. Shaimin d’Thuranni stepped from the shadows of a narrow doorway, hands tucked into his sleeves. Tristam drew his wand. The elf moved instantly, running toward them, keeping Seren between himself and the artificer.
“Seren, duck!” Tristam shouted.
Shaimin pulled his arms from his sleeves, a long knife in each hand. He hurled one past Seren, toward Tristam. She glanced back, distracted. The blade flew wide but then Shaimin lunged upon her. He seized her wrist with one hand, twisting hard as he drove his knee into her abdomen. Pain seized her; her dagger clattered into the street. His hand moved to her throat, lifting her easily and holding her as a shield against Tristam’s magic. He ran forward, throwing her aside at the last moment and leaping onto Tristam, bearing him down to the street. The elf’s dagger drew a line across Tristam’s throat, leaving a thin trace of red.
“Ah,” Shaimin said, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he stood and backed away. He dropped his remaining dagger on the road. “That’s all I needed. A sense of closure.”
Seren gasped for breath as she struggled to her feet. She ran to Tristam’s side. He was stunned but barely injured.
“I no longer intend to kill you, Master Xain,” Shaimin said. “I merely wished to satisfy my curiosity and assure myself that I could.”
“Maniac!” Tristam shouted. He snatched up his wand from the cobblestones and pointed it at the elf.
“You would kill me?” the elf said, holding out his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I am the only person left who can help you find the Seventh Moon in a timely manner.”
“Kenshi Zhann crashed on the Talenta Plains,” Tristam said, though he hesitated. Seren quietly picked her dagger up off the street. She glanced around for Shaimin’s weapons but couldn’t find them. When had the elf had time to retrieve them?
“Her condition has much improved,” Marth said. “Captain Marth is preparing her for a final assault as we speak.”
“An assault on whom?” Tristam demanded.
“I want your promise of a truce, Master Xain,” Shaimin said. “I have a stake in this battle as well. I wish to aid you.”
“Aid us?” Seren said. “You were hired to kill us.”
Shaimin sighed. “No,” he said, annoyed. “First of all I was never hired. I was called upon to repay a favor. Second, you were never my objective, Seren. You were never anything but a frustratingly tenacious obstacle. It was suggested that I repay my debt by killing Tristam, but I have since reconsidered.”
“Why?” Tristam asked.
“Because the man to whom I owe that favor is now insane,” Shaimin said. “And, as he intends to destroy the entire political structure of the Five Nations, which indirectly includes House Thuranni, I find his
employ a distinct conflict of interests. Further, I have determined the only way to repay the debt I owe to Marth. That is to defeat the monster that he has become.”
Tristam’s wand did not move. “I don’t intend to stop one monster by allying with another.”
“You are unmoved,” Shaimin said. “Let me speak, then, of details. Not far from this city, Marth has constructed a fortress atop an ancient cavern, apparently the home to a passage of the Draconic Prophecy—though I confess I did not see such a cave myself. He has named this stronghold Fort Ash, a dubious honor for your mutual master. There he completes repairs on the Seventh Moon in preparation for his mad campaign against the Five Nations. I can lead you directly to him.”
Tristam held the wand steady, pointed at the elf’s chest.
“You would be foolish to refuse me,” Shaimin said. “You have little time to decide. Would you let your friends die for nothing?”
“My friends?” Tristam asked.
“I helped Zed Arthen and Eraina d’Deneith discover Marth’s fortress,” Shaimin said. “They perished as we were fleeing from his soldiers. I had returned to search their quarters for any information that might help me find Dalan, but the Knights of the Silver Flame were already there. I thought that the rest of you might appear if I kept watch on the place. I must confess. I am pleasantly surprised at how swiftly my patience was rewarded.”
“You say Zed and Eraina are dead,” Seren said. “Why should we believe you?”
“If I were in any way responsible for their deaths, why would I even tell you that I met them?” Shaimin asked, laughing. “If you are so fragile that you cannot set aside our past and work with beside me for the greater good, then I do not need your aid. Say hello to Dalan for me.”
Shaimin turned his back to Tristam and walked away down the road.
Tristam looked at Seren, still pointing his wand at the retreating elf. “Seren, what do we do?” he asked.
She glanced from Tristam to Shaimin. The elf was dangerous; that much was obvious from their previous encounters. Yet he had a point—if he had wished to kill them he could easily have done so. Dalan seemed to offer Shaimin a strange kind of trust, as much as he trusted anyone. If he really knew what happened to Zed and Eraina, they couldn’t afford to let him leave. He had proved before how easily and completely he could vanish when given the chance.