Tevic smiled, cocking his head to the side with a slight shrug. “If Sajiix resists and you happen to run him through with your sword, I would be willing to fund the Guild through winter.”
The former knight nodded and placed a gloved hand upon the hilt of his sword. “How could I refuse such a gracious offer?”
***
Sajiix sat upon the edge of the lumpy, wood-framed bed. His tousled black hair grazed the sloping roof of the room as he stood, attempting to not wake his still sleeping apprentice. The deerskin rug helped alleviate some of the chill from the floor, but the autumn morning was a cold one. The small hearth that was built into the corner of the room held the remnants of a fire, but now its flame was barely an orange glow. The Magi collected his traveling cloak draped over a nearby chest and pulled it over his bare shoulders. Sajiix was unsure how long he and Kaelyn had slept, but bright sunlight peeked through the imperfections of the two shuttered windows, allowing small beams of yellow, dust-filled light to touch the floor.
Sajiix winced in preparation as he pulled the shutters apart and greeted the late morning with a cantankerous snort. The village of Hemdale lay sprawled along the fertile fields of Kaalmoore’s western farmlands. He and Kaelyn had ridden half the night on horses given to him by Tienn to make it here. They were away from Kaalé, but not far enough away for his liking. Had he and Kaelyn not expended so much strength in escaping the High Temple of Diathanos, they could have traveled the shadowpath and been in Valdine within mere seconds.
Tienn, however, thought it best they all ride together; so, in the late hours of the night into the early hours of dawn, he, Kaelyn, Tienn, and Ayce raced to this small hamlet just west of the capital city.
Before learning of the shadowpath, Sajiix had traveled through Hemdale quite often – either going or coming from Kaalé. The West Road Inn, however, was not one the Magi’s regular haunts. The poor young male that had been chosen to watch the main desk for late travelers could never have expected to have two Magi, a Draaken, and a well-armed mercenary come bursting through the main door requesting a few rooms just before dawn.
Tienn paid for their rooms as Sajiix’s money pouch had been confiscated by the Palidiamos. He was quite sure its contents had already been donated to the Church of Light’s personal coffers. The room stood on the second floor of the mid-sized inn; the window he now gazed out at looked over the main road that stretched through town toward Kaalé.
Sajiix said nothing to Tienn or Ayce except that they would discuss their options in the morning. He was too exhausted for anything else. Even the usual appetites of Kaelyn were set aside due to her fatigue. After the events at the temple and the nerve-wracking ride from Kaalé, they were all too tired to do anything else.
The Magi rubbed the sleep from his still-tired eyes and stretched with a long yawn. He wanted nothing more than to take a few more hours of sleep to be fully recharged and ready for what he had to do. He looked over at Kaelyn, who had buried herself in the thick blankets of the bed. All that could be seen of her was a mass of dark blond hair, her face hidden from the sunlight that had invaded the small room. He would have to wake her soon. Sajiix was eager to be on his way. Too many adversaries had a head start on him: the Zynnashans; Lynth, the Zynnashan that had warned him at the Arcanum; Margas Shek, head of his own Amethyst Order; and Protector D’ghelle and his squad of Palidiamos.
His biggest concern was that Lynth would find the thieves first before he could take hold of the diamond. If that happened, Lynth would immediately return the Purestone to his ruler – Highlord Bragas. Since Lynth was an Amethyst Magi, he could travel the shadowpath, making him even more of a threat. Sajiix was unconcerned with the others – Margas could travel the shadowpath as well, but Margas was a scholar and had no experience with threats outside the Arcanum. D’ghelle and his squad would have to ride five days just to reach Fhaalvak. And anyone brave enough to steal the Purestone from the Zynnashans would surely be smart enough to stay hidden from their retrieval team.
Sajiix felt his pulse quicken, felt his blood rush at the thought of such a challenge. The end goal of obtaining the Purestone was heady enough, but to know that he beat all of those searching for it was an almost equal thrill.
Another memory entered his mind as he shrugged off his cloak and reached for his black shirt – the skirmish in the tower at the High Temple. To see Ayce transformed once more and fight alongside Tienn with his rapier slicing through the air brought back moments Sajiix had long forgotten. Even their fast ride through Kaalé returned memories of past incidents when he and the other member of the Defender’s Guild had to race to escape some walled compound or city. When he looked at Tienn or Ayce, he no longer felt the stab of betrayal.
He felt a sliver of loss.
Sajiix had tucked his shirt into his pants and was pulling his dark purple vest on when he heard the thundering sound of hooves coming toward the inn from the east. A squad of four clerics led by a paladin came to a halt just below his window. Sajiix pulled back quickly, calling out to Kaelyn with an urgent whisper. The urgency of his call woke her immediately and she slid out of the bed and began to dress in her robes. Sajiix remained near the window, his back to the wall as he peered over his shoulder. All five dismounted their fine horses, each looking around them for any sign of their targets.
A rapid tapping came from their door and Sajiix motioned for Kaelyn to unlatch the lock. Tienn and a shirtless Ayce strode in, their swords at the ready. Sajiix put his finger to his lips while Kaelyn shut the door.
“We saw them coming toward us,” Tienn explained.
Sajiix nodded, but highly doubted that Ayce was even awake to see anything by the looks of him. The Magi smiled in spite of himself. He and Ayce were always the last to wake up. Below them, they heard the clerics enter the establishment with their paladin commander behind them. Sajiix couldn’t make out any specific words, but the tone of the paladin left no room for error. The meek and helpless innkeeper’s voice drifted up to them with an obsequious wine and soon they could hear the squad attempt to climb the stairs quietly in the hopes of an ambush.
Tienn and Ayce stood near the door, their swords raised. Sajiix waved at them and motioned for them to stand back against the walls of the room. The last thing they needed was to fight another squad and use up precious amethyst energy he sorely needed for traveling the shadowpath. Closing his eyes, Sajiix began picturing his room and the one adjoining it.
“Keep quiet and do not move, even when they come in,” he ordered everyone.
His foci began to burn a soft mauve color as the room they stood in began to transform. The bed looked as though no one had slept in it, the smoldering ash in the hearth vanished, and all of Kaelyn and Sajiix’s gear disappeared. Sajiix did the same to Ayce and Tienn’s room next door. He held the image in his mind and then focused his energy on making all four of them unseen. The only clue Sajiix had to it working was the soft gasp from Ayce as they all became invisible.
Sajiix heard the room next to them being forced open at the same time their own door was kicked in. Two clerics rushed in so close that Sajiix could hear their chain mail swishing. They stopped abruptly, looking around the room. “This one is empty, too!” one shouted.
Sajiix heard the innkeeper profess his ignorance as to how the two Magi and their companions were able to leave without noticing. For a moment, Sajiix feared that the paladin would extract retribution for the innkeeper’s apparent lack of cooperation, but he only grunted and ordered his squad downstairs. The innkeeper poked his head in briefly, shaking it in agitation at being made a fool of. He slammed the door shut and marched down the hall. Only when his footsteps faded down the stairs did Sajiix release the illusion as though he were holding his breath. Everything returned as it was before – save for the look of marvel on both Tienn and Ayce.
“And they say shadow magic is useless,” Ayce grinned.
They remained quiet as the paladin rumbled an order or two downstairs and then marched out
the door with the four clerics. Sajiix glided to the window and peered over the ledge to watch the squad mount their horses and continue their ride west.
“You will have to be cautious on your way out of town,” Sajiix warned Tienn.
Tienn nodded as Ayce left the room to finish getting dressed. “I take it you will be using magic to reach Fhaalvak?”
“Eventually,” he answered, adjusting his vest and belt. “We travel to Valdine, first. I cannot take the risk of missing anything on the trail. Where are you and Ayce heading?”
Tienn smiled. “Fhaalvak. If the Zynnashans have gone berserk, then you will need all the help you can get.”
Sajiix felt the old familiar anger creep into his heart. “Still representing the Guild, are we?”
“No,” Tienn answered. “Cassius has proven that dream to be truly dead. Ayce and I do this for our friendship.”
Sajiix looked down at the light purple-skinned hand that clasped him on the shoulder and the anger flitted away like a winged insect. Sajiix nodded, too proud to show his true emotion, but thankful nonetheless for Tienn’s offer.
Sajiix stepped to the still rumpled bed and retrieved his cloak. “Then we shall meet you in Fhaalvak,” he said as he tugged on the fine purple-dyed material. Tienn offered his hand to him and Sajiix paused only briefly before accepting it.
“Safe journey,” Tienn smiled and then quickly exited the room with a quiet grace that only a Draaken could have.
Sajiix watched him go, silently wishing him the same.
Kaelyn finished adjusting her own cloak and collected her pouches as she stepped near her Dhama. “They do not seem to be the people you portrayed them to be,” she said coyly as she shifted the pouches on her belt.
“You forget your place, apprentice,” he snapped irritably, not liking her tone.
She looked into his eyes with apologetic worry. “Forgive me, Dhama. I only meant that Tienn and Ayce seem to still want your friendship.”
“Your point being?”
“You have told me that you were wrongfully removed from the Guild because of your search for the Shadowgem,” Kaelyn explained. “What will they think when they discover that the Purestone is involved? What will they do when they come to realize that you do what you do only to obtain it? They seem to think that you want to save people from harm.”
“And we shall continue to let them think that way,” Sajiix instructed angrily. “I have searched decades for a way to have the Shadowgem in my hands and the Purestone is the key. I cannot let anyone stand in the way of that. Anyone or anything…even friendship.”
22
Baris Malagotta sat with his back to the wall in the taproom of the Golden Harvest Inn watching the hardworking men of Fhaalvak enter for their well-earned libation of the day. They were a jovial lot, happy that their harvest of summer wheat, corn, and whatever else they stuck into the ground came out as well as they’d hoped. Personally, Baris couldn’t understand how they could live such mundane lives; basing their daily existence upon the same routine over and over and raising little brats to continue the cycle they started after their own parents made them plow the fields. Alas, such was the life of a planter. Perhaps there was something to be said for a simple, quiet life. If so, it was nothing Baris wanted to hear. He lived a life of risk and reward. And the artifact in his possession would bring him recompense that would last until he was old and gray.
The perils he took to steal it were easily as big.
His first risk was recruiting Braford and Tennek and telling them what their target actually was and where they were going to get it. The two proved to be quite the stalwart pair and served him well in stealing the Purestone from the Zynnashan altar and escaping across the ocean to Valdine. It was a pity he had to murder them though. They couldn’t resist showing the diamond to some high-ended local and using it as collateral for a card game. Such was life. It was better to have removed them now than wait until later. Of course, this left him without any backup, but he didn’t particularly think he’d need it in this pathetic town.
Fhaalvak is a border town straddling the churning lake where the Sardis’non River emerges from the western provinces of Vhaalia and Emeryvale and joins violently with the southeasterly flowing Kalavay River from the mountain ranges of Kadoris. This roiling, angry lake sucks in water from all nearby tributaries and hurls the confluent eastward, creating the Tebis’non that gushes to the north and east coasts of Kaalmoore.
It is here in Fhaalvak that imports from the other realms come to be traded with the kingdom of Kaalmoore. Likewise, Kaalmoore’s export products usually pass through Fhaalvak on their way west.
In Fhaalvak, you had the taste of different cultures in one stewpot. In the massive market district, you would find Kaalmoorian planters, priests of many divinations, Magi of different orders, Vhaalians, Kadori, Emeryvale Trailwalkers, and Knights of Kaalé – who held a small walled garrison just on the western edge of town. Even the Aristocracy of Kaalmoore was represented by the King’s cousin, Lord Demestri. It was a nice eclectic mix – one that a rogue such as Baris could easily hide in.
A pretty young barmaid pushed a broom past his table, eying him from head to toe - from the broad-rimmed hat that covered his short auburn hair, to the small crossbow hanging from his right hip as he lounged casually in his chair. Baris gave her a leering grin, stretching the scar he had under his left eye. The barmaid turned away, apparently having experience with such smiles. She pushed the broom faster and further away. Baris laughed and took another pull from the pewter cup in front of him and winced from its taste.
Baris was not one for such weak beverages, but he knew he had to keep his head clear if he wanted to part ways with the diamond before the Zynnashans arrived. He had received word from his benefactor that an envoy from the House of Diathanos was on his way to barter for the gem. He was also informed that other parties may be interested and that he could sell to anyone he wished.
Baris shook his head – a strange individual, that ‘benefactor’. The mercenary had never met the person, nor spoke. Their communication was transferred via hidden scroll cases with messages written in flowing black script. Baris was given an offer to steal the famed Val’Cryys gemstone and sell it at the highest bid. All Baris had to do was stay alive and leave ten percent of the sale for the benefactor. How could he possibly refuse?
Oh, Baris was quite sure he and the diamond were being used for some stupid scheme cooked up by some egotistical Magi or priest – but he didn’t care. All he wanted was profit, something the Eye of Diathanos was going to give to him in abundance. All Baris had to do was wait for the priests to show with the gold.
However, if the Zynnashans showed up in Fhaalvak before then?
Baris chuckled. That was why Fhaalvak was perfect. The Knights of Kaalé would provide enough cover for him to fence the diamond and leave the realm. It was going to be an epic battle. Perhaps he would stick around long enough to watch.
***
Captain Mikhal Longvaale attempted to stifle the shudder that ran unabated through his body while staring at the stack of parchment that waited for him at the militant, sterile desk that took up most of the space in his small office. It was the same amount that sat there last evening, and it would grow half its size if he allowed it to sit for too much longer. Captain Longvaale was quite certain that the stack consisted of border reports, supply counts, armament acquisitions, repair logs, and personal requests from his men.
He was also confident that there were more than a few notices of arrest since every village or hamlet near Fhaalvak considered this contingent of knights to be the only law enforcement within a three day ride of the garrison. The paperwork for running the outpost was massive enough without having to deal with every horse thief and goat hoarder on this side of the Tebis’non, not to mention the sudden arrival of two units of knights from Kaalé with orders stating that he was to assign them as best he could – a feat he had just recently accomplished without a decent expl
anation of why they were kicked out of the capital city in the first place.
A cold breeze wafted in through a square opening that served as a window up in the higher level of the squat tower. It rattled the papers, almost as if to remind him of the monotonous work that lay ahead. The sun was just coming up over the horizon, peeking through the last line of gray clouds that had given the area a soaking the previous day and night. The air was brisk, fresh, smelling as though the autumn rain had washed away the last vestiges of late summer. From his viewpoint in the tower, Mikhal was able to see the southern edge of Fhaalvak, creeping around the garrison like a needy child. Beyond it lay the lake and the wilds of southern Kaalmoore, a carpet of wooded lands now colored with treetops of orange, red, and violet. Thoughts of riding through those woods, searching for Boorsliig raiding parties gave him a sense of nostalgia. Mikhal was not an old man; he was barely gracing his middle years. He would have liked nothing more than to saddle his horse ‘Mater’ and partake of that once glorious activity.
Reality returned with a forlorn sigh and the snapping of the wood fire burning in the hearth behind him. Those days were over. The monstrous Boorsliigs were all but extinct and the merits of rank also included a dreary barrage of paperwork. Brushing unseen lint from the sleeve of his gray service uniform, Mikhal closed the wooden shutters to the window and maneuvered around his desk to the stiff, high-backed chair that had become his new warhorse.
The chair barely creaked as he sat down – which was attributed more to the chair’s age rather than his own build. Mikhal was quite fit for a man nearing forty-eight winters of life. He worked his body physically every mid-day, whether running around the high walls of the garrison or sparring with some of his lieutenants in the art of swordplay. Mikhal refused to let age dull his body or his mind. He viewed a slovenly appearance as nothing more than laziness and he shared this view with everyone under his command. His dark brown hair was trimmed short and neat and he made sure to shave his rugged face every day. He was not a pretty man, but he believed his appearance represented his command. He would not ask his men to do anything less than he would himself. That mantra applied to battle as well as personal appearance.
Rage of the Diamond's Eye (The Guildsmen Series Book 1) Page 25