Death Mage's Nemesis (Death Mage Series Book 4)

by Jon Bender

  Harlow looked around at the other leaders. Their forms huddled against the impending threat in a dank chamber, hidden away like rats down a hole. He doubted their chances of success in that moment. How could they truly expect to win against the power of a god, with the few men and resources they had? They had played it safe this whole time with little real chance of complete destruction. Now Or’Keer had taken notice, sending his most fearful weapon to hunt them down. He hardened his eyes and squared his shoulders, knowing that such thoughts were of no help. They may very well die in the attempt, but that was better than living as a slave.

  “What about you?” Fulvia asked.

  “I will return to the estate and do my best to track the shadow mage, to get near him. In this way, I might be able to send warning if he is getting close to discovering you.”

  “You must be careful,” Lajos said, his tone more a command than plea. “We cannot afford to you lose you at a time like this.”

  “If that happens you will have no choice. Now go. I have been away too long already and will be missed soon.” As the others began to move out of the chamber, Whisper laid a hand on Harlow’s shoulder, their leader keeping his head down so the flickering light of his torch would not reveal his face. “Wait a moment, I have another assignment for you,” Whisper said.

  Harlow nodded and watched as Fulvia stepped out into the hall last, sparing them a curious look before moving around the corner. He wanted to talk to her before parting ways back to their separate lives. It was part of their routine for these meetings, and he regretted that she would be gone by the time he was finished.

  Turning back to Whisper, the leader had already moved away. “Do we have another target?” he asked.

  Whisper nodded. “Yes, but something different from what you are used to. As Lajos said, if anything happened to me, you and the other faction leaders would be disorganized. We need to have a structure put in place so you all can continue should that happen.”

  In that moment, Harlow realized how much the thought of losing Whisper bothered him. When he had been lost, with no path to follow except that set down by Or’Keer, Whisper had found him and given him a way to fight back. Even without knowing who this man was, he had earned Harlow’s loyalty. If Whisper asked it of him, he would readily go to his death, because he knew that it would serve to break Or’Keer’s hold over men.

  “What do we need to do?” he asked.

  “Not we… you. You need to learn what people we have. Where all the factions are and what objectives they have. But most of all, how they all work together, and what parts they will play when the times comes for us to step out of the shadows,” he said calmly.

  “You want me to take over for you?” Harlow asked brow furrowed, the worry he felt blooming into real concern.

  Whisper barked a laugh startling Harlow with its suddenness. It was the first time that he had ever heard the normally stoic man do so. The sound was unnerving and comforting at the same time.

  “No, I don’t want you to take over for me,” Whisper said. “If I have it my way, we will all survive this once it’s over. But we can’t expect that will be the case, so precautions and alternate plans must be ready.”

  Harlow wasn’t sure if he wanted the burden of knowing all there was about the other factions. Having that information would put them at risk should he ever be caught. Suddenly it felt like the weight of the city over his head was pressing down on his shoulders. Was this what his leader felt like all the time? He had gotten used to being responsible for his own faction over time, slowly growing it one or two people at a time. This would be something entirely different. Not only would he be responsible for all those lives, but for the success or failure of the rebellion itself. The only thought that kept the weight bearable was that this would be just in case something happened to Whisper. It was not certain he would be caught; the man had said so himself.

  Harlow noticed that Whisper had remained silent while he had thought over what was being asked. Realizing that he was in fact being asked and not told. Every task he had been given before, Whisper had expected to be obeyed. Now he waited patiently for an answer.

  “Tell me.” Harlow couldn’t see it, but was sure the other man was smiling beneath the hood.

  “Not now,” Whisper said. “I will find you in a few days when we will have time.”

  Harlow nodded acceptance, but Whisper was already turning and quickly left the room. Standing still for a few seconds, he was processing all that happened in such a short time. Stepping out into the hall himself, he looked at the fading light of Whisper’s torch on the wall of the passage. Not for the first time, he considered following the hooded man to satisfy his curiosity and learn who he truly followed. Instead, he turned in the opposite direction and started the journey home.

  Chapter 3

  Keller’s knees ached from kneeling for so long, and he was developing a headache from having his forehead pressed to the cool stone floor. The room was filled near to bursting with those offering prayer to Or’Keer, but Keller did not feel the press of bodies surrounding him as the servants, soldiers, and even priests kept their distance. By now they all knew that the Pontiff had died during their meeting and all likely assumed he had been the one to kill the high priest. He saw no reason to correct them.

  Or’Keer watch over us so that we may bring strength to all men and guide them to your path, the room finished in unison.

  Keller offered his own request silently, asking the Dark God to guide him so that he could carry out his will in finding those who fought against him. When he finally looked up, the rest of the room was already standing and Benkt was waiting patiently by his side. The night before, when they had gone to the evening prayer, the young man’s demeanor had changed from arrogant to humble, a change that had remained this morning. Whatever Benkt’s attitude was to others, he was devout in his loyalty to Or’Keer. Standing, Keller watched as the people flowed around him, the space they afforded seemingly by accident.

  “Where do you wish to start?” Benkt asked.

  “First, I need to return to the tailor,” Keller said. Benkt narrowed his eyes in annoyance, but kept his thoughts to himself. “Afterwards I want to go to the southern city on the other side of the river.”

  Benkt’s face scrunched up in distaste. “You will not like what you find. That side of the river is wrought with corruption.”

  “Are you saying that it is beyond the reach of the temples?” Keller accused.

  “Of course not. They will have completed prayer just as we have, but beyond that and the collection of taxes, Lord Prasil only sends patrols to keep that half of the city from complete lawlessness.”

  “Such an atmosphere would provide an excellent hiding place for those who would subvert Or’Keer,” Keller said.

  “Which is why I have asked for two volunteers to help guide and escort you,” Prasil said, coming up behind Keller. Turning, he found that the lord was flanked by two men in chainmail with swords sheathed at their hips. The man himself was dressed in a plain blue robe with a bulge from the hilt of his sword.

  “These are Taft and Seldon of my personal guard,” Prasil said by way of introduction.

  Keller studied the two men in turn. Taft was middle-aged, but his body looked hardened by years of soldiering. His dark brown eyes displayed that he was a man who had seen much in his years. Seldon was perhaps Keller’s age, with light green eyes and a jutting jaw that bore a long, pale scar on the side. Taft’s hair was dark brown to match his eyes while Seldon’s was a dirty blond, but both kept it cropped short in the soldier’s style. While examining them, he could see their eyes scrutinizing him as well. Seldon in particular seemed to be studying him deeply, as if searching for something. Taft looked upon him with an eye that reminded Keller of a merchant trying to decide how much something was worth.

  “What makes you think I need protection?” Keller asked.

  “I do not mean to offend you, Magus. If something were to happen to y
ou while in Karadin, it will be me answering to the Great God’s anger. And wouldn’t it be helpful to have extra sets of eyes that are familiar with the city?”

  Keller understood the man’s unease at the thought of a shadow mage dying under his watch. It also couldn’t hurt to have the men along. Prasil was right that soldiers, who had likely grown up in the city, would see something out of place that a priest and mage of Or’Keer might miss. “Thank you for your concern, Lord Prasil, I am sure they will be helpful.”

  “If there is anything I can do to help further your charge, you need only ask.”

  Keller contained the smirk he felt. The man had no other choice but to do as Keller wanted, as anything less would be met with severe punishment.

  “I have city business to attend to, and will leave you to yours,” Prasil finished, bowing slightly forward.

  Keller gave a nod in recognition as the man left with the few people still filing out of the room. “You all need to change into to common clothes, and I will require some as well. Bring them to my room,” he said to Seldon, who looked to be about his size. The two soldiers saluted as one, bringing their fists to chest smartly.

  “It is sacrilegious for me to abandon my robes,” Benkt said, after they were gone.

  Keller did not know if that was true. He had never heard Or’Keer command it, but he had also never seen a priest wearing anything else but the heavy black robes. “We need to blend in to accomplish the Dark God’s goals. He will not be angry that you do what is necessary to carry out his commands.”

  Benkt went silent for a moment then nodded. “I will meet you at your room with those two thugs.”

  “You should be more respectful of our soldiers,” Keller said, stopping the young priest as he turned. “One day you may rely on them to protect you so that you may channel the power of Or’Keer.” Benkt seemed to consider his words, looking unconvinced as he continued on his way. Keller shook his head in dismay. It seemed that Benkt’s humility only went as far. The last to leave, Keller retreated to the room provided by Prasil where a servant had left his breakfast.

  The four of them were walking out a side gate of the compound within the hour. Keller did his best to adjust the brown shirt Seldon had given him. It was a little too large, but he made do by tucking the excess material into his dark pants and synching the belt tight. The soldier had also given him a thin sword commonly worn by nobles and merchants to complete the look, telling Keller that no one went unarmed in the southern part of the city, and that to do so would look out of place.

  Moving deeper into the city, they moved through the northern district on their way back to Raval’s shop. Dressed as they were, people no longer scurried out of their way as they had when he and Benkt had worn their robes. It had been so long since he had been just another face in the crowd, he had forgotten how much slower it was to travel when negotiating a busy street, his small group forced to make room for others to pass. Instead of being annoyed, he took it as an exercise in understanding the common people. Since becoming one of the chosen, he was beginning to lose touch with them and the problems they encountered every day. The experience was a good reminder of the end goal for all people. Everything he had ever done in Or’Keer’s name had been for them. Yes, some had to be dealt with harshly, but the suffering of a few did not outweigh the betterment of all.

  He had the three men wait outside when they reached the shop. Raval himself was with another patron who standing atop the small platform. The older man was using the same bit of knotted cord to take measurements. Hearing Keller enter, Raval looked up for only a second with a curious and slightly disgusted look as he took in Keller’s attire. After scribbling down some notes on the same scrap of parchment, he instructed the customer to return in a week for the final adjustments.

  Leading the man to the door, they said their goodbyes and Raval closed it behind him. “Welcome back, Magus,” he said nervously, offering Keller a small bow.

  Keller nodded. “Did you have time to complete the work? I do not wish you to rush and have the quality suffer for it.”

  “No, no, Magus. I have completed the coat and pants, along with two shirts. I simply need you to don them so I may check the fit,” he said, waving a hand to the back room.

  Keller followed Raval into the back where his new clothes hung in a small changing room. Trying on each of the articles, he found that they were far more comfortable than the current clothes he was wearing. There was no mirror available for him to inspect them, but from what he could see, he was pleased with the man’s skill. It was impressive how quickly he had crafted the fine clothing. The pants fit naturally to his body making the belt almost unnecessary. The shirt was tighter than he expected, but he attributed that to having worn loose robes for much of his life. Pulling the jacket on, it was so light that he already knew how much cooler it would be. After walking out, Ravel fidgeted with the shirt and tugged on the pants in different places, having Keller take the coat on and off several times. The tailor had him go through a range of movements as he walked around watching. All the while, Raval continued to take notes.

  “Thank you, Magus, you may change back into what you were wearing,” he said, disdain edging his voice.

  Keller was a bit surprised that the tailor was not satisfied. To him, they fit perfectly compared to the robes and borrowed clothes. “You still wish to make adjustments? They all feel comfortable to me.”

  “Yes, but after I make a few changes, you won’t know you are wearing them.”

  Keller nodded. The man’s work was exemplary, and he had earned Keller’s faith that he knew what he was doing. As he was taking off the coat to return to the dressing room, he noticed that Raval looked decidedly uncomfortable and nervous.

  “Is there something wrong?” Keller asked.

  Raval met his eyes, seemingly torn between speaking and remaining silent. “I heard a rumor that the Pontiff has been killed.”

  In that moment, he realized that announcing what he was to the tailor may have been a prideful mistake. Irritated by the constant assumption that he was a priest, he had spoken without thinking. Having fewer people know who he was would make his movement about the city easier. There was little worry that anyone from the estate would cross his path, but Raval knew of him. Because of his oversight, he was now considering having Raval taken and confined so that he wouldn’t be able tell others. It wasn’t the man’s fault what he knew, but the unjust confinement of one man could not interfere with what needed to be done.

  “Yes, the Pontiff is dead,” Keller said, deciding to see if he could risk trusting the man. “Our god found reason to have him punished. Does that concern you?”

  Raval shifted his eyes to his hands which he had begun wringing. “Forgive me, Magus, I know that it is not my place, but I have a family,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

  “What do they have to do with the high priest?” Keller asked confused.

  “Have you come to purge Karadin!” he blurted all sense of propriety gone.

  Keller took a moment to form his words carefully. He had no wish to imprison an innocent and faithful man. It was that kind of action that gave credence to the dissenter’s views and turned loyal followers away from the path. “I have not been sent to purge the city,” he began, keeping his tone as gentle as possible. Thinking to himself that it was not a purge in the way he would know it. It was a purge of precision. They could not afford to simply begin taking people suspected of dissidence as they had in the past. Not with the alliance heading their way. “Your family is safe.”

  The man’s eyes began to water as his body relaxed with relief. “Thank you. Thank you,” he almost sobbed.

  Even though he understood the man’s dread, that understanding did not curb Keller’s disappointment at his ignorance. Keller was not so much a fool to think that only the unfaithful were swept up in a purge. A few innocents were inevitably caught in such a wide net, but as a whole, those faithful to Or’Keer had no reason to fear
a purge. They were meant only to find those who posed a threat to the rest.

  “Now I have a question for you,” Keller said, hardening his voice to make sure he had the tailor’s full attention. “Have you told anyone who I am?”

  Raval’s demeanor changed instantly, his eyes drying, but his hands continuing to grip each other tightly. “No, Magus. I would never presume to discuss what a servant of Or’Keer does or says, and I swear to the dark god himself that I never will.”

  Keller tilted his head to the side, searching for some sign of deception and finding none. He believed the tailor. There would be no need to imprison him. “Such a vow to our god should not be taken lightly. Betraying it would incur severe consequences.”

  “I won’t,” Raval said, gaining control of his emotions.

  “When will the clothes be ready?” Keller asked, intentionally changing the subject. He believed the tailor was earnest and that there was no point in pressing him further on the matter. A priest may have been more adamant about ensuring the man’s loyalty, Benkt being among those he was sure, but maintaining the masses in service to Or’Keer was their responsibility not Keller’s. His duties were more straightforward and far more pressing.

  Raval’s demeanor returned to all business at the mention of his work. “I can have them ready by tonight if you wish.”

  Keller thought over just waiting until the following day, but he wanted to be well on his way into his exploration of these rebels without interruption. “I will return tonight,” he said.

  He felt the urge to try and comfort the older man further. Instead, he left without another word. Raval’s fear would help him to keep his promise. It was a common tactic used when new cities were being brought to the path. Regardless, Keller felt as if he was betraying a loyal follower of Or’Keer. Those who truly believed in the Dark God did not deserve to be treated so. Still, it was not only for Raval’s good, but for the good of all Karadin and his god. In the end, that was all that mattered.