by Tracey Alley
executions to look both separate and accidental. My fear is that those two deaths were most likely just the beginning. That information, together with the growing rumors of a secret army does not bode well for the safety of The Kingdoms. That you were sent here, Tares, a logical choice on Lord Michael's behalf, shows that whoever is behind all of this knows The Tears of Belenus very well. Your death in the prison break would then also be seen as an unfortunate accident, and mostly of your own doing for interfering with Ixlan politics. In so doing someone manages to eliminate virtually everyone who knows anything about this. That’s why we have to get out of here and work together to stop this.”
The huge minotaur looked at Nikolai, his suspicion written openly on his bovine face. Tares had been shocked by the revelation that Lord Michael had actually worked, hand in hand, with the necromancer. Although Tares admitted to himself, realistically he should not have been surprised. Lord Michael, after many years as head of The Tears of Belenus, had begun to realize that the world needed balance. That for the pendulum to sway too far in either direction was the greatest evil of all. Nikolai’s remarks indicated that the necromancer felt the same way. Still, Tares’ distrust of Nikolai, and those like him, who practiced a magic so closely entwined with death and dying, ran deep and he would continue to watch the necromancer closely.
It was Wulfstan who broke the heavy silence following Nikolai's revelations with a deep snort of disbelief. Everyone turned to look at the warrior, and Slade noticed with a sense of shame, the shiny streaks of tears on Wulfstan's face.
“Come on people,” Wulfstan spoke derisively, “Are we really going to take the word of a necromancer? I mean, Slade, you left court to become a druid. You, Tares, you’re a cleric of Belenus. Necromancers are all evil, all perverse and you all know it.” Unconsciously Wulfstan's voice rose as he continued, “You can’t seriously tell me we’re going to take the word of this, this thing. Wake up! He’s the one behind the trap, he’ll get us all killed, that’s what they do.”
“Typical soldier, all muscle and no brain,” Nikolai said sneeringly, “I do not deny my allegiance to Bhaal. I see no reason why I should. Necromancy, in its’ way, is the most natural magic of all and your reaction speaks only to your fear. Probably of all the forms of magic, druidic as well. Don’t trust what you haven’t the intelligence to understand, isn’t that right? You, and all your kind, make me sick. I’m no friend to Belenus, or any of his clerics, but sometimes we end up on the same side.”
“Oh, right. And we’re just supposed to believe you because you say so. Silly me, I should’ve seen that straight away,” Wulfstan shot back sarcastically.
“Listen you muscle-bound idiot…”
“Nikolai’s telling the truth,” once again the unexpected interruption came from Lara. When everyone swung around to look at her the halfling woman suddenly felt profoundly uncomfortable. The tension level in the room was incredibly high and now Lara had everyone staring at her. Without thinking she stepped back, almost tripping over Trunk's large feet. The huge ogre-troll reached out gently and steadied her, leaving one enormous hand resting gently on her shoulder. Encouraged by this show of support Lara began to explain what she knew.
“I used to work for the Silent Hand,” Lara stopped when she saw the others looking at her with revulsion. She should have realized that declaring her previous profession as a thief and assassin now might not be the best timing, given everything that had just been said.
“I swear I'm clean now,” she continued quickly, “Tares will tell you.”
“It’s true. Lara has left the guild; she works now for Lord Michael. That is why we are together.” Tares said. Trunk continued to gently rub Lara's shoulder, comforting her with his heavy touch.
“Lara, I’m sorry,” Slade's voice was gentle, “I didn’t mean to frighten you or make you uncomfortable. I’m just upset and tired, that’s all. Please, tell me what you know.”
“I wasn’t frightened,” Lara said hurriedly, “Anyway, as I said, I used to work for the Silent Hand, that’s how come I ended up in The Northern Badlands. I was supposed to knock off,” Tares growled under his breath at her choice of words, which she quickly modified, “I mean my assignment was to assassinate Lord Michael. That’s how I met him, he’s a lot cleverer than he looks you know,” she added with an ingenuous grin, “he had me figured from the get go.”
Lara paused, remembering. The Grand Knight Lord Michael had meant nothing more than a name to her at first. It was just an assignment like so many others; no reason, no explanation, only an instruction to make it look like an accident. Lara had been in the guild for a long time and was used to following orders without question. She had begun as she always did, by following Lord Michael around, ingratiating herself into his life to figure out the best and easiest way of carrying out her assignment. Lara had never expected to have her whole life turned upside down. Yet in Michael, and Lara always called him Michael in her mind, she saw a good man.
As one of the top assassins in the guild, Lara had found that most of her victims were usually no better than those who hired her. Michael however, was different. What had changed Lara’s life, beyond all recognition, was that Michael cared. Not just for his subordinates or even for the people like him; Michael cared about everyone he came across, including her. After a while Lara had found herself watching Michael, not to gather information but simply watching him and everything she saw in Michael she liked.
When she had finally gone to him and tearfully confessed her true profession and reason for being there, Michael had just smiled and told her that he had known. He had offered her a chance at redemption, a chance for a better life and also promised to protect her from the guild. Lara had joyfully jumped at the chance. She knew she was a bit irresponsible, Tares was always telling her that, but Lara also knew that Michael had shown her a better way and she had vowed never to let him down.
“As I was saying, I was sent north but I know I wasn’t the only one who was sent out. I don’t know exactly how many others there were but from the talk going around I'd say there were at least four other targets besides Michael, sorry Lord Michael,” Lara corrected herself with a quick, apologetic look at Tares, “and all the assignments came from the same buyer.”
Seeing slightly blank looks on their faces Lara explained, “Assignment is someone we’re hired to kill, the buyer’s whoever hired the guild. You do understand what I'm talking about?” Lara asked as the others continued to stare.
“Sorry, Lara, yes we understand, it’s just the implications are a bit…” Slade trailed off as the full horror of Lara's story hit him.
“That means two more,” Nikolai said quietly. There was a long pause as each one of them tried to absorb Lara’s unexpected information.
Although the necromancer already knew a lot of what Lara had just told them, he had not known the exact number of targets.
“Two more at least,” Tares qualified. Once again they all fell silent, each preoccupied with their own thoughts. Tares suspected he knew the identity of at least one of the other targets.
“It has to be my sister and brother, I was one target, my father the other. Lord Michael, obviously someone is planning on destroying Saxenburg.” Despite the fact that Slade had relinquished his position as a prince of Saxenburg, it was still his home. More than that, it was a threat to his family and regardless of what he thought of court life, he loved his family dearly.
Wulfstan's face went dead white at Slade's pronouncement. He felt his heart constrict painfully in his chest as he was forced to admit the logic of Slade's reasoning. His blood was pounding in his ears, beating out a dreadful tattoo of pure fear. His grief and guilt at his failure to protect High King Erich seemed trivial, petty emotions compared with the heart-rending fear and impotence gripping him now. Ursula. Wulfstan knew that soon, if it had not already happened, Ursula would be leaving for The Black Lotus to finish her formal training w
ith Solomon. Wulfstan also knew that one of the conditions of her being accepted as a warrior monk in the famous monastery was that she must make the ritual journey there alone, and unarmed. Thinking of her alone, on the roads, possibly a target of The Kingdoms most deadly assassins, Wulfstan’s fear for her was making it hard for him to breathe.
Finally the gripping, electric fear began to pass leaving white-hot rage in its’ wake. If they had hurt Ursula, harmed so much as a hair on her head they would pay, and pay dearly. Wulfstan's hands were clenched so tightly that the knuckles had turned white. His mind was filled with brutal images of stabbing, hurting, and killing. All he could think about was finding whoever was behind this and tearing them apart with his bare hands. Vengeance. Wulfstan vowed he would work with anyone, even the evil necromancer if he had to, in order to get vengeance. Ursula’s death and Wulfstan was suddenly certain that she must be dead, would be repaid in rivers of blood, no matter what he had to do to achieve that.
“…don’t you agree Wulfstan?” Slade was speaking to him but through the filter of his rage Wulfstan found it hard to concentrate.
“I'm, what?” Wulfstan sounded drunk, even to his own ears,