Kingdoms and Chaos (King's Dark Tidings Book 4)

by Kel Kade

  “They think we had something to do with the destruction here. Orin has been trying to explain, but the dergmyer does not believe the drauglics exist.”

  Brandt called out, “They are coming.”

  Rezkin wrapped his worn brown cloak around him and pulled the hood over his head. To Farson, he said, “The others?”

  “They are in position.”

  “In position for what?” Malcius asked. As Rezkin moved away, Malcius called, “Wait, in position for what?”

  “Be quiet,” Kai huffed. “They are in position to attack if need be. Come with me, and I will position the two of you as well.”

  “We are going to attack a double army patrol?” Malcius exclaimed.

  “If necessary,” Kai said. “Would you rather be executed for murders you did not commit?”

  Rezkin stepped through the doorway onto the front porch but stopped when he noticed a small black and brown splotched cat lying in his path. He made to step around the cat, but it gained its feet quickly then wound itself in figure eights around and between his feet. He wondered if it was a sign that he should wait. He looked to the patrol that was gathered in the road and side yard. Since he stood in the shadow cast by the setting sunlight, they had not yet seen him. Orin’s men knelt in the dirt in a line, and a soldier was preparing to bind their arms.

  “Get them,” the dergmyer said.

  Orin got to his feet and then turned toward the house. He glanced up to see Rezkin as he stepped into the shade of the porch.

  “I’m s’posed to bring y’all out. They think we attacked the plantation, and they won’t listen to reason.”

  “Why are they here?” Rezkin said.

  “They said they was sent to investigate reports of killings and people gone missin’. They ain’t seen the drauglics yet. They says if we give up without a fight, they’ll take us back to Fort Ulep for a trial.” He glanced back to see his men kneeling in the dirt. “Between us, I don’t think they plan to wait. Yers is in good shape, mostly. I wouldn’t blame you if you take yer men and run.”

  Rezkin met the mercenary’s determined gaze. “Yer prepared to die with yer men.”

  Orin looked at his men again. “I must.”

  “They’re yer friends then?”

  “As close as I got, I guess.”

  “Are you prepared to fight fer ’em?” asked Rezkin. Orin looked at him in confusion. Rezkin said, “Yer not supposed to fight unless ya have to, but yer not supposed to get captured or die neither. You protect yerself first, except when it comes to yer friends. You gotta take care of them. Now, yer supposed to retreat when ya can’t win, but this ain’t one of those times.”

  “What do you mean? There’s a double cavalry patrol out there. We got less than two dozen and most of ’em is injured or captured or both. We try to fight, and we’ll all get killed.”

  “Some of ’em, maybe, but we can win. I know our abilities.”

  “That’s ridiculous. Even if we did win, that’s the king’s army. We’ll be hunted fer treason and murder.”

  “Drauglics’ll probably take care of the evidence,” Rezkin said. “Besides, we need horses, and they’ve got horses.”

  “They’ve taken our weapons.”

  Rezkin unstrapped the small crossbow he had hidden beneath his cloak. He handed it and a leather roll of bolts to the mercenary. “I expect these back when we’re done.”

  Orin took the weapon, looking at Rezkin cautiously. “I don’t remember seein’ these on you.”

  Rezkin shook his head. “That’s the point.”

  Intentionally scuffing his feet in the dirt, Rezkin strode across the road with an indolent swagger, his cloak slapping against his legs. “A’right, I’m here. What do you want?”

  The dergmyer ignored him completely as he supervised the delivery of the horses to the vacant animal pens.

  “Take him into custody,” said the myer.

  Rezkin pushed his cloak back to reveal the sword hilts at his hips. “I’ll warn ya, I don’t intend to go peaceably.”

  The myer huffed. “If you cause trouble, we will not hesitate to kill these men.”

  With a lazy sweep of his gaze over the haggard faces of the kneeling men, Rezkin shrugged. “Don’t matter to me. Ain’t my men.”

  “You are not with them?” said the myer. When Rezkin gave no answer, he pointed to Orin and said, “Well, I know them to be his men, and he might not appreciate your causing their deaths.”

  Rezkin said, “Way I see it, you kill them, it’s you is causing their deaths. Don’t matter no how. He’s already decided his men are as good as dead. He don’t plan to go peaceably neither.”

  Orin raised the crossbow with his good hand to aim at the myer from where he stood a few paces to Rezkin’s right.

  The myer gave Rezkin a look that thoroughly expressed his dismay. He waved to the several dozen armed men behind him and said, “Do you not see that the two of you are outnumbered nearly forty to one? There is no need for you to go down fighting. If you surrender, we will take you to Ulep for a trial.”

  “Why would you do that? You ain’t even investigated yet, and you’ve already decided we’re guilty.”

  “It’s obvious what happened here,” the myer huffed.

  “It is,” Rezkin agreed, “if you care to look. It was drauglics.”

  The dergmyer walked up behind the myer who respectfully ceded the position. “Why have you not captured this man?”

  “He says he intends to fight,” said the myer.

  The officers’ attention was diverted when Minder Finwy approached from Rezkin’s other side. Finwy said, “Sir—”

  “Dergmyer.”

  Finwy tilted his head. “Dergmyer, I am Minder Finwy, assistant to Minder Barkal of the Temple of the Maker in Serret. I have been traveling with these men, and I assure you, they had nothing to do with the deaths on this plantation. None were living when we arrived.”

  The dergmyer glanced from the minder to Rezkin to Orin and back to Rezkin. The dergmyer raised a hand and flicked a finger. “Shoot them.”

  The lead archer raised his bow, and seven others followed. Before the first arrow was released, Orin had already shot off a bolt and Rezkin had drawn his swords. The silver blades flashed in the waning light as each arrow was knocked aside or cleaved in two. The minder and Orin, for all his bluster, both dove behind Rezkin for cover, but the mercenary was not fast enough to avoid an arrow through the leg.

  As soon as the commotion started, Kai and Farson began picking off troops from the rear. The shouts initially went unnoticed, since Rezkin was keeping the closest troops and most of the officers busy. The unbound mercenaries responded quickly to fight for their lives. They attacked the nearest soldiers, collecting weapons as soon as they became available. One of the mercenaries was rendered unconscious before he even gained his feet but was saved from a killing strike by his comrade.

  From the field on the right, Yserria danced into the fray, each of her graceful movements ending in a bloody swath. Jimson was at her side, and Malcius and Brandt were farther down the line. Most of the horses were gathered in the yard or were already in pens, but those still in the road were spooked. Some of them trampled the soldiers in their escape to the fields, likely to be eaten by drauglics if they did not return quickly.

  While the soldiers, mercenaries, and Rekzin’s friends were fighting, the purifiers huddled around their pole of shackles. As Rezkin waded closer, he began to feel the tingle of mage power, and he realized that it was emanating from all three of them. Heavily engaged with a practiced opponent, Malcius was suddenly smashed against an invisible barrier, as if a wall stood between him and the purifiers. The female purifier reached into her robe and withdrew a long dagger. With a hateful glare, she lunged for him. Although Malcius was unaware of the attempted assault, he rolled out of the way just in time to avoid both the dagger and the sword strike aimed at his head. His opponent’s blade collided with the ward, deflected unexpectedly, and he stumbled. Malc
ius took advantage of the error and plunged his sword into the man’s exposed back.

  Rezkin realized the barrier only blocked objects from passing in one direction when the woman suddenly charged through to attack Malcius from behind. Rezkin grabbed for a dagger, but before he could release it, an arrow sailed into the woman’s heart. Malcius and Rezkin both glanced to see that Yserria had liberated a bow and arrows from one of the dead archers, and she was apparently an excellent shot. Yserria lowered the bow just as Kai crashed into a man who was approaching her from behind. Farson swept across the road, making quick work of the remaining soldiers in the surrounding cluster. The surprise attack on the troops had been swift and efficient. Before long, soldiers began throwing their weapons aside and laying prostrate on the ground as a sign of surrender. Those that remained lost morale when they realized their officers had been the first to fall. The mercenary company lost another member and a second was severely wounded, but they had killed all but ten soldiers and two purifiers who were taken prisoner. They had also gained a little over sixty Gendishen red cavalry horses.

  Orin groaned as he hobbled over to Rezkin. “What’ve we done?”

  “Saved our lives,” Rezkin said.

  “We’ll be lucky to be hung for this,” the mercenary mumbled.

  “They were going to kill us anyway.”

  Orin nodded. “No way to win.”

  “We did win. The problem is them,” Rezkin said, pointing to the prisoners. Jimson and Kai were binding the soldiers’ hands while the others searched bodies and gathered horses.

  Orin limped up to the prisoners, a broken arrow protruding from his calf. He leaned toward them and yelled, “I told yer commander we had nothin’ to do with it! They was gone or dead when we got here. But he had to blame me and my men! Now these’re all dead”—he waved toward the bodies scattered over the ground—“and we’re stuck with you lot! What do you expect us to do now?”

  The prisoners glanced at each other, and one of the younger soldiers said, “You could let us go?”

  Orin frowned at him. “Let you go? So you can get another patrol—or a battalion—and come after us?” He limped and huffed and growled and then kicked a rock in frustration. It thudded off the temple of a fresh corpse, which sent him into another juvenile tirade.

  Yserria watched the rugged mercenary with fascination and muttered to Rezkin in Leréshi, “Men are too emotional.”

  Orin stopped in his tracks and said, “What did she say?” He took a few steps forward and raised a finger along with his voice. “What did she say?”

  “You should not let down your guard.”

  “Ah,” Orin said as he released a breath. “Well, the Leréshi’s right. Enemies are all around.” He narrowed his eyes at the prisoners and motioned for Rezkin to step aside. “We’ve got drauglics—drauglics! And now our own army. But you, you could’ve left. You don’t know us. Why’d you stay and get yerself into this mess?”

  Rezkin shrugged. “We needed the horses.”

  “Bah, Behrglyn’s a day away. You coulda gotten horses there without makin’ an enemy of the king. Why’d you help us?”

  Rezkin glanced at Kai who was selecting the best horses. “Boss says we fight, we fight.” Orin gave him a dubious look. Rezkin grinned. “We coulda killed you and taken yer horses when we first met.” With a nod toward the house, he said, “My friend in there don’t like senseless killin’.”

  “The pretty one? I noticed he weren’t out here fightin’. So he’s the conscience and yer the sword?”

  Rezkin tilted his head. It was an idea he would have to consider later. He shrugged and said, “Somethin’ like that. Besides, it woulda been a waste of resources. Yer men came in handy durin’ the battle with the drauglics. No tellin’ how many more we’ll meet.”

  “Maybe, but now we’ve got them to worry about. Once they blab, the king’ll have an army after us.”

  “Dead men can’t talk,” Rezkin said. Finwy looked up, obviously paying attention despite his preoccupied appearance, and Rezkin’s friends shared an uncomfortable glance.

  The young soldier scrambled forward on his knees and exclaimed, “But we surrendered.”

  Rezkin looked at the man with an icy gaze. “The mercs surrendered earlier, and your dergmyer woulda had them killed anyway. You’d’ve done the killin’ when he’d ordered it.”

  Tears welled in the young man’s eyes as he shook his head. “No! I mean, I have to follow orders, but I wouldn’t want to.”

  “Well, I don’t want to have to kill you,” Rezkin replied, “but yer a threat.”

  The older purifier interrupted. “We are servants of the Maker. We do his bidding. You cannot kill us.”

  Orin limped over to the man. He pointed back at Minder Finwy and said, “That’s a servant of the Maker, and yer troops tried to put an arrow through him. Damned purifiers—think they can go around takin’ and killin’ anyone they please who ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

  The purifiers both looked at the mercenary with fury in their dark gazes. The eldest said, “The afflicted have made pacts with demons. What could be worse?”

  “Says you!” Orin said. “I don’t trust the scourge no more than you, but the rest of the world is sayin’ they’re blessed of the Maker.” He waved at the minder who was wandering about mouthing silent words over the dead. Finwy looked up and nodded then went back to his ministrations. “It always felt kinda wrong, but truth is, I didn’t care much before. I ain’t sayin’ I want anythin’ to do with the scourge. I don’t like no one havin’ that kind of power so as I can’t fight against it; but now I know what it’s like being accused of something I didn’t do and havin’ people gonna kill you fer it. That’s wrong!”

  The sun had finally descended below the horizon, and Kai and Farson delivered a lamp and a few hastily made torches. Farson came to stand at Rezkin’s side.

  “What do you intend to do now?” he asked in Pruari, since it was unlikely anyone present would speak the language. “We cannot keep prisoners. Will you kill them?”

  “It is what you taught, yet I feel it is not what you want,” Rezkin replied.

  Farson was silent for too long, but Rezkin waited. Finally, the striker said, “It would be a mistake to let them go.”

  “If I kill them, I will lose the respect, and possibly the loyalty, of my people.”

  “You are at war. They will have to learn that there are difficult choices to be made.”

  “We are not at war with Gendishen,” Rezkin said.

  “We could take the horses we need and run off the rest. It will take them some time to report and without the use of a mage relay, they may be unable to get word ahead of us.”

  Rezkin shook his head. “That may not be true. The purifiers are mages.”

  “You are certain?” Farson said with genuine surprise, “Mages are killing their own?”

  “I am surprised the strikers were not aware of it,” Rezkin said.

  “We have never been able to infiltrate the purifiers, and I am not sure Privoth even knows how they do what they do. It makes sense, though. Only one with the talent can sense them, and they would sense someone with the talent who is not of their order.”

  Rezkin’s intense gaze was dark in the flickering shadows of the torch light. “Only those with talent?”

  Farson looked away, but, for once, he did not avoid the question. “I have no answer for that. I know not how you do it. Your masters said you are not a mage, and all the talented strikers confirmed it. Somehow Peider and Jaiardun trained you to fend off mage attacks and walk through wards, and I never knew what to believe. I truly thought you had the answer, but I am no longer certain.”

  Rezkin could appreciate the sentiment. The only thing he could be certain about with Farson was that he could never trust the man, and his former trainer would be disappointed in him if he did. He put those thoughts aside and said, “We need to consult with Wesson, but we will have to separate the purifiers from the others. I still do no
t want his abilities exposed to Orin and his men. Place the purifiers in their own shackles. They are enchanted with runes to prevent mages from using their powers.”

  “So what do we do with the others?”

  Everyone waited in silence during their exchange. Rezkin could feel his friends’ eyes on him. He needed more time to come up with a plan that could protect his friends and preserve their honor. “Move them to the courtyard for now.”

  The purifiers were placed under guard in the outbuilding that had once housed the ranch hands. It was safest to keep everyone together in case the drauglics returned. The scent of the carnage in the yard would surely attract their attention if they were near. For this task, though, they had to maintain secrecy.

  Wesson stepped through the doorway into the small front room of the lodging. A table was pushed up against the far wall, and each of the purifiers sat on the floor tied to a table leg. Dressed as he was, Wesson was not the most convincing mercenary, but no one would have guessed he was a powerful mage. The purifiers barely gave him a glance. Wesson noticed a small furry animal dart into the building behind him. It strutted into the corner and then sprawled lazily on the ground, blinking large yellow eyes and flicking its tail.

  Wesson glanced at Rezkin. “Is that your—”

  “Get on with it,” Rezkin said.

  Wesson glanced at the cat one more time and then slowly approached the purifiers. They did not react until he was within six feet of them. At that point, both of their heads came up, each bearing an expression of contempt.

  “Afflicted,” growled the eldest.

  Wesson spoke in Gendishen so the purifiers would not know they were Ashaiian—just in case Rezkin decided to let them live. For once, Wesson thought he would not mind if Rezkin chose death. “They are still bound by the shackles?”

  “Shackles and mage rope,” Rezkin replied.

  “Interesting. What kind of mages are you?” Wesson asked.

  “We are not mages,” the eldest said. “We purge the scourge from this realm, back to H’khajnak where it belongs.”

  “How do you know I am a mage?” Wesson asked.