Into Vushaar

by Robert M Kerns

  “Huh?” Wynn asked, lifting his eyes to meet Declan’s gaze.

  The sleeping form began to stir, and Declan’s mouth curled into a sardonic grin. “Too late.”

  That night, Gavin did not sleep well at all, and he did not feel the least bit rested when he finally opened his eyes. He clawed his way to his feet.

  “Oh, goodness,” Gavin said, as he stretched and blinked his eyes against the morning sun. “That was not the best night’s sleep I've had on this trip. Why did you people let me sleep so long?”

  When he turned around, Gavin found everyone but Kiri standing not too far away. Each person looked like he or she had something to say, and it was just as apparent that none of them wanted to speak.

  Lillian finally stepped forward. She was wringing her hands. “Kiri's gone, Gavin; slavers took her.”

  Chapter 17

  “Show me.” Gavin said. “Take me through what you know step by step.”

  Sarres and Declan looked to each other and nodded in unison. They then turned and started walking away from the campfire. Gavin followed. They walked in a southwesterly direction, and before too long, Gavin felt himself leaving the wards. They walked farther southwest until they arrived at a semi-clearing surrounded by clumps of undergrowth. There were signs of a struggle.

  “From what the tracks show, a six-person raiding party was moving southeast and came upon Kiri here,” Declan said. “There was a fight of some sort, and Kiri was eventually subdued. However, there is some good news. These raiders were apparently from one of the bands that my associates have infiltrated, because we found these artifacts under a hedge-plant over here.”

  Declan led Gavin over to a plant and bent it away to expose the dirt at its roots. Symbols were scratched into the dry topsoil, and there was a handkerchief tied around the trunk of the shrub.

  Gavin turned to the group and took in their countenances. They still feared him; he could see it, but he was past the rage, past the raw emotions that would've led to immediate violence.

  “Please, don't take this the wrong way, but I would appreciate it if you could give Declan and me some privacy for a few moments.”

  The others withdrew a distance, and Gavin knelt in front of the symbols.

  “What do these say, Declan?”

  “They're basically an identification of the Wraith and a statement that she will protect Kiri. She recognized the Glyph of Kirloth in Kiri's ward-stone and suspected you would be coming for her. I've examined the handkerchief as best I could, and it seems to have a few drops of blood on it.”

  Gavin nodded, untying the handkerchief from the trunk of the shrub. He rose to his feet and motioned for the others to re-join.

  “What is it, Gavin?” Lillian asked as they once more stood at Gavin's side.

  Gavin's eyes never left the handkerchief as he spoke. “It's a way to find Kiri and track the filth that took her.”

  Gavin led them over to the center of the clearing. He stopped and held the handkerchief in his left hand. It was hard to do, so hard to do, but Gavin managed to clear his mind of everything but his intent.

  I will see the owner of this blood.

  The intent firm in his mind, Gavin spoke a Word of Divination, “Klaepos.” His anger, rage, and fear were so great, the massive pain he should've felt was a mere echo, and the resonance of his power slammed into his apprentices' guts like a giant's fist.

  Wynn and Braden collapsed to their knees, the wind driven from their lungs. Mariana was staggered, but being older with more experienced around the Art, she was more resilient. Lillian only stayed on her feet through sheer force of will.

  By now, a sphere of air in front of Gavin easily ten feet in diameter was beginning to shimmer and ripple. As far as most workings of the Art go, the effect was a gradual one, and Gavin didn't need to wait for it to complete.

  Kiri fought with all her might to hold back the tears every fiber of her being wanted to shed. The rope that bound her hands was rough and tight; she expected the skin around her wrists to be torn and bleeding before long, and her left cheek ached worse than she could ever remember. There had be a nasty bruise; she didn't see how her face could feel like it did without one. That wasn't so bad, though. Bruises heal. The worst part was the slave collar that chafed her shoulders and neck.

  Kiri sneaked a glance at the woman who rode beside her. She looked vaguely Vushaari, but despite the dark hair, her complexion was light enough Kiri wasn't sure. The way she had stood up to the men about to gang-rape Kiri was the one thing that gave Kiri enough strength to keep from breaking down.

  There were six of them in the raiding party, and they were riding hard. Kiri didn't understand how they hadn't killed their horses. They-

  Don't react, Kiri. She heard Gavin's voice in her mind, clear and distinct, and hope welled up within her soul. No one can hear me but you. The woman who rides beside you is one of my agents, and she will protect you. They will probably do a great number of things to break your will, but please, don't despair. I'm coming for you; I swear on my life that I am.

  The faint touch Kiri felt in her mind faded away.

  Gavin pulled his hand from the scrying sphere and dispelled it. He turned to find everyone facing him, waiting.

  “Don't just hear what I'm about to say; listen well, and understand me before you answer. I could teleport us all to Kiri's location right this instant, and we could free her. But that would not soothe the anger and rage that threatens to devour me. I will follow this band of slavers back to wherever they base their operations, and I will eradicate the entire force from the face of this world. People will speak of their fate in terrified whispers for a thousand years.

  “This is not vengeance; this is not punishment. This is an object lesson to the world that I will not tolerate attacks on people who bear the glyph of my House. I do not take your participation for granted. If any of you disagree with my intent on whatever grounds, I can respect that and will send you to whatever destination you desire, and your departure will not change my disposition toward you in the slightest. You are my friends, and I would do no less if it were one of you we saw in the scrying sphere. I'm going back to camp; you have until I'm packed to decide.”

  The group watched Gavin walk away in silence for several moments. It was Mariana who spoke first.

  “We're guests in a foreign country,” the battle-mage of House Cothos said. “We don't have the authority to intervene, and I'm active military personnel in a unit attached to the Army of Tel. This could have very bad repercussions, and Tel and Vushaar aren't exactly the close friends they used to be. I realize we just intervened in a feud between two families, but one could argue we were operating at the behest of the Crown Princess.”

  “Mariana,” Sarres said, waiting until the battle-mage was looking at him before continuing, “I don't think he cares.”

  Elayna nodded. “I have no doubt whatsoever that he would do the same if it were one of us captured by slavers, but we all know there couldn't have been a worse person they could have abducted. I don't see as how we have any option. I fear what will happen if we're not there.”

  Braden shifted his eyes from the distant figure of Gavin to face the elf. “What do you mean? You believe Gavin will commit some kind of atrocity if we're not there?”

  Elayna met Braden's gaze. “Young man, I doubt there's anything we can do to prevent that, but it will not be as bad as Kirloth's treatment of the men who murdered his family. No, I fear something worse. For all his knowledge and mastery, Gavin is still very much an untried wizard; he's still learning how far he can push himself with the Art. I saw my brother, Kantar, go through the same stage in our youth. We need to be there to watch his back, in case he pushes himself too far.”

  “What really bothers me,” Lillian said, “is this woman he claimed as an agent. How could Gavin have possibly cultivated a network of agents so quickly?”

  “I-dunno,” Wynn said. “Could-he-have-inherited-them-somehow?”

  “
Agents...inherited agents...” Mariana said, her voice distant. With no warning, her body went rigid, and her eyes rolled back into her head.

  “It was the eighth day of the fourth month in the old calendar,” Mariana said, but the voice was not her own, masculine and with an odd accent. “To counter the growing threat of the Lornithrasa, Kirloth formed the organization known as the Wraiths. He captured one Lornithrasa and wracked that man's body and soul to shatter the bonds Lornithar had created, then placed the man under a geas to share all he knew about the Lornithrasa with this new force. Those who became the first Wraiths of Kirloth were chosen based on two criteria: some natural talent at stealth and a certain moral indifference toward such deeds as murder.

  “Throughout the Godswar, the Wraiths of Kirloth saw to those tasks that no one wanted to admit made the Godswar easier to win. In the wake of the Founding, Kirloth re-purposed the Wraiths to act as the personal intelligence agents of the Archmagister of Tel, though they never strayed from their training as masters of stealth and subtle violence.”

  Mariana staggered as she came to her senses. She closed her eyes and sighed, saying, “Dammit! That hasn't happened since I was a child.”

  “We should be moving if we want to catch Gavin,” Declan said and started walking toward camp.

  The others moved to follow, but Lillian stayed close to Mariana.

  “Are you okay?” Lillian asked. “What was that?”

  “I'm fine, just a little mad at myself,” Mariana said, her stride unsteady as she walked. “We don't like to discuss this, but you probably deserve an explanation. Each of our families have certain legacies from our ancestors who fought in the Godswar. Some, like House Mivar's affinity to the Art, were bestowed by Bellos at his ascendance, but in my family's case, it's a legacy of Cothos himself.”

  They were almost to the edge of the wards now, and Mariana's gait had normalized, her voice stronger and closer to normal.

  “Cothos was so horrified by the Godswar that he felt we should always have a record of what transpired and why we fought in the first place, and he felt Mivar's Histories were too bland, too detached. He spent over two years constructing the composite effect to achieve what he wanted, and when he completed it, half of that effect created a matrix of knowledge within his mind that was a perfect and complete record of the Godswar...down to the smallest detail.

  “Now, Cothos was mortal, and he knew it. What's more, he wasn't comfortable at all with idea of following Othron's path, so the other half of his composite effect bound that matrix to his family line. Some of you may have heard the term 'the Lore-keepers of House Cothos.' Every member of my family has that perfect record of the Godswar, but I don't think Cothos truly considered what he was doing, how binding this composite effect to living beings would affect the generations. You see, besides the history of the Godswar, each member of my family has an affinity with one specific subset of knowledge. Because of that affinity, we are an archive for that subject. For example, my mother's affinity is metallurgy; if her physique would allow it, she could be a better blacksmith than the best dwarf in Stonehearth.”

  “That-can’t-be-fun-at-all,” Wynn said as he walked. “What's-your-affinity?”

  Before Mariana could speak, Lillian gasped, her eyes wide, and she ran to get ahead of Declan. When she passed Declan, Lillian started walking backward toward the camp, her eyes intent on the bard.

  “When Gavin asked us to step away...he was having you translate those symbols under that bush. What were they, some kind of secret code?”

  “Lillian,” Braden said, “what are you talking about?”

  “Declan's a Wraith,” Lillian said. “I just figured it out.”

  Declan stopped walking. His posture never changed, but he sighed. That sigh was laden with resignation.

  “I was really hoping you wouldn't start connecting dots,” Declan said. He turned to faced everyone as he spoke. “My oath to the order requires me to kill any who learn of our existence. But...you are his friends, and he was going to tell you of us when we first set out on this journey. I convinced him otherwise. Swear to me that you will never tell another soul, living or dead, of what you now know, and I will follow his trust in you. Before you swear, be certain that—should you ever betray his trust—we will know, and you will die. It may not be immediate. It may not happen for years, but if you choose to betray his trust, you will die at hands of a Wraith one day.”

  Each person swore never to betray Gavin's trust, and there was no mistaking Declan's pride. “‘Tel will never fall, not so long as the Great Houses stand together.’ Do you recognize the quote?”

  Mariana nodded in silence.

  The others looked back and forth between themselves. It was Braden who broke the silence by asking, “Well? Who said it?”

  “Bellos,” Declan said, “the last time He appeared in the mortal world...just shortly after the death of Bellock Vanlon.”

  Chapter 18

  The slavers met up with several more raiding parties as they traveled generally south. The evening of the third day, the much-larger raiding band arrived at what had once been a farming estate, which the slavers had fortified into a collection and distribution center. There were archer towers and sentry patrols. The former animal corrals now held the slaves, one for the men and the other for women.

  The slaver in charge of the raiding party walked back and pulled Kiri from her mount. The woman who had ridden beside her the past three days started to object, but the slaver glared up at her.

  “Stow it,” the slaver said. “You’ve been so close to her the past three days, it’s enough to make a person wonder if maybe you’re not a little sweet on her.”

  The woman smirked. “She’s not my type. I’m just trying to keep you idiots from taking any actions you’ll come to sorely regret later.”

  The slaver frowned as he pulled Kiri to her feet by the rope attached to her collar, asking, “Now, what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “She wasn’t wandering around in the night up there. Even now, riders are coming for her, and while you’ve sealed your fate regardless, there are fates worse than death. The one coming for her would see to that if he finds her…overly mistreated. Trust me on this.”

  The man glared at the woman as she sat astride her horse, and his fist clenched around the rope attached to Kiri’s collar. At last, he released the rope.

  “Fine; have it your way,” the slaver growled. “Take her up to the manor. I’m sure the one running this mess will want to say hello.”

  The woman dropped from her mount with a cat-like grace that drew Kiri’s attention. The last person she’d seen move like that was Declan. The woman approached Kiri, withdrawing a small key from her belt; she inserted that key into the lock securing the collar, and a quick flick of her wrist released the latch. A small cloud of dust rose as the collar landed on the ground.

  “Thank you,” Kiri said, her voice quiet. “How do you know he’s coming for me?”

  “Because I helped him find you,” the woman said as she took hold of Kiri’s upper left arm and started guiding her toward the house. “Besides, we both know he’d come for you regardless of whether I helped him or not.”

  Exquisite furnishings filled the halls of the manor. Lamps with gold filigree, crystal chandeliers, fine tapestries and carpets, and porcelain tea service on silver platters were but a few of the lavish items the slavers appropriated from the former owners. The woman led Kiri to a set of double doors that slid back into the walls, which were currently closed. Muffled voices carried through the doors, which were soon no longer muffled as the woman pushed the doors wide.

  “What’s the status of the next shipment for Ivarson?” a woman asked as she leaned over the massive dining table that had become the centerpiece of an impromptu logistics center. The woman stood out among all other Vushaari. Her form—though attractive—wasn’t up to the level of Kiri. Her skin—though smooth and cared for—bore the common Vushaari olive complexion. No. What made
her stand out among most other women in Vushaar was her wavy, blond hair.

  Kiri jerked as she recognized the woman’s voice.

  “We should have enough with the batch the raiding parties brought in just now, once we brand them,” a man said. “I’m told a detachment from the army is already on the way to retrieve them. We should have them ready for conscription when they arrive in time.”

  The woman leaning over the table said, “Very well. I don’t want there to be any snags. Ivarson is just starting to get the siege established, and I want him to have plenty of bodies to throw at the Cavaliers. I paid good money for the soldiers he’s keeping as the core of his force, and I’d rather not have the Cavaliers whittle them down too much. After all, I’ll need a new royal guard when I take the throne.”

  “Milady, the special slave the outriders spoke of is here,” the man said.

  “Oh? What’s so special-” The woman stood up from leaning against the table and lifted her eyes to the pair standing just inside the door, and Kiri found herself looking at her half-sister, Kaila Claymark.

  In the months following the death of his wife, Rionne, Terris asked his wife’s younger sister, Callie, to help him with his young daughter. It was perhaps inevitable, given their close proximity and Callie’s pleasant personality plus her obvious love for her niece, that a lapse in judgment or two would occur. Not even two years after Rionne’s death, Kiri’s half-sister was born.

  Kiri stared at her sister, unable to understand what she was seeing. Kaila didn’t visibly react; she just stared into Kiri’s eyes, and Kiri couldn’t help but notice how dead those eyes looked.

  At last, Kaila sighed. When she spoke, her voice was tired, resigned almost. “You’re supposed to be dead. I just knew it was too much to hope that incompetent arcanist would get it right.”