Battle Born (Dagger of the World Book 2)

by K. L. Reinhart

  “None of this is a coincidence, Terak. Stay close,” Jacques hissed as he wound his way around and through the crowd of people. Terak could hear them shouting all around him.

  “What does this mean? Why did the Ixcht attack us!?”

  “Protect the Lord General! Call all guards to duty!”

  “You must have brought them here!”

  “This was an attempt on the Lord General’s life!”

  Both the Enclave and Brecha appeared to be ready to blame the others for their recent misfortune, even though, out on the battlefield at least, it had been clear to Terak that the Ixcht were just as ready to attack Brecha forces as they were the Enclave’s.

  “Do you not see the blood on our Magister’s robes? You should be thanking us!” One of the senior Brothers loudly shouted at the Brecha Captain Ormskirk.

  “This is no coincidence!” the enraged Captain Ormskirk shouted back.

  “Indeed, it is not,” Father Jacques stepped forward into the press, beside Magister Inedi, who cast a concerned look in his direction.

  “And just who are you?” the Captain demanded, standing defensively in front of the younger Lord General Falan, who appeared uncertain about everything that was going on around them.

  “Father Jacques is a trusted senior Brother,” the Magister said quickly, but Terak caught the strong look that she threw in Jacques’s direction. She was upset at him stepping forward so publicly like this, when the Enclave-External was supposed to be the hidden arm of the Enclave.

  “His opinion is a valued one to me,” Magister Inedi said, clearing her throat. “Speak, Father Jacques.”

  “Magister, Lord General,” Jacques nodded seriously to both of them. “I believe that Captain Ormskirk is indeed correct. This is no coincidence that the White Face Legion attacked here, so far outside of their traditional territories as well as their natural raiding season.”

  “At last, someone around here makes sense,” Ormskirk muttered irritably.

  “This was a coordinated attack, that must have seen the White-Faced Legion travel many leagues past much softer and easier targets,” Jacques said. “I have been asking myself why,” the Father continued. “Why now? Why here?”

  “Why US!?” one of the more enthusiastic of the senior Brothers agreed.

  “And what is your conclusion, Father Jacques?” Magister Inedi said severely.

  “There is only one thing that is different about tonight, Magister,” the Father said. “And that has to be the arrival of the Brecha forces, and the Lady of the North—”

  “Hang on a minute. Are you trying to suggest that all of this is our fault?” Ormskirk demanded.

  “Not at all, Captain Ormskirk. What I am trying to suggest is that the Lord General’s most prominent forces, including the only air galleon in the north, traveled here, to the edge of the Tartaruk Mountains . . .”

  Father Jacques was silent for the briefest of moments, and Terak saw a look of horror break over the faces of the Captain and Magister Inedi all at the same time.

  “While you are here, with your best-trained Brecha soldiers and your air galleon . . .” Father Jacques continued.

  “Then we are not in Aldburg,” the young and newly-minted Lord General Falan said in horror. “Send a bird to Aldburg, immediately! Prepare the Lady of the North to disembark!”

  “Sire,” Captain Ormskirk cleared his throat. “The Deck Captain has relayed that the Lady requires substantial rigging and sails repairs. I have teams that will work around the clock, but it is unlikely that she will be ready before morning.”

  The look on the young lord’s face said it all.

  “My Lord General,” the Magister said firmly. "As you know, the Enclave has networks and means of sending and receiving information quickly. A small force of mounted Brothers and Sisters will be able to get to Aldburg faster than the time it will take to repair your ship.” The Magister shared a look with Jacques and the other senior Brothers and Sisters around them. They all seemed to be in agreement with what she said next.

  “Tonight was an attack on both of us, and tonight we will act to defend the north as one.”

  13

  The Importance of Brother Menier

  “The Black Hand? Are you certain?” the Magister said in a serious whisper. She, Father Jacques, and Terak had split off from the main group of people in the Lesser Hall, leaving them to their discussions and preparations. Meanwhile, the Magister led the two away to a small side corridor amidst the press of people.

  “Report,” the Magister said to Father Jacques, and Terak realized that she and the Chief External had a relationship similar to what he and Terak shared.

  Circles within circles, the elf thought. And each one growing smaller and smaller until it got to Inedi herself.

  “I sent Novitiate Terak to make contact with Brother Thorogood aboard the Lady,” the Chief External said, indicating Terak beside him. He had given the elf a cloth to clean off the Asai residue, and thus reveal himself to the Magister.

  “And that is where you were attacked?” the Magister fixed her attention on Terak. He always found it an unsettling thing to have the full attention of the Magister’s shadowed eyes upon him.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Terak nodded, and retold the story as if it was a report for the Chief External, not leaving out any details from the moment he had left the Black Keep to arriving back. Apart from his encounter with the Mordhuk, that was. The elf made very sure that he didn’t include anything about that at all.

  “The Black Hand,” the Magister Inedi said seriously, “was one of the deadliest poisons used during the Succession Wars of the Southern States, more than fifty years ago now. It was so effective that there was no cure or remedy—not even magical. Any of the Southern Princelings who used it automatically had the upper hand over their rivals.”

  “When all four of the Southern States were eventually poisoning each other’s families, relatives, cousins, nieces and nephews, and anyone else they could get close to, we stepped in,” Inedi said. “We brokered a treaty to save the Southern States from falling into complete anarchy, and spent the next ten years eradicating the Black Hand from the land.”

  “Only, it looks like we failed, doesn’t it?” Father Jacques said, clearing his throat as he turned to Terak. “What’s more, we were the ones to develop the Black Hand—the Enclave-External.”

  Terak’s eyes went round.

  “It was a rogue Brother who fled the Enclave and worked as a poisoner-for-hire to the Southern States. We thought that we had eradicated it when the Brother in question was . . . dealt with,” the Father said. “If it has escaped again . . .” He looked at the Magister.

  “Then we were right all along,” the Magister said grimly. “There is a traitor in the Enclave.”

  The lights, Terak suddenly thought. The night of the air galleon’s arrival, he had seen lights in the distance, on the slopes of the Tartaruk. He had surmised that it was something to do with Brecha. Presumably, an air galleon needed lantern-scouts on the ground, but now . . .?

  “There was a reason why I tasked you with moving the oil lanterns and oil reserves from guard hut 4,” the Chief External explained. “We have had suspicions that someone was using them to signal outside the Black Keep. Someone who wasn’t using the messenger finches or going through the Magister to do so.

  “It was a test, to see whether any member of the Enclave would suddenly start acting strangely . . . and well, I guess that we have our answer now . . .”

  “I saw lights that night, out on the Tartaruk,” Terak burst out. “I thought nothing of it at the time . . .” He proceeded to tell them what he had seen—a singular light that flashed multiple times, appearing to signal someone.

  “And this was right before the Lady arrived?” The Magister looked at Terak, who nodded. “Then it is as I feared. It was an ambush. Someone within our own ranks hoped to cause as much chaos as possible—perhaps to destabilize the entire north.” The leader of the Enclave let ou
t a low groan.

  “I am afraid, Magister, that the situation gets worse,” the Chief External said. “Brother Menier was one of those poisoned in Aldburg, too.”

  Terak saw Magister Inedi startle—the only time that he had ever seen her react this way. What was so special about Brother Menier? Terak thought. That news upset her more than the news of an Enclave traitor!

  When the Magister spoke next, her voice was grim. “Dear Moons. Then all of our hard work could be undone . . .” she said mysteriously. “Chief External, it is clear that you will have to take the lead on this. I want to know who inside the Black Keep is working against us, and how much damage was done in Aldburg. Get it done.”

  “Yes, Magister.” The Chief External bobbed his head respectfully. “I will stay here to investigate the traitor, and Terak?” He turned to look at the elf. “You will travel with the party to Aldburg, as an agent of the Enclave-External.”

  “Me?” Terak breathed, before hurriedly adding, “Chief, sir?”

  “Yes, you,” Father Jacques said. “We know that we can camouflage you with the Asai Juice. And as you are an elf, you can also present yourself as a traveler in the Lord General’s city. You will be able to go places where the Brothers and Sisters cannot.”

  Terak did not feel ready, but then again, he hadn’t felt ready when he was tasked to go to the Loranthian Shrine, either . . .

  “Then it is agreed. You travel on the hour,” the Magister said. “And travel fast. There is much going on this night, and I fear that this is just the beginning of something much larger.” The Magister’s lips pursed in apparent disgust, before turning back to the entrance of the Lesser Hall, and leaving the Chief and his student alone in the dark.

  “There is another reason that I want you on the party, Terak,” the Chief murmured. He nodded for the elf to follow him. “I do not know who we can trust inside the Black Keep. But I know that I can trust you, thanks to your unique position.”

  Because I’ve been living behind the walls like Frebius? Terak thought.

  The Chief paused at a T-junction in the corridors, passing his hands over the black brickwork for a moment. There was a grating noise, and a section of the wall swung inward to reveal a narrow staircase. Terak didn’t recognize it, but he soon saw that it led to the network of the washer’s stairs.

  It didn’t take the pair long before they had reached the suite of rooms that Terak called his home. He was met by the familiar smells of dried herbs and strange powders, as well as the fierce chirrup of Frebius. The creature appeared to recognize his friend now that Terak had removed the Asai Juice from his person.

  “Ratachook!” The thing still gave Terak’s hands a suspicious sniff, however, as if the novitiate might unexpectedly transform into something else.

  “First, and most importantly, your outfit,” said the Chief. He selected two sets of clothes from the heavy wooden chests and cleared a space on one of the large wooden worktables to lay them out for him. The top set was the familiar black robes and tunics of the Enclave. “You can keep the gray belt of the novitiate for these, which will give you the lowest rank of those travelling amongst the Enclave.” The Chief nodded, patting the somber pile. “It means that you will become the de-facto messenger, errand-runner, and worker of the Enclave party, which is precisely what I want for you.”

  Wonderful, Terak inwardly groaned.

  The Chief read the elf’s dismay clearly. “Never misjudge the workers, novitiate! They have access to places that higher-placed members of society do not, and they are often free to travel—and observe—where others would be noticed.”

  The Chief then added the second pile of clothes, a dark green, long-sleeved jerkin made out of a soft leather. But the make of the clothing was strange. It was not made out of large sections of the material, but instead of many smaller, randomized shapes, patched and overlapped together. The sight of it triggered something in Terak’s memory, but he had trouble remembering what.

  “This is a simple elvish jerkin, no particular style or association,” the Chief said, and Terak remembered where he had seen such clothes before—the Elves of Everdell Forest, and Lord Alathaer’s Brilliant Host.

  “You will not have the space to outfit you as I would wish. A standard elvish winter-cloak and wrap-boots would be preferable, but this will have to do. With it, you will be able to walk the streets of Aldburg as a traveling elf.” The Chief tapped his darkly bearded chin for a moment.

  “Yes, you will have to think on your feet, I am afraid. But, depending on the situation on the ground, you can either be an elvish messenger sent between the Second Family of Everdell and the Third Family of Traelor, or, if Aldburg is in danger, then you can declare yourself as a Scout from Lord Alathaer and the Second Family, sent to investigate.” The Chief’s sharp eyes caught him. “You can remember that?”

  With Terak’s extensive memory training skills, he nodded that he could.

  “As ever, all of the usual Enclave-External skills apply,” the Chief carried on as he turned back to the crowded benches and rummaged for other useful items. “Never volunteer information if you do not have to. Even then, volunteer useless but plausible information—that you are a messenger, or a scribe, or a trader. Seek to deflect the conversation toward the speaker, not to yourself.”

  “I can do that,” Terak said.

  The Chief started setting small items atop the clothes, including a sturdier leather harness-belt that Terak knew he would wear under his outer clothes, and to which he could attach any number of small implements.

  “Blades,” the Chief slapped a heavy leather roll across the top of the clothes. There appeared to be every type of blade there from simple daggers to small knives, throwing blades, throwing stars, curving blades, and tiny ones that looked more like needles. The Chief selected for him two of the daggers and three of the throwing knives. “That should do. You will also, of course, travel with a shortsword.”

  Terak nodded seriously. I have never been this equipped for anything, he thought. The Chief was telling him to expect trouble.

  “Blind-Eye, Choke-Powder,” the Chief then moved to put small vials next to the bundle. “And, let me see . . .” his hands rummaged in one of the overhead lockers. “Yes, Mercurial Water . . .” he stated, selecting a small bottle of the silvery liquid that he had used to heal Terak’s wounds before. “. . . and Aggregate of Phosphor.” He pulled a small, bulging pouch from the locker and set it next to the others. “If we had time, I would tell you to mix this with chalk, and to separate it into parchment sachets. But time is a luxury we do not have. Once exposed to heat, it will create clouds of acrid white smoke and a bright flash. Not enough to wound or injure, but it will disorient.”

  “Yes, Chief sir,” Terak said. Although he had trained in all of these various activities, it was a little unnerving to see how the Enclave-External truly operated.

  “I cannot tell you what to expect once you get to Aldburg, but every bone in my body tells me that the assassination was a set-up, intended to drive the Lord General away. There may be a coup, or a full-scale attack by unknown forces,” the Chief said.

  Terak nodded seriously. “I will do my best, sir.”

  Father Jacques paused, and his brown eyes softened. “Terak, I do not expect you to defend Aldburg against all,” he said with an embarrassed sort of chuckle. “You must know that even while the Magister has pledged to help Brecha, the work of the Enclave continues. Your role, as my agent, is to investigate the death of Brother Menier.”

  “Oh,” Terak said. So, it was the death of Brother Menier that had really upset both the Chief External and the Magister.

  “As you know, Terak, we have been laboring to decipher the Loranthian Scroll, with the use of the Elvish code-book that Mother Galda retrieved for us,” the Chief said.

  Which should reveal a way to destroy the Blood Gate and stop the tide of Ungol monsters from entering Midhara, Terak knew.

  “Well, in our recent discoveries with the Scrol
l, it talks about what was needed in the construction of the Blood Gate. I was thinking that if we knew how the Gate was constructed, then we might be able to disrupt the key elements that held it together,” Father Jacques said. “My theories were proving fruitful. As you know, the Loranthian Scroll was the account of one of the architects of the Blood Gate, and it appeared that every architect had a special amulet made for them by none other than the Sorcerer Kings”

  The man’s voice went serious. “And, from the last messenger finches that I received, Brother Menier had located one such amulet.”

  Terak gasped. It all coalesced in his head. No wonder that both the Chief External and the Magister were so worked up! It wasn’t just the White-Faced Legion or the use of the Black Hand—or even the possibility of having a traitor within the Enclave itself.

  That means . . . Terak thought. “The poisoning of the old Lord General was a distraction as well . . .” he murmured. “It was a ruse to keep both Brecha and the Enclave busy—”

  “While whomever is acting against us seizes the amulet for themselves,” said Father Jacques. He nodded seriously.

  14

  Expedition

  When Terak stepped into the Eastern Courtyard, he was surprised at the small size of the company that he was about to join. For some reason, he had expected the joint expedition to be sent out by Lord General Falan and Magister Inedi to be larger.

  He saw that it was comprised of just over a dozen people, half of which wore the black robes of the Enclave that he did. The others wore the bronze-hued armor and the fur-lined cloaks of Brecha.

  All apart from two people, that was. One was the red-haired, green-and-white robed woman whom Terak had overheard talking with Captain Ormskirk during the Banquet. She appeared to be some kind of counsellor for Brecha. The other was also one of the Brechans—a man with long black hair and purple jacket who had almost uncovered Terak’s secret. Adviser Semuel.