“Is it cool enough for me?” she asked sweetly.
Trevor nodded. Lady Elyn put one leg into the bath, but didn’t take her eyes off Sarah.
“Is something wrong with your voice, Gwen?” asked one of the handmaidens.
Trevor nodded, again.
“But it was fine this morning over breakfast? Are you unwell?” asked the other one.
Lady Elyn narrowed her eyes and tried to focus at the folds of her handmaiden’s cowl. She withdrew her leg from the bath. Now or never!
“Gwen?”
Trevor pulled a fist-sized stone from his robe and thumped the naked princess on the temple. Caught off guard, she didn’t even cry out as she slumped to the floor out cold.
Trevor figured that the two handmaidens would first fret over the princess. He was right. Both of them raced forward when they saw the lump at her temple. It was instinct. One started to scream, but Trevor quickly came up behind her and put his hand over her mouth while looking at the other one. He had a handkerchief that he forced into the handmaiden’s mouth.
Speaking to the handmaiden still kneeling by the unconscious princess, he said “I mean you no harm, but I will kill your friend in my arms here if you scream. I could have killed your princess, but did not. Keep quiet, and you will live.”
“You mean to defile the Lady Elyn. I will scream for the guards before I allow that,” said the one handmaiden who was still free, who had pulled back her cowl now to fully show her face. Dark complexioned like all Elves, with a somewhat large, broad nose that seemed to be the hallmark of most of her kind, excluding the Princess.
“I have no interest in that.” He glanced quickly at the perfect body of the beautiful Elven princess lying naked on her back on the cold stone. ‘No interest’ isn’t quite the right phrase, but focus! The sleep draught he had soaked into the handkerchief finally took hold of the handmaiden in his arms, and he gently laid her on the floor, his eyes never leaving the third. He flicked his wrist and a concealed knife was in his hand while he tucked his handkerchief away.
“If you think to scream for the guards, you will be dead before they enter. Your friend is only asleep, and Lady Elyn will awake with a headache, no worse.” He brandished his knife and advanced quickly on her.
“What do you mean to do?”
Distracting her with slow but menacing movements of the knife in one hand, he clubbed her with the same stone on the temple using his other hand. Again, his aim was perfect and she crumpled with hardly a sound. Three women, all unconscious, not a sound made, and no blood splattered.
“I mean to take this.” Trevor picked up the amulet, put it in his pocket, grabbed the bucket, and walked into the other room. He drew his cowl close to his face once again, checking the robe. Unlocking the door silently, he let himself out, head bowed, and walked past two Elven guards standing outside the door, pointing at an ornate water vase.
“More hot water, eh? Princess sure likes her steam baths.” The guards chuckled to one another as Trevor shut the door behind him, heading toward the fire pits where the Elves heated water, walking with the most girlish gait he could muster.
Magi
Magi and Kyle crept out of their room early the next morning, well before dawn, and headed back down into the empty Common room. They turned up the street and headed back toward The Lazy Pour. A covered cart with a Coat of Arms painted on the side was next to the entrance. Kyle risked peeking inside, and as he feared, saw the body of their warrior friend, Sindar, lying there dead, beginning to stink. His giant sword was off to one side. There did not appear to be any gaping wounds on his body anywhere.
“Should I grab his sword?” Kyle whispered.
“What for? It would take both of us to carry it. We have our own weapons.”
“What about his family? Wouldn’t they want it?”
“Kyle, forget it. We don’t know if Sindar has family. Heck, Sindar may not know whether he had family. Does he have our money on him?” Magi whispered more loudly than he intended.
Kyle poked his head out to grab some quick breaths of decent air and plunged himself back into the covered cart, patting the cold body down. “No gold,” he murmured as he leapt back onto the ground.
They knew the plan. Magi took a pinch of sand and stepped in front of the entrance, not even waiting to see if anyone was up yet in the common room. He cast the strongest sleep spell he could. As the magic welled up inside him, he focused his senses on the alehouse. The smell of intimacy mixed with spilled ale was strong. There were stables near the back, and several horses inside swatted flies with their tails. Someone upstairs was awake, whispering. Back in the kitchen, the smell of freshly slaughtered meat was coming through now. Then silence as the spell descended on the inn. There were a couple awkward sounding thumps, as if something large had fallen over.
“Come on, hurry!” Magi didn’t bother to whisper. They quickly climbed the steps on the left side of the bar. In the second floor hallway, two of Lord Corovant’s guards lay asleep in on the floor outside the door to their old room. They were two of the same guards Manny the fish peddler had brought to the inn several nights earlier.
“Your turn, Kyle. My spell had a chance to reach anyone in the inn who wasn’t behind a door. If there are people inside, they may be asleep, but it won’t be my doing, and they’ll wake up when we enter. Are you ready?” Magi asked. You can do this, I know you can.
“Yes. Ready.” Kyle looked his best friend square in the eyes. “Open it.”
Magi knew the door squeaked, so he didn’t bother to open it slowly. He grabbed the ring handle and yanked it open…but it was bolted from the inside. All he got was a bunch of wood creaking and heard some stirring on the other side of the door. Duh. Of course it would be bolted.
“Locked!” Kyle whispered.
Magi was already thinking of his next spell. “Back up. I’m going to force hammer it. Be ready to do your part while I recover.”
He again lost himself in the magic and heard two people stirring on the other side of the door. He focused all his energy on the door and began to mentally swing his air hammer. The door exploded inward, splintering into pieces. Kyle quickly stepped into the gap and put the room to sleep.
“Geez, Magi. What was that? You nearly blew the room apart!” Kyle looked at his friend incredulously.
Magi was shocked. That door was thick. “Good thing it wasn’t stone,” he said feebly. Kyle was already searching the room. There, in the corner of the room stood a table with a familiar belt with three bulging pouches attached. One for gold, one for silver, one for copper. Kyle grabbed the belt Sindar had carried all the way from Brigg and looked quickly around the room. Manny, the fish merchant who had tried to frame them for stealing earlier in the week, was lying next to a naked woman of the night. Both were snoring soundly. He saw two silver pieces lying on a separate table next to the bed. Magi walked over and grabbed them, tossing them to Kyle, who chuckled. Magi just turned away in disgust. “Let’s get out of here.”
They quickly walked back down the stairs, tying their money pouches tightly so as to avoid any jingling. They had two choices, and it seemed pretty obvious which they should take.
“Magi,” Kyle said. “I know you’re going to object, but we ought to take a look at the horses out back. Before we go and buy any, it would be easier if we could just take a couple and be off before the city awakes. Fewer questions asked.”
Magi sighed. His friend was right. “Very well. Let’s look at them and make sure they’re fit.” Sure enough, the stables had seven or eight strong-looking horses tied up. They picked a nondescript grey and a chestnut brown. Neither was an expert on horses, but they both were occasional riders. When their teacher Marik had sent them off on this quest, he considered sending them on mounts, but thought it might frustrate the seasoned veterans to move so slowly on horseback.
Now, even a modest trot would be faster than walking. Though novices, Kyle and he managed to saddle both of them in the predawn air
. They began trotting off, a bit awkwardly, heading down back streets to the city entrance and the mammoth statues that welcomed outsiders to Gaust.
But not before Magi counted out two dozen gold pieces and left an equal pile in each stable.
Xaro
“It itches a bit, doesn’t it?” said Xaro. Instead of scratching the puffy oval with three lines, he applied a bit of jelly that the pit fighters often used to treat burns and cuts. He knew it to be an extract of the sanitor tree, but that was because he had studied at the fabled tower of Dariez, where ancient clerics—True Clerics—once honed their craft. Most of the warriors in the pits would struggle to spell sanitor, let alone recognize it or harvest its sap. The True Warrior he addressed, however, was not one of those.
“Yes—a bit. I’ll take a bit of that, if you please.” Strongiron smiled politely at Xaro, before he rubbed a bit of the extract on his upper arm. “I believe this comes from a tree. Quite useful in a pinch,” he said, more as an afterthought than to Xaro in particular.
“It does indeed. Sanitor trees.” Xaro shifted. “Strongiron, I asked Lord Kensington to have a private word with you before you departed. I have a—proposition.”
Strongiron looked up, his face expressionless. He fixed his royal blue eyes on Xaro. “What’s on your mind?”
Xaro smiled briefly before standing up. He didn’t answer immediately, but instead walked to the window in Lord Kensington’s sitting room, where he and Strongiron were meeting. He feared the young warrior would leave soon to head back to Rookwood, the great capital of Elvidor and the stronghold of the East. Sure enough, he was already packed, but had agreed to meet Xaro before departing.
Looking out the window, Xaro said, “You will find that I am a direct man. I am interested in having you join me.” He turned around and recaptured Strongiron’s dazzling blue eyes. “None save myself are your equal here.”
Strongiron’s face was still inscrutable. “Join you for what? Didn’t you just earn your mark several days ago? Surely you know that I am a captain in King Alomar’s army? What are you suggesting?” He narrowed his eyes, just slightly.
Xaro knew this would be a hard sell, given that he could not reveal everything to this man. Every man has a weakness—or a price. What is yours? He remained standing. “Good questions all. Let me say this—I am not merely a True Warrior, Strongiron. I will confide in you this.” He let the spell that camouflaged his pure-white eyes fade, choking off the power that constantly fed this illusion. His irises and pupils got smaller and smaller, until they were completely covered by the whites of his eyes. The mark of a True Mage.
“A mage. That explains some things,” Strongiron said. “But you still have not answered my questions.”
This time Xaro narrowed his eyes, and the effect with True Mages was always pronounced. “If you mean to insinuate that I cheated, you should know I’ve not used a wink of magic to help my cause in the pits.” He stepped back and relaxed, restoring his eyes to their illusionary, everyday-sort-of-brown color. “That doesn’t matter. I could care less whether you believe that at this moment. What I care about is whether you will join me. For I intend to bring peace to a Dark World consumed with warring factions, poverty, and centuries of injustice. Surely you recognize the darkness that hangs over Tenebrae? Even you, as skilled as you are, must admit that a True Warrior-Mage who has also studied at the ancient Clerist Tower in Dariez can help lead the world from this dark precipice it’s on? But I cannot do it alone. Come with me, and I will put you in charge of my entire army.”
“What army?” Strongiron’s shoulders began to tense.
“The one that I am about to build for my Master.”
“And who is your Master?” Strongiron leaned forward and put his hand on his sword-hilt, reflexively.
The moment of truth: Join, fight, or leave. What will it be, Strongiron? “I serve an ancient God—a True God. My Master is Kuth-Cergor, and he has returned to our world.”
Strongiron leaned back in his chair, taking a deep breath. “I see. Thank you, Xaro, for your offer, but I must decline. I am, and always will be, a King’s Man.”
I could kill you with one spell right now, fool! Thinking better of it, he simply smiled sadly. There may be time yet for you to see the folly of this decision. Better to let him see the power of Kuth-Cergor to report back to his precious King. “Very well. Perhaps the world is big enough for us both. But it is not big enough for my Master to share with anyone else. And my Master’s designs are not regional, Strongiron. I would have you leave here peaceably now, for our next meeting may be less amicable. You may reconsider at a later date, and find my need of a general greatly reduced. Are you sure you will not come with me now?”
“I’m a King’s Man, Xaro. And whatever fairy tales you’ve filled your head with, rest assured that if those white eyes of yours gaze northward on Elvidor, we will indeed meet again. I leave you now to your designs.” Strongiron got up to leave, but he walked backward toward the door, never taking his eyes off Xaro nor his hand from the hilt of his sword.
He is wise to fear me. “Give my regards to your King and Queen, my brother. They would be wise to listen to you.”
Still facing Xaro, Strongiron said, “We may share a Mark, but we are not brothers,” and he departed the room backwards in silence, never turning his back on him.
Left to his own thoughts, Xaro thought about yelling something back at Strongiron, but pressed his lips together instead. Hmmm. Very well, Strongiron Tuitio—so be it. Xaro quickly moved to plan B, as time was of the essence now. He then left Lord Kensington’s sitting room as well, heading toward Tar-Tan’s barracks.
Trevor
Trevor knew it would not take long for the Elves’ suspicion to be aroused. He also knew the bodies in the bath would soon be discovered, and he had no chance of leaving with his life intact if it came down to a direct confrontation. Still dressed as a handmaiden, he ditched the bucket once he left the main hall. He passed one other Elf, Cherokum actually, who simply smiled and nodded pleasantly at him, unable to see the face within the deep folds of the plush, white robe.
As he walked out the door, he passed underneath the two towers and stared at the winding rows of trees on either side of the stone path leading back down the hillside. He considered how strange it would be for one of the princess’s handmaidens to be walking alone toward the riverbed. That was quite a ways to go for water when it was readily available inside the fortress. He would be stopped, questioned, discovered, and if he was lucky—executed on the spot with an arrow through the head. More likely: a long, drawn out imprisonment and series of torturous calamities that he wasn’t inclined to ponder at the moment.
No. It’s up the trees or nothing. Trevor was an exceptional tree climber. It did not take him long to see the clever, hidden handholds and footholds that the Elves used to scamper up to their positions. Still dressed as a handmaiden, he hoped to gain a few seconds. There would be no way he could climb up undetected.
“Well, to what do we owe this visit? Is that you, Gwen? Or Diana? Is everything all right with Lady Elyn?” A slender Elf called down to Trevor from a raised platform built among the branches of the tree that he was climbing, a mere few feet above him. He didn’t look up, but kept climbing quickly to reach the platform.
“I never knew you could climb so well. That was fast. What’s going on, Gw—” the Elf’s voice was cut short by a fast-acting poison dart Trevor blew into his neck. These were meant to kill. He stepped quickly toward the Elf and caught his fall, laying him down gently. Spinning around quickly to see what other threats there were, he saw that there were clever bridges connecting the trees that lined the stone path. He had suspected this given that Cherokum had mentioned that these trees also served as guard towers over the path. The Elf undoubtedly meant to intimidate and discourage the stranger just in case he meant ill-will toward the Elves; in fact, he had given Trevor the best means of escape. Not that it mattered; he would have guessed the path was guarded, an
d the trees were the only place from which to do so. He set about executing his plan to move from guard station to guard station, correctly figuring they were connected in the event Elves needed to quickly move from tree to tree in defense of the path leading to Thalanthalas.
He ditched his white robe and now blended in perfectly within the foliage. Creeping silently among the boughs along the intertwined branches and dark brown ropes that made up the “bridges” from one tree to the next, he spotted the next guard platform. Carefully taking aim at the unsuspecting Elf, he blew another highly toxic dart at his neck. Hit. It was then that the flaw in his plan became apparent.
The Elf fell over, and Trevor was not in a position to catch this one. So he fell…right out of the tree.
“Tonthor? TONTHOR?” Trevor heard an Elf clear on the other side of the path from one of the stations call out loudly, as the Elf had fallen twenty or thirty feet through branches and bramble, cracking his head open on the stone below.
Trevor felt the trees closing in on him. Dead Elves, injured princess, stolen amulet. He saw a torch flare up on the other side of the path. Soon another one ahead of him answered. Upward or death.
He climbed higher into the trees, above the “path” that loosely connected each tree to the next. They would search every limb before long, so the idea of waiting this one out like he did for his Test of Technique with the foolish knights was out of the question. But he had to get off this arbor road.
There was no use but to climb out onto trees that grew well off the path leading down to the riverbed, surrounded by those poisonous bushes. One slip was all it would take. Trevor’s hearing was acute—some would say unnatural. But he did not need enhanced hearing to pick up on the commotion thirty yards away in the nearby trees that mirrored the stone path down the hillside. Several Elves had now gathered on the stone path where his victim had fallen.
In Pursuit Of Wisdom (Book 1) Page 10