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

by Jon Bender

  Benkt on the other hand, looked pleased with the man’s weakness, sparing a small grin for Keller as he approached the book-keeper. “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Skart. I keep the accounts for Master Marish,” he whimpered.

  “Is that all you were doing? Is that why you were here?”

  Skart looked from Benkt to Marish and back again. “No… he was giving me instruction.”

  “Shut your mouth you damn traitor!” Marish growled, his face taking on a hue to match his reddish hair. Seldon slugged him the stomach doubling him over, then grabbed his arms to straighten him again.

  “And what were those instructions?” Benkt almost purred, ignoring the interruption.

  “If I tell you now, will it keep me from the conversion chamber? Will I be spared?”

  Benkt looked back to Keller questioningly. Skart was the epitome of everything wrong with people. He stood before them now: eyes wet, snot spilling down his upper lip, begging for his life and ready to betray all those who had trusted him to save himself. This man was the reason for everything Keller did. Or’Keer’s path was meant to protect all others from people like this. He would get the answers he wanted from the man if taken to the priests, but that could take time. Marish’s calm demeanor had changed to one of concentration as he stared at his accomplice. He obviously feared what Skart would say, and that information would make his own interrogation go much more quickly. Keller nodded his agreement.

  The relief on Skart’s face was absolute, but Marish struggled against his bonds forcing Seldon to give him a sharp jerk. “I was to lead a small group of men in setting fire to the northern stables where the soldiers keep their mounts,” Skart spluttered.

  “When?” Benkt asked.

  “Tonight, from what he told me, we were supposed to wait until an hour after dark. Once that was done, we were to meet up with others and try to draw out the soldiers before disappearing into the city.”

  “Why? What would that accomplish?”

  “I don’t know. There was something about –”

  Marish yelled and brought his arm up to elbow Seldon in the face with a crack. Before anyone could respond, he rushed at Skart, who with his hands still tied could not defend himself. Marish drove a small dagger up under the man’s ribs several times before Taft was able to grab his wrist and twist. Marish’s hand sprang open releasing the blade as Taft landed several blows to his face knocking him to the ground. Benkt kneeled next to Skart and began chanting while putting his hands over the wounds to emit a faint glow, but Keller could see that it was too late. The man had stopped breathing. Taft had Marish on his stomach and was in the process of retying his hands. Keller leaned over to pick up the bloody blade. It was only six inches long, but it had been enough to pierce the man’s heart. Taft finished his work and rolled Marish on his back.

  Keller held up the blade in front of the merchant’s face, the still warm blood sliding down to his fingers. “Where were you hiding this?”

  Marish looked him dead in the eyes and spit, the phlegm landing at the corner of Keller’s mouth. Keller sighed and wiped it away with his sleeve, but caught the man glance to his right. He turned his head to Seldon who was sitting back up and holding his nose to stem the flowing blood. This was the third incident where the soldier had been involved in impeding his search for the traitors. Benkt gave up on trying to save Skart and stood. He saw Keller staring and began praying again. A thin, black tentacle formed nearby to quickly coil around the soldier.

  “What are you doing?” Seldon demanded. He struggled to pull away from the magic, but Benkt had been too quick. Soon the soldier’s legs and arms were tightly bound.

  “You will be taken to the temple to answer questions,” Benkt said, his chant dropping away as the magic took hold. His voice was colder than Keller had ever heard it.

  “Questions about what?” Seldon demanded.

  “Your involvement with the conspiracy to subvert the will of our god,” Benkt said flatly.

  “That’s insane. I’m a loyal servant.”

  Benkt stood straighter and squared the shoulders of his small frame, his face taking on a look of authority. Keller had seen this posture many times before, when a shadow priest prepared to pass judgment over the guilty. “You were seen speaking to an unknown person at the tavern before the chosen was ambushed when none should have known who he was. Then there was the incident where you alone survived the encounter with the green mage when all others were killed, that also led to the chosen nearly losing his own life. Now you allowed a prisoner to get free and kill a traitor who was cooperating. Your involvement in these incidents warrants further investigation.”

  Keller expected him to protest, to proclaim his innocence, or even beg. Instead, Seldon’s face lost all emotion and his voice went calm. “Not my god. I would never worship such an evil creature who kills thousands to increase his own power.”

  “I accept your confession, and will see that it is taken into consideration when your fate is decided,” Benkt said in an almost bored tone. He had likely heard many such declarations from heretics over the years.

  Seldon barked a laugh. “I’m sure you will.”

  Keller had been unsure about whether the soldier was a traitor, but it was apparent that Benkt hadn’t missed the coincidences that had occurred while Seldon had been present. Now he had confessed and shown who he really was, there was no way to know how much he had impeded them. He had likely been gathering information on where Keller would be and perhaps providing what he had learned to the traitors. He would have to be questioned as Benkt had said. They needed to find out what he had done and what he was hiding. His capture could even prove more valuable than Marish’s.

  It took some time for the soldiers he had sent Hailey for to arrive. Once there, they restrained both men in iron manacles and escorted them to the temple. Neither had said a word since Seldon had last spoke, but that did not concern Keller. They would both talk once in the custody of the brotherhood. After the two traitors were escorted away, Keller turned to Taft who was looking uncomfortable, his hand steadily squeezing and releasing his sword’s grip. Keller understood the nervousness, but had seen no hint that the older man had known of his comrade’s actions.

  “We need to speak with Lord Prasil,” Keller said. “If Skart was being truthful, and I believe he was, then something is happening tonight and we have to be prepared.”

  “Do you have any ideas on what that could be?” Benkt asked.

  Keller shook his head and looked down at the dead book-keeper. “His part in tonight sounded to only be a distraction. I believe there is a larger plan in motion.”

  “Perhaps they plan assassinations,” Taft offered. He appeared to be more at ease now that they had moved on from the subject of Seldon. “Over the years, many priests and officials have died under unexplained circumstances. They may be trying again, except now on a wider scale.”

  Keller continued to stare at the dead man in regret. If he had lived, he could have provided more information to unravel the conspiracy. If the traitors were planning a large attack tonight, he did not know enough to stop it before they could succeed. “We are returning to Lord Prasil. If they do plan assassinations or a city-wide revolt, he will need to marshal every soldier in preparation.”

  The others nodded in agreement and followed him down the stairs. He played scenarios over in his head covering what harm an organized group could do. The two possibilities of revolt or attempted assassinations seemed the only ones that would have any true effect in furthering their cause. They must know that even if they succeeded at the first, it would only be a matter of time before Or’Keer reclaimed the city. Unless they could spread the revolt even further than Karadin, but that would take massive organization.

  The second choice seemed even less likely. If they had been successfully killing important servants of the Dark God without being caught for so long, why change their strategy now? He felt like he was missing some important pi
ece or not making the right connections. He sighed knowing that thinking in circles was getting him nowhere. All he could do now was wait and hope that those secrets could be pried from Seldon and Marish, and done so in time to stop whatever was to happen tonight.

  Nothing looked different on their trip back to the estate. The people on the streets were continuing about their day as if it was any other. He knew that most didn’t know what was going on, but that did not help to shake the feeling that the few who did were watching him. Taft and Benkt walked at his side keeping their eyes on the crowd. Hailey had decided to strike out on her own to stick to the shadows, and he could sense she was already within the walls of Prasil’s estate as they approached the gate. Inside, they were met near the pond by Prasil himself, accompanied by one of his mages and several advisors.

  “Magus Keller, I just heard the good news. You captured a high-ranking person with those involved,” Prasil said.

  Keller was impressed at how quickly the man had learned of their raid, though he was not that surprised. With the current purge, he would have his people everywhere, and soldiers would be reporting regularly about what was happening.

  “Yes. Along with Seldon, the man you sent to protect me. He has confessed to transgressions against Or’Keer.”

  Prasil paused with his mouth slightly open holding unspoken words. “Seldon was a traitor?” His head turned to regard Taft with suspicion, the soldier shifting his weight under the scrutiny.

  “There is no need to worry,” Benkt interjected. “Taft has shown nothing but loyalty. The other man you sent, however, has been consorting from the moment he joined the search.”

  “They were volunteers… I did not pick them,” Prasil said, his words filled with caution.

  Benkt seemed prepared to continue with the implied accusation, but Keller cut him off. “We have more important matters to discuss than who is to blame for not seeing what Seldon was,” he said, looking to Benkt. The priest turned his head. They both knew all present were at fault for not realizing it sooner.

  Prasil nodded emphatically in relief. “What are the important matters you spoke of?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

  Keller explained what they had discovered from Skart, and how they had learned of Seldon with his death. Throughout the story, Prasil listened while his face continued to show amazement. “They have organized enough to stage a revolt within the city itself?” Prasil asked, once Keller had finished.

  “We do not know what their ultimate plan is. Only that there will be some sort of attack tonight. It could be as you say, or for another reason entirely. In either case, we need to take precautions,” Keller said.

  “Of course, of course. With your permission, I will announce a curfew at sundown and get all my men out to patrol. You mentioned that this Skart said their attack was to take place in the northern city?” Keller nodded. “Then I will place most of them here where many of our more affluent citizens will be at risk.”

  Keller sighed inwardly. The man was concerned more with protecting the wealthy. Still, he could not argue what Skart had said, or that the northern half of the city was more at risk from the information they had. He also should have considered the curfew himself. It was a good idea. Anyone caught outside after the established time would be instantly suspect of dissident actions and could be taken for questioning.

  “You will also be accompanying me for the rest of the day,” Keller said, to Prasil’s confused look. “You are the lord of this city, and I think it best if you stay at my side for the time being.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Magus, but I am quite safe here in the estate. There are also many matters that require my attention, including reviewing the information gathered about the people we are looking for.”

  “Safe from traitors like Seldon who came from the ranks within these walls?” Keller asked, furrowing his brow.

  Prasil was already preparing his next objection, when he paused to consider Keller’s words. “I doubt there are any more like him.”

  “Your doubts are not enough to sway me, Lord Prasil. I am not asking,” Keller said with finality. The man was a skilled leader, and Keller did not wish his death to upset the structure of power during a time of disruption.

  He could see Prasil wished to argue further but, eventually, his face smoothed and he gave a small bow. “As you command, Chosen One. May I ask what we will be doing until tonight?”

  “For now, you will order your soldiers into the city. Then we will eat and wait for sunset. It is the only option we have for the moment.”

  Prasil gave another small bow and turned to speak to his advisors who headed off once they were given instructions. Keller followed with Benkt and Taft in tow, but he only half listened to the instruction Prasil gave out. His mind was occupied with what would happen once the traitors came out into the open. Whatever their plan, he was going to make sure that it would not succeed. But there was also the strong possibility of catching enough of them to stop the entire plot. If the dice fell that way, he would have accomplished the task assigned to him. Only then, could he begin preparing for the real threat.

  Chapter 9

  The sun was an hour past its midway point, and he had yet to receive word from Whisper. Of course, it was normal for the man not to appear during the day, though he should have sent a messenger with some sort of instruction since the situation had changed. If Harlow had not received one, then it was likely the other faction leaders hadn’t either. That was why he was now standing behind his counter waiting. The door to his apothecary was closed but not locked, and he had drawn the drapes of the front windows where his wares were displayed showing that he was closed. Only those who had received his messages would know that he was waiting inside. The men he had given the letters to deliver were instructed to hand them over only when they had confirmed the recipient’s identity. They did not know who the people were or how they were involved, only a name and a description. Otherwise, they were to return with the letters unopened.

  It was a risk to meet openly in his shop, for him and the others, but time was too short to arrange their normal anonymous meetings. Thinking that one of his messages might be intercepted was enough to send a chill creeping up his spine, but there could be no help for it. Too many pieces were already moving, and their leader had disappeared. He had no choice but to take action.

  The first to walk through his door was a slight man with mouse-like features and dusky blond hair. Harlow didn’t recognize him right away, but suspected he would be Elitha’s replacement, Tillin. He had been the one to move the mages when she had been taken. The thought of her brought with it a stab of restlessness and anger that she was still being held by the shadow priests. As he and the new faction leader had never met, Harlow had included a phrase for the man to say so he would know he was in the right place.

  Tillin moved nervously between the display cases casting glances in Harlow direction as he appeared to be browsing the wares. “I’m closed for the day,” Harlow said, offering the challenge.

  “I just need a tincture for my mother’s headaches. I’ll pay double for it,” Tillin said.

  Harlow nodded continuing to play the part. “I have just the thing in the back,” he said, giving the proper response and indicating the door behind him that led to the drying room. “There is wine laid out while you wait.”

  Relief washed over the thief who tried to peer into the gloom of the doorway. “Have the others arrived?” Harlow shook his head. “I hope whatever you have to tell us is important, but first I want to know how you knew our identities.”

  “I will explain everything once the others get here,” he said, gesturing again to the back. Tillin looked suspiciously at the door but walked towards it, his hand fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve. Harlow could make out a bulge there but said nothing. He could not fault the man for bringing weapons to such a precarious meeting.

  It was another ten minutes before the next arrived. This time it was Lajos, a lar
ge man with closely cropped hair and square features. A hard stare locked onto Harlow as he walked purposefully to stand in front of him. His hand moved to his waist to grip something that was not there, settling instead for tucking a thumb into his belt. Even without his uniform, it was easy to see that this was the captain who was to help him tonight. His mannerism and proud stride screamed soldier, a man who was used to being obeyed.

  “Why are we here?” Lajos asked annoyed. “And how did you learn who I was?”

  Harlow shrugged. It seemed that Whisper had failed to tell any of them that he had selected Harlow as his second. “Fulvia’s replacement is already in the back waiting. I will tell you everything shortly.”

  Lajos grunted and started to move when the shop door opened to admit a woman. He would never have recognized Rinel if not for her auburn hair, which was now tied back in a tight bun. She had exchanged her normal attire of seductive clothing for a plain, white and grey dress of modest cut. Lajos looked over his shoulder and nodded for her to follow him. She walked passed Harlow giving him a wink. Even without the revealing wardrobe and face paint she usually wore, the seductive gesture was enough to stir his blood. He had learned from Whisper that she was a madam at the only brothel not forced to operate in the undercity. Her ladies of discretion catered to only the wealthy, nobles, and even some of the priests, allowing her intimate access to them and their secrets.

  It was another few minutes before Calba’din arrived. He was a heavily muscled man from years of loading crates for merchants as a member the drivers’ guild. They transported goods all across the kingdoms controlled by Or’Keer. This made his service invaluable when people, weapons, or supplies needed to be moved in or out of the city. His high rank among the drivers had allowed them to arm other factions in Vil’Real, providing these small groups with weapons and armor supplied by Marish. Harlow waved Calba’din to the back room and waited for the merchant himself to arrive. After almost twenty minutes without the merchant’s arrival, he began to wonder if something had gone wrong and if he should tell the others to leave quickly. Just as he was about to turn, the door opened to admit the messenger he had sent to find Marish.