The Fourth Age Shadow Wars: Assassins (The Fourth Age: Shadow Wars Book 1)

by David Pauly

  'Certainly, Lord Daerahil,' said Paladir. 'But you are more than welcome to spend the day here and leave tomorrow.'

  Smiling, Daerahil said, 'Thank you indeed, Lord, for your keep is most refreshing, and I owe much to your Seeing Hound, but I shall depart. When challenged in this way, whether on the field of battle or in the council chambers, my nature compels me to respond aggressively. I cannot hide or hold back, no more than Sammie held back when she sighted the wasp.'

  Paladir grinned. 'As you know, Sammie will soon bear her litter. Let me send you a brace when the pups are old enough as some measure of recompense for your inconvenience and as a gesture of our new friendship.'

  'I thank you,' Daerahil replied. 'Heretofore I have been indifferent to the merits of dogs, but now I have learned something new. If it is not a great hardship, then a brace of these finest of coursing hounds would be greatly appreciated.'

  The two men descended the stairs and made their way to the stables. There Daerahil was greeted by Hardacil, who had a dark expression on his face.

  'My Lord Daerahil, all the saddles and other tack have been cut. We cannot leave until they are repaired, unless you wish to ride Elf fashion.'

  'Whoever wanted me here is certainly determined to keep me here,' Daerahil stated in a tone of frustration mixed with grudging admiration.

  'Again it seems I must apologize,' said Paladir, whose countenance had grown even darker than Hardacil's. 'How long does the chief groom say the repairs will take?'

  Hardacil replied, 'Lord, he believes we can leave by late afternoon, which would allow us to descend the hill and make it to the first army encampment halfway to the bridge before nightfall.'

  'This becomes more and more curious,' Daerahil said. 'The timing of this sequence of events is exquisite. There was no way I could have been permitted to be in the City today, but I am apparently allowed to return tomorrow. Well, let us take our leisure until we are ready. With your permission, Lord Paladir, I will become your guest for a while longer.'

  'No, Lord, you are quite welcome. I will send my wine steward to you along with my chief cook; you should at least have a proper meal before you depart,' said Paladir. 'Now I must see to this additional breach of security.'

  Daerahil nodded. 'That reminds me. I had meant to mention an earlier occurrence—another lapse of security.'

  Paladir evinced astonishment when Daerahil informed him of the mysterious warning he had received in the baths.

  'I shall have the keep and all in the surrounding area questioned, Lord Daerahil,' he said. 'It would seem that things are less secure than I had ever imagined possible.'

  'The conspiracy must indeed be larger than any of us could have dreamed,' Daerahil agreed. 'Well, there is nothing to be done about it now. I shall remain in your demesne, drink your wine, eat your afternoon meal with you, and depart when the horses are ready. No doubt my brother will be most pleased, for I shall surely miss the Council meeting today, and he has been most unhappy of late with my words there. He is a good man, a patriot of Eldora, but too hidebound and cautious when it comes to military and political matters. Too willing to follow the lead of that vile serpent, Mergin, who pours his poisoned words into my father's ear. If only the order of our births had been reversed or my brother never born at all . . .'

  'Lord Daerahil, that is both indiscreet and nearly treasonous to think, much less state aloud,' said Paladir with a shocked expression upon his face.

  'I have been banished twice already, my Lord Paladir, and I am far from Eldora today. But I meant nothing treasonous. I love my brother and am loyal to my father, though I make no secret of my disagreements with their policies. Yet there is treason afoot; if they can get to me this easily, they can also get to Alfrahil. Eldora can scarcely afford to lose both its Princes on the same day. Let us send word by a messenger runner now, so that my father can have some idea as to what has occurred and can set extra guards to watch over my brother.'

  'That is well-spoken, and wise counsel indeed,' said Paladir. 'A messenger shall be sent at once. But I pray you, sir, to compose its contents with more thought and circumspection than was evidenced in the words you just spoke to me, which I shall keep in confidence, knowing as I do that there was no ill-will behind them. Others, however, might be less fair in their assessments, so once again I counsel you, in friendship, to keep a closer guard upon your tongue, my lord, lest your own words be turned against you.'

  'Now you sound like my brother,' said Daerahil, laughing. 'Very well, I know you speak in friendship, my Lord Paladir, and I shall heed your advice as best I am able.'

  CHAPTER SEVEN: CONFRONTATION

  Daerahil spent the night at an army encampment, and soon after waking, a messenger arrived reporting the dire events that had taken place in the city.

  'My brother,' Daerahil broke in impatiently. 'Is he all right?'

  'Yes, Lord. He was wounded, but the healers believe he shall make a complete recovery,' said the messenger.

  'Thank the Gods for that,' said Daerahil fervently. Turning to Hardacil, who had brought the messenger to him, he said, 'Prepare to depart.'

  'Yes, Lord,' he replied.

  Reaching the great bridge over the Aphon, he was not altogether surprised to see a Faris—a mounted company of one hundred Kozaki—waiting to escort him back to the City. Daerahil did not recognize the captain of the Faris, and while Daerahil greeted him warmly, he received only a flinty gaze through squinted eyes in return. The deeply tanned blond rider introduced himself,

  'I am Hugon, Prince Daerahil. I have orders to escort you to the gates of Titania and protect you from harm.' Hugon presented Daerahil with a scroll confirming these orders, signed by Mergin, in the name of the king.

  The sight of that signature, as much as the contents of the order itself, stirred Daerahil's blood. 'Am I under arrest, Captain?'

  'No, Lord,' replied the stoic rider.

  'Why are not men of Eldora here instead of Kozaki?' asked an even angrier Daerahil.

  'I do not know, Lord, except for the fact that we are far better horsemen than the men of Eldora. Let us proceed swiftly.'

  Hugon then cried out in the rich tongue of Kozak, and the Faris turned as one, assuming a flattened wedge, with the archers on the periphery spreading out to over twelve hundred feet along an arc. Daerahil could see that no one could come within bowshot and that his safety was being taken most seriously.

  Riding at a swift canter, nearly a gallop, the Faris quickly traversed the road to the City, where Daerahil saw smoke rising from several different locations. Black oily plumes drifted skyward, pushed eastward by a light breeze. Daerahil was truly shocked. His years in Shardan had accustomed him to such sights, but never had he expected to see the same dreadful display above Eldora's capital.

  Riding by his side, Hardacil murmured, 'Is this just a terrible dream, my lord?'

  'I wish it were.' replied Daerahil. Nothing the messenger had told him the night before had prepared Daerahil for the scope of the tragedy. Hearing that there had been a fire set against his brother, he had assumed a tavern or stable had been set alight. Now it looked as if half the city was wrecked.

  'Why are the fires still burning, Captain?' demanded Daerahil of Hugon.

  'I do not know, lord, but rumor has it that it after the attacks on your brother, several assassins were caught in heavily populated areas of the city. They supposedly set additional fires, wishing to kill as many others as they could before they died.'

  With that, Daerahil remained silent as they approached the Great Gates, where Daerahil was turned over to a Shadow and a company of Citadel guards. The Shadow was Gray Water. 'You will proceed with me to the Citadel, Prince Daerahil. There you will meet Lord Mergin. Do you wish to see my orders?'

  Shaking his head, Daerahil presumed that these men were here to see him safely to the Citadel. Continuing along the main road from the gates to the Citadel, Daerahil knew there had not been this many cavalry within the City since the siege during the Grea
t War. Passing near to the first attack in the Sixteenth District, Daerahil noted the stunned look on the common folk standing alongside the main road, forced to wait until Daerahil passed. As they approached the Escarpment, Daerahil saw that they were turning westward.

  'Why are we not riding to the Great Bridge?' he inquired of Gray Water.

  'The Great Bridge is in ruins,' answered the Shadow. 'They are still pulling up the bodies of the slain. It will be months before the wreckage is cleared and new construction can begin.'

  'The bridge is destroyed?' asked an incredulous Daerahil. 'It has remained intact for over five hundred years. The base timbers were constructed of whole northern oak trees, nearly four feet thick. How was it demolished?'

  'No one knows, lord. Even now the engineering corps is trying to fathom how this happened.'

  Moving to their west, they passed close to the ravine where Alfrahil had nearly perished the day before. A sudden gust of wind blew grayish soot out from the small chasm, and as Daerahil distractedly wiped it away from his cloak, he realized that the tiny flakes had once been a man. The smell of burnt human flesh was unmistakable. Daerahil had smelled it during his campaigns too many times, but to smell it here at home was most horrifying.

  Circling around the Escarpment, they returned to the main road and entered into the Third and Second districts. It was then that Daerahil saw smoke billowing from active fires, no longer the smolder of charred wood and ashes. The scope of the attack on his brother shocked Daerahil as much as the actual destruction wrought in the course of it. Dozens of men working for weeks if not months would have been required to secretly bring in enough oil, wood, and who knew what else to create this one conflagration, not to mention the destruction of the Bridge. Secrecy for one ambush, much less three, should have been impossible. Daerahil's face drained of what little color it had left as he realized that either Mergin had neglected his intelligence duties most shamefully, or he must have known of these attacks in advance. Neither conclusion made sense, as Mergin was most thorough in his security apparatus, and if there was even a hint of his complicity in these attacks, Mergin would right now be enjoying the dubious pleasures of his own torture pits after having had his mind drained by Creon for every bit of information. For the first time on a field of conflict, Daerahil was completely perplexed about what his next move should be.

  Rounding a last turn in the narrow road, Daerahil was greeted by Mergin and another half company of men from the Citadel. Six Shadows attended Mergin as a personal escort. With a cold look upon his face, Mergin greeted Daerahil formally and announced, 'You will be taken before the King shortly. Hardacil and the rest of your personal escort will be detained until after the meeting with your sovereign.'

  'Am I under arrest?' asked Daerahil impatiently. 'Or are all of these measures for my own security? What in the name of all the Gods happened here?'

  'You will hear soon enough, from your father's lips. I am instructed to say no more.' Mergin answered even as he studied Daerahil closely. Bewilderment and fear were visible on the prince's usually haughty face.

  'You say I am not under arrest, yet you refuse to tell me anything of these attacks, or even how my brother fares. You go too far, Mergin.'

  'Well,' thought Mergin, 'he certainly did not plan or launch these attacks. Daerahil simply does not dissemble that well. He might have had an indirect hand in this disaster, perhaps through his money men or his close friends, but I don't believe he was directly involved. More's the pity.'

  But though he acknowledged Daerahil's innocence privately, Mergin intended to use this tragedy to its greatest effect against the prince.

  'My Lord Prince,' he said, 'you are not under arrest at this time, but you must go before the King.'

  Daerahil blanched at the implied threat in Mergin's voice. Did his father intend to put him to the question? Swiftly passing into the Citadel, Daerahil was not terribly surprised that they were not ascending into the royal apartments or adjacent buildings. When he realized where he was being taken, though, he had to credit Mergin for this deception, for who would believe that the King and Crown Prince were ensconced within the drafty and disheveled astrologers' tower? Not seeing any visible guards, Daerahil knew they must be there somewhere and that nearby there must lurk at least a dozen Shadows. While they were not yet as skilled as their teachers, against any lesser foes they were truly lethal.

  Regaining his equilibrium, Daerahil mentally prepared himself for whatever awaited him. Yet instead of being immediately brought before the King, Daerahil was escorted to a room where he was allowed to breakfast properly and attend to his morning ablutions. Prior to closing the door where Daerahil's personal guards stood watch, Mergin said, 'As soon as you are ready, Lord Daerahil, send one of your guards into the hallway, and my men will bring your father the message.'

  Daerahil said, 'I will be ready to see my father in half an hour.'

  Mergin smiled his wintry smile. 'Your brother, Lord, may not yet be ready then. It is for him that we are actually waiting. Otherwise, Prince or no Prince, you would have been brought straight to your father.'

  Cursing, Daerahil strode toward Mergin, his hand upon his sword. But before he had closed even half the distance between them, a darkly cloaked form dropped silently from the ceiling and planted himself between the first minister and the Prince. Daerahil stopped short. He knew there was nothing he or any of his men could do against a Shadow. In theory, of course, as a prince of Eldora, Daerahil had nothing to fear from this or any other Shadow. But it was not a theory he cared to put to the test. His father had erred badly in giving Mergin control of the Shadows. The man had built them into his own private army. Why was it that no one else, not even Alfrahil, saw the danger?

  Fuming, Daerahil addressed the smirking Mergin. 'Presuming you survive my father's wrath for this incredible display of incompetence that nearly killed my brother, someday your time of worth to my father shall be over, and on that day I shall delight in wreaking my vengeance, your magic soldiers notwithstanding.'

  Only by the glitter of his eyes did Mergin reveal his wrath. 'Be that day ever delayed, Lord Prince, for when you come, I shall be waiting. And I will not be alone.'

  About to turn on his heel and leave, Mergin suddenly grabbed his temples, feeling as if a vise were pressing upon the sides of his head. Helpless to speak, he felt Daerahil’s mind increase the pressure for a moment and then release.

  Mergin staggered against the wall, his face contorted in fear and pain. Still unable to speak, he glanced with hate-filled eyes at Daerahil, who had remained motionless.

  'Remember, little man, even with your tame killers by your side, I can still reach you,' said Daerahil. 'Be thankful that I am prohibited from causing you or any member of the Court permanent damage. Now begone from my presence.'

  Mergin glanced at Daerahil's calm countenance, but inwardly he felt the angry tension begin to touch his mind again. With the help of the Shadow, he lurched down the hall, fleeing a confrontation he could not win.

  #

  Nearly two hours passed before Daerahil was summoned to his father's presence. Entering into the meeting room of the astrologers' tower, he found his father there with his personal guard, supplemented by a dozen Shadows. Mergin stood to one side, his face expressionless.

  'Hail and well met,' cried Creon formally.

  'Hail and well met,' replied Daerahil, striding toward his father. He paused three paces away and slowly drew his sword, aware all the while of the Shadows' attention fixed upon him. He did not falter but knelt smoothly and held the sword out to his father, the blade resting on his open palms. 'This sword is ever at the service of the King, along with this unworthy servant. Command me as you will,' said Daerahil.

  Instead of advancing toward Daerahil and taking the sword immediately, then handing it back to him as custom dictated, particularly when it was a Prince of the realm who was on one knee, Creon said, 'Rise, my son, but please hand your sword to my guard captain.'


  Suppressing an angry retort, Daerahil knew that this morning of all mornings, with the attack on his brother and his own mental assault on Mergin, his father might just clap him in chains for any reason or no reason at all. Rising, Daerahil gave his sword to the guard captain and waited for his father to speak.

  'You have heard of the attempt on your brother's life by now?' asked the King rhetorically.

  'Yes, Lord,' said Daerahil, 'and I have seen the unbelievable destruction that the assassins unleashed upon the city. It grieves me most deeply. But where is my brother? Is he unhurt?'

  'He is unscathed but for a few cuts and scrapes, and it is kind of you to ask,' replied Creon coldly.

  'Kind, my Lord? Kind? He is my brother,' replied Daerahil indignantly, his tanned face going a light shade of umber as the temper and shock he had repressed all morning began to get the better of him. 'While he and I disagree on many things, I love him above all others—besides you, of course, Father.'

  For reply, the king approached Daerahil and fixed his unblinking stare upon him, focusing his will upon his son. Only once before, when he was a very young child and played a prank that had damaging consequences, had Daerahil been subjected to what was coming. Daerahil fought to keep the King's mind from his own. Yet despite his maturity and strong mental powers, Daerahil felt his will begin to crumble beneath the King's relentless onslaught. Inexorably he felt his father's mind penetrate his own. The sensation was like hot irons piercing his flesh: his father was not being subtle or gentle. He was probing as he might probe an enemy, with no regard for Daerahil's comfort, much less his dignity, ripping his mental fibers asunder, leaving Daerahil's psyche tortured and quivering. Only with the greatest of effort, requiring a strength of will that surprised him even as his defenses crumbled, was Daerahil able to keep a few thoughts shielded from his father's mind as it searched for the truth. And even then, had his father probed diligently, rather than like a burglar ransacking a room, he would have discovered those hidden thoughts.