An Adept's Duty: The Scepter of Maris: Book Two

by James R Barnes

  Borden, on the other hand, excelled in training. She was fearless, and had become quite good with her two-hand style of fighting. She had done all of the requisite training with sword and shield, and was well above average, but she had always preferred a short-sword and heavy dagger when not in formal training with the rest of the company assigned to the castle. Now, since meeting Meric Vettor and his companions, she had taken to training with two short-swords when she had time. Barclay could not blame her after having had the opportunity to watch those four train.

  Vettor, while primarily an archer was still a good bit better than average with a sword, as was Malina Faber, though she used speed over strength. Brody Sonder was much more than just a mountain of muscle, and moved with surprising fluidity and grace for someone his size. The bearded warrior was much better in close quarters than either Vettor or Faber. Silas Tarrint was an entirely different creature all together. Barclay had not entirely believed Bridgewater's report about the man's skill until he and his people had watched as Tarrint faced off against his three companions. The three had obviously worked together before, moving as one unit rather than three individuals, but it had not been enough. Every swing of their weapons, even working in concert had either met Tarrint's blades or nothing but air. The wiry swordsman with ice-blond hair had stayed on the defensive for a time, but after awhile he attacked; Vettor and Faber were out shortly after, and even Sonder (who Barclay was not ashamed to admit would have been a challenge for Glendon's best) did not last long, especially without the support of the other two.

  After the display there had been a few of the junior soldiers caught trying to use a dual sword technique, usually after reporting to the infirmary with "training injuries". The Master-at-Arms had quickly put a stop to it, but had allowed a few who showed promise (like Borden) to continue the training with special instruction from himself.

  These wayward thoughts had been rolling through his head as he made his way to the training yard, and he was already feeling some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Some time for his thoughts to be occupied with something other than war and his daughter's well-being were just what he needed. First Sergeant Reilly Fordham, the Master-at-Arms himself, was conducting sword drills with a class when Barclay entered the yard. Fordham shot a quick glance, no more than a shift of the eyes, at his Lord Marshall, but thankfully drew no attention to the fact that he was there. The sparring ring, cordoned off by stones and covered in fine white sand, was in the back of the yard and that was where he headed. Barclay began to warm up while he waited on his two staff members, while using the sounds and smells around him to dominate his thoughts. Time to stop thinking for a short while.

  #

  Freshly bathed and seated at his desk, Barclay stretched out his arm for the mulled cider sitting to his right and let out an appreciative sigh after the first sip. He was a little tired and had a few new bruises, but it was the good kind of tired and the bruises were hard earned. All in all, it had been a good training session. Poor Stewart was having a hard time deciding whether he was proud or mortified for being the cause of two of the lumps Barclay had taken. A quiet laugh slipped out as Barclay set his goblet back down. He would call it progress since Stewart had not stopped altogether after the first hit.

  Shifting his attention back to their preparations, Barclay picked up the stack of messages in front of him and began to read. Most of them were just there to provide him with information. All but a few of the ones requiring some action had already been seen to by Stewart and Borden, and had notes accompanying them as to their disposition. After signing off on the fifth such missive Barclay was interrupted by three short, quiet knocks and the door being eased open.

  Three heads raised up to see who was entering the room. The two officers went back to what they were doing when they recognized Miles Keller, whom they had worked with before. Dressed in rough civilian clothes and hunched at the shoulders, the man was worriedly twisting a knit cap in his hands and ducking his head continuously while apologizing for the interruption. As soon as the door shut behind him, the nervous little man with the dirt-smeared face disappeared and a straight-backed, confident gentleman of noble bearing replaced him. With just above average height and a fit physique, it was a mystery how the man could turn into the character that walked through the door a moment ago. Barclay had seen Miles walk right by people he had grown up with and they had never given him a second look.

  A mischievous grin (roguish was the description Barclay's wife once used) was aimed at Stewart and Borden, mostly at Borden, before the man faced Barclay.

  "Lord Marshall. If you have a moment," said the Royal Spy Master's second-in-command.

  The grin had been replaced by as serious a countenance as Barclay had ever seen on the noble, and that could mean only one thing. For all of the man's usual carefree manner and constant flirting, he was as loyal to King and Crown as anyone Barclay had ever met, himself included. When it came to the security of his kingdom, Miles was deadly serious. His ability to go from an easily recognizable noble to someone you would not even give a second thought to as he passed you on the street was uncanny. Add to that his abilities with the Gift, and he made a formidable clandestine operative. With these skills, and being one of only three Adepts in the Spy Master's employ, one would think the man would be working in foreign lands keeping an eye on anyone interested in Glendon, but his boss kept him close to home for reasons that were not shared with anyone but the King.

  Miles had stopped in front of the desk and even through the grave look on his face Barclay could see some excitement.

  "Report."

  Miles did not even hesitate.

  "The idiot finally worked up the courage to do it, and apparently found some other idiots to join him." Miles did not even wait for the question to form before he went on.

  "Sorry. Lord Atwood." At that Barclay sat up straighter while Carver continued. "He is meeting with his fellow conspirators this very night."

  There was silence as that statement settled in, but it only lasted a few seconds.

  "What do you need?" Barclay knew that Keller would have already been working up a plan as soon as a location was known, and he trusted him enough to let him lead this operation.

  "A platoon should do it. They are meeting in five hours, but they most likely already have people watching the area they will use. I will find a place for the soldiers to stage out of sight. One of my people and I will go in as soon as it is dark, and silence any lookouts. On my signal, or at some predetermined time, the platoon moves in. We do not know who all of the players are at this point, so we will have to detain anyone in the target area." Keller turned back toward the room's other two occupants, focusing on Borden. "Can you pull out a map of the docks, love?"

  The spy turned back too quickly to see Borden's deadly glare, or Stewart's smirk, and waved Barclay over to the map table. The two of them reached the table at the same time as Borden, and she slapped down the requested chart with a little more force than was strictly necessary. Keller only smiled and spread out the map.

  The Waterfront District was a rectangular section of Dallena that ran from east to west where the river passed along the outer edge of the city and was unofficially divided into two sections; Merchant's Row took up the majority and was dominated by warehouses, a multitude of businesses, and a shipyard. The Dumps, as the western-most end was referred to, was a much rougher area that joined up to the Poor Quarter (another unofficial name) and was home to a few seedy pubs, a brothel, some rundown warehouses, and other small businesses. The Dumps got its name from a rash of murders about thirty years ago where the killers always used the area to "dump" the bodies. Eventually it was found to be two rival groups of thieves having a war over territory, and was put down by the Crown, but the name stuck.

  "The meeting will be in The Dumps at this warehouse. We take out the lookouts and surround the place. The soldiers can move in and make sure all of the exits to the building are covered. You might
want to make sure that whoever leads them in will not have any trouble subduing nobility." Keller punctuated this statement with a quick glance at Stewart whose face quickly began to match the irritation of Borden.

  Barclay shut down any argument before it even began.

  "That will not be an issue. Where exactly will you be? I had assumed you would be the first one in."

  "Ahh... normally you would be correct. However, the reason this structure makes such a good meeting place for those planning nefarious deeds is because it has another exit that is cleverly hidden." Keller pointed at two adjacent buildings. "There is an underground tunnel. Each end exits in one of these establishments. Normally it is used by certain affluent people who would never allow anyone to see them frequenting such a disreputable place as this brothel."

  Keller's finger landed on one of the buildings and then skimmed across the map, bisecting the warehouse and ended at the other building.

  "They enter this pub, make their way into the back, take the tunnel to this house of ill repute. Their stature as an upright man of virtue remains intact."

  "Men," Borden scoffed, eliciting a grin from Keller.

  "A bolt hole was eventually added to this warehouse, making it an ideal meeting place for those of a villainous nature. A tidy side profit is made by the man who owns all three buildings for access with no questions asked."

  The spy grinned when he looked up to see Stewart and Borden looking at him like they had never seen him before. Barclay could understand; the man seemed very well informed about the darker side of the city. Instead of enlightening them, he turned his attention back to the map.

  "I will take the brothel entrance."

  Keller ignored Borden's rather unladylike snort.

  "I would like to request Borden's assistance for the other entrance."

  Barclay was sure that the confusion on his two officers' faces was matched by his own, although Borden was beginning to turn suspicious. Before anyone could ask, Keller spoke again.

  "My... apprentice's training in arms is not yet sufficient that I would send her into potential danger alone. I would rather have someone I trust down there to protect her."

  Barclay had to admit, the look on Borden's face was priceless. The young woman did not know what to think of that.

  "Alright, let us flesh out a plan. We can adapt it once we have more info." Barclay leaned over the table with the others and got to work.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Treason

  There was just something about catching evil men doing bad things that made Miles feel truly alive. This is what he was meant to do, why he was born. For roughly the first half of his twenty-eight years in this world, he had been a carefree, somewhat (completely) spoiled, and pampered first son to a noble family. The House of Keller was fairly high up in the hierarchy of nobility, as such things were measured, and his future was guaranteed to be full of laziness and fun. Without any real knowledge of what Lord Keller did with his days, young Miles believed it was all parties, hunting, carousing (he had learned what that was from some of his older and wiser peers), and drinking all night. He did not look forward to it, any more than he dreaded it. This was just the way of things. It was what would be expected of him, and so he would learn to live that life.

  When he was thirteen this listless view of existence changed abruptly. Had Miles been able to carry on as he was, there might have been some point when he realized the true responsibilities that came with the title of Lord Keller and changed his attitude accordingly. There is also the chance that he would have laughed off such responsibility and went in search of his next drink or conquest, just like more than a few of his fellows did.

  No one would ever know, because of what happened that winter. After skipping out on his lessons again so he could spend his day climbing trees, his governess had caught and dragged his dirt-and-grime-stained self, back inside to a tub and dumped him in; torn and stained clothes included. In an attempt to finally get through and teach him a lesson, he assumed, she had not taken the time to heat the water. Before he could yell at her, she had dumped another bucket of freezing water (to this day he still believed there had been chunks of ice in it) over him and stood back to look, satisfaction plain on her face.

  His shock quickly turned to anger, and he squeezed his eyes shut and screamed his fury at her. That is when it happened. One instant he was sopping wet and freezing, the next his body was flushed with warmth and he was standing in an empty tub, completely dry. His eyes had shot open in confusion and when he looked down at himself and the washtub, there was not a drop of water to be found. The bottom of the wooden tub looked like it had not even seen any water all day. Eyes still wide, he turned to look at Jennifer and found his governess now standing on a wet floor, completely soaked and starting to shiver. Her eyes were also wide, and she was looking at him in shock and what looked like growing fear. Even though her now blue tinged lips opened and closed several times, she never said anything. With barely a squeak, she spun around and dashed out of the room. A second later she finally found her voice and screamed for Miles' father at the top of her lungs.

  After weeks of fear and confusion on the part of Miles and Jennifer, frustration and his own deep fear for his son had finally led Lord Henry Keller to confide in his closest friend, Lord Camden. Barclay had come to their home with the King's senior adviser, and after sitting down with Miles and his father and mother Miles' life had changed forever. An initial bout of terror at the mention of magic had eventually given way to a whole new world of possibility. Instead of being executed for his abilities, he was to be trained and given a purpose. Miles had never looked back. Now, as he made his way down dark streets to confront enemies of his Kingdom, he could not imagine his life being any different. He played the part of a spoiled noble son when he needed to keep up appearances, but the real Miles would be almost unrecognizable to his peers. Determination and duty were his driving force, but he had found that it was true what they said; if you love what you do, you will never work a day in your life. And Miles truly loved what he did.

  #

  All was quiet as Miles stood in the shadows of an alley three buildings down from the target warehouse. At his side were Erin Borden and his apprentice, Anna. Miles could still feel the anger radiating off of Erin, though it had cooled somewhat in the last few minutes. Anna stood pressed up to his side and leaned around him to look for herself. She was the reason for Erin's anger, but Miles was not too worried. He could understand the soldier's feeling to a certain extent. A raid to capture traitors in a seedy part of town in the middle of the night was not exactly an ideal environment for a twelve year old girl. A twelve year old anyone, really. Life was not always ideal though. Especially for those with the Gift.

  As Erin had been learning this evening, young Anna was indeed Gifted. The man lying a few yards back down the alley in a deep sleep should be all the evidence needed, but there were a few more just like him if it was not enough. Erin and Miles had stood right behind Anna as she concentrated on the first lookout they had come across, and a few seconds later the man slumped to the ground, unconscious. After checking that the man was still breathing, Erin's ire had started to calm, but he could tell that she was still far from comfortable. The fact that the soldier had begun arguing with him the second she found out that Anna was the one she was to protect, and the woman loudly proclaiming that an eight year old had no business being there, had not sat well with the twelve year old Anna (she was small for her age, and hated that fact). Though they did not have time to go into detail, he had explained what the young girl could do, and she was the one who knew how to get to the other entrance. Erin would just have to deal with it and they could argue later.

  For now, there was still work to be done. Even while he kept a careful eye out, it was too dark to see into any of the numerous shadows that could conceal more lookouts. Fortunately for them, both he and Anna had other means. In speaking with other Gifted, and from his own studies of magic, h
e had learned that it was normal for shifting to the Sight to take a little extra effort and concentration. Spirit magic was the most difficult to master, and the hardest to employ, but could be the most useful for people like him. He could see the concentrated yellow shimmer that denoted a person two buildings down, and leaning against the wall of the alley. There was only the one, as far as he could see, so he waited. Sure enough, several heartbeats later, Anna held up two fingers. One little arm pointed directly at the man he had found, but then shifted to point up their side of the street. Anna tugged on his collar to bring him down until she could whisper in his ear that the other one was directly across from the first.

  Anna was much like Alyssa Camden, in that both could "feel" the energies that each form of magic used. While he could see and manipulate them all to some extent, Water was his specialty with Earth not too far behind. Miles did not exactly understand it. He was considered strong in the Gift, and could make every drop of water in a good sized pond do his bidding, but if he did not see the energy being disturbed by something, he could not tell if it had changed. Nor could he affect it. He knew Alyssa could feel when people disturbed the air around her when she wanted to, even if they were in another room with a closed door between them. There was only one other that he knew of that could "feel the magic", the rest of them were like Miles. It had once frustrated him, but he had learned to just let it go. While he was strong, Alyssa was on an entirely different level, and only William Stanton, the King's adviser and head of the Gifted Order was stronger. Neither Alyssa, nor William seemed to think anything of measuring their strength, and so Miles had eventually come to terms with it. He was strong enough.