by Jon Bender
“You have sworn your life to Or’Keer. It is not your place to question his methods, and it would be unwise for you to continue entertaining such thoughts,” he said, his voice cold and hard.
She shifted uncomfortably, and he was sure that his anger had flowed back across to her. “I’m sorry, Magus. I know that our god has given me a second chance, and I will not waste it,” she said, her voice losing all emotion.
“Good.” What came flowing back to him was a mixture of fear and anxiety. Knowing that she grasped completely how he felt was enough to help restore balance within himself.
He had settled the matter with her, but it did nothing to alleviate the questions now circling his mind. Would they finally be safe once it was over and Or’Keer was the only god worshiped by men, or would the persecution and purges continue until only those who sought nothing but his glory remained? Did his god only seek the betterment of the world, or was everything he had done only to increase his own power? Some, including the death mage Jaxom, would likely argue the latter. Keller’s rational mind could see merit in those claims. Saw the evidence of what he and countless others had done in the Dark God’s name. Was it possible that he had been wrong all this time?
No. He would not allow a moment of uncertainty that was not even his own undo an existence of faithful servitude. Life, while sometimes uncomfortable, was safe for those under Or’Keer’s guidance. Yes, the people under his rule had sacrificed some of their freedoms, such as the right to worship who they wished and the ability to make certain decisions for themselves. But that was the cost the individual must pay so that the majority could live in peace. People were flawed. They needed a firm hand to show them the way. Those that would harm others needed to be held accountable for what they had done. The death of his mother and brother were proof enough of that. The thought of his family dead at the hands of a man who thought himself better was all he needed to remind himself why he had pledged his life to the Dark God.
Looking at Hailey, Keller wanted to justify why Or’Keer and his plan was what was best for all, but he could not seem to form the words in a logical sense. How could he explain what had happened to him as a child while removing his own hunger for justice? To show her that servitude was the correct choice for the reasons he knew it was. In the end, it did not matter. Like thousands of others, she was now bound to do what was right, even if she didn’t understand why.
The argument was over and Hailey was reminded of her place, but her emotions still came to him. He found that actively pushing them to the back of his mind seemed to lessen their effect, not enough to be rid of them completely, just to the point that she was a quiet presence he was barely aware of. Much like the feeling of his clothes against his skin, there only when he thought about them. Concentrating on his surroundings also helped to distract himself from her, so he looked closely at the details of the city. It was still early, but many of the most pious would have already eaten so that they were assured a place inside a temple for the morning prayers.
The air still held the crispness of the night before, not yet stifled by the heat and moisture that was sure to come. The feeling of the atmosphere offered a sense of cleanliness and purpose and, as they walked, more people emerged on their journey to temples or public spaces across the city. There they would be led in their prayers by priests preaching the virtues of the path and the future to be found at its end.
It took only a short time for the streets to become flooded. Many of the people took notice of Hailey and quickened their pace. He could see by the way she hunched her shoulders, that she was either unused to or uncomfortable with the attention. Allowing the bond to carry her feelings to him briefly. He found that it was both, mixed with a sense of stubborn determination.
By the time they reached the merchants’ guild house – a three-story building built of large stone blocks, thick double doors, and shuttered windows – the streets were completely empty except for their small group and the occasional patrol of armed men. The building was still closed as was to be expected, so Benkt led them to a small alley where they could wait and watch the entrance.
“Do we know what this Marish looks like? Or even if that is his real name?” Taft asked, leaning against a wall.
“He’s a large, older man with reddish-brown hair and walks with a slight limp. The prisoner offered his name used by the traitors, but she claims Marish is what those he deals with publicly know him by,” Benkt said.
“I just hope he has more to offer than the woman who gave his name. The sooner we discover those he’s working with, the sooner we can all go back to our lives,” Seldon said, looking at the doors to the guild house.
Taft grunted in amusement. “We have been chasing our tails for days now. I don’t think we are going to be that lucky.”
“We’ll do what we have to, no matter how long it takes,” Keller said firmly. He was still feeling the effects of Hailey’s doubt and was in no mood to brook theirs as well. The others nodded and went quiet as they waited, likely subdued by the finality in his voice.
It was over an hour before people began flowing up and down the street again, many of them men and women arriving at the guild house. As the central hub for trading among the merchants, they arrived by the dozen to disappear into the building. Most were dressed to display their wealth, their clothes made from silk with expensive jewelry adorning necks and fingers. Some were even brought by horse or carriage. Finally, a man matching the description Benkt had given strolled up the street, his gait slightly off every time his left foot took a step. Some of the merchants who had entered the guild house had been accompanied by one or two hired swords for protection. Marish had four, but they did not appear to be professional mercenaries. While armed, they looked like common citizens in simple clothing. Marish and his small entourage appeared nervous, and Keller wondered if somehow they were aware that he and the others were coming for them. The idea they knew they were being hunted didn’t make any sense. If that was the case, why would Marish come to the guild house at all instead of going into hiding? More likely, the merchant was on edge because of the purge, anxious at knowing that the capture of his co-conspirators put him further at risk of being discovered as well. A fear that was about to come true.
Keller looked to Benkt to confirm that this was the man they were after, and the priest nodded in agreement. Moving out of the alley, nearby people were startled by their appearance and did their best to avoid walking too close. Muttered comments sprung up immediately and he could feel the uneasy looks as his group crossed the street.
Entering the house, they were confronted by two very large men who stepped out from the sides to halt their progress. One look from Keller was all that was needed to dissuade them from interfering and, moving into the main hall, he took in the space and found it to be better decorated and furnished than a noble’s home. Men and women sat at different tables or in secluded booths talking as attendants scurried about the room with trays. Almost every seat was occupied, with more people standing about holding their drinks. It didn’t take long for all those present to take notice of the new arrivals, the chatter dying away as all eyes focused on them. Keller scanned each man in turn searching for Marish, but he was not among them. A set of stairs pressed against a wall led to a second level looking down on them over a railing. Leading them around the scattered tables, he started up just as a man carrying a tray was coming down. The attendant had not been paying attention until the last second when he jerked to the side causing him to nearly spill the contents of the tray. The man was mortified at being so close to Keller and Benkt as they passed, even going so far as to turn his head with a moan when Hailey stepped past him. Looking over his shoulder at her, Keller could not make out an expression behind her shadow mask, but her eyes and the bond told him how distressed she was at the man’s response to her presence.
The next level was an imitation of the first, with the same number of people crowded into a smaller space. Near the back in one of th
e booths, Marish was sitting across from another man, who besides the guards was the least well-dressed person in the room. Marish’s four guards stood in front of them facing out. The merchant turned in his seat to see what had suddenly silenced the low hum of conversation, his gaze finding them and meeting Keller’s eyes.
Marish’s eyes went wide and his brow rose. The merchant said something that did not reach Keller’s ears, but the response from the men guarding him was obvious as they drew their swords. His own group responded in kind as he heard the sound of steel sliding across leather, with the exception of Hailey, whose curved sword seemed to appear without being drawn.
The other people present were getting to their feet as their own guards pulled weapons to defend their patrons and shouting erupted as they moved to get out of harm’s way. Soon the balcony was broiling with activity as people tried to move towards the stairs and doors. One wealthy man dressed in blue silk was knocked over the railing to fall out of sight with a scream that was cut short. Seeing how volatile the situation was becoming, Keller began moving forward through the press. Not willing to lose Marish in the chaos that was rapidly forming, he pushed people out of the way trying to close the distance. He thought momentarily of using his magic to clear a path, but realized that to do so would injure or even kill more people than was acceptable. To kill wantonly would only create more enemies, and since he had yet to see a cast from Benkt, he assumed that the priest had reached the same conclusion.
Unable to see the floor, he stepped on what could only be a person but had no choice but to ignore it. Trying to help whoever it was would only slow him down or worse. One young man was trying to get passed him, but because of the press of bodies, was pushed directly in Keller’s path. He had to grab the merchant bodily to get him out of the way. Another man carrying a short sword and dressed in supple leather armor, presumably the young merchant’s guard, lashed out at Keller with the blade. He jumped back to avoid the sharp edge that would have sliced through his arm, but found there was no need as Hailey appeared at his side. Her blade parried the attack neatly before countering with a slash down the guard’s leather tunic, the flimsy armor parting easily under the dark blade’s sharp edge. The smell of blood filled the air, its metallic odor seeming to fuel the panic that was quickly forming. Fights broke out across the floor, and even the merchants themselves began drawing blades or cudgels to defend themselves.
Keller ignored it all, letting his group keep the mob back as he pushed forward. Through the crowd he saw Marish, the man he had been speaking with, and his four guards trying to move to a door near the back. Only the other people trying to do the same had prevented them from yet escaping. Slipping past a woman weighed down by more gold jewelry than his entire group carried, he broke out into the center of the room now populated only with overturned tables and chairs. With the path now clear, he quickly covered the remainder of the space. Hailey had been able to slip through with him as well, but he did not have time to wait for the others as they struggled to catch up. Still unable to reach the door, Marish began shouting at his men who turned to face Keller. The man he had been speaking too did as well, the act marking him for Keller as another traitor and not just a bystander. Marish and the other men broke clear of the crowd to meet both him and Hailey in the open, one of the guards cutting down a man who was in a frantic panic to get to the door and had stumbled into their path.
Keller pulled on the shadows around him. Raising a hand, he unleashed three daggers at one of the guards. The man dove to the side allowing the cast to pass harmlessly overhead and into the back of a small woman. Keller winced as he saw a dark stain bloom in the green dress she wore. He tore his eyes away, not allowing himself to dwell on the fact that he had likely just killed an innocent. Her death was by his hand, but it was a small price to pay to capture those who would endanger all mankind. Switching tactics, he raised his other hand and shaped two of Or’Keer’s fingers from the shadows on the floor. The tentacles reared back and whipped forward before fully forming. One was aimed for the man who had dodged the daggers, forcing him to roll away again. This time he was not so lucky. Keller’s cast clipped his leg causing him to tumble away, but doing no real damage. The other man stepped to the side just as the second finger came crashing down to obliterate a table in a spray of splinters. The guard hacked down with his sword severing a four-foot section. The severed piece continued to wriggle still containing some of Keller’s magic, then began dissolving into the shadows of the room once more. The sudden loss shocked and distracted him as he concentrated on regenerating the cast. It took only a few seconds, but it was enough time to give the other two guards a chance to rush in.
Just as he willed the tentacles to pull back and fend them off, Hailey appeared in front of them, her blade swinging in a large arc forcing the men to jump back or be sliced in two. She then proceeded to shift from side to side slashing with her curved blade, the tactic forcing the two men to place their backs against one another to prevent being hit from the side. It was apparent by her use of speed over sword work, that she was not a master of the art. Still, she held her own with ease against the two men, her fluid strikes scoring hits where they least expected. Keller guessed the fight would not last long.
Her intervention allowed him to pay attention to his opponents which had just doubled. Marish and the man he had been speaking to had joined the fight, both wielding long daggers. Keller whipped the tentacles forward again and this time the guard who had thus far dodged two attacks was too slow. Or’Keer’s finger struck solidly against his chest sending him flying backward into the crowd, the force of the blow and the guard’s own weight bringing down three people into a tangle of bodies. Marish and the unknown man charged forward, their daggers held low in preparation to skewer Keller. He restrained the instinct to lash out with all his power. Doing so would risk killing the men he needed to question. Instead, he willed a tentacle to sweep low clipping Marish’s feet so that he landed hard on his face. The second wrapped several times around the unknown man’s waist and lifted him into the air where he was no longer a threat. The unknown man – who Keller could now see seemed to be a laborer in plain clothes – tried cutting through the magic with his dagger, but without leverage it would do him no good. That left only one of Marish’s guards for Keller to contend with. He brought the tentacle up again to bring it down on him, prepared to shift at the last moment if he tried to move again. He surprised Keller by running forward instead, his blade arcing up to again sever a piece of the cast. Keller grunted from the shock he felt through his magic. Releasing the cast, he raised his hand above his head and formed a javelin above, its short shaft and foot-long tip a construction of swirling shadows. Concentrating, he flung his arm forward as his magic propelled it with incredible force. There was no chance to dodge, and the guard did not possess the skill to deflect the thin missile. Keller watched his face go from surprise to acceptance in the fraction of a second it took for the javelin to cross the distance, passing halfway through the guard’s chest before stopping. The impaled guard dropped his sword to grip the portion of the shaft protruding from his front, only to have it dissolve between his fingers when Keller released the magic maintaining it. He fell forward onto his knees, and then slumped to the side, dead.
Marish was just gaining his wits when Taft and Seldon moved closer to each grab an arm. When Keller looked over to Hailey, he found her staring down at two bloody corpses covered in clean-edged wounds. From the look of it, she had slowly killed each with a dozen cuts until they had collapsed. Most of the balcony was now clear as the last of the guild members scattered out the door, the emptiness allowing him to see the carnage he had wrought in only a few moments. Tables and chairs were upturned with their contents scattered and small rivulets of blood were following down the imperfect level of the wood floor to coalesce in a pool near the railing. Watching the puddle grow, he had the errant thought to wonder if it would flow over the side to the room below.
Besides the
four guards, there were an additional two bodies lying on the floor, both trampled to death in the panic. But it was not those that held his attention. Their deaths were on the heads of people who valued their own safety above all others. What held his attention was one unmoving person he knew himself responsible for, and his eyes kept drifting back to her. Three blood-stained tears showed clearly in the fine green fabric showing where his daggers had landed. She had died because he was careless, and too eager to capture his foes. Looking at her, he began to wonder if he could have acted differently. Perhaps by using Or’Keer’s finger from the beginning, or waiting until his companions had arrived to help.
“Are you going to bring him down?” Benkt asked, stopping him from continuing down the path of ‘what ifs?’ “I know by his action he deserves death, but I don’t think we should waste the opportunity to question him.”
Even though he had lowered his hand to the side once the fight was over, he had unconsciously held the unknown man aloft. Looking up, Marish’s accomplice was not as plainly dressed as he had originally thought. His clothes were simple, yes, but he also bore silver rings on two of his fingers and a thin gold chain around his neck. His full face was red from struggling against the magic and he was a bit thick around the midsection. If Keller had to guess, he would say his prisoner was a book-keeper of some sort. With a thought, he lowered the man to the ground slowly, but did not release his hold until Taft and Seldon had bound Marish’s hands with strips of cloth cut from the dead guards. As Taft began tying the second man’s wrists behind his back leaving Seldon to hold onto Marish, the unknown man began to openly weep. He begged for forgiveness between sobs. Keller felt no sympathy. He had brought himself to this fate when he betrayed his god and attacked one of the chosen – both offenses held the punishment of death. Marish spared one withering glare for his accomplice, but otherwise kept his face neutral and said nothing.