Darkness Rising

by James E. Wisher

  Spears clattered to the ground and the guards fled back down the path. How had they even made it through training? Damien didn’t know what sort of training the regular army required of its cadets, but if those two were representative they needed to improve their standards.

  “Would you have killed them if they didn’t run?” Lane asked.

  “Of course not. They were only doing what they believed necessary to protect their families. Still, if they’d had the courage to run a spear through the mayor’s guts when he came out this door some morning it would have saved a lot of people a great deal of trouble. I guess that’s why the crown keeps people like me around.”

  Damien yanked the heavy iron door handle. It was barred from the inside. A golden blade made short work of that. The bar clattered to the floor and the doors swung open.

  Inside waited a grand foyer. Paintings, all of them erotic and explicit, decorated the walls and a pair of nude statues stood beside a sweeping staircase leading to the second floor. No guards waited inside the door. Either the mayor trusted the two outside combined with the bar to ensure his privacy or the guards were stationed elsewhere.

  Damien glanced at Lane who was gaping at the artwork. “If you were a pig with grotesque appetites where would you be late in the afternoon?”

  At the same moment they both said, “Bedroom.”

  Damien didn’t know the layout of the place, but he figured the bedroom would be above. They went upstairs. The halls were lined with red carpet and more paintings like the ones below decorated the walls. If anything the ones on the second floor were more explicit and violent than the ones downstairs.

  “I think I’m going to be sick.” Lane stared at a painting of two little girls tied up, naked, getting spanked by masked men.

  “Try not to look at them.”

  At the end of the hall a muffled thump sounded above them followed by a soft sob. Damien pointed at the ceiling and a cutting beam shot out. He sliced a disk out of the ceiling and let it fall to the floor. Staring down at them, his mouth partway open, was a fat, naked man with a scruff of gray hair around the base of his skull. He held a small, thin knife in his hand

  Damien and Lane flew up into a bedroom-cum-torture chamber. One girl, she looked about Karrie’s age, was tied to some sort of restraining device, her back covered in fresh welts, Damien guessed from the cat o’ nine tails on the floor beside her. A second girl, younger yet, lay bound on the bed. She bled from three shallow cuts on her bare stomach.

  “Guards!” the naked man bellowed.

  The door burst open and four men with drawn swords rushed through. Fifty golden lances pierced the guards from every conceivable direction. Lane went to the bleeding girl and tore strips out of the bedding to make bandages.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” the fat man asked. “Do you know who I am?”

  “You are a dead man,” Damien said. “The only question I have is: are you the Lord Mayor?”

  “I am.” The fat man drew himself up to his less-than-impressive height. “Baron Kannon is my cousin and when he hears of this outrage he’ll have your head.”

  “I’ve already informed him of your removal and advised him to find a replacement who’s less corrupt.”

  The mayor lunged at Damien, striking him with the little knife. The blade bent in half when it struck Damien’s shield. The mayor whimpered and held up the ruined weapon. “Please. I have gold, jewels. Please, take anything, everything, just let me go.”

  A golden band formed around the mayor’s neck and Damien squeezed, choking off his pleas. Damien drew power, maybe a little too much power, and blasted the wall. It exploded out, reduced to little more than splinters. Damien hurled the mayor out the hole with way more force than necessary. His body exploded when it hit the ground.

  Damien turned away from the hole and found Lane had bound the girl’s wounds and dressed her in a thin shift. “Is she okay?”

  “Physically she’ll be fine. The cuts weren’t deep.” Lane stroked the trembling girl’s hair. “Mentally I have no idea.”

  Damien went over to the second girl and cut her down. She latched on to him and cried. Damien held her and looked over her head for something he could dress her in. He spotted a dirty shift lying discarded in the corner. A tendril of soul force brought it to him and he got enough space between him and the girl to slip it over her head.

  “Is he dead?” the girl asked.

  “Yes. You’re safe now.”

  “I want to see.”

  Damien winced when he thought of the mess he’d made out of the mayor. “It isn’t pretty.”

  “Nothing about him was pretty. I want to see.”

  Damien guided her over to the hole in the wall. The girl stared for a long minute then spit on him. Damien couldn’t help smiling. She had spirit. “Are there any others?”

  “I’ll show you.”

  In the next room three more girls, all of an age with the first two, sat huddled in an iron cage. None of them wore more than a stained shift. The girl spoke to them while Damien opened the cage. Once they had all the girls free he and Lane took them home. Long after dark they returned to the inn.

  He walked with Lane to her room. They paused outside. “I never imagined it would have been that bad,” Lane said.

  “Me neither, but you know, this might be the best day I’ve had in my short career. I don’t think I’ve ever done anything as satisfying as helping those girls. I hope they’re okay.”

  “I think they will be, thanks to you.” She kissed him. “Good night.”

  Damien touched his lips and stared at the closed door. What was that about?

  Chapter 49

  Karrie stalked towards the royal quarters. Servants hastened to move out of her way. Damien had been gone for almost two months and she’d considered and rejected half a dozen plans to convince him to agree to marry her. The problem she kept running into was none of them would work if he didn’t fall in love with her and Damien had made it clear that while he did like her that was as far as it went.

  Daddy should be done with court by now and back in their rooms for his noon meal. Her only hope was to convince him to force Damien to marry her. She knew he thought Damien would be a good match for her so it shouldn’t be too hard to convince him.

  Karrie pushed the door open and found her father seated at the dining room table, a plate of pasta in white sauce in front of him. He smiled when she entered.

  “Hello, sweetheart. Will you join me?”

  She’d get fat if she ate like her father, but she did sit beside him. “I need to talk to you.”

  “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

  She couldn’t think of any way to say it other than to just say it. “I want you to order Damien to marry me.”

  He sucked in a breath along with his sip of wine. When the coughing subsided he asked, “What?”

  “I know you think he’d be a good match for me. I spoke to him about it before he left on his mission, but he didn’t seem interested. You could order him to do it, for the good of the kingdom.”

  “I don’t think you’ve thought this through, Karrie. I have considerable power, but I can’t command men’s hearts. I think too much of Damien to force him into something like this, not to mention commanding someone to marry against their will is the sort of thing that could lead to a conclave.”

  Karrie shook her head. “I hardly think the generals and high sorcerers care enough about the fate of one man to consider removing you from the throne.”

  “No.” Her father ran his hand through his hair. “But it is the sort of capricious use of power that they watch for. If I do it once I might do it again, for something bigger. Since our ancestors went from being imperial governors of a colony to kings of an independent country we’ve had a responsibility to rule for the good of all the people and not use the powers we’ve been given irresponsibly. The conclave system was set up to prevent any king from becoming a tyrant.”

  Karrie si
ghed. She’d learned all that from her tutors. “What’s the point of being king if you can’t do what you want?”

  He smiled. “The point is to be a good steward and see that you leave the kingdom stronger, safer, and happier than your predecessor. Maybe you should forget about Damien and find another boy.”

  Karrie ground her teeth. She didn’t want another boy, she wanted Damien. If her father couldn’t help her maybe her mother could. She kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Daddy. Do you know where Mom is?”

  “In her sewing room, I think. Oh, I forgot to tell you. I spoke to the archmage this morning. Damien should be home today, any time now in fact.”

  She brightened. If Damien was home she could start working on him again. She forgot about talking to her mother and jogged out to watch the front gate.

  Karrie found an unused guest bedroom overlooking the courtyard, dragged a chair beside the window and settled in to watch. She had a bit of good luck. Less than an hour after she sat down a black horse flew over the wall and landed in the courtyard. Damien sat in the front saddle and Lane sat behind him, her arms around his chest in a way Karrie didn’t like at all.

  Damien swung down and reached back to help Lane dismount. They walked toward the castle together. Damien put his hand on her back in a far-too-familiar way. Daddy never should have sent him on a mission with Lane. The woman was too pretty and even if she didn’t like sorcerers in general she seemed to like Damien well enough.

  Karrie’s lip curled into a snarl and she slammed her fist on the arm of her chair. If Lane had her hooks in him, how could Karrie dig them out? Mom would know. She rushed back to their quarters. Daddy had finished his meal and returned to his duties. Karrie hurried to the back of the suite and into her mother’s sewing room.

  Her mother sat in the sun, a delicate bit of needlework in her lap. “Karrie?”

  “Damien’s back. I think he’s fallen for Lane Thorn. They looked way too friendly walking together.”

  “Hmm. That’s a surprise. Everyone knows Lane hates sorcerers. Well, Damien is a handsome boy, so I can see where she might make an exception.”

  “Mom!”

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I suppose you’re planning to go to war with her?”

  “I’m not going to let Lane have Damien. He’s mine. What do we do?”

  “You need to make him think he’s going to lose you. Jealousy can be a powerful motivator for men. It’s how I convinced your father.”

  “I’m not sure Damien would feel jealous if I went with someone else.”

  “It would have to be the right person. I made some quiet inquiries at The Tower. There are two people that might have the desired effect on Damien. His best friend John Kord and Sigurd Iceborn whom he fought a duel with his first day.”

  “Sig’s an ass, but John is handsome enough. It might not be so bad spending time with him.”

  “Good choice. Nothing like seeing your best friend getting the attention of a girl you thought was interested in you. John is stationed with his father in the north. Perhaps we could arrange for him to come south. We could say you need a personal healer. That would give you a perfect excuse to spend time with him.”

  Karrie rubbed her hands together. She’d make Damien so jealous his head would spin. “How soon can he arrive?”

  Chapter 50

  Damien sat in a conjured chair outside the archmage’s office while Lane gave her report. He suspected they’d have a good deal more than business to talk about so he made his seat more comfortable than usual.

  It was just as well his master’s office was so far off the beaten path; it saved him many odd looks as he lounged in an overstuffed chair in the middle of the hall. Pleased as he was at having solved the border issue without having to kill any of the barons, Damien’s mission had raised as many questions as it answered. The office door opened and Lane came out, her eyes and nose red.

  “Did you have a good talk?” Damien stood up and absorbed his construct.

  “Very good.” Lane hugged him and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For showing me what a brat, and worse, hypocrite, I’d been. I judged sorcerers for their power at the same time I hated being judged for my lack of power. Well, for now on I judge people as people, no more no less.”

  “I’m glad I could help. I’m sure it’ll make you an even better diplomat.”

  “More than that, it’ll make me a better person. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

  “I’d like that.” Damien smiled as she walked down the hall. When Lane had gone he rapped on the open door and stuck his head in. The archmage was wiping her eyes with a handkerchief. “Master?”

  “Come in. Close the door.”

  Damien did as she said, taking his place in front of her desk, hands clasped behind his back. He felt her sound barrier fall into place.

  “For heaven’s sake, Damien, sit down. You don’t need to stand like a man waiting for news of his execution every time you report in. Lane tells me you did good work, though she was a little vague on the details of what happened in the badlands.”

  Damien settled into an empty chair, still uncomfortable sitting in the presence of his superior. “I wasn’t certain how much I should tell her. I figured I’d let you fill her in on any details she might need.”

  “Good decision. Why don’t you just start at the beginning.”

  Damien did as she said. It took a good half an hour to complete his report and she never stopped him once. When he reached their arrival at the royal castle Damien said, “That’s what happened. Mikhail Santen escaped and I’m sure many bandits still inhabit the fortress, but the families are safe, for the moment anyway.”

  The archmage shook her head. “Connor Blackman, who would have thought. We knew that boy was trouble, but to become a warlock and threaten the kingdom… I wouldn’t have believed it. We need to find him, and Mikhail too.”

  “Yes, Master. The kingdom is a big place. Where should we start looking?”

  “The Tower. Some of Connor’s yearmates might have some insight into his habits. He must be in the wild lands. We could hardly miss a crimson-eyed warlock wandering around civilization.”

  “Judging from Mikhail’s armor the Cult of the Horned One is involved somehow. I wonder if Connor summoned the demon I killed and opened the hell gate Jen found.”

  “I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised.” The archmage steepled her fingers, tapping the index fingers together as she thought. “In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if he either took over the old cult or created a new one from scratch. On a more straight-forward note, good work dealing with the mayor of Allentown. I don’t know how he operated without our notice for so long. I need to speak to Banlon about sending more sorcerers to patrol the little southern towns.”

  “Banlon?” Damien didn’t recognize the name.

  “Sorry, High Sorcerer Banlon, Master of the South. He’s too interested in his research and it takes away from his more mundane duties. I never figured out why he stood for High Sorcerer at the last gathering.”

  Damien had no interest in politics. “What should I tell the king? I’m sure he’ll want me to have dinner with him now that I’m back.”

  “I’ll give him a full report, but if he asks hold nothing back. We have no secrets from the king.” The archmage groaned to her feet and Damien leapt up to join her. “I knew I was right to make you my agent. This mission just solidifies it. On a personal note, I don’t know what happened between you and Lane, but you brought home a different person. Wherever you buried her anger I’m glad to see it gone. For that gift I thank you, not as your master, but as a mother glad to see her daughter happy.”

  “She’s a wonderful woman and I’m glad I got to spend some time with her. Is there anything else, Master?”

  “No, take a few days, rest, relax. When you’re ready come see me. I’m sure I’ll have no shortage of missions for you.”

  Chapter 51

  Mikhail hurt
everywhere, but nowhere so much as his shoulder. His shoulder where an arm should have hung. Instead, his arm lay on the ground back in the badlands. All thanks to that puny worm. The boy had ruined everything. The horse under him shuddered. The beast had almost reached its limit. The animals could only bear the demonic energy so long before it burned them out. He’d have to land soon or risk falling to the mountains below.

  Not that it mattered. Below him the entrance to his master’s base was only half a mile away. The stupid animal could last that far anyway. A minute later Mikhail spotted the shadowed cave mouth. He urged the horse down.

  It landed in a patch of snow, shuddered again, and collapsed. Mikhail held out his hand and absorbed the demonic energy he’d used to transform his mount. When the last of the power drained away from the horse, all that remained was a rotted corpse. He’d need a new mount. Mikhail rotated his damaged shoulder. He’d need a new arm as well, assuming the master didn’t kill him.

  Mikhail shook his head. Master Blackman wouldn’t dispose of him so lightly. He was the master’s strong right hand, well strong left hand anyway.

  The tunnel had no lights burning anywhere, but to Mikhail’s demon eyes the path was clear. He followed the rough passage for fifty paces, ignoring several side passages. With each step the master’s power grew stronger. The warlock was probably brooding in his library again. He should get out more. It wasn’t healthy to sit in the dark and think too much.

  Mikhail barged into the library. The master sat on his black chair at the far end, turning his amulet over and over. Mikhail walked past the shelves and their demonic artifacts. The creepy things never did fascinate him like they did Morana.

  He went down on one knee in front of the warlock. “Master.”