Meuric

by Meuric- Beginnings (epub)

  Bradán looked on, not sure what to feel. He hated the Roz’eli as much any of the Kel’akh people. Yet he felt compelled to respect the Roz’eli officer. The Druid Captain was not sure if even he could have taken the same amount of torment as he obviously had. He prayed that he would never have to find out.

  Rainier smiled but there was no humour in it. “Another good reason to torture you all the more then,” he remarked drily. He turned to Ysolt. “Have someone fetch sears, a vat of vinegar and pitch. Begin to cut off his fingers one by one and then his toes. After each wound is made, place it into the vinegar before applying pitch to stop the bleeding. I am going to see the boy. It is he that this is all about.” He looked to Urbanus. “Let me know what he says… if anything.”

  Bradán turned and immediately moved off as fast as he dared, knowing that the War Band Commander was closing in behind. Rainier had no need to rush, nor worry about creating any noise. The darkness of the mirror approached quickly and Druid Captain burst through it, barely taking even a moment’s pause. He scanned left and right for a heartbeat only. He saw none of the Rabi’a townsfolk and the two guards were still looking to the outside.

  Immediately he raced up the stairs to his left and opened the door to the room where he and Tacitus had been hiding. Quietly he closed it behind him. Only then did he sheath his knives. The senator stepped out from behind a couple of boxes.

  “Well…?” asked Tacitus.

  “He is being held in a room under the house currently being tortured,” answered Bradán in a hurried fashion. “There is no way of getting close to him. If I had a bow maybe I could have taken him out. So far he is bearing the suffering well though.”

  Tacitus looked smug. “He is a Roz’eli officer. He will not talk.”

  Bradán waved the comment away. “Everyone talks but whether he tells them the truth is a different matter.” The noise of a door slamming reached them. The Druid Captain made his way discreetly to the window and looked out. “It is Rainier,” he reported, seeing the War Band Commander cross the village. “He’s going to see the boy.” He immediately made for the door and drew a dagger.

  “Where are you going now?” Tacitus demanded to know.

  Bradán stopped. Opening the door the slightest amount he spied out. “We need to know what Rainier and the boy say to each other.”

  “You will never make it,” said the senator. “Even if they did not know who you were you are still a stranger in this place. Take this.”

  Bradán gently closed the door and turned. He watched Tacitus produce the black sphere, about the size of a palm, from beneath his leather armour. “This will help you travel by magickal means anywhere as long as you know where you are going. All you need is a definitive picture in your head and you will journey there instantly.”

  “My thanks.” Shakily he took the orb. He had never used magick before. “Can this be used to get us away?”

  Tacitus shook his head. “Yes but only for a short distance and only one of us. It can be used as a communication device for a greater distance though. I was going to use it to contact the Dark Druid or Mailís to spirit us both away from here.”

  Bradán smiled at that, recognising the obvious lie. Looking out of the window, the Druid Captain watched Rainier make his way over the dried blood of the dead, towards the Travelers’ Inn. Bradán concentrated. He was preparing an image of the room he wanted to travel to when he suddenly saw the War Band Commander’s swift steps become more hesitant, then come to a stop. He was looking at one of the homesteads to the east as if drawn there. It was then that he realised that the orb in his hand had begun to heat up slightly. He turned to the senator and explained what he was feeling.

  Tacitus nodded. “All things in magick have a connection. The orb recognises when enchantment is being used nearby.”

  Cursing at the new element, Bradán once again spied on Rainier. He watched how the War Band Commander shook his head before continuing on his way. The Druid Captain sheathed his dagger. Having already been in that building on the previous day he knew exactly where he wanted to go.

  Focusing on himself within a particular room in the Travelers’ Inn, he vanished.

  XLIV

  Meuric took a few steps forward, staring at the spot where Faeder and Ladra had just vanished. He grunted, not too sure exactly what to say. He looked to Radha. She seemed equally at a loss. His head was buzzing. There were so many things to consider. So many things were now banding together. The chance for revenge for the murder of friends and family now lay open to him. It would be an end to his own personal quest, assuming that he was to survive the coming days. But after that, then what? Return to his role as a Knight Protector? Kel’akh already had its protector.

  Radha said, “We need to gather supplies and then go.”

  Unhurriedly Meuric turned to face her. “Are we not even going to talk about this?”

  “No,” answered Radha. She turned and made a move for her cabin. “We both already know that you are going to do it.”

  “I do not work for the Council anymore,” said Meuric stubbornly. He searched for a determination that he no longer truly felt. Radha stopped and turned to face him. She was listening now. “I left that life a long time ago. And you need to consider the Religious Conviction. If they find out that you have left Kel’akh, at the very least you may hope that they only strip you of your Gifts. Under their charter they have the right to execute you.”

  “You heard Faeder. We are being hunted. After enough of us are dead it is only a matter of time before Wardens Keep is attacked. An evil goddess controls a man with the same power as a being that the gods pray to. I would think that the Religious Conviction is the least of our worries right now.” At that Radha allowed a chuckle to slip out. But there was no humour in it. She shook her head. “You still do not get it, do you? You never left the Protectorate, Meuric. Do you honestly think that when you left us the Council would have allowed you to retain your Gifts?”

  Meuric shifted uncomfortably. He began to feel foolish and naïve. “At the start I questioned it. But it has been so long now that I have simply believed that they could not rid me of my Gifts. I had even considered that they had allowed me to keep my Gifts to help me find the people behind the attack at Gla’es maybe with the hope that I would return to the Protectorate afterwards.”

  “No, Meuric, you were an experiment,” explained Radha. “You were nothing more than that to them. When you left, some of the Council members argued for the need of a Knight Protector to be free from his usual trappings. He needed to be able to travel to the various lands to support a static Knight Protector if more than one thing was going on, or whenever the mission was deemed too big or important for one man and the Troopers were simply not enough. I believe that it was your old friend the Lord Oak Seer Paden that had pioneered the idea.”

  “The Religious Conviction would not have allowed that,” declared Meuric unnecessarily.

  He had never heard his old friend discuss any such thing with him. But he had become a Conclave’s Council member by the end of his life. He did not have to tell him anything at all if he so wished. The thought that the man who had raised him had kept secrets from him annoyed the former Knight Protector..

  “The Council was split on the idea,” continued Radha. “But after the death of Paden at Gla’es I suppose a few of them had second thoughts. Maybe it was simply the thought of losing one of their own. Maybe it was to honour his memory. Who would know with them? Anyway, the motion was passed and when you refused to come back it was seen as a chance to fulfil that desire. It would seem that you did not disappoint. No matter how far you went, how despondent you became, you still held true to the values and laws of the Protectorate.”

  He looked at Radha dumbfounded. She stared at him expectantly, her eyebrows arched and raised.

  “That was how the Age of Durance started” considered Meuric. “Paden should have known better.”

  Radha nodded. “I have heard others sa
y the exact same thing but now is not the time to discuss the matter.” She turned and continued moving to her cabin. “I need to know if you are with me, Meuric.”

  The former Knight watched her walk away, a small part of him relishing the swaying of her hips. How could he say no? It was the only way to gain justice for the destruction of his people and to save what remaining friends he had left. There was only one possible answer that he could give. Yes.

  “Good,” Radha called back. “Gather some supplies from that outhouse on the right. We have a long ride ahead of us.”

  Meuric smiled and shook his head in feigned submission. He so hated her Gift of Distant Perception. “Wait,” he called after her. “Have you ever been to Rabi’a?” She shook her head. “I have. It is down by Sea Lay’ben. It would take us several days to get there by boat. Over land would take longer still. And that would still mean avoiding Roz’eli patrols. By the time we get there the boy may very well be gone.”

  “That will be too long,” remarked a new voice. “I can get you there much sooner.” The two Knights turned at the new presence. Ladra stood before them. His eyes seemed to linger on Meuric just that little bit longer, as if deciding on something. “I will open a Doorway Narration as soon as the two of you are ready.”

  “Why would you do this?” asked the Daw’ra man suspiciously.

  “Time is against us,” explained Radha. “As the dark forces against us step up their momentum we must do the same to counterbalance that.”

  Radha seemed openly relieved. “My thanks, mage.” She looked to Meuric. “The Link may be gone but I can still use my Gift to connect with the Knight Captain as long as there is no Barring Narration preventing me. Tell him to expect our arrival.” She frowned.

  “What is it?” asked Meuric.

  “I connected briefly to Petros there,” she answered. “I saw a Roz’eli firing squad and what looked like a Kel’akh War Band attacking them. He has the boy.” She looked to Meuric and Ladra. “We had best hurry.”

  “Is Petros in danger?”

  Radha’s frown deepened. “He can feel the presence of something there. It is dark and powerful, more than he has ever experienced before.”

  “I was afraid of that,” warned Ladra. “Mailís is there.”

  XLV

  Petros gazed out of the window from one of the front rooms of the Travelers’ Inn, feeling a lot more comfortable now he was once again fully armed and armoured. From his vantage point he could see Rabi’a’s War Band Commander quickly stomp his way across the open ground from Theirn’s home and official office of power, like a man set on a mission. He watched him slow his pace all of a sudden to come to a complete stop, as his eyes searched to the west. He continued on having not found what he was searching for. The Knight Captain wondered if Rainier had felt the same sudden presence as he had; an unexpected manifestation of incredible power, specifically one of dark energy. A second presence touched him then before he could investigate further.

  We are with you, Petros. Meuric and I are coming to you. We have much to discuss.

  The voice had belonged to Radha, Knight Protector of Kel’akh. The original plan was to meet with her in the Open Folly between Gab’ee and the free Kel’akh territories. To have her leave her guardianship and travel to lands outside her remit on pain of death, implied that something major must have happened. He feared all of a sudden for those all left behind at Wardens Keep, especially for Laban and Zuleika, the two people he loved most in the world. And then there was Meuric… He knew that twice now the former Knight Protector had saved the boy from death. Was there to be a third time shortly? Was that why he was coming?

  Rainier was almost at the Travelers’ Inn now and so Petros left the spartan decorated room and walked out onto the hallway coming to a rest where he had a clear view of the entranceway. He nodded to his team of troopers whom he had placed as added protection. Three of them were downstairs and two were up on the same level as he. The doors were opened by the Rabi’a guards positioned at the entrance and in strode Rainier, his face dark and troubled. He nodded to his men, acknowledging their brisk salutes.

  “Commander,” called Petros from the balcony. “Up here.”

  Theirn looked to the sound of his voice. He found the Knight Captain leaning against the railings of the upper floor, looking down and watching him intently. The area on the ground floor was open-plan, as was the case with all of the Travelers’ Inns. Unless a private room had been reserved this was where customers dining out would eat and drink, and on occasion, fight.

  Petros watched him scan the area noting that three of his troopers sat at different tables, their backs against a wall and all facing the door. Other tables and chairs remained empty and set exactly where they should be, except for where the Roz’eli soldiers had tipped them over when dragging the Jay’keb family and their retinue outside. The Innkeeper could be heard moving around in the back rooms out of sight, trying to get his home and business back in order.

  Rainier bounded up the stairs two at a time and stepped before Petros, openly examining him. Though he wore the clothes of a Kel’akh warrior and carried foreign weaponry which implied that he was an imported hireling, there was something in his manner that suggested he was anything but. He looked more like a professional soldier. Petros could tell that was what he was thinking.

  The Knight Captain’s skin was dark and his eyes were a deep shade of brown. He was slightly heavier set and shorter than the men in Kel’akh, though it was obvious that his build was powerful. His armour was of toughened leather and appeared to be of excellent quality. The weapons that he carried were all of E’del design. A kopis sword of his homeland sat sheathed at his waist. A heavy dagger sat on the opposite side. A small tied bag was also tied to his waist and Rainier recognised this to be a sling along with a number of stones. His doru spear and hoplon shield had been set down to lean against the railings. A leather helm rested under his arm.

  Petros understood that to look at him was to see someone who exuded professionalism. He was strong and proud, powerfully built with a serious disposition and at ease with commanding. He had been a Knight Captain for many years now, a veteran campaigner of hundreds of battles, wars, skirmishes and all things military. He was comfortable with who he was, confident in his ability to lead and a formidable warrior.

  Petros looked at the War Band Commander and instantly recognised a kindred spirit. A man who took his authority seriously, thought about the welfare of the people below him constantly, but always remembered that the mission came first.

  With the boy Abram some distance away the magick from the Cup-of-Plenty once again filled his soul and he revelled in it deeply. The moment he realised that his abilities were gone, when in the close proximity of Abram, had frightened him almost beyond words. He took a breath.

  “We have not been formally introduced,” said the Knight Captain. He held out his arm. “I am Petros of E’del.”

  Rainier took the arm. They grasped wrist-to-wrist. “Well met, Petros.”

  “Well met, Rainier.”

  Petros’s mind filtered unbidden back to his vulnerability. It was not that he had almost died in the village. Over the decades he had almost been killed on countless occasions and he knew that one day his luck would run out. He had understood that when he took up the post originally as a Knight Protector that he would never die of old age. Even with all the abilities and skills that they possessed, they still died in battle and usually quite violently. It was just that he felt so weak and powerless without the use of his Gifts. It was a totally foreign experience and one he hoped never to repeat again. But that was what scared him the most. As long as he had to protect the boy he knew that it was going to happen again and again. And when it came down to it Petros wondered just how effective he would be when having to fight for the child without the aid of his Gifts? Not very effective at all, he decided, judging by the ease of capture by the Rabi’a War Band.

  He looked down onto the ground level,
his mind searching for a distraction. The swordsmen Iacchus and Jabez had been set down there with the mage Nathan positioned in the middle. There was little point in keeping the Kel’akh man of magick upstairs where his magick would not work when too close to Abram. Upstairs, it was the archers Gabija and Kaan who guarded the landings.

  Petros looked at the War Band Commander. He had to admit he was impressed by the man and his men. Although Rainier gave off an air of calm and determination the Knight Captain could see the War Band Commander’s inner turmoil. He understood totally the position he was in and the protectiveness he felt towards the townsfolk.

  “We need to discuss what happens next, my Lord,” said Rainier. “I have my people to think of.”

  “I am no Lord,” stated Petros.

  Rainier smiled. “I thought…” He shook his head. “Never mind. What are your plans now?”

  “We need to leave here as soon as possible,” Petros admitted. “But first there is a friend of yours waiting for you.” He indicated to a nondescript door halfway down the corridor.

  “The boy is in there?” The Knight Captain nodded. Rainier looked hesitantly at the door. “I have heard stories from some of my people.”

  “Probably all true,” laughed Petros.

  The War Band Commander balked before boldly stepping towards the room indicated. The Knight Captain followed closely behind and before he had even neared the room all magick left his body. Rainier stopped and looked back with a serene but quizzical look on his face.

  Petros nodded. “It is the boy. It is the power he exudes.”

  Rainier opened the door pausing only for a moment at the sound of a familiar voice. Petros led the way. Inside they found the powerful dark warrior Anan standing by the window gazing out. He nodded to acknowledge the two warriors’ arrival. The Nan’cho Oak Seer Ulrich stood in the middle of the room, hands clasped behind his back, neither moving nor speaking. He took no notice of the Knight Captain’s or Rainier’s approach. Before the prēost stood the boy Abram, who stood equally still and just as silent. They simply stared into each other’s eyes. A muted silence seemed to have befallen the room. To make any unnecessary noise would have felt inappropriate.