Cathexis: Necromancer's Dagger

by Philip Blood

  They found another camp, but this one did not have the wagons and mules of a merchant train. There were ten guards and they looked like they were the escorts for one man. The man they guarded was dressed in the fine clothes of the aristocracy.

  “What is this then?” Bushwhacker asked from his prone position next to Elizabeth. They had left their horses behind a hill and both of them were looking down on the camp from the hilltop. They had approached the top of the hill in a crouch to keep from being silhouetted by the moon’s light.

  “He must be someone of importance, he rates ten guards. I’ve seen rich merchants with fewer than that,” Elizabeth replied thoughtfully.

  “We’ll have te tell Razor about them. They’re too close te the merchant, they might ride te his aid,” the bandit reasoned.

  “I’m curious about this man, why don’t ya wait here while I take a closer look?” Elizabeth suggested.

  “Don’t stir them up,” Bushwhacker cautioned.

  “I’ll be as silent as a summer breeze,” she replied, then slipped back off the crest of the hill.

  When Elizabeth drew close to one of their sentries she concentrated and listened in on his surface thoughts. When she learned enough she sneaked back to the horses and told Bushwhacker what she had learned. “I heard two of the sentries discussing their employer. He’s one of the Usurper’s kesera Marshals, sent to collect the taxes from the local collectors. He’s on his way to Chasser to deliver the round he has collected during the past month.”

  “This pompous looking animal is a tax collector for the Usurper?” Bushwhacker asked incredulously.

  “Yes, even worse he’s the overseer of the local tax collectors,” Elizabeth explained.

  “Wait,” Bushwhacker said, “Ten guards are a lot, but not enough te protect someone transport’in that much round. They’d have brought an army, after all, they know this is bandit territory,” Bushwacker reasoned.

  Elizabeth knew Bushwhacker’s argument was correct, but she also knew that the tax collector was down there with ten guards and the round metal. Elizabeth considered the facts; they had brought enough guards to fight off a solo highway robber, but not a large group of bandits. It was as if they knew they would not be attacked by the Riond bandits. Then something clicked in Elizabeth’s mind, it was the only thing that made sense of the facts, and she spoke immediately, “Wernok is in with the Usurper!” she exclaimed, turning to look in Bushwhacker’s eyes, “That’s why they know a bandit group won’t attack and that’s why they don’t need an army of protection.”

  Bushwhacker pondered her claim for a moment “He can’t be, at any time he could have betrayed us and brought the Usurper down on us all.”

  “Right, whenever, it’s just that the time hasn’t been right. He’s been expanding the band by absorbing smaller bandit groups. When he has most of them ready he’ll turn us all in for his pay,” Elizabeth exclaimed, with fire in her voice.

  Doubt was creeping into Bushwhacker’s voice. “What makes ya think this is true?”

  “All the scouts report te him, right?” she asked.

  The big man nodded.

  “Would they have missed a group this close to the merchant?” she inquired.

  “No, they’re too close,” Bushwhacker admitted.

  “Then Wernok knew, but he didn’t warn us because he didn’t want us attacking them. Razor may be in on it too, Wernok had te put someone in charge who knew not to bother the tax collector, otherwise, we might stumble onto them by accident and attack his master's round collector,” Elizabeth explained. She failed to mention that she also knew both Wernok and Razor had identical mind shields, proving that both worked for the same person.

  “Ya may be jump’in te conclusions,” Bushwhacker warned.

  “We can test my theory, let’s tell Razor about the Tax Marshal and then see if he decides to attack or if he still wants to go after the Belorn merchants,” she advocated.

  “All right we'll try it your way, but if he goes for the tax collector we pretend we never had this little conversation. Let’s get back and see what unfolds,” he said, finishing the conversation.

  They rode into the bandit camp and found Razor waiting impatiently before the low coals of the fire. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, the red glow of the coals reflected off his eyes giving him an inhuman look.

  “Why are you late?” were his words of greeting.

  “We spotted another party and went to check them out. They have ten fighters and they’re too close te the merchant fer my comfort,” Bushwhacker said before Elizabeth could speak.

  “They are no problem, we go as planned,” Razor commanded.

  “You didn’t even ask how close they were,” Elizabeth said, stepping forward into the light of the coals.

  Razor turned slowly to face Elizabeth as he said, “We will take the merchant so quickly that they will not even know anything is amiss.”

  “We scouted the second party,” Elizabeth started to say, but Razor interrupted, “On who’s orders?”

  “On our own initiative,” she responded.

  “That was foolish, you could have alerted them to our presence,” Razor rebuked.

  “Regardless, we scouted them and found a Tax Marshal traveling with the round squeezed from the populace of this entire area, and he’s only guarded by ten men,” Elizabeth explained.

  “How could you learn all that from a quick scout of their camp?” Razor scoffed.

  “I overheard two of the sentries discussing their employer,” Elizabeth exaggerated.

  “Can you confirm?” Razor demanded of Bushwhacker.

  “No, I waited while Poison did the close scout,” he explained.

  “As I thought, our newest member comes with an unsubstantiated and ridiculous claim, we take the merchant as planned,” he said, ending the discussion.

  Bushwhacker shrugged when Elizabeth looked to check his reaction.

  Razor stepped forward, placing himself next to Elizabeth, and then leaned down to adjust a branch in the fire. As he stood he twisted his hidden right hand dropping a dagger out of his wrist sheath into his waiting palm.

  Because of his mind shield Elizabeth could not read his intention to commit murder, but at that moment, she happened to be reading Bushwhacker in an attempt to see his opinion of Razor.

  Bushwhacker saw the knife drop into his hand, but was too far away to do anything and too slow to call out warning.

  But Elizabeth saw the picture of the knife in his mind and tried to twist her body away from the speeding point of death.

  Razor was mildly surprised when his target tried to move, but he was too practiced a killer to miss so easy a target once his hand was in motion. His blade took her in the side, just missing the kidney for which he had been aiming.

  Elizabeth spun to the ground; her twisting attempt to avoid the blade saved her from an even worse wound. She landed on the ground and then rolled to get further away from the murdering lieutenant.

  Razor knew he had struck a mortal wound from the feel of the knife entering her body. He felt no need to hurry the final blow, so he walked forward slowly savoring his kill. This was what he lived for, the terror of his victim, the feel of the knife sliding into the soft flesh, the light of understanding when the victim realized their inevitable demise and his ultimate power and the fading of that light when their life seeped from their body.

  Razor lived for death.

  Elizabeth was in great pain and furious with herself for letting her guard down, but her Kirnath training came to her aid again and she calmed immediately. Watching through the eyes of Bushwhacker who stood in mute surprise at the sudden attack, she saw Razor approaching slowly. Quickly she concentrated her powers and began to heal the vicious knife wound in her side. She only needed a few moments of complete concentration to finish her labor.

  Razor stopped to look down at her still body, preparing for the bliss of her death which unknowingly gave her the time she needed.

&
nbsp; Now completely healed, Elizabeth suddenly rolled away and up to her feet, a knife appearing in her hand. She wanted to blast the sick killer who stood before her, but she could not afford to reveal her powers to the rest of the men. She calmed herself and Hetark’s voice echoed in her memory as she went over the instructions he had given her about a knife fight. Then memories of Poison’s battles flowed through her mind, brought up at her command.

  Razor did not attack when he saw her get up and take a defensive stance; he waited for the wound to do its work. He could see a wet stain on her side, blood from the wound.

  Soon she will be too weak to stand, she will stagger and her vision will cloud and then I will take her, he thought.

  But Elizabeth stood strong, waiting.

  The other men had begun to stir, getting up and seeing the two combatants facing each other from six feet apart.

  “What’s go’in on?” one bandit asked.

  “Tell them what’s happening, Razor,” Elizabeth said in a confident tone.

  “She endangered you all by exceeding her commands and scouting another camp, near enough to our target to alert them, now she’s paying the price of disobedience,” Razor explained, then moved forward, his knife ready.

  Elizabeth could not read his moves, so she relied on her instruction and memories learned from Hetark and Poison.

  Razor lunged and Elizabeth cut at his arm, dancing away from the thrust.

  “What would you all say if I told you where you could find a lot of the round taken from your countrymen around these parts? Taken by the Usurper’s tax collectors and given to the Tax Marshal,” Elizabeth asked the watching men.

  “She lies, there is no Marshal here, he wouldn’t travel without protection,” Razor countered and then suddenly threw his dagger at Elizabeth while pulling another from his thigh sheath. He knew he had to silence her quickly.

  Elizabeth dodged and launched three daggers in return in rapid succession. Razor somersaulted, spun and twisted to avoid the projectiles. Bandits dodged and ducked, scrambling for cover.

  Elizabeth took that brief moment to get in another comment, “I scouted their camp, but Razor didn’t want to tell any of you. I wonder why? He didn’t want me to tell you either, so he is trying to silence me. Could it be because he knew about the Tax Marshal even before I told him? Perhaps he is in allegiance with the Usurper,” she accused.

  “She lies, you all know me, she is the stranger here,” Razor countered, and then launched an attack, slashing and stabbing, driving Elizabeth back toward a group of bushes.

  “Yes, you all know this man… and is Razor a man you trust? Is he a patriot of Autrany? Or is he a cold-blooded killer who cares for nothing but himself?” Elizabeth asked.

  When she heard some men beginning to grumble she knew she had hit the right nerve, they were coming over to her side.

  Razor heard it also, and said, “Any man who sides with this traitor will die on my blade, tonight!” he threatened.

  It was the wrong thing to say, Bushwhacker called out, “I’ll not put up with yer threats, ya boot lick’in scum! I was out there with Poison; the Marshal is there, just like she says!”

  Razor felt control of the men slipping away, so he prepared to finish Poison in his next attack.

  Elizabeth knew she had the men on her side, now she had to finish Razor before he finished her, so she prepared a plan swiftly and put it into action.

  Razor saw his opponent clutch her side and stagger slightly.

  At last, he thought, the wound is taking effect.

  He watched and saw the opening he needed, the way in was on her wounded side where she could not parry his blow. Feinting right he shifted his feet and came in at the unprotected wounded flank of his opponent.

  As Razor anticipated, she did not make the parry; instead, she made a limber step to the side so that his thrust only grazed her lightly. The blade barely sliced through her leather and into the skin. At the same time, he felt a thump on his chest as his momentum made him continue past her position.

  He staggered and then turned to face his elusive opponent knowing he needed to finish her soon. His vision began to cloud and he staggered a step, he figured he was more tired than he anticipated. He felt pain and looked down to see a dagger hilt projecting out of his chest.

  His foggy mind noted that it wasn’t supposed to be there, but as he tried to reach for the hilt his legs buckled and he dropped to his knees. Looking up into the intense eyes of Elizabeth he had a last instance of clarity, he realized that she had beaten him, and then the light of life faded from the killer’s eyes.

  Elizabeth turned her back on the dead lieutenant and faced the shocked bandits. “This filth was a traitor to Autrany, the merchant that he wanted to attack is from Belorn, a country that has always been an ally of Autrany. I say we leave them be and take the Tax Marshal and all the round metal he has squeezed from our friends. He only has ten guards, we can easily defeat those guards and capture the Marshal, then we can parade him into camp tomorrow as heroes! We'll be very rich heroes. Are you with me?” she called out.

  “I’m with you,” Bushwhacker yelled.

  “And I,” another called out.

  “I always hated that murderous, slither eyed, scum,” another of the bandits said, spitting on the body of Razor, “I’m with you.”

  The rest of the bandit squad all through in under the leadership of Elizabeth. She gathered them together and went over their plan of attack.

  “G’Taklar, I’m thirsty, can I have another drink?” Rachael asked the young man as they fled their Tchulian pursuers through the night’s cloaking darkness.

  “A small one, we have to conserve most of the water for the horses. From what I know we have at least another night’s ride ahead of us and the horses have already used a lot of our water in the two days since we left the river,” he answered.

  “Are they getting any closer?” she asked, looking fearfully behind them, but the sky was still too dark to see anything.

  “I wish I knew, but when we left the river and hills they were perhaps a half-day behind. Since this G’lan forsaken dessert is flat I can’t tell if they’ve closed the distance. We need some high ground to look at our back trail,” he explained.

  “There’s something off to the left, up ahead, do you see?” she asked pointing with her right hand.

  Something even darker than the night sky blocked the stars behind it.

  “Yes, I believe you’re right,” he said when he squinted and looked. “What do you think that is?” he thought to Jatar.

  “I don’t know, from the maps I remember of this region, there shouldn’t be any towns until you pass the border into Autrany. Besides, there would be lights,” he thought back to G’Taklar.

  “Do you think it wise to head in that direction? If we can climb up on something we could check on our pursuit,” G’Taklar thought to Jatar, looking for advice.

  “It’s your call, perhaps it’s only an outcropping of rocks,” Jatar guessed.

  “I think we’ll take a closer look, we need somewhere to hole up and rest anyway. If those are rocks it will do my nerves good to know if the pursuit is still with us, or getting any closer,” G’Taklar decided.

  “Are you busy thinking again?” Rachael asked. “I know you’ve told me not to bother you when you get quiet to think, but you’re the longest thinker I’ve ever met. Are we going to see what’s over there or not?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he answered.

  “Yes? After all that thinking, the total sum of what you came up with was ‘yes’?” she asked him sarcastically.

  “Yes,” he replied again, irritated at her sarcasm.

  “I should have left you in that stockade, my horse is a better companion,” she said, now angry as well.

  “And I should have a Kirnath examine my head for coming with you,” he answered.

  “They won’t find anything, but air,” was her immediate retort.

  They rode in silence, hea
ding for the tall objects, each of them stewing in angry thoughts.

  “So, did she make you angry?” Jatar asked.

  “This girl is a real pain in the saddle, if you get my meaning,” G’Taklar responded.

  “Then you think this is her fault?” he prompted back.

  “She’s the one who got sarcastic,” G’Taklar defended.

  “Then you believe you’re right?” Jatar continued.

  “Yes, I am,” G’Taklar assured Jatar and himself.

  “Then apologize.”

  “What?”

  “Apologize. You know you’re right, so why make her eat a sour dish? It takes a mature person, the kind of man who can become a knight, to apologize when they’re in the right. Making someone grovel is for the weak and cruel,” Jatar explained to his young cousin.

  “You would have apologized to Elizabeth if you’d been right?” G’Taklar posed to Jatar.

  “On a good day, when I was thinking correctly, yes; it’s the smartest thing you can do if you want to keep peace and the respect of your woman,” he answered.

  “Rachael’s not my girl,” was G’Taklar’s embarrassed response.

  “Of course not!” Jatar thought strongly.

  G’Taklar wasn’t sure if Jatar was being facetious or not, so he chose to assume he wasn’t. “Right, but I’ll do what you suggest to calm her down.” To Rachael, he said, “I’m sorry I was short with you, I was wrong. I could’ve explained my reasons to you and I’ll try to next time.”

  “And I’m sorry I snapped at you when you have so much to think about,” she apologized back.

  “There, was that so bad?” Jatar asked.

  “No, and she apologized as well, does it always work that way with girls?” he asked.

  “More often than not, unless you really rubbed their fur the wrong way, then it may take a little longer,” Jatar answered.

  “I’ll try and remember that,” G’Taklar promised.

  Jatar’s next thought was only to himself. Too bad memories like that seem to take a vacation when you’re angry.

  As they got closer to the rock outcropping they could make out more details, they were approaching large rounded off stones. One, in particular, towered high into the air and was surrounded by some smaller stones, but even the smallest would be as large as a big house. The central stone stood about as tall as a four-story building.