by H. M. Clarke
These people are not seasoned fighters. The thought struck Ryn hard as the two wounded men retreated back through the crowd to be replaced by others. She changed her fighting style to incapacitate rather than kill. She adjusted the dagger so that the flat of the blade would be the main striking face and did the same with her sword. She then waded into the melee to keep anyone from striking out at Dagan.
Blue flickered on her periphery vision and a blast of cold air blew past her, knocking down several assailants had had charged between her and Ashe. Then flashes of purple and pink joined the blue as the crowd was pushed back by their blasts of force.
“Shouldn’t you be paying attention to the Dharmen Dymarki?” She shouted back at him as she backhanded a woman in the jaw with her sword hilt. She felt a tickle of amusement through the Link.
Dagan shrugged, though Ryn noted that the glyphs on his staff burned brighter than before. “I can always spare some wind for you.”
Ryn tried not to laugh as she caught the arm of another man, jerked him forward and then hook her foot to kick him in the back of the knee. He crumpled down, and she clocked him on the top of his head with the hilt of her dagger. She felt a twinge in her newly healed side, she still did not have her full strength back. Magic doesn’t cure everything.
“We have to get to Cordle before he works out how to get past those barriers,” Ashe yelled at her.
“Or escapes,” Banar added.
A blast of purple and pink wind tunneled on either side of Ashe and pushed back what was left of the crowd. Ryn glanced back at the three magi. “Someone needs to stay to protect their backs,” she called back at them.
“My back does not need protecting.”
Dagan strode past her, his staff glowing blue from the brightness of the glyphs.
“Mine might.” Donal piped up, but Ryn ignored him.
“Dagan!” Ryn was caught in shock, but quickly rushed to catch up to him. She was vaguely aware of the others coming up with them and forming a line that advanced on the small numbers remaining of the crowd which had now gathered around the base of the Guild Hall stairs.
“You’re the one who nearly died a few days ago, you are the one that needs protecting.”
Ryn did not grace that with an answer. She felt no amusement over the Link. Dagan meant it.
He began to swing his staff, one handed in a figure eight, his free hand held out for balance. If there weren’t people standing in front of them that wanted to kill them, Ryn would have stopped to watch the display. The Magister never used any fancy moves when they practiced together. Ryn looked back at the Dymarki secured to the portico columns and saw that the blue shields were still up, protecting them, burning even brighter than before. Cordle was now using his hands to pulse those shields with bursts of green.
“Clear that crowd,” Dagan shouted at them.
“You all heard the man!” she called out. “Let’s move them on.” She raised her sword and let forth a battle cry and charged headlong into the crowd.
“Ryn!”
Ashe’s voice trailed after her and she noted more flashes of pink, orange and purple fly over her head into the crowd. She then heard his voice as well as Banar’s merge with her own cry. And then she was in the crowd, either convincing people to leave with her fists or with the flat of her blade. The grunts, screams and cursing told her that Banar and Ashe were doing the same. Abruptly there were no opponents on her right side as Bron’s large form barreled past her, scattering the crowd as he lashed out with a flash of steel in both hands. Those people took one look at him and disappeared into the closest dark alleyways leading away from the forum.
“Magister!”
Lily’s shrill voice cut through the grunts and thumps of the fighting, followed by a roar of sound unlike anything she had heard before.
Ryn spun round and saw that Dagan was gone.
She looked wildly around, oblivious to the fact that the people they had been fighting were now running away from them as fast as their legs could carry them.
A whoosh of heat slammed into her back and as Lily, Donal and Vannik rushed forward, Ryn turned and looked back to the portico. Her eyes widened in surprise.
Dagan was now up on the top step of the portico, his runestaff moving so quick that the blue glow of its glyphs merged into a solid sheet of light as it flung bolts of power at Cordle.
How did he get up there?
Lucas Cordle was fighting back. Balls of green fire flew from his hands in rapid fire as he ducked and wove to avoid Dagan’s onslaught. Blue light still fluttered around the Dymarki as the shields were struck by magical shrapnel from the battle.
Dagan was fighting Cordle and is still able to keep up the barriers? Even Ryn was aware that it took a lot of skill and power to be able to keep up more than one spell at a time.
“Give it up Cordle, it’s over. You can’t win this,” Dagan yelled as he sidestepped a stream of green fireballs that streaked past him and smacked into the stone wall of the building next door, causing a rain of stone shrapnel to shower over the Blackwatch constables.
“I’ve already won, you fool. Did you see the crowd? The people now know where the danger lies.” As Cordle spoke, he stepped back towards the two prisoners.
“A rent a crowd doesn’t count!” Donal’s voice rose up.
Cordle turned to glare at him, and Dagan took that moment to strike. He flicked his staff and a thick bolt of blue lightening exploded out from its end to streak across the space between them and hit Cordle square in the chest. The man was caught unawares and was tossed back against the blue shields with the force of the bolt. He slid down the barrier and slumped to his knees, a black, smoking wound marring the pristine white material of his chest.
The blue barriers blinked away. Dagan must think that there was no longer any threat.
Ryn and the others still stood ready, keeping a wary eye on the laneways and alleys that lead off of the forum. Scattered on the cobbles about them were the bodies of several men, including the two that Ryn initially came up against before she realized that these people were no fighters.
Dagan moved and knelt down before Cordle and reached a hand out to the man’s neck to check his vitals. Bron and Vannik quickly made their way up the stairs and cut the bonds of the Dymarki with their daggers. The cats slumped forward and then Wotha sprung up past Hella to check the fallen Serta. He ripped off the restraining gloves that were still on his hands and then pulled the gloves from Serta’s lifeless paws.
‘He is gone.’
Ryn watched as the Dymarki called Hella laid a large hand on the other’s shoulder. Wotha looked up at him and then looked back over his shoulder as Dagan approached them, holding something in one hand.
“I am sorry for your loss,” the Magister said as he stopped a pace away from Wotha.
‘He died bound and tied. He did not die a warrior’s death.’
“But he died an honorable one. He met his death with courage and showed no fear. That proves he had the heart of a true warrior. His pyre should be tall and bright.”
Wotha nodded and rose slowly to his feet. ‘Serta’s sprit thanks you for your words and will rest easier knowing that his courage was recognized by others. We thank you for coming to our aid and freeing us. For that we owe you an honor debt.’
Dagan held out his hand to Wotha and opened it. Ryn saw a flash of white as the objects rolled in his palm. “Serta will need these so that he does not go toothless into the great unknown.”
Wotha stared at the hand and then slowly picked up the teeth and carefully slipped them into one of his bandolier pouches.
‘Again, we thank you.’ He turned and jerked his chin at Hella, who bent down and, in one, effortless move, picked up Serta’s body and positioned him over a shoulder. ‘We will go before any more unfriendly Bareskins arrive. We will report back to Dhar Etha. Come to our camp when you can. Serta would want you to attend his Pyre at sunrise tomorrow.’
“I would be honored,” Dagan
replied giving Wotha a bow while placing his hand over his heart.
Both Dymarki gave the mage a nod in return before leaping off of the portico steps and breaking into a long lope as they disappeared into the shadows surrounding the forum.
“Is it wise to let them go like that?” Ryn asked.
“Are you going to try to stop them?” he retorted
Ryn frowned but said nothing as they all came to stand with Dagan, Vannik and Bron on the portico steps. The cut ropes and a large puddle of blood made a morbid circle around the slumped form of the dead magister.
“We found this on one of the dead.” Banar handed Dagan a scrap of garish material baring the same colors as the one found at the abandoned Inn where she was injured. “He was wearing it under the homespun he was wearing.”
Dagan stared at the cloth for what seemed like an age before looked back at them all, his eyes glinting.
“It’s time to bring this mess to the King Regent’s attention.”
Emerick Auten stood on the top step of the Tanner’s Guild, his gaze sweeping the bodies still lying where they fell on the cobblestones and finishing on the large bloodstain and slumped body of Magister Lucas Cordle. Dagan stood next to him. The rest of the team stood with the King Regent’s personal guard which had fanned themselves out in a semi circle on the edge of the carnage.
“You killed them? All of them?” Emerick asked. “Dead men can’t give us answers.”
“A large part of the crowd broke and ran when they realized we could fight. And had magic.” Dagan drew a deep breath, stilling himself for what he had to say next. “A Praetor serving the Lord Tribunal allowed this to happen. She hinted to us about this lot,” Dagan gestured towards the bodies as he spoke.
“Are you quite sure? She held a blade with them? Told them to fight you?” Emerick’s voice sounded hopeful and Dagan regretted what he had to say.
“No…I cannot say that.”
“No. Of course not. Blast Bellus. You have no idea the storm these allegations will cause. It will destroy what support I do have in this city.” The King Regent looked again at the bodies, a troubled expression on his face.
“I have had trouble with this Praetor before. She is…slippery,” Dagan offered him.
“I understand. The people who choose to vex us are always slippery,” he replied, his eyes still on the bodies. “Madness, this is just madness.”
“Yes, Excellency. And she may have had family help. Or at least access to her family resources.”
“What do you mean?”
Dagan handed him the piece of cloth. “We found this on one of the dead here in the forum. We also found the Houndcaester’s colors with a black market shipment at a cache just outside of Kaldor.”
“You think your Praetor is bringing in weapons for this?”
“If not weapons, then untraceable gold in which to pay people. Good money was given to those traitors in your Palace guard to take that Emissary. And I’m sure we will find plenty of coin on the people who had been here tonight.”
Emerick shook himself and turned worried eyes back to Dagan. “Tribunal involvement, even if they are fringe elements–aghh, it could not be worse.”
“The Lord Tribunal had no knowledge of this affair. I trust he will deal with it swiftly once I give him my report of what happened here.”
Emerick just stared at the bodies and then finally shook his head again. “I will make my enquires. Gently. And you should be careful in your associations. For now, we have other problems. Magister Drake, you know the Dymarki.., what should I do?”
“Hiding this will only make things worse,” Dagan replied.
“It would, wouldn’t it? I’m losing my sense in how to balance this nightmare. I appreciate your help in this matter. As bad as this is, it could have been much worse without you. Myrcea owes you. The Dymarki owes you. I owe you.”
“Hello, Praetor Maluski.”
Dagan loomed in the doorway to the antechamber they had visited earlier that day. The young assistant was still at their desk, listening attentively to Maluski as Dagan entered.
The woman glanced up at the greeting, a glare on her face. She then snapped a curt dismissal at the assistant and the man got up from his chair and scuttled out of the door behind the desk. As soon as the door clicked shut, Praetor Maluski turned to Dagan, a smile forced to her face.
“Magister Dagan, it is good to see you. The shame that Lucas Cordle bought the Tribunal is most unfortunate.”
“The shame he brought?” Donal muttered, and Ryn nudged him hard in the ribs.
“Praise Bellus that your were His Champion in that dark place.”
Dagan tried not to roll his eyes at her flowery words. The language did not suit her tone. “Look, we are both adults here. Can we drop the pretense?”
“I think you’ll find that I have said nothing threatening or untruthful to you.”
“You and your careful language.”
“I gave you what you wanted at considerable cost. Magister Lucas Cordle will be more manageable as a martyr, but his lost will be felt. You have avenged the Dymarki with human blood. Surely that is good enough for you?”
“You’re no more satisfied than I am.”
“Cordle was a fool, but the facts remain: an offense to the State remains unchallenged. I will give you no further cause to try to shame me today, but we will have this argument again.” She turned and took a step towards the door and halted as if just remembering something. She turned her elegant head and gave Dagan a coy look over her shoulder. “The King Regent’s incompetence all but guarantees it.” And with that, Maluski disappeared through the door.
“Sometimes you just know that trouble is coming,” Donal said, giving Ryn a look as if daring her to elbow him again.
“That’s a guarantee where that woman is concerned.” Dagan’s head jerked up when the click of the handles of the double door behind them echoed loudly in the room.
The doors slowly opened and a tall man dressed in black and clearly in his sixties entered the room. “Is there something troubling you, Magister?”
Dagan ducked his head and laid his hand over his heart. “My Lord Tribune.”
“Since when have you been so respectful? If this is what being part of the Blackwatch does to you, then I should change my mind about allowing you entry,” the man chuckled.
Dagan smiled. “You’re not implying that they are a civilizing influence on me are you?”
“Perish the thought, Dagan. You’ll probable turn the Knights Commander hair just as gray as mine.”
“They’ve both already gone gray,” Dagan heard Donal mutter followed by an ‘oooff’ as Kathryn elbowed him. He turned his attention back to the Lord Tribune Peistal.
“Did you know that someone used the authority of your name to instigate a crime against the Dymarki?”
“Walking the right path is never as straight and narrow as we wish. I truly hoped that this would not go so far…But do not trouble yourself. I will step in when it’s time.”
“You know about Praetor Maluski?”
The Lord Tribune’s gaze hardened. “Of course I do. I know everything that happens within my house.”
“But you retain her as Praetor?”
“You know the saying. ‘Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer’.”
Dagan’s eyebrow rose at this comment, but who was he to disagree with the head of the Tribunal?
“Are you intending to stay neutral about the Dymarki forever? Praetor Maluski’s meddling has caused one Dymarki to be murdered and several citizens to be killed.”
“No. But there are forces and people at work in this business that we are not even aware of. If one is still enough, they might feel safe enough to come out of the shadows and reveal themselves to the light of day.”
“Yes, Lord Tribune.”
CHAPTER Twenty One
The sun was just peaking over the horizon and the chilly wind followed the course of the Akella river on its way t
o its exit in the Grotto sea. The wide river bank was covered in fine white sand and stood out in contrast to the predawn shadows of the trees. Half way along the beach were the trunks of cut trees that had been tiered in layers until the stack stood six feet high. Interwoven between the wood could be seen bunches of colorful flowers and local sweet-smelling herbs that grew wild in the area. Atop the tiered stack was the body of a Dymarki, laid out as if sleeping.
Dagan stood to one side of the breach, with Donal, Banar and Vannik. Banar was there in his guise as the Magister’s ‘Pair’. Donal and Vannik came to pay respects as people who had witnessed Serta’s courage at his passing. Dagan had left the others at the Osega Mansion where they had rested the night before as their house was located between the Tanner’s Quarter and the Blackwatch Barracks. Ryn as usual had wanted to come and tried to push the point, but he denied her. She needed the rest.
They had arrived at the Dymarki Camp a half hour before dawn where they joined Wotha and the rest of the members of Clan Mufista, Serta’s clan, on a procession from the Camp along the river to the sandy river bank where the rest of the clan had been busy preparing the pyre and the body.