by Kris A Hiatt
“I wouldn’t try anything if I were you,” Disdane warned.
“Oh, they are too smart for that,” Brental told him. “Now come along.”
Treace looked to Moffred who cautiously exited his cell. Treace followed suit and paused long enough so that Kiril exited behind him, yet in front of Moff.
“Come on,” Brental bade.
Having no other choice, Treace followed Brental around the corner and into the hallway. As soon as he rounded the corner he saw another dead guard on the floor. He was about twenty feet down, but by the pool of blood under him, he was clearly dead.
“You cut him down with quiet efficiency,” Brental explained as they passed the body.
Treace shivered at the thought. His one little lie was becoming a larger one.
They made it to the end of the hall and Brental turned right. Treace thought that they had entered from the left, but he couldn’t be certain.
As Brental led them down empty corridors, they came across a body here and there. So far, Treace had counted nine. At one intersection, he had seen where three men were cut down. Blood pooled on the marbled floor and stained the walls. Each of them appeared to be killed by a single stab to the chest or abdomen. The ones that were stabbed in the abdomen had to have been killed with an upward thrust that would reach the heart or lungs, or else it wouldn’t have proved fatal so quickly. The dead bodies were bad enough, but the writing on the wall was more disconcerting. It appeared to be written in blood. It read:
Shamir, you are next.
“It’s a nice note you left too,” Brental offered, pausing so they all could read it.
Treace didn’t know what to say. Everything was happening so fast and what was happening he couldn’t quite believe.
“I can’t believe you killed all of these people,” Kiril said quietly.
“My dear, I didn’t. The Wolf did,” Brental explained again before moving on.
Treace thought about countering what Brental said, but he knew there was no point in doing so. There was no way Brental would admit to killing his own men. Once this was over, he’d likely be the one to take credit for finding out that The Wolf had escaped. Treace’s one lie was to admit to killing all of these men. He wasn’t sure how he could live with himself for telling that lie, but he reminded himself that he’d at least be alive to tell it.
They were finally led through a kitchen and into a back hallway. Treace was happy to see that there were no cooks or servants that were killed there. He guessed at this hour it would be empty anyway. He thought about the planning that had to go into making sure this went off the way it did. They had done their homework. Late at night, men killed by Treace’s preferred weapon that was nothing like Disdane’s massive sword, and no witnesses. Of course they had inside information of where the guards would be stationed, but still. There had to be risks, and ones that would cost them their lives if they weren’t successful. Why they would go to such risks to save him he had no idea. There was certainly no love between them.
“One more door up ahead,” Brental said, stopping. “But that one you must go through on your own.”
“Does it lead to a room filled with armed men?” Moffred asked dryly.
“Actually,” Brental replied, pulling a coin purse from his waist and handing it to Kiril. “It leads to the ocean. Well, it’s the garbage, water, piss bucket, or whatever else you want to call it balcony, but below it is the ocean. I hope you can swim.”
“What’s this for?” Kiril asked, clearly speaking of the coin purse.
“You took it off of one of the guards you killed,” Brental explained. “You’ll need it to pay for supplies on your trip back. I think you’ll find the amount adequate. There’s a ship about to leave, or so I’m told. You better hurry.”
“Here,” Disdane said, getting Treace’s attention.
The large man thrust the short sword he was carrying toward Treace, pommel first. Treace nearly jumped out of the way, but stopped just short of doing so after realizing it wasn’t an attack.
“You’ll want this,” the large man told him.
“If we are dropping into the ocean, why do I need a sword?” Treace asked, grabbing the sword anyway.
Disdane still held firm the other end.
“Because there’s one last guard stationed on the other side,” Brental said. “If you want your freedom, you’ll have to kill him yourself.”
Treace nearly let go of the sword, but held on despite his surprise at what was said. “You want me to kill an unsuspecting man?”
“It’s not that hard,” Disdane offered, still holding the sword.
“I want you to earn your freedom,” Brental told him. “Surely you had to have known none of you were getting out of here alive. This is your only choice.”
“Do it, Treace,” Moffred said.
It wasn’t that easy for him. It sounded simple. First he had to agree to a lie. He had to agree to tell everyone he killed all of those men on his way out. He didn’t like it, but sure, he could do that. Now he just had to kill one man and they would be free. He was prepared to kill Drokier for the chance that one of them would go free. Now he was presented with the chance for all of them to go free if he’d just kill one man. But, to him, it wasn’t the same. Drokier deserved it. Lying about killing people and actually killing someone was completely different.
“I’ll do it,” Kiril told him, reaching for the sword.
“He does it,” Brental said, stopping her. “Or no one does. We can say we caught you in the act and Disdane killed you in your attempt to escape. Up to you.”
Treace nodded and pulled the sword from Disdane’s grasp. Part of him, a very large part, wanted to attack Disdane and Brental then. But he knew in his weakened state that he’d have no chance. He might be able to get a killing blow on Brental, but he’d be overwhelmed by Disdane in no time. He just wasn’t strong enough. Disdane had to have known that when he let go of the sword.
He turned and headed for the door. Brental shied away as he pushed by him, but Treace ignored the man and walked the several feet it took to get to the door.
He reminded himself that this was the only way to secure their freedom. He didn’t like the idea of killing someone who wasn’t openly fighting him, but if that’s what it took to save the lives of both of his friends, not to mention his own, so be it.
He gripped the sword firmly in his hand and opened the door.
Chapter 24
“I don’t know why we’d stop teaching the core classes before moving on to Path of The Calm,” Kelvrin said, clearly not liking the idea. “We’ve done it that way for a century or more.”
“It is important information,” Edas added in support of Kelvrin.
Drevic had been tossing around the idea to forgo geography, mathematics, and other typical classes taught before a student could move on to Path of The Calm. He knew he should have waited for Yelsn to tell them what he was thinking, but Kelvrin pestered him into it. He regretted it. Both Kelvrin and Edas weren’t too keen on the idea and had been stating their case for the past couple of minutes while they waited for Yelsn to arrive. “It is important information,” Drevic agreed at last.
“Then we should continue to teach it,” Kelvrin insisted.
“Continue to teach what?” Yelsn asked as he entered the room.
Drevic nearly sighed in relief at Yelsn’s arrival.
“Arithmetic, reading and such,” Edas explained.
Yelsn didn’t reply. Instead he looked right at him. Drevic thought he may be searching for clues as to how to weigh in on the conversation.
“I am thinking of cancelling the teaching of what I call the core classes,” Drevic told him.
“I think you should,” Yelsn replied.
“Of course you’d side with him,” Kelvrin spat.
“He is the Archbishop,” Edas pointed out.
“You know what I mean,” Kelvrin shot back.
Drevic didn’t know exactly what it was that was getti
ng under Kelvrin’s skin, but it was clear the man wasn’t himself. He had thought it was simply due to the amount of changes going on as of late, but now it seemed that Yelsn was somehow involved. “I don’t,” Drevic said calmly. “Please, explain.”
Kelvrin looked around, apparently not certain as to how to reply.
“Just speak plainly,” Drevic bade him. “We are all friends.”
Kelvrin looked directly at Yelsn but made no immediate reply.
Drevic thought he understood it then. Kelvrin was jealous that Yelsn had already attained a rank equitable to his. Kelvrin had spent the majority of his life in the College and now Yelsn, a few years younger than Drevic, was now of equal rank. But if that were the case, why didn’t Kelvrin seem to have a problem with Drevic being his superior at such a young age? If that wasn’t it, what was it? Was there a personality conflict between the two men that he had missed?
“Ever since we got here he’s agreed to most of, if not all, of your ideas,” Kelvrin said at last.
“Agreeing with a good idea is a bad thing?” Yelsn asked.
“No, it’s not. But do you really feel as if not teaching proper arithmetic or geography will help? I don’t. I see it as us making the same mistake Nimbril did. He weakened the order with his decision, and we’ll be doing the same if we do this.”
Drevic could see his point of view, but Kelvrin wasn’t seeing the entire picture. Nimbril had weakened the order by purposely selecting individuals who didn’t have the mental capacity to learn the higher magics. When it came down to it, his acceptance of donations were really nothing more than bribes. He took large sums of money from families so that their child would be accepted into the order when they weren’t able to attend on their own merit. Now that Drevic was the leader, he still intended on having aptitude tests to see who the best candidates were to learn magic. Except with the Church, those not capable could still be productive members of the clergy, just not in a magical sense. Granted they would still have to fit the needs of the Church, but it was better to have a chance at something than nothing at all. If anything, that part would make the order much stronger. So the new order wouldn’t be as proficient at arithmetic and geography, they weren’t called upon to use that knowledge in any way once they completed the courses. “Before coming here to Haven, when was the last time you left Kilindric?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Kelvin asked.
“Just answer,” Drevic said patiently.
“A few years. Why?”
“And where did you go?”
“I visited family in Kadenton. You aren’t trying to say I’m trying to side with Brental because I’m from there are you?” Kelvrin asked with an edge to his voice.
“No, no. Settle down,” Drevic bade him. “That’s not it. My point is, you didn’t need geography lessons to make your way back home. I’m not saying geography is a waste of time, but, for our order, what need of it do we really have?”
“My thoughts exactly,” Edas offered the moment Drevic was done speaking. “We aren’t an educational organization anymore. We are a spiritual one.”
Kelvrin’s reply was in the form of rolled eyes, a frown, and a slight shake of his head.
“I disagree,” Drevic told Edas. “Yelsn’s history lessons of the Church have made me realize that we need to realign our teachings with our new role.”
Kelvrin opened his mouth to say something, but Edas beat him to it.
“How so?” Edas queried.
Drevic paused for a moment to allow Kelvrin time to speak if he wanted and spoke when it was apparent that he wasn’t going to. “At this time, with war on the not-so-distant horizon, we need to get as many brothers trained in warding and healing as possible. I still believe some courses should be covered, such as the history of the Church, Kaden, and even the Paths of Magic, but we’ll need to tailor those to our needs.”
“And after the war?” Kelvrin prompted.
Drevic had hoped Kelvrin didn’t ask that question. Not out of fear of answering it, but because he didn’t have an answer yet. That and he thought what remained of normal society after the war could be vastly different than what it was now. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
“So you haven’t decided then?” Edas asked.
“Not completely, no,” Drevic admitted.
“So for now,” Kelvrin began, speaking with a hint of positivity. “We’ll teach what’s needed to help in the war, but afterward we could go back to normal?”
Drevic didn’t think that was the case, but if it allowed Kelvrin some peace of mind, he didn’t think it would hurt to play along. “Possibly.”
“I guess I can live with that,” Kelvrin relented.
“So should I disagree completely so that I don’t offend you further?” Yelsn asked sarcastically.
Drevic’s task was difficult enough. If he didn’t get these two typically unassuming people to find a way to get along, and soon, it was going to be even worse. For now, he just needed them to keep their mouths closed and go about their business. They had little interaction outside of these meetings. “Enough you two. Just the thought of your continued childish bickering is giving me a headache.”
Both men looked down. Drevic didn’t like having to scold adults, but neither could he let them continue to argue about a point that had no bearing on what needed to be done. It was childish and he wasn’t going to stand by and listen to it.
“I’m guessing you have a lesson plan in mind then?” Edas asked, cutting through the awkward silence.
“I do,” Drevic admitted, nodding his head. “I was—”
“Archbishop,” a brother said from the doorway, interrupting the conversation.
“Yes?” Drevic responded, looking over his shoulder at the younger brother. He was actually one of the former acolytes that stayed behind with Yelsn, though Drevic didn’t recall his name just then.
“Sorry for the interruption, but there’s an Exodin here to see you,” the man said with a flushed face.
Drevic was more than happy to end his current conversation to go speak with Exodin, and Heral for that matter. “No apologies needed. We were finished here anyway.” He gave them all a quick nod before leaving the room. He hoped they’d hash out some differences without him, but he was inclined to think they wouldn’t.
“Where’s Heral?” Drevic asked after seeing an older man waiting by himself with no sight of the younger brother anywhere.
“I have not seen him, Archbishop,” the man said.
“Thank you, Brother Wilm,” Drevic said, finally remembering the man’s name. Heral probably went straight for a bath. He wasn’t used to riding and the trip probably was a literal pain in his ass.
“Sir,” was the reply while Wilm bowed.
“Now here’s a man I’ve been waiting to finally meet,” Drevic said, extending his hand to Exodin.
“Archbishop,” Exodin replied, bowing quickly before taking his hand and giving it a firm shake.
“So you’re the famous tutor of The Wolf?” Drevic asked.
Exodin cocked his head slightly and wore a confused look for a moment. The scar running down his nose was more pronounced from that angle and Drevic wondered how he got it.
“Ah, yes,” Exodin said with a look of realization on his face. “But he was simply Treace then. I thought the two of them might be the same person.”
“Two of them?” Drevic asked.
“Treace and The Wolf,” Exodin clarified. “When I first heard of The Wolf, the descriptions matched that of Treace, but I never would have thought him to be the type.”
“I must admit, part of that was my doing. Most of it really, so don’t hold it against him. But that’s a long story for a different day. I’m certain the baron was glad to see you.”
“I haven’t seen Liernin yet,” Exodin replied. “I came straight here. Where is Treace?”
“He’s on an errand near Kadenton at the moment,” Drevic told him. “You’ll be able
to reunite with your protégé in a few days I’d presume. I’m surprised Heral didn’t tell you.”
“We spoke only briefly and I don’t think it crossed his mind.”
Drevic was confused. They had spent at least a week traveling back together. Now that he thought about it though, Heral wasn’t due back for another few days.
“That’s why I asked for Treace,” Exodin said, obviously seeing confusion on his face. “Your man—Heral—he’s still in Lake City. Treace’s mother is sick. He went to try to heal her.”
“Lucky for her then. Heral is one of our stronger brothers in that regard.”
“Let’s hope,” Exodin said without much confidence.
“You don’t sound optimistic,” Drevic told him. Exodin was a warrior, not a magic user. He probably didn’t understand that healing magic could cure most diseases. If she was ill, Heral would be able to take care of the problem.
“Your healing magic doesn’t work on the mind. Or so I’m told.”
“And that’s her dilemma?”
Exodin nodded his head.
“Is it bad?”
Exodin nodded his head again.
Drevic’s heart sank. If Treace’s mother had a brain disease, Heral’s magic would be of no use. “It’s true. If it is indeed an issue with her mind, there’s nothing we can do.”
“Then Treace needs to go home. Can you send a messenger to him?”
“I’m afraid not,” Drevic replied. He wished that he could. He wished he knew how he and Moff were fairing. He was surprised to realize he hadn’t thought about them much since their departure. With everything going on with his transition from the College to the Church, he didn’t have much time for anything else. He scolded himself for forgetting about them and reminded himself that he’d need to do better in the future. They deserved better.
“Is there anything we can do?” Exodin asked.
Drevic could see pain on the man’s face. He presumed it was as much for the mother’s predicament as it was for Treace. He had heard Treace’s accounts of the type of person Exodin was, but seeing the man bothered so by these events and his lack of ability to help showed Drevic that Treace was not wrong in his estimation. The man that stood before him was one of quality. “We wait.”