The Key To The Grave (#2 The Price Of Freedom)

by Chris Northern

“I know. And there is no need. They are there; the Necromancer, Tahal and Jocasta. There is another black robe, another necromancer among them. No idea who he is but he's in charge of things in the camp. Or was.”

  I was only half listening to the rest. I was thinking that I'd just made a deal with Dubaku for no good reason and when Sapphire paused I asked him the all-important question.

  “Need a horse?”

  #

  “What will you do?”

  The three of us sat around the fire. Sapphire looked like hell, still not fully healed from the beating he had taken before being thrown into my cell a few days earlier. He had been dying, then, but one of Dubaku's ancestors had come to my call and healed him as best she could. Dubaku had since told me that he had sensed her unease at being called by a stranger and that he had asked her to respond. At that time Sapphire had been mere moments from death and owed his life to the fact that the spirit had come to me. I didn't know how he felt about that debt; we hadn't spoken of it. I wasn't even sure he knew of it; not for sure. As I said, we hadn't spoken of it.

  “For now, there isn't much we can do. There are hundreds of them.”

  “Three hundred and ninety, give or take,” Sapphire supplied a more exact count.

  He had already told us how he had followed our quarry the night that Tahal had freed Ishal Laharek and they had together killed her brother and kidnapped Jocasta before fleeing the camp. The horse Sapphire rode had broken a leg as he chased them in the night. He'd continued on foot, until he could no longer hear the passage of their horses, then picked up their trail at daybreak and followed after as fast he was able. He'd told us he'd left sign, and I'd nodded, though I hadn't seen any. Sometimes luck is as good as skill.

  I rubbed the stone set in my forehead and thought about the problem we faced. Sneaking into the camp and freeing Jocasta just wasn't a realistic option. “We will have to wait and see what they do next. The headman of a village we passed told us that the Alendi and others plan to regroup, gather allies, and continue the fight against the city. Maybe Ishal Laharek will stay for the fight, and maybe not. I guess it depends on how important he thinks Jocasta is to him, and where they might think the knowledge of magic she possesses safest. Who are the necromancers? Where do they come from? How many are there? What is their hierarchy, and how organized are they? Who does Ishal Laharek answer to? Without knowing these things we can only guess at what he will do.”

  Sapphire shrugged. “We know little more than you know. They are from the north, probably Battling Plain or close by. They are not many, less than a hundred we guess, maybe much less. They control through fear, for to challenge them is to risk being made undead in one form or another. So the few rule the many. Some, the most powerful among them, become liches, undying yet unliving. They are expanding their influence at this time, though it is not known why. Possibly they face a challenge in the environs of Battling Plain and seek power elsewhere to combat it; that is just a guess, but a logical one. The individuals seek more power to rise in the hierarchy, so I would guess that Jocasta, Tahal, and the stone they have are very important to Ishal Laharek. I also guess that Laharek is in competition, either overt or covert competition with the other necromancer. To thwart them all is part of my mission, and always was.”

  It was possibly the longest speech I had ever heard him make. “I thought you were under instructions not to speak of your mission.” I deliberately used his phrase, as close as I could remember.

  “Things change. Now that you are a part of what I do...” he shrugged to finish the sentence.

  I tried to remember the exact wording of my father's letter. You will have imperium on my authority... I remembered that phrase, it was important, giving me a great deal of authority to act in the name of the assembly of patrons. Inform Sapphire of your decision... that also. “You could not have known the contents of my father's letter... not this time. You are in contact with him,” I pointed an accusing finger.

  “Little point gathering intelligence if there is no way of sending it back to where it's needed,” Sapphire said.

  “He plans to send an army north.”

  “I am not privy to his plans. But he deems the necromancers a threat to the city, one that must be decisively dealt with. Also there are other powers around Battling Plain that we are not fully aware of; it's been a hundred years since the city had interests there. Old news. So any other intelligence we can gather is of interest.”

  “I want Jocasta out of there.”

  He nodded. “We will do it when it can be done. For now, we must watch and wait as you yourself said. I'll keep an eye on them.” He turned to Dubaku. “Can you have your spirits watch over you while you sleep?”

  “They always do,” he said.

  Sapphire rose and left without another word.

  “Always?” I asked Dubaku.

  “You are not my son, Sumto. Stop prying.”

  “You were teaching Jocasta.” Jocasta and Dubaku were having some limited success I recalled, though we had never discussed details.

  “I was assisting her, not teaching, not revealing secrets.”

  “But she must have learned something, just from observing you...”

  He looked at me, face and eyes expressionless. “The names of some of my ancestors? That means nothing if they do not know you, and for that to happen you must become one of them for a time. Are you willing to die in order to learn, Sumto?”

  Well, now you come to mention it, no. Still, he was not dead, was he? So how would you die for a time? A drug? I tucked the thought away for later contemplation. One day I would be back in the city and have access to the libraries. It wasn't the only thing I planned to research on my return. I might not know much of the ways of sorcery, but I knew the name of every ancestor I possessed for over seven hundred years. I didn't doubt that some of them would be of use should I call them. I would have to research in secret, of course, for we do not much approve of priests. My potential career was already damaged from neglect. And from taking Meran, an ex-slave, as my first client; in theory he would be dominant over all my other clients, should I gain any, and that meant no noble clients; for what noble would put himself beneath an ex-slave? If I were known to dabble in spirit magic, that would be about the end of it; not one step on the course of honors for me. Probably best to let the matter drop, I decided.

  Belatedly, I realized he was waiting for an answer. “No. I don't think so.”

  “Wise,” he said.

  As Dubaku crawled into the tent I pulled my cloak about me and settled as close to the fire as my healing burns could stand. I was in no mind to sleep; not while Jocasta was so close, and not when the situation could change at any moment. I settled to thinking, having nothing better to do than fret and drink and wait.

  What had I learned?

  Knowing for certain that Sapphire had a way to communicate with my father opened up the possibility that I could send and receive messages from him. Did I have anything I wanted to impart to my father, apart from what we had learned already? Or should I let Sapphire deal with it, as he clearly already was? We had never been close, my father and I; his attention had been lavished upon my now dead brother when I was young, and since his death he had looked upon me as a disappointment. I could see it from his point of view: I had avoided military service, allowed myself to get fat, drank excessively and gambled heavily. Well, I had changed. True, I still drank, though that wasn't by choice. The addiction was induced, but I still had to live with the consequences. Even thinking of it made me want a drink, so I drank. While Jocasta, who had stolen a stone of great value from her family and travelled five hundred miles alone, discarding her reputation and risking her life to save me, was now held captive, I rested and drank. Yet there was nothing else I could do. Sneak into the camp and free her? Not a realistic option.

  Wait for a better time. That was all I could do; drink and wait. I can't say I liked it.

  #

  I'd become used to waking at
dawn, despite a lifetime's avoidance of that unsavory practice, not that there was much choice when you sleep in the open. The light wakes you, willing or not, if the cold hasn't dragged you from sleep first..

  There was no sign of Sapphire and nothing had changed in the night. I cast a cantrip to clean my teeth and drank some water, deliberately resisting the desire for beer.

  Thinking that we had better be ready to travel, just in case, I looked over the horses and thought about it. We had been using one as a pack animal; that would have to change. There was no saddle but I knew Sapphire could handle a horse without one. The problem was how to distribute the baggage and rework the available straps to handle it. I worked on the problem, saddling the two horses and loading them as heavily as I could before transferring my attention to the third horse. I considered the problem of the pack animal. In place of a saddle the third animal had a frame that strapped like a saddle but in no other way resembled one; even after arranging things three times in order to accommodate a rider, it was clear some things would have to go. The biggest item was the tent and it was still standing. For certain, it would have to go; that and more.

  Dubaku crawled out of the tent before I was half satisfied. The problem with horses is that they themselves require food; grass alone just won't keep them healthy. You have to carry grain to supplement their diet. By far the largest item was oats for the horses; followed by food for us, water, and then a host of small but useful items. There were also trade goods for those times when cash just wouldn't cut it.

  The satchel that contained a letter of imperium and a white rod, with which I could raise troops, I tucked away. Not something I wished to leave behind. Technically I was a general, but without an army. Still, if I needed one I could theoretically raise troops. There was also scrip; effectively notes bearing my father's signature and seal which he would exchange for cash. My uncle had mentioned them, though I had hardly been listening.

  Some things just took up space; pots for cooking, for example. One pot would have to do it, the second and larger could go.

  “Leave the tent up,” I told Dubaku, “we're abandoning it.”

  He looked at the tent and I thought I detected a hint of longing in his expression before he shrugged stoically and turned to the firepit.

  “No fire; the enemy are too close.”

  He joined me and watched as I continued about my task. I pretty much had it organized.

  “You could always buy another horse at Twobridges,” he said.

  “We are not going there.”

  He placed himself squarely in front of me so that I had to stop what I was doing and look at him.

  “You told Oras we were looking for my people.”

  I didn't know what to say to that.

  “The woman at Twobridges might have been one of my people.”

  Well, yes. Maybe so. I shook my head. “I was lying.”

  He didn't respond for a moment and I had the distinct impression he didn't understand what I meant.

  “When we pass through Twobridges you could buy another horse,” he repeated, as though trying to be sure I understood him. “Then we could keep the tent.”

  “Dubaku; I am here to get Jocasta free, and secondly explore the region at the request of a patron of the city. Thirdly to assist a client of my father to set up a trading post in a location of his choosing. These things I will do. If,” I held up a hand to forestall him as he made to speak, “it so happens that we find word of your people, so much to the good, but it is not why I am here.”

  “Of course you must rescue your woman, what kind of man would you be if you did not? But you must also keep your word. You said that you were helping me find my people; that was your word.”

  I stopped talking and started thinking. Maybe there was an opportunity here. “If I do this thing, what return do I get?”

  “Too late for trading, you already put your word to it.”

  I sighed. “Do I at least get your full cooperation in my other tasks?”

  He nodded. “That is fair. I will help you as you help me.”

  “Fine. So go find Sapphire and see what he is doing.”

  “He is behind you.”

  I resisted the urge to spin around and instead turned slightly and looked. Sure enough, he was not fifteen feet away, taking in the way I had organized things.

  “They are on the move?” I asked.

  “They are arguing; the two necromancers and Tahal; but the rest of them are getting ready to move out. I'm not sure what is going to happen, I don't know what the argument is about, but no matter what happens, it won't be long before we need to be ready to follow. I have seen Jocasta. She looks unharmed.”

  I moved, trying to keep to the plan of what to take and what to leave but now being much less rigorous about the matter. If I made what later seemed mistakes, well we would just have to live with them. At least I knew there was nothing left behind from what I had termed the critical/valuable pile, so we had salt, cash, fire-starter, winter clothing and anything else I deemed too valuable or useful to leave behind. We wouldn't freeze, or starve, and the horses would stay in good shape. Good enough. Creature comforts were, however, out the window. We were ready in minutes.

  #

  Twobridges was a town clearly named with little imagination. It had the right number of bridges. Both stone, but of completely different designs; the first was a clapper bridge of rough fieldstone, probably granite, and consisted of some thick pillars and large stone slabs laid on top. The second was arched and of city design. At one time a city architect had come here and sold his skills to someone who could afford him. Our bridge was wider and longer. Ok, I'm biased, but it was in all ways a much better bridge.

  We sat our horses at the top of a shallow slope and looked down on the long, shallow river valley where the settlement lay, sprawled indolently along the banks of the river. There had been no problem following our quarry. A dozen riders had left a broad and easy trail to follow. We had been obliged to wait until both the main force and our quarry had moved out of sight before following. The main Alendi force had headed east; I fretted a little about Meran and Lendrin Treleth heading into possible conflict, but they would have two hundred city soldiers with them and the usual complement of battle mages and healers, more than enough to take on a few hundred barbarian. I'd also chafed at the delay, especially since with less than a dozen barbarians as escort, Jocasta seemed as good as free in my eyes. I had seen Sapphire take down ten such on his own on an occasion when I had been too drunk to do more than stay alive. By way of contrast, at the moment I was quite pleased with myself that though I might never be quite sober, I was certainly managing to stop short of becoming actually drunk. I'm told there is a stage of inebriation where your reflexes are actually improved and I liked to think that that was where I was staying more or less all the time. True, Ishal Laharek was an unknown quantity in the conflict equation, but then we also had Dubaku with us, and I now had his assurance of complete cooperation in the endeavour. I knew what spells Tahal had, and he was a threat, but I still felt like this would be a good time to act. I wished I had thought to bring a bow; not that I could use one, but I had no doubt Sapphire could. Tahal could be removed by one easy shaft at the beginning of things.

  But not now. We'd had to wait and then follow the trail at a distance now they were here, in the town of Twobridges. The three of us could not realistically attack a town.

  “We should skirt the town and take them after they leave,” Sapphire said.

  “No.” I was, for once, in complete agreement with Dubaku, who had answered at the same time as I had.

  “Look,” I argued. “It's a big enough town that we won't cause too much of a stir on arrival.” There were over three hundred dwellings, perhaps twelve hundred people or more. “And I doubt Ishal Laharek would recognize any of us. The only time he might have seen me was the night I killed Kukran Epthel. You, he may have seen the night he escaped, but it was dark and again, he is unlikely
to recognize you. Dubaku he never met. We should go in and try and rescue Jocasta now, tonight. I can find her with this,” I tapped the stone embedded in my forehead.

  “It is not advisable to underestimate the intelligence of your enemies,” he made an offhand gesture, indicating my face. “You killed Kukran under his nose by dragging the lich bodily into a fire; you have healing burns. He would have to be an idiot not to become suspicious if he hears that a burned man arrived here the same day he did. And we have no idea of his status here; he may be a friend and ally for all we know, which would put the whole town against us. And there is Tahal; a city noble. Surely he would recognize you?”

  He didn't sound concerned. He was merely stating the facts as he saw them. I had no sense that he was arguing against action for fear of the consequences. I had known him take on extreme odds cheerfully, I didn't doubt that he would do so again should the need arise. He was right and I knew it, but I couldn't not act now.

  “To hell with this, I'm going in after her.” I said the words deliberately, using the same phrase Jocasta had used just before she had come into an enemy camp to rescue me. She had contacted me in a dream state, a spell of great complexity that was well beyond my abilities, and appraising my situation she had turned to someone and said those words; I was betting that someone had been Sapphire.

  He nodded, ice cold eyes meeting mine. “So we go in. Be prepared for anything. If there is fighting stay close and follow my lead.”

  He didn't have to say that. I'd fought with him before and knew how utterly lethal he was. He had been trained to kill since the age of five; twelve long years of training and killing many of the thousand boys who had been his peers. Not to mention some of the masters doing the training. Once, when he had expected to die from his wounds, he had asked me to promise to kill those who had subjected him to that training, those who had made him what he was. I hadn't forgotten that promise, though I believed that he had; he'd been near death at the time, both of us expecting his next breath to be his last. Still, a promise is a promise and I meant to keep my word one day; and for that I would need an army. A big one. It would have to wait.