Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two

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Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two Page 14

by Brian S. Pratt


  Not far past the Ambassador’s room the hallway ended at another passage running to the right and left. A glance to the right showed the beginning of an upward staircase. He moved in that direction and then stepped lively as he ascended to the next level.

  Fortune smiled upon him for the stairway continued to the second level where Sara said Ceadric could be found. The steps continued on to a third level, but Kip stepped from the landing and turned left into the hallway.

  “Now…” he mumbled to himself, “need to find the room across from the bust of some lord or another.”

  The trappings upon this level were much finer than those in the ones below. A soft rug ran the length of the hallway and displayed not far from the stairwell was a fine tapestry. Taller than Kip and wider than he could stretch his arms, it was perhaps the largest of its kind that Kip had ever seen. The Temple had nothing to compare.

  Two armies fought upon a field of snow. One held the high ground and the other strove to expel them from it. Neither side looked to be winning and the uniform designations were unfamiliar to the young novice. They definitely weren’t the Lord Black Hawk’s or that of Madoc’s soldiery. He recalled overhearing a conversation between Jiron and the Dark Mage in which he learned that this castle had once belonged to the Empire. It had been liberated several years ago near the end of the war.

  Upon realizing he had paused a length of time before it, Kip pulled his eyes away and hurried on.

  The first door had no niche or bust opposite it upon the wall. The second had a torch sconce. The third had a less than spectacular tapestry hanging next to it while the fourth had nothing.

  A little farther ahead, the corridor came to an end. There was but one door remaining. He sighed in relief upon spying the wall niche opposite the door. As he drew nearer, the bust of a helmed man sitting within came into view. Kip paused before the door. This was the one.

  As he raised his hand to knock and make his presence known, muffled voices came from the other side. Years on the streets had made him cautious about interrupting someone at an inopportune moment. Lowering his hand, he placed an ear against the door.

  One voice definitely belonged to a man. The other could possibly have been a woman though the thickness of the door made it difficult to tell.

  This was the meeting Ceadric was involved with? A tryst?

  Kip sighed. There was nothing for it. Raising his hand again, he rapped smartly three times upon the door. Instantly, the voices within quieted. A moment later the door opened.

  He who opened the door was of average height with a touch of gray around the temples and retained a strong physique. Battle scars lined his arms, and his face bore a long ago wound, two inches in length that traveled little less than horizontal along his left jaw line. Though dressed in night clothes, he could be none other than the Ceadric whom the Dark Mage described.

  When his eyes fell upon Kip, they narrowed slightly. “I thought I left…”

  Before Kip knew what was happening, the man’s arm reached out, grabbed him by the front of his page tabard and yanked him unceremoniously into the room.

  The young novice stumbled and crashed into the side of a small table, overturning a bottle of wine. When he righted himself and turned around, the point of a sword hovered less than a hair’s breadth from his chest. Swallowing hard, Kip raised his eyes and looked upon an expression promising mayhem and possibly death.

  “Who are you, boy?”

  Kip’s eyes flicked to the lady standing near the bed. She wore but a flimsy gown that left nothing to the imagination. Her hand was raised before her mouth as she looked upon the scene unfolding before her with ill-concealed fright.

  He couldn’t blurt out his message while she remained in the room. Both Jiron and the Dark Mage had been most implicit on this point.

  “No one can know we are here,” the Dark Mage had said.

  “But what if I can’t get him alone?”

  Jiron had given him a look that spoke volumes. Emphasizing each word by jabbing his finger at the novice, he had said, “Then you say nothing.”

  Thinking fast, Kip replied, “I bear a message from the Kirken Ambassador.”

  Pain blossomed as the sword point began digging into the front of the tunic.

  “Don’t lie to me, boy.”

  The sword point left the middle of his chest and settled upon where Black Hawk’s insignia had been embroidered into the material. Ceadric once again applied painful pressure. “I know every Page in service to Lord Black Hawk and you are not one. So I ask you again, who are you?”

  The pain inflicted by the sword slowly, yet inexorably, increased while he remained silent. His eyes flicked to the woman. If not for her, he could speak freely and deliver his message. Fabric parted beneath the pressure until the blade reached skin. Kip backed up until he came into contact with the table. The blade advanced in equal measure.

  He was going to die right there if he didn’t do something drastic. Young though he was, he had much experience getting out of tricky predicaments such as this. One who failed to adapt quickly to threatening situations doesn’t last long when they lived on the streets.

  Grabbing hold of the table edge with both hands, Kip thrust his upper body back over the tabletop while at the same time bringing up his foot to strike the blade. Then with legs arcing through the air, Kip rolled across the tabletop to land upon the floor on the opposite side of the table.

  The woman screamed when a blade appeared in his hand.

  Ceadric took hold of the table and thrust it aside. The overturned wine bottle flew through the air and crashed upon the floor

  Kip knew he was unlikely to receive quarter from the aged Raider. Feinting away from the woman, he quickly changed direction when Ceadric moved in that direction to intercept him. With a cry, he raised his knife and launched himself after the woman.

  That was enough for her. Screaming, she fled for the door.

  “Call the guard,” Ceadric yelled as he moved to place his body between the young novice and the woman in flight.

  Kip came to a halt as the sword once again took position before his chest.

  Ceadric gave Kip a crooked smile, then said in a voice loud enough to carry out to the hallway, “He isn’t going anywhere.” The sword point hovered less than a hand span from his chest as his expression turned dark and eyes full of promised misery locked onto the young novice’s. “Are you?”

  “No.”

  The woman’s screams grew fainter as her panicked flight carried her farther down the hallway.

  “Now boy, I…”

  “Miko and The Gardener wish to talk.”

  Kip searched Ceadric’s eyes for understanding. At first there was irritation for having been interrupted, then confusion quickly followed as he mulled over the words.

  Rapidly approaching footsteps announced the imminent appearance of the guard.

  “They said to mention Brook’s Hollow.”

  There were very few who knew that The Dark Mage was also known by the title, The Gardener. Neither The Dark Mage nor the High Priest was certain if Ceadric had ever known. Jiron had suggested mentioning Brook’s Hollow for it had been the gathering place for Black Hawk’s Raiders when Illan assumed the infamous title once again.

  He may not have known anything about The Gardener, but the High Priest hadn’t been the High Priest at the time. At the time when Black Hawk resurfaced, and his Raiders had gathered at Brook’s Hollow, the man now known as the High Priest of Morcyth had been only Miko.

  “Sir!”

  Guards rushed in. Two took hold of Kip while others searched the room for accomplices. Questions were asked and summarily ignored.

  Eyes never leaving Ceadric’s, Kip saw how in a single instant, the man’s expression transformed from confusion to understanding. The sword point lowered to the floor.

  “Shall we take him to the dungeon, sir?”

  Ceadric glanced to the young officer and shook his head. “No. I don’t think that
will be necessary.” Sheathing his sword, he signaled for the two guards holding Kip to release the young novice.

  “Clear the room and post two guards outside the door. No one is to enter.”

  The officer looked quizzically from Ceadric to Kip, then back again. “Yes, sir.”

  Kip remained still while the guards vacated the room. Once the door was closed and he stood alone with the Raider Captain, he sighed.

  Ceadric motioned toward a chair that had been overturned during the earlier scuffle.

  Kip righted the chair and sat while Ceadric returned the table to its previous position and pulled another chair forward so he and Kip sat on opposite sides facing each other.

  Elder fighter gazed uncertainly across the table at the young novice. “What is your name, boy?”

  “Kip, milord.”

  Ceadric shook his head. “I’m no lord, son. Call me Captain.”

  “As you wish, Captain, uh,” Kip paused a moment, then added, “Ceadric?”

  The Raider Captain nodded. “Right hand to Lord Black Hawk.” His expression darkened ever so slightly. “If this is some trick…”

  “No trick, mi’, I mean, Captain. I am a novice in service to the god Morcyth. There have been certain events of which you need to be made aware.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “The Gardener had been away and has now returned, though he would prefer the world to remain ignorant of that fact. At least for now.”

  Ceadric nodded. “I can appreciate that. There were rumors that he had been killed.”

  Kip shook his head. “He is very much alive, I assure you.”

  “What does he want?”

  “I think I should leave that for him and the Reverend Father to explain. I was merely to find you and deliver their message. And if you are willing, to guide you to where they are waiting.” He paused a moment, then added, “Alone.”

  At that, the Raider Captain arched an eyebrow. “How do I know you are who you say you are? It would seem odd for one of your station to be sent as messenger.”

  “I was all they had, Captain.” Kip couldn’t help but let a small grin show as he said, “And since I am here talking with you, I was the right choice.”

  Ceadric’s solemn demeanor broke and a matching grin surfaced. “So it would seem.”

  “As for how you are to know I am who I claim to be, you must take that on faith.”

  The grin vanished.

  “I would like to apologize for scaring the lady as I did. It was the only way I could think of for us to be alone so I could deliver my message.”

  “Well, I’m sure she will overcome the terror of the moment. You are a brave and resourceful lad, Kip.”

  “Resourceful, maybe. But brave? Up until you cleared the room, I was quaking in my boots.”

  Ceadric cast a quizzical look to the uniform Kip wore. “A Page’s boots?”

  Kip tried looking sufficiently remorseful when he replied, “Well, about that…”

  Chapter Eleven

  Al-Ziron lay quiet at this late hour. Two cowled figures walked in silent procession from the Keep. One, smaller than the other, led while the second followed three paces behind holding a throwing dagger.

  After much questioning, Ceadric had believed him, to a point.

  “I shall go to this meeting, young Kip. But I warn you,” pulling a slim dagger from his boot, he showed it to the novice, “if this is a trick, you will be the first to die.”

  Kip swallowed hard and nodded. “It is not a trick, I assure you.”

  They had waited within the room while two cloaks with deep hoods were brought to shield their identities from unfriendly eyes. Ceadric had at first balked at such covert requirements, but Kip had said that The Dark Mage had requested it.

  Now, Kip led the Raider Captain through darkened streets lit only intermittently by street lamps and open doorways. His shoulders tingled, fearing that at any moment the point of Ceadric’s dagger would find its home.

  They were en route to The Split Cauldron, a less-than-reputable eatery located on the fringe where the poorer quarter merged with the better part of town. Its upper story boasted rooms that could be had for a day, or even by the hour.

  Kip did his best to remember the route, but soon became lost in the unfamiliar territory and had been forced to seek Ceadric’s aid in reaching the eatery.

  The Raider Captain had cursed a blue streak when informed of their destination.

  “It’s on the other side of town!”

  Kip withered beneath the verbal barrage.

  Grabbing the young novice, Ceadric thrust him in the right direction, still keeping a three pace gap between them. When they came to intersecting avenues, he would instruct Kip as to which way to go.

  After what seemed an eternity the sign bearing a cracked, leaky cauldron came into view. It was a three story establishment, the upper two levels devoted to rooms that few, other than beggars and the destitute would ever consider staying in.

  No less than three beggars bearing various handicaps from loss of hands, eyes, and stumps for legs held forth hands at their approach. Ceadric didn’t so much as glance their way as he swept past and entered the eatery’s common room.

  The smell was appalling. Acrid smoke wafted forth as the door opened. Kip detected the odors of at least two illegal substances in the air as he followed the Raider Captain.

  “They are on the next level above, second door on the left. Knock three times, followed by two.”

  Ceadric nodded and turned for the stairwell. Kip fell in behind.

  An old man in ragged clothes lay passed out on the floor before the first step and they had to step over the prone body. Midway up, another man, this one probably in his early twenties stared with vacant eyes. A smoldering weed clutched in-between his lips.

  It was the leaf of the Millae Plant. A single leaf, when rolled tightly and smoked, can offer the user an intense high for a short duration. Kip had known a few that used the drug. They said it opened their minds to the gods. While under the drug’s effects, visions would come.

  Kip never thought much of the drug. Those who used it tended to have burns upon their lips because the drug rendered the user nearly comatose. The weed would continue to burn until the smoldering end reached the lips. By then, though, the user was so out of it that they failed to react when the smoldering weed burned the tender flesh. Considering the numerous scars on both upper and lower lips, this man was obviously a regular user of Millae.

  More mind-numbed denizens of this place filled the second floor landing. The odor of Millae was overpowering.

  Kip heard Ceadric mumble something under his breath, something along the lines of having to “clean this place up,” as the Raider Captain stepped over the overlapping bodies.

  The hallway was little better. A woman dressed in little more than a single wrap that did little to cover her feminine attributes leaned against the second door on the left. Her eyes were as vacant as those on the landing.

  Ceadric glanced from the woman to Kip. Upon receiving Kip’s shake of the head indicating he didn’t recognize her, the Raider Captain nudged her farther into the hallway. She took two wobbly steps before stumbling over another lying upon the floor. Neither she, nor the man upon whom she fell made a sound.

  The silence was broken by three quick raps upon the door, followed a moment later by two more. The door opened a crack.

  Kip recognized Father Keller. The priest took in Ceadric and Kip before fully opening the door. Motioning for them to enter, he gave Ceadric a slight bow. For Kip there was a brief grin and a nod of approval.

  Three figures sat around the lone table on the far side of the room. A fourth chair remained vacant. The room was small with but one bed whereupon two others were seated.

  Ceadric crossed the room toward the vacant chair. Kip moved to sit upon the bed next to Jira and Father Vickor. None spoke until the door shut and Father Keller threw the bolt.

  James, Jiron and Miko stood a
s Ceadric drew near.

  “I am glad to see you, Ceadric.”

  The Raider Captain took the hand James extended and shook it. “We heard you were dead.”

  “As you can see, the rumors were less than accurate.”

  His stoic demeanor softened and a grin appeared. “I’m afraid I didn’t give much credence to your messenger. But he had enough right answers for me to doubt he was up to no good.”

  Jiron motioned for the Raider Captain to sit, then he, James and Miko returned to their seats as well.

  “I hope you understand that discretion is paramount at this time.”

  Ceadric nodded to the one-time pit fighter. “Completely.” Turning to James, he asked, “What did happen?”

  “I’m afraid we don’t have much time to go into any great detail. Suffice it to say that my island was attacked by men in the uniform of The Empire.”

  His expression turned serious. “The Empire?”

  James shrugged. “I don’t know if they were behind the attack, or if I was meant to believe they were had the attack failed.”

  “Have you heard anything from within The Empire that might shed light on this?”

  Ceadric glanced to Jiron and shook his head. “Not a thing. Their warlords are busy fighting one another and I doubt if any care enough about you to launch an attack. In fact, most see you as being the one having given them the opportunity to seize power.” After half a moment, he added, “You might want to speak with Illan about this.”

  “We heard he was out of the Aerie,” James said.

  “He is. Three days ago word came of trouble over in the Briddlestone Hills off to the west. He left with three-score men to investigate.”

  “Nothing serious I hope.”

  “Three men and two women from several villages in the Hills have gone missing over the last two weeks. Several farmers claim they’ve lost livestock as well.”

  “Bandits, do you think?” Miko asked.

 

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