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

by Jon Bender

  Stepping out into the narrow hall, the bond allowed him to sense Hailey deeper in the temple. She was becoming more accustomed to her abilities, allowing her to move faster through the shadows than an average person ever could. He knew where the thief who had attacked him was being held, though he had not seen her since that night in the undercity.

  The door was heavy, but not locked as he pushed it open and stepped in. The first thing he noticed was the smell of urine and blood mixed in the air. It was quickly followed by the sight of the lamp-lit room with dim light cast over the damp stones of the walls.

  At the center of the room were two tables. The first was smaller and held a variety of blades and sharp instruments. The second was larger, and atop it laid Fulvia, held down by three wide, leather straps. Her naked body was bruised and battered, but he could just make out the shallow rise and fall of her chest. A priest stood over her, his hands hovering over her stomach with a light glowing just beneath them. The others moved in behind and spread out against the wall. Prasil made a sound in his throat. When Keller looked at him, the disgust was obvious on the lord’s face.

  The priest stepped back from table, his body sagging with exhaustion. “Chosen One,” the priest said in greeting.

  Keller nodded, trying not to show his displeasure at being there. “Has she offered anything else.”

  “No. I’m afraid she has reached a point where her usefulness is at an end. She has barely spoken no matter what technique I apply,” the man said.

  Keller moved closer to the table to look down on her. She hardly seemed the same person with eyes barely recognizing his presence. Short brown hair was matted to her head with dried blood, and dozens of white scars left by magical healing were scattered across her body. He felt bile well up in his throat and was forced to look away.

  When he lifted his eyes, the priest was looking at him with pride and it took all his will not to lash out at the man. No one should take pleasure in such work. Even when he had performed similar deeds to the noble who had killed his family, he had never enjoyed it. At the time, he thought he was delivering justice, but he never once felt good about what he was doing.

  “You’re sure that she has nothing more to offer?” he asked, clenching his fist tightly at his side to contain the anger coursing through him. A flash of concern reached him through the bond, and he felt Hailey start heading towards him. Only when he had forced himself to calm did her own emotions subside.

  “I’m sure. The only purpose she can serve now is to show others what fate awaits them for betraying our god.”

  Keller knew that was the only option Or’Keer would accept. He could not simply set her free. “If there is nothing else we can learn from her, then your work is completed. See that she is returned to her cell and given food and water.”

  “Why waste –”

  Keller furrowed his brow, the small gesture enough to silence the man’s protest. “See that it’s done.”

  The priest gave a slight bow, but Keller was already turning to leave. They walked out into the hall and Keller paused to breathe in the relatively fresh air. He kept his back to the others so they could not see the expression of relief on his face.

  “You should not feel regret,” Benkt said. “She and the others brought this on themselves.”

  He did not respond, and started walking again. There were several more doors along the hall, but he did not need to ask which one was next. A man screaming from within led him to the right one. He opened it to find a similar situation as the last, but the priest here was in the process of using a knife curved at the tip to flay a section of skin from Seldon’s arm. Even from the door, Keller could see the stringy muscles where the flesh had been expertly removed from the traitor’s arm.

  The robed figure looked up from his work and stepped away, Seldon’s screams reduced to panting grunts as he flexed against the straps causing blood to seep from the fresh wound. When he caught his breath, he turned his head to look in Keller’s direction.

  “So, the Chosen One himself deigns to get his hands dirty. Or did you come because you enjoy watching others in pain?” Seldon spit. His lips upturned into a false smile that could not hide his agony.

  Keller moved closer to the table as the soldier’s unyielding eyes followed his approach. “I don’t enjoy any of this. Have you ever seen me take pleasure from what I have to do?” Keller said. The man had been with him long enough to know the truth of his words. “You will tell us what you know eventually… you know that. I only wish that you would save yourself from what happens between now and then.”

  Seldon looked up to the ceiling and started laughing with real mirth. The humor choked off as another wave of pain raked his body. “Even if I tell you, I won’t be getting off this table any time soon. Your foul master would never allow it.”

  Keller restrained himself from lashing out at the man. The doubts Hailey had stirred within were still fresh in his mind, and he was in no mood to hear his god defamed. “You think yourself far more important than you are,” he said instead. “Or’Keer does not care if you suffer or not, but I do. I can make this end and give you a quick death. Tell us what the traitors’ plan is for tonight, and you will be spared any more of this.”

  Seldon looked into his eyes, and Keller could see the flash of hope mixed with surrender in them. The moment of weakness lasted only a second then was gone, replaced once again by defiance. “They intend to set fires in the northern city and attack the barracks to distract the soldiers. The confusion will let them reach Lord Prasil, his mages, and the priests.”

  Keller sighed. It was close enough to the truth that it he might have believed the man if not for what he had seen in his eyes. He looked up to the priest who had watched the exchange without emotion. “Continue, and do it quickly. We need to know what he knows,” he said, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. The priest nodded and moved back as Keller turned to leave.

  “You won’t win,” Seldon said, his voice calm and assured. “In the end, Or’Keer and all like you will fall. Even if it takes a hundred years, the people will fight back against the evil you bring.

  Keller looked back over his shoulder. “I wish I could show you how wrong you are. Or’Keer is the only one capable of saving us from the other gods… and ourselves,” he said, then continued out the door.

  Seldon started laughing again as the others followed him out. The laughter turned into a scream that was muffled as the heavy door swung closed behind them. He stood in the hall and hung his head, a feeling of sorrow washing over him. How could he make them see that Or’Keer was the only way for men to survive? The chains that held them fast to underserving gods and treacherous men were harder than any steel and nearly unbreakable. That was why such deeds like what was happening in the room were necessary. It was the only thing they understood.

  “I have known Seldon for years,” Taft said. The others had remained quiet while he had stood there sulking, but the man’s hard voice helped to bring him out of the gloomy fog swirling in his mind. “We won’t get anything from him that will help us tonight. Especially since he knows he only has to hold out until then.”

  Keller sighed, and with it, let go of the defeat he felt. He straightened and turned to face the three men. “You’re right. So, we can only react to what happens tonight.”

  “It doesn’t matter. Whatever these vermin do, we will win because Or’Keer’s path is just,” Benkt said with conviction. The priest’s words helped to bolster Keller’s own flagging faith, if only slightly.

  “Then I suggest we get up to the street. It will be dark outside already, and we can’t do anything from here,” Prasil said, seeming to pick up on Benkt’s fervor.

  “Should we not go see Marish as well?” Benkt asked.

  “No, Taft is right. Like Seldon, he knows he has only to hold until tonight. Then, it won’t matter what he tells us,” Keller said.

  When no one disagreed, he nodded and turned to head back the way they had come. In
a short time, they were back outside the large temple doors and moving back onto the street. The sun was now completely gone with the light of dusk quickly fading behind the buildings. Hailey stepped out from a darkened corner to join them and walk by his side. Moving deeper into the northern city, the emptiness struck him profoundly. Every building and house was closed tight, with drapes drawn and no light emitting from within. Those responsible for lighting the street lamps had completed their task well before the curfew. Still, the small flames flickering above their heads did little to push back the darkness. Most people would be uncomfortable in or even fear the black, but Keller felt right at home, his magic stronger with the night. He pulled in the power of the shadows to allow him to see into the gloom, but also to reaffirm his belief that nothing they faced tonight would be a match for the power of his god.

  The patrol he led remained quiet except for the rattle of their armor and clicking of their boots against the cobblestone street. They moved through the city for an hour without incident. The moon was now clearly visible and partially covered by dark clouds, the soft light it cast creating deeper shadows.

  Keller let his mind drift to thoughts larger than his world, distracting himself from the knowledge that soon many would needlessly die. He considered the idea that without light there could be no darkness and the reverse was just as true. Without the contrast of each other, a person would never know the difference. This led him to think about life itself and what made people what they were. He knew that all gods garnered power from the prayers, but didn’t know why. What power could be given to them? Was faith a form of energy like the shadows were to him or fire was to other mages? This led him to wonder about that energy. Was it the source of life? And if so, what happened when a person died? Where did that energy go?

  “May I ask what you are thinking about?” Hailey whispered.

  Keller looked at her and saw that her question had drawn Benkt’s attention as well. He was about to ask what had spurred the question before realizing that the bond might have fed his contemplative mood to her. Their link was not something he wanted to share with others at the moment… if ever. He could not even be sure that Or’Keer knew that the bond he had created would have this effect. Keller could see no reason why the Dark God would want such a thing, and he was not sure he wanted the brotherhood to know of it.

  Before he could think of an appropriate answer, the sound of hooves clicking and the grinding of wooden wheels against stone reached his ears. He raised his hands to halt the patrol and waited. A tarp-covered cart came around the corner with a thickly muscled man sitting atop it. The driver pulled the reins taught and stopped the horse in the street just ahead of them. After a few seconds, Keller moved forward to the side of the cart with Hailey, Prasil, and Taft following his approach.

  “You have your writ to transport?” Prasil asked looking up to the driver.

  The man looked at the four of them and nodded slowly while reaching for his belt. “Yes, my lord,” he said, handing over the small slip of folded paper.

  Prasil accepted the writ and opened it. He brought it close to his face to get a better look in the low light, but Keller’s shadow-powered eyes could already see the official mark stamped into the wax. Prasil appeared to come to the same conclusion and refolded the paper before offering it back. “You can be on your way,” he said.

  Keller could see the driver’s relief as he slipped the paper behind his belt again. As the man lifted the reins to get the horse moving again, a slight sound of something shifting came from the back of the cart.

  “Wait,” Keller said, raising a hand.

  He was taken completely by surprise when the driver gripped the dagger at his belt and lunged for him. He saw the large man half falling, half leaping toward him, the long blade glinting in the moonlight. There was no time to raise his hand to cast. Prasil seemed less surprised by the sudden attack and was drawing his own dagger but not moving fast enough. A dark form appeared between Keller and his attacker causing him to fall backward to the ground. By the time he realized it was Hailey, her slight weight had landed on top of him with a heavy weight landing on them both forcing the air from his lungs. He tried to scramble out from beneath the pile when Prasil pulled the driver away, his body pulling Hailey’s curved blade with it. She had gotten between them just in time, letting the man’s own weight impale himself on her sword. He helped push her back to her feet before standing himself.

  “Lucky she was here with you,” Prasil said, offering him a hand.

  Keller looked at Hailey as she retrieved her sword and cleaned it on the now dead driver’s shirt. “Yes. Now let’s see what he was willing to kill me over.”

  Benkt and the patrol had come running up when the driver had attacked and had surrounded the cart. Keeping one hand ready to cast, he untied one of the ropes securing the tarp and flipped it back quickly. Inside he found four women lying down in the shallow bed with frightened looks on their faces. They were all wearing provocative dresses made of silk and their faces were heavily painted to accent their lips and eyes. The soldiers began pulling the women out and lined them up against the cart. It was apparent they were ladies of the night, making their being in the back of a cart all the more suspicious. Not to mention the man who was transporting them had just tried to kill him.

  “Who are you? What are you doing here?” Benkt demanded, the disgust in his voice clear.

  “Please, holiness,” one of the women said meekly. “We were hired to go to a noble’s house for the night. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  Benkt walked in front of the women examining them each in turn, his face screwed up in disgust. Keller did not care what profession a person chose or was forced into as long as they were devout in their worship. The brotherhood, however, had a different view. If not for the tolerance of the criminal element to maintain Or’Keer’s dominance of Karadin, these women would have long ago been taken by the temples. Like most other priests, Benkt would consider them unclean and beyond saving.

  Reaching the last, Benkt looked her over carefully then pointed to the front of her almost topless dress. “What is that?”

  The woman was obviously afraid, her eyes wide as she looked down at herself. “It is wine, holiness. I was careless when… entertaining,” she said with a shaky voice.

  The priest looked into her eyes and Keller saw her look away in response, the movement seeming to signal something for Benkt. Reaching out, the priest grabbed the front of the woman’s dress and ripped it down, the thin material easily tearing away to expose her breasts. The woman screamed and tried to cover herself with her arms. Benkt paid her no more attention as he lifted the torn cloth up for Keller to see. On it were dark stains. Taking the cloth for closer examination, he felt the stiff crustiness of the fabric and rubbed his thumb over it to come away reddish-brown. She had lied. Wine would not have flaked away as the substance on the silk did.

  “Whose blood is this?” he asked. The half-naked woman’s face was covered with true terror, but she did not answer. “Take them to be held until the temple comes for them,” he told the sergeant of the patrol.

  The soldiers quickly got the women back into the cart using rope to secure their hands to it.

  “Do you think they are involved with the rebellion?” Taft asked.

  “I don’t know, but it would seem the likely answer to why they are hiding in a cart covered in blood,” Keller replied.

  “You said this man Skart admitted to helping stage attacks. If that’s true, why would they do so if they wanted to assassinate servants of Or’Keer quietly?” Prasil asked.

  Keller considered his words, but could not find a reasonable answer. In the end, it didn’t change that he had to assume the women were assassins for the rebellion. There was a possibility more of them were about. “Taft, have some of the men go and find the other patrols,” he said. “Tell them to stop any carts they see and search them for more of these women. If they were trying to flee, then we are likely
already too late to stop them, but we have to try.”

  Taft nodded and moved to speak with the remaining men as Keller looked down at the dead man. The more pieces he discovered, the less everything made sense. Continuing to stare at the driver, he wondered how many others of his guild were involved and if they had any other duties besides transporting murderesses. There was also the question of why they had yet to see the supposed attacks Skart had spoken of. He would have thought that by now it would have started. Perhaps it had been an elaborate plan in case they had been captured. Skart would confess certain lies and his leader would kill him to affirm their legitimacy. He pushed the thought away. There were too many problems with that type of plan, like Marish having the opportunity to kill his comrade. No, the information Skart had given was likely the truth, but there was too much more that Keller did not know.

  “What should we do now?” Prasil asked.

  The answer to both Prasil’s question and his own about when the attacks would happen was revealed as an orange light bloomed over the buildings. It was quickly followed by another and then another, the last he recognized as being near the temple where the prisoners were being held. He was already moving his small group in that direction with the remaining ten men of the patrol on their heels. His lungs were burning by the time he reached the site of the third fire. It wasn’t the temple itself that was burning, but a large shop several buildings down the street. Some of the soldiers who had been stationed on the temple steps had moved to the fire, the men joining civilians who had come from their homes to form a bucket chain from a nearby well. As more people poured out to help, ignoring the curfew in the process, he considered ordering them back into their homes but dismissed the notion immediately. The fire was a threat to everyone except those who had started it, and it needed to be controlled. He could only assume that similar scenes were playing out all across the northern city.