by J. T. Hartke
“I’ll help all I can.” Tanya gasped. “Maddi! I almost forgot! Ami’s in here!”
The girl ran into a side chamber, dark with shadows. Maddi followed close, and Tallen stood behind her. He shaped Fire and Air into a globe of light to reveal a dozen cages along the wall. Two held the withered corpses of very old women. In the third lay a woman with a youngish face, but her hair was a shock of bright white.
“Ami!” Tanya dashed over and grabbed her hand.
Tallen heard Maddi gasp with shock. She knelt down behind the girl. “Ami…what…what happened?”
The woman in the cage turned her head slowly, but her visage brightened at the sight of Maddi and Tanya. Tallen felt Maddi embrace her Talent and the subsequent flow of psahn into the woman.
“He drained me,” Ami said, her voice strengthening while she spoke. “Drained me of my psahn almost to the point of death. I think he only kept me alive to use against you.”
Tallen examined the woman from a distance. “What is wrong with her?”
Maddi looked up at him, sudden realization on her face. “You’ve never met Ami before, have you? She is no older than me, Tallen.”
He took a step back. She looks at least a decade older than that.
“I’ll be alright.” Ami sat up and shook the bars. “Just let me out.”
Tallen infused Earth into the lock until it cracked apart. With Maddi’s help, Ami stood up and stretched her back, before gesturing for the others to move.
“We shouldn’t go back the way I came.” Tallen thumbed over his shoulder. “We made quite a ruckus at the College, and the place is probably swarming with guards. I have no idea how many of them are in the Lord Doctor’s pay.” Exhaustion made him dizzy. “I don’t think I have much left in me.”
Her face wrinkling in concern, Maddi pulled Tanya close. “We should not follow Marten. He probably headed straight for more of his goons, and we can’t take Tanya into a fight.” She glanced at one of the tunnels. “He could well be on his way back already.”
Tallen touched the pool of Psoul Aspect in the back of his mind, relieved to find that it responded. He reached out, following the spider web of tunnels under the city. “This way,” he said firmly, setting out down another passage. “This will take us toward my friends. They will help us.”
With his Psoul-enhanced senses leading him and the globe of light leading the others, Tallen wove his way through tunnels that grew danker as they descended. For a long time, he mostly guessed which direction to follow, hoping to find some sense of Tomas or Dorias. Familiar patterns flickered at the edge of his awareness. After several minutes, his reserves began to wane again. His connection with the Psoul Aspect wavered.
A ladder!
Pushing open a rotted door with a blast of Air, he led the others into a chamber filled with old casks and empty crates. A ladder led upward in the center of the room.
“I think they are nearby,” he whispered. “I’ll go first.”
His Psoul net detected no one above, but he could barely hold it, and it reached only a few yards. Sighing, he let it go and prepared his shield of Earth and Air. Before heading up the ladder, he looked once at Maddi, who nodded encouragement.
He pushed against the trap door, first feeling resistance then something slide. The door opened with little trouble after that. Upon exiting, he noticed shelves stacked with potatoes and other roots. One wall held the dotted crosshatch of a well-stocked wine rack. Thin, reedy music carried down from a flight of plank steps. Once he cleared the hatch, the women soon followed, Maddi last of all.
The rumble of voices echoed from above. “Sounds like we’re below a tavern,” he whispered, his gaze tracing the steps upward. A wooden door let little blades of light into the cellar. “I’ll go first. The rest of you stay close.”
While climbing the stairs, Tallen reached out again with his mist of Psoul. A dozen people milled about overhead, though his strength had not yet returned enough for him to reach outside the building. He could barely sense the patterns, and they shifted about like candle flames in the wind. With a deep breath, he let go of Psoul and pushed the door open.
No one looked at him save a serving maid. “Here now, you don’t be goin’ down there,” she barked. “The privy is out the back!”
Tallen danced with one leg crossed over the other. “Thanks, ma’am.” He headed toward the back door, noticing the askance look the woman gave Maddi and the others.
Once in the alley, Tallen breathed a little easier. “Come on.” He jerked his head toward the main street. “This way. I can lead you—”
“There you are,” a baritone voice called from behind him. “I’ve been chasing your pattern all over the city.”
Tallen’s breath caught before he turned to see Tomas Harte, his brow knit in concern. Behind him stood Dorias Ravenhawke, Merl perched upon his shoulder. Another man leaned against the building next to them, his head shaven and twin swords strapped to his belt.
“You!” Maddi shouted, pushing Tanya into Ami’s arms and stalking forward. “You are a friend of Tymin Marten. You knew him at the Midwinter Ball.”
The shaven-headed man held up his hands defensively, backing away from Maddi’s advance. Dorias and Tomas both lifted eyebrows in surprise.
“Doctor Maddi…yes.” He bowed his head. “It is good to see you again.”
“Don’t ever call me Doctor.” She pointed a fierce finger at him as if it were one of her absent daggers. “Why are you here? Did he hire you to follow us?”
Tomas held up his tattooed hand, the pearl and onyx symbol of the Paladins of Balance flashing in the daylight. “Maddi, please stop. Gwelan is a trusted friend of ours. He is not in league with Lord Doctor Marten, I assure you.”
Dorias stepped up behind him. “It’s true, Maddi. And it is good to see you again.” Merl squawked agreement.
Maddi folded her arms but did not retreat. “He’s worked for the doctor before. He admitted as much. Sylipsis root, if I remember correctly, and I know that I do.” She turned to look at Tallen, her expression begging for support. Tanya and Ami clung to each other in silence, fearful of the well-armed strangers. “It’s an ingredient in some poisons – poison I overheard the doctor planning to use.”
The man with the twin swords bowed his head. “Maddi…that was a long time ago…before I understood better the character of the Lord Doctor. Our meeting at the Midwinter Ball was pure happenstance.” He tilted his head toward Tomas and Dorias. “Since I met them some years ago, many things in my life have changed.”
Tomas reached out to clap Gwelan on the shoulder. “Many orphans sleep warm and eat every night in the city of Avaros because of our friend. He lives in the Balance.”
With a shake of her head, Maddi threw up her hands and turned back to Tallen. “Well, I guess that settles it then.” The sarcasm in her voice almost made Tallen wince. She looked back at the shaven-headed man with an angry glare. “Fine, but I’ll be watching my back.”
Giving their new companion his own wary examination, Tallen put one hand on Maddi’s shoulder. He searched for something to say. Before he could find words, Dorias cut in.
“What was that about poison and the Lord Doctor, Maddi?” The wizard pressed closer. “What exactly did you overhear?”
Tallen kept his hand on Maddi’s shoulder, and she leaned against him before answering Dorias. “At the Midwinter Ball I overheard him talking with the Lord Chancellor. There was someone they had hoped to poison…someone important. But they did not get it done because this person left the city too soon.” Worry haunted her stance as she looked at Tomas. “Someone we know?”
“Boris,” the paladin and wizard said in unison.
Knitting his brow, Tallen looked to Dorias. “Why? He’s a general and an earl, I know, but even he admitted that there is no power or land with an earldom.” He thought back to the day in the Hi
gh Hall before the king. “He does seem to hold a lot of respect with the nobility.”
“Yes,” Dorias said, nodding toward Tallen. “Keep going down that line.”
Thinking back to a book he had once read on Gannonite nobility, Tallen lifted his hand to his chin. “Earls are granted their title by the king alone; they do not inherit it from their father…”
Odd shaped pieces of thought and misplaced comments sifted together in his brain. A man in an inn calling Boris “the Bastard of Mourne”; a duke paying Boris deference. An earl does not outrank a duke…but who does…? A prince!
“No…” The word oozed from his mouth as realization dawned on him. “Boris is Arathan’s bastard son!”
“Hush!” Dorias waved a hand, while Tomas searched about for anyone who might have heard. “Not so loud.” A smile crept onto the wizard’s face. “Only the oldest and most powerful nobility know this as fact, though rumor has always been rampant.”
Tallen’s mind raced down a dozen corridors. “How?”
“A tale for another time,” Tomas said, gesturing toward the street where Gwelan scrutinized the passersby.
Letting his curiosity go, Tallen followed them. Maddi and the others stayed close. “Do we go to the guard to report the Lord Doctor a murderer and criminal?” He noticed Tomas’ frown.
“I’m afraid not.” The paladin looked over his shoulder. “Marten already has the guard looking for you. ‘A rogue wizard’ who destroyed his office, he claims.” He huffed at Dorias. “Seems you’re not the only one anymore.”
A stab of anger and fear ripped at Tallen’s heart. “But can’t a paladin vouch for the truth?”
Dorias wagged a finger. “A banished paladin, Tallen, do not forget. They would be just as quick to arrest Tomas for being in Daynon as you for destroying that building.”
Tallen clenched his fists. “I did not destroy a building!”
Patting him on the shoulder, Dorias led him along behind Tomas. “Be that as it may, my friend, rumor trumps the truth once it is in play, especially exciting rumor.” He waved toward the riverboat wharves. “Our plan was to be off westward. We will just gear up and be gone sooner. I already checked the docks. In two hours we can be headed upriver to Gavanor.” He nodded at Maddi and gave a soft smile to Ami and Tanya. “All of us.”
The mayors of the Free Cities are really mayors in little more than name. In Dern, Novon and Yames they are appointed by a city council made up of local merchants and landowners. In Kerrigier, the mayoralty is ceremonial and appointed by the Commodore. In Kirath, the position is inherited through House Sokonda, a Human family that has ruled there since before the Return. It seems they have compensated for the racial diversity of Kirath by keeping their line of succession extremely pure. Some say too pure. – “History of Gannon, Appendix C” by Elyn Bravano
Jaerd sighed with relief once they began to pass between the aged wooden houses of Kirath. Their plank shingle roofs swept upward in a cheery arc, though their condition indicated years of lax maintenance. Very few stood more than two stories. Still, he noticed the smiles on the faces of the other Highspur survivors and grinned in agreement. Any civilization is a warm welcome.
A few natives peered at them. Jaerd noticed a family of thin dwarves working together to stack fresh wood, the toddler shorter than the split log he carried. A serene elf watched them from a chair on his front porch, a pipe lit and his feet upon a stool. Most of the remaining townspeople were human, gaunt eyes following them down the street. They gave a particular stare to Khalem Shadar as he rode past.
“Can we find an inn?” Dawne moaned.
Boris shook his head as Balthar pranced through the snow and mud street. Very little traffic had moved on it since the last dusting of weather. “Not yet.” He pointed at the largest of the keeps, this one surrounded by several large granaries. “We must warn the mayor about what comes to destroy his people first.”
The houses grew taller and clustered closer together as they neared the city center, yet they still kept the swooping, gabled roofs. Jaerd noticed dilapidated wood and the lack of fresh paint on many. Dirty children played in the streets with a couple of yapping dogs, while a cacophony of harsh laughter rang out from a leaning tavern. Half a dozen ragged beggars sat along a single block, their cups as empty as their eyes.
Boris frowned. “Kirath has seen better days.”
Jaerd looked to Dawne, who huddled inside her heavy cloak. “You joined us in Kirath. Were things this rough?”
She shook her head. “I never spent any time here. I joined General Vahn and his men in Novon, when I chose not to go to the Bardic College.”
Pointing at his sister, Jaerd forced his voice to approximate his father whenever he had gotten into trouble years ago. “Which is where you are headed, young lady, as soon as I can get you there.” At signs of her protest, he lifted a strict finger. “It’s either that, or back to the Gryphon where Glynn can watch over you. I’ll not see another of my siblings caught in the path of the Fires.”
Dawne remained silent and sank further into the hood of her cloak.
The somber mood of Kirath seemed to infect everyone as they rode to the mayor’s keep. The ramshackle structure loomed over the city, guarding a row of granaries. A wall encircled the entire compound, protected by a half dozen stone towers. Jaerd noticed men marching in and out of them, the glint of steel flashing with their movement.
The gate loomed over the rest of the city, stone speckled with lichen. Despite the poor state of the town, gold capped the pointed roofs of the gate towers, and richly embroidered tapestries hung from the battlements. The gate guards wore burnished steel with silver flares – their tabards silver-stitched gray silk.
Jaerd set his jaw. “Seems like some do alright here.”
“Hail, Captain of the Gate!” Boris called, shifting his somewhat tattered blue cloak. “We come from Highspur with dire news. Your mayor must prepare to evacuate the people. An orc host closes upon your doorstep.”
Nervous murmurs ran through the gray-clad guards nearby. An old man hobbling through the street paused, and then shuffled off in a different direction with quite a bit more speed.
Magus Britt scratched his gray goatee. “Boris...perhaps this is not the place to announce our news so openly.”
The earl glared at the gate where a polished officer with gold-trimmed armor trotted down from the battlement. “I want these people afraid.” He stepped Balthar toward the officer, who carried a scowl on his face and a rushed discord to his uniform. “Captain, I am the Earl Boris Mourne, General of the Royal Guard of Gannon. My companions are each lords of their own realm, some higher of rank than I.” He pushed his words over the soldier before the man could utter a sound. “We come from Highspur and must speak with the mayor. The mighty fortress has fallen.”
Again, the guards murmured. One ran toward the next tower, while an older soldier dropped his spear and dashed into the city.
The captain shouted over the rumble. “Here now, get in order you maggots!”
“You heard the captain,” a thick sergeant barked. “Shut yer traps!”
The gold-trimmed officer then turned on Earl Boris. “And you, sir, if a lord you truly be, why do you go spouting nonsense to get my soldiers in a huff? I’ll be chasing down rumors in taverns for days now.”
Jaerd smiled at the fear on the captain’s face when Boris let Balthar loose. The big stallion almost bumped his chest against the officer.
“I am the Earl of Mourne, and I will have an audience with the mayor.” He reined Balthar back, but only half a step. “Every life in this city is at stake.”
A wrinkle of uncertainty warped the captain’s brow. “They aren’t my concern. Lord Kodi Sokonda is my concern…him and his grain.”
The granite stare that Boris hurled in the captain’s direction unsettled even Jaerd. Magus Britt looked ready to blast fire
on the man. Brawny paced back and forth behind Jaerd, a snarl gathering low in his throat.
The captain gulped, his lips moving slightly. His scratched his chin before he nodded. “I will escort you to Mayor Kodi’s mansion.” He looked to a nearby guard. “Inform his Honor we are coming immediately!” The guard dashed away, clinging to his helmet in haste. The captain regained some of his composure before turning to Boris. “Come, my Lord Earl.”
Bowing his head with grace, Boris followed the captain through the gate. Jaerd and the other companions followed along behind.
“They say the mayor’s parents were cousins,” Khalem Shadar whispered from his horse. “And his father’s parents were brother and sister.”
Jaerd looked at Dawne and both wrinkled their noses in disgust. “Thank the Waters we weren’t born up here.”
Tilli, whose silence had haunted them across the Wastes, cleared her throat. “It’s only in that one family. Dwarves from here often intermingle with those of us from the Rock and the surrounding vales.” She examined a couple of the shorter guards. “It is also said that Dwarves, Humans, and Elves intermarry here in Kirath more than anywhere in the world.”
Turning to look at them with his one violet eye, Gael wrinkled one lip in distaste. “They do marry, but children from such unions are exceedingly rare.”
“But it has happened.” Tilli shifted to watch the guards along the wall. “A cousin of mine had a human grandfather. He died long ago, but she still lives near here.”
Trying not to look too closely at Tilli, Jaerd realized he instead examined all the guards, including the captain who led them. Is that ear slightly pointed? Is he a little too thick and short? I wonder what Tilli’s cousin looks like…
A jolt interrupted his thoughts as their party stopped in front of the wide steps leading up to the door of the mayor’s home. It looks more a keep than a mansion. He dismounted along with the others, an unbidden smile creeping onto his face when he heard Dawne groan as she hit the ground. Brawny nudged his hand with a hard, shaggy forehead. The Kirathi captain turned back toward his gate, leaving them with the two men on either side of the entrance.