by MJ Blehart
*****
Cam Murtallan lay still a while. Eventually, he heard only the steady breathing of the sleeping Princess, and the soft hiss of a blade being run over a sharpening stone.
Quietly, he sat up on the pallet once more. Dak hadn’t bothered to relight the candle, and he worked in the dark. Cam crossed his legs beneath him, and took several deep breaths, quietly releasing them.
He had not expected to live to this night.
His current situation had come as a total surprise. He was prepared to die. He was ready to do so in the most dignified manner he could muster. And then, from nowhere, he was saved.
Cam Murtallan had never really believed in luck, or fate, much as he did believe in the destiny he saw before him. For some reason, he never equated that destiny to those concepts. To his own astonishment, he found himself reanalyzing those beliefs. Never before had he been in such a desperate situation, devoid of any choices, and able to find a way out anyhow.
After all that had transpired, Cam was uncertain what the future could hold for him. His original mission now seemed pointless. If, however, it was possible to regain his powers, he was certain it would take time and persistence. He did not doubt that it would be a difficult task.
He still did not know what had happened to his power, or why the webbing was there. Yet he was determined to find out.
Cam slowed his heart and his breathing way down. He sank into himself again, to investigate his power.
In this state, he perceived himself as a small creature, confronting the globe of light trapped inside the web. The power within. The globe was the size of a large boulder like this. He could make himself smaller, to scrutinize his power closer. But he found this to be the best way for him to work.
Concentrating, more then he ever had before, Cam found the hole he’d made. It was barely a centimeter, but it was there, allowing him very limited access to the power. To his dismay, it had shrunk some. Probably from his earlier outburst.
The webbing shifted faster now. He could not lose his calm again. Cam forced himself to take a deep breath, and gain back his control. He found that it was not so hard to do this time.
He paused, allowing a moment of stasis. Starting out slowly, he methodically probed at the breach. Cam once more ignored the power seeping out, begging to be held and caressed and used.
Softly, exercising more patience than he ever had in his life, Cam began to work at the fissure. Slowly, he gently pulled the webbing away. As he did so, he felt a tingling sensation starting at his hands and running up his body. It took tremendous effort and concentration to do it gradually. But soon, the hole was the size of a half silver piece, about four centimeters.
Cam returned to himself, opening his eyes. Dak had relit the lamp, and Lyrra-Sharron lay peacefully upon her pallet, still asleep.
It had felt like only minutes had passed. But Cam instinctively knew that it was just past sunrise. He had worked through the night, with little success.
But he reconsidered that. He had increased the access to the mysterious magical energies by four times. The success was not to be played down. Cam Murtallan would teach himself to be patient if he could.
A realization came to him then. Being a Sorcerer did not mean he knew everything, as he once believed. Maybe he actually had something more to learn.
Cam glanced over to Dak, and found him looking at him directly.
“Cam Murtallan,” Dak said quietly. “I lit the lamp, noted you were barely breathing.”
“Meditation,” Cam replied. “I’ve been meditating on my power since my imprisonment. Probably the only thing that kept me sane.”
“The King does not treat prisoners well, Cam Murtallan. I can see the damage he caused from the way you move. The standard tortures?”
“Not something I care to dwell on, my Lord Dak,” Cam stated, shuddering slightly. “The nightmares will probably plague my sleep for years. You might as well stop calling me Cam Murtallan as well. Cam will do.”
Dak inclined his head in acknowledgement. “You may call me Dak. Max has not yet visited us. I don’t expect to hear from him until the soldiers leave the streets.”
Cam unfolded his legs, letting his feet touch the ground. Slowly, he arose. The pain in his thigh was almost non-existent, now. “That’s better. I appreciate you curing my wound.”
“It would have been fixed by you eventually. I didn’t know Sorcerers could heal.”
“From what I’ve read, not all can. And it is one of the simplest skills, too. But it seems to be considered a lower form of Sorcery by most,” Cam replied.
“Do you know many Sorcerers?”
Cam began to walk around, avoiding Lyrra-Sharron’s pallet. “No. I came unto my power on my own. But I’ve read as many books as I could get my hands on. I know some about the old ways.”
Feeling somewhat emboldened, Cam took a new line of questioning. “And what about you? Why do you fight with the Princess and her raiders?”
Dak leaned back, crossing his arms. “That, Cam Murtallan, is a story for another time. Suffice it to say, I believe in her. That’s all you need know.”
Cam sat down at the table across from Dak. He left that hanging, chose to say nothing more.
Cam studied the man across from him. He leaned on the table some, looking at Dak. “We’re very similar, aren’t we, Dak Amviir? Both of us are suspicious of others, willing to trust no one. We’re both alone, without friends. I see it in your eyes. I know that look.”
Dak’s expression never changed. “Do not assume you know anything, Sorcerer. I believed taking you was a mistake. Until you prove me wrong, my opinion will not change.”
Cam grinned ruefully at that. His own response to anyone making such a statement would have been identical. “As you will then, Dak Amviir. What’s our next move?”
“We leave Gara-Sharron and rejoin the Falcon Raiders. We have much work ahead of us. And you are a part of it now.”
“So I gather,” said Cam. “What do you need me to do?”
Dak handed Cam a knife and a sharpening stone. “This will be yours. Sharpen it.”
Dak reached across the table, grabbed Cam’s wrist. “Know this. If you ever use it upon me or mine, you will be dead before you can blink.”
Cam felt a brief moment of anxiety, fully aware it was no idle threat. He bobbed his head once in acquiescence, and Dak released his wrist.
Dak continued. “We wait for Lyrra-Sharron to awaken, and for Max to update us. When it’s time, we leave.”
He was not being very courteous, but Cam did not care, and found himself appreciative of the man’s honesty.
Cam would join these Falcon Raiders. As he continued to work to regain his powers, he would help them.
Dak understood what he would not give voice to, Cam was certain. The Sorcerer was only with the Falcon Raiders until he could continue on his way, to his own ends.
The Falcon Raiders would give him a purpose, while Cam Murtallan worked to reclaim his power, and fulfill his destiny…if he could.
*****
In the highest tower of the palace, King Varlock-Sharron Anduin paced. He had not slept the night, waiting for news of the search. Now, almost an hour past sunrise, he was alone.
The study was actually new, once a pleasant cell for noble prisoners. But Varlock-Sharron felt the room could serve a higher purpose. Ever the student, he had converted it to a private office, with shelves upon shelves of books, small machines and mechanical devices on various tables, and a large desk, now cluttered with writing materials and assorted papers.
The King let out a slow breath, and moved to the window, looking out over the palace grounds and across to the mountains westward. His children had been fond of this room. They had all studied here as well.
Of course there was another, official library in the royal apartments. But this place was one of the few where the King could be truly solitary. Only Lord Tulock and Lady Ara were allowed here. His guards knew enough to allow no ot
hers to disturb him.
There was a sharp rapping upon the heavy door. Varlock-Sharron turned from the window. “Enter,” he called.
Lord Tulock Oran came in. He, too, had clearly spent this night awake. “They are gathered in the council chambers awaiting you, my liege,” he said simply.
The King acknowledged him, and picked up his cloak from a peg by the door. “Do you know if they found her?”
“I don’t believe they have, my king.”
“A pity. Let us go.”
Together, they descended the stairs. Lord Tulock opened the door for his King, and the pair of guards outside saluted crisply, falling in one behind and one in front. They marched smartly, quickly reaching the conference chambers.
Captain-General Callan, Constable drey-Sharron, Sir Garvol and General Bodrir stood around the conference table. All turned to salute as the King entered.
“Report, my lords.”
These four men knew their King well enough to not mince words. “We have turned up nearly nothing, your Majesty,” stated General Bodrir. “We’ve found a few smugglers, several brigands in hiding, and about a half-dozen deserters of the Army and Navy. No Falcon Raiders, no sign of your daughter or the Sorcerer.”
“My men continue to be on alert,” reported Constable drey-Sharron, “and we’re keeping a watch on a few suspected trouble makers. Street patrols will be triple today. If they’re still here, they’ll not leave.”
“We will keep Guardsmen on patrol as well, for the next couple of days. They’ll be available to assist both Val and Malov’s men. If they have not left, we will find them,” remarked Captain-General Callan confidently.
“Garvol?” the King asked.
“My liege, the prisoners have not talked. Yet. But I don’t think the merchant Kurr will last much longer. He has confessed to being a Falcon Raider...he will speak more soon. Your best Inquisitor will begin on him this morning, if you agree.”
The King nodded his head in accord. Varlock-Sharron returned his attention to the General, the Constable, and Captain of his Guard. “The situation is nearly intolerable. My lords, if they are still in this city, and they manage to leave, I will be extremely disappointed. I count on you for the security of my Kingdom, and you have never failed me before. You have underestimated them up to this point, and they have taken advantage of this. They must be stopped. See to it there is no way for them to escape.”
He considered something more. “I, too, have underestimated my daughter. Therefore, in case they find some way out, let us not be caught up short. General Bodrir, increase patrols within a few miles of the city. I am taking no chances here. I want them, dead or alive.”
All three acknowledged his commands.
King Varlock-Sharron turned to Lord Tulock. “Very well. Tulock, cancel my appointments for today. I have other things to do. See to it the gates are open. Let my citizens return to work. Also, I will need a few hours to myself in my apartments. Make certain I am not disturbed.”
“As you command, your Majesty.”
The King turned to leave. But before he did, he looked back. “One last thing, my lords. Princess Lyrra-Sharron of House Anduin is no longer under royal protection. Make that official. She is to be treated as a common brigand and rabble-rouser. Is that clear?”
Chapter 9
Lyrra-Sharron sat at the table, eating a small piece of bread. Dak had packed up the last of his gear again, and Cam Murtallan sat cross-legged on his cot, eyes closed.
The merchant Max had come down about an hour ago, bringing food and promising disguises. The city was already being reopened, but there were more constables and Guardsmen on the street than ever before, so he claimed. There would be no easy way out.
“What is taking him so long?” asked Lyrra-Sharron impatiently.
“He won’t send us off until the time is right,” stated Dak. “He must find disguises, and the streets must be clear.”
“I do not like waiting around here,” remarked Lyrra-Sharron simply.
“We haven’t much choice,” said Cam, opening his eyes.
Lyrra-Sharron glared at the Sorcerer. “Do you always pretend to meditate so you can eavesdrop, Cam Murtallan?”
The Sorcerer grinned ruefully. “My dear lady, no one could possibly meditate with you complaining so loudly.”
Before she could respond, the door slowly swung open, groaning as though in protest.
Cam moved surprisingly swift, his knife drawn as he crouched along the wall. Dak and Lyrra-Sharron were also drawing weapons, but relaxed when Max Parcall entered.
The merchant looked frightened, his eyes wide, hands shaking. “We have a problem. I sent a messenger over to Kurr’s, and found it was locked up tight. He and his wife are not there. I did some checking, and rumor has it he was captured yesterday, and they took his wife in the night. We’re in terrible trouble if they talk. We’re done for if they talk. What have I gotten myself into? What are we going to do?”
“Get a hold of yourself, Max,” said Dak calmly, walking over to the merchant and placing his hands on his shoulders. “It’s alright. You and your wife will depart with us.”
“I can’t leave! My shop! My possessions! My home! How will I make my way? I’m too old to start again!”
“Max, think a moment. You knew this might happen. You have funds. You have family outside of Gara-Sharron. You have connections, too.”
Dak was speaking slowly to the man, as if instructing a witless child. “Move smartly. We have to go now, before Kurr is broken.”
Max continued to shake, but nodded his head up and down slowly, mutely.
“Head back upstairs, but keep this door open. We’ll avoid the shop and come up to your quarters. Then we’ll all leave together.” Dak was calm, his tone unchanging.
Max’s head never stopped bobbing up and down, mute, as he turned and walked up the stairs, leaving the door open.
Dak turned to Lyrra-Sharron, his tone all business. “Kurr won’t last long. We have to move out, and now.”
Lyrra-Sharron inclined her head. “I have a plan. But it will take some serious coordination and careful timing. It will not be easy.”
“Is this sort of thing supposed to be?” asked Cam wryly.
“Go upstairs, Cam Murtallan. I am right behind you. Dak, seal this place up and follow me. We have things to do.”
*****
There was no way to avoid the various soldiers, Guardsmen, constables and unseen lurkers. They were everywhere. Never before had so many armed forces of various commands of the Kingdom of Sharron patrolled the capital. It was nerve wracking...but they couldn’t let that show.
Lyrra-Sharron glanced all around. This was very unusual, and she was not completely prepared for this kind of situation. Growing up in the palace, the daughter of the King was given the finest education money could buy. She had learned much about politics, as she was groomed to one day rule this Kingdom. So it was she knew how her father would be forced to react...and that he would have to leave his city opened, even if he had to do a better job of patrolling it.
Her companions were moving in the same direction, but from different locations. Lyrra-Sharron walked with the Sorcerer, Cam Murtallan, at her side. He was dressed now in a fairly nice tunic of dark blue cloth, and a black vest trimmed in silver. His hair was down, somewhat spread out to obscure his face.
Lyrra-Sharron wore a dark tunic and vest similar, and her hair was also down. She wore a large cavalier hat with several colorful feathers, and breeches. A person would have to get particularly close to her to notice that this was a woman, not a man.
They followed the merchant Max and his wife at a respectable distance, looking for all the world like household guards. That was the disguise. They were certain that Max and his wife hadn’t been implicated by Kurr, yet, and for now Lyrra-Sharron and company were still relatively secure. That was expected to soon change, though for the time being they felt safe enough walking the streets…in as much as the most wanted fugitives
in the nation could feel a sense of safety.
They were not far from the residence they had spent the night in. If anyone asked, Max claimed he was going to check on some interests he was considering purchasing from a sick friend near the north wall. Merchants of Max’s type, buyers and sellers of practically anything non-perishable, were not necessarily expected to spend all the time in their shop.
Dak was likely ahead of them at this time, scouting things out. Dak had always worked better alone. And if all had gone according to plan, things would turn interesting at any moment.
At least she could be fully armed in this disguise. Cam Murtallan walked with a six-foot long quarterstaff perched over his left shoulder. He also wore a very large knife at his side.
Even though Max had a long sword Cam could have worn, he would have been completely ineffective with such a weapon. The Sorcerer expressed his knowledge of knives, and claimed to be fairly good with a staff, a holdover from a misspent youth. But if Cam even drew a longsword like Max’s, it would be obvious he had no skill, and the disguise would be broken.
Fortunately, merchant guards weren’t always competent with swords as weapons.
Someone along the street cried out, pointing. Others turned to look, as did Max and his wife. Lyrra-Sharron took hold of a sword hilt, and spun about.
A cloud of dark smoke was rising from the residences from which they’d come.
Dak had completed his mission.
People began to walk towards the smoke, and soon constables and Guardsmen were riding off to the source of the smoke. Calmly, Lyrra-Sharron and her companions walked off the other way.
More people came out of their homes, looking off at the ever-increasing smoke. Dak must have started quite the fire. So much the better.
They quietly moved onwards, doing their best to not do a thing that might draw attention to themselves. As they came towards the north wall, Dak hovered just ahead of them.
He walked past Max and his wife, who slowed, and approached Lyrra-Sharron. “It would seem our diversion worked. I ignited Max’s house, and lit a small fire next door as well. It will be enough of a distraction. Unfortunately, the aqueduct is guarded, but only by four constables.”