by AS Hamilton
Brynn wrinkled his nose. They were at a stalemate. As long as Gareth remained hidden, there was no chance to aim another bolt. He sprang to the top of a workbench with graceful ease and stalked silently along its length searching the floors with a quick, assessing gaze. As he stepped onto the next table he heard a door banging in the back corner of the room. Brynn raced off in pursuit.
Sariah retrieved the bolt, tugging it from the wood with a grunt. She took a moment to examine it. They were short, not even half the length of her forearm, and made of single piece of steel that ended in a sharp point. Her guess was that they were made from a mould. This explained why Brynn had gone to the effort of recovering as many as he could from that first encounter.
She picked up their coin as well. She did not know the exact reason why Brynn had changed his mind about trusting the smith to accept the bribe and remain silent, but now that he was gone, he clearly would not 'earn' the coin Brynn had given him. She brightened as Kaydyr spotted the small safe installed under the accounting desk where she had retrieved their money. A few moments with a lock pick and the safe was open. Sariah was grateful the skill relied more on feel and sound than sight. As she emptied the safe, she reflected on how strange the coins looked. Keldon had introduced them. Before then, elvan had used a barter system.
Sariah left the blacksmith's and started to jog in the direction of the stable where they had put their horses. Kaydyr had taken off so he could arc up and around into a low glide just above her head. It was still disorienting when he did that, leaving her blind for a moment, but they had practiced it often and she did not slow her pace.
Now several streets away from his forge, Gareth slipped silently down a narrow alley, gulping in his breath as quietly as possible. At least, the tradesman estimated, he had a slim chance of getting to a guardhouse.
Having caught his breath, Gareth crept up the alley, pausing at the junctions to check that everything was clear.
So far, so good.
He was only a block from the watch-house and there would be a patrol here somewhere. Just then, to his great relief, he heard the voices of guardsmen he knew. They were at the end of the laneway from the sounds of it, and thank the mighty sages, they were coming towards him! Swiftly, he made his way towards the street. Diamond-bright, blue eyes appeared out of the darkness seconds before the moonlight revealed intense elvan features.
'N-n-no!' Gareth stuttered, lunging past him into the street.
'Cease,' the elvan commanded.
Gareth froze, despite his great desire to move. Fear transformed into hate. Gareth swore in his mind. A bloody mage! An elvan mage!
Guards appeared in the predawn mist. Their unexpected appearance must have startled the mage as Gareth felt his body move. The smith took advantage of the distraction and tried to call out. First, he just gurgled, then he managed a feeble yell. It was enough for the patrol to turn towards him!
Suddenly, Gareth was free of the elvan mage's hold.
Gareth rammed a broad shoulder into the elvan's chest.
The elvan responded by closing a hand about the smith's throat in a suffocating grip and thrusting him back against the wall.
By the great sages, the bloody rebel was strong!
Gareth's hand had landed on the cold curving metal of a knife handle at the elvan's hip.
Wrenching the knife free, the smith tried to thrust the short blade beneath the elvan's ribs.
With a jolt, Gareth found his wrist enclosed in the elvan's steel grip.
Using his free hand, Gareth tried to pry the elvan's hand off his other wrist. It was obvious to the smith the elvan was not man enough to kill him. The hand about his throat was uncomfortable, but not a killing grip. Due to the physical nature of his work, Gareth was heavily muscled, and it took but a moment to free up his knife hand.
Gareth felt triumph surge through him as he thrust the blade forward.
As he did, the world seemed to come to a complete halt.
Using the momentum of the action of having his hand pried away, the elvan neatly caught the outside of Gareth's knife-bearing wrist, forcing Gareth's arm in and then propelling the blade safely up past the elvan's chest until the blade was buried in Gareth's throat.
The elvan growled softly in frustration.
An instant before his world went dark, Gareth registered that the silver and blue metals of the knife's hilt were woven to form a fierce cat-like creature. The blue gemstone of its eye was replaced by a flash of a gold as the elvan leaned in close and something hanging from his neck swung into view.
He could hear men yelling, commanding the elvan to halt… the guardsmen, Gareth feared, would be too late to help him.
The last thing Gareth saw was steel flashing in the dawning light as the elvan removed the bloody blade and disappeared.
Peers sucked in a lungful of cold, early-morning air. He had woken a half hour ago with the feeling of being closed in. It was not an unusual occurrence, he had been waking like this ever since he had moved to the city. He had thrown on some boots and his cloak, and wandered down to check on his remaining horses in the hope that the fresh air would ease his claustrophobia. After he fed each of them a carrot and delivered some friendly pats, he strolled over to the corral fence and looked up into the paling night sky. Everything seemed peaceful. Dawn was not too far off, but a few stars were still out. Last night they had been magnificent, each one radiant in the inky curtain of sky.
A shout of alarm in the distance caused him to tense up. Peers moved towards the main street. It was silent now. He waited, listening intently. Something was happening. He immediately thought of the two rebels he had met yesterday.
Just then, another shout, this one closer. The sound of a soft grunt behind him made Peers jump. He turned to see the elvan male he had met the day before appear, having dropped off a three-storey roof! The elvan now sprinted towards him like a surreal vision.
'Friend,' Peers whispered, stepping into the street and gesturing for the elvan to follow him. 'Here. I take you, yes.'
The elvan slowed and wordlessly followed Peers into the small stable he used to conduct his business during the day.
Brynn peered through the cracks in the stable wall while trying to catch his breath. He soon saw three of the six guards rush past. Three must have stayed behind to aid Gareth, which meant he still lived. He had never intended to kill the smith, things had just so swiftly spun free of his control...
Curse and damn the smith for his greed! What had made him think that such a risk was acceptable? After his success getting Sarre and the harem out the gate, Brynn had been feeling confident. Over-confident, it turned out. They should have approached the smith a different way. They should have… Brynn shook off the anger, banishing the self-recriminations from his mind.
The guards still had to find a healer before they could determine anything for certain. That left time to get out of the city. Once they were a safe distance away, he could alter Gareth's memories.
Brynn turned to Peers and managed a smile despite his frustrated mood. 'Fate is kind to me, for she is constantly placing allies in my path.'
Peers grinned himself. 'Strangest thing, yes. I am sleeping and then up I wake and feel closed in, yes. Have need to see the horses, yes. So here I come, and then you are there needing help, and here I am, yes. Your path in life is truly blessed, friend, for I know none as lucky as you, yes.'
'Many say that Fate is fond of me,' Brynn replied as he glanced back out at the street, 'and your friendship confirms it. Can you get me close to the southern gate without too much notice?'
Peers nodded. 'Let us hope your fortune continues. With me. Come. Yes.'
Brynn emerged from the shadows where Sariah was waiting, his slight breathlessness giving him away. He levered himself up onto Sershja. 'Some guards saw me, but they think I am a thief who attacked a smith, they will not do a city-wide search.'
'Yet.'
'Yet,' Brynn agreed. 'We must move swiftly.'
'Do they connect us to the missing harem?'
'I do not believe so.'
Sariah scoffed. 'Let us hope that is true.'
'Come, we need to retrieve the gear from the camp outside the city, and then... Toormeena has set me a task.'
'What kind of task?'
Brynn hooked the leather holding the amber gemstone about his neck and lifted it from beneath his tunic. 'She used this like a co-toor, it leads to a place not far from here. In the Khira, or, more precisely, just before it.'
'The Khira!' the warrior exclaimed, sounding dismayed.
'You do not like the desert?'
'I do not like the rolling hills leading up to it. They will slow us down and exhaust the horses.'
'Well, you could stay here, but I would not recommend it,' he said, checking the street for new arrivals. He could hear voices not far off.
'No,' Sariah agreed. 'So let us be gone.'
Day 7 – Just Before Dawn
Denas
Malithorn looked out over the city of Denas. The sky was lightening to that soft misty grey just before the purple and red reached out over the horizon. He could have taken a sleeping draught, but he was not inclined to trust his sleep to drugs. He was not so desperate for the rest.
Delnaren was becoming a problem. Thane Mereten was now calling himself King. Mereten's second, Graiten, reported that Mereten believed Malithorn had lost touch with the needs of Delnaren and was no longer fit to rule. Instead of killing Mereten's lover, Malithorn decided he would have Mereten himself removed and place Graiten in charge. At least, Delnaren was conquered. Andarea may be occupied, but until the rebellion was crushed, Malithorn did not consider it a victory.
These thoughts lead to the latest effort to place spies within the rebel organisation. It was a project he had assigned, in part, to Nisari, as he wanted his spies trained to use talent to increase the quality of the intelligence they gathered. Once, the rebels trusted only other elvan, now they had humans in their ranks, making it easier to infiltrate their confederacy.
'Send Colnba,' he ordered the servant waiting just inside the door.
A few seconds passed, and Malithorn heard the servant return having sent the message on to another. The servants knew that to leave Malithorn unattended for even just a few minutes could be a fatal lapse in their service. It was a good quarter hour until the mage came, though.
'Have you initiated my request?'
'Yes, Lord Abbarane,' Colnba replied without any sign of aggravation.
Malithorn was impressed. He'd be livid if he'd been woken up at this hour to answer questions that could have waited until after the sun rose.
'Our resources have been briefed and are now undergoing preparations to disperse. Nisari is identifying appropriate merchants and prison locations in which to place the resources. She is also seeding those known to be sympathetic to the rebel cause with information that will lead the rebels to extract our resources under the belief they are genuine slaves or prisoners.'
'That will be all then.'
'As you wish.'
Malithorn turned, about to rebuke the mage for not using his title, but Colnba was gone. The Great Lord huffed. He could never prove it, but there were times he was certain Colnba was mocking him. The mage always denied it, saying he was tired from his excursions on the planes. Malithorn shrugged, whether it was true or not, it would not stay his hand from exercising its grip on those things the mage cared enough about to remain loyal, or at least to be more obedient.
Looking down, Malithorn realised he was clutching his father's locket. It had once belonged to his mother, but that was not what gave it value. In it, Keldon said, was the key to controlling Colnba and Nisari. 'You cannot know what it is, for they can find thoughts,' his father had said.
'Isn't it a spirit?'
Keldon had gripped Malithorn's shoulders. 'School yourself, my son. Do not let rumour or curiosity influence you. All you need know is that it is control. You've not had enough experience of mages yet to realise how careful you must be. Never, never, open it unless they abandon their loyalty. For if they discover its value, they will dedicate themselves to retrieving it.'
The intensity in his father's eyes had been enough to convince Malithorn of the validity of his words, yet he had one more question; 'Then what?'
'What do you do if the mages betray you?'
Malithorn had nodded.
'Be utterly certain there's no other course, and then, only then, open it. It will answer all else.'
Liacoren had been training him since he was a boy to control and shield his thoughts. She also erected barriers to protect his mind. Malithorn did not doubt Liacoren's ability or devotion, but he knew she was not a direct match for Colnba, so he practiced the memory-control exercises that linked the locket to his mother, not its contents
It had become a source of comfort. Any time he felt uncertain or apprehensive, especially after his father succumbed to his illness, he found the locket was a source of strength. He was certain that the day when he needed to open the locket was soon approaching, but he couldn't afford to dispense with the elvan mages in Abbarane service until he had those very mages neutralise their rebel counterparts. Then he could enact his plans to eliminate all elvan mages and, thus, secure his throne.
Day 7 – Just Before Dawn
Sal-Cirus
Brynn and Sariah arrived at the eastern gate, which was a quarter of the size of the main ones; just big enough to allow four horses walking abreast through. Brynn called a greeting to the lone guard emerging from the gatehouse, rubbing sleep from his eyes. 'Leaving a bit early aren't yer?' he complained grouchily.
Sariah involuntarily tensed. 'That's the guard that was at the main gate last evening. He recognised that at least one of the soldiers was a woman and tried to bring it to the attention of the Captain of the Gate,' she sent to Brynn.
'I know. I recognised his spirit. Calm, Sariah, he will not recognise you, he saw you as a man because I laid an illusion over you rather than trying to influence him. Let me handle this.'
'I'm very sorry for disturbing you, master guardsman,' Brynn said in answer to the guard's complaint, putting a note of desperation in his tone. At the same time, he used his empath talent so the guard sympathised with him. He had just been disciplined, and in the soldier's mind, the punishment was unjustified. He knew he had seen a woman the night before and when the news came out that it was actually the harem escaping, he was sure he would be vindicated. Yet here he was, still serving the pre-dawn shift on a minor gate.
'I'm anxious to get back to my master. I was delayed yesterday purchasing this slave for Thane Nelson,' Brynn explained, gesturing towards Sariah.
'Had a bit of her yerself?' the soldier sniggered, casting a glance at the worn cloak the female slave wore. His eyes moved to her hair, which looked like a smouldering fire, and the red-gold eyes set in the coldly, beautiful face. She wasn't in for a good time. The pretty ones always suffered the most. And this one had a stubborn streak in her, she'd make things hard for herself.
'Not this one,' Brynn asserted. 'She is for Thane Nelson himself. He will be pleased with her, I think. But I fear I'm going to be whipped regardless, as it took so long to negotiate the price Thane Nelson wanted to pay, I missed leaving before the gates closed last night. All for the sake of a few coins that I know he can spare.' He met the soldier's eyes. 'Surely allowing us to leave a few minutes early will harm no one. Who would know?'
The soldier looked back to the human. The tattoo of a slave was branded just under his jaw. He'd flinched when they pushed the hot iron into his skin. No one bothered to brand elvan; they were all slaves. Humans were a different matter.
The soldier hesitated. 'I really should make yer wait 'til after sunrise. I just got disciplined meself, and only because the Captain let himself be talked out of following his better sense.'
'Really? What happened?' Brynn reinforced a feeling of mutual sympathy using his talent.
'Well, did
you hear about the harem that escaped last eve?'
Brynn nodded and, leaning forward, asked, 'Were you there?'
'Damn right I was there. I even spotted them, but me captain wouldn't listen. Said I was seeing things 'cause I'd had a few ales.'
'If you saw them and warned him, why then were you disciplined?' Brynn asked with a frown of confusion.
''Cause he didn't want to admit he was wrong or that he'd been duped by rebels. Now, I'm stuck doing the pre-dawn shift and me privileges've been suspended.'
Brynn shook his head. 'That just makes me so…' He made a sound of frustration. 'It's bad enough they forget in their high positions what it's like for us. Some of 'em have no notion of what hard work's like and how much those privileges we earn ease things.'
The soldier grunted in agreement.
'Well, I'm sorry to have roused you. I'll wait, I don't want to cause you more trouble. Although, I have to admit, I ain't looking forward to facing my own master's wrath.'
The guard felt his conscience tug at him as he took in the anxiousness in Brynn's eyes. The slave was surely going to be punished and it wasn't even his fault. The delay that stopped him from leaving on time had been caused by the thane's pettiness and greed.
After a moment, he shrugged. 'I don't suppose you have yer papers handy?'
Brynn proffered the set of papers that said he was owned by the Thane Nelson of Haranti. The guard did not bother giving them more than a glance, the moment he saw Thane Nelson's seal he was satisfied. Brynn's guess was that the man could not read.
The guard jerked his head towards the gates. 'Ah, who'd know? Go on,' he said gruffly, as if silently adding: before I change me mind. He returned to the gatehouse to activate the gates.
Sariah looked to Brynn.
He shrugged. 'I used just a little empath, nothing more,' he said in answer to the expression that looked like she was trying to figure out if he was using talent. 'The decision was entirely his. Some people are just nice for no other reason than they can be.'