Dex bought the cart, and a stout draft horse. He paid for the livery man to look after Titan for a week, feeding the stallion oats and fresh water so that the horse would be strong and ready to carry him south as soon as Dex captured his father.
In the village market Dex found a tunic of thick wool and a matching cloak with a hood. He also bought a new pair of gloves to cover his right hand so that the platinum bonded to his skin didn’t show. He even managed to purchase a full barrel of ale from a brewer who promised to have the keg waiting at the livery when Dex returned.
When night fell, Dex set out with his new horse and cart. He had gotten directions from the owner of the livery. He walked the horse, who pulled the empty cart northeast toward Mygar’s Keep. Traveling only at night, and resting during the day, usually in a wooded area so that he didn’t attract attention, was difficult. The need to get to his father was intense. He had come so far and endured so much. He didn’t want to wait any longer, but he forced himself to be patient. Catching his father on the run had been much less risky than trying to sneak him out of an enemy fortress. If anyone even suspected him of being a Marshyl he would be in grave danger.
He stopped at an inn on the second day of his journey, eating a hot meal of eggs, biscuits, soft fried potatoes, and a thick slab of ham. Sitting across from him were two men in robes much like his father had worn. They had deep hoods thrown back to reveal their pale skin and drawn faces. They talked in whispers but Dex managed to catch snatches of their conversation.
“... failed in his task.”
“I heard the master stripped him of his rank.”
“... won’t face the hoarders without him.”
“... either, but he’s disgraced....”
“... still the strongest Regulator. Have you laid eyes on him?”
“I haven’t seen him. I suppose he’s locked in his room,” said one of the men, who Dex took special note of. He had a patch of tangled, black chin whiskers that stuck out at a strange angel from his face.
Dex finished his meal, and then sipped his drink while he waited to see where the men would go. Once they finished eating, they both left the inn, but went their separate ways. Dex followed the man with whiskers, who happened to be heading for the ally where Dex had secured his horse and cart. Without a word, Dex gave the man a magical shove into the ally and hurried in after him.
The man was on his knees and struggling to pull out a wand from within his tangled robes. As soon as he jerked it free, Dex whispered his own spell.
“Gravish!”
The wand flew from the Regulator’s hand, his eyes growing wide with panic.
“Ecclass,” Dex said.
The man toppled over onto his side, his face frozen in panic. The paralysis spell felt weak. It was a strain to hold the spell in place and levitate the man into the cart, but Dex managed it. He made sure the man’s robes covered his body, so that it looked like a woolen blanket had been thrown into the cart in a sloppy fashion. Not that anyone noticed. Dex had arrived at the village just after dawn, purchased a meal, and left without speaking to anyone but the serving maid. No one seemed to pay the traveler much attention, and he left the village without being questioned or followed.
Dex led the cart for two miles before stopping to interrogate the man in his cart. He was tired from working magic, and he released the paralysis spell with a sudden sense of relief, as if he had been carrying a heavy weight and could finally lower it to the ground to rest.
The man sat up suddenly, jerking the hood off his face and frowning as he searched for his wand.
“You!” the man shouted. “Give me back my wand.”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” Dex said, holding up the wand and looking at the intricate designs in the woodwork. It was an oak wand, created with griffin blood, excellent for defensive spells and with a unique intrinsic curse called griffin’s call, an auditory blast that stunned opponents. “Tell me everything you know about Maslow and I’ll give you the wand.”
“Who?”
“Maslow, I heard you talking about him in the inn.”
“I don’t know anyone named Maslow,” the man said, getting to his feet.
He wasn’t a big man, but he was older than Dex and angry. He adjusted his robes as he inched closer to where Dex was standing.
“The man I spoke of is Master Crane’s Hammer, the bane of the hoarders known as the Marshyl Guild. Now give me the wand before I crack your skull open, boy.”
“Easy there, don’t get testy,” Dex said. “I need to know more.”
“The only thing you need to know is to fear your elders.”
The man rushed forward, swinging a roundhouse punch toward Dex, which he saw coming in plenty of time to duck under it. He gave the man a shove. The older man sprawled onto the ground. Dex knew that one of the reasons Marshyls trained so hard was to avoid the temptation of relying on magic for everything they did. Some wizards had wasted away, their physical bodies having withered while they used magic for even the simplest of tasks. The Regulator was obviously not physically fit. Not only did he fall, but he was panting like a hound in the heat of summer as he rose back to his feet.
“I’m not going to tell you again, boy!”
“I don’t have time for this,” Dex said. “Start talking or I’ll snap the wand.”
Oak wasn’t very flexible, and Dex felt the wooden fibers popping as he bent the wand. It was almost to the snapping point as the man desperately begged Dex to stop.
“You’re a Regulator,” Dex said. “Where does your order stay in this area?”
“Mygar’s Keep,” the man said. “It’s less than half a day’s walk from here.”
“And this man you call the Hammer? What does he look like?”
The desperate Regulator described Dex’s father in vivid detail.
“Good,” Dex said, tossing the man his wand. “Show me where he keeps his things.”
The man nearly dropped the wand, but managed to snatch it out of the air. Then his face turned from panic into a snarl of hatred as he raised the wand toward Dex, but before he could cast his curse the younger man swept the Regulator’s legs from under him.
“Ozztia!”
The man in the flowing robes hit the ground hard, a reddish spell flashing into the sky. Dex moved over quickly and stomped on the wizard’s hand. The oak wand didn’t break, but several fingers and bones in the frail man’s hand did. He screamed in pain, as Dex snatched the wand back.
“Not so loud,” Dex said. “You’ll attract too much attention.”
The young Marshyl looked at the wand, then said, “Bludj swyphta!” as he tapped it on the side of the fallen regulator’s head. The oak wand produced a simple cudgel spell that knocked the man out cold. Satisfied with his handiwork, Dex stood up and was almost hit by a flash of red light.
Chapter 20
The killing curse slipped past his shoulder and Dex staggered to the side, just as another spell was cast from a large man in brown robes very similar to those of the wizard Dex had just knocked unconscious.
“Sheidosis spheratos!” Dex said.
A green magical shield appeared in front of Dex, deflecting the red spell. At almost the same instant, Dex lifted his attacker into the air using the magic from the opal ring that was bonded to his flesh. The opal ring could do more than just levitate, but that was its primary power and using the magic had become almost second nature to Dex. He sent the man up nearly twenty feet as another flash of red light shoot through the air, then he dropped the robed figure to the ground, where he landed with a nasty-sounding crunch.
Dex hurried over to the man, whose neck was bent at a horrific angle. There was no time to waste. It was broad daylight and Dex had just killed a Regulator. If the unconscious wizard had been telling the truth, they were only a few miles from the fortress where his father was hiding, with who knew how many other wizards. The road ran beside a forest. Dex levitated the dead Regulator into the bushes, then added leaves and falle
n branches to conceal the corpse, before returning to his cart.
The man he’d hit with the cudgel spell was coming around, groaning from the pain. Dex hefted him into the cart using the levitation spell, then led the horse off the road. They moved so far back into the trees that Dex was certain they wouldn’t be seen. His only concern was that they might be heard.
“Ecclass,” Dex said, casting the paralysis spell over the man once more.
He needed answers from the man, but he couldn’t risk them being overheard if someone came looking to see what had caused his captive to scream. The last thing Dex wanted was to be blindsided again. That was apparently one of the tactics taught to the Regulators. His father had done it, and the dead wizard in the bushes near the road had almost succeeded in hitting Dex with the killing curse. Without his armor, he would be the one lying dead in the dirt instead of the Regulator with poor aim.
An hour passed, then another. Staying close to his captive made maintaining the paralysis spell easier, so Dex sat in the cart right beside the man. When he finally felt safe enough to release his prisoner he pointed the oak wand right in the Regulator’s face.
“Don’t make a sound,” Dex warned him.
“You broke my hand,” he whined.
“It could have been worse,” Dex said, thinking of the way the other Regulator’s neck had twisted. It was such a grotesque sight that it made Dex feel like he was going to be sick but he couldn’t keep it from appearing in his mind and sending shivers down his back.
“What do you want?”
“Your name,” Dex said.
“Zander,” the man said, tears escaping the corners of his eyes. He kept his broken hand held tightly to his chest.
“Alright Zander, I’ve got news for you. The Hammer is my father.”
The Regulator’s eyes grew large with surprise.
“That’s right. Ole dad left us and joined your twisted order of misfits. I’ve come to take him home. Now tell me everything about the fortress.”
Zander didn’t resist. He told Dex about the high wall, the wizards who patrolled the battlements, and Maslow’s quarters in the watchtower. When it began to grow dark, Dex helped Zander from the cart, stripped him of his robes, and tied him to a tree.
“I’m not a monster,” Dex said, covering the shivering regulator in his new cloak. “But I can’t have you giving me away. The only alternative is to kill you. My guess is you’ll be able to slither out of that rope in a day or so.”
“Not with a broken hand,” the man cried. “Don’t leave me here.”
“Sorry,” Dex said, before stuffing the glove from his left hand into the man’s mouth and tying it in place with a leather thong.
He left the woods, leading the cart and raising the hood on his robe. Dex had no idea how closely the fortress would be guarded, but he hoped that in the darkness, with one of the order’s robes on, he wouldn’t be questioned. It took an hour to reach the fortress, which came into view long before he arrived at the main gate. The keep had a high wall and a massive gatehouse. Inside the wall, an ornate palace had been built with a watchtower at each corner.
“Hey, who goes?” asked the man on top of the gatehouse when Dex approached. There were torches burning in sconces on either side of the portcullis, and the man on the battlement leaned forward into the light, where Dex stood beside the draft horse pulling his empty cart.
Dex didn’t look up as he responded, “Zander.”
“Well, it’s about bloody time. You’ve been gone all day.”
Dex waved but didn’t respond as he led the horse into the gatehouse. He could feel himself trembling. The voluminous robe covered his entire body, and he carried Zander’s oak wand in case he needed to do some small bit of magic to convince the other Regulators of his identity. Zander had claimed that Maslow’s quarters were in the southwest watchtower. Dex saw that there was a large window halfway up the round tower and he positioned the cart just below it.
Inside the castle walls were a narrow bailey and several smaller buildings. Dex saw that some of the people wore the flowing robes of Regulators, but others were in more common dress. A man in dirty clothes, who smelled of horses and manure, approached Dex.
“I’ll see to your horse, sir,” the man said, bowing a little as he refrained from looking Dex in the eye.
“I won’t be here long,” Dex said. “I don’t want her moved.”
“It’s no problem, sir. I can get her some oats and water. She’ll be safe and ready in the stable with the other animals.”
Dex had no intentions of hurting the man, but he drew the oak wand and stepped closer to the stable hand as he spoke.
“Is there some problem with leaving my horse right here?” Dex said in a menacing tone.
“No sir, I just wanted to help.”
“Well then, go away before you regret challenging me.”
“I meant no offense sir, no offense.”
Dex felt guilty for frightening the man, but the last thing he needed was to find his father only to lose the cart. He needed the small contraption to get his father away from the castle without attracting attention. The bailey was not a busy place, and the cold night had most people who were forced to go outdoors moving quickly to reach their destination. There were more torches in sconces near the castle entrance, but the area under the window was relatively dark.
A look up on the walls of the ancient keep showed that the Regulators on guard were focused on the land around the fortress, not on what was going on inside the castle. Dex felt there was a good chance he could sneak his father away without being seen. He slid the wand back inside the robe he was wearing and checked to make sure the hood kept his face in shadows, before heading toward the entrance to the castle proper.
There were no guards that Dex could see near the large wooden door. He tugged the handle and the door swung open easily enough. The interior was gloomy, but Dex could see the flagstone floors and bare stone walls of a long entryway. He moved to his left, keeping his head down and trying to appear as if he was casually strolling along and knew exactly where he was going. He knew he needed to find the staircase to the watchtower where his father had his personal quarters, but the only passage in that direction was a large hall, where it appeared nearly thirty Regulators were eating and drinking near a massive fireplace. Dex could smell the wine before he peeked into the room.
There were two doors leading out of the feast hall on the far side. One was almost certainly the servants’ entrance that led to the kitchen. The other, Dex hoped, would lead to the watchtower. He looked around the entryway again but didn’t see anyone. It seemed safe enough to stay where he was until he was certain what door to make his way toward once he entered the feasting hall.
His mouth was dry, and his bladder seemed about to burst as he tried to calm his nerves before entering the long room. He had spied on the room long enough to see several servants enter and leave through the door to the right. Dex just hoped that the door to the left led to the watchtower. It felt strange to be without his armor, and he longed for a sword. Mygar’s Keep was crawling with wizards, but a solid blade close to hand would have been a familiar and welcome comfort.
Finally, when he felt as though he could wait no longer, he stepped into the grand hall. There were lamps on the tables and hanging in ornate fixtures from the ceiling. The long, rectangular room was filled with golden light. It was also much warmer than the entryway had been. Dex walked slowly around a long row of heavy tables. The other Regulators seemed to pay him no attention. Some were loud and others were huddled in quiet conversation. Dex kept his head down and didn’t see the drunken wizard who staggered toward him. There were only a dozen paces to the door that Dex was trying to reach when the Regulator staggered in front of him. They both tried to go around the other, but moved the same way and had to stop.
“Why don’t you get out of the way, you oaf,” the Regulator said, his words slurring from his wine-soaked tongue.
“I’m so
rry,” Dex said.
“You will be,” the Regulator snarled as he stepped in front of Dex again.
Dex raised his hands and stepped back. His heart was pounding in his chest as if he’d just run six miles. The back of his mind was tingling, and for the first time since saving the villagers in the Sawtooth Mountains, Dex was tempted to hurt someone with the magic from the opal ring. He wanted to lash out at the room full of Regulators. It was shocking to see so many wizards sitting together without a fear in the world. Dex realized his father must have been telling the truth about being part of a movement of magic users. They were the nobility of the royal fortress, served like kings and queens.
The drunken man drew his wand and without thinking Dex grabbed hold of the man’s wrist and twisted it. A flash of orange light skittered from the tip of the wand and up the wall, before Dex snatched the wand away from the drunken man’s grasp.
“What the hell are you doing?” the man demanded, as if drawing a wand shouldn’t have evoked such a response.
“You’re drunk,” Dex said angrily.
He tossed the wand to a group of Regulators who had taken an interest in the confrontation. One of the men reached out to catch the wand, but fumbled it and the wooden stick clattered onto the table.
“That’s my wand,” the drunken man said, as if he didn’t understand what was happening.
Dex pushed him back against the wall.
“Just stay there and try not to fall down,” Dex warned him.
He stepped past the man and was almost to the door when one of the men at the table hailed him. His hand was on the latch and he wanted to pull the door open and dash through, but he knew if he didn’t respond it would arouse suspicion.
“Won’t you join us for a drink?” the Regulator, a tall man surrounded by his friends, said.
“Another time, perhaps,” Dex replied
“The Hammer has not come out of his rooms since he returned,” said a different man, much shorter than the first. “He will not see you.”
“I must deliver my message to him in person,” Dex said.
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