“Why have you summoned me, Baron?” it asked in its tinkling voice.
“Yes, Mirror Dweller. I have an assignment for you. I do hope that what you promised me a few days ago still stands?”
“Naturally. I keep all the promises I make, human. What is your wish?”
I was aware that I had to reveal my identity to the demon, it will find out anyway once it had seen me in another shape. This seemed unavoidable.
“I need your services regarding a delicate matter. First, I have to tell you that I’m not a human. I’m a shapeshifter,” I said, transforming my face into that of the gang leader. “My real name is Laravende End’horis.”
Its huge eyes reflected a sort of surprise; it remained silent for a second, then started talking.
“It has been long since I met a Zauron, yours is a rare race,” the tiny creature scratched the bottom of its ears, astonished. “Not many of you survived the War of the Races.”
“We were almost abolished from the continent. You must be quite old if you still remember those times.”
“I have a different perception of time, but yes, I’ve been around long enough to watch countless empires form and fold.”
How old can this little beast be?
“If I’m not mistaken, you aren’t the least bit bothered by who I am, right?”
“I don’t care about your identity, only about my precious stones,” it responded indifferently, clarifying its position on the matter.
“I was hoping you would think this way. I will soon need some armed support, since tonight I was the target of a murder attempt. I have found out who ordered the attempt on my life and I am going to meet him soon. Obviously I will take the body of the cutthroat that I am wearing now. In order not to arouse any suspicion, I will have to go alone. He will most probably be guarded by armed people who I will not be able to defeat on my own. I want to find out the reason behind the murder attempt against the baron. Can I count on your help?”
Gideur listened attentively.
“Not a regular case, that’s for sure,” it gently stroked its trunk with its tiny clawed hand. “I will take the task since I had made a promise to you. If you want to call me, you can do it the same way you have done thus far. What is important is to have a mirror in the room. I will recognize you based on the statue in your hand, whichever shape you might take.”
“Thank you, Mirror Dweller. It is important, that this will happen soon, so be prepared to be summoned,” I rubbed my stubble nervously, once again in the body of the baron.
“You cannot give me orders, Zauron. You can only ask me to do things for you! I will may do them, or not.”
“I am sorry if I have offended, I never meant to.”
“Apology accepted. Never forget who you are talking to. You can infuriate me only once, there are no second chances. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
“No, that was all.” I shook my head, my forehead glowing from drops of sweat.
“Farewell to you then. Summon me when you need me.”
“Farewell, Gideur.”
The Alqafka crawled back to the mirror and disappeared from my sight.
In the name of Andor, I have to watch my words in its presence, not to make them the last ones I ever utter. I must to think twice before I say anything to a demon.
I returned to Kirona’s room and lay next to her, delving into my thoughts. She was still asleep and I didn’t want to wake her up. I closed my eyes too so that I could have a few hours of sleep before we had to depart. We were soon woken up by someone knocking on the door.
“Who is it?” I asked, half-asleep.
“It is me, my lord, Hrindel. We should be leaving now if we want to arrive to the Bishop before sunset.”
“All right, we are coming soon. Get the carriages ready.”
“As you wish, my lord.”
“Has the time really passed by so quickly, Telron?” the baroness was turning to me with baggy eyes, she seemingly hadn’t overcome the events of the night yet.
“Unfortunately yes, we have to leave, my dove. I have had enough of this wretched place.”
“You are right, we should leave as soon as possible. I will get ready and change my clothes to a fresh set. I don’t want to seem untidy when we visit the Bishop.”
“I will also freshen up and change clothes, then we leave. Are you feeling better, Kirona?” I asked her, gently stroking her shoulder.
“Yes, I have calmed down – I cried my eyes out but you know me. What about your shoulder?”
“Much better. I can barely feel it, it is only a superficial wound.”
“You know, you were fighting like a hero. I didn’t know you were still this great with the sword,” she was complementing me.
“This old bastard’s still got it in him!”
“That you do, Telron. Did you get anything out of that cutthroat?”
“I have obtained valuable information but I can’t share anything more just yet.”
“What did he say, Telron? Tell me!”
“Give me time, woman! I must unravel the details and weave through any lies. I will inform you of everything later.”
“Fine, my dear husband, if you deem it better like this. I hope you will tell me all.”
“I promise you, Kirona, you will know everything soon enough. Now stop worrying over such violent matters and get ready.”
We got ready to leave, had breakfast, and left the damned inn behind. We got the first glimpse of the high walls of the city and its towers reaching up to the sky early in the afternoon. The fields around the city were filled with diligent peasants and day laborers working in the orchards and ploughlands. The city was busy, the markets were loaded with wares, the hustle and bustle brought the city to life. Butchers were selling freshly cut pig meet and harslet. Master craftsmen were advertising their handmade tools, which are a must have in every good household. Herbalists were selling potions for different maladies, and healers walked the streets, treating the ill. One could buy anything they needed in this city. We were heading towards the Silver Raven district where the noblemen lived, crossing through the main square where a smaller mob had gathered. A bonfire was being prepared around a post, rumours were spreading that a witch would be burnt today.
“Burn the witch!” the mob was shouting.
A prisoner wagon with bars on its windows was staying next to it, guarded by grim looking soldiers. Its door was open, allowing people to see the young chained woman who was looking back at the crowd, shattered. I could see in her eyes that she had accepted her fate which was to be sealed soon. Leaving the square behind, we were approaching the district of the Silver Raven. A wall separated it from the rest of the city, and we were stopped by soldiers blocking our way with their spears.
“Stop! Permission for entrance?” one of the grumpy guards asked.
“I believe that won’t be necessary. I am Baron Telron Muran with my wife. We are guests of the Bishop.” I bent out of the carriage.
“Greetings, sir! I apologize for this unpleasant situation, we have been waiting for your arrival. It is fine, get out of their way, men. Let them enter!” he shouted at his fellow gatekeepers.
Passing through the guards, we headed towards the residence of the Bishop.
CHAPTER FOUR
Heretics
The city of Tizland, where I had arrived a week ago, was a usual southern town in the duchy of Therwold, counting a mere few thousand inhabitants. The local people worked mostly on the fields outside the city walls. The others mainly worked in guilds or merchandised their handmade products on the market. The guards were not kept too busy, apart from a handful of tramps causing trouble, and the town was pleasantly peaceful. Under the seemingly calm surface, however, I knew darker forces were at work. Thanks to the Inquisition’s spy network, we had been informed of strange happenings throughout the city. People would disappear from busy streets, lethal diseases were contracted by some, one day after another. I travelled here with m
y soldiers, as the mandated Inquisitor Master to the duchy of Therwold, tasked to untangle this mystery. What we had experienced was more than suspicious; I was convinced that the witches of the Shadow Sister Coven were staying in the city. I had finished off with more witches than there were fish in the sea, but still, I kept bumping into new ones. Sometimes, I wondered what the point was. There would always be new ones who would choose the dark side. Being a pious man, however, I trusted that if God had set this course for me, I had to follow it until I die or He had chosen another path for me. With the help of Dermeron, we succeeded to find their traces after a few days of investigation. We had to be careful though, since they also had spies of their own. So we dispersed in the crowd, disguised as travellers and mercenaries.
The sun was almost about to completely set behind the horizon. A cool breeze was stroking my face which made me shiver. The increasing wind drifted sinister clouds from the east. I peevishly tightened my weather beaten cape on myself. It was in the thick of the summer, the month of Evron, but the weather could easily trick us up here in the north. The area had seen no rain for weeks. Children were called inside from the street by their concerned parents. Hardworking people were making their way home from the fields, exhausted from work. Some dropped by an inn to freshen up with a mug of ale. At one corner, stray dogs were fighting over some carrion. We had arranged to meet tonight in front of a two-story building in the Street of the Troubadours to tear down the heretics. Decade-long experience as an inquisitor taught me to be extremely careful because they had their people watch the street while they were busy doing their shady works. I wouldn’t have wanted them to slip through our fingers before we could even arrive. I had been a faithful servant of Dermeron, the god of war and courage, for three decades already. I fulfilled his command with armed force, as his consecrated paladin, and in exchange I could count on his help in whatever tight situation I might encounter. Us, warrior monks, were the bastions of faith, its incorruptible soldiers. We relentlessly fulfilled our duties when our obligations required us to, we always responded to the calling of God.
I was walking towards the discussed meeting point, discretely hiding my knight’s sword, as well as the sacred symbol of God in my neck. These could have easily revealed my real identity. I was making the impression of being a common traveller to those locals I passed by. I almost got to the street when a drunken tramp from the crowd bumped into my shoulder. He grabbed my arm, and I was about to instinctively draw my sword from under the cape when he started speaking in a familiar voice.
“Careful, friend!” The bearded man smiled at me under his worn-out deer leather cap.
I realized it was one of my fellows, Larond, from the Dragonheart Order.We only referred to him as Funny.
“Damn it, you surprised me, Funny! I almost pulled my sword on you, you ingrate!”
“I apologize, Master Noan, but I couldn’t stand not playing a joke on you when I saw you were coming towards me, showing no sign of recognition.”
“Of course, it wouldn’t have been you if you hadn’t come up with some absurdity. But you did a good job with your disguise,” I nodded.
“I was trying to be thorough, I believe I have managed it,” he smiled.
“Have you seen the others? Are they here yet?”
“Not yet, but I suppose they should arrive before long,” he said, rubbing his big potato-like nose.
“Follow me. We will keep an eye on the area.”
“Alright, Noan,” he nodded and we left towards the next street.
People were lighting the oil lamps in the light poles one by one, shedding light to the major squares and streets. We turned into a street with stone houses on both sides. The majority of them were one-storey buildings, the residence of civil citizens, and there were some two-storey buildings as well, providing shelter for well-off craftsmen and merchants. We stopped at a certain point, bending against the wall, and began observing the passersby. We spotted three of our fellows disguised as mercenaries not too far away.
There was a man squatting by a gate of the house where we presumed the witches would be.
“Can you see that tramp sitting by that house?” I asked Funny, pointing at the man.
“What about him? He seems like a ragged pauper.”
“He does but I bet he got paid good coin to keep watch for the witches.”
“What makes you be so sure?”
“Look at how he observes the passers-by, he constantly moves his head anxiously.”
“That might be true, now I can see it.” Larond scratched the back of his head.
“Come, let’s walk up and greet him,” I said.
I only noticed as I approached that someone else was watching the street from a window on the first floor. It had completely darkened which had impeded me from noticing earlier. I was about to tell Funny when I noticed a bald man climbing up the wall towards the woman in the window. He was approaching the unsuspicious prey from afar. I recognized that it was one of our fellow inquisitors, Neider, who we called Fist. Being a warrior monk, he had taken part in exhaustive close combat training in his order. He needed no weapons, the weapon was himself, although he rarely showed up without his long staff. I had never seen anyone being more skilled at it than him. I poked Funny with my elbow and nodded in the direction of the man climbing up in order to make him notice too. We pretended to stop to talk and we awaited how the events would unfold. When he reached the window, I whispered a magic spell to evoke the holy power. The noises of the street muted. We started walking towards the man sitting at the gate. As Fist reached the window, he grabbed the arm of the woman watching from the window and with one quick move, he dragged her out of the window, straight to the street. She tried to scream but no words left her lips, she landed on the ground on her back, soundless. The man sitting at the gate stood up, surprised, seeing his fellow falling out of the window. We stepped next to him unexpectedly, I punched him in the nose, Funny hit him at his nape, then he fell on the ground unconscious, without a sound. The Inquisitors knew that I was using a silent spell. We were an experienced team, this was not our first raid. I gave a sign for them to pick up the lifeless spies.
Seven of us formed the team of attackers, Funny, Stout, Father Tero, Freckledface, Handsome, and Fist, who just climbed inside through the window upstairs. The spell was still working so I communicated it with hand signals that we should enter the house. Everyone grabbed their weapons and we lined up at the gate. Not too many passers-by witnessed what we had done. A few quickly went away as they saw us with weapons, but some were curious enough to stay within a safe distance to see what would happen next. The door soon opened and the bald head of our fellow emerged, signalling us to follow him. Entering the building, we saw an unconscious man lying on the ground. The spell finished at that point, so the noises of the city returned.
“Nice job, Fist!” I patted his shoulder appreciatively.
“Thank you, Master Noan! The first floor is clean, I checked all the rooms,” he responded proudly.
“Well done. Now tie all the damn spies and bring them inside, then scatter around the place and check the yard. Go two by two. If you don’t find anything, we meet here downstairs,” I commanded to my team.
The house was elegantly furnished and clean. Nothing suggested that dark practices were conducted by those living here but the surface was often misleading. Holding my knight’s sword in my hands, which I named Loomer, I peeked into one of the bedrooms. The blade was forged for me by the dwarfs of Tarmaria and was made of blue luniar, a rare, magic metal. I named the knight’s sword after its quality of emitting a royal blue light even in densest darkness. I used it now to search the room, I even looked in the wardrobes but didn’t find anything. The others returned soon.
“There is no one here, Master Noan. It’s only us in the house.” Handsome was shaking his head. He got his name because his blonde curly hair always attracted the weaker gender like a magnet.
“Have you scoured through the
basement as well?” I asked, nervously scowling my brows.
“Yes. There is nothing there apart from a few food stores and sacks of grain, the usual supplies,” Handsome replied, loudly cracking his fingers out of anxiety.
“Stop that now, damn it, it freaks me out!” I snapped.
“I am sorry, Master. This is how I relieve tension.”
“Don’t release anything, just show me to the basement. I want to see it with my own eyes.”
“As you wish, Master, follow me.” He turned around and led me to the basement through the yard. The others came after us.
Meanwhile, it started to rain; huge drops were falling on our necks while we were passing through the yard towards the basement. It was thundering, as if the gods were battling above us. Descending the dusty stairs, we arrived to the basement where only a few torches provided some dim light. We got the whiff of damp air as we entered. There was a pantry on the one side, loaded with jars of food and vegetables. Opposite, sacks were piled beside some crates and a large barrel. There was nothing unusual, it looked like the basement of any other house. However, my sixth sense was telling me that a hidden room must be concealed somewhere here where those fucking witches were practising their craft. I started tapping the wall looking for a secret door. I was proceeding slowly, checking all corners.
“Don’t just stand there, you fools! Start searching for that bloody entrance!” I shouted at my fellow inquisitors who were only staring at me, waiting silently. Following my order, they immediately set themselves to examining the wall. A quarter of an hour had passed but our search remained futile.
Faceless: The Takeover (The Shapeshifters Book 1) Page 5