by Kal Spriggs
Otherwise, Katarina had no doubt as to what Hector's mercenaries would do to her people. Out in the open and without any shelter, the better equipped and more numerous mercenaries would easily encircle and overwhelm her people.
Katarina stared at the approaching band. They seemed a different makeup from the other two that had passed earlier in the morning. The fifteen men seemed clustered tightly and their commander seemed less concerned than the previous patrols as to the possibility of ambush.
Gerlin had pulled most of their people deep into the woods when the last patrols had sent scouts to clear the out-thrust finger of woods. This band simply rode forward as if totally unconcerned by the possibility.
“Ready?” she asked.
Gerlin nodded, “After you take your shot, the others will fire what ranged weapons we have.” He'd objected to her decision to send most of their ranged weapons with Bulmor's force. Katarina managed not to roll her eyes at his rebuke. But only just.
She brought up her wand as the band neared. If anything, they seemed to cluster even tighter as they approached the woods. She frowned, surprised at how they grouped up into a perfect target. Katarina doubted they realized the danger, the rarity of magic weapons such as hers made spreading out to avoid such weapons uncommon, except when enemies had good reason to expect such attacks.
Katarina took aim as the patrol drew within sixty feet. She centered her aim on the leader of the band, a short, dark haired woman who rode near the center of the formation. She doubted the shot would hit her directly, but accuracy with this wand was far less important.
She triggered the activation rune. A beam of raw energy shot out.
It slammed into something with a flash of light and heat... but no detonation. Katarina blinked her dazzled eyes and then stared in shock at the unharmed formation of men and the dark, shadowy form which hung over them.
She saw her people fire their bows. Yet that same shadowy form seemed to snatch them out of the air or they bounced off, Katarina couldn't be certain.
The formation swung in unison. Each of the men drew weapons and dismounted, except their leader, who remained on her horse. “Lady Katarina, surrender yourself, step out of the forest, and I will spare your men.”
Katarina stared in shock. She felt something icy twist her stomach into knots. Around her she heard mutters come from her people. The woman had magic of her own. Was she a wizard or enchanter of some type? Katarina drew her second wand, but only held it ready.
“I know you are there and I know you have thirty six... well I suppose I might call them fighters. Ragged and untrained, pitiful, really.” The woman paused, “I am Lady Moratha of Taral and I give you my word that your men will not be turned over to Lord Hector if you surrender.”
“What proof do I have of that?” Katarina called out. She saw Gerlin shake his head, but she ignored him. She had to get this woman to open herself up to an attack. She gestured at him towards the side and he seemed to take her meaning.
“Why, my word as a Lady isn't enough?” Moratha asked.
“No.” Katarina called back.
“I thought not. Tell your friend to stop trying to circle around to my side, if you value his life,” Moratha said. “Salvis doesn't like it when people try to get sneaky.”
“Salvis?”
“My companion. He did enjoy your little light display, though, he found it quite tasty. I don't think the other one will give him even a slight jolt though,”
Katarina lowered her wand slightly, “You seem to have us at a disadvantage.”
“Oh, I definitely have you at a disadvantage. And because I do... and because I know you still don't know how outclassed you are, I'll let you in on a bit of a secret. But only if you promise to come out.”
“You swear that you will let my men go free?” Katarina asked. She heard several of them shout out warnings, but she ignored that. She sensed that this woman held all the cards. Her only hope, at this point, was to talk her way out.
“That will depend upon your behavior,” Moratha said.
Katarina stood. She heard Gerlin bite back a curse, but she ignored him as she walked toward the woman and her guards.
Katarina glanced at the guards as she approached. Unlike Hector's normal mercenaries, these didn't wear his black eagle symbol. They wore gray tunics with a white rose instead. Something about their stillness and their dull, dead gazes made her shiver. Up close, she studied the other woman. She looked to be short, with curly brown hair and tan skin. Her eyes, however, caught Katarina's attention. They were mismatched, one violet and the other yellow, and the woman's disconcerting gaze put Katarina in disjointed, uncertain, state
“Thank you. I had worried that you would be difficult,” Moratha said, her voice pitched for normal conversation. “But I must admit, now that I have you, I'm at a bit of a loss as to what to do with you.”
“Oh?” Katarina felt a surge of hope.
“Yes... Lord Hector has offered a substantial sum for proof of your death,” Moratha said with a slight smile. “Covle Darkbit has offered a bit more for you to be quietly delivered to him and to testify that you were killed to Hector, so I could claim both rewards... though the truth will out, I'm certain, and that might damage my reputation.”
“And lets see... there's a delightful fellow who goes by the name Xavien who wants you turned over to him and his price is quite lovely too, though I think I'd be doing you a favor if I killed you here and now rather do that,” Moratha sighed, “And really, I can't abide what he does to women, so I probably must decide between a corpse and a live girl who will seek to escape... or you could make me an offer.”
“Me?” Katarina said. “I'm your prisoner, you seem to be a bounty hunter, I would think that taking me in would be preferable.” She couldn't help but put a savage bitterness in her voice.
“I'm a mercenary, dear, not some savage headhunter. I have some principles, but you've shown some spirit and I really don't like all this male chauvinism that seeks to control us girls,” Moratha blinked her long dark lashes and tossed her dark curls. “It's just silly that the men should get their way. So how about this... you would owe me, say, three favors, sworn upon your honor and when I come to call, you would obey my request, no argument, no question.”
“That sounds... very reasonable,” Katarina said. “I-”
Lady Katarina, wait. Katarina looked around in surprise. She heard the voice, not with her ears, but in her mind. She stared at Moratha in suspicion, was this some sort of trick, an attempt by the woman to gain control of her mind? Lady Katarina, I am a friend. I am on my way, only a short distance away. Do not agree to Moratha's bargain, wait until I arrive.
Something of Katarina's suspicion must have shown on her face. Moratha's smooth voice spoke, “Lady Katarina, it is a simple request, and one I think you must find far better than the alternative.” She held up her hands, “After all, having met the men willing to pay me for you, well, Hector seems to be the best of the three... and he wants you dead.”
“What kind of payment did they offer you?” Katarina asked.
Moratha narrowed her mismatched eyes, “Well... that is an interesting question. I'd prefer not to go into specifics, trade secrets and all.” Moratha glanced around, as if reassuring herself that she still held the upper hand. “I will say that Covle offers information, which I would find useful, though not irreplaceable. Hector offered me access to the Ducal Vault at Castle Emberhill.”
“And the other one, this... Xavien?” Katarina asked.
“Oh... he offered me some considerable power, something that would sate Salvis far more than your little toy,” Moratha said. There was something almost gloating about her tone, like someone who took unholy pleasure in power over others.
“Salvis is what stopped the attack, he's a spirit?” Katarina asked.
Moratha's mismatched eyes narrowed, “You're stalling. Don't think one of your men can sneak up on me. They haven't the protections necessary, and... as I said,
Salvis doesn't like people who try to hurt me.”
“You're a witch... or a warlock, aren't you?” Katarina said, her voice low. She felt a mixture of both terror and revulsion. But the concept fit too well, the woman's desire to bargain, her mercenary nature, and the spirit that protected her.
“Well, let's just say I'm not a holy man,” Moratha said. “Women must be more practical than men, I find. At least, if we're to get anywhere in the world. Call me what you want, but stop with your stalling. Accept my bargain or stop wasting my time.”
Are you there? She thought. The mysterious voice she'd heard didn't answer. “Very well, Lady Moratha of Taral. Thank you for your gracious offer, but I'm afraid I will have to decline at this time.”
“Wise, but unfortunate all the same.” Moratha cocked her head. Her bi-color eyes seemed to visually dissect Katarina. “Well, Salvis, if you'll just prepare her for transport...”
A wave of darkness seemed to materialize around Katarina. For just a moment, she felt a cold weight settle on her mind. Her body, of it's own volition, took a step forward.
Then the world flashed a brilliant white and the feeling vanished.
Moratha gave a sharp scream.
“Tell your pet to back down, Moratha or I will have to destroy it.” A man's calm voice spoke. Katarina turned and where before she saw only bare grass, a short, stocky man with white hair stood. He carried a staff of some type of dark metal and she saw runes covered every inch of it. He wore a simple tunic and breeches of gray wool. She noticed the glint of a pair of rings on his hands, but she saw no other decoration.
Moratha spun, and her face paled, “This is none of your concern, nor that of your master. It is a simple bargain-”
“She is my concern. As are you,” the newcomer didn't raise his voice, “especially if you have chosen sides.”
Moratha shook her head, “I don't involve myself in politics and the power I seek is nothing compared to what your kind seeks, wizard. I can see that I am bested. My men and I will withdraw.”
“They are Condemned, all of them?”
Moratha gave a dark laugh, “Oh, yes. They brought their doom on themselves, and they were fairly judged. I haven't crossed your master's lines, though, who can blame a girl for toeing the line a bit?”
“You may leave, Moratha. I would suggest you avoid this area, there's a lot of room for a witch to get in trouble with all the involved players.”
She grimaced and turned to face Katarina. Her violet eye seemed to glow with energy while her yellow eye smouldered. Her voice, when she spoke, was laden with venom, “You know, girl, he may have saved you from death,and you may feel grateful now, but I warn you, you may wish you'd taken my bargain over his freely offered help.” Around her, her men silently mounted.
“Why is that?” Katarina asked.
“He's a Shrouded Wizard,” Moratha said and she spat on the ground at his feet, “One of Noth's Disciples.” With that, the witch turned her mount and she and her men rode off to the south.
Katarina turned to face her rescuer. “And just why did you come to my aide?” Katarina asked. “For that matter, who are you?”
The wizard gave a slight bow, “Lady Katarina, I am Cederic, of the Shrouded Isle. And yes, I am a Disciple of Noth.”
“Aren't you supposed to be a bit more mysterious?” Katarina asked. She glanced over her shoulder as she saw her people step out of the woods. Several of them still held drawn weapons. She waved at them to draw closer.
“I find being straightforward helps to circumvent the endless suspicion and second-guessing,” Cederic said. He grinned, “Besides, running around in the shadows in a big cloak becomes cumbersome.”
“Why'd you help us?” Gerlin said suspiciously.
“I arrived here with a companion of mine, who is gifted, with certain visions. One of her visions suggests that if Lady Katarina finds success, it paves the way for a better future.” Cederic shrugged. “As for why I intervened between you and Moratha, well, she has a tendency to make deals with those in bad situations. As a witch who dabbles in warlockry, some of those deals can have rather catastrophic results for those who don't go into the bargains knowing the full weight of their words.”
“How did you know where to find us, and how did you get here?” Katarina said. “For that matter, what did you do to stop her when her...”
Cederic raised a hand. “Look, there's time enough for questions later. The rest of your group is only a mile away and they have wounded. Some of Hector's men aren't far behind. I suggest you get your people ready to move. I think they've enough horses for all of you.”
Katarina's eyes narrowed in thought, but she nodded her head. “Very well...” she said, “but since you're such a straightforward sort, I've a number of questions for you.”
“Of course,” he said calmly. He had odd, gray eyes, leached of color, she noticed. “As soon as there is time I shall do what I can to answer them... if I can,” Cederic answered. “And of course, I have some questions of my own."
***
Lady Amelia Tarken
The Eastwood
Second of Tremarn, cycle 999 Post Sundering
The image of the white rose seemed to hang in the air. Amelia continued to focus on the mental illusion, right up until a splash of ice cold water trickled down her back.
She gave a yelp and frantically twitched as what felt like ice cubes ran down the back of her dress. The feeling disappeared as quickly as it had come. Amelia shot a glare towards the corner of the room where Tirianis sat. “Was that necessary?”
“What, me?” the Wold Princess asked. Amelia could imagine no greater image of innocence than the raven-haired, rose-gold skinned woman who sat at her ease on the long couch.
Amelia sighed, “At least it wasn't spiders this time.”
“Well, I thought your retaliation quite excessive,” Tirianis said. “Though very artful. Though I think Simonel could have shown more restraint, rather than encouraging you.” There was the slightest bite in her tone, but still with good humor.
Amelia smiled broadly, “Well, he might have found some humor in it, true enough, but his was mostly moral support.” He had encouraged her to conduct her little revenge and had seemed to delight as much in her own humor as in the reaction of Tirianis.
“Which leads us back to today's exercise. When you tricked me, you did something vastly more complex that what I've asked you to do here. Why, do you think, do you have such difficulty focusing on this task?”
Amelia frowned. She stared at the center of the room, where she tried every day to maintain a mental illusion, often of varying complexity, despite any distractions that Tirianis could throw at her. “I'm not sure,” Amelia said, finally. “Part of it is maintaining the illusion in my own mind, I think. Another part is that it requires constant attention. Whereas what I did with you was just a minor mental nudge, I guess.” She frowned. “And the other things I've done... they're mostly done on instinct, I don't know what to do, but I can feel it.”
“Your ability to read emotions and thoughts has advanced tremendously, to the point that I think you match the skill of the more adept of the People,” Tirianis said. “In many ways, I think your trauma might have strengthened your own mental defenses, which is something I cannot overstate as being of tremendous value.” She frowned, and sat up from the couch. “You find such direct methods of mind magic almost trivial, yet you show no trace of abilities in other areas, which leaves me puzzled.”
Amelia shrugged, “These other abilities you have mentioned are considered so rare as to be legendary in Boir. They're also much more flashy than what I do. On the other hand, someone with skills such as mine might remain unaware of them entirely if they didn't receive training, right?” Amelia found the discovery of her powers both shocking and wondrous, she had never even thought that she might possess such capabilities.
“To an extent,” the Wold Princess nodded and Amelia wondered at the slight hesitation in her friend's ag
reement. “But these things run in families. You come from a Starborn Noble House, I would think that other members of your family would know of this, especially with the longer lifespan of the Starborn, surely some would know.”
Amelia looked away. “Maybe some have. My mother... well, I can't say that what she knew. But my father never showed any sign of such skills.” She thought of Xavien then, though, and she wondered whether he had skills such as hers and if those had led him down his path of darkness.
“It is curious,” Tirianis said. “I wonder if it might be a result of your encounter with this wizard Xavien. It could be some part of his ritual awakened your latent abilities, especially if there were some other connection.”
Amelia felt her face flush. She opened her mouth, uncertain whether her friend had guessed at the hidden truth. Amelia did not know what to say, though and as she stood there, mouth open without words coming out, she realized how much she valued the friendship of the Wold Princess.
A brusque knock on the door saved Amelia from her predicament.
“Enter,” Amelia said.
The door opened and a tall, lean man stepped into the chamber. He wore leathers, heavily inscribed with the High Magic weaves that Amelia had come to recognize for what they were. She had originally thought them merely decorative, until Tirianis had explained about them. She had heard of High Magic, but elsewhere it was rare, for it to be in such common use here was a source of no little awe to her. From watching Simonel spar with some of his people, Amelia knew that the enchanted armor retained the flexibility of its material, but blocked blows better than steel plate.
He had the same jet black hair as most of the Wold, though his skin was darker, a shade of reddish brown the color of clay she had seen before. He gave Amelia a quick glance and then turned to face her friend, “Princess Tirianis, I wished to discuss something with you if you have the time.”
Amelia felt her face flush at the implied insult from his lack of greeting. By and large, she had come to realize that not all of the Wold welcomed her presence, yet the rudeness to ignore her entirely kindled a fire in her stomach.