by Jason Parker
She hesitated but nodded her head in agreement. Wexworth donned the headpiece, flipped a couple of switches on the control panel, and then focused on the frame of the device.
An opaque mist developed within the frame until the lab fixtures and equipment on the other side were no longer visible. Slowly the mist began to dissipate and was replaced with the orange glow of the late evening summer sun. The sun was descending behind a distant forest of trees. The foreground was a patchwork field filled with pastoral greens, yellows, and browns. Wildflowers peppered occasional splatters of red and violet. Shadows cast by the trees performed a spirited dance across the colorful mosaic as they swayed in a gentle breeze.
Lancia gasped and he smiled as he noted her staring speechlessly at the scene within the frame.
“Daak, is the location fixed?” he asked, looking toward a dark haired technician.
Daak inspected several of the gauges and meters on the control panel and adjusted a few dials. “Yes sir, the location will hold.”
Wexworth removed the headpiece and replaced it on the hook. Offering Lancia his arm and motioning toward the frame, he asked, “Shall we?”
A look of trepidation briefly crossed her face, but she accepted his arm and allowed him to escort her toward the frame. Once they crossed the threshold, she immediately dropped his arm, stared wide-eyed at the surroundings, and then turned around to look back through the frame. Turning with her, Wexworth saw the lab they were just standing in visible within the confines of the frame. Daak glanced up from the control panel and gave them a thumbs up sign.
“Sir,” a voice called from their left. “Should I let the Lady Sennara know you have arrived?”
“Yes,” Wexworth said looking at the muscular young man clad in a dark green keratium military uniform. He was one of Jurg’s men, but Wexworth did not recall his name.
As the young man receded around the ruins of a large stone building, Wexworth looked at Lancia. Her eyes were darting around and confusion was written on her face. “Where are we exactly?” she asked in a weak voice.
Wexworth understood her disorientation. He felt much the same the first time he traveled through a portal. “We are in Egenton,” he said. “If you walked to the other side of these ruins you would see Castle Delon not far away. We are in a deserted part of the castle grounds. My man has gone to fetch Lady Sennara, a close advisor to King Vonador. I have a proposal for you, but I think it best to wait for the Lady before delving into the details.”
“I’m aware of who Lady Sennara is,” she said, her face darkening. “This is highly presumptuous of you to draw me into such a meeting without my knowledge or consent.”
She began walking back toward the portal. “Stop,” he yelled as his anger began to flare.
“You do not use that tone with me,” she roared spinning around, her face so full of malice he hardly recognized her.
He smoothed his waistcoat and stared at his distorted reflection in the shine on his polished black boots. “I beg your forgiveness, Lancia. I’m afraid I have overstepped my bounds—please, I implore you to hear what Lady Sennara and I have to say.”
He continued to look down and after a brief moment he traced the line of grass to her adornment and slowly gazed upward toward her face. Her expression had softened and her beautiful countenance had returned.
Unexpected tears began to well in his eyes. Another side effect of the brain fluid solution, he thought. Unpredictable emotional responses. He turned away blinking and fought to regain his composure.
“I owe you an apology as well,” she said soothingly. “You caught me off guard. My reaction was too strong. You have never given me reason to doubt you. I will hear you out.”
Almost on cue Lady Sennara rounded the ruined building with the young mercenary in tow as well as two of her own guards. She was dressed simply but elegantly in brown slacks and a forest green blouse. Her grey-streaked dark hair was pulled back into a neatly coiffed bun. Aristocracy oozed from her pores and carried its scent on the air around her.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, High Priestess,” she said with a respectful nod.
“Likewise,” Lancia responded, returning the nod.
“If you don’t mind, I suggest we dispense with further pleasantries and get to the heart of the matter,” Sennara said.
“Yes,” Lancia responded, her lovely features smooth and unreadable.
Lady Sennara glanced at Wexworth then back to Lancia. “When Wexworth was here in Egenton on his poorly disguised fishing expedition last spring,” she said, raising an eyebrow in his direction, “he approached me with the prospect of transferring his talents to Delon in exchange for what he deemed to be fair compensation. I’ll admit I was intrigued by the notion. We have not had a Master Scientist in our court since Micare died several years ago, but I was nonetheless skeptical of his sincerity.”
“My Lady,” Wexworth interrupted. “I assure you I was quite serious. In fact…”
“Wexworth,” Lancia said, raising her voice above his. “Please, let’s not digress.”
“In any event,” Sennara continued, “I did not hear from him again until he unexpectedly appeared at the castle gates ten days ago requesting an audience with me.”
Wexworth put his hands on his hips and glared at the women. He silently fumed at being excluded from the conversation. The entire matter was, after all, his idea.
Sennara swatted at a flying insect. “Needless to say, it has been a busy ten days. Recent events will be clearer, though, if you understand some of what has transpired in the past few months.” She shifted her gaze to Wexworth. “Then I will leave it to you to explain the finer details of our proposal.”
Wexworth nodded, pleased with Lady Sennara’s subtle acknowledgement that it was he who held the cards in this matter, not her.
Sennara returned her attention to Lancia. “Shortly after Wexworth’s initial visit, myself and several other courtiers came to believe we gave insufficient credence to Whitestorm’s plea for aide. Obviously, she convinced the Triumvirate to send Wexworth to at least make further inquiries. In addition, we began to receive increased reports of disturbances in Marn and the Northern Territory. We petitioned the King to provide us with a military platoon to investigate. He granted us a squad of five soldiers.”
Lancia stepped forward. “Five—”
“Yes. A week later, the squad leader returned with the four heads of his comrades and a message from the man claiming to be Lord Vladrik. The squad leader confirmed Whitestorm’s tale and said Vladrik wished to meet with a delegation from Delon but warned him to be sure someone worth speaking to was sent or he would return something worse than a set of heads.”
Wexworth looked at Lancia and her at him. She shivered slightly and then crossed her arms.
Sennara eyed her. “Despite the obvious danger and not knowing what to expect, I volunteered to lead the delegation. I traveled with a small escort of three men, all highly trained soldiers. When we encountered Vladrik and his army of transformed human creatures they were everything our traumatized squad leader described and worse. Imagine your worst nightmare and increase it a hundred fold. My men were little more than play things to Vladrik. He forced me and the commander of my escort to watch as he viciously slit the throats and consumed the blood of the other two. Worst of all was his voice. The memory of his voice keeps me awake at night. It fills you with desire and fear. It makes you do things, terrible things, against your will.”
Sennara paused. Then she quivered as tears trailed paths down her cheeks. Lancia immediately sprang to her side, grasped her hand, whispered what Wexworth suspected to be words of comfort, and finally pulled her into an embrace.
“Your pardon,” Sennara murmured, as she released Lancia, breathed deeply, and dabbed her eyes with the sleeve of her blouse. “Vladrik told me his primary concerns were the southern nations. Delon was secondary. He said aside from a couple of minor targets, he would spare Delon on his march south if we could,
in turn, provide something of value to him. He said to consider our offering carefully and wisely. He warned if we presented something as mundane as coin, provisions, or weapons he would respond by razing Delon to the ground, starting with Egenton.”
Lancia clenched her fists. “This man could not possibly be the Vladrik of legend. He is using the name to inspire fear. Did you consider a military response?”
“We discussed the option with King Vonador,” Sennara replied. “He was reluctant, however, to engage in an all-out war before exhausting other options. Whether he is truly Vladrik reborn or a pretender doesn’t matter. He has built a substantial army from what were once the ranger tribes. They are savage, untiring, and single minded. They can replenish their ranks simply by transmitting the disease to their opponents. From what I understand, the Triumvirate’s own reconnaissance mission met with tragedy and offered a similar report. Quite frankly, I don’t believe this to be a battle we could win.”
“So, have you made your offering to appease this Vladrik yet?” Lancia asked in a tone that Wexworth interpreted as contempt.
“No, not yet,” Sennara replied choosing to ignore Lancia’s disdain. “We were unable to find anything we believed to be adequate until Wexworth arrived with his remarkable invention.” She pointed to the portal a few feet away.
“Wexworth!” Lancia exclaimed. “You intend to hand your device over to Lady Sennara so she can then give it to a sadistic maniac?”
“Well, not precisely,” Wexworth said, unable to meet her venomous gaze as he shuffled his feet. “My thoughts were more along the lines of allowing him to use it.”
“Well, in that case, then by all means,” she raged sardonically, “allow him to use it. Allow him easy access to destroy the Church, your lab, our home!”
“Please, High Priestess,” he implored, still unable to look at her directly. “Allow me a moment to explain.”
Lancia stared at the portal. “I should walk through that thing and instruct your technician to close it behind me and leave you stranded here.” Her voice was calm, but frigid. “Out of respect for our relationship, I will listen to your explanation. Make it good.”
Wexworth was certain his lab crew would never close the portal on him at her behest. They feared him more than they feared her. He did, however, find himself suddenly aroused by her icy tone and indignant posture. Once again, he had to make a conscious effort to suppress his urges.
“Even before I knew of the plight of Lady Sennara and Delon,” he began, “I intended to propose some manner of agreement between us. We spoke in the spring and I was left with the notion King Vonador would offer more for my services than what I’m currently receiving from the Triumvirate. This, in turn, would provide more funding for my research and superior equipment.”
Lady Sennara nodded then looked to Lancia.
Wexworth drummed his fingers on his cheek. “Aside from Lord Vergilus, I have always felt underappreciated and constrained by the members of the Triumvirate but, here, I believe I would have the opportunity to truly thrive. I wanted to explain this to you and Lord Vergilus and demonstrate how you could both benefit if you joined me. Lord Vergilus would have an inside voice in the negotiation of unification between Delon and the Triumvirate. The Church would have an unprecedented foothold to allow true expansion into Delon.”
Wexworth noticed Lady Sennara bristle at this. He had not discussed all parts of his plan with her, but now she was at his mercy and had little choice in the matter. Silence to objections.
Lancia’s expression remained unchanged, her gaze fixed and unwavering. Wexworth confidently looked into her eyes and proceeded. “This was to be the agenda for our meeting, but unfortunately, before we could get started, I fell ill and Lord Vergilus made it clear he considered me little more than an object for his amusement. He proved to be no different than the rest of the Triumvirate.”
“Go on then…” Lancia shifted her weight to one leg.
“I felt urgency was in order. As soon as my illness passed, I worked feverishly to refine the portal control solution to be compatible with my specific brain chemistry. I needed to take control of my portal device before Lord Vergilus and the Triumvirate confiscated it from me.”
Sennara stepped closer to the two of them and her guardsmen followed. A sudden breeze stirred the air as twilight descended upon them.
“I performed a few tests to validate my success,” Wexworth continued, “and then opened a portal here to discuss opportunities with King Vonador and Lady Sennara. Imagine my astonishment when the Lady told me of their unfortunate plight with Vladrik. Luckily, I was able to bring an expedient solution to the table and we were quickly able to negotiate a mutually beneficial agreement.”
Once again, Lady Sennara bristled at his words but said nothing. Lancia momentarily shifted her eyes toward the Lady but, too, remained silent.
Wexworth spoke quickly in an attempt to stave off creeping tendrils of nervousness and doubt. “Of course, High Priestess, an unnegotiable condition of my agreement was that you would be able to relocate here and construct a new cathedral on these very grounds with the full endorsement of King Vonador.”
“My dear Wexworth,” Lancia said, looking at him with what appeared to be a hint of sadness. “I do wish you had come to me first.”
Before he could respond, she shifted her attention to Sennara. Iciness pervaded her temples. “You do realize your plan will condemn all the innocents of the south nations to death or possibly something worse?”
“I’m…aware of that possibility,” Sennara responded, shifting uncomfortably. “But as Vladrik stated, he plans to invade the Triumvirate nations, whether he destroys Delon along the way or not.”
With a bitter smile, Lancia said, “I understand your efforts for self-preservation, but if Vladrik has use of the portal device, the Triumvirate will be caught unaware. They will have no time to prepare an adequate defense to allow for a chance of holding their lands and protecting their people. If the Triumvirate falls, do you truly expect Vladrik will allow Delon to stand independent?”
Sennara hesitated, and then shrugged. “We have sent an envoy to Euphastis to discuss an alliance with Queen Aedana.”
“Ah, the military might of Tuvir,” Lancia laughed. “Leave no stone unturned, I suppose. But the Tuvir military was created to defend against the creatures from the Stoneskull Mountains. Aedana cannot fight battles on two fronts.”
She waved her hand dismissively then eyed Sennara. “Are you certain the portal device will satisfy Vladrik’s terms?”
“Yes,” Wexworth chimed in. “Lady Sennara and I showed him a portal and he was quite impressed.”
Lancia’s jaw dropped. “He’s already seen it—”
“Hold on.” Sennara put her hand up. “He has given us until the next full moon to deliver the device, or at least bring it here. That is only four nights from now.”
“As a sign of good faith, he granted my request to take one of his warriors to my lab for study,” Wexworth said gleefully.
“So you have one of the infected in your lab, right now? Lancia asked with an arched eyebrow.
“Yes,” he said. Sensing the High Priestess was less than pleased he quickly added, “Chained and muzzled, of course.”
“Come Wexworth,” Lancia sighed. “What has been done has been done. I have much to ponder and need to seek guidance from Keyaul. You will know our answer soon, Lady Sennara.”
Without waiting for a response, she walked briskly toward the portal. Wexworth offered a quick bow to Lady Sennara and rushed to catch up with her.
CHAPTER 25
Shadow pulled open the top drawer of her bureau. She grabbed a navy blue casual shirt, a keratium camisole, a small knife and shoved them into her backpack. She could hear her brother, Shroud, pacing and packing in the other bedroom of the cramped apartment that served as both their living quarters and office. The apartment was on the top floor of a two-story building that housed the Ram’s Horn, a tavern on the str
eet level. The Ram’s Horn was an old, middle-of-the-road pub near the heart of Crossroads. Two horns nestled themselves over the archway and the mahogany bar was inlaid with polished, copper scarabs. The wooden tables were worn but well-maintained. The tavern’s customers were honest and hard-working and loyal—the type of clients Shadow and Shroud preferred to work with.
A letter from Dagan Garris arrived the previous evening requesting their services and offering to pay twice their usual rate. The only catch was they needed to be in Brighton by tomorrow evening. Barely enough time. Dagan was definitely not typical of their clientele, yet he had hired them on a few occasions to conduct investigations. The jobs were all fairly simple and Dagan always paid them above their standard rates. This job concerned a familiar subject, Jalen Logan, now known as Nightlocke. They had previously investigated him for Dagan but this assignment was a little different—one they would typically reject. It was akin to a glorified babysitting mission, but the money was too good to refuse.
“Are you almost ready?” Shroud projected through the psychic rapport they shared. “Our steam coach leaves in about an hour.”
“Yeah, let’s get out of here,” she returned as she slung the backpack over her shoulder and ran her fingers through her thick mane of dark curly hair. The high level of dense moisture in the air made it even more unruly than normal. No time to do anything about it now.
The station was a fifteen-minute walk from their apartment and smack in the middle of town at the intersection point of the five major roads that traversed it. From the intersection point, Crossroads expanded outward in all directions into a disorganized maze of warehouses, inns, taverns, and shops. Residential areas were primarily on the outer perimeter. Anyone who lived within the city resided in upper story apartments similar to theirs.
They secured passage on the earlier of two steam coaches destined for Lyraton. They would arrive late in the evening and, if they were lucky, might find transportation departing for Brighton soon after. They would, most likely, rent horses in order to ensure they were in Brighton by early the next evening.