Bloodmage

by Stephen Aryan

  Despite our best efforts we didn’t anticipate the next move. Seven Zecorran women were killed by a local Yerskani man. Witnesses reported hearing him screaming racial insults as he gutted them with a knife. It took five members of the Watch to restrain him. At first we didn’t even realise the Flesh Mage was responsible. Two days later a group of merchants from Seveldrom were murdered by a Drassi mercenary for no reason. More incidents followed and with each unexplainable attack tension in the city began to mount.

  The first Flesh Mage had used her power to turn people into brutal creatures. With each attack her strength increased and the scale of the events grew. This time the Flesh Mage is letting others do the work for him as racial divisions threaten to tear the city apart. When that happens the Flesh Mage will feed on the violence and magnify the effects. If the goal is the same, then the Flesh Mage will open a doorway to some other place, perhaps some other world, and whatever is on the other side will cross the threshold.

  If the Flesh Mage succeeds I believe the death toll would be catastrophic.

  Fray noticed the usually neat handwriting of his father had changed over the last few pages. Towards the end it was starting to become illegible, suggesting it had been written at speed or that his father’s hands had been trembling. Either way it told Fray his father had been afraid. With hands that wouldn’t stop shaking, Fray turned to the last journal entry, which was very short.

  It’s happening tonight. Every member of the Watch and every Guardian will be on duty patrolling the streets, doing their best to keep the city calm. The Queen has called in the army, but they will only be deployed if the situation gets out of hand.

  I should be out there, but the Old Man has me sitting here, waiting for the first murder. The Flesh Mage will be close by and then it will be up to me to stop it, before everyone in the city is ripped apart by friends and family.

  I have so many regrets, so many things I wish I had said, but I’m out of time.

  I was always proud of you, Fray, and I love you.

  Fray dropped the pages and began to weep.

  CHAPTER 27

  Just as she’d done a few nights ago, Katja followed Rodann’s directions to the abandoned temple. She hadn’t known it was a temple on her last visit, but had since looked into the worn-out building. Long ago it had been dedicated to an old God, one whose name no one remembered. Over the decades it had been rented by various people, merchants, a group of scribes, a silversmith, countless others, but they never settled for long and the building constantly changed hands.

  A few months ago someone had bought it, but so far Roza’s contacts couldn’t tell her who owned the building. Katja suspected the mysterious benefactor behind Rodann and Teigan had arranged it.

  Whether it was imagined or real Katja believed someone had been following her since leaving the shop. She’d taken extra precautions, doubling back several times and going in a long circuitous route, until she felt confident she’d lost them. Even so, something niggled at the back of her mind.

  Shrugging off the feeling as nothing more than paranoia she knocked on the door, one hand on her dagger in case of trouble. As before, Teigan answered the door and carefully locked it before leading Katja to the comfortable room at the end of the corridor. This time as they passed by the storage rooms Katja looked more closely at the worn statues, but despite her knowledge of religious texts nothing looked familiar.

  As before, the room at the end of the hall was kept warm with glowing embers in the fireplace but the heat didn’t touch Katja. A chill ran down her spine as she crossed the threshold and her eyes came to rest on a spot in front of the fire where the baker had died. Where she had murdered a man. It wasn’t the first life she’d taken, but his face wouldn’t leave her thoughts.

  Rodann sat at a table off to one side with Faith and he gestured for Katja to join them. He drained the last of some soup and mopped up the dregs with a hunk of bread. To Katja’s surprise Teigan sat down at the table as well. Faith regarded everyone coolly over a glass of red wine. The smell of it, and the soup, turned Katja’s stomach and she tasted bile. To see them eating and drinking as if nothing of consequence had happened in the room made her feel sick. The ample cushions on the chair did little to relieve her discomfort and she sat upright. All of it served as a reminder that despite any words to the contrary she was not among friends and their work did not serve the greater good.

  “Faith told me what you did with the nobles,” said Rodann as he washed down the bread with a gulp of ale. “Very impressive. Lord and Lady Venarra were convinced. They still have no idea why you were really there.”

  “That’s good news,” said Katja. “Do I need to go and see them again?”

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Rodann before looking at Faith expectantly. “Shouldn’t you be on your way?”

  “No,” said Faith, calmly sipping her wine. “Actually I’m not moving from this chair until you explain what all of this is for.”

  “We’ve spoken about this. We’re helping to—” said Rodann but Faith cut him off.

  “Save your platitudes and talk of the greater good. I’m not a dullard like the penny-pinching nobles, or that shrew Marcella and her lump of a husband.”

  Teigan glared and started to reach for her sword but Faith froze her with an icy stare. “And you can stop your pathetic posturing, Teigan. I’m not intimidated by your bulging muscles and pea-sized brain.”

  “I’ll fucking gut you,” snarled Teigan, starting to draw her sword. Rodann jumped to his feet and shoved Teigan back, while Faith watched them both with a bored expression. Teigan continued to twitch and snarl but Rodann slowly talked her down until eventually she sheathed her sword.

  Faith sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes at Katja, who offered a brief grin which vanished when Rodann returned to the table. Teigan stayed on her feet, leaning against the door, but Faith just shook her head at the feeble attempt to intimidate her.

  “I’m not a cat’s-paw for you to play with. You haven’t paid me, you couldn’t afford me and I wouldn’t let you touch me for all the gold in Yerskania.”

  “No need to be spiteful,” said Rodann, who’d lost some of his familiar arrogance.

  “So we’re clear, I’m here because I want to be,” stressed Faith. “But if you don’t tell me what we’re doing, I’ll leave and not return. While you may not miss me, I know you’ll miss having access to my contacts. So, make your choice.”

  Faith didn’t glance at the door, or the rather large woman stood in front of it, and didn’t seem concerned about getting out of the room. Katja suddenly wondered what the escort had concealed beneath her expensive dress. Probably something nasty in case Teigan tried to get in the way.

  “You’re right,” said Rodann. “I have been treating you like the others and clearly you’re a remarkable woman.”

  Faith’s top lip curled into a sneer. “Save your flattery for someone who needs it. Just tell me the truth.”

  “All right,” he said, holding up a hand towards Teigan, who had started to protest. “We need her and she can keep a secret.”

  “Fine, but Katja leaves,” said Teigan.

  “She stays,” said Faith, which surprised everyone, including Katja.

  “May I ask why?” asked Rodann with exaggerated politeness.

  “Because you need her too, and she’s almost at the same place as me. You may as well just tell us both.”

  Rodann made a pretence of seeing to the fire, but he obviously needed a few minutes to think things through. Once the fire had been built up he returned to his seat and poured himself another mug of ale. Katja declined his offer as her stomach was still churning.

  “Queen Talandra of Seveldrom will shortly be arriving here for a state visit. On the first night of her visit there will be a formal banquet in her honour.” A tremor passed through Rodann’s body, but Katja didn’t know if it was a thrill of delight or anger held in check. It was also the first time he’d mentioned Talandra in one o
f their meetings. Katja realised she was holding her breath and slowly breathed out. “To free our people from the shackles of foreign interference, Queen Talandra must die.”

  Faith’s cool façade cracked and she sat back in her chair with a shocked expression. Katja tried to look equally surprised as if she were hearing the news for the first time.

  “Why?” asked Katja. “Why kill Queen Talandra?”

  Rodann stared at her as if she had asked why water was wet. “In many ways she’s worse than Morganse. The west was united in peace, but she wouldn’t join us and in doing so caused the war.”

  “Taikon was a mad man and a butcher,” said Faith. “It was a mockery of peace.” Rodann started to protest but Faith held up a hand, cutting him off. “We could argue all day about that, but right now it doesn’t matter. The war happened and now he’s dead. You cannot change the past. So why kill Talandra now?”

  “Because we lost,” snapped Rodann, grinding his teeth. “And we’re still paying the price.”

  Faith looked as confused as Katja felt. “What price?” Katja asked, a second ahead of the escort.

  “What normally happens when someone loses a war and surrenders?” asked Rodann, his tone bordering on this being a lecture.

  “Reparations are paid and treaties are signed.”

  “Exactly. And where are they? Money was paid to Seveldrom, but what about the treaties?” he asked, and neither Katja nor Faith had an answer. “Do you really think the Queen of Seveldrom would make the long journey to Perizzi on a whim? She’s here to check up on her growing empire.”

  Faith arched an eyebrow. “Talandra rules Yerskania?”

  “Morganse sits on her throne only at Seveldrom’s behest. That was the price of surrender after the war. Morganse is nothing more than a puppet for Talandra. Yerskania has always been a nation that has dealt with others, but we’ve never been their subjects. Morganse is weak and not fit to rule. She was given her throne back only because Talandra allowed it. Seveldrom must be shown that we are our own people and we must have someone worthy sitting on the throne.”

  There was a form of twisted logic to Rodann’s words. Katja could see how some might believe the lies. After all, Morganse had stepped down from the throne when her son was threatened. But his idea that Yerskania was secretly being ruled by Talandra seemed ridiculous, and yet he had convinced at least a dozen people that it was true.

  “So, you want to kill both Queens during Talandra’s state visit?”

  “Yes.”

  Katja looked at Teigan for confirmation that Rodann hadn’t lost his mind. She met Katja’s gaze for a second and in that look she saw the depth of the warrior’s commitment. Teigan believed in this cause absolutely and would die trying to see it happen.

  “A bold move,” said Faith. “Incredibly stupid though. By killing Morganse all you’re going to do is create chaos and probably trigger another war.”

  “Ahhh,” said Rodann and some of the smugness returned to his demeanour. “But if the blame were to fall squarely on Seveldrom’s shoulders, well…” he said with a shrug and left the rest unspoken.

  Most people primarily blamed the Zecorrans for the war as it was their Mad King who had united the west with the help of the Warlock. It wasn’t that simple or easy, but people just needed someone to blame. It was why Zecorrans now travelled in groups and merchants always used Drassi mercenaries as guards. But there was still an undercurrent of hatred in Yerskania towards Seveldrom for killing so many of its soldiers during the war. The early massacre had been orchestrated by Taikon, but it was Seveldrom that had wielded the swords.

  “There will be chaos for a while, and unfortunately some innocent lives will be lost,” admitted Rodann. “But the west will unite against a common enemy. Seveldrom must be taught they cannot interfere in our sovereign affairs. As the heart of the west, Yerskania will need a worthy new leader to make urgent decisions. One who is worthy of wearing the crown.”

  Whoever Rodann was working for wanted to sit on the throne, but in a city littered with nobles where many of them had viable claims, it would take a long time to identify his benefactor. Even so, it gave Katja a starting point.

  She also noticed he kept saying someone who was worthy, and Katja didn’t think Rodann measured worth by their deeds. They would need considerable wealth, and Yerskania had only half a dozen families that could trace their lineage back to the founding of the capital. Their claim would have to be a strong one.

  “Who are you working for?” asked Katja, but Rodann just grinned at her.

  “Once Morganse is gone a number of supporters will speak out in favour of my benefactor taking their rightful position on the throne. Some of the nobility will also add their voices to the cause, like Lord and Lady Venarra.”

  “Will we ever get to meet her?” asked Katja, knowing she had a one in two chance of guessing the gender of his benefactor.

  Rodann offered another of his annoying grins. “Maybe, one day.” He hadn’t corrected her, which could mean something, or was he just playing with her?

  “Why kill Queen Talandra at the palace?” asked Faith. “Why not on the road?”

  “It must be here, to ensure there are witnesses who will help point the finger at Seveldrom. It will happen in such a way that there will be no doubt as to who is responsible.”

  “You’re still not telling us everything,” said Faith. “Where are you getting your information?”

  Rodann crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I receive orders the same as you and there are some things I won’t share. If that’s a problem you’re free to leave.”

  “Fine,” said Faith. “I still think you’re deluded, but I’m curious to see where this goes, so I’ll stay.”

  “What about you?” asked Rodann, turning his attention to Katja. “Are you still with us?”

  “You said some innocent lives will be lost. It will be a lot more than a few.”

  Rodann shrugged. “The price of freedom is steep. I’d rather die trying to free my country than live under the boot heel of someone else.”

  Katja drew her dagger, pulled Rodann across the table and put the blade against his throat. “If you’re keen to die, I’m happy to oblige.”

  Rodann’s eyes widened but he waved Teigan back and Katja heard her step away.

  “I’m not ready to die, just yet.”

  “And yet you assume much by speaking for others. Who are you to decide their fate?” asked Katja, pushing the steel just a little harder until it drew blood.

  “I’m just the catalyst,” said Rodann, doing his best to stay absolutely still.

  “You’re not doing this for the greater good. You’re doing it for yourself. So what do you get in return?”

  Rodann shrugged, a tiny lift of his shoulders. “I’ve faithfully served the Crown for years. The only reward is what I’m rightfully due.”

  Katja shoved him away from her in disgust and sheathed her blade.

  “What did you expect?” said Faith. “Everyone is selfish. Everyone wants something. Revenge, money, power. Why are you here?”

  “I’m not sure any more,” said Katja, shaking her head. The room was starting to feel too hot and small. Pain was blossoming behind her eyes.

  “Your compassion is a strength but also a weakness,” said Rodann, dabbing at the tiny cut on his throat with a cloth. “I ask you to put it aside until the worst is over. After that I’m sure we could find you a position and put it to good use to help the people.”

  “Once this is over, I never want to see you again.”

  “Fine, but I assume that means you’re still with us. Time is short, and we don’t have long to get everything in place.”

  “So what do you want me to do now?”

  “It’s time we utilised your network of contacts,” said Rodann.

  Katja’s heart skipped a beat. Her hand crept back towards her dagger. “My what?”

  “We didn’t recruit you because of your knowledge about religion,
although that has proven useful,” said Rodann. “We chose you because of the people you’ve dealt with. All of them have come to you in their darkest hour, when they were at their most vulnerable. They lean on you, talk to you and ask you for all sorts of favours. They pay you for your silence. Now it’s time to ask them for a favour in return.”

  “And if they won’t help us?”

  “I’m sure you can think of a way to motivate them,” said Rodann with a villainous grin.

  CHAPTER 28

  Munroe felt out of her depth but she did her best not to show her unease. She’d tried to appear mean and intimidating, but quickly gave up on the idea when it made her look constipated. She sighed and wondered again why she’d agreed to do this. She also wondered why Don Jarrow had asked her instead of Vargus to accompany him.

  Part of her knew she should be excited by the change, as this wasn’t her usual job, but the tail-end of a hangover still niggled at the back of her brain. Every time they passed a rowdy tavern she wanted to stop off and have a couple of whiskies to ease her head, but Don Jarrow had forbidden it. He hadn’t given her an order as such, but he had indicated how disappointed he’d be if she were drunk and not at her best for the meeting. It made sense, but she didn’t have to like it.

  A few paces ahead Don Jarrow walked with purpose, his shaggy head constantly moving as his eyes swept the streets for signs of trouble. Munroe remembered she was supposed to be doing the same, given that she was the Don’s bodyguard for the night. The only thing she saw was people averting their eyes and sometimes changing direction to move away from Don Jarrow. The man had a fierce reputation and although they were no longer on his turf people knew better than to interfere in his business. He carried no visible weapons but she knew him to be a cautious man. She thought he had a short sword strapped to his leg. Either that or the rumours were true after all.