Malek shivered in that moment, having a sudden flash of sea blue eyes and a ready smile, a gregarious buck who had loved to laugh and regale Malek with tales of adventure both funny and tragic as they took their ease in each other's arms, the void in Malek's heart with the death of Jacob easing at last, only to wake up one day with Alacabar gazing sadly at him, not even realizing until this very moment that the lover who had brought Malek such happiness for such a brief time was now no more.
It chilled Malek to the quick even to think about it, for they deceived with a truth so potent, it was hardly deception at all.
Gregorian, of course, had been artfully misdirected, though Malek seriously wondered if it had been needed at all. What adventurer, when all was said and done, wasn’t looking out for the next big score? No one expected a quest for Divinity of any sort. It was power and glory and a fat purse of gold that was on the minds and lips of all adventurers that Malek had ever crossed paths with, to varying degrees of good taste and crassness both.
Morlekai just gazed at the Guildmaster, coolly polite smile frozen in place.
Gregorian grinned. "This, good Morlekai, is for you. A formal invitation to come to the Graves manor upon your earliest convenience, to stay and peruse their tomes and take advantage of their hospitality for as long as you like. Their Manor, save for the family's personal quarters, shall be made utterly available to you." He solemnly handed Morlekai the invitation. "Again, Lord Graves did hope you would be so kind as to personally drop off the retrieved music box to his seneschal, who shall be waiting for you at the entrance to his estates, whereupon he is directed to see to your every whim and need, and of course, assure that the librarian is utterly at your service."
Lucienda raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. "A trusting sort, is he not? Having already paid us in full."
Gregorian nodded. "This is true, fairest Lucienda. Yet all know that a promise from the Guild is as strong a commitment as one will find outside of royal proclamation. Our clients doubt neither your honor nor your resourcefulness."
Alacabar gave a soft chuckle. “And if we are ambushed by several score mercenaries or the equivalent, going along a predictable route, our powers but a fraction of what they are in the realm of Shadow, the gambit would serve both to weaken the Guild of some of its strongest players, and sully its reputation. And are you utterly sure, Guildmaster of the Barlton chapter, wily in the ways of politics as your kind so often is, that this is not some opening move against the Guild itself?”
For the first time Gregorian removed his affable mask, the guise of an eccentric and ultimately harmless little man instantly replaced with the serpentine gaze of a most ruthless player of the grand game of intrigue that was politics in Erovering. His fierce gaze and forbidding smile was a match for Morlekai's own. "I do not fritter away the pieces on our board so spuriously, rook. No movement of troops or whispers of intrigue involving that House have been brought to my attention, and I have more spies than you might think, looking after our interests. If there were any games afoot greater than the one you four are playing, you may rest assured, dear Alacabar, I would know."
Alacabar let loose a great guffaw that caused even the dust motes trapped in the shafts of crimson sunlight to dance about wildly, the baritone power of his voice apparent to all. “The silly mask gone at last! Now we may greet you in truth, Guildmaster of Barlton.”
A cool nod from the true head of the chapter. "Near half a dozen personal expeditions from which you have neither elected to have formally scribed by our bards to preserve the tale, nor objects of worth you have deemed to offer for our perusal or purchase. We know you are playing a deeper game, dear Delvers. Perhaps you are on the hunt for a treasure to rival the orb itself?"
Malek froze. Time seemed to slow, even as his heart began to race.
Gregorian nodded. “I can tell by your sudden silence, your killing glares, that my shot has hit the mark. And we take no issue with that.” An enigmatic smile.
"We do not wish to impede your progress, my friends. Far from it! For few if any Delvers accomplish even a fraction of what you four already have. Rest assured, were there any signs of fools that even thought to impede your path, they have long since been dealt with. For your interests are our interests. And no one, as you well know, is allowed to interfere with our interests. Find your treasure, Morlekai. Find an artifact of such renown that it shakes the very pillars of this realm!"
Dark laughter that set Malek's spine on edge, for all that Morlekai grinned in seeming fierce approval. "And by all means, when you are done playing with your toy, do allow us the right of first refusal. I have no doubt we could make you an offer, not only of wealth, but of power in the years to come, that would make your fellow Delvers quake with envy." Gregorian's smile was all too knowing. "For I suspect you sense what is to come as well as I, and the winning team to whom it never hurts to reaffirm your loyalty. For with the Guild behind your back, you never have to question your safety or freedom. All know to fear you and heed your power."
Malek laughed. “Is this part where you tell us how we’ll all end up dead in a ditch with our throats cut, if we dare cross the Guild?” he smirked, unable hold back the visceral frenzy he felt bubbling up inside him, muscles tingling, as if ready to fly into a berserker's rage; sensing the veiled threat behind the silken patter of words, unable even to hold back the gleeful grin as words poured forth of their own accord.
Gregorian’s eyes widened ever so slightly, momentarily nonplussed, even as Morlekai chuckled softly. “No need for him to say it, dear Malek. For that is understood by all of us who walk in the Shadows with the Guild behind our backs. We do not stab the hand that feeds us.”
Alacabar clapped Malek fondly on the back. "Well said, lad. 'Tis always refreshing when everything's out in the open. No false smiles with daggers pointed at our backs."
“We could take them, you know,” Malek found himself softly whispering, treacherous dark fury caressing his veins with the promise of darkest bloodlust. “We could take them all. Anyone who dared cross us. Anyone at all!” He grinned at the Guildmaster then, and perhaps there was something in his gaze, as a quiet sane part of him wondered at the man’s sudden sharp tang of anxiety, for all that he kept tight to the cool exterior of a master player of the game.
Lucienda looked faintly horrified at the prospect, which threw Malek instantly off, even as the hard crack of Morlekai’s mail covered fist smashed into his nose, the hot shocking sting of crunched cartilage and the salty tang of blood near instantly snapping him to his senses, for all that he felt of a sudden dizzy and disoriented.
“We do not threaten our own, pup. Ever! Is that clear, boy?” Fierce hot eyes glared into his own, and Malek, instantly off his frenzied high of a moment before, lowered his head, humbled and shamed. “It matters not if some fool thinks to bait us with anything more than innuendo. That is a line we never cross! Not even in jest. Not ever!”
Malek’s heart hammered with the awful humiliation tearing through him, suddenly sick with self-loathing. He couldn’t bear to do anything more than nod.
Morlekai’s fiery eyes turned to lock gazes with the Guildmaster. “My apologies for my companion’s madness.” His soft words oddly seemed to move Gregorian who blinked but once, shaking his head slowly.
“No apologies needed. He is a boy, under your care. A spring Delver who fears danger when, if he is but loyal to his pack, there will only be safety and friendship.”
Morlekai smiled coldly, nodding but once. “Good. We will speak no more of it. And as for the other issue, you should know damn well, asinine politics aside, that I would never put artifacts in play that could be used against our own.”
Gregorian nodded solemnly, taking a deep breath, as if centering himself. “I suspect words were spoken on both sides that are best forgotten.”
Morlekai nodded once, coldly. “Indeed. We will be going. Thank you for the purse.”
Gregorian smiled. “Enjoy your own little adventure. I do h
ope, whatever you unearth, you will allow us the pleasure of seeing it in action.”
Morlekai laughed at that, even as he subtly directed his companions to head toward the door. "Assuming I can find anything at all, dear Gregorian. We shall see what the fates have in store for us!"
The walk down to the multiple staircases down to the reinforced bank on the first floor seemed endless to Malek, his guts twisting with the anxious shame he felt, dreading what Morlekai would say when they left the Guild.
So preoccupied he felt, his spirits weren't raised in the slightest when the smiling banker politely informed him a short time later that his personal wealth was now in excess of five hundred gold crowns. A fortune that could see him the owner of a hundred small holdings, or able to equip an equal number of heavy cavalry upon battle-trained rounceys, fully armed and armored. His coin and Highrock training together would allow him to form a mercenary unit of cavalry, archers, and pikemen well capable of holding their own, anywhere on the continent.
"Lovely," Malek sighed. "My father will be so proud; eager to collect and dance upon my grave when I eventually fall to Shadow, for all that he would curse my soul for having lost nearly twenty-fold that amount, and all for the sake of a friend."
The banker blinked even as Lucienda gently dragged a maudlin Malek, by the ear no less. “Ouch. Stop that!”
“Certainly, once you stop acting like a maudlin child.”
Malek flushed. “Yes. I’m a failure. Mad dog and black sheep both. Not cut out for polite society. Could you let go now?”
Lucienda’s eyes blazed. “Are you really such a wounded soul, Del Malek? I always thought you a brave and true companion I was honored to have fighting at my side. But if you wish to lose yourself in a good bout of self-loathing because you haven’t quite learned to control your temper in polite society, then by all means do so. But do it on your own time! Do not shame us or yourself in front of Guild associates. Understood?”
Fiercely holding back tears of frustration, knowing that whatever he said or did it would be the wrong thing, he could bear to give only one nod of his head before abruptly pulling away, ignoring the sting in his ear before Lucienda finally let go, closing himself off and walking behind them.
“I think our boy just needs a good roll in the hay to cheer himself up, and vent that spleen!” Alacabar opined with a bemused chuckle, even as Lucienda sighed and shook her head.
The minute they made their way out of the Guildhall they were hit by the bite of a full winter gale, and Malek felt soothed as the ice pricks of half frozen snow gently stung away the tears of humiliation that had been his curse the moment he let his temper get the best of him.
Morekai turned to gaze coolly at all of them. “We all know where next we are going, and what we must do when we get there.” His grin was sharp and fierce, teeth a brilliant white. “We are close, my friends. So very close! Come, let us be off.”
Malek gave a relieved sigh, bending down to tighten the thick strappings of his reinforced boots as were the others before they prepared for the run ahead, all of them so infused with the mad vitality of Shadow that the cold hardly affected them, and all of them could easily outpace near any horse, especially in bad weather or over questionable terrain.
Malek inhaled once in surprise as he was jerked back to his feet, eyes lost in the simmering gaze of Morlekai. His voice, when he spoke, was fierce in its intensity, though his words were brief. “I do not care if you are a drunkard or a braggart. I do not care if you go through a dozen doxies or none at all. All I care is that you obey my commands when we enter the Dreamrealms, and always heed the one rule we must all follow! We leave our battlemadness in Shadow. We save the frenzy for those who are worth our wrath. And we never, ever threaten our fellows! No matter who implies what, innuendo and intimation are meaningless drivel till your Guildmate is actually coming against you with deadly intent! Until such a moment comes to pass, you never, ever strike to kill a member or friend of the Guild, or threaten to! Are we clear, pup?"
Heart hammering, feeling as shaken as he ever had in all the times he had Delved, Malek nodded in solemn deference.
Morlekai clapped a shaken Malek once upon the back with such force he nearly tumbled over, for all his supernatural strength and poise.
“Very good, Malek. Then we shall speak no more of it, and dwell upon it never again.” He then raised his voice, addressing them all. “Everyone’s gear and laces secure? Then let us be off!”
With that the quartet began to make their way to the Graves manor, some distance to the north and west, quickly eating up the miles, easily outpacing the few brave or foolhardy souls leaving Barlton in the midst of a winter storm. Even royal messengers, their horses laden with missives and packages destined for the capital, did not dare push their own mounts past a trot, headed no doubt only so far as the nearest wayfarer's inn.
Yet for Malek and his companions, the howling gale they found themselves in was but a pleasant tingle upon their skin. So infused they all were with the eldritch essence of Shadow that they could run with the speed and endurance of arctic wolves, none of them feeling cold or fatigue in the least.
Laughing with the wonder of it, Malek could feel his cheeks stretching into the same madcap grin he saw on Lucienda's face. Indeed, he realized in that moment of exultant wonder, it was just as glorious and effortless now as was soaring across fields of snow in a dream. And in that moment Malek felt a strange chill coursing down his spine, euphoria momentarily vanishing, forced to wonder just how close they all were to losing themselves entirely, having absorbed power rivaling that of any living wizard. Malek doubted even an archmage could take them on with his mastery of bloodwards. His Shadow tainted soul had lost the ability to cast any of the magics he had struggled so hard to master at Highrock. Yet when it came to absorbing energies with his wards or weaving other works of blood in the depths of Shadow, he had never met his match. Power they all had. Raw and terrible, near the equal any adventurer Malek had ever heard of, living or lost to legend.
Yet there was a cost to their deadly gifts. For all knew that Midnight Delvers, the most potent of their breed, also danced closest to the razor's edge of oblivion. In constant peril of slipping into final legend, fading from all memory save that of the most devoted of bards, determined to preserve the stories of their exploits for generations to come, in stories so grand and wondrous all would think it but mad figments of dream and wonder.
They were at constant risk of slipping into final reverie, forgotten by the world around them forever.
“Don’t worry about it, boy. Revel in the moment! Live for today, for glory, for your companions! Our time will come when it comes. Until then, let us savor the adventure of it all!”
Malek nodded solemnly at Alacabar’s words, disturbed only slightly that his companion could all but read his mind. It was a talent that had forged naturally between them, so connected they were, surviving the chaos and madness of wondrous dreams together. Indeed, when they battled the horrors of nightmare it was in utter concert, similar to the sensations he had once shared with his beloved shieldsister, the four now so closely connected they could fight in perfect unison, almost as one.
And just as they had grown closer and more aware of each other, Malek had grown increasingly certain that Morlekai played a far grander game than any of them fully realized. Of course, he was just as certain that the man was as fierce an ally as Malek could ever hope to have, so at the end of the day he didn’t really care one way or the other, any more than he cared about Jess’s barely contained bloodlust and savage passions; all her secrets, twisted and terrible, that she hid even from herself.
None of that mattered, really, as long as when the chips were down, those he loved had his back. That, Malek had decided long ago, was all that really mattered. After the horrific betrayals he had experienced from his own family, after witnessing the aftermath of his poor Jacob dying at the hands of his own father, a brutal act he had avenged with terrible ferocity, h
e realized he didn’t care how dark and terrible his companions were. He didn't care what mad schemes they had spinning like tops upon the board of life, so long as their friendships with him were honest and true.
31
“And there it is.” Morlekai gazed almost longingly at the grim looking fortress they approached, the four having just been admitted through the massive front gate by a deferential pair of guards wearing uniforms of sober black, sword and buckler still sheathed upon their hips. Thick walls surrounded the snow covered property in its entirety. Malek could smell remnants of a summer garden, the spindly arms of dormant trees reaching upwards for the heavens like tormented souls begging for release.
Malek grimaced and shook the mad fancy away.
Vast structure that it was, neither the etched and polished oaken double doors, impressive as they were, nor even the stained glass panes in the slitted windows managed to alleviate the heavy brooding presence of the building constructed almost entirely of massive stone blocks, ancient and weathered. The Ivy allowed to grow upon its towers, no doubt for a bit of added color, was for the most part shriveled and desiccated, so fierce a winter Erovering had suffered this year.
Alacabar nodded. “Such a grim pile of rocks I’d expect serving as sentinel for our border lords. Rare indeed it is for a lord in the heart of Erovering to claim such an obviously fortified and ugly structure as this for his home.”
Lucienda gave a melodious chuckle. “Rare indeed, and actually quite illegal, dear Alacabar. Which just goes to show both that our dear hosts are both well connected and paranoid, though no doubt they will say they merely petitioned for the right to keep their ancestor’s home intact, all significant siege defenses long since retired, a claim that will no doubt be shown to be false, to the folly of any force that dared challenge them.”
“How I love politics!” Alacabar mockingly declared. “'Tis a wonder this country keeps itself in one piece without flying into a bunch of squabbling camps, really.”
Gods of Shadow and Flame Page 30